Conclusions
When I was a teenager my mother bought me an electronic typewriter. I sat in front of it, slipping a piece of paper into it’s imperfect slot and started to write. Watching the ink stamp itself on the page and bring my thoughts to life was a magical thing — truly.
Although in and of itself it didn’t make me a better writer, by virtue of having the device I felt like I’d taken quantum leaps forward in my potential to become a true author. What does that tell us?
Products have the capacity to become an intricate part of our sense of self and identity. They can amplify confidence levels and belief in ones ability and that’s a powerful thing.
It’s humbling, exciting, thrilling & a little scary to see the progress we’ve made from the electronic typewriter to the super powerful computers we used to share our ideas with the world instantaneously today. Why scary?
I’m glad I imagined you asked.
Feeling scared implies a fear and yes: I do have a fear. Three in fact,
(1) I fear that we’ve stopped questioning the value of technological advancement in all domains, especially in the domain of reading, writing and self expression.
(2 ) I fear that we’ve overvalued our digital extensions of self and devalued the more direct and physical acts of writing & drawing.
(3) I fear that the portability and connectedness of everything is disconnecting us from the physical world and the people who live with us there.
One of my favourite parts of completing written work on my typewriter was taking those papers, compiling them into a stack, binding them and physically sharing them with someone. If persuasive enough, I’d always prefer to sit next to them while they read it so that I could observe every reaction, emotion and intangible moment of connection. These moments were amazing in that neither of us were multitasking or distracted by something or someone else. No one was checking their calendars to see what was next in line. We were just present.
As I’ve said in previous writings: I love technology. I love our digital universe and my g-d; I loved that typewriter and the silent encouragement & capacity it gave me to achieve my goals. But I also miss those amazing moments of intimate connection. So where does this leave us?
I spend a lot of time drawing & writing with my two young boys and during that time its incredibly clear how special the physics act of artistic expression truly is. Its amazing to see the level of pride that my oldest son of 3 gets spelling out a word on a piece of paper versus typing it out on the computer. It’s like he knows that somehow he wasn’t as empowered by the tech as he one with the crayon. The technology seemed to make him feel like he’d cheated somehow.
As I stumble through maturity, I find myself wanting and needing more and more opportunities to draw and write things down on paper to truly squeeze the potential out of the thoughts and ideas I care about. I’m grateful for all that technology has done to encourage & advance my writing abilities, but we need to stop drawing conclusions around the surpremacy of technology in self expression and start drawing, with a pencil. Most of the greatest advancements in thinking came from those pencils that we leave to rot in our drawers. Lets not let our minds rot with them.
