Blossom

Woooohhw!

I just completed my last official "nature walk;" and I have to say, a lot has changed. In five weeks, the beach has experienced a remarkable face-life. The lake was frozen and there was snow on the ground, when I started my biomimicry course. Now, the lake is open and the leaves are starting to bud:


As nature is blossoming, so too are my skills in exercising the principles of this emerging discipline. Biomimicry is fascinating. It's a field where one must balance big picture thinking with a microscopic attention to detail. It opens your eyes to the incredible amount of innovation that has occurred and is occurring all around us.

On my first "nature walk" my attention went to the largest object in the area - the lake. It was an interesting experience to use my senses to take it all in... or what I thought was all in. The lake was just one of an infinite number of biological happenings that my attention is just learning to experience.

An example - on my second "nature walk" I noticed these:


The big Cottonwood trees that surround Hidden Beach.

Now, I notice things like this:


It's a piece of bark from a decaying Cottonwood tree. The bark is covered with bugs who are using the bark for food and shelter. Cool, huh?

I wouldn't have noticed this piece on my first or second walk, because I found this bark 20 feet off of the worn path. And I wouldn't have noticed these bugs because I wouldn't have bothered to turn the bark over.

Studying Biomimicry changes how you engage with nature - it takes you off the path, it gets you dirty and it sets your mind a blaze with endless design inspiration. It's frustrating because you start to wonder how we ever got so distant form natural forms of innovation, but it also provides hope for a future abundant with product and process innovation inspired by nature.

You shocked me like an electric eel

Last week I attempted to prototype an energy storage system that mimicked the biological energy storage capacity of the Amazon electric eel.


Eight mason jars, four pipe cleaners, some electric tape, some climbing rope, some red tinted juice and an extension chord later, I had myself a Frankenstein version of an eel's energy storage system. Do not let the extension chord fool you; this mess produced little more than a sticky table. You have to start somewhere right?

My vision for the prototype is a biologically inspired, biologically friendly energy storage device to power future cars. Car batteries are a big problem. Even in the most fuel efficient vehicles, there lies a battery that was expensive to make, contains hazardous materials and will one day end up in a landfill or impound. My goal was to create a battery concept that was more efficient and more echo-friendly using lessons from the electric eel.


Electric eels produce and store energy naturally. In some cases they can release a bolt of energy as strong as 600 volts. The species is able to produce, store and release a massize amount of energy without harming its organs. It's brilliant!

As I understand it, an eel’s food is turned into electrolytes, which is stored in biological muscle sacks. When activated the muscle cells squeeze, releasing the ions into a channeled chemical bath producing an electric current.

Although my prototype used glass jars, I envision a long chain of flexible pouches (or electro-cells) that would store and release "fuel" in unison, according to the needs of an engine.

Like this:

Biomimicry provides incredible inspiration to the design process. However, it is easy to sample one function of a living creature while ignoring the other principles of life:

Here's a reminder of the Six Life Principles:

A. Life creates conditions conducive to life
1. Optimizing Rather than Maximizing
Using multi-functional design
Fitting form to function

2. Leveraging Interdependence
Recycling all materials
Fostering cooperative relationships
Self-organizing

3. Benign Manufacturing
Using life-friendly materials
Using water-based chemistry
Using self-assembly

B. Life adapts and evolves
4. Locally Attuned and Responsive
Resourceful and opportunistic
Shape rather than material
Cellular and nested
Simple, common building blocks
Free energy
Feedback Loops
Antenna, signal, and response
Learns and imitates

5. Integrates Cyclic Processes
Feedback loops
Cross-pollination and mutation

6. Resilient
Diverse
Decentralized and distributed
Redundant

All in all, I'd give my design a C - it hits on some key characteristics of natural design, but fails to cover all of the bases.

