Spark joy: Declutter your data


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You may have heard of Marie Kondo, the Japanese tidying guru who helps people clear out their houses in pursuit of mindful happiness. Unloved clothes, unread books, stuff you keep “just in case”, even sentimental things – once they are gone, so her advice goes, your neatly organised home will “spark joy”. You will liberated to lead a more focused and meaningful life.

Sure, this may just be common sense dressed up as spiritual insight. I recently tried it on my bookshelf. After discarding about half my collection, leaving only books that I really care about, the result was remarkable. Now every time I look at my bookshelf it fills me with satisfaction, and I find myself picking up books for reference much more often.

Whatever you make of Marie Kondo’s approach, even the most hardened soul will probably concede that something like a garage clear-out feels good: it gives you the space to move again. You can easily find and reach your tools. Result: You are free to focus on the job at hand – like fixing your bike.

Everything in its place

It’s what French chefs call mise en place: everything in its place. This is essential to get things done. Without it, you’ll waste valuable time looking for tools or ingredients. Chefs can’t faff about hunting for a 5ml measuring spoon when there are ten tables waiting for their order.

So why don’t we apply the same to our digital work lives?

A mad world

People everywhere are struggling with information clutter. If we lived and worked in the physical world the way we do things digitally, our homes and offices would be the size of planets.

We’d have personal warehouses full of books, papers and boxes, vaguely labelled like “Clients” or “Archive”. We’d have lines of trucks delivering paperwork to our front doors all day long. We’d have to send out a search party to find our favourite shirt in a wardrobe as big as London. Our toothbrush would be hiding in a different country every day. And our wedding photos would be stored somewhere on a remote island, amongst pictures of cute cats sent to us by complete strangers. The world would be totally bonkers.

The tyranny of cheap storage

And yet this is what we have come to accept digitally. We don’t even see it anymore, it’s just become a habit.

Why? Because digital storage costs nothing, and leaving data sitting around takes less time than moving or deleting it.

But the cost to your productivity and wellbeing can be very high indeed. If your information workflows were as well organised as the kitchen of a French chef, you’d have all your time available to cook up the things you’re supposed to deliver in your job. But instead you waste half your days trying to find what you need – which, when you find it, turns out to be unfit for purpose. Your meetings are a waste of time because most people in it couldn’t find what they needed either. So you schedule another meeting. For which you need more stuff you can’t find…

Don’t put it off

Whatever your job, chances are that you treat information management a bit like a visit to the dentist. You do it only when you have to, and put it off for as long as possible. And worse, when you do get round to doing it, you’ll probably do it badly: by yourself. But even dentists can’t fix their own teeth.

This is why the world needs digital Marie Kondos.

You do know where to find us, don’t you?


This post appeared first on my LinkedIn blog on 6 April 2017



Digital transformation: But can you touch it?



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Over the past year you may have noticed two divergent trends.

First, the old buzzword ‘digital transformation’ has made a comeback.

Second, people are rediscovering their love of physical things. Sales of Moleskine notebooks have more than doubled while e-book readers are in decline. Print magazines, vinyl albums, and other retro things are in revival.

Recently I talked to an industry veteran with over 30 years’ experience in managing oil exploration permits. At some point I asked her whether digitisation had made life better compared to the paper-based approach that was common at the start of her career. Thinking about it for a second, she looked me straight in the eye and said… “No, actually.”

Apparently, digitisation had just replaced one set of issues with another, and subsequent IT upgrades had mostly become a case of two steps forward followed by one step back. Or two.

If you’ve read this far, don’t worry, this is not a post-mortem on why some digital programmes fail or succeed. That’s well documented and depends on many things (like, solving the right problems for starters).

There’s something else going on.

Physicality and tactility

It feels like people are still looking for better ways of doing things, but aren’t getting enough joy out of digital workflows alone. In digital transformation the keyword isn’t digital, it’s transformation. It implies radical change. But can this only be achieved through digital means?

People aren’t robots. We prefer each other’s company to conference calls (as brilliantly highlighted by this comedy sketch). We like touching real things rather than digital screens, like the grain of wood or the textured pages of a beautiful magazine. And, as every child knows, we love to create things with our hands.

But after years of staring at digital screens we had forgotten that fact – hence the backlash and revival of all things vintage.

Focus and simplicity

New products like the Punkt phone or Freewrite typewriter show that people crave workflows that are simple and focused, without distractions. A non-smart phone that can only make calls and send texts; a digital typewriter that lets you do no more than write down words and save them to the cloud. And these devices are built to last.

This may explain why some paper-based information management practices have survived the digital transformation age. Every emergency response room I’ve seen is still equipped with paper maps, alongside real-time data feeds. Architects still draw in sketchbooks and build physical models to develop visions and ideas, despite 3D modelling software. Air traffic controllers still fall back on paper strips to direct planes, together with radar and GPS.

The best of both worlds

Digital tools enable us to automate and monitor things. They make information searchable and shareable, so it can be found, integrated and analysed.

Physical tools enable us to focus on the task at hand, and derive joy from working.

The key, then, must lie in hybrid workflows that combine the best of both worlds. This is also evident in the trend of single-purpose apps. Rather than deploy clunky portals that tried to do everything, platforms now allow us to appify workflows one use case at a time.

So next time we talk about digital transformation, let’s not forget that people still like real things.

