How the son of two junkies became a frontrunner in Virtual Reality
His parents were junkies. He invented a VR-camera in a garage in Amsterdam and reached the BBC, Forbes and The New York Times. This is the Avinash Changa-method to get successful
ON A GOOD DAY, several years ago, Avinash noticed a sign on a bakery’s window: Bike for sale. The timing was perfect, the ever upbeat entrepreneur was just in need of a new bike. In the bike rack he saw a nice-looking men’s bike.
Avinash bought the bike and happily rode it from the Amsterdam Jordaan to West, where he ran a digital production company, a success story that would soon grow into WeMakeVR, a company specialized in virtual reality. Satisfied after a day’s work he would bike home at night. Things were, and are, going well for Avinash Changa. BBC’s Business Insider called him ‘one of the leading lights in the sector.’
The New York Times and Forbes wrote about him, and he has major brands as Tommy Hilfiger and IBM as clients.
ON A NOT-SO GOOD DAY, several weeks later, a police officer on a motorbike drove up beside him. The officer slowed down and commanded Avinash to stop. He wanted to know whose bike that was. His, obviously. Where did he get it? Well, from the owner of the bakery…
Avinash had to come along to the police station, he was suspect of theft and fencing and held by the police for a full day. Handcuffed, he was transferred from one police station to another. During that whole time, people back at the office were wondering where Avinash was. Staff, e-mails and calls were waiting for him, but he was not allowed to make a call, and not released until the end of the day.
‘That is my reality,’ says Avinash, ‘when I cycle to work in the morning, I can be arrested’.
(Interviewer’s eyes grow large in disbelief.)
‘I think the police were looking at the whole picture: jeans, hoodie, sneakers. I have a profile that does not match that of a businessman getting out of an Uber in a suit, or that of the owner of a nice-looking new bike.’
(Interviewee sees interviewer considering racism.)
‘I never explicitly bring up skin colour. I actually don’t talk about it at all. I feel, and I have always felt, Dutch. And an Amsterdammer.
Avinash Changa had rather not have me start this story with the bike-incicent, because that could make his story about prejudice, and, says the upbeat-talking Avinash Changa: ‘I look at the positive things in life by nature.’
The subject of skin colour is not the reason why he told me about the experience. He wanted to talk about the responses of his friends.
One exclaimed: You must have done sómething to cause this.
Another said: An officer does not just do that for no reason.
It was confronting to see how strongly people were convinced by their view of reality. That belief was so strong that even his friends could only make sense of the incident if he really hád done something wrong.
One’s own reality is stubbornly persistent.
The realization that reality is not one-dimensional, is embedded deeply in this builder of three-dimensional realities.
ON A WEEKDAY I observe Changa who is observing me. I am standing in his studio, a converted garage from where he runs his company. He works with an “angel-investor” in London, there is an employee in Portugal, and here in Amsterdam there are six employees and an extended family of on call staff and friends.
But I am on a small island, because Changa put a VR-headset on me. I am at a music festival, I am standing in a forest and looking at various art installations. I am in an audience looking at a band. I am standing next to the lead-singer, watching his audience. I am on a boat, sailing back with my new friends.
I am everywhere, everyone, always, now, forever.
Then Changa places two controllers in my hands and puts a belt with batteries around my waist, allowing me to move freely, without any cables. Now I am entering a mysterious space, only limited by a visual grid along the edges.
My one hand is holding something that looks like a hybrid of a paintbrush and a laser sword. In my other hand I am holding a multi-sided palette, I can pick colours and shapes with which I can paint in mid-air in front of me. I take a few steps (in real life — I guess), I turn around, and six feet behind me I see what I just painted, floating in space. I paint again, now in front of me, behind me and around me. This looks like how Picasso painted a pane of glass, but instead of on a flat glass surface the paint stays suspended in mid-air, wherever I want.
I become euphoric. I am Picasso, I am Changa. I am colouring the world.