What went right:

Locally Attuned and Responsive
The design is resourceful. In place of an inorganic heap of metal, I'm proposing a coil of flexible earth friendly sacks that leverage the natural building block style of design to store and deliver energy.
Integrates Cyclic Processes
The success of my prototype depends on a coordinated response of each unit. Therefore it leverages the concepts of building in feedback loops to organize and execute on a function.
Benign Manufacturing
Compared to the alternatives, this concept is extremely earth friendly. Although I envision component pieces being made from organic materials, the first few iterations would most likely depend on materials like rubber or plastic.
Optimizing Rather than Maximizing
Since the design is based on a string of component pieces, I do not believe that it is outrageous to create something that is extremely flexible to reconfiguration and reassembly.
Leveraging Interdependence
This system is all about cooperating with the larger ecosystem of an automobile. This concept would communicate with a "smart engine" and know how and when to deliver energy, maximizing the resources of the entire system.
Resilient
A chain of pouches, each responsible for sending burst of energy, creates redundancy. So, when one pouch fails the tens or hundreds of other units can continue delivering energy until the failed unit can be replaced.

What went wrong:

Locally Attuned and Responsive
Some versions of this concept are being designed for medical products where the source of potential energy is derived from the environment (or patient). I haven't figured out where this power chain would get its version of the eel's electrolytes without having to continue to add some sort of chemical mixture or fuel.
Integrates Cyclic Processes
I haven't considered how to reuse or recycle spent electro-cells. My impression is that they would break down fast and need regular replacement, which demands a secondhand use for the broken components.
Benign Manufacturing
Again, I have no vision for component pieces beyond the first iteration, which would most likely be manufactured with inorganic materials. The goal is to create something that leaves no trace elements, but major advances would be required to produce something that performs better than our oil based alternatives (plastics, etc.).
Optimizing Rather than Maximizing
This device currently serves two purpose - storing and delivering energy. It would be incredible to figure out a way to produce energy from other waste components on a car, but I haven't gotten that far on the idea. More to consider...
Leveraging Interdependence
If you consider a roaring engine life, then, yes, it creates life. However, the concept appears to be a fixed system that at the very best breaks down with lessor damage to the environment. It doesn't self organize, nor does it currently create conditions conducive to life. Although I'm guessing it would produce heat and energy, which are both very conducive to life, so maybe I'm aiming too low?
Resilient
Again, this feels like a fixed system - no co-evolution, mutation or adaptation. It could speak to the other parts of the engine, but I can't conceive how it would change as a result of function.

It's a fun idea. It's also a challenge to think in so many dimensions. For the history or design we've been able to hit on one, two or maybe three elements of holistic design. That stopped working. As designers, we're now responsible to consider ALL aspects of innovation - cradle to cradle.

If you're not learning, you're not paying attention (part II)

I returned to the beach today; while I would have preferred to be in shorts and flip-flops, I wore a knit hat and a puffy vest. Did I miss something? Have I been in a coma for the last six months, completely missing summer? I know the ice is gone, but c'mon! This "spring" needs to sprung.

Thankfully the forest is more resilient than me. It's been wearing flip-flops and shorts, in the form of buds and flowers, for the last week. Frost or not, nature is going for it. I respect that.

This week I'm studying "life's principles" - a set of common characteristics intricately wrapped up in the biological practices of every living creature. As I walked through my observatory, I looked for signs of these principles like a child would playing a game of hide and seek. Only, as I begin to play, I realized that this version was ten times easier than any game I ever played.

My first find I already alluded to. The ice melted, the leaves are budding and birds have returned to the forest surrounding Hidden Beach. Life integrates cyclic processes. Buried in this forest is an infinite amount of feedback loops that respond to one another informing the bugs, trees, water, plants, etc. to prepare for spring. The cycle looks something like this:


The complexity of my drawing is about as accurate as the models we use to predict inflation. If we could imitate the system of feedback loops that nature uses to launch spring we could turn our monetary policy into something so accurate that it would likely become unnecessary.

I nearly tripped over the second "principle of life."