This post first appeared on my LinkedIn blog.



Managing geodetic risks in E&P

Just for completeness, here’s another blog post I wrote at Exprodat last year (I forgot to repost it here) – a recap on geodetic integrity and some simple steps that oil and gas companies can take to protect themselves from mispositioning their data. It actually had a really good response from within the industry.

managing geodetic risks blog picture

Happy reading!

(Photo: private collection)




Re-evaluating your GIS

I recently wrote a new post over at Exprodat, discussing the conundrum of how to deal with unlimited technical options:

“In a world where everything is possible, you must first consider your true needs”.

Link here.

An edited version of this piece, customised for the marine sector, has also appeared in the quarterly magazine of The Hydrographic Society UKSoundings (paywall).

Challenging Perceptions: Journeys in the Global Oil Industry

Working in the global petroleum industry I’ve had the privilege of travelling to places I would never have visited otherwise. These journeys often provided remarkable encounters that challenged my preconceptions of different countries and cultures – and of the petroleum industry itself. The world is a complex place, but what we read in the news headlines is often oversimplified or misrepresented.

Here are some stories that made me think different about the world, appreciating its diversity and its multi-layered, nuanced nature – from gender equality in Islam to the redefinition of tropical paradise, from Norwegian liberalism to what it means to work in oil and gas.

world map

Locations featuring in the stories below.


Houston, Texas

Houston, the world’s oil capital, is a sprawling concrete jungle with endless freeways and shopping malls. People wear cowboy boots and eat man-size steaks. The dress code in oil companies consists of slacks, polo shirts and gym-sculpted bicepses. The 61st Mayor of Houston (2010 to 2015) was an openly gay woman with a green liberal agenda; she was re-elected twice, totalling three terms.

Feel free to read that last sentence again.


Mirror cube in the Museum of Fine Arts Sculpture Garden, another surprising find in Houston. (2013)



Tripoli and Sahara Desert, Libya

I visited Libya during Gaddafi’s regime in the late 2000s, after the lifting of economic sanctions. Tripoli had become a thriving boomtown with good infrastructure; clean and safe to walk around. Out in the desert, however, we were faced by a silent danger imported from European shores: German landmines left behind from World War II. In many areas we had to rely on bomb disposal experts to clear the way for seismic survey crews.

Today, Gaddafi’s dictatorship has gone, and the country has imploded into civil war. But in some areas those landmines, lurking beneath the sands, still pose a greater danger than anything that is happening above the surface.


German landmines from WWII, somewhere in the Libyan desert. (2007)



Seria, Brunei
Jakarta, Indonesia
Oman, Muscat
Riyadh, Saudi Arabia

The gender equality I’ve come across in Islamic countries is often more evenly balanced than anything I’ve seen in the West. This is particularly remarkable for technical disciplines such as geomatics and IT.

In Brunei, for example, almost 50% of the 30-strong geomatics department I once audited were female. These women occupied mostly junior positions, but western oil companies can only dream of such ratios. Some years later, one of these women was posted to her parent company in Europe, climbed up the ranks and returned to the Far East to become Head of Geomatics for the whole Asia-Pacific region.

It was a similar story with a major Jakarta-based operator: both the GIS and IT managers I dealt with were Muslim women. And in Oman, the Head of GIS at a ministry I worked for was a local women with nearly 20 years of technical experience. Next door, at the national oil company, one third of board directors (5 out of 15) were Omani women.

Once, when a client opportunity came up in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, we sent our people with the most relevant experience and expertise for this particular project. The fact that all three of them happened to be women did not raise any concerns, and the project was as successful as any other. It makes me proud to work with people who do the right thing regardless of any preconceptions other people might have.


The Sultan Qaboos Mosque at Muscat, Oman, is a marvel of modern Islamic architecture. (2014)



Perth, Australia

“Paradise is not some place you can look for… It’s how you feel for a moment.” – Alex Garland, The Beach.

I’ve been lucky enough to visit Perth a few times on business. When schedules allowed I naturally headed for the beach. But Perth is also a windy place and, by evening, the sea was often too choppy to swim or surf. When I did get a swim in, it wasn’t always that pleasant. One day I got stung by a jellyfish. On another, a teenage surfer had a close encounter with a small shark (luckily it ended with just a few scratches). I had lived in Sydney many years ago, but this was not how I remembered paradise.

One day, though, I returned to Perth to find a major sculpture exhibition taking place on the beach. It was a stunning scene, with over a hundred artworks made of glass, metal and stone. The sun was just beginning to set and the sculptures reflected the vanishing daylight like giant amplifiers, magnifying the sense of occasion. The balmy night air filled with the sound of crickets and cockatoos, carried by the smells of dune grass and Norfolk pines. The full moon came up and, searching for the Southern Cross, I noticed that the Orion constellation was upside down – a reminder of how far away from home I was.

It was by now too late to go for a swim, but that didn’t matter. The unexpected sight of an art exhibition had erased my preconceptions of what I should be doing on a white sandy beach. It was perfect.

Later that night I went back to my city-centre hotel and badly missed my wife and children at the other side of the world. The moment was gone.


Sculpture exhibition at sunset on Cottesloe beach, Perth. (2015)



Port Harcourt, Nigeria

One of the joys of travelling to far flung places is to experience cultural differences. Like things I never knew were a