A few years ago, my daughter and I were invited to perform. We had only one run-through, and it took place the afternoon of the performance. Ten graphics workstations, networked and projected, a complex audio system (a tap dancer, for example, whose taps were MIDI triggers that triggered prerecorded words, enabling the dancer to tap out various sentences). Lighting, cues, costumes, makeup. We didn't get to the final blocking, where the human cues and the technological accompaniments were supposed to synchronize, unti la half hour before curtain. We were, to say the least, apprehensive. Mark showed up. He had laryngitis. He was calm.
He whispered, calmly, hoarsely: "We don't have time to test this, so it will have to work on the first try. In fact, everything that happens is part of the show, so there's no way it won't work. Do what you can with what you've got, and it will happen."
It's hard to describe, but there was something in the quality of his voice that made it happen. We all knew it was impossible. It happened. It was a lesson for all of us.
Then there's the "Anon Salon," a regular gathering of digerati and demos in the apartment above the Icon Byte Bar and Grill. Or his "meltomedia" manifestos on the WELL's Muchomedia conference. Check it out for yourself.
Now he's our man in Multimedia Gulch. Tune in to the first episode:
Downtown Cybertown 1.0