The Brittle Spear VII: New Business Models

Green begets green. If we want to save the planet, then we should make it profitable to do so. That sadly is the only real path to implementing genuinely global solutions for the hastening end of life on this planet. Our consumption is consuming our home. Our joys in life, achievements, goals are often expressed in stuff. We work for stuff which then gets dug up in one of a million places, shipped to and fro, and ends up in our possession. This stuff is increasingly fragile, shoddier quality, not meant to last long, and we are destined to hang on to it for shorter periods. Then it gets buried in the ground, awaiting perplexed archeologists. Layer upon layer of detritus.

Our layer-by-layer 3D printing solutions may yet alleviate some harm. We could repair things, extend them, repurpose things, and may yet make an aftermarket for many things. But, this is a bit like “rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.” Sorry to sound so morose, but plasters can’t save gangrenous limbs. What is happening, however helpful and good-natured, is a sop to a tidal wave. We need to direct the power of the invisible hand towards saving our planet. If we can force the creative solutions and power of free enterprise toward solving the world’s problems, then we stand a chance. By 3D printing money, we can save our world.      

A friend of mine opined that bike-sharing was more environmentally friendly than cars and than owning your own bicycle. Theoretically, the “sharing economy” would indeed be a boon; with an efficient allocation and fewer individual vehicles, less material would make more trips. Sadly, modern-day entrepreneurship manages to destroy even simple logical opportunities such as these. Many global cities have had problems with bike pollution as millions of inexpensive bicycles were dumped across the world. Scooter sharing platform Lime says that its scooters last five months. But, external data suggest that Lime, Bird, and other shared scooters last around 28 days. 

Every 28 days, each of these vehicles has to be replaced. But, no mind, given their low cost, this can still be profitable. Its peak human idiocy this kind of thing. But, from the company standpoint is only logical. Making better scooters would eat up more capital now, and they may then get stolen, which would be a higher risk to them. Even the most newfangled businesses that could bring huge gains for the environment as happy externalities, manage to mangle them. From an environmental standpoint, it may actually be better to give everyone their own new scooter; that’s how shoddy these things are.

Without the proper incentives, similar businesses will all come to roughly the same conclusions. Although it is notable that once cities adopt a single bike-sharing scheme throughout the town, these bikes look much more sturdy and durable. Incentives, individual decision-makers, accounting, projections, and goal setting in enterprises, therefore, have a huge impact on the detrimental or positive environmental effects of business. 

In Spain where I am now, we have a shop called Ale Hop, in other places you may have Flying Tiger. If you’re unfamiliar with either, they are direct to landfill stores. Imagine if you hunted night and day for the worst, cheapest stuff on Ali Baba and just put it all in a store. Ale Hop and Flying Tiger have single used the rest of your house, and everything in these stores is of an abysmally low quality. But, for someone willing to pass the time when there’s nothing on Netflix, buying some trinket may very well suffice.

In this example, there is no quality competitor in the space, but these stores eat away at other more honest brokers through offering cheaper products. Could we compete with such a store and make impulse buy sustainable things? Could we have an Ale Hop with all the products made out of glass, so then at least it can be readily recycled? A cork based Flying Tiger? Or in this case, would the best environmental course of action be to put cooler stuff on Netflix, so people don’t leave the house at all? 

Our cargo cult is perplexing, as are the incentives in it. This Wall-E prequel we’re living in isn’t a simple Rubik’s Cube to solve. Destroying the planet is currently free, and it is often cheaper to dig up new earth for new things than to use existing things or recycle. Taxes or grants could change that somewhat, but measures would have to be sweeping and all-encompassing. It’s hard to believe that we’ll pull off some global whip-round and hosanna sing our way into the collective glory of shared action now, though. Out of all the things we could and should do, I can only see a lever big enough to move the world on the materials side. 

If low cost recycled material could be used in wide applications in a predictable and certified way, we would use what we have much more efficiently. If we then made recycling systems more dynamic and local, we could reuse these materials in a targeted manner. The idea of putting a StuffDNA or SDNA mark on all things which would then tell you what the provenance of the thing is, what it is made of, what the material ingredients were, the MSDS etc. is still a relevant one. If that code was easily machine-readable, we could automate the recycling of many things and use things more efficiently.

We could then use a car mirror as a dashboard part, and the next cycle it could be repurposed into a dashboard filler part. If materials companies then started to see their business as one of Materials-as-a-Service then they would turn themselves into custodians of materials not destroyers of the world. With 3D printing we could in this system locally repair and recycle materials into new objects efficiently. To me, the solution would be something like this. What do you think?  

Image Credit: Kristoffer Tolle, Tony Webster, William Murphy, Paulvanderwerf, Chinnian.

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The Brittle Spear Part V: Mine Your Den for Aftermarket 3D Printing

There is a thriving aftermarket in automobiles, including spoilers for cars, new Dubs, and, more obviously, mufflers. Air intakes that don’t take in air and optimization kits for engines are an extensive business. You will be surprised at how extensive it is, that the car aftermarket market is worth $318 billion or 3.2% of GDP in the US

A section of this market is straight-up replacement parts, OEM and remanufactured spares. Of course, we understand that there is a huge opportunity there for 3D printing these extensive stocks of parts.

