Before Instagram, Slack and countless other apps wove the complex web of our consciousness, there existed a short lived Golden Age in which embracing a new technology did not yet equate to the fragmentation of our attention, addicton to constant connectivity, relinquishing all privacy, or crippling FOMO.
The Nokia 6110 symbolizes a magical time in the late 1990s when technology and convenience worked in harmony with life. I first discovered wonders of the Nokia 6110 during a stint in London. Though the embrace of new technology as a part of daily life on both sides of the Atlantic, the average Londoner had a jump on his US counterpart. In 1997 London, electronic house music was popular culture, club DJs were mainstream celebrities and the ubiquitous use of the Nokia 6110 to play tag with friends running around the city made perfect sense.
When I returned to the US, the Nokia 6110 became an an affordable new freedom that untethered personal connection from my home’s answering machine and made pagers, urine smelling phone booths and pockets of change obsolete. $39 bucks a month bought me 600 talking minutes. Bonus free nights and weekends brought the death of my land line. Since many mobile networks still ran on analog signals in the ’90s, the voice connections were solid and crystal clear. This was important because back then we still enjoyed talking on the phone. International texts were cheap. It was the first time you could flirt with that cute girl in Hoxton Square from a Peet’s Coffee in San Francisco for a nickel.
Affordable mobile handsets existed before but most resembled a VCR remote with an antenna. The Nokia 6110 was sexy. It had curves and a modern minimalism that its predecessors lacked: matte black with all black keys, tiny backlit details and symmetric yet organic scroll toggle buttons. At the time, Apple computers had not yet metamorphosed from beige boxes to the sleek objects we fetishize today. In 1997, holding the Nokia 6110 was holding the future. Not only was it pretty, it felt solid in a reassuring way. On countless late night strolls home through the pre-gentrified San Francisco Mission district, I gripped my 6110 ready to fend off a sketchy tweaker with its nubby antenna.
Though the functionality of the Nokia 6110 was primitive by today’s standards, its simplicity is perhaps what made it magical. The 6110 had only three useful functions: talking, texting and a clock. It was more than enough to grant us new experiences. My Nokia 6110 was a cherished and reliable friend for adventure. Unlike the buzz of my iPhone, the original Nokia ringtone still holds a dear place in my heart.
The Golden Age of the Nokia 6110 passed quickly. As mobile fever took off, my beloved 6110 lost its gleam. It became just another handset among Motorola Star TACs and Ericssons. Soon, handsets shrank and I replaced my beloved 6110 with a Nokia 3310. It was half size and weight, but felt as solid as an empty Pez dispenser.
As mobile phones morphed, our behaviors mutated as well. The texting obsession lead to Continuous Partial Attention Disorder. We lost our ability to be present with our loved ones and developed bizarre sensations such as the mysterious ‘ghost buzz’ in empty pockets. It was the beginning of FOMO and the slow digital dissolve of our collective self-esteem.
It’s obvious I long for those simpler times. It’s easy to suspect the tendency for sentimentality by people in my age group, though Gen Xers are not the only segment unsettled by our present relationship with devices. Anxiety, depression and suicide are on the rise amongst millennial and Gen Z segments. Studies* have attributed their decline in mental well being to extensive screen time.
A pair of millennials are confronting this. Twenty- six year old artist/skater turned tech entrepreneur Joe Holier and product designer Kaiwei Tang have developed the The Light Phone, a credit card-sized device that distills your smart phone back down to its original purpose: the ability to connect if you want to.
The Light Phone allows you to receive calls on your regular service but leave your smart phone at home, or as Hollier and Tang have coined it ‘Go Light’. Holier and Tang, who met in a Google incubator, developed the Light Phone to actively break our incessant urge to be continuously connected and our addiction to the dopamine hits triggered by constant updates. Can The Light Phone help us reclaim peace, mindfulness, focus and presence? Hopefully so.