This is a picture of a decaying stump. Nature leverages interdependence - a piece of one living thing is important to another. In this case the forest is recycling a fallen tree. What was once dropping leaves on the ground, is now a hotel for bugs and worms. Eventually it will be completely absorbed into the ground leaving its nutrients to future saplings.

Can you image if we used 100% of the resources we encounter on a daily basis? What if we used 100% of just one resource, like water? Imagine a house where cooking water is filtered and reused for bathing water, which is then turned into toilet water and finally used to as water to heat the house. Some of these processes already exist, but none have reached the threshold of efficiency produced by nature.

I noticed another decaying stump right next to a piece of concrete.


This one was particularly frustrating. How have we taken biological materials (like sand, cement and water) and turned it into something that doesn't decay? Nature uses life friendly materials that quickly deconstruct and redistribute into the environment.

Styrofoam is one of my least favorite things (I hate the sound and the feel, plus it takes about 5000 years to decompose). Every time you, or I, get a coffee in the wrong cup we leave a legacy of trash that will be around thousands of years after we die. What if we created all common products with natural materials that decompose in a few years, rather than a few thousand years? That's the type of legacy that I want to leave.

Nature is resourceful; biological species rarely serve a single purpose. Instead they serve many purposes that benefit other species in the area. A cotton wood tree is a good example of multifunctional design:


In the fall the tree drops its leaves, which creates food and shelter for bugs and worms living on the ground. The bugs and worms produce food that enriches the soil around the tree. The trees roots become stronger and are able to better protect the soil from erosion.

How many companies exist to serve a single purpose? What if our auto manufactures shared their research in safety to inspire other products? Or, what if they leveraged their skills in aerodynamics to create better bikes? I challenge mass producers to squeeze more value from their research and resources and be more like the tree.

Life is locally attuned and responsive. It's opportunistic - taking advantage of any room to get ahead. Take a look at this grainy picture:


I found this budding plant at waste level. I noticed very few buds looking up. In a month the tops of the trees (a hundred feet up) will be covered with leaves. At that point, this plant will have much less sunlight than it is currently enjoying. It's getting ahead.

What if we could stop a pandemic before it started? It would be incredible if early indicators could trigger the growth of antibodies long before the disease ever had time to proliferate. This is possible if we can learn to leverage biology's opportunistic nature.

My final observation brings me back to Part I of "If you're not learning, you're not paying attention." Hidden Beach is overrun with cotton wood trees (scroll down for more pictures). This redundancy can be found throughout the phylum of biological species. Nature likes to make copies of things that work, so if one goes down others carry on the processes assigned to that species.

We're starting to get this, but the work is not done. When Japan was struck by a 9.0 magnitude earthquake five power sources went down, each designed to back up the others in the case of a large earthquake. What engineers failed to plan for was the surge of water that inevitably whipped out the final power source responsible for cooling the radioactive materials.

Focusing on one of "life's principles" can save a city, focusing on all of the principles can save the world.

The noodle scratcher

I was forced to wear a bike helmet when I was a kid. Our house was on a fairly busy road and my mom was (and still is) a total safety nut; it was a bad combination. What she didn't know is that I tossed the helmet into the woods whenever I got beyond the view of our driveway.

I've always been somewhat of a design snob; so, it was inconceivable to allow myself to be seen is such a goofy looking item...


You remember the type? Forget the fact that it was made out of Styrofoam (a TERRIBLE product); it was tacky. The helmet never fit, and it made me look like I had a giant bobber on my head. Middle school was hard enough as it was, I kid didn't need to add any fuel to that fire.

Thankfully helmet design has come a long way since the early 90's. Today, kids get to cruise around in, dare I say it?, cool looking helmets.


Form has come a long way. Designer bike helmets come in every color and pattern imaginable; some are even designed to fit around baseball caps. Although designers have created shapes that reduce drag, reduce heat and increase protection, an uneven amount of innovation has been focused on form, ignoring function.

