Quantifying Research and Development in Everyday Experiences

Growing up, I was terrified of math. I was terrible at it and this was mostly because I didn't realize math was a means to engage the world and make sense of it. Without a big picture, I failed to see the relationship between the smaller bits and pieces taught in the classroom.  For years on end,  I had no understanding that the various lessons of Algebra class were distinct kinds of problems, requiring distinct methods. I truly thought that all my math lessons were sequential, building upon previous steps and methods, because that was how my other classes had been structured. Consequently, algebra made no sense, it was fragments stacked on fragments.Geometry was more intuitive, but for some reason, was only taught later, after one 'masters' algebra. In the meanwhile, I could wrap my head around the problems posed in physics class - even had a strong sense of intuition for it - and I didn't understand why.

I went to art college in part because it didn't require math. But while I was there, I became curious, wondering if I could build a different relationship with the subject. I began to read books on the history of zero and the lives of mathematicians. When I went to grad school for urban planning, I was deeply motivated to confront this fear. In my second semester I was faced with a graduate statistics course. It was very hard at the time, often demanding up to 25 hours a week of dedicated study because everything was new. I earned a B, and a lifetime of insight,  as with continued practice over the years, I developed an intuition for statistical reasoning. Statistical reasoning had profound consequences on my life.  Whereas art education established a foundation in abstraction and abductive logic, statistics created a path to order and qualify worldly observations.

Over the years, I came to realize that quantitative reasoning is not a special thing, but simply sits on a continuum with other ways to engage and make sense of the world. As a designer, I learned to make things with materials to shape the world. By extension, the creation of graphs, charts, maps, scratch paper and spreadsheets are the material mediums by which we can numerically interpret the world around us. With math we can make visible the invisible. 

Today I do not draw a strong distinction between qualitative and quantitative information. The corner of my basement exemplifies this relationship. I am brewing beer and hard cider. I have scales and beakers, Erlenmeyer flasks, distilled water and sanitation equipment. I have many different kinds of yeasts, with labels like EC-1118, also known as champagne yeast. I log my activities in an excel sheet. I calculate any many billions of yeast cells are necessary for fermentation at a given volume and temperature, dependent upon the quantity and type of sugars in the beverage.  I built a webform to ease my data input, logging information on my spreadsheets like the temperature of the water when I add ingredients,  or where those ingredients come from. Standardizing all the inputs,  I can then scale my production, tweak variables, and make projections on new recipes. I do not do this as scientific research, but as an artistic exercise, wildly experimenting with the transformation of everyday elements from my home and neighborhood into consumable adult beverages.

But the data is merely a representation, like a painting or a piece of music, which I use to compose a bottle of beer. The music note, on a piece of paper has no sound - nor can one taste decimal points. If I make a great bottle of beer, then maybe you can taste the story of its making, get closer to the place where the ingredients were farmed. You probably won't taste the math. The math just helps me keep things clean, repeatable, and helps me keep track of my emerging story so I can learn from it. Perhaps one day, if I build enough data, it will enable the discovery of new stories, to propose new formulations. But at the end of the day, the value of the work is derived from the joy of making with patience, care, and love. Quantification, if done well, enables the exploration of that joy so that others may share it.