New Textiles 2010

SPECS.

But in this twitter-tastic, self-surveilling society, who else do we need to talk about but ourselves?

SPECS. or MSDS. diameter (micrometers): 4 millimeters total length of yarn (meters or yards): 141cm ply: 6 ply fiber length (millimeters): filament twist direction: clockwise twist (turns per inch): varied---approximately 8, but as few as 5 where the twist began to slip and unravel. conductivity (ohms per centimeter or ohms per inch): i'd guess "very," since it's composed of electrical cord innards, but I haven't measured.

one as mouth.

one as ear.

But in this twitter-tastic, self-surveilling society, who else do we need to talk about but ourselves?

Speaker sends audio vibrations into one can, which is transmitted to the optical fiber to the other can, where the speaker of the cell phone detects these vibrations as a nearby voice, sending the sound through the phone as normal.

But after a few mad scientist moments, and naively trying to stick the optical fiber into the speaker of my cell phone and whisper through the other end, I figured I needed an amplification device. I dissected my stethoscope and tested the levels of audio, altering its placement. I put the stethoscope drum on the end of the optical fiber, on the butt of the can, on the side of the can. But the sound wouldn't transmit.

I played with the vinyl tubing as a direct line from speaker to cell-phone speaker, but still no result. After a few hours of tedious tinkering, I decided to let the tin-can-tele be what its name states:

...thus routing the tube from one can to the other. one as mouth

 one as ear.  

So actually, it's only half of what it should be. Because only one person can speak, and only one person can hear.

Or the same person can speak and listen.

But in this narcissistic, twitter-tastic, self-surveilling society, who else do we need to talk about but ourselves?

So I decided to find out and make my own, slick, shiny mobile unit. Yes, the tin-can-tele. Perfect piece for spinning a yarn. Turns out the media lab is a great resource for things like this. Wires, cables, optical fibers, things that look techy. So I scrambled about the building until I found a stray optical fiber, which I recently learned is

But during the damned detangling process, I must have been bored, because I began to think of ways to elaborate upon my tin-can-tele. And I ended up with springs rolling across the floor, vinyl tubes spliced together, punctured earplugs taped to my cell phone and a stethoscope in my mouth.

Originally I had intended to have a unit that looks like this:

Speaker sends audio vibrations into one can, which is transmitted to the optical fiber to the other can, where the speaker of the cell phone detects these vibrations as a nearby voice, sending the sound through the phone as normal. But after a few mad scientist moments, and naively trying to stick the optical fiber into the speaker of my cell phone and whisper through the other end, I figured I needed an amplification device. I dissected my stethoscope and tested the levels of audio, altering its placement. I put the stethoscope drum on the end of the optical fiber, on the butt of the can, on the side of the can. But the sound wouldn't transmit. I played with the vinyl tubing as a direct line from speaker to cell-phone speaker, but still no result. After a few hours of tedious tinkering, I decided to let the tin-can-tele be what its name states, routing the tube from one can to the other--one as mouth, one as ear. So actually, it's only half of what it should be. Because only one person can speak, and only one person can hear. Or the same person can speak and listen.

Besides, in this narcissistic, twitter-tastic, self-surveilling society, who else do we need to talk about but ourselves?

This also failed, and I decided to create a modified, exaggerated model of the spindle, implementing a hooking device (the C-clamp) for tension and a rolling mechanism to prevent tangle-age.

And it worked pretty well.

The twist held its twist tightly. Until the end. When I had a slip of the hand and a major flip of the can. The 3 feet of wire I was stretching upwards was lost, and the threads somewhat in disarray.

It took a while to re-source the threads and permanently attach the loose ends into the receiving can, which I hadn't done earlier, as I wanted the can to provide the "choke." Frustration is inevitable when working with little unruly, meticulous things that require a certain delicate dexterity that doesn't synchronize with your people-sized behavior.

But during the damned detangling process, I must have been bored, because I began to think of ways to elaborate upon my tin-can-tele. And I ended up with springs rolling across the floor, vinyl tubes spliced together, punctured earplugs taped to my cell phone and a stethoscope in my mouth.

After naively trying to stick the optical fiber into the speaker of my cell phone and whisper through the other end, and of course being disappointed by not I decided it was surely something with the cans.