The purpose of a helmet is to protect the brain from serious damage during impact. We see them everywhere - on the road, on the slopes, in the water or in the air. It's a necessary device, given that even the slightest jarring can cause serious damage to neural tissues, even with the incredibly dense protective layer of bone that surrounds the brain.

Although direct impact can be devastating, some researchers point to rotational impact as the silent killer in many injuries.

You know those slow motion shots in boxing movies where one fighter gets punched in the face by another, sending his head (and usually a bunch of sweat and spit) in the opposite direction? That's rotational impact. Because the skull and brain are separated by a liquid membrane, shock to the skull is reduced to the brain by the frictionless coddling of the membrane fluid. The elasticity has it's limits, and when the limits are stretched too far the fibers that connect the brain and nervous system disconnect (which is often undetected, and sometimes fatal).

It's a serious problem with a potential solution.

Until recently, most functional innovation has been focused on the materials used to create the shell of the helmet, we've basically been trying to create a better skull to place over our heads. That changed when Dr Ken Philips of Philips Helmets Ltd created The SuperSkin®, which is a layer on the outside of the helmet that acts exactly like the scalp does in the human head.

Although I can't prove it, I'm guessing the discovery happened something like this... Dr. Philips was sitting around in his design studio trying to figure out how to make a better bike helmet. As he scratched his head he was struck with inspiration - his skin slid across his skull. "Genius," he exclaimed!

He then went to work trying to convince his design team by explaining that the body has already created a way to protect the brain. He showed them that a layer of skin exists on the outside of the head that shifts (within limits) around the skeletal structure.

Immediately they went to work ripping off the genius of nature.


The Lazer SuperSkin® helmet reduces rotational impact using a flexible membrane that shifts around the structure of the helmet. The result is "a near 60% decrease in impact during the critical milliseconds following a blow, significantly reducing the head trauma and reducing the risk of traumatic brain injury" (AskNature.org).

My fashion sense never led to brain damage, thankfully. And with the rise in form, now followed by function, it's much more likely to see me with a helmet on my head rather than in the bushes.

If you're not learning, you're not paying attention

Every time I visit Hidden Beach I'm struck by the same thing. Can you see it?


Brown, yes, but that is not it.

As you walk the path from the small Kenwood neighborhood the actual beach you pass by dozens of gigantic cottonwood trees many of which are close to 100 feet tall. Whenever there is any wind, I'm convinced that one of the two ton branches from any given tree is about to fall on my head. I'm a worrier, I know.

More than the height and girth of these trees, the bark is what continually surprises me the most about these ancient saplings. It's a very different kind of bark than you will find on the other trees in the area. It's chunky. It's rough. If you were able to pull a piece off, which is nearly impossible, you'd be holding what feels like a 2 x 4. I tried to stretch my hand from one groove to another and I barely covered half of it; it's really quite impressive.



Although the details get lost in the quality of the images produced by my iPhone, the width of this bark is between 4 to 6 inches, which does not include the depth to the crevice, which is another 2 inches on each side. That's some major bark.

As I said before, this landscape is dominated by these cottonwood trees; so with my Bioneer hat on, I begin to think about what makes this bark particularly beneficial to these trees within this localized habitat. To answer this question, I set out on the single-track bike path to find other examples of bark in the area.

Number 1:


The first thing you'll notice about this specimen is that it is much smaller than the other cottonwoods in the area. I will add that it's also much less prevalent (which I believe may have something to do with its bark). Each node on this tree is no bigger than half an inch wide, the gaps are also much more spacious, which I would hypothesize exposes the actual tree to more potentially harmful guests.

Number 2:


I have no idea what kind of tree this is. I'd guess an oak; the bark makes me think that it is not a smaller cottonwood. On this tree the bark pieces are fairly close together (there is little room between each piece) but, unlike the cottonwood, the bark pieces are small and relatively thin - not much thicker than half an inch. Again, I noticed a much smaller number of these trees than I did for the more dominant cottonwood.

