Promise of 3D Printing

                 Many technology writers have emphasized the potential of 3D printing to democratize the design and fabrication process, enabling mass customization or rapid production of sculpture for anyone. From what I have seen, the great opportunity of 3D printing is not custom shoes or as fodder for contemporary art, but rather as a new method for engaging with the physical world. As a tool the 3D printer bridges the significant gap between the digital and the physical.

A 3D printed part made of Ultem 

                Objects can be harmlessly scanned, cleaned up tuned up or tweaked and then printed back into existence anywhere. Suddenly the hands off object can be engaged with up close, the eye coordinated with the hand, the tactile informing the intellectual. This is the huge conceptual step of 3D printing:  allowing the average person to engage with forms otherwise impossible to access. A patient can feel an internal structure captured by a CT scan while talking with their surgeon or a student can study a monument on a small scale across the sea from the museum itself.

                Collections could be archived digitally and printed, then reprinted and remixed, allowing cultural cross-pollination to occur with greater speed and depth. The Makerbot company recently led a Hackathon working with the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which seems a positive indicator for established cultural institutions embracing disruptive technologies like 3D printing rather than trying to shut them out. What remains to be seen is exactly how much friction will occur as private companies try to maintain a tight grip on intellectual property while the bootlegging of physical products can be as simple as cut, paste, and print. 

No Design

                Access to physical goods, to furniture, fashion and technology has always been leashed tightly to one's access to capital. With enough money, one can buy or commission almost any object, crafted from exotic materials or with laborious methods. Faced with a shortage of money, time, or both the consumer must become the maker and improvise.

Store owner has cleverly redirected AC condensation to a crack in the sidewalk. 

                Growing up in rural anywhere improvised forms are easy to observe. Hard working people short on everything cobble together structures that defy architectural norms or modify tools and machinery to perform highly specialized tasks. Such objects can't be called designed; they move too briskly from thought to action. Built on site or in a spare hour the concept is hacked out with great urgency, no potential pitfalls worked out on paper or in CAD models. While this philosophy of building has its failures, its overbuilt solutions and underperforming efficiencies, very few store bought goods truly fit our needs as well as the quick and dirty hack does.

Improvised prison weapons at the Davistown Tool Museum in Maine.

                In this sense they are very pure forms, explicitly made for and with a purpose. Like the labor of its maker, the essential object possesses no indulgent ornamentation, no style for style's sake, just the vital force to get the work done by any means necessary.