Additionally, there is also the aftermarket accessories segment of this market. The accessories business is not made up of replacement, identical components but upgraded, redesigned, changed or somehow improved parts that add to the existing automobile. An outrageous spoiler or ground effect kit, faux carbon fiber are some of the typical examples here. Things like new engine management chips, light packages, and barbecues for your tailgate can also belong in this category. The automotive aftermarket is growing at a steady clip and benefits from hardcore hobbyists and specific subcultures and the public at large improving, customizing or adding to their cars. So, if the automotive aftermarket is so large, why isn’t there an aftermarket for all the other things? 

Imagine if we not only produced spares, let people do digital kintsugi and made readymades, but also extended the lives of objects in organized, commercial ways. There are already camera accessories, and this is also a large market. The level of expression and customization found in the automotive market is lacking there, as well. There is a lively and very competitive phone accessories market worldwide, but considering just how many of these devices there are—over 5 billion—the levels of expression there can seem quite tame. Why aren’t there iPhone cases for every subculture in every country? Why can’t you get a customized case for my phone based on my kid’s T-Ball jersey?

It is clear that the extension of these markets toward more low-volume customization is something that we, as a 3D printing industry, could undertake. Any kind of mass-customized, low-volume, local manufacturing and niche application is a potential business case for 3D printing. By coupling our manufacturing capacity with easy-to-customize and design software, we could very well extend our reach to many more markets at comparatively little cost.

LED Camera ring.

This will happen eventually, but rather than everyone trying to make the same five parts, we should really consider many more industries and parts globally. Too much of our collective attention is focused on trying to impress the same five guys in aerospace or in the same three conference rooms in shoes. There are opportunities there, but there are tens of thousands of other companies that could use our help. Additions to cameras and consumer electronics are small, high-value parts that can radically extend the life of a much larger, much more complex object. By letting people radically customize these objects through making them one’s own we can give these markets a new dimension. 

A mount that turns 6 action cams into a 360-degree camera.

A person may like to shoot an analog camera but want to attach a digital light meter to it. At the same time, modern flashes may not fit their camera. I’ve talked to dozens of people who wish to 3D print old car nameplates and signage but no one thinks of doing this for anything that is not a car. Maybe you’d like to put your name on your old camera? Or you could think of badges to adorn it.

At the same time, it is insane that there is no service that makes customized handgrips for your camera. There are lots of downloadable, 3D printed camera attachments and many that attach them to drones. There are no businesses that attach cameras to just about anything as a business targeted at consumers.

The expression on the camera is currently limited to what you see through the lens. Why not have replaceable elements in different colors? Why not look at frame parts that fail and redesign them to be superior? Why not do that but in a nice bright pink or neon? Why can’t I have a camera that exactly fits my hand? Why isn’t there a company that weatherproofs existing cameras? Why isn’t there a company that makes many different custom enclosures for cameras to dive with them? I’d much rather go diving with my old camera than my new one. 

Why aren’t their kits to turn your old camera or phone into a Ring or dashcam? Why can’t I get new apertures for every camera? Why can’t I buy kits to turn my old Nikon into the best street shooter DSLR?

A RC camera car

If we just take the camera example, we can already see a plethora of ideas emerge. There are many potential niche businesses there that could be very profitable. But, what of old lamps? Kits to change their lightbulb connections into LED holders, make them dimmable, change them to disco lamps? Where is a simple instruction to turn grandma’s old pendant lamp into a cool college kid lamp? Why can’t I just transform my old lamps easily to fit new interiors?

Why can’t kids remake toys or upgrade them to grow along with them? We know that they like to play with physical objects such as LEGOs, but why not let them design a path for Barbie or G.I. Joe to last longer in their lives. Why is extensibility not built-in? In a world where everything is cost-focused and mercenary, we simply don’t have the time or money to make things extensible or long-lasting. 

A universal iPhone mount can repurpose many devices.

There is a huge opportunity to extend the life of love objects. But, we can also give new functionality and new experiences to people around existing objects. That drawer you have with eight old phones and 60 cables in it is a goldmine waiting to be excavated. Years ago, I tried to start a maker project around reusing old iPhones for new applications. It went nowhere, but I assured myself that surely someone else will capitalize on this opportunity. People were making millions off of selling new makers new things surely they could also capitalize on them mining their own dens? Somehow this hasn’t worked. 

Perhaps it’s a lack of imagination or the fact that it is not as obvious a path to making money, but these kinds of opportunities are underexploited. 

With billions of consumer electronics, bicycle, kitchen, and furniture items worldwide, there is a huge potential for repurposing, customizing, and making cooler the things we already have. We could be creative with these objects through readymades, but a well-organized aftermarket could sell billions of accessories for the things that already are. With the world’s attention focused on selling and making the new, adding to the old may make you a new mining baron.       

