Tag Archives: Gia Yetikyel

Fashion, sustainability, and the protein threads that bind textiles and cosmetics

I’m starting with a somewhat enthusiastic overview of the role synthetic biology is playing in the world of clothing and cosmetics in The Scientist and following it up with some stories about fish leather, no synthetic biology involved but all of these stories are about sustainability and fashion and, in one case, cosmetics.

Fashionable synthetic biology

Meenakshi Prabhune’s June 14, 2024 article in The Scientist, in addition to the overview, provides information that explains how some of the work on textiles and leather is being used in the production of cosmetics. She starts with a little history/mythology and then launches into the synthetic biology efforts to produce silk and leather suitable for consumer use, Note: Links have been removed,

Once upon a time, circa 2700 BC in China, empress Xi Ling Shi was enjoying her afternoon tea under a mulberry tree, when a silkworm cocoon fell from the tree into her tea. She noticed that on contact with the hot beverage, the cocoon unraveled into a long silky thread. This happy accident inspired her to acquire these threads in abundance and fashion them into an elegant fabric. 

So goes the legend, according to the writings of Confucius, about the discovery of silk and the development of sericulture in ancient China. Although archaeological evidence from Chinese ruins dates the presence of silk to 8500 years ago, hinting that the royal discovery story was spun just like the silk fabric, one part of the legend rings true.1 The Chinese royals played a pivotal role in popularizing silk as a symbol of status and wealth. By 130 BC, emperors in the Ancient Civilizations across the world desired to be clad in silken garments, paving the Silk Road that opened trade routes from China to the West. 

While silk maintained its high-society status over the next thousands of years, the demand for easy-to-use materials grew among mass consumers. In the early 20th century, textile developers applied their new-found technological prowess to make synthetic materials: petrochemical-based polymer blended textiles with improved durability, strength, and convenience. 

In their quest to make silk powerful again, not by status but rather by thread strength, scientists turned to an arachnoid. Dragline silk, the thread by which the spider hangs itself from the web, is one of the strongest fibers; its tensile strength—a measure of how much a polymer deforms when strained—is almost thrice that of silkworm silk.2 

Beyond durable fashion garments, tough silk fibers are coveted in parachutes, military protective gear, and automobile safety belts, among other applications, so scientists are keen to pull on these threads. While traditional silk production relies on sericulture, arachnophobes can relax: spider farms are not a thing.

“Spiders make very little silk and are quite territorial. So, the only way to do it is to make microbes that make the protein,” said David Breslauer, cofounder and chief technology officer at Bolt Threads, a bio apparel company. 

For decades, researchers have coaxed microbes into churning their metabolites in large fermentation tanks, which they have harvested to solve dire crises in many areas. For instance, when pharmaceuticals struggled to meet the growing demand for insulin through the traditional methods of extraction from animal pancreas, researchers at Genentech sought the aid of E. coli to generate recombinant insulin for mass production in 1978.3  [emphases mine]

Prabhune’s June 14, 2024 article notes some difficulties with spider silk, Note: Links have been removed,

… researchers soon realized that producing spider silk in microbes was no easy feat. The spider silk protein, spidroin, is larger than 300 kDa in size—a huge jump from the small 6 kDa recombinant insulin. Bulky proteins impose a heavy metabolic load on the microbes and their production yield tanks. Also, spidroin consists of repeating regions of glycine and alanine amino acids that impart strength and elasticity to the material, but the host microbes struggle with protein folding and overexpression of the corresponding tRNA molecules.4  

… researchers had gotten close, but they hadn’t been able to synthesize the full spidroin protein. Since the molecular weight of the silk protein correlates with the strength of the silk thread, Zhang [Fuzhong Zhang, a synthetic biologist at Washington University in St. Louis] was determined to produce the entire protein to mimic the silk’s natural properties.5

To achieve this goal without pushing the metabolic limits of the bacteria, Zhang and his team literally broke down the problem. In 2018, they devised a recombinant spidroin by constructing two protein halves with split inteins—peptides known to catalyze ligation between proteins while splicing out their own residues—tagged at their ends. They synthesized the halves in separate E. coli cultures, mixed the two cultures, and ligated the proteins to yielded a recombinant spidroin of 556 kDa—a size that was previously considered unobtainable.6 The resulting silk fiber made from these recombinant spidroins matched the mechanical properties of natural spider silk fiber.

