In 2007, John Seely Brown—until August 2002 the chief scientist at Xerox for almost twenty years and until 2000 director of the legendary Xerox Palo Alto Research Center (Xerox PARC)—introduced the concept of Thinkering in speeches and articles. In a slide in his "Learning 2.0: the Big Picture" presentation, the move from thinking to thinkering is made to coincide with "interacting with a web of knowledge, tools, and distributed communities of practice." It is, of course, brought to life by the act of tinkering productively, experimenting, testing, retesting and adjusting, and all the while enjoying it with many like-minded spirits and engaging with the world in an open, constructive collaboration with colleagues and other specialists. In other words, in open-source mode.
Thinkering is the warm embrace that allows us to connect throughout history momentous examples of singular creativity achieved by means of collective refinements. Unlike contemporary hacking culture, it does not always lead to romantically rough and niche outcomes. Quite the opposite, when it is left to mature for a long time, it can lead to some of the most lyrical and universal amongst human assets. Like pasta, for instance. Cooking is reported in the crowdsourced op-ed in this issue of Domus as being one of the most ancient forms of open-source working models, and the various types of pasta, made perfect by material culture and generations of cooks over centuries, are among the open-source movement's most unlikely and yet most effective testimonies. So fitting, indeed, is the paradigm that it has resisted all individual, stylistic, and arbitrary intervention, as demonstrated by the several unfortunate attempts made by renowned designers/ famous egos like Philippe Starck, Giorgetto Giugiaro and Luigi Colani. They all failed and miserably. Pasta and open-source are the antithesis of griffe. What you make with them, on the other hand, is all up to you and to your personal talent, so long as you give back to the community that helped you get where you are—lest you get exiled to styleland.
The open-source phenomenon, which has its roots in the world of computer software, has now embraced the whole spectrum of human production, from music to movies, scientific papers, robots, cars and the building and occupation of real and virtual worlds at all scales, from architecture and the design objects to visualization and nanodesign. Historically, as a strategy to improve source software by making it legible and available to members of user groups, open source harks back to the 1950s and to IBM's SHARE group. The term "open source" was coined by Christine Peterson of the Foresight Institute, at a meeting with Eric Raymond, Larry Augustin and a few others in Silicon Valley in 1998 and canonised a few weeks later at the O'Reilly Freeware Summit, where people proposed names, voted and agreed to abide by the results.
The open-source phenomenon has its roots in the world of computer software, but now embraces the whole spectrum of human production.
At MoMA, we began collecting 3D-printed objects in 2003, right at the time when they could begin being called products, and not just models, and in 2006 we organised a collection exhibition entitled Digitally Mastered. On that occasion, I outlined my multipronged RM dream, which listed a whole menu of positive consequences should mankind decide to invest in RM.
In some circles, the word "hacker" still elicits unease and fear of the unknown. Yet, like reverse Gremlins, they have gone from hacking Furbies to producing open-source software and hardware to enable a paralysed graffiti artist—and in the future, hundreds of others in similar conditions—to express himself and even laser-tag buildings using only his eyes. The celebrated EyeWriter Initiative, by Zach Lieberman, James Powderly, Evan Roth, Chris Sugrue, TEMPT1, and Theo Watson, is an example of how far hacking has come. Without sacrificing their guerrilla tattoos, hackers' ideas of a better future for mankind seem more aligned with those of the majority, even those of a militant pioneer like Natalie Jeremijenko, whose Feral Robotic Dogs, to name just one of her many projects, stand as a paradigm for all hackers.
Paola Antonelli, architect and critic
 Design and the elastic mind, MoMA—Thames & Hudson, New York—London 2008, (p. 185).