The Salon is fast approaching (this weekend!) and there are a couple of fun things to discuss regarding it. First, who is coming? We’ve got confirmations from Elizabeth, The Groom, Iain, Natarajan, Donna, and me. I hear that Brett is a “maybe”. Kim and Martial, lamentably, cannot make it; Kim is chained to her veterinary desk. Trey, any news from your neck of the woods?
Second, we must identify what pressing moral, ethical, intellectual, political, and/or artistic subjects should be up for discussion at the Salon. What’s on your mind? What crises of conscience have you recently encountered? Me, I’ve been putting some thought over the past few months into weighty topics like the meaning and direction of my life and consequent choices of career. I have no doubt that you all have experiences and opinions to share on your own version of that one. What else might we chew over as we partake of some divine culinary offerings?
As The Groom and I contemplate our first bold, foolish foray into the land of home building, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the way that the spaces we live in both reflect and influence the way that we live in them. The area where we live is replete with “McMansions” – 5,000 square foot –plus monstrosities that all look more or less alike and generally play host to families that don’t begin to fill them. I’ve always had an aversion to these non-homes, but I have never been able to articulate exactly why they don’t feel like homes to me. There are many things about them that rub me the wrong way, from waste and environmental irresponsibility to crass ostentation and a baffling lack of imagination, but it wasn’t until recently when I read an article in Fine Homebuilding magazine that I was able to put the last piece to the puzzle. The article, “Not So Big!” is by Sarah Susanka, an architect who has written several books including The Not So Big House.
Susanka’s example of the quintessential cozy space is the window seat. “Imagine yourself sitting in one,” she invites. “The floor is brought up, the walls are brought in, and the seat rests between inside and outside. From this vantage point you can see what is going on in both of these realms as you rest in this place that is almost literally wrapping itself around you. The place is tailored just for this activity of sitting and looking out. When you are there, you know it, and the experience is delightful.”
Here I think Susanka gets at the heart of what makes a space feel cozy: personalization. A window seat is one great example, but many more spring to mind. Think how much nicer dinner with your sweetheart is in a nook for two than at a table for four with two place settings removed. Having a space that’s the right size for you – no more – gives a luxurious feeling that it was prepared expressly for you. During a recent conversation about cupcakes (yes, I know, but bear with me), my friend Susan pointed out a similar thing about those treats: Their individually-tailored size makes them feel like they were meant just for you. Window seats and cupcakes we are not expected to share. I believe its for the same reason that a plated meal brought to your seat feels more luxurious than a buffet, in spite of the relative abundance of the latter. But back to architecture.
Susanka also notes that the spaces we love best are tailored not just to our numbers, but to our needs. The standard formal dining room is a throwback to the largely outdated, largely British tradition of frequent formal entertaining, which few people in modern-day America really do anymore. When we entertain, it tends to be more casual, and Susanka’s description of what happens when we try to force the dining room was so apt I found myself nodding and chuckling as I read it:
“They are sitting around the kitchen island and the family room, watching as you work, asking if they can help with anything, enjoying the informal social atmosphere. As the meal preparation nears completion, you try to usher said guests into the dining room, which is set with your best china, candles in the center of the table establishing the ambiance. But the guests resist. They don’t want to be in that formal space alone. Not until you carry the main dish into the dining room are they finally willing to part with their barstools and assume their places at the table.”
Susanka points out that many architects only include formal rooms because they feel to omit them would slash the resale value. The result is, people are living in homes that were built with resale and not living in mind. Is it any wonder they don’t feel homey? A few brave, down-to-earth architects like Susanka are inviting people to start with the way they live and build their houses around that, rather than vice versa.
“They recognize that the emptiness they felt in their megahomes is related to scale. Slowly but surely, as a culture, we are coming to recognize that quantity and volume of space are not related to comfort, except in the most tenuous of ways.”
Amen to that.
The New York Times Director of Copy Desks answers questions about copy editing.
I especially like 1990’s ; ’90s ; 1990s divide. In the font my browser uses this is confusing, because the zero looks very much like a lower case oh. I must say that I tend to use DVD’s not DVDs. I think that this is usually because for the acronyms I deal with on a daily basis, appending an ess would be significant. For example, ACE’s and ACEs’s need to be differentiated. Perhaps I should choose more carefully.
From the legal blog at Wired News: AI Cited for Unlicensed Practice of Law
Frankfort Digital Services set up a web-based AI expert system to automatically fill out bankruptcy forms, which included citing relevant case law. The U.S. Bankruptcy Court took a dim view. Digging a bit deeper, apparently the way the software filled out the forms caused Frankfort to be classified as a “bankruptcy preparer” under 11 U.S.C. 110, and as such the company was required to list itself as a preparer and have someone sign the forms. (So, not quite as fascinating as the headline suggests.)
But this brings up the issue of how to apportion responsibility (and liability) when an expert system is making important decisions with little human involvement. If something goes wrong, should the creators be blamed? Or the handlers providing day-to-day oversight? Or, more fancifully, is there a way to punish the AI itself?
The debate about this has been warming up for decades now in medicine, automated trading on Wall Street, tax preparation, etc. I expect it will get more interesting as AI technology continues to improve. An interesting up-to-the-moment SF take is Charles Stross’s Accelerando.