While synthesizing the high molecular weight protein validated their technical prowess and strategy, Zhang knew that the yield with this approach was going to be unavoidably low. “It was not even enough to make a simple shirt,” he said.

Zhang and his team did solve the problem of getting a higher yield but that led to another problem, from Prabhune’s June 14, 2024 article,

Breslauer echoed the importance of this step. He recalled how scaling up was the biggest challenge when he and his cofounder Dan Widmaier, chief executive officer at Bolt Threads, first set up shop in 2009. The duo met during their graduate studies. Breslauer, a material science student at the University of California, Berkeley, was fascinated by spider silk and sought help for synthesizing the protein in microbes. Luckily, he met Widmaier, a synthetic biology graduate student who was optimizing systems to study complex proteins.

When their collaboration to produce recombinant spider silk proteins in yeast yielded promising results, the duo decided to challenge the status quo in the textile industry by commercially producing bio-silk apparel, and Bolt Threads was born. The market transition, however, was not as smooth as the threads they produced. 

“There was so little innovation in the textile space, and brands were really eager to talk about innovation. It felt like there was demand there. Turns out, the desire for storytelling outweighed the desire for actual innovation with those brands,” Breslauer said. “We didn’t realize how adverse [sic] people were going to be to the idea because it was so unfamiliar.”

Prabhune’s June 14, 2024 article also covers leather and cosmetics, Note: Links have been removed,

David Williamson, a chemist and the chief operations officer at Modern Meadow and his team wanted to separate themselves from the herd. In their quest for sustainable alternatives, they went back to the basic biology and chemistry of the material. As leather is made from animal skin, it is rich in collagen, a structural protein abundant in the extracellular matrix of connective tissues. If the team could produce this primary component protein at scale, they would be able to process it into leather downstream. 

In about 2017, Williamson and his team developed a fermentation-based approach to produce collagen from yeast. While they achieved scalable production, there was one small hiccup. The protein properties of collagen alone did not yield the mechanical properties they needed for their leather-like material. 

The team went to the drawing board and analyzed the amino acid residues that contributed to collagen’s characteristics to look for a substitute protein. They found an alternative that had the desirable functional elements of collagen but was also sustainable and cost effective for industrial scale up: soy protein isolate. While tinkering with their recipes, they found the perfect combination for material strength by mixing in a bio-based polyurethane polymer with the protein to yield a refined bioalloy called Bio-VERA. 

As natural textiles are derived from animal skin, hair, or proteins, it is no surprise that many synthetic biologists in the textile space have also found a niche in cosmetics. Even as the Modern Meadow team transitioned away from their protein fermentation strategies to innovate Bio-VERA, they realized that they could still apply their expertise in skincare. While leathery is not an adjective one desires to associate with skin, collagen is an integral component in both. “When our bodies make collagen and build our extracellular matrices, one of the first proteins that they deposit is type three collagen. So, you can think of type three collagen almost like the structure or scaffold of a building,” explained Williamson.

To cater to the increasing demand for solutions to achieve younger looking skin, Williamson and his team engineered a recombinant collagen type three protein containing part of the protein sequence that is rich in binding domains for fibroblast interactions.9,10  “After you expose the extracellular matrix to this protein, it stimulates the fibroblasts to make more type three collagen. That type three collagen lays down type one collagen and elastin and fibronectin in a way that actually helps to turn back time, so to speak, to increase the ratio of type three collagen relative to type one collagen,” Williamson said. 

The Modern Meadow team are not the only ones to weave their textile strands into cosmetic applications. When Artur Cavaco-Paulo, a biological engineer at the University of Minho [Portugal], was studying wool fibers, he was struck by their structural similarities to human hair. “We decided that it would be a really good idea to transfer some of the knowledge that we had in wool textiles to human hair,” said Cavaco-Paulo. Particularly, he was interested in investigating solutions to fix hair strands damaged by highly alkaline chemical products. 

