Alasdair Harris Alex Haw
Brian John Bill Drummond
Craig Mod
Darina Allen David Allen David Lloyd Owen Daniel Seddiqui David Spiegelhalter Euan Semple Ed Stafford
Gerd Leonhard
Jay Rogers James Lynch
Laura Williams
Maggie Doyne Markus Brehler Mark Earls Matt Webb
Phil Parker Peter Segger Paula Le Dieu
Steve Edge Steve Glenn Secret Speaker
In a field, In a tent, In a small clever country called Wales, The Doers of the world gather to share their stories.
The idea is a simple one: That people who Do amazing things, can inspire the rest of us to go and Do amazing things too.
1 small tent Daniel Seddiqui
Model, peanut sheller,
Brian John
Myth debunker
Steve Edge
The bells of Shoreditch
Paula Le Dieu
Digital goddess
marine biologist. You name it, he’s done it
What do you do all day? Last year Daniel Seddiqui decided to find out. After three years on the dole, hundreds of job applications, 40 interviews and endless knock-backs he’d had enough. So he set himself a new challenge: 50 jobs. In 50 states. In 50 weeks. Daniel careered across America, taking a job particular to each state and getting to know his country’s people, professions and places at the same time. Now his CV makes an interesting read (as will his book). A wedding planner in Las Vegas. A coal miner in West Virginia. A TV weatherman in Ohio. A rodeo announcer in South Dakota. And a speaker in a small tent in Wales.
The story goes like this: 4,500 years ago people moved 82 bluestones from one place in Pembrokeshire’s Preseli Hills. Somehow (how?) they lugged 4-tonne rocks hundreds of miles across Wales, through England, to their new home on Salisbury Plain. And Stonehenge was born.
He’s never read a book, but he tells a bloody good story. (And gives tips on log splitting, egg painting and knot tying.)
But geologist, glacier expert and author of ‘The Bluestone Enigma’, Brian John has another theory. And some archaeologists don’t like it.
Steve found out he was dyslexic when he was four. This spurred him into design, and aged 13, he got a part time job helping with magazine layouts at IPC media. He loved every minute.
Once upon a time archives were gloomy caves with shelves of neatly filed boxes gathering dust. Not any more.
Steve Edge, aka Lord Shoreditch, is a designer, super-slick thinker (and dresser) and an all-round branding brain.
Now his design studio works with George Lucas, Cartier, Dior and St Paul’s Cathedral. And, thanks to his dyslexia, Steve reckons he’s cracked this communication lark. If he can look at a piece of design and ‘get’ its message in a second, it’s working. Sharp ideas, keen quotes and a great pair of specs coming soon to a tent near you.
Paula Le Dieu is the British Film Institute’s Director of Digital. She knows a thing or two (or three) about digital media and online archives. Her own archive includes work for the Guardian, BBC, Ofcom and Creative Commons. She knows what to do with the past – and a lot about what’s coming next.
26 big ideas
Alasdair Harris
Seaside saviour
Coral reefs are important to people (local communities rely on fishing to survive), and they’re important to our planet (they’re the rainforests of the ocean). But they’re also very, very fragile. Marine biologist and conservationist Al Harris wants to save them. And he’s determined not to do it alone. Al’s company, Blue Ventures, gathers data and research about coral reefs and feeds it back to local communities, who then work together for a more sustainable future. Local people run, manage and monitor their marine resources themselves. And it’s working. Al’s project has blossomed from a single village in Madagascar to 25 villages covering 200 km of coastline. Al will tell us about life in, under and beside the seaside — and how they can all work together for a bright blue future.
Darina Allen
Force of nature
Real food doesn’t come ready chopped, sliced, and stuffed in plastic trays. Darina learnt cooking the oldfashioned way. She watched her mum make jam at home in Ballymaloe. She ate baked soda bread every day. She salted the bacon from Aunt Lil’s and Uncle Bob’s farm. She foraged for wild herbs for dinner. Skills that Darina picked up and didn’t think twice about, but that many of us have forgotten (and buy pre-prepared at the supermarket instead). But Darina doesn’t want to forget. Nor do students at Ballymaloe, a cookery school in the middle of an organic farm. People flock there to learn new (old) skills and read Darina’s books (her latest is ‘Forgotten Skills of Cooking’). Good seasonal food. Waste not, want not. These are the sort of things we can learn from Darina. That, and loving the place you live in. Darina loved Ballymaloe so much she set up her cookery school so she could stay there.
