As long as I can remember, I’ve been fascinated by technology.
Growing up, I would always tinker with computers, cameras, game consoles, audio equipment, and whatever else I could get my hands on. I can’t remember exactly what I was thinking when I took these things apart, but I guess I just wanted to know what made them work.
After all, it is kind of magic.
You press a few buttons and suddenly you can take a picture, listen to music, design a flyer, or do whatever else you want to do. It all just gets easier.
This ability to abstract complexity away from the end user and make things more accessible has enabled me to do so many things I could only dream about doing without technology.
As the years marched on, however, I began to feel that this incredible aspect of technology has also enabled a lot of exploitation of people who may not be as tech-savvy as those creating these tools in the first place.
What used to be:
I know how this works. Let me explain it to you, break it down into steps, and package those steps in a form that makes them easy to apply.
has increasingly turned into:
I know how this works. Let me not explain anything about the process and instead give you a black box that accepts one very specific kind of input and always produces a similarly inflexible output.
Interoperability between systems, user modifications, truly owning the products you buy, and making them last as long as possible have gradually given way to an endless cycle of replacement and enshittification.
At least, that’s how it feels to me.
Growing up also taught me that I won’t be able to change the world.
What I can do is make my own contribution and provide for people who appreciate the same kind of simplicity that I do.
And by simplicity, I don’t mean dumbing things down.
I mean doing fewer things in general—and doing them well.
This principle of reduction is what led me to start Interlogika.
It’s a venture into simplicity whose goal is to make the technology products we used to love accessible again.
To make them communicate and function within modern standards—without taking away any functionality. Maybe even improving them.
While this is undoubtedly an opinionated endeavor, I hope to find people who appreciate the same mixture of modernity and nostalgia that I do.
Because for me, technology has long since moved past that sweet spot.
My constant challenge is to make “old” things work within today’s systems: keeping them as accessible as possible, benefiting from the genuine progress that has happened since their creation, while rejecting the much larger pile of unnecessary complexity that arrived alongside it.
Technology doesn’t become obsolete because it’s old.
It becomes obsolete when we stop caring enough to keep it useful.