Crave

Maker Faire safety officer Joseph Pred talking to Star Wheel creator Paul daPlumber about any safety issues that might come up with the bicycle-technology-powered carnival ride.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET Networks)

AUSTIN, TEXAS--Joseph Pred is carefully eyeing the giant rolling ferris-wheel-like carnival ride as it begins to head down the first hill it has encountered since being built three years ago.

Known as the Star Wheel, the bicycle-technology-powered ride is glorious fun. But since it carries three pedaling people in its interior, Pred is very interested in making sure that the Star Wheel's creators are in control of it as it starts to head down the hill.

Pred is the safety officer for Maker Faire, the weekend-long celebration of do-it-yourself culture that's wrapping up here today. He's in charge of making sure that the million moving parts that make up such an event don't result in things going wrong and people getting hurt, or that at least if someone does get injured, it's not because of negligence on the part of the organizers or the exhibitors.

And right now, his focus is entirely on the Star Wheel and its initial encounter with degrees of incline.

"They're testing it because they've never done it on a grade," says Pred as he watches the wheel's progress. "They're testing the tolerances. My job is to observe and help them figure it out and give them a nudge. And they're doing a good job."

I've come here to Austin to report not just on Maker Faire--as I've done before--but also to write about what goes on behind the scenes. So talking to someone like Pred, who is invisible but crucial to the countless artists and attendees at an event like this, seemed natural.

This role is no stretch for Pred: He's played the same role at both of the previous Maker Faires, in San Mateo, Calif., in May 2006 and May 2007. And though he's based in the San Francisco Bay Area, the show's organizers have hired him to come to the Texas capital with them because he offers an irreplaceable combination of technical skill, long-term relationships with many of the people who are exhibiting, and an understanding of how to interface with government agencies like the sheriff and the fire department.

But as much as you might think that the safety officer's job would be filled with tales of gory incidents and exciting adventures, Pred says the reverse is actually the reality.

"My job is basically to make things not happen," Pred, who runs the Bay Area company, Mutual Aid Response Services (MARS), says. "A lot of the work is involved with pre-planning, being proactive, reviewing safety plans, and making sure that the artists and the (exhibitors) just have common sense....But the makers are, by and large, responsible for the safety of their projects, and to be fair, the makers are generally experts at what they're doing already, so it's not a big stretch."

One reason he knows this is that he has worked with or known many of the artists for years, either through previous Maker Faires, or through Burning Man--for which he works part-time by running emergency services--and other events. And that experience with many of the people involved in putting on Maker Faire here breeds the kind of familiarity necessary to break down the communications barriers that might otherwise arise when trying to instruct artists on safety issues.

"It's about relationships...(being able to) walk up to someone and address them by their first name," said Pred, who, incidentally, has been a friend of mine for some time.

Besides his knowledge of the people and of the art projects here, Pred explains that having someone whose job is specifically to seek out safety concerns is crucial to the success of an event like Maker Faire.

"I'm that safety net for both the makers and the organizers," he says. They're "focused on production and their projects, and they can get tunnel vision, and so having somebody (like me), this is a standard position in a lot of organizations, having someone focused on safety, so preventative measures can be taken before something happens."

Part of the job of the safety officer is to work alongside agencies like the fire department in setting up expectations of safety on the part of the artists. Once that position is established and respected, and the community has those expectations, they can become self-enforcing, and the job of Pred, or someone else like him, becomes supportive.

Still, there are real practical considerations.

"We review all the general descriptions of the makers (and their projects), and we highlight those that involve known hazards," Pred explains. "It could be something as simple as a glue gun or soldering iron. Maybe there's a small but known threat to someone who doesn't know how to safely handle one....It starts a dialog, really. And that dialog is just intended to show that we understand their project, and they understand our expectations. The goal is to enable them to do their projects to share their delight and passion for what they do."

One of the things that Pred feels he offers organizers of events like Maker Faire, and the participating artists, is a different approach than what many are used to. That's important when you're talking about artists who are used to working within their own constraints and guidelines and for whom any rigid law-enforcement rules would be anathema to doing their art.

