Tag: Agency

Categories
Art and Artists Living

Occupying the Artificial

There is a distinct texture to the modern shopping mall – polished tile, recycled air, and the relentless, humming promise that satisfaction is just a credit card swipe away. They’re designed to be transient; a place of movement, transaction, and eventual departure. You are not supposed to stay. You are certainly not supposed to live at the mall.

But recently, I came across a recommendation from Kevin Kelly about the documentary Secret Mall Apartment (currently on Netflix), which chronicles a band of artists who did exactly that. For years, they maintained a hidden sanctuary inside a busy mall.

“It is way more interesting and inspiring than first appears. It was a bold work of art, and I came away seeing art as a way of life.” — KK

This was art as an act of occupation. These artists didn’t just build a set; they altered their reality. They took a space designed for public consumption and carved out a private, human intimacy. They looked at the rigid architecture of the commercial world and saw a loophole, a blank canvas hidden behind the drywall.

Perhaps we should ask: Where are the secret apartments in our own lives?

We live in structures—both physical and digital—that are designed by others. It is easy to feel that our role is simply to navigate these spaces as they were intended. But the artist looks at the “mall” of daily existence and asks, “Where can I build something that is solely mine?”

Art as a “way of life” means we stop waiting for permission to be creative. It means we stop waiting for the studio or the gallery. For that “special” time or place. Instead we find the hollow spaces in our schedules, our environments, and our relationships, and we fill them with intention.

The sheer audacity of living in a mall was about a refusal to accept the world merely as it is presented – a reclaiming of individual agency.

Perhaps the most inspiring art in our lives isn’t what hangs on a wall, but how we choose to inhabit the “rooms” we walk through every day.

Categories
Africa Energy

Carrying the Light

We often imagine that the solutions to our biggest problems will be loud. We expect them to arrive with the ribbon-cutting of a massive power plant, the roar of a new turbine, or the stroke of a pen on comprehensive legislation.

But in South Africa, where the national grid has become a flickering ghost of its former self, the solution isn’t arriving with a bang. It is arriving in the form of a 23-pound box, carried by hand into a tin shack, priced at two dollars a day.

I was reading a recent story in The New York Times about the rental battery boom in townships like Tembisa. It describes a barber, Anselmo Munghabe, who was forced to close his shop for a month because the grid couldn’t keep his clippers running. His livelihood—his connection to his community—was severed not by a lack of skill, but by a lack of voltage. Then came the rental batteries: portable, solar-charged blocks of energy that can be rented, used to power a business or a nebulizer or a television, and then swapped out.

“Renting a small battery is far cheaper than buying solar panels and batteries outright. ‘I think this is a game changer,’ said Ifeoma Malo… ‘This is creating inclusiveness in access.'” — The New York Times

There is something profoundly philosophical in this shift from the “macro” to the “micro.” For decades, the assumption was that the state provides the power, and the citizen consumes it. It was a vertical relationship, dependent on the stability of the giant at the top. But as South Africa’s coal-heavy grid stumbles under the weight of age and mismanagement, that vertical trust has broken. In its place, a horizontal, modular resilience is emerging.

This isn’t just about electricity; it is about agency. When you rent a battery for the day, you are no longer waiting for permission to work, to learn, or to breathe. You are uncoupling your fate from the failures of the system. It reminds me of the way the internet decentralized information—now, solar technology and battery storage are decentralizing the very energy of life.

Of course, there is a melancholy here, too. It is an indictment of a system that forces its most vulnerable citizens to pay a premium for what should be a basic utility. And yet, there is undeniable beauty in the adaptation. We see the grandmother powering her TV to stay connected to the world, and the barber sweeping hair from the floor under the glow of an LED strip powered by stored sunlight.

We spend so much time waiting for the world to be fixed from the top down. But perhaps the real story of our time is that we are learning to carry the light ourselves, one heavy, rental box at a time.

Categories
AI AI: Large Language Models

The Texture of Autonomy

There is a distinct texture to working with a truly capable person. It is a feeling of relief, specific and profound.

When you hand a project to a junior employee who “gets it,” the mental load doesn’t just decrease; it vanishes. You don’t have to map the territory for them. You don’t have to pre-visualize every stumble or correct every navigational error. You simply point to the destination, and they find their way.

I was thinking about this feeling—this specific brand of professional trust—when I read a recent observation from two partners at Sequoia regarding the current state of Artificial Intelligence:

“Generally intelligent people can work autonomously for hours at a time, making and fixing their mistakes and figuring out what to do next without being told. Generally intelligent agents can do the same thing. This is new.”

The phrase that sticks with me is “without being told.”

For the last forty years, our relationship with computers has been strictly transactional. The computer waits. We command. It executes. Even the most sophisticated algorithms have essentially been waiting for us to hit “Enter.” They are tools, no different in spirit than a very fast abacus or a hyper-efficient typewriter.

But we are crossing a threshold where the software stops waiting.

The definition of intelligence in a workspace isn’t just raw processing power; it is the ability to recover from failure without supervision. It is the capacity to run into a wall, realize you have hit a wall, back up, and look for a door—all while the manager is asleep or working on something else.

When Sequoia notes that “this is new,” they aren’t talking about a feature update. They are talking about a shift in the ontology of our tools. We are moving from an era of leverage (tools that make us faster) to an era of agency (tools that act on our behalf).

This changes the psychological contract between human and machine. If an agent can “figure out what to do next,” we are no longer operators; we are managers. And as anyone who has transitioned from individual contributor to management knows, that is a fundamentally different skill set. It requires clearer intent, better goal-setting, and the ability to trust a process you cannot entirely see.

We are about to find out what it feels like to have a digital colleague that doesn’t just listen, but actually thinks about the next step.

Categories
AI AI: Large Language Models

The Shipping Manifest

“Recursive self-improvement has graduated from a safety paper to a shipping manifest.”

For years, “recursive self-improvement”—the idea of AI building better versions of itself—was a concept relegated to academic safety papers and late-night philosophy forums. It was a theoretical horizon event, something to be modeled, debated, and perhaps feared.

But this morning, the tone shifted. As noted in a briefing this morning from @alexwg, recursive self-improvement has graduated from a safety paper to a shipping manifest.

The evidence is tangible. Anthropic confirmed that their new “Claude Code” wrote the entire Claude Cowork desktop app in a mere week and a half. This isn’t just code completion; it is code creation at a structural level. More importantly, this app grants the AI direct access to the file system. It is no longer trapped in a chat window, floating in the abstract void of the cloud. It has touched down. It can sort downloads, generate reports, and effectively reorganize “local reality.”

Simultaneously, the definition of “colleague” is dissolving. The CEO of McKinsey dropped a quiet bombshell, revealing that the firm now counts AI agents as “people” that the firm “employs.” The current census? 40,000 humans and 20,000 agents. The goal is parity within 18 months.

We are witnessing a fundamental agentic shift. When a consultancy firm—the bastion of human capital and billable hours—begins to view synthetic agents not as tools (CAPEX) but as employees (OPEX), the psychological contract of work changes. We are moving away from a world where we use software to a world where we manage it.

The org chart is no longer a biological tree; it is becoming a hybrid network. The recursive loop isn’t coming; it’s already clocked in.