Part I of this series can be found here, Part II is here.

Index image a Blythe c, Public Domain. Stefan Magdalinksy.

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The Brittle Spear Part III: Digital Kintsugi and 3D Printed Spare Parts

In this series, previously we looked at how we’re creating a system designed to spit out less able things and that these things may be better but will be less robust and more challenging to repair. As the tip of the spear grows ever sharper, it also becomes more brittle. We have more things, but they will last longer (in the natural environment), and we will find it easier to throw them away. Rather than individual firms designing certain things for planned obsolescence, we are, all of us, participating in a system that produces more fragile items with shorter life spans. We cannot fight this system head-on, but we may be able to subvert it, change it and help us all. The path to extricating ourselves from a disposable world is Digital Kintsugi.

Kintsugi is a Japanese method of repairing broken pottery with gold and lacquer. A fractured ceramic piece is then proudly restored with a clear remnant of the breakage visible to all. 

“Not only is there no attempt to hide the damage, but the repair is literally illuminated… a kind of physical expression of the spirit of mushin….Mushin is often literally translated as ‘no mind,’ but carries connotations of fully existing within the moment, of non-attachment, of equanimity amid changing conditions. …The vicissitudes of existence over time, to which all humans are susceptible, could not be clearer than in the breaks, the knocks, and the shattering to which ceramic ware too is subject. This poignancy or aesthetic of existence has been known in Japan as mono no aware, a compassionate sensitivity, or perhaps identification with, [things] outside oneself.”

— Christy Bartlett, Flickwerk: The Aesthetics of Mended Japanese Ceramics

In terms like “mono no aware” and “wabi-sabi” and the related “kintsugi”, we have a potential philosophical and cultural counterweight to contemporary consumer culture. By accepting transience and transformation, by being okay with imperfection and seeing a repaired thing as somehow improved, we can get passed our shrink-wrapped existence. And its Japanese, too, like manga and sushi. 

We live in a world where we lust after things. Indeed, many of our ambitions and desires are for things, and we give our lives for stuff. The moment one acquires the desired something, it fades, slips into being spurned, is then forsaken, and begins somehow to rot. A thing will never fulfill us, but we don’t realize this and instead lust after new newer things. We’re chasing a thing-related high that doesn’t exist.

Kintsugi will help us to break through these barriers. What’s more, we’re no longer making or recycling for making’s sake, nor are we doing it for some grand sustainability goal, we are doing it also to celebrate this thing. Rather than focus our attention on the unattainable new, kintsugi places it on the mindful now of things we already have. 

A patina on some steels or worn leather and just-right jeans are already examples of wear and tear that are celebrated. We just have to extend scratches on polymer and other everyday damage to the realm of the beautiful. 

With 3D printing, we can make things last longer. We can make spare parts and create out-of-production spares to extend the life of many everyday objects. Many more people will need to be able to design for this to take on meaningful proportions of all the things. Perhaps, if our phones became 3D scanners or if it were easier to take 2D and make it 3D, we could radically extend the life of many things.

In particular, small spare parts are very inexpensive when 3D printed on desktop machines and even through services. If the alternative is for the user to throw away the good, then any single repair using a 3D printed part would be extremely valuable for the environment. Imagine if one CAD file leads to 1,000 coffee makers not being thrown away. Now, digital spare parts are part of grand EU initiatives—or the plans of single individuals running into a part that they need—but a more organized approach would be very valuable. 

If we looked at the sum total of e-waste and what were the most popular items to see how they could be repurposed or extended, then we could in, and organized way make the world a lot more sustainable through 3D printing. There are many spares already being made, from Playmobil skateboard wheels, to bass guitar parts to switches for venerable La Pavoni espresso machines. On platforms like Thingiverse or YouMagine we can already see that spare parts are a lively and very popular category. 

Organically and without a business model, it is already growing. From handles for Mokka Makers to the incredibly popular vacuum cleaner parts category to the super-specific, such as a faceplate for a joystick used in forestry equipment, we are currently making a mark.  

Guided development, easier CAD, and better 3D scanning will help but a philosophical edge, and new coolness will do wonders also. Patagonia’s worn wear is a great example of obviously repaired clothing that gives everyone involved a good feeling while extending the life of things. 

In the 3D printing community, we are repairing things because we can, but we need to see if we can make this cool, even desirable. Obviously-repaired objects proudly displaying their scars needs to be an established practice that adds sparkle and history to otherwise quotidian things—especially in a world with so few things that last any effort to extend the life of things, a little bit will do wonders for us all. 

The Japanese don’t use transparent lacquer; they mix in gold to heighten the repair, give it luster, and get one to notice it. What could we do to make 3D printed repairs beautifully obvious? Could we use Bronzefill, a particular purple, or make the 3D printed layers more obvious? What do you think?  

Creative Commons Attribution: Ervaar Japan, Ervaar Japan, Steenaire.

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