Craig Mod
Jackanory of the future
Will we miss books one day? The cover, the feel of the first page, the simplicity of the printed word… Craig hasn’t got time for this sort of romantic twaddle. Especially when most books are throwaway paperbacks, destined to be smudged in factor 15 by the sun lounger or collecting dust on a shelf. Craig thinks they’ll be the first to go. Kindles, iPhones and other digital thingummybobs do the job better. But that’s old news. Craig’s seen the iPad-shaped future and he wants to tell us about it. How stories will get up, walk, jump and fly around the page and even know where you are when you’re reading them. Join Craig to say good riddance to disposable books of the past. And say hello to the iPad future: new ways to tell digital stories and better books that deserve the paper they’re printed on.
Ed Stafford Tales from the Amazon riverbank
Ed’s gone for a walk along the river. He might be a while. After 900 days of walking from the source of the Amazon, he’ll reach the sea at the end of August. Just in time for the Do Lectures (but only just). We already know from his blog that he’s walked into a bit of trouble with a Brazilian shopkeeper (just a misunderstanding). And he’s caught some loggers in the act. All while lugging his laptop in flood season. Ed’s one of only a handful of people who’ve walked the length of the Amazon. He’s doing it to help bring us all closer to the wonders of the Amazon, to highlight the problems of deforestation, but most of all for the adventure. Be one of the first to hear about his trip.
Jay Rogers
21st Century Henry Ford
Most people buy a hatchback or saloon from a big brand’s glossy car showroom. Jay Rogers isn’t most people. He’s set up Local Motors, a car company that changes the way cars are made and sold from start to finish. Local Motors’ cars are designed and chosen by a community in a competition. The first one — The Rally Fighter — is about to go into production. Each car is built to order (so no cars are hanging about waiting to be sold from expensive dealerships). Then they’re built by customers. A community kit car. These cars look different and they’re made differently. The crowd sourcing model drastically cuts down on upfront cash and time. A Local Motors car is designed and built in the time it takes most car manufacturers to tweak their windscreen wipers. We know David can beat Goliath. But can the crowd beat a corporation? Jay thinks so.
Maggie Doyne
Super house builder
Finish school. Go on a gap year. Go to university. Get a job. Not Maggie Doyne. When Maggie reached war-torn Nepal in her gap year, her plans changed. Shocked to find that hundreds of orphaned children didn’t even have the basics to live on, she decided to do what most of us only think about. She went back and did something about it. Three years on from that first trip Maggie opened the doors to Kopila Valley Children’s Home, a school built brick-by-brick by her and the local community in Nepal. She’s founded the BlinkNow foundation to share her ideas with young people. And she’s won the prestigious Do Something award in America. Her game plan? Maggie says that if every child has a safe home, medical care and love, they’ll grow up to be leaders and the ones to end poverty for good.
Mark Earls
Shepherd
This will be a great talk. I think so too. Yes so do I. That’s the super-squashed version of Mark’s book, ‘Herd: How to Change Mass Behaviour by Harnessing our True Nature’. A book that shows why we do things because others do, why things catch on quickly and how we can change mass behaviour to do the same. Mark, Britain’s answer to Malcolm Gladwell (without the hair), is a great talker (it’s the super-social ape in him) and thinker. He’ll get you questioning what you think you know about how social networking really works and why most marketers have got the wrong end of the stick. Still think you’re a rational free-thinker? Make you up your own mind when you see him.
I got up at 7am, I went to bed at 1am, and for six hours I slept in a tent in a field with four other people. From 7.30am to 1am, every day, for four days, I listened, questioned, ate, ran, chatted, ate some more, sang, picked some very brainy brains, laughed a lot, sipped wine and spent most of the time outside in fresh air and quite a bit of mud. It was like putting a hell of a lot of interesting, clever, funny, sparky people in a blender. In a field. No one wore name tags. Everyone camped. Everyone chatted. Everyone ate together.
