Hello! You’ve stumbled on my rough and ready page of videos I’ve been collating, as I’ve been exploring the Uncanny Valley hypothesis -- a hotly debated theory about our very human fear of almost human objects. Do feel free to comment!
What is the uncanny valley?
When we encounter a ventriloquist’s dummy, a human automaton or highly-realistic computer graphic of a person (see below), many of us feel slightly disturbed, afraid or revolted. It’s a curious reaction as on the whole, inanimate objects seem more cuddly and loveable when they seem more human -- we hug ragdolls more than fluffy cushions, for example. Surprisingly, we feel empathy towards objects that look and move like us -- but we feel uneasy around mimics that are too good.
In 1970, cognitive scientist Masahiro Mori noticed this phenomenon and plotted human likeness and familiarity on a graph. He said familiarity plummets when objects become too human-like -- we become very fussy about deviations from the human form when the mimicry is very good. This drop in familiarity could explain why we find such human mimics so eerie. Mori also noted that an extremely good mimic would be indistinguishable from a real human. We’ve never built robots or dummies that are this convincing but there are some fictional examples, for instance the Replicants in Blade Runner.
Thus, Mori’s graph shows a significant dip in familiarity when objects are almost human but not perfectly human-like. He called this dip ‘The Uncanny Valley’. Mori’s graph has two lines. The solid line considers our reaction to static objects, the dotted one concerns objects that are moving. According to Mori, moving objects are all the more uncanny. And zombies (moving corpses) would be the most disturbing objects of all.
Mori's uncanny valley hypothesis
Mori’s Uncanny Valley graph, drawn in 1970, seemed to be describing a recognisable, subjective experience although -- surprisingly to many people who talk about uncanniness -- his original graph wasn’t backed up by any experimental data. In recent years, various scientists, most notably roboticist David Hanson, have tried to put Mori’s hypothesis to the test, although none have done so conclusively. The existence of an unbridgeable uncanny valley remains an open question.
Video examples of potentially uncanny artefacts
Hanson Robotics
Hanson works with a material called Flubber to create robotic faces that can present a large range of finely-varying human expressions. His videos are particularly interesting because Hanson refutes the existence of an unbridgeable Uncanny Valley. Hmm…
Computer game and film animation
Heavy Rain
Polar Express
This animated film uses motion capture but fails to capture the motion of the original actor’s eyes:
Old school: knee pals, dolls, automata etc:
These examples are interesting because they feel uncanny, even though their physical realism is low.
A beautiful, eerie automaton from Gustave Vichy, c1880, restored by automatomania.com. I want one (and have been obsessing over its mechanism):
The Little Girl Giant from Royal de Luxe:
“I’m going to put you back in your box”:
…and Arthur Worsley at work:
My efforts
Clara 2.0 and Uncanny Valerie
I became very interested in uncanniness when I noticed how disturbed people were by my robot doll Clara 2.0, especially when I shut her into her box at the end of the night. In this video, Clara’s the doll holding the card, Valerie is the doll with the long sparkly dress. I think Valerie is too sweet to earn the title ‘uncanny’ -- but I’m working on that…
…Clara 2.0 playing Get Carter:
Spacedog has teamed up with psychologist and magician Richard Wiseman to find the ‘world’s spookiest music’
Vote for the spookiest music
Book tickets for Electroplasm
See a preview video
Why is some music spookier than others? Which tracks give you a shiver down the spine? Is it the music, the lyrics or the association with a creepy film or place that gives it that edge?
We’d love you to tell us so we’ve set up a mini survey to find the ‘world’s spookiest music’ (well, at least Brighton’s spookiest). Jenny and I promise to perform the most chilling number in Electroplasm – a brand new show that mixes music with a live reconstruction of a Victorian séance.
We’re up for any music that gets under your skin – whether it’s an old Bowie number or a nursery rhyme with lyrics that gave you the creeps as a kid. If it gives you that delightful shiver down the spine, we want it in our show. Across the evening, we’ll be perform with vocals, theremin, saw and some unsettling home-spun automata (including Uncanny Valerie, a moving, ‘all-seeing’ 1950s doll). And once we’ve chilled you to the bone with our eerie music, the theatre will fall into complete darkness as Richard Wiseman invites you to participate in the evening’s séance.
Author of popular science book Quirkology, Richard has been researching the psychology and social history of the Victorian séance for many years. He’s advised world-class performers on séances, including Brighton resident Nick Cave (for his recent promo video Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!!). Ooooh….
**** Survey participants can also enter our draw for two pairs of free tickets to the show ****
Book tickets for Electroplasm
See a preview video
Named in honour of the original theremin virtuoso Clara Rockmore, Clara 2.0 is a robot doll who can play the theremin live. I call her the ‘polite robot thereminist’ as she listens to a line from another player and moves her dolly arm to bring her own theremin in perfect tune. Well, that’s the theory…
In this jamming session, Clara 2.0 is copying a line from an old Roland SH-2 synth (which I play silently), then the line from my own theremin. When the two theremins play together, things seem quite chaotic as Clara tries to follow me while I try to lock into Clara’s line.