"I think a traditional approach to safety has been very much a 'no, you can't do that' sort of approach. It's very conservative and not in any way permissive. But with a community like this, it's more like, 'yes, you can do that, and let's figure out how to do that safely.'" said Pred. "The primary difference is that authorities generally are more concerned about a code of regulations...that doesn't account for community or the values that a community is looking to share."

As a result, one of Pred's core contributions to everyone involved in putting on Maker Faire is what he terms as "translation."

"I'm the liaison to all the agencies we might deal with, to free the production staff to deal with the production, and I can speak to the agencies' mindset," Pred says. "And surprisingly, that's a very difficult translation for the different parties to make with each other. Agencies tend not to understand the communities, and the communities don't always understand the authorities, because it's different languages."

AUSTIN, Texas--With all the high-tech in evidence at Maker Faire here, it's hard to believe that one of the most amazing things I've seen was purely analog: drawings in dirt on the side of a car's window.

This is Scott Wade's Dirty Art Car.

Scott Wade makes beautiful art by drawing in dirt on the windows of his car, the 'Dirty Art Car.'

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET Networks)

Most people, when they see cars with dirty windows, just use their finger to write "wash me" on the glass.

But Wade is taking that basic idea and turning it high concept. He takes a drawing tool and etches wonderful, detailed drawings into dirt on the windows of his simple Toyota. It's really quite amazing to see.

Most people just write 'wash me' on the dirty windows of cars. Scott Wade turns such windows into a canvas for beautiful art.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET Networks)

That's especially true when I'm surrounded by engineers and people doing things with circuitry, fire, LEDs and model rockets. And then there's this guy quietly making beauty on his car.

I just love it.

Stephen Voltz, one-half of the team known as Eepy Bird, loads its special Mentos delivery system caps onto Diet Coke bottles in preparation for their show at Maker Faire in Austin. Eepy Bird is known for its synchronized fountains from mixing Coke with Mentos.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET Networks)

AUSTIN, TEXAS--Who doesn't like watching the chemical reaction that happens when Mentos come in contact with Diet Coke?

Well, I can't prove that everyone in attendance at Maker Faire here Saturday loves the resulting fountains of soda, but several hundred people surely did.

That much was evident by the giant crowd that gathered for the show put on by Stephen Voltz and Fritz Grobe, perhaps better known as Eepy Bird, who clustered 128 Diet Coke bottles and hundreds of Mentos and put on one heck of an exhibition.

The two have now been doing their show all over the world, and I've seen it before, at the Maker Faire in San Mateo, Calif., last May. But that time, I was far behind the crowd, and couldn't see it that well.

This time, I was right in front and got a terrific view of the proceedings.

I had also been able to go behind their barrier a couple hours before their show to watch them set it up. That means, in part, loading a custom Mento delivery system for each and every Diet Coke bottle. It's painstaking work, but Voltz and Grobe seem to enjoy it. Or at least the fame.

One of the downsides, for me at least, of being up front, was that I got to find out what happens when you put your arm directly into a nest of fire ants. Several dozen stinging bites later, I knew to watch where I put my limbs the next time I'm in Texas.

With the mixture of Mentos to Diet Coke, sticky geysers shoot in the air to the roar of an adoring audience at Maker Faire Austin.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET News.com)

But despite the pain and embarrassment of falling prey to a whole lot of insects, I was very happy to be able to see the show from up front.

These guys are such showmen, and the crowd ate it up, cheering wildly each time a new row of bottles was set off, or made a row do crazy geometric patterns, or created back-and-forth waves.

In all, the show took only a couple minutes, and despite my being up front, I did not get soaked with Diet Coke. Probably all the better for the ants. More sticky soda goodness for them.

AUSTIN, Texas--OK, that was a lot of fun.

I'm here for Maker Faire, and one of the things I'd been most looking forward to after spending two days watching people set up things was seeing the folks from the blog Toolmonger.com rip down the shack they'd built just for that purpose.

At Toolmonger.com's Maker Faire exhibit in Austin, they built a small shack only for the purpose of tearing it down. It's part of the blog's 'breaking s#!$ week.'