Number 3:


This tree is out of place. Most trees in this area have some sort of rugged bark (of varying depths and widths), but this tree appears to have very little. This bark is not more than a quarter inch thick, and it wraps around the tree like a thick piece of paper.

Given the dominance of the cottonwood in this area, I assume that there is a beneficial function to the size of the bark on tree. I'm guessing that as close as this location is to water, the bark has something to do with protecting the cottonwoods from foreign invaders - the bugs! In Minnesota we know very well that the closer you get to water the more likely you are to encounter bugs.

With this hypothesis in the back of my mind I start to look around at some of the fallen trees that are no longer living. In many cases they are smaller, and ridden with holes created by woodpeckers. The cottonwoods have also lost branches from rotting, but they seem to cope much better than some of the other species that now cover the ground.

As I scanned the bark of a mighty cottonwood I noticed a bug that I've never seen before.


You can barely see it in this picture, but if you have ever seen the movie Men in Black, it looked like the bad guy bug that Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones killed at the end of the movie. It was weird looking.

The crevice that this bug was crawling through looked like a tough place for any bird or predator to enter, but why would a tree provide such an incredible shelter for such an insect? This bug would have never lasted hiding in the bark on tree number 3. My hypothesis was busted.

Perhaps this bug, and others like it, provide a service for the tree in exchange for the shelter. What service? I have no idea... and AskNature.org is down right now. So, we will have to take another look at that in another post.

Looking around the base of the tree I see piles of old bark degrading into the soil. Looking up I see partial limbs of former branches that are now bare and are in the process of being consumed by new bark.

Maybe the bugs pay rent by pruning the limbs of the cottonwoods that are not efficiently producing? OR, maybe the bark is so thick that the bugs are invited to eat and live there instead of the core of the tree, and then when the bark is rotten it falls to the base of the tree providing future nutrients?

I want to understand the function of this bark, so that I can apply the learning to other products and processes. Maybe this bark can be studied to produce better body armor? Or, maybe the bug-tree relationship can shed light on how we protect immigrant populations from predatory lending practices.

No answers here, today. Just a stream of questions to consider from one Bioneer to another. Either way, how cool is it that 30 minutes walking around in nature with a critical eye can raise such interesting questions and observations?

I want to ride my bi(o)cyle

According to the authors of Exploring the Way Life Works, there are sixteen known patterns that nature uses to create and sustain life. They are:

1) Life builds from the bottom up
2) Life assembles itself into chains
3) Life needs an inside and an outside
4) Life uses a few themes to generate many variations
5) Life organizes with information
6) Life encourages variety by recombining information
7) Life creates with mistakes
8) Life occurs in water
9) Life runs on sugar
10) Life work in cycles
11) Life recycles everything it uses
12) Life maintains itself by turnover
13) Life tends to optimize rather than maximize
14) Life is opportunistic
15) Life competes within a cooperative framework
16) Life is interconnected and interdependent

The purpose of a Bioneer (one who looks to nature for inspiration) is to improve upon existing products and services by mimicking the natural patterns explained above. As an apprentice to this profession my task this week is to take a common design (something I have a general familiarity with) and analyze how the subject either meets or does not meet the proven patterns that commonly exist in our environment.

I really like my bike. I've spent the last two weeks replacing old parts and tuning up the components to get ready for the season. Check her out:


... gosh she's pretty.

On a spectrum of sustainable lifestyles the bike is generally accepted as a quality means of transportation. It doesn't produce CO2 and it uses less raw material to manufacture than most other mainstream forms of transportation. But how does this device match up to other more biological forms of movement? How does it either imitate or ignore the common patterns that exist all around us?

One pattern of biology that exists on my bike is the chain. From the book:

Chains are made of simple units connected together in long, flexible strands.

Sounds a lot like a bike chain, right?


