Tweenbots and Empathy

Tweenbot in Washington Square Park

Wildness, handcraft, humility and empathy. Is that what you think of when you think about robots? Kacie Kinzer, who attended ITP while I was a resident researcher there, created Tweenbots, little human-dependent cardboard robots that move at a constant speed in a single direction. Each has a flag with a destination, requesting help to get there. Kacie put them on the street in New York and no, they weren’t stolen or damaged or reported as threats. Instead total strangers would come to their rescue, pointing them in the right direction and away from any dangers. She writes:

I called them tween bots because they would not only be navigating the space, going between one place and another, but they would be not robots necessarily—they would be between humans and robots. They would be between real and imagination.

These charming robots are as simple as can be. They’re made from cardboard, with big eyes and an adorable smile drawn on the robot’s head. When turned on, they slowly roll forward. There aren’t any sensors, there’s no remote control and no, there’s no AI self-driving. The robot is utterly dependent upon the kindness of strangers. And the strangers stepped up.

Every time the robot got caught under a bench, or was trapped in a hole, some person would rescue him and send him on his way. Throughout numerous missions, the Tweenbots were always successful in reaching their destination, and they had many interesting encounters with people along the way. Groups of strangers would form around the Tweenbots wherever they went, collaborating to help out. People even ignored instructions to aim the Tweenbots in the right direction, if that meant sending them towards dangerous situations. One man turned it back in the direction from which he had just come, saying out loud to him, “You can’t go that way, it’s toward the road.”

Tweenbots are electronic. They use batteries and a motor to move. Yet they evoke wabi-sabi in a variety of interesting and unexpected ways. Kacie never mentioned wabi-sabi to me, nor do I imagine she was considering it when she created the Tweenbots. Nevertheless, these robots bring many of the qualities that conjure wabi-sabi feelings and celebrate the human spirit.

Effects

When a member of the public comes across a Tweenbot on the street they are surprised. And of course they are, these small creatures are adorable and explicitly in need of help. This leads to caretaking. Not every person will stop and help, but enough do so that the robot eventually arrives at its destination, having taken an unpredicted and imperfect route. Those who interact with it appear delighted by this simple, playful experience. Perhaps it broadens their concept of robots, but more importantly the robots evoke empathy as they bumble their way through the world. As Kacie says “I’m actually not that interested in robots, I’m more interested in people.” She set out to change the way people experience the city.

Will you help me?

Elements

Most robotics projects don’t give off any kind of wabi-sabi feel at all. Instead they are sterile, industrial, shiny and efficient. In fact, when a person seems lacking in humanity we refer to them as a robot—and that’s not a complement. Tweenbots are different.

Kinzer’s charming robots wobble slowly forward until somebody helps them. Their flag requests assistance, evoking humility. They are mostly cardboard, an organic material that can be repurposed from a shipping box, and are unadorned save for three markings that suggest a face. Cardboard is naturally imperfect, and easily shows the scars of everyday use. The Tweenbot’s navigation is similarly imperfect, it serenely ambles off in whatever direction it’s sent. It’s a handcrafted device that lives outdoors, unconstrained in the wild. There’s no pretense here, just slow, calm motion that creates a journey assisted by others over time. The caretaking aspect recalls the heart of the Japanese tea ceremony, where a small group gathers and sets aside pretense and hierarchy for a few hours, replacing it with respect and generosity.

The Tweenbots are fundamentally an experiment in empathy. And while empathy isn’t canonical for wabi-sabi, the two concepts share many features. Empathy is the ability to deeply understand and feel another’s experience. It’s an emotional bridge that accepts others as they are. Wabi-sabi finds beauty in what is weathered, scarred, or incomplete. Empathy honors those same qualities in people. When you empathize with someone’s pain, vulnerability, or struggle, you are recognizing the imperfect beauty of being human—just as wabi-sabi sees beauty in a cracked bowl or faded fabric. Where wabi-sabi might look at a broken cup and say, “this is still beautiful,” empathy might look at a person in distress and say, “You are still worthy.” To me, that fits perfectly.

Opportunities

Since the Tweenbot project is chock full of wabi-sabi elements, it’s not really necessary to add more. But for the sake of argument, here’s a few options to take it even further.

1. Asymmetry and curves are hallmarks of wabi-sabi design, and Tweenbots are well on their way with curved faces and bodies. Allowing some lopsided structures could move it even closer to a natural form. But would it still be a robot? And if not, would that change people’s willingness to help it? Real world testing recommended.

2. Wabi-sabi objects tend to show their age, with wear and imperfections accepted as part of the philosophy, showing the influence of Zen Buddhism. And it should not take long for a cardboard robot set loose in a city to start wearing these signs of age. Will it become more attractive to potential helpers by displaying these?

3. Not all those who wander are lost. The Zen and Taoist underpinnings of wabi-sabi suggest going with the flow. This is something a Tweenbot already does, since it relies on people to get where it’s going. What if the robot has no destination? Will peopole still participate? And again, real world testing recommended.

4. Death and renewal are fundamental to life and wabi-sabi embraces that. So what becomes of the robot when it “dies”? Is there a process for return or rememberance? What would it take to convince a stranger to renew an expired Tweenbot?

Building your own

Kacie proposed a Tweenbot Kit on Kickstarter back in 2011, but unfortunately the funding fell short so it was never realized. However it still should be pretty easy to build your own, even without a kit. For example this tracked platform with a battery pack could provide all the mechanics needed. Cardboard, scissors and tape or white glue should work well to build a robot frame, a great project for children. Creating your own design will give plenty of opportunities to evoke wabi-sabi in your own way. If you make your own Tweenbot, let us know in the comments.

Tweenbots have joined the MoMA permanent design collection. All photos by Kacie Kinzer except PopTech by Kris Krüg.