And now I have one embedded in my device, serving as the core around which I would wind the decorative wires, thus creating a textilesque yarn.

Here you see my hand with an LED and a 3V battery, seated at the base of the optical fiber, promoting the passage of light through this 6' long, thin, clear strand of optical fiberness, lighting up the other end of the rod. It was a really amazing moment. Unfortunately, it's light wasn't bright enough to elicit a decent image. But what you see in the second image, is technology. So DIYable.

I chose some wires from the cord I ripped into and decided to try a 2 ply twist using traditional yarn-making techniques and a spindle. Because the wires have a coating of plastic or rubber that would encourage slipping and a prone-to-come-undone twist, I chose to wind a stripped aluminum wire with one of the colorful filaments. Extra traction, extra shine.

I went with 6 total filaments for the yarn (including the optical fiber and the 2-ply twister) and secured them to the base of the can.

And threaded the dangling cords into the "receiving" can, for a gradual, controlled release of cord to accompany my twisting process.

But the foot didn't work, as my arm couldn't extend the necessary length. So I clamped the can to my desk and stood on a chair.

This also failed, and I decided to create a larger-than-life model of the spindle, having a hooking device (the C-clamp) and a rolling mechanism to prevent tangle-age.

Here is my hand with an LED, promoting the passage of light through this 6' long, thin, clear strand of optical fiberness, lighting up the very end of the rod. It was a really amazing moment. Unfortunately, it's light wasn't bright enough to elicit a decent image. But what you see in the second image, is technology. So DIYable.

I chose some wires from the cord I ripped into and decided to try a 2 ply twist using traditional yarn-making techniques and a spindle.

So I decided to find out and make my own, slick, shiny mobile unit. Yes, the tin-can-tele. Perfect piece for spinning a yarn. Turns out the media lab is a great resource for things like this. Wires, cables, optical fibers, things that look techy. So I scrambled about the building until I found a stray optical fiber, which I recently learned is

1. a transmitter of light
2. in my ordinary cell phone
3. a cheap and abundant item

Here is my hand with an LED, promoting the passage of light through this 6' long, thin, clear strand of optical fiberness. It was a really amazing moment. Unfortunately, it's light wasn't bright enough to elicit a decent image.

As I can't really be a sky-entist, I'm forced to take the pseudo-scientific approach. Which involves a bit of innovation and a critical stance. Thus, we have a little space to "make-fun" (out) of Western culture's reliance upon such intricate and complicated systems that most of us don't understand. Take cell phones for instance. A sleek, shiny, common networking device. That virtually every person in the USofA owns and operates. But how many of us know how they actually transmit our phonetic signifiers? Magic, the way this invisible information leaps through billions of air particles and lands in the (usually correct person's) earpiece, allowing instantaneous communication with people we often don't even need or want to communicate with. No, I don't want to claim my 3-day stay, vacation get-away at the Marriot Kansas City. I want to learn how my bleeping device can be so smart as to allow me to receive this terrible offer, but can't be smart enough to know that I don't want incoming calls from places that make terrible offers.

For a really long time I've had an unjustifiable fear of technology, and an intentional avoidance of learning about anything that could stereotypically be classified as such. I'm not sure why. The nano-scaled components, the incomprehensible mechanics of information transfer, the danger of electrocution. Whatever this fear is, as ambiguously defined as an amoeba's contour, I've determined it unreasonable. And if only because I live within a regulated city environment that forces me to heat my hot water through electricity and other networks of energy, interaction with this technology is unavoidable. My morning coffee is worthy of this confrontation. So I'm trying to embrace it, and maybe even get to know a little about how to manipulate it.

As I can't really be a sky-entist, I'm forced to take the pseudo-scientific approach. Which involves a bit of innovation and a critical stance. Thus, we have a little space to "make-fun" (out) of Western culture's reliance upon such intricate and complicated systems that most of us don't understand. Take cell phones for instance. A sleek, shiny, common networking device. That virtually every person in the USofA owns and operates. But how many of us know how they actually transmit our vocal signifiers as invisible information that leaps through billions of air particles

(words are on the way...i wouldn't miss an opportunity to spin a yarn.)