Summary of the process:

 

a synopsis:

Inspiration, simulation, optimization, generation, materialization

 

an expanded synopsis:

The process starts with an observed structure in nature, a formal motif found in organic systems – such as the ripple of a wave or veining in a leaf.  The underlying elements of the structure are identified and simplified – deconstructing it into curves, shapes, and forms.  Next, a visual representation of a similar structure is created in CAD, trying to complete it in as few steps as possible.  Those steps are written into a program, or script, which can then be executed in CAD software to recreate the same model.  Once successful, randomness is added to the program to create variance.  By doing this, each time the program is run, the parameters change and the outcome is different.  Introducing randomness is relatively simple – most programming languages have a random number generator built in; it's just a matter of building that into the numeric variables of the program.  For example, if the program is written to create a sphere, a random number can be generated for the diameter of the sphere  so that each time the program is run, the sphere will be a different size. 

Through small changes of a few variables, radically different forms and patterns can emerge.  Think of a code as a series of actions - the 'butterfly effect' from chaos theory illustrates how a small change early on results in unpredictably large changes over time.  As one element is added to another, the latter is affected by the former.  Continuing with the same sphere example, if that sphere is to be the main body of a tea kettle, for example, it’s initial diameter will determine the overall size and volume Then the spout and handle must fit to that form.  In a longer sequence of interdependent variables, the resulting form exists as a function of change feeding back into itself to create unpredictable outcomes.  Simple rules iterated over thousands of times create complex behavior – this is the basis of emergent systems in nature.        

 

prototyping

The goal of this process is to create functional physical objects, not visual representations.  Therefore, the virtual forms must be materialized into durable objects – in this case, the silverware must be made in a material that allows the forms to function.  The final pieces are made in sterling silver, the traditional alloy for silverware in the US.  In order to materialize these forms in silver, each piece was made into a wax prototype and then cast.  The prototypes are ‘3D Prints’, made through a process that is much like ink-jet printing:  instead of printing ink, it prints with wax, building the object in sequential layers, adding wax on top of wax. 

 

In some areas, such as the bowls of the spoons and blades of the knives, the layers of the prototyping process are visible, creating a texture that resembles Damascus steel or weathered wood.  The texture was kept in order to leave indications of the process and allow an unpredictable surface finish to emerge through the process.  Additionally, the resulting aesthetic parallels the organic forms of the work, supporting the suggestion of natural process and accretion in layers (similar to what is seen in shells or rock layers).

            Once finished, these wax models were used as waste models in a lost-wax investment casting process.  This process goes back to ancient Greek and Chinese bronze casting.  To briefly summarize the process:  the model is placed in a steel flask and surrounded with high-temperature plaster, leaving a single opening to the model at the top of the flask.  The flask is heated in a furnace for several hours while the model is burned away through the opening, leaving an open cavity in the plaster.  Then, molten metal is poured into the opening, filling the cavity left by the model.  The plaster is broken away, and the metal piece is ready for finishing.  Each piece is oxidized and tumbled for the final finish.

 

Because the prototype is burned away in the casting process, there is never a mold and never a duplicate.  The complexity of the model is intended to make it impractical (if not impossible) to mold.  The only way to get an identical model is to print it with the 3D-printing process; at which point it is just as efficient as making another unique model.  And because a unique model can be quickly generated with the program already written, the work needed to make a new CAD model is negligible.  The result is a manufacturing process that is no more efficient when producing identical copies than when producing unique objects – a production line of variants – a way of making one-of-a-kind objects on a near mass-production scale.  Maybe, to twist a quote from Henry Ford, ‘You can have any color you want as long as you take whatever color you get.’

 

a bit more about the form

The silverware is inspired by systems in nature, specifically branching structures and aquatic tentacles.  The overall structure of the handle is composed of six randomly varied sine curves, mirrored to create bilateral-symmetry.  Each curve defines a tapered vine that terminates at the neck of the utensil with a small ellipsoid.  The overall structural effect is of a perforated tapered tube, creating a hollow structure that is light and strong.  The ellipsoid shapes cluster together to create a robust transition to the utility end of the utensil, mimicking transition points in nature, such as joints and branches. 

            The spoons are inspired by leaf forms, with structural veins along the center and perimeter where tapered vines blend into the surface.  The randomness of the program generates a variety of shapes and depths for the spoon bowls, and the surface is textured by the layers of the prototyping build process.

            The knife blade reflects forms in nature such as seaweed or aquatic fins (ie tadpole tail) with a rippling spine and thin undulating surface.  Here again, the aesthetic forms are also functional structures – the thick spine supports the thin blade, and the ripples act as a rib structure that support forces perpendicular to the blade edge – meaning that even though it is thin, it can be used to cut without bending. 

            The fork tines are a continuation of the sine curves of the handle.  The number of tines, as with the number of veins on the spoon and knife, follow the Fibonnocci sequence prevalent in nature (1,2, 3, 5…).  [It is more common to find elements in nature that split into 2, 3, or 5 directions than it is to find those that split into 4 or 6, thus the rarity of the four-leaf clover…]  The randomness of the code causes the tines to overlap in unpredictable ways, though generally the outside tines are of mirrored symmetry around the center tine.  Each tine tapers from the neck of the handle down to the tip, again a structural consideration – a tapered beam, like a flag pole or cantilevered bridge.

 

about the aesthetic

It has been noted that the silverware that came out of this process looks baroque or gothic, and I would like to explain that this is a byproduct of the process more than a direct aesthetic intention.  Ornament, from cave painting to Islamic pattern-making, has been influenced by nature.  In gothic work, and later objects from the Craft Revival, the value of variance is viewed as a reflection of nature, as well as a reflection of the nature of man, his work, and in his pleasure in the perception of variety. 

            Though I was studying historical ornament while designing these pieces, there are very strong systems of historic ornament that this work does not follow.  Additionally, there are elements that are wholly digital (such as the linear faceting of the grain pattern in the surfaces of the spoon and knife), which may at first appear to be a 'natural' pattern, but at closer inspection are digital and linear.  If anything, I would categorize this work as digital-baroque, or fractal-rococo.

            It is interesting that when trying to simulate nature via digital processes, and allowing the systems established in the program to guide the overall aesthetic, that the end result so immediately reflects historical ornament that grew from the same inspiration via different means.  Something as simple as a sine wave, our notation for the transfer of sound and light, when used as the foundation of an emergent structure, results in a form that reflects natural structures and historical ornament.  In the same way that the process of its development is an integration of old and new technology, the appearance and format is also a reflection of the past in the present, all of which exists in the work in a way that could only happen today.