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET Networks)

According to Chuck Cage from Toolmonger.com, they built the shack to showcase just how easy it is to, er, deconstruct something using the latest tools.

In this case, the tool is Stanley Tool's forthcoming FuBar III. And if you don't love the name of that tool, there's something wrong with you.

The FuBar III--according to Jimmy Addison, a product research analyst in Stanley's engineering and technology group--is designed for all kinds of things, as it has a built-in sledgehammer, a wedge, a board bender to rip out floor boards, a spanner wrench and a fire hydrant key. It's a beast of a tool, for sure.

Now, Cage and Addison are getting ready to tear the shack down, and the question is how long it will take. One woman estimates 29 seconds. I think it will take a bit more than that.

The Toolmongers.com guys and a representative from Stanley Tool's research and development team begin to rip apart the shack. The question is: How long will it take to tear it down?

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET Networks)

They begin to hack away at it, pounding little holes in the plywood walls, and slowly making progress.

They're swinging their FuBars like baseball bats, and the effect is great: loud banging, instant holes and ripped out beams.

Slowly, but surely--well, okay, quickly, they begin to show the shack who's boss. First one beam gets kicked out, and then another.

Stanley Tools' product research analyst Jimmy Addison goes to work tearing down the shack.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET Networks)

Addison begins hacking away at a pair of corner beams, but they're not coming down. Someone from the audience helpfully suggests that he take advantage of leverage and hit the bottom. Eventually, he catches on and down the beams come.

It's great fun watching this, and though it's happening very quickly, it actually does seem slow because it seems like the shack should just come down right away, given the beating they're giving it.

Addison rips the frame out of one of the walls of the shack.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET Networks)

Now, two walls are gone, and they're working on the last two. Cage starts repeatedly kicking one, hoping he can knock it down with his foot. After a few futile blows, it does indeed fall.

Toolmonger.com's Chuck Cage attempts to kick down one of the last walls of the shack.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET Networks)

And then, there was just one wall. They whale away at it, and then, with the crowd roaring, the structure falls amidst billowing dirt.

All told, it took them four minutes and five seconds to tear the shack down. And every second was fun to watch.

And for Addison? "It was absolutely a blast."

After four minutes and five seconds, the Toolmongers.com guys and Stanley Tools' Jimmy Addison finished tearing the shack down.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET Networks)

AUSTIN, Texas--Last night, with just 16 hours to go before the gates to Maker Faire were set to open here, there was a whole lot of empty space where the exhibitors, or "makers," were supposed to be. One crew member told me less than half of the 300-plus makers had signed in yet.

So, I wondered if it was all going to work out as planned.

While the grounds for Austin's Maker Faire looked mostly empty on Friday night, by Saturday morning, the place was full and all the exhibitors seemed to be where they were supposed to be.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET Networks)

Well, the proof is in the pudding, as the saying goes, and it turns out I should never have worried. By the time I arrived at the Travis County Fairgrounds here this morning, the place was packed with attendees and most, if not all, of the makers appeared to be where they were supposed to be.

As one local told me last night, people here do things on "Texas time," a reference to a more casual approach to things than you might find in, say, New York.

In fact, director Sherry Huss told me this morning that it's worked more or less the same for the two Maker Faires that have been held in San Mateo, Calif., in May 2006 and May 2007.

This was a surprise to me, I admit, because although I attended both of the previous Maker Faires, I wasn't there to see what they were like before the gates open.

Tens of thousands of people showed up for the first-ever Maker Faire to be held in Austin, Texas. The grounds at the Travis County Fairgrounds are big enough to make it hard to tell how many people are here, but in the Maker Store, you can tell how crowded the place is.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET Networks)

Anyway, the place is packed today. It turns out that while the Bay Area's San Mateo Fairgrounds seemed huge, that space is dwarfed by the fairgrounds here. Huss told me that the San Mateo grounds take up five acres. Here, it's 250 acres. Gulp. That's why, event producer Louise Glasgow told me, this facility can swallow 50,000 people without you really being able to tell.

And while I don't know if there's 50,000 people here, there certainly are a ton.

And, dare I say, I'm impressed.