Over the next few years, Cavaco-Paulo developed […] shortlisted peptides into the K18 peptide product, which is now part of a commercially available leave-in conditioner. Cavaco-Paulo serves as the chief scientific officer at the biotech company K18. 

Although he started his career with textile research, Cavaco-Paulo favors the cosmetics sector with regards to returns on research and technology investment. “The personal care market is much more accustomed to innovation and has a much better and more fluid pipeline on innovation,” seconded Breslauer. “Whereas, [in] apparel, you really have to twist arms to get people to work with your material.” Bolt Threads ventured into the personal care space when Breslauer and his team serendipitously stumbled upon an alternative use for one of their textile proteins. 

While it’s not mentioned in Prabhune’s June 14, 2024 article, sustainability is mentioned on two of the company websites,

Bolt Threads

Bolt Threads is a material solutions company. With nature as our inspiration, we invent cutting-edge materials for the fashion and beauty industries to put us on a path toward a more sustainable future.

Through innovative collaborations with world-class brands and supply chain partners, we are on a mission to create way better materials for a way better world. Join us.

Modern Meadow

Modern Meadow is a climate-tech pioneer creating the future of materials through innovations in biology and material science.

​Our bio-materials technology platform with nature-inspired protein solutions delivers better performance, sustainability, scalability, and cost while reducing reliance on petrochemical and animal-based inputs.​

K18 has not adopted a ‘sustainability’ approach to marketing its hair care products.

Sustainability without synthetic biology: fish leather

In a January 3, 2022 posting I featured fish leather/skin in a story about the “Futures exhibition/festival” held at the Smithsonian Institute from November 20, 2021 to July 6, 2022.

Before getting to Futures, here’s a brief excerpt from a June 11, 2021 Smithsonian Magazine exhibition preview article by Gia Yetikyel about one of the contributors, Elisa Palomino-Perez (Note: A link has been removed),

Elisa Palomino-Perez sheepishly admits to believing she was a mermaid as a child. Growing up in Cuenca, Spain in the 1970s and ‘80s, she practiced synchronized swimming and was deeply fascinated with fish. Now, the designer’s love for shiny fish scales and majestic oceans has evolved into an empowering mission, to challenge today’s fashion industry to be more sustainable, by using fish skin as a material.

Luxury fashion is no stranger to the artist, who has worked with designers like Christian Dior, John Galliano and Moschino in her 30-year career. For five seasons in the early 2000s, Palomino-Perez had her own fashion brand, inspired by Asian culture and full of color and embroidery. It was while heading a studio for Galliano in 2002 that she first encountered fish leather: a material made when the skin of tuna, cod, carp, catfish, salmon, sturgeon, tilapia or pirarucu gets stretched, dried and tanned.

The history of using fish leather in fashion is a bit murky. The material does not preserve well in the archeological record, and it’s been often overlooked as a “poor person’s” material due to the abundance of fish as a resource. But Indigenous groups living on coasts and rivers from Alaska to Scandinavia to Asia have used fish leather for centuries. Icelandic fishing traditions can even be traced back to the ninth century. While assimilation policies, like banning native fishing rights, forced Indigenous groups to change their lifestyle, the use of fish skin is seeing a resurgence. Its rise in popularity in the world of sustainable fashion has led to an overdue reclamation of tradition for Indigenous peoples.

Brendan Jones provides an update of sorts in his Alaska-forward take in his February 22, 2024 article “Fish Leather Is Incredibly Strong and Beautiful. Can Makers ‘Scale Up’? Meet artisans in Alaska and BC who are sustaining, and advancing, an ancient art.” for The Tyee,

Fish leather artist June Pardue began her journey into the craft not knowing where to start. Which was a problem, considering that she had been given the job of demonstrating for tourists how to tan fish skin at the Alaska Native Heritage Center in Anchorage. “I couldn’t find anyone to teach me,” Pardue said with a laugh.

