Light brain surgery
30 Days with my Light Phone II ✨✨
“What is that?”
“Tell me about that little grey box.”
“Is that a toy phone?”
On December 23rd 2024, I did something dramatic. I jammed a paper clip into the tiny tray of the right side of my iPhone SE MHG93LLA. I extracted its brain (i.e. SIM) and transplanted it into the right side of a Light Phone 2. What happened since has been nothing short of wonderful.
In place of what had become a fifth limb, a third eye, and an omnipresent, luminous invitation to distraction has appeared a humble, matte grey utility box with softly lit, charcoal letters that serves only the essential and in fact, a little less. My partner, who is a skeptical software engineer, told me I was making a big mistake. He predicted I would find myself in stressful predicaments, like missing important meetings and messages, not being able to check into places, and getting really lost (in fact, all of this has happened, but I kind of enjoyed it).
I did not heed his warnings. My heart was set on switching to what I anticipated as a pure portal to a simpler, steadier brain, like the one I had in the early 2000s when I read heaps of books, relied on my sense of direction to drive to different states, and could seamlessly recall the names of films, writers, artists, people, restaurants, cities. In the weeks leading up to the surgery, I had done a lot of things to demote my smart phone. I read this book by Catherine Price on tips and tricks to stop checking my phone and this ethnography by Natasha Dow Schüll called Addiction by Design. I installed Blank Spaces to downgrade my iPhone into a dumb phone. I put a rubber band around my iPhone to create a speed bump for my thumb. But none of this was satisfactory. I no longer wanted to tote a pocket-sized TV with me everywhere I went. I quit!
A Light Phone, for those unfamiliar, is a phone with a screen, but no apps (e.g. no email, no camera, no Slack, no Safari, no wallet, no Instagram, no weather, no where-did-I-park-my-car and no notifications other than from a person trying to reach you). An e-ink touchscreen and gentle haptics guide your thumbs to call and text. If a Kindle and a flip phone had a baby, this dear, sweet child would be a Light Phone. You cannot use your Light Phone to get anything done, play a game, look something up, take a screenshot, or buy anything. You CAN use your Light Phone to get limited directions, listen to preloaded MP3s, set timers, and talk to people. It has been about 30 days since I performed what feels like DIY brain surgery, both on my iPhone and myself. I love my little grey phone. And it loves me back. It expresses its esteem by not being needy, insistent, or omnipresent. It has its life and I now have mine.
When people see my Light Phone, they wonder if it’s a toy. And then I start talking like I am introducing folks to a new superfood or alternative to Botox — a panacea for our modern ails. I let them hold my phone and try typing a message. I show them the little craft paper notebook I use to write down directions, addresses, names and other things I need to remember. I tell them about how I can walk, drive and commute anywhere without relying on my phone: I simply plan and then remember. I know fewer things in real time, and I’m okay with that. For example, I don’t know how many minutes before I will arrive. I don’t know if it’s going to rain. I don’t know when I’m fertile. I don’t know how many reward points I have at my local coffee shop. I don’t know if any of the washing machines are free. I don’t know if someone is mad at me and sent me a Slack message because it is Monday morning and I did not respond to their email on a Sunday night. I can find out all those things out later, or not at all.
I keep my iPhone around to use at home or work, but I relate to it as what it really is: a small computer. I still need it to do a few things: order a car, send people money, and check WhatsApp to read messages from my friends in other countries. But that’s pretty much it!
Lastly, here are a few skills and practices that I have regained:
- Spell! There is no autocorrect.
- People watch on the subway and while waiting on a queue.
- Write back to people, rather than give a thumbs up, heart or !!
- And most importantly, I only do one thing at a time (e.g. I cannot talk on the phone while looking at other parts of the phone).
My friend Adam Greenfield writes in his book, Radical Technologies: The Design of Everyday Life, about how efficiency is not the point of life and how smart technologies seem to miss that point. Of course we want to get things done. But we also long to wander, dance, get lost, meet people, change our minds, eat delicious food, and observe beauty along the way from point A to point B. I am happy trading uncertainty for over-information, imperfection for autocorrect, tiny failures for efficiency, patience for immediacy. My Light Phone has helped restore my brain as my operating system, my eyes as my camera, and my heart as my ❤️s.
p.s. I love this short video about a Massachusetts boarding school that asked all the students and faculty switch to Light Phones. You see teens enjoying painting, hanging out, getting bored, and going for walks, and hear them reflect on how they feel more empowered and engaged as “adults” in their world. (I cried.)
p.p.s. The Light Phone was created by Joe Hollier and Kaiwei Tang. Hugh Francis from Sanctuary Computer who worked on the design of the operating system and hardware for the Light Phone II will be visiting MFA Interaction Design at the end of March! I can’t wait for my students to meet him!