AUSTIN, Texas--Every so often, a product comes along that just changes the game. The iPhone. The Segway. The Roomba.

Get ready to add the Pleo to that list.

A row of five prototype Pleos at the Maker Faire in Austin, Texas on October 19, 2007. These Pleos are not final production models, though they are very close.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET Networks)

The animatronic dinosaur Pleo is hotly anticipated to hit the market next year and it's already possible to pre-order one for $349. What makes this toy such a game changer is that it is so amazingly lifelike that it's hard not to treat it like it's real.

I first saw the Pleo at Demo '06. Back then, the toy was expected to be available by the 2006 holidays and to cost $200. So much for that plan. With that in mind, some healthy skepticism is warranted as to whether the toy's maker, Ugobe, can get it out any time soon.

'Make' magazine editor-in-chief and Boing Boing co-editor Mark Frauenfelder pets a Pleo at Maker Faire in Austin. The Pleo has sensors that allow it to walk to the edge of a table and stop before it falls off.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET Networks)

Still, this is one amazing toy. I played with it for a few minutes today during the final afternoon of preparations for Maker Faire in Austin, which begins Saturday and will continue through Sunday. It was totally charming. The Pleo has dozens of sensors, sensitive to light, to touch, and to edges, and so its behavior is somewhat akin to that of a pet.

It's not a pet, of course, but when you play with it, patting its head, or scratching its chin, and the little dinosaur purrs contentedly or tilts its head back in seeming bliss, it's hard not to believe it's alive.

A Pleo reacts with obvious pleasure and happiness when its chin is scratched.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET Networks)

So, I have little doubt that when it finally is for sale, it is going to set the toy industry on its ear. Consumers will be blown away by what it can do and how it behaves. Ugobe is going to take a further step toward making it fantastic by letting owners download new sounds onto it and to modify it with custom behaviors. (Thus, it really is a suitable product to exhibit at Maker Faire.)

Ugobe brought a bunch of Pleos, some of which are wearing green tags around their necks to designate them as "A-list performers," according to Ugobe employee Prema Polit. That means, she explained, that the green-taggers can be counted on to do what they're supposed to, move as expected, react as designed, and so forth. By the time they're released, of course, the company will ensure that all Pleos are A-listers.

Whether the amazement it generates will translate into huge sales is another question. The $349 price is pretty steep, even for such a lifelike creature, because, despite its realism, it can't do that many things.

I love it, though, and I want one. I'm not sure what I would do with it, particularly because I'm pretty sure my cat would have harsh words for it.

AUSTIN, TEXAS--I'm in the Texas capital for the first Maker Faire to be held here, and the gates will open to the public in 16 hours.

Yet, even at this late date, after nearly two full days of setup, less than half of the exhibitors, or "makers," have shown up yet.

Less than half the exhibitors at Maker Faire Austin had shown up, with just 16 hours to go before the event opens to the public Saturday morning at 10 a.m.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET Networks)

Which means that as you walk around the spacious grounds of Austin's Travis County Fairgrounds, it feels empty. Sure, there are dozens of makers already on hand, some of whom have put up some truly wonderful stuff.

But everywhere you look, there's space that, in theory at least, will be occupied by someone making cool felt toys, displaying fire art or showcasing the great things you can do with recycled materials.

In fairness, I have to think back to the first Maker Faire, which was held in San Meteo, Calif., in May 2006. The energy for that one was certainly kind of casual at the beginning, even if by the end, tens upon tens of thousands of people had visited and had a great time. This May, by contrast, the second Maker Faire in San Mateo felt much more urgent, and I suspect things were set up much earlier.

Still, to walk around the fairgrounds here in Austin this evening, with so much empty space, and at least 150 additional makers still to even arrive on the grounds, let alone be finished with their setup, is a little odd.

I think what is likely is that many of them will come streaming in until around 9 p.m. this evening--when I've heard the gates close--and another bunch will show up early tomorrow morning.

And somehow, despite what it feels like now, I am willing to say that come tomorrow at 10 when the gates open, the place will be packed and ready for the throngs that are no doubt going to come.