WHEN WE SIT DOWN a short while later, at his large white table in his white-walled garage, Changa tells me about the conception and building of the first camera for Virtual Reality use — Changa often speaks of ‘immersive technologies’, by which he includes related technologies used in merging the real and virtual worlds, such as Augmented Reality and Mixed Reality.
In the past, panoramic-type cameras were used, that did not allow you to look up or down, and they did not capture depth. Now we can. Designing your own technology is a necessity; there is nothing else. But, says Changa, do not focus too much on technology, it evolves and fights its own battle to be properly mass-produced. He is more interested in the possibilities, the applications.
Do not focus too much on technology
Changa compares the current phase to the emergence of internet. Back then, people said: what do you need that for? Why email when you can just post a letter? Later it became clear that internet was about offering an infrastructure which could be used for an infinite amount of applications.
The application is always more crucial than the technology
The application, Changa says, is always more crucial than the technology. Grandparents were never interested in the iPad, until it turned out to be a great way to Facetime and Skype and they could call into the living room of their grandkids. This led to mass-adoption of tablets amongst grandparents — and whether they came from Apple or a Samsung, did not really matter. It is not about the hardware, Changa says, it is about what you can do with it.
Even though the camera was a global success, Changa does not see it as his ‘big’ success. What he is really proud of are the developed applications he created: The virtual catwalk for Tommy Hilfiger, rolled out to stores across the globe; The short films that were awarded at international festivals and most of all: his educational applications.
Above all his mission is: to apply VR for improving quality of life.
VR cannot be contained any more
If you counter Changa with the fact that countless inventions that threaten mankind were created by well-meaning idealists, he smothers that with his positivity. He agrees that VR can be heaven and hell, which is why he tries to get large companies to agree on industry standards and best practice guidelines, but VR, just like his positive attitude, cannot be contained any more.
Yes, he was approached by a porn company offering a lot of money to make their customers’ dreams come true, but Changa was not interested. He wants to be commercially successful, and he sees it as his strength that he has a strong realization of the commercial needs and realities of doing business, but in the long run, he says, his goal is to make truly meaningful applications possible which will have social impact in the longer term. Like projects that teach teenagers in prison how to improve their communication skills, or let doctors virtually venture inside the human body, or let care workers improve their ability to spot signs of domestic violence.
This last project has a clear personal reason.
FOR A BRIEF MOMENT it appeared as if Avinash Changa had a typical childhood for an inventor/visionary/producer/tech-nerd: playing with Lego, watching cartoons, science fiction, taking apart phones and videorecorders, but he did not. Hesitantly he starts talking: ‘My parents were junkies. We lived next to the Red Light District in Amsterdam. When I was about four or five years old, my dad left. My mom was alone. She was turned away for many jobs and was addicted, but had to make money. So she started dealing from home. I worried a lot about her. I did see my dad occasionally, but he only came to visit as a customer.’
Reality became a fragmented experience.
There was the world where young Avinash lived in a home with a mother dealing drugs. There was the world where he went to school and had friends with normal families. There was an imaginary world of Lego and cartoons in which he escaped.
On the way back to school I delivered small packages of drugs
Imagination is a survival tool, Changa learned. ‘I had a very strong understanding of the world around me. I understood a lot better than most kids how the world worked. And to a pretty serious extent. On school days I came home for lunch, on the way back to school I delivered small packages of drugs and I collected the money.’
Did you not brag about the money at school?
‘No, I fully understood that was not something to do — you understand this very well, even as a kid. I once woke up when I was about seven or eight. I heard shouting. I climbed out of bed and walked into the living room, where I saw men in ski masks and my mom laying on the floor. Above her stood a man pointing a gun to her head.’
How afraid you must have been.
‘Yes, but deep inside I was also extremely frustrated.’
Why?
‘I have a very early childhood memory; my dad is furious and is going to beat up mom. And I am thinking: I will protect her. But the next time, I must have been four or five, I hide behind her on the couch while he beats her and I cannot protect her, I feel frustrated.’
Okay…
‘So: yes, they were wearing ski masks and yes, I was terribly afraid. But I also felt frustrated.’
