My trouble with smart homes begins with something as simple as turning on a light. Instead of flicking or pressing a switch, I have to wave frantically at a tiny photoelectric cell that rarely acknowledges me because, somehow, it fails to detect me. That alone should tell you I'm not a good candidate for the alleged home of the future. I've been locked out of my iPad for 10 years, routinely forget my passwords, and still use an @aol.com email address.
I want a dumb house.
Designer Thomas Yang, for one, is with me. "There is an honesty and an agency that comes with a light switch ... a tactile action and interaction with the world of materials that is not dependent on a server," he tells me. Personally, I also feel virtuous getting up from the couch to adjust the dimmer.
Harry got us a smart scale. That might seem innocuous enough. A practical problem is that if your Wi-Fi happens to be down, you can't find out how much you weigh that morning. Or you can't open your front door. I miss keys. I like landlines that don't heat up. But that's just the tip of the digital iceberg.
Shelly Palmer, a futurist who consults for Microsoft and other companies, spends his days explaining AI trends to corporate leadership. His newsletter says there's a quality gap between demo AI robotics and products actually ready to ship, but the goal is what LG calls the "Zero Labor Home." Several companies are racing to develop humanoid robots for the home. As far as I can tell, though, there is not yet a model that can load and unload the dishwasher. I'm just too old for a Jetsons-style world.
You must have seen that viral video of a robot waiter having a meltdown in a restaurant, or a reel of a robot face-planting during its much-hyped debut. When we see humanoids falter, fail, or freak out, we all laugh - because it's funny, but also because we feel superior, for now. I'm not sure we'll keep laughing once our friends have robots who iron the laundry without complaint.
But at the moment, it seems like more of a headache than a blessing to deal with nascent technology breaking or getting hacked. As someone who often fears change (I never got a CD player and clung to my mixtapes till the bitter end), I know the future is coming, but I sure won't be an early adopter.
Designer Rafe Churchill of the firm Hendricks Churchill agrees wholeheartedly. Over the past 30 years, he has outfitted several houses with so-called smart systems, but today he has regrets. "Ultimately they create little more than frustrated clients and even more frustrated second owners who realize the equipment is becoming obsolete," he says. "I firmly believe there is nothing comforting about illuminated touch screens."
For me, it's the concept of a smart kitchen that's really the stuff of nightmares.
Within the next year, Samsung will begin embedding AI directly into its refrigerators, microwaves, and ranges. Do I want my fridge cameras scanning my groceries and ordering more? One oven brand now recognizes my dishes, automatically applies what it deems the optimal settings, and monitors bread so it can notify me when it's browned. But, like, I have eyes. Do I need a fridge to tell me if my milk is spoiling? I have a nose.
Aesthetically, I also don't want a command station in my kitchen. The room is supposed to be a charming gathering nook, not a control room outfitted with complex launchpads.
Even some showers are now supposedly "smart," operated by an app, a control, or your voice. Designer Alexa Hampton describes one bathroom contraption gone hilariously awry: "I was recently in a house where I could not figure out a complicated shower. I had to ask a fellow houseguest to help me. We ended up sprayed and steamed - while dressed. I was not pleased."
While AI is seemingly invading every corner of our lives, designers, paradoxically, are increasingly being asked to strip away the complexities of buggy, overautomated systems, opting for manual control (hello, faucets!) as the ultimate luxury. High-end, custom-designed smart systems are often over-engineered, not to mention possibly not great for security. I'll take an old-school deadbolt over a computer guarding me any day. I want to turn a lock and feel a click. I want my house to look like a cozy place to gather, not a recording studio. Automation is not my lover.