I danced with a 60-year-old Swedish man. I talked branding with an 18-year-old volunteer who turned up at Do after a plea for help on Twitter. I laughed with an amazing Danish man called Uffe who founded a new school and a new way of learning (and who sleepwalks — but that wasn’t in his talk). I asked the deputy editor of Wired magazine cheeky questions (and he helped fix my digital camera — but that wasn’t in his talk either).
I jumped in a river with some of the smartest, kindest, friendliest people on the planet. I was nicknamed The Word Whisperer by an American marketing guru called Duke, Molly Pink-Boots by a gamer extraordinaire, and a Gazelle by Ade, The Fastest Man In Cardigan. I laughed some more with a Welsh farmer who told some of the best stories I’ve ever heard (and whose talk about stopping GM foods made me want to cry). I borrowed a Liverpudlian lecturer’s wife’s scarf, and was all the warmer for it. I learnt that axes are interesting. And heavy. So chopping wood is hard (I tried it for the first time). That concrete is not mud, and running on both is different. (Mud is better.)
what I did at Do That all concrete is most definitely not the same. Just add water and see. That most companies are creatures without heads. (Turns out, the ones with heads were in a tipi in a field in Wales.) That food is tastier outside. That standing in stars and looking up at stars is magic. That birds are naughty. That we should copy nature (especially birds). That it is cold at night. And lovely. That King Creosote is a King Comedian. That we should keep the world weird. That DJs who play trumpets and whistles rock. That sheepdogs look good on the dance floor.
That there’s more to maps than meets the eye. Much, much more. That you can make a bread and butter pudding out of chocolate croissants. It is very very good and very very bad in equal measure (actually, maybe a bit more good). That it’s best to use PowerPoint presentations for doodles. That Sotheby’s should hold axe auctions in tents. That uncomfortable is good. That making glorious mistakes is even better. That talking to people who don’t do what you do gives your brain a shake.
That it’s good to turn up in a field in Wales knowing absolutely no one and see what happens. That I should jump in more rivers. None of it was about writing. And yet lots of it was. It was much more valuable than any normal ‘course’. It was a double shot of fresh air for my brain. Thank you. Molly
Print is dying. Digital is surging. Everyone is confused.
1 Formless content – retaining meaning in any container
2 Definite content – meaning shifts with container
Good riddance
Defined by content
As the publishing industry wobbles and Kindle sales jump, book romanticists cry themselves to sleep. But really, what are we shedding tears over? We’re losing the throwaway paperback. The airport paperback. The beachside paperback. We’re losing the dregs of the publishing world: disposable books. The book printed without consideration of form or sustainability or longevity. The book produced to be consumed once and then tossed. The book you bin when you’re moving and you need to clean out the closet. These are the first books to go. And I say it again, good riddance. Once we dump this weight we can prune our increasingly obsolete network of distribution. As physicality disappears, so too does the need to fly dead trees around the world. You already know the potential gains: edgier, riskier books in digital form, born from a lower barrier-to-entry to publish. New modes of storytelling. Less environmental impact. A rise in importance of editors. And, yes — paradoxically — a marked increase in the quality of things that do get printed.
From 2003-2009 I spent six years trying to make beautiful printed books. Six years. Focused on printed books. In the 00s. And I loved it. I loved the process. The finality of the end product. I loved the sexy-as-hell tactility of those little ink and paper bricks. But I can tell you this: the excitement I feel about the iPad as a content creator, designer and publisher — and the potential it brings — must be acknowledged. Acknowledged bluntly and with perspective.
For too long, the act of printing something in and of itself has been placed on too high a pedestal. The true value of an object lies in what it says, not its mere existence. And in the case of a book, that value is intrinsically connected with content.
With the iPad we finally have a platform for consuming richcontent in digital form. What does that mean? To understand just why the iPad is so exciting we need to think about how we got here.
Content with well-defined form (definite content, diagram 2)
I want to look at where printed books stand in respect to digital publishing, why we historically haven’t read long-form text on screens and how the iPad is wedging itself in the middle of everything. In doing so I think we can find the line in the sand to define when content should be printed or digitized. This is a conversation for book-makers, web-heads, contentcreators, authors and designers. For people who love beautifully made things. And for the storytellers who are willing to take risks and want to consider the most appropriate shape and media for their yarns.