But I guess we'll see.

AUSTIN, Texas--I'm high in the air, aboard a carnival ride cum Burning Man art piece cum bicycle-tech-powered people mover known as the Star Wheel.

It's hard to describe this: It's a giant wheel, maybe 20 feet high that has three seats built into the middle of it--independent of the outer frame--that are geared to spin around when their occupants pedal like crazy. As they pedal, the wheel moves slowly forward while those inside whoop and scream their way through rapid 360 degree rotations.

Paul daPlumber and his Star Wheel crew work on their bicycle-tech-powered carnival ride at the Travis County fairgrounds in Austin, Texas, in preparation for the Maker Faire.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET Networks)

It's quite the experience. I had first seen this at Burning Man 2004, and then again the following year. I had always wanted to ride it because of its particularly silly blend of carnival attraction and obvious genius engineering. But I'd never gotten the chance.

So when I arrived Thursday at the Travis County fairgrounds--where Maker Faire Austin is taking place this weekend--to report on the preparations for the event, I was very pleased to see the Star Wheel being assembled.

At first, I just stood by and shot photographs as the project's crew put the finishing touches on it. They were working slowly and methodically, their progress slowed only by occasional lewd banter.

Finally, they were ready to try it out.

"I think that's it," the project's leader, Paul daPlumber, shouted out. "We're ready. Let's roll it over."

Rolling the Star Wheel anywhere is not the easiest of tasks. It requires several people to push it and turn it, and it's slow going. But the crew wanted to test it out in advance of letting hundreds of people ride it this weekend.

So, the team jumped on and started pushing and rolling it across the grounds. Six of them turned it 90 degrees so it was pointed in the right direction--aimed at the inside of the livestock building they were working just outside of--and they're talking about getting the first riders on it.

I really wanted to be in the first group, so I volunteered. But sadly, they already had three folks lined up. Swallowing my disappointment, I followed them into the building, snapping photos, taking notes and watching.

As the Star Wheel moved forward, they realized it was on a path to collide with something, so they stopped and redirected it a few feet. After that, the three guys riding it started whooping and screaming, especially as they neared full upside-down turns.

One of the people watching this was Maker Faire safety officer Joseph Pred--stay tuned for a story on his role here later. I asked him what he thought about the test.

"They're testing it because they've never done it on a grade," Pred said. The Black Rock desert in Nevada, where Burning Man is held is flat, so "they're testing the tolerances. My job is to observe and help them figure it out, and give them a nudge. And they're doing a good job."

Just about then, they did indeed begin to take the Star Wheel down the slight incline. It was slight, so it wasn't too much extra work, but it was the first time they'd ever done it, and the tension rose.

Just about then, the crew stopped the Star Wheel and decided to get some new riders. I eagerly volunteered, and next thing you know, I'm sitting in one of the seats, belted in like crazy and holding onto the "Oh f--- bars" that are designed to keep riders from falling out of their seats.

The wheel begins to move and I begin to pedal and it's crazy fun. But also crazy scary. My knuckles are white as I grab hold of those bars with all my life, knowing that at any moment, the whole thing could fall apart and I could fall to my death.

The Star Wheel emerges from a livestock building at the Travis County fairgrounds with three riders having the time of their life.

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET News.com)

But it doesn't fall, and we roll forward slowly, the three of us riders spinning around on a vertical axis in glee, baking in the Texas sun and loving every moment of it.

I decide that if I die, well, at least I was having fun when it happened.

The thing is, though, these guys know what they're doing. The Star Wheel is very well engineered, with many redundant failure points, so as I ride, I become more and more confident that the bolts won't shear off and I won't get crushed.

That confidence allows me to enjoy it more.

Finally, I get off and pull daPlumber aside for a quick chat about the project.

He tells me that he and his crew of six drove the wheel from San Francisco on a trailer behind a pickup. It then took a day-and-a-half to put together, the most time-consuming part of it being the painting it needed to look shiny and colorful again after much of it had been stored in the Nevada desert for the last couple of years.

"It's just a lot of labor," said daPlumber. "There are 300 nuts and bolts, so it's a lot of nutting and bolting."

