Reading “Physical Computing’s Greatest Hits (and Misses)” was strangely comforting and inspiring at the same time. It helped me realize that a lot of the ideas I thought were already “done” or cliché—like using sensors to make interactive gloves or LED-based projects—are actually important milestones in learning and creativity. I used to feel discouraged when I saw someone else had already made something similar to what I had in mind, but this piece reframed that completely. It emphasized how each version of a repeated idea can still be fresh and meaningful when approached from a personal or unique angle. I found myself especially drawn to the “Fields of Grass” and “Things You Yell At” themes—they really match how I want people to feel something tactile or emotional when they interact with my work. This gave me permission to play, iterate, and remix existing concepts without feeling like I have to reinvent the wheel just to be valid.
That sense of permission and openness carried over into “Making Interactive Art: Set the Stage, Then Shut Up and Listen,” which really shifted how I think about authorship and control in interactive work. I’ve always felt the need to guide viewers to the “correct” meaning, but Tigoe’s argument for stepping back and letting the audience complete the piece through their own actions hit me hard. It reminded me that the most memorable interactions I’ve had with art happened when I could explore it freely, without being told what to think. The comparison to directing actors—offering intentions instead of rigid instructions—really reframed how I might approach building experiences. I’m beginning to see interactive art less like a fixed statement and more like a space for dialogue, where the audience brings the work to life and creates meaning in real time.