Let’s divide content into two broad groups. Content without well-defined form (formless content, diagram 1)
Formless content can be reflowed into different formats and not lose any intrinsic meaning. It’s content divorced from layout. Most novels and works of non-fiction are formless. When Danielle Steele sits at her computer, she doesn’t think much about how the text will look printed. She thinks about the story as a waterfall of text, as something that can be poured into any container. (Actually, she probably just thinks awkward and sexy things, but awkward and sexy things without regard for final form.) Content with form — definite content — is almost totally the opposite of formless content. Most texts composed with images, charts, graphs or poetry fall under this umbrella. It may be reflowable, but depending on how
it’s reflowed, inherent meaning and quality of the text may shift. You can sure as hell bet that author Mark Z Danielewski is well aware of the final form of his next novel. His content is so definite it’s actually impossible to digitize and retain all of the original meaning. ‘Only Revolutions’, a book loathed by many, forces readers to flip between the stories of two characters. The start of each printed at opposite ends of the book. A designer may, of course, working in concert with the author, imbue formless content with additional meaning in layout. The final combination of design and text becoming definite content. In the context of the book as an object, the key difference between formless and definite content is the interaction between the content and the page. Formless content doesn’t see the page or its boundaries. Whereas definite content is not only aware of the page, but embraces it. It edits, shifts and resizes itself to fit the page. In a sense, definite content approaches the page as a canvas — something with dimensions and limitations — and leverages these attributes to both elevate the object and the content to a more complete whole. Put very simply, formless content is unaware of the container. Definite content embraces the container as a canvas.
3 The new equation – retaining structural meaning in digital form
4 Vertical chapters – breaking habit
The universal container Formless content is usually only text. Definite content usually has some visual elements along with text. Much of what we consume happens to be formless. The bulk of printed matter — novels and non-fiction — is formless. In the last two years, devices excelling at displaying formless content have multiplied — the Amazon Kindle being most obvious. Less obvious are devices like the iPhone, whose extremely high resolution screen, despite being small, makes longer texts much more comfortable to read than traditional digital displays. In other words, it’s now easier and more comfortable than ever to consume formless content in a digital format. Is it as comfortable as reading a printed book? Maybe not. But we’re getting closer. When people lament the loss of the printed book, this — comfort — is usually what they’re talking about. My eyes tire more easily, they say. The batteries run out, the screen is tough to read in sunlight. It doesn’t like bath tubs. Important to note is that these aren’t complaints about the text losing meaning. Books don’t become harder to understand, or confusing just because they’re
digital. It’s mainly issues concerning quality. One inevitable property of the quality argument is that technology is closing the gap (through advancements in screens and batteries) and because of additional features (note taking, bookmarking, searching), will inevitably surpass the comfort level of reading on paper. The convenience of digital text — on demand, lightweight (in file size and physicality), searchable — already far trumps that of traditional printed matter. The formula used to be simple: stop printing formless content; only print well-considered definite content. The iPad changes this.
It’s no wonder we love our printed books — we physically cradle them close to our heart. Unlike computer screens, the experience of reading on a Kindle, iPhone or iPad, mimics this familiar maternal embrace. The text is closer to us, the orientation more comfortable. And the seemingly insignificant fact that we touch the text actually plays a very key role in furthering the intimacy of the experience.
Take something as fundamental as pages, for example. The metaphor of flipping pages already feels boring and forced on the iPhone. It feels even more so on the iPad. The flow of content no longer has to be chunked into ‘page’ sized bites. One simplistic reimagining of book layout would be to place chapters on the horizontal plane with content on a fluid vertical plane (diagram 4).
The Kindle and iPhone are both lovely — but they only do text.
In printed books, the two-page spread was our canvas. It’s easy to think similarly about the iPad. Let’s not. The canvas of the iPad must be considered in a way that acknowledges the physical boundaries of the device, while also embracing the effective limitlessness of space just beyond those edges.
The iPad changes the experience formula (diagram 3). It brings the excellent text readability of the iPhone/Kindle to a larger canvas. It combines the intimacy and comfort of reading on those devices with a canvas both large enough and versatile enough to allow for well considered layouts. What does this mean? Well, most obviously that a 1:1 digital adaptation of definite content books will now be possible. However, I don’t think this is a solution we should blindly embrace. Definite content in printed books is laid out specifically for that canvas, that page size. While the iPad may be similar in physical scope to those books, duplicating layouts would be a disservice to the new canvas and modes of interaction introduced by the iPad.