“One day a guy from Mississippi noticed me fumbling around. He kindly waited until everyone had left. Then he said, ‘Do you want me to share my grandpappy’s recipe for tanning snake skins?’”

His cocktail of alcohol and glycerin allowed her to soften the skins — as tourists looked on — for future use in clothing and bags. This worked fine until she began to grow uncomfortable dumping toxins down the drain. Now she uses plant-based tannins like those found in willow branches after the season’s first snowmelt. She harvests the branches gingerly, allowing the trees to survive for the next generation of fish tanners.

Pardue, who teaches at the University of Alaska, was born on Kodiak Island, off the southern coast of the state, in Old Harbor village. Alutiiq and Iñupiaq, she was raised in Akhiok, population about 50, and Old Harbor.

Following her bumpy start at the heritage center, Pardue has since gone on to become one of Alaska’s and Canada’s most celebrated instructors and practitioners in the field of fish leather, lighting the way for others in Alaska and Canada.

Among the people Pardue has advised is CEO and founder of 7 Leagues tannery Tasha Nathanson, who is based in Vancouver. She met with Pardue to share her idea of creating a business built on making fish leather into boots and other items for a large customer base.

Before making her move to open a business, Nathanson spent a year running the numbers, she said. In 2022, the global fish leather market was valued at US$36.22 million. As fish tanneries open their doors and fashion houses take notice, the number is expected to grow 16 per cent annually, topping $100 million by 2030.

“Salmon certainly don’t come to mind when you think of tanning, but people are catching on,” said Judith Lehmann, a Sitka-based expert in fish leather, who took Pardue’s class. (The Tyee reached Lehmann in Panama, where she was experimenting with skins of bonito and mahi mahi.)

Growing numbers of buyers are willing to pay for not only the beauty but also the remarkable durability fish leather can offer. California-based eco-fashion designer Hailey Harmon’s company Aitch Aitch sells the Amelia, a teal backpack made of panelled salmon leather, for $795.

One company in France has started to collect fish skins from restaurants — material that would otherwise end up in trash cans — to make luxury watch bands and accessories. Designers like Prada, Louis Vuitton and Christian Dior have incorporated fish leather into their lines. Even Nike introduced running shoes made of perch skin.

Whether they know it or not, today’s trendsetters are rooted in ancient history. “People have been working with fish skins for thousands of years,” Pardue said. “Ireland, Iceland, Norway, China, Japan — it’s an age-old practice.”

“On a molecular level, fibres in fish leather are cross-hatched, as opposed to cow leather, which is just parallel,” Nathanson explained. “So, pound for pound, this leather is stronger, which is great for shoes. And it’s more available, and eco-conscious. It’s a win across the board.”

Jones’s February 22, 2024 article has some wonderful embedded pictures and Beth Timmins’s May 1, 2019 article for the BBC (British Broadcasting Corporation), while a little dated, offers more information about the international scene.

Synthetic biology is a scientific practice that I find disconcerting at times. That said, I’m glad to see more work on sustainable products however they are derived. On that note I have a couple of recent stories:

  • “Three century long development of a scientific idea: body armor made from silk” is the title of my July 11, 2024 posting
  • “Grown from bacteria: plastic-free vegan leather that dyes itself” is the title of my June 26, 2024 posting

Enjoy!

Futures exhibition/festival with fish skin fashion and more at the Smithsonian (Washington, DC), Nov. 20, 2021 to July 6, 2022

Fish leather

Before getting to Futures, here’s a brief excerpt from a June 11, 2021 Smithsonian Magazine exhibition preview article by Gia Yetikyel about one of the contributors, Elisa Palomino-Perez (Note: A link has been removed),

Elisa Palomino-Perez sheepishly admits to believing she was a mermaid as a child. Growing up in Cuenca, Spain in the 1970s and ‘80s, she practiced synchronized swimming and was deeply fascinated with fish. Now, the designer’s love for shiny fish scales and majestic oceans has evolved into an empowering mission, to challenge today’s fashion industry to be more sustainable, by using fish skin as a material.