My bike chain is a loop of interconnected units which captures energy produced by my legs and transfers that energy to the rotation of my wheels. Without the chain the bike wouldn't move. In biological terms, this chain is considered a working chain (it carries out the business of function).

In biology there is another form of chain that is much more complex - the information chain. In the human body, information chains and working chains work together to create and sustain life. From the book:

Information chains provide the genetic prescription or recipe that is translated into working chains; these in turn make it possible to copy the information chains so they may be passed on to the next generation.

My bike chain doesn't carry any information... it's inflexible and is designed to perform the most basic function of a chain - to pass on energy.

But what if it could respond to information? What if the chain "knew" when to switch gears (or adapt) without me adjusting the shifters on my handlebars? Biological chains are flexible and transmit information. In biological chains the individual units vary in shape and function. Perhaps there is a way to apply these attributes (flexibility and adaption) to a bike chain to increase its performance.

Trek may be on the right path with it's auto-shifting Lime bike;


...but this design depends on additional component parts, including mini sensors, that violate other patterns consistent in nature (namely pattern number 11 - Life recycles everything it uses).

Patterns found in nature are already being incorporate into bikes. Beyond using chains, bikes leverage these other patterns:

4) Life uses a few themes to generate many variations
10) Life work in cycles
13) Life tends to optimize rather than maximize

In the future, I would expect major innovation in the industry to come from leveraging other patterns that are not currently being incorporated in the design of most bikes. Namely:

11) Life recycles everything it uses
12) Life maintains itself by turnover

Organized chaos

I find it ironic that many artists fear math. The truth is that regardless of the medium (music, painting, architecture, etc.) their craft either knowingly or unknowingly revolves around numbers.

Have you ever heard of the Fibonacci Sequence? 1+1+2+3+5+8...etc. It's a mathematical pattern where the combination of the two previous numbers equals the next number in the sequence. For example, take 2 and 3, add them together and you have 5. It's a strange pattern that can be found all around us. We use it in computer software and it exists in the arrangement of the keys on a piano. It's is used in architecture, dating back as far as the Great Pyramids.

And it may be one of our oldest forms of Biomimicry...

In our lecture this week, we learned about how this mathematical pattern exists abundantly in nature. To explore the veracity of these claims, I set out on a simple 30 minute walk to find my own examples of the Fibonacci pattern within biology. I found more than I had expected.

Leaves are like snowflakes, no two are alike. There is however a pattern that exists from species to species that explains why many leaves are similar in shape - it's called branching and it is a wonderful example of the Fibonacci pattern in action. Here's a picture of an Oak leaf that I drew during my walk:


The interesting thing about the Fibonacci Sequence is that after the 12th number any number divided by the number before it equals approximately 1.608. The base of the leaf to the first branch (in my picture) was 16mm. The base of the leaf to the second branch was 28mm. 28/16 is 1.75. That's pretty close to 1.608, and keep in mind that this was a rough sketch of the real thing!

After digging under some leaves I encountered an old snail shell. Snail shells are another incredible example of the pattern in action. Here's a picture of the sketch that I created next to a graphic representation of the Fibonacci Sequence:


Isn't that incredible? As chaotic as nature seems, patterns exist. Some of these patterns are obvious, and others we have yet to discover.

One pattern I know very well is the seasons. As I walked through my habitat (Hidden Beach) I encountered a downed tree. The last time I was near that tree I was playing in the snow with my girlfriend. Now, the snow is gone and the ice on the lake is melting. I noticed new growth, where the ground was not covered in dead leaves:


Spring has returned, and so too have the birds to share their patterned songs with me. The robin with its dee-dooo, dee-dooo and another unknown bird with its boo-keer-tee, boo-keer-tee. The more I paid attention the more I realized that recognizing patterns is key to understanding nature.

Some believe that sequences and numbers are ugly, but I disagree. Patterns are beautiful, so much so that I see it fitting the frequency at which nature is used as the subject in a piece of art.