We’re going to see new forms of storytelling emerge from this canvas. This is an opportunity to redefine modes of conversation between reader and content. And that’s one hell of an opportunity if making content is your thing. Craig Mod speaker at The Do Lectures 2010 craigmod.com/journal
Augmented reality. Cut this out. Bring it to fforest. Hold it up.
Euan Semple
One-man digital upgrade
In meta tag-speak, he’s a #clear #clever-clogs #mover and #shaker. To the rest of us Euan Semple knows about social media — things like blogs, RSS, and dealing with information overload. And he knows a lot of people who are worth talking to. Euan is just one of the few people who can make anything to do with social networks make sense. So why does Euan get it, when most other people make a hash of it? Because he gets that it’s down to three basic things: community, learning and interaction. He first got to grips with social media at the BBC. And when he’s not talking about it or doing it, he’s showing people at organisations like Nokia, the World Bank and NATO how to make the most of it. Listening to Euan is like downloading a one-man digital upgrade of everything you need to know.
Markus Brehler Batteries (and wires) not included
If we’re going to cut carbon emissions by 20% by 2020, where’s that 20% going to come from? Markus Brehler is looking close to home and work, at the buildings we live and work in. About 38% of all the energy we use is gobbled up by them (in heating, airconditioning and lighting). And Markus’ company enocean is coming up with ways to make them work better. It’s down to clever technology patented by his company. There are wires and no batteries. Yet they help us use less energy in our buildings. And be more efficient with the energy we do use. Intelligent ideas = intelligent buildings = less energy.
David Lloyd Owen Water and data junkie
Alex Haw Art, architecture and then some
David runs Envisager, a water and wastewater consultancy, just around the corner from The Do Lectures.
We like to put people in boxes. But there are some people who can’t be put in one. Alex Haw is one of them.
He’s been into the business of water for 21 years. First as an equity analyst, then as a writer and now as an advisor for companies, governments and water funds. He’s written six books about it including ‘Tapping Liquidity’ — all about financing water.
Let’s see. He mixes art and architecture. On his own and with other people. With music. Video. Bits of architecture made out of cardboard. CCTV surveillance. Things that glow.
We need people like David. As a self-confessed data junkie he’s good at dissecting weighty reports by the United Nations, World Bank, OECD and anything worth downloading. And he disentangles the politics from the priorities of managing water — and how to spend the money behind it. His big thing now is to get the water policy agenda moving in the right direction so we can work out the best ways to get the water we need against the challenges of growing populations, growing cities and climate change.
It’s fair to say Alex uses anything and everything. He might bring along an art installation-cumbuilding to sum up his work. Or he might not.
Listen to what the soil needs, says Peter, and you’ll learn what you can take from the land and what you can’t. Listen to Peter and you’ll learn a thing or two as well.
And in that time he really has picked up awards for the food he produces at his 45-acre farm as well as the ecological buildings on it. Universities, local schools and international grower groups have all popped over to try his cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, broad beans, peas and aubergines — and learn how he grows them without fertilisers.
Bleancamel Farm, which he’s owned for 30 years, is practically a world famous celebrity in the organic food circles.
If there were awards for muck, Peter’s compost would be right up there.
Soil whisperer
Peter Segger
It’s made up of concentric translucent recycled glass rings that light up in time with the Moon’s movements and the ebb and flow of the tide. It links nature. And because a lunar day is 50 minutes longer than a solar day, it’s also a slow-down time machine (something most of us could do with).
There’s a reason why the most amazing things can’t be made to order. Meet Aluna. Laura’s amazing vision that’s getting closer to being built beside the Thames near Canary Wharf and the O2.
Hello, I’d like a clock, a sculpture and a piece of art. It’ll be five stories high and forty metres wide. It’ll use new technology mixed with the ancient knowledge of the tide and Earth’s natural rhythms.
