Mike's Notes
I was talking with Chuheng in an online meeting yesterday about the Pipi origin story.
I ended up explaining how I work things out visually, like an artist, not like an engineer.
Working for NZ Sculptor Neil Dawson was one of those formative experiences that taught me to work consciously like an artist. Daydreaming and intuition with deadlines, not plans. Just making it up on the day, letting go of the handrails.
I discovered, in the course of the Globe project described below, how to consciously create a rich model in my head, work from it, and keep doing so. I still have that model and can fly around in it whenever I want to. The same goes for the thousands of other models floating around in my brain since age 4.
So what has this got to do with Pipi? The truth is, I built up all the internal layers in Pipi one on top of another, like making an oil painting, a film, or a magnificent, tasty dish. A dash of this, a smidgen of that. It has become a Complex Adaptive System. I can see the whole, but the swirling parts connect, and I have no idea how to describe why it works, because its properties emerge from the interactions of the parts. There are hundreds of agents, each with multiple copies, and they self-assemble in different ways at different times. I can't even draw it as it adapts and grows. I suspect I just got lucky. Anyway, it works.
That might be why new, unexpected properties of Pipi keep getting discovered.
That is also why Pipi must generate its own documentation, because I can't anymore.
And that is why Pipi 9, working with a human, will generate Pipi 10 when it is ready and needs to.
Resources
- http://www.redworks.co.nz/2010/08/working-on-globe-for-magiciens-de-la.html
- https://wiki.ajabbi.com/eng/9/primative-engine.html
References
- Reference
Repository
- Home > Ajabbi Research > Library >
- Home > Handbook >
Last Updated
21/12/2025
Just magic - working on Globe for Magiciens de la Terre
Mike is the inventor and architect of Pipi and the founder of Ajabbi.
From late 1987, I had the wonderful opportunity to work for Neil Dawson, a Christchurch-based sculptor who exhibits around the world.
I was employed as a sculptor's assistant. I got to be his hands, and it was just fantastic. Every morning when I came in to start work, there would be a pile of A4-sized drawings he had done the night before—any of which could have become a work of art. Occasionally, I was given a drawing and told to go off and make it—or several identical copies. I then realised what "Michelangelo being a factory" meant.
Neil was a really nice chap to work for, very talented, and he taught me a lot by personal example.
From memory, work started on Globe about mid-1988. It was to be hung above the plaza outside the Centre Georges Pompidou in Paris as part of the exhibition Magiciens de la Terre.
First, a small Marquette was made out of beaten metal mesh and presented with location photos.
Bruce Edgar, Neil's technical wiz, found a way to make this impossible object possible through investigations and trials of materials. Richard Reddaway made a 60cm sphere for a working drawing.
I spent two weeks at the University of Canterbury Geography Department watching all of the satellite imagery available. I remember being mesmerised by time-lapse movies lasting months showing swirling patterns of clouds moving across the planet. There were also books with photos taken by astronauts. It was just stunning!
In an interview, I said, "We originally started off projecting photos onto the surface of the sphere and then accurately trying to trace them on. Every little dot and speck, and then going through and editing that. But it was too mechanical, so now it is being done in quite a sort of painterly way - I just try to put in the general sweeps and swirls and then put lots of resolution in. I noticed that all the scientists have got books and books and books on dissecting the weather, but they have no beautiful pictures of what it actually looked like. Its really very interpretive - a funny situation really - sort of like a ghost painter. I'm painting the world as I see it and Neil comes along and edits it. It's his choice."
The model was then photographed and projected onto a series of hexagon plates made of foam fiberglass composite, eventually bolted together to make a 4.5-meter hollow sphere suspended 25 meters above the Pompidou Plaza.
I traced photos and then cut them out with a router. I can still remember the fiberglass dust and the breathing gear.
I think six people were involved in making Globe. It was carefully assembled and hung from the rafters in Neil's studio. Neil spray-painted it—he did an amazing job—just perfect.
Then Neil and Bruce went to Paris to put it up.
The whole thing was a great experience. After the exhibition, it went to a gallery in New Plymouth and outside a gallery in Australia, where it was eventually destroyed in a storm.
Looking back, Neil showed incredible guts tackling this project. Everyone worked very hard, and technology was at its limit. It was an honour to be part of it.
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