When he was twelve the police raided the home. His mother was taken into custody and then to jail. Avinash was, just like his sister and halfbrother, placed in a shelter. ‘That did not work out. After two weeks in that place I packed up my things and walked out. I went to an aunt. Her husband used to own a brothel, it recently became defunct as he had passed away. I was able to rent a room there.’
What! But you were twelve?
‘Yes, twelve.’
But that is not legal.
‘If you do not get into trouble with the police and keep going to school, there is no problem, no crisis.’
You were living on your own at age twelve!?
‘I slipped through the cracks in the system. I had a legally appointed guardian that I saw once a year, but that was mainly a time-consuming hindrance. I knew to give the exact right responses to get rid of him as soon as possible.
But where did you get money?
‘I remember that… when I was twelve, thirteen, I could go into coffee-shops and buy hash and weed, because I used to do that for my mom. At school other students found out and I could have sold it. I decided not to do that. I remember having a very clear moment of realization: this is not the right path for me. I never smoked weed, drank or used drugs.’
Avinash had to figure out how to get dinner at night.
He played in a band, found a job at a musical instruments store. Connecting with other teenagers was hard. They were concerned with things like: can we go to the movies, and what time do mom and dad say we need to be home? Avinash had to figure out how to get dinner at night.
Naturally he had older friends. When he was fourteen he scammed a permanent membership to a dance club. He was there night after night. He bought illuminating whistles at a toy store and sold those at night on the dance floor. That bought him groceries .
Countless jobs would follow: director of the Weekend of Terror film festival, booker of bands, laptop repair guy in New York, assistant marketing manager at a steel industry multinational.
During that entire time Avinash kept getting out of bed in the morning on his own, to head off to school. There he asked a lot of questions, which was perceived as: he’s not the sharpest pencil in the box.
‘My mom did not think I was smart. I remember getting a radio-controlled car when I was six. Expensive present, someone remarked. But my mom said: maybe it will help him to learn how to drive a crane when he grows up. My heart broke. That moment was the basis of a lot of my motivation. I have a strong need to prove myself.’
After completing high school followed three degrees at the Amsterdam University of Applied Sciences: Commercial Economics, Business computing technology, and Communications. ‘I graduated in all three simultaneously. I really liked being in college, the gap between myself and my environment disappeared.’
AVINASH FOUNDED HIS FIRST COMPANY Disrupt, a digital production house where he combined everything that interested him as a child: video games, science fiction movies, weird imaginations. The culmination of Disrupt was WeMakeVR, for medical innovation, improvement of care and innovative entertainment. Add to that: storytelling and the creation of new narrative formats - all very diverse areas. During his college years he was told: You have to choose. You have to focus on one subject. You cannot do three degrees at the same time. And, well, we get the picture by now, that does not stop him.
The model in which you are forced to pick one topic to study and have to develop a career in one particular sector, is outdated.
‘As a kid you are asked: What do you want to be when you grow up? And a singular answer is expected. But the current generation of kids and teenagers navigate intuitively between different media, socials groups and varying personal interests. The model in which you are forced to pick one topic to study, and have to develop a career in one particular sector, is outdated.
Later everyone told me: a camera for real, proper VR is not possible. But I knew: not possible - do not ever listen to that.’’
“Not possible” - do not ever listen to that
Exploring and discovering on his own, looking beyond where others stop, not being satisfied with the current state of knowledge and wisdom as absolute truth, were the beginnings of his success.
After your studies you started to invent?
‘At home, sitting at the kitchen table. I wanted to make a camera that captures the world in such a way that you would be able to look up and down, left, right and see natural depth. With small wooden blocks, rubber bands and hot glue it materialized. We were the first in the world. We were granted a patent.’
And then?
‘We placed the camera on a small boat and toured the canals of Amsterdam. Back at the office we placed people inside the headset. They saw a tour boat approach, and instinctively started waving back, even though they fully well knew they were here in the office! Afterwards they would take off the headset and asked where the fan was, and where did the heat come from? They had really felt it. But we had no fan or heater. We then realized that the human brain becomes quite malleable when the experience is realistic enough. You can simulate physical sensations.’