Luxury fashion is no stranger to the artist, who has worked with designers like Christian Dior, John Galliano and Moschino in her 30-year career. For five seasons in the early 2000s, Palomino-Perez had her own fashion brand, inspired by Asian culture and full of color and embroidery. It was while heading a studio for Galliano in 2002 that she first encountered fish leather: a material made when the skin of tuna, cod, carp, catfish, salmon, sturgeon, tilapia or pirarucu gets stretched, dried and tanned.

The history of using fish leather in fashion is a bit murky. The material does not preserve well in the archeological record, and it’s been often overlooked as a “poor person’s” material due to the abundance of fish as a resource. But Indigenous groups living on coasts and rivers from Alaska to Scandinavia to Asia have used fish leather for centuries. Icelandic fishing traditions can even be traced back to the ninth century. While assimilation policies, like banning native fishing rights, forced Indigenous groups to change their lifestyle, the use of fish skin is seeing a resurgence. Its rise in popularity in the world of sustainable fashion has led to an overdue reclamation of tradition for Indigenous peoples.

In 2017, Palomino-Perez embarked on a PhD in Indigenous Arctic fish skin heritage at London College of Fashion, which is a part of the University of the Arts in London (UAL), where she received her Masters of Arts in 1992. She now teaches at Central Saint Martins at UAL, while researching different ways of crafting with fish skin and working with Indigenous communities to carry on the honored tradition.

Yetikyel’s article is fascinating (apparently Nike has used fish leather in one of its sports shoes) and I encourage you to read her June 11, 2021 article, which also covers the history of fish leather use amongst indigenous peoples of the world.

I did some digging and found a few more stories about fish leather. The earlier one is a Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) November 16, 2017 online news article by Jane Adey,

Designer Arndis Johannsdottir holds up a stunning purse, decorated with shiny strips of gold and silver leather at Kirsuberjatred, an art and design store in downtown Reykjavik, Iceland.

The purse is one of many in a colourful window display that’s drawing in buyers.

Johannsdottir says customers’ eyes often widen when they discover the metallic material is fish skin. 

Johannsdottir, a fish-skin designing pioneer, first came across the product 35 years ago.

She was working as a saddle smith when a woman came into her shop with samples of fish skin her husband had tanned after the war. Hundreds of pieces had been lying in a warehouse for 40 years.

“Nobody wanted it because plastic came on the market and everybody was fond of plastic,” she said.

“After 40 years, it was still very, very strong and the colours were beautiful and … I fell in love with it immediately.”

Johannsdottir bought all the skins the woman had to offer, gave up saddle making and concentrated on fashionable fish skin.

Adey’s November 16, 2017 article goes on to mention another Icelandic fish leather business looking to make fish leather a fashion staple.

Chloe Williams’s April 28, 2020 article for Hakkai Magazine explores the process of making fish leather and the new interest in making it,

Tracy Williams slaps a plastic cutting board onto the dining room table in her home in North Vancouver, British Columbia. Her friend, Janey Chang, has already laid out the materials we will need: spoons, seashells, a stone, and snack-sized ziplock bags filled with semi-frozen fish. Williams says something in Squamish and then translates for me: “You are ready to make fish skin.”

Chang peels a folded salmon skin from one of the bags and flattens it on the table. “You can really have at her,” she says, demonstrating how to use the edge of the stone to rub away every fiber of flesh. The scales on the other side of the skin will have to go, too. On a sockeye skin, they come off easily if scraped from tail to head, she adds, “like rubbing a cat backwards.” The skin must be clean, otherwise it will rot or fail to absorb tannins that will help transform it into leather.

Williams and Chang are two of a scant but growing number of people who are rediscovering the craft of making fish skin leather, and they’ve agreed to teach me their methods. The two artists have spent the past five or six years learning about the craft and tying it back to their distinct cultural perspectives. Williams, a member of the Squamish Nation—her ancestral name is Sesemiya—is exploring the craft through her Indigenous heritage. Chang, an ancestral skills teacher at a Squamish Nation school, who has also begun teaching fish skin tanning in other BC communities, is linking the craft to her Chinese ancestry.