Tidal wave
Laura Williams
David Spiegelhalter Steve Glenn Chief chancer
Matt Webb Bob the Builder, 2.0 Wonky thinker
Phil Parker
Lightning conductor
Phil Parker thinks you’re amazing. And that human bodies are the best piece of kit ever invented. But sometimes they get ‘stuck’ — through illness, anxiety or stress. Phil’s Lightning Process helps people get unstuck. Part physiology (Phil’s a qualified osteopath), part psychology, the Lightning Process helps people unlock their amazing talents and skills. He’s a teacher, a trainer and a talent-spotter — and he can help you retrain your brain.
What a coincidence! Or is it? David Spiegelhalter can work it out. Along with how likely is it that you’ll win the lottery, and the probability of Barack Obama’s presidential win. David is Winton Professor of the Public Understanding of Risk at the University of Cambridge. A statistician, he works with a small team to teach children (and adults) about risk and uncertainty. He wants more people to think about risk, so he gets people’s brains ticking on his website, understandinguncertainty.org. If you’ve ever asked “What are the chances?”, David will tell you.
Everyone wants to live in Steve’s house. It’s designed by a world-class architect. It’s faster and cheaper to make than most new homes. And all the materials are natural, non-toxic and sustainable. As are all the homes at David’s company, LivingHomes. Each specially-made building is a healthier and happier place, with a smaller ecological footprint than most new houses. LivingHomes are made in special factories, so they’re super-efficient to build. The first LivingHome, designed by Ray Kappe, was put up in eight hours. Sustainable, modular, modern homes are possible, and Steve has proof. It’s like Lego, but bigger — and better.
Straightforward is boring. Wonky thinking is where the magic happens. Matt Webb is a wonky thinker. As MD of the design studio BERG, he thinks about how things could be different and better. Then he invents them. Bendy maps, solid metal phones, social networks in radios, Popular Science+ for the iPad and the best pause button in the world. Add intuitive, imaginative design and a lot of media and technological know-how and you get the wonderful world of BERG. As befits his brain, Matt lives in London in a flat with a wonky floor.
James Lynch Gerd Leonhard Fforester Future-gazer
In 2003 Gerd Leonhard gazed into his crystal ball and said “Music will be like water”. He looked into the future and saw music as a service, not a product. Record companies as ‘music utility companies’, not all-powerful marketing machines. And ownership of music replaced by access to it (thanks to streaming — water again). Turns out, Gerd was right. Which is probably why The Wall Street Journal calls him ‘one of the leading media futurists in the world’. He gives us a glimpse of what’s coming up in the media, new business models, technology and music. Fast forward starts here.
The Do Lectures wouldn’t be The Do Lectures without fforest (our home for four days). And fforest wouldn’t be fforest without James Lynch. Four years ago, James was running a successful business developing creative spaces in London. And then he stopped. With one eye on moving to New Zealand, James realised Wales, where he’d been holidaying with his family for years, was his next chapter. So he bought the 200-acre Fforest Farm on the floodplain of Wales’ longest river, the Teifi. And then he created a magical place to stay — part hotel, part campsite, part activity centre. On land that’s as wild and untouched as possible. Be here and hear all about it.
That would be telling Bill Drummond Our lips are zipped Choir master
Imagine waking up tomorrow and all music had disappeared. Bill Drummond, as choir master of The17, will be leading the performance of three scores and giving a talk.
Shhh! There’s one more speaker for Do 2010. But he’s asked us to keep his name under our hats (and yes, he’s a he, but that’s your only clue). All we can say is that you’ll be pleased as punch to be in a tent in Wales with this man. Promise.
The River Teifi. 100% live streaming
Not to scale. Not a Google map either.
We run The Do Lectures by using a bank called the favour bank. Basically, we ask for help from our friends. This keeps our costs down so we can keep going. This year we’ve had a lot of companies help us. We don’t know how to thank them other than to tell you that they helped us a lot.
So here goes: We would like to say a great big thank you to our 2010 sponsors: Virgin, Apple, Honda, Cafédirect, Innocent Drinks, Yeo Valley, Teapigs, Adnams, Rude Health, Method, and Naked Wines. We seriously couldn’t do this without you.
And not forgetting our founding partners: Haxted Estates, TYF, fforest, howies and orangebox. Thanks to Molly and Rob for the lovely words (and idea). www.weallneedwords.com
Newspaper Club is a service that helps people and communities make their own newspapers. www.newspaperclub.co.uk