The Digital Attic and the Vintage AI
1. The Invention of the Picky Eater
We often treat the "kid's menu" as a biological necessity, assuming children simply lack the palate for complex flavors. However, historical records suggest otherwise. Before the mid-20th century, there was no such thing as "kid food." Children sat at the same table and ate the same stews, grains, and vegetables as the adults.
The shift occurred during the rise of industrial food processing in the 1920s and 30s. Companies realized they could market specifically to parents' anxieties about health and vitamins. By creating "bland" options like Pablum and later, processed finger foods, we accidentally trained generations of children to expect a separate, narrow reality at dinner time. The takeaway: Much of what we consider "human nature" is actually just very effective marketing from seventy years ago.
Read more on the history of kid food →2. Why AI Needs a Body
At the de Young Museum’s "Monet and Venice" exhibition, visitors aren't just looking at paintings; they are engaging in a dialogue with the past. But they aren't using iPads. They are typing questions into vintage typewriters, which are linked to Claude (an AI). The machine clacks, the ribbon moves, and the paper reveals a response.
This reveals a profound truth about our relationship with technology: friction creates trust. A glass screen feels ephemeral and slippery. A typewriter feels heavy, deliberate, and permanent. As we move deeper into the AI era, the most successful tools might be those that incorporate the tactile weight of the past to ground the abstract power of the future.
Explore the Monet & Venice Interactive →3. The Smartphone Polycrisis
There is a growing "polycrisis" in our pockets. We are caught in a feedback loop where the smartphone is our primary tool for economic survival, social connection, and emergency information—making it impossible to leave behind. Yet, the same device is the primary driver of our fractured attention spans and modern anxiety.
The solution isn't a "digital detox" (which is often a luxury of the wealthy), but a movement toward Functional Minimalism. This involves stripping the phone of its status as a "destination" and returning it to the status of a "utility." If you pick up your phone and don't have a specific job for it to do, you are the one being used.
On the modern smartphone tension →4. What Happens to the Digital Attic?
Sona Tatoyan, a Global Fellow, recently shared a story of discovering 180 shadow puppets in an attic—a collection belonging to her great-great-grandfather. These physical objects weren't just "stuff"; they were a living bridge to her family's Armenian heritage and the stories of those who came before her.
This highlights the Digital Attic Problem. As we shift our lives to the cloud, we are losing the "found object" experience for future generations. Our descendants won't find a box of puppets or a bundle of letters; they will find a locked hard drive or a defunct cloud subscription. We must ask ourselves: what physical anchors are we leaving behind for our stories to cling to?
Follow Sona Tatoyan’s work →5. Solving the "Boring Report" Problem
In business, we often lead with data and end with a "thank you" slide. It’s effective for records, but terrible for influence. Instead, try the 4-step narrative framework used by master storytellers. It works because it mirrors how the human brain processes information:
- Once upon a time: Establish the status quo. (The Context)
- Suddenly: Introduce the friction. (The Problem)
- Luckily: The pivot point. (The Innovation/Solution)
- Happily ever after: The new reality. (The ROI/Impact)
By framing your next project update around the "Luckily," you shift the focus from what you *did* to how you *saved the day.* It turns a dry update into a memorable victory.