I created Clara 2.0 as a more theatrical alternative to the loop pedal. Clara can harmonise in thirds or other intervals, as well as play in unison. She does put in the occasional appearance at live gigs although she can be temperamental, unless there’s plenty of set-up time. I’m currently experimenting with ways to make her work more reliably out-of-the-box, so I can take her on the road more often.
Duetting with robot thereminist Clara 2.0
The uncanny valley
Paul Attmere and Clara 2.0
Although I haven’t offered her up for academic scrutiny, I do feel Clara 2.0 supports Mori’s ‘uncanny valley’ hypothesis (1970). I appreciate the uncanny valley is a contentious theory that needs further research. However, when I present Clara 2.0 in live performances, I find she is sufficiently human-like to unsettle the audience, in line with Mori’s theory. The exposed mechanical and electronic parts, on her convincingly baby-like frame, seem to augment viewers’ feelings of unease. People are particularly uneasy when they see Clara 2.0 in purposeful motion (as Mori’s theory predicts). Clara 2.0 has helped me to explore these issues of uncanniness and to experiment with an audience’s empathy towards inanimate objects.
No mouse -- no midi
As a theremin-player, I have an affinity for fluid tuning and a natural antipathy towards midi, the musical interfacing protocol that describes pitch using discretely varying numbers. I’m also disinclined to watch live musical performances that use only a laptop, keyboard and mouse. Compared to a theremin, the keyboard and mouse create an impoverished interface, one that can’t offer the fine gestural, expressive control that is so valuable to a live performer. Clara 2.0 offers me a more theatrical, expressive alternative to the mouse -- especially when I ask her to play back copies of my own theremin playing.
Whisker
You’ll notice that Clara 2.0 has a whisker of metal on the end of her whisk. This tends to vibrate when she’s playing, giving her sound a pleasing Rockmoresque vibrato.
Thanks!
Thanks to everyone at Dorkbot London and the Hands off Festival, 2007, for their encouragement and useful tips after viewing some early outings of Clara 2.0. In particular, I’d like to thank theremin maker Jake Rothman for his extremely useful electrical advice (Clara’s insides are now lined with silver foil) and Gordon Charlton, whose virtuosic egg whisk numbers inspired Clara’s current look. Thanks also to Emmet Spier for screwing her arms on better and taking the photos on this page, Mike Blow for suggesting I try out this classic tune and Colin Uttley for playing the bass riff. With apologies to the great Roy Budd, composer of the jaw-droppingly gorgeous Get Carter theme.
This mini, automatic puppet show was created on a shoestring for the South Bank Centre, summer 2007. The brief was to come up with something novel inside a garden shed that would celebrate the area and appeal to families. It features dancing puppets and a carillon (robotic bell player).
The puppet show, Swinging London, features London luminaries, past and present, dressed in go-go style. I wanted the puppets to look like a dance group on TV, in the early days of colour television. Reflecting the throw-away nature of celebrity culture, the faces are velcroed on so they can easily be swapped for new ones, according to public demand. Some of the faces are personal favourites (e.g. Kenneth Williams) and a few were chosen by the public (e.g. Lady Penelope and Charlie Drake). Jarvis Cocker also makes an appearance -- he was curating the Meltdown Festival that was taking place at the time.
Swinging London was one of seven sheds that made up this outdoor exhibition, curated by Clare Patey. The shed was put together over just a few weeks on a tight budget. I was grateful to Vivien Angliss, Helen Burtt, Jenny Cotterill, Amanda Hellberg, Emmet Spier and Colin Uttley for their invaluable help in getting it together. Thanks also to Paul and Rachel Attmere for dressing up like the puppets and animating the sheds throughout the opening weekend. The puppets were adapted from 1960s Pelham puppets, scooped up from eBay.
Ragged puppets
I was inspired to make Swinging London after seeing the very dilapidated 1960s puppet show playing on Teignmouth Pier, Devon. I was really struck by how mesmerising the Teignmouth puppets were -- and how convincingly they moved to the music -- even though they were doing nothing more than jiggling up and down. The puppets also had a slightly unsettling look, because of their worn-out clothes and expressionless faces -- this also appealed to me. So this dolly waggling (bad puppetry) is inspired by the 1960s end-of-the-pier classic. The video footage was taken at the end of a busy eight-week run and you can see that the strings have gone saggy and paint has rubbed off the puppets’ shoes, onto the stage, helping them to look suitably ragged.
Slide show images by Emmet Spier
Carillon
The carillon played two and a half octaves of handbells polyphonically, striking them with servo-driven, sprung beaters.
This was my first attempt at building a polyphonic bell playing machine. In 2009, I attempted to build a version of the instrument that put each bell in a separate box, so the instrument could be distributed widely around a space. This Mk II carillon was given its first outing at the Sonic Arts Expo 2009. When this proved too troublesome to take out on the road, I built the Mk III, which clusters all the bells on a single metal frame. The frame , an old shop fitting, is on wheels and is compact enough to fit in the boot of a large car.
See the Mk III carillon in action.
