Artifact Blog

In "The Personal is Historical," Bruce Sterling uses the word authenticity to, what I believe, describe a person following their passion. This passion is a desire and an ability that comes from within a person's being. Sterling writes about his father who made his career in a technology based world. He, like the rest of the world, was a consumer in a product technosociety. We live in an age of constantly changing technology. Technology intrigues us, helps us and in many ways makes our lives better. We see and want the latest and the greatest of devices. As I eye the newest iPad imagining replacing my less than year old iPad 2 I am reminded that I am certainly a consumer in a product technosociety. I believe Bruce Sterling's point is that being a consumer in a product technosociety is not “authentic.” It is temporary and not true happiness.

While reading "The Personal is Historical" I could not help but think of my own father and what he has taught me about being "authentic". He grew up with my Irish immigrant grandfather who built homes. My father like Sterling's father became an engineer. Today my father runs large construction projects. I know that he loves his job but I also know how much he enjoys building things in his workshop at home. I think his roots of carpentry run deep and it is the source for his passion.  Building and working with his hands is what I now know to call my father's "authenticity". It is pure and unchanging. It brings him pride and happiness. Over the years my father has encouraged me to build things.  Now every spring as I re-paint the flower boxes I built my mother years ago, I remember every saw cut and nail.

I do not believe carpentry will be my 'authenticity". I, like Sterling's daughters, grew up in the age of computer and games and I believe that is where my "authenticity" lies. But I will always admire my father's "authenticity".

Some things that are “authentic” in my world and bring me nostalgia are gaming devices. But at the same time, there are some gadgets in my father's workshop that remind me of the family I come from.

That's me at left who forgot to look at the camera.