Before the rise of manufactured fabrics, Indigenous peoples from coastal and riverine regions around the world tanned or dried fish skins and sewed them into clothing. The material is strong and water-resistant, and it was essential to survival. In Japan, the Ainu crafted salmon skin into boots, which they strapped to their feet with rope. Along the Amur River in northeastern China and Siberia, Hezhen and Nivkh peoples turned the material into coats and thread. In northern Canada, the Inuit made clothing, and in Alaska, several peoples including the Alutiiq, Athabascan, and Yup’ik used fish skins to fashion boots, mittens, containers, and parkas. In the winter, Yup’ik men never left home without qasperrluk—loose-fitting, hooded fish skin parkas—which could double as shelter in an emergency. The men would prop up the hood with an ice pick and pin down the edges to make a tent-like structure.

On a Saturday morning, I visit Aurora Skala in Saanich on Vancouver Island, British Columbia, to learn about the step after scraping and tanning: softening. Skala, an anthropologist working in language revitalization, has taken an interest in making fish skin leather in her spare time. When I arrive at her house, a salmon skin that she has tanned in an acorn infusion—a cloudy, brown liquid now resting in a jar—is stretched out on the kitchen counter, ready to be worked.

Skala dips her fingers in a jar of sunflower oil and rubs it on her hands before massaging it into the skin. The skin smells only faintly of fish; the scent reminds me of salt and smoke, though the skin has been neither salted nor smoked. “Once you start this process, you can’t stop,” she says. If the skin isn’t worked consistently, it will stiffen as it dries.

Softening the leather with oil takes about four hours, Skala says. She stretches the skin between clenched hands, pulling it in every direction to loosen the fibers while working in small amounts of oil at a time. She’ll also work her skins across other surfaces for extra softening; later, she’ll take this piece outside and rub it back and forth along a metal cable attached to a telephone pole. Her pace is steady, unhurried, soothing. Back in the day, people likely made fish skin leather alongside other chores related to gathering and processing food or fibers, she says. The skin will be done when it’s soft and no longer absorbs oil.

Onto the exhibition.

Futures (November 20, 2021 to July 6, 2022 at the Smithsonian)

A February 24, 2021 Smithsonian Magazine article by Meilan Solly serves as an announcement for the Futures exhibition/festival (Note: Links have been removed),

When the Smithsonian’s Arts and Industries Building (AIB) opened to the public in 1881, observers were quick to dub the venue—then known as the National Museum—America’s “Palace of Wonders.” It was a fitting nickname: Over the next century, the site would go on to showcase such pioneering innovations as the incandescent light bulb, the steam locomotive, Charles Lindbergh’s Spirit of St. Louis and space-age rockets.

“Futures,” an ambitious, immersive experience set to open at AIB this November, will act as a “continuation of what the [space] has been meant to do” from its earliest days, says consulting curator Glenn Adamson. “It’s always been this launchpad for the Smithsonian itself,” he adds, paving the way for later museums as “a nexus between all of the different branches of the [Institution].” …

Part exhibition and part festival, “Futures”—timed to coincide with the Smithsonian’s 175th anniversary—takes its cue from the world’s fairs of the 19th and 20th centuries, which introduced attendees to the latest technological and scientific developments in awe-inspiring celebrations of human ingenuity. Sweeping in scale (the building-wide exploration spans a total of 32,000 square feet) and scope, the show is set to feature historic artifacts loaned from numerous Smithsonian museums and other institutions, large-scale installations, artworks, interactive displays and speculative designs. It will “invite all visitors to discover, debate and delight in the many possibilities for our shared future,” explains AIB director Rachel Goslins in a statement.

“Futures” is split into four thematic halls, each with its own unique approach to the coming centuries. “Futures Past” presents visions of the future imagined by prior generations, as told through objects including Alexander Graham Bell’s experimental telephone, an early android and a full-scale Buckminster Fuller geodesic dome. “In hindsight, sometimes [a prediction is] amazing,” says Adamson, who curated the history-centric section. “Sometimes it’s sort of funny. Sometimes it’s a little dismaying.”