He added that while this is the first time he's brought the Star Wheel anywhere other than Burning Man, he has fantasies of taking it to parades and possibly even to Mardi Gras in New Orleans in February.

For daPlumber, the best thing about the Star Wheel is watching people have fun riding it and directing it.

"It's just great, it's very spiritual and visceral and real," he said.

Finally, I say goodbye and begin to walk off. And just as I'm doing so, I hear daPlumber say one last thing.

"Thanks for flying," he said. "We know you have a choice in bicycle carnival rides, and we'd like to thank you."

AUSTIN, Texas--If you've never seen a machine that makes 3D models out of sugar, you should.

But unless you're part of a relatively small group of people who went to the Maker Faire in California in May, or are one of a few other people who know the machine's creator, you probably have never even heard of the device.

Similarly, you may not be aware--or at least the general public probably isn't--that there is a whole movement going on right now to build advanced, digital, relatively inexpensive personal fabrication and robotics tools that can do or create some very cool things like laser etchings on laptops or iPods, 3D models of virtual world avatars, Lego models of almost anything, and many other kinds of projects.

A primary example of the places that offer these kinds of tools and project support is MIT's Fab Lab.

As Wikipedia's entry on such fab labs puts it: "While fab labs cannot compete with mass production and its associated economies of scale in fabricating widely distributed products, they have the potential to empower individuals to create smart devices for themselves. These devices can be tailored to local or personal needs in ways that are not practical or economical using mass production."

On Thursday, as many of the organizers of Maker Faire Austin and the so-called "makers" themselves began gathering to prepare for this weekend's event, they took time out for what they called a "fabrication summit," a discussion of such tools, and more importantly, how to get them into the hands of and in front of a larger number of people.

Hosted by Make magazine editor and publisher Dale Dougherty, the meeting--attended by some of the most accomplished people in the personal fabrication field--became a referendum on what it might take to get the masses interested in these kinds of tools and machines.

No conclusions were reached, but there were some insights that might help the group reach its goal--particularly about why most people may not know about this kind of technology.

On Thursday, some of the organizers of Maker Faire, as well as some of the 'makers' themselves gathered for a 'fabrication summit' in Austin.'

(Credit: Daniel Terdiman/CNET News.com)

"By far the biggest obstacle is fear," said Jim Newton, the founder and managing director of TechShop, a business in Menlo Park, Calif., that offers drop-in access to a wide range of fabrication tools. "People are afraid to try this. Very few people want to make things anymore because they've built up this fear. Aside from providing the actual tools, (it's necessary) to get people past the fear. It's (about showing) people that they can do this: 'You don't have to be an engineer. You can do this yourself.'"

Another meeting attendee, Make senior editor Phil Torrone, suggested that the way to getting people interested in using these kinds of tools, particularly young people, is to show them how to use the technology on their favorite devices.

"People under 18 want to (laser) etch their iPods and cell phones," Torrone said. "But the people that have this equipment are engineers. It's like a drug (though). You let them try it and get them addicted. You have to have a gateway drug. You have to give them something interesting first. And there are a hundred million iPods."

Lifehacker.com editor Gina Trapani had 'Make' magazine senior editor Phil Torrone etch a symbol of an Irish knot on her PowerBook. Here, the machine is still doing the etching.

(Credit: Gina Trapani/Lifehacker.com)

But as Ted Hall, president of computer-controlled machine tool company ShopBot put it, "There's still very little awareness of digital fabrication capabilities. It's amazing to me how little awareness (there is) of how much can be done."

Part of the problem, Hall added, is terminology. For example, one important term in the personal fabrication field is CNC, or computer numerical control, which is part of the system that ShopBot uses. Hall said tools must have more accessible names.

For example, he pointed to concept of the 3D printer, a device that can build a three-dimensional physical model based on digital images. "Printer," Hall said, offers "a word of explanation that conveys everything that it is going to do. And for many of the other tools, that's not the case."

The meeting ended without specific resolutions or recommendations, but it appeared that those involved left inspired to promote their movement and to help bring the new tools to the public in a way they feel will empower the masses to do whole lot more creating on their own.