Changa had found what he was looking for: VR with real images instead of the computer-generated images like in a video game.
Technology is just a tool, he says it very often. Yes, you need technology, but more importantly you need applications that are genuinely useful to people. An application that helps to make the lives of everyday people easier. He is very passionate about venturing beyond the gimmicks.
‘We do not see how many people are in trouble. How many children are being neglected, how people are sent from one office to another. We hear this from people who work in care. This is our society: we have got our lives in order, and we are blind to those who have not.’
During our conversations he often refers to his project dealing with domestic violence. It is a VR-experience for care workers. A family is visited where abuse is ongoing. The family is conditioned to give socially acceptable answers. The care workers revisit the family, in VR. The care workers then learn to look for certain signs: the 7-year old who is happily drawing, but no pictures are seen on the wall. A stack of unopened mail, including tax letters. Using VR in this way, is what he wants to do. When he brings up his mother again, I understand how deeply rooted his motivation is: ‘In the final year of elementary school I still lived at home. We had our final school play, and I was thrilled about it. I had written a character and wrote the dialogue all on my own. I was very passionate about imaginary things. All the parents came, and I hoped my mom would come as well.’
Even though you knew better?
‘Yes. But I still had hope. When she did not show up, my interest in stage plays was wiped out. I did not want to have anything to do with it any more.’
Did you not already feel that she would not come?
‘I always hope that things turn our well, that people are good.
How can such an experience nót make you cynical?
‘Why would you let it? It does not help anything: to let things rot. Nowadays I do not let anything stop me. I do not care what people think. If I believe in a concept and people tell me I am crazy, I will do it anyway. The belief in not being cynical runs very deep.’
I do not let anything stop me. I do not care what people think. If I believe in a concept and people tell me I am crazy, I will do it anyway.
His mother passed away in 2007: Cancer.
Changa had earned enough to be able to take the time to care for her, together with his sister and aunt. She had quit drugs years before, and was now a teacher for children with learning and behavioural disabilities, even the worst kids blossomed under her care.
She had a very special impact, says Avinash, and in that way created a beautiful legacy.
Whatever happened during her sickness: Avinash kept a medial log. ‘For example, I noticed that during a stereotactic radiation session the values were wrong. I told the doctors: they are set incorrectly. They responded: no, they’re correct. I said: no. I was convinced, from a very early age, that I knew certain things.’
He was right and the radiation was corrected.
Another time a doctor told him no further treatment was possible for his mother. ‘I did not think he was right. I studied the treatment plan and started asking certain questions. Yes, he said, there are some other methods. So we went ahead with the methods, resulting in her getting another year, with good quality of life. I follow my own path. I can be stubborn.’
Avinash developed a deep respect for his mothers’ struggle. To this day he believes: ‘She did not have many options, I understand why she started dealing. She felt guilt, and strived to make things right.’
And maybe she stills does, because she has a part in why he wants to do good things. When he just started working with VR, he made a list of dream projects. On that list: teach people to recognize abuse. That project is now ongoing.
Just as many of his other projects. Currently he would love to make a history lesson by letting a class visit Leonardo da Vinci.
You make new memories
‘Imagine that you don’t get taught history from a book, but suddenly you’re eye-to-eye with Leonardo da Vinci, and you can explore his workshop. You are no longer in class listening, but you truly experience something and make new memories. That’s the start of a more effective learning methodology. When an entire class is suddenly inside Da Vinci’s workshop, they could try to collaboratively build his model of the helicopter, and with their teacher’s help they could modernize it. And then they could actually briefly fly it over fifteenth-century Italy!’
Technically Changa sees no issues. The separate elements of the Da Vinci-example are visible - or should I say experienceable? — in previous productions. The only hurdle in creating this example is money. He needs institutions and governments with the guts to go on the journey with him.
He’ll find them, no doubt.