Futures That Work” continues to explore the theme of technological advancement, but with a focus on problem-solving rather than the lessons of the past. Climate change is at the fore of this section, with highlighted solutions ranging from Capsula Mundi’s biodegradable burial urns to sustainable bricks made out of mushrooms and purely molecular artificial spices that cut down on food waste while preserving natural resources.

Futures That Inspire,” meanwhile, mimics AIB’s original role as a place of wonder and imagination. “If I were bringing a 7-year-old, this is probably where I would take them first,” says Adamson. “This is where you’re going to be encountering things that maybe look a bit more like science fiction”—for instance, flying cars, self-sustaining floating cities and Afrofuturist artworks.

The final exhibition hall, “Futures That Unite,” emphasizes human relationships, discussing how connections between people can produce a more equitable society. Among others, the list of featured projects includes (Im)possible Baby, a speculative design endeavor that imagines what same-sex couples’ children might look like if they shared both parents’ DNA, and Not The Only One (N’TOO), an A.I.-assisted oral history project. [all emphases mine]

I haven’t done justice to Solly’s February 24, 2021 article, which features embedded images and offers a more hopeful view of the future than is currently the fashion.

Futures asks: Would you like to plan the future?

Nate Berg’s November 22, 2021 article for Fast Company features an interactive urban planning game that’s part of the Futures exhibition/festival,

The Smithsonian Institution wants you to imagine the almost ideal city block of the future. Not the perfect block, not utopia, but the kind of urban place where you get most of what you want, and so does everybody else.

Call it urban design by compromise. With a new interactive multiplayer game, the museum is hoping to show that the urban spaces of the future can achieve mutual goals only by being flexible and open to the needs of other stakeholders.

The game is designed for three players, each in the role of either the city’s mayor, a real estate developer or an ecologist. The roles each have their own primary goals – the mayor wants a well-served populace, the developer wants to build successful projects, and the ecologist wants the urban environment to coexist with the natural environment. Each role takes turns adding to the block, either in discrete projects or by amending what another player has contributed. Options are varied, but include everything from traditional office buildings and parks to community centers and algae farms. The players each try to achieve their own goals on the block, while facing the reality that other players may push the design in unexpected directions. These tradeoffs and their impact on the block are explained by scores on four basic metrics: daylight, carbon footprint, urban density, and access to services. How each player builds onto the block can bring scores up or down.

To create the game, the Smithsonian teamed up with Autodesk, the maker of architectural design tools like AutoCAD, an industry standard. Autodesk developed a tool for AI-based generative design that offers up options for a city block’s design, using computing power to make suggestions on what could go where and how aiming to achieve one goal, like boosting residential density, might detract from or improve another set of goals, like creating open space. “Sometimes you’ll do something that you think is good but it doesn’t really help the overall score,” says Brian Pene, director of emerging technology at Autodesk. “So that’s really showing people to take these tradeoffs and try attributes other than what achieves their own goals.” The tool is meant to show not how AI can generate the perfect design, but how the differing needs of various stakeholders inevitably require some tradeoffs and compromises.

Futures online and in person

Here are links to Futures online and information about visiting in person,

For its 175th anniversary, the Smithsonian is looking forward.

What do you think of when you think of the future? FUTURES is the first building-wide exploration of the future on the National Mall. Designed by the award-winning Rockwell Group, FUTURES spans 32,000 square feet inside the Arts + Industries Building. Now on view until July 6, 2022, FUTURES is your guide to a vast array of interactives, artworks, technologies, and ideas that are glimpses into humanity’s next chapter. You are, after all, only the latest in a long line of future makers.

Smell a molecule. Clean your clothes in a wetland. Meditate with an AI robot. Travel through space and time. Watch water being harvested from air. Become an emoji. The FUTURES is yours to decide, debate, delight. We invite you to dream big, and imagine not just one future, but many possible futures on the horizon—playful, sustainable, inclusive. In moments of great change, we dare to be hopeful. How will you create the future you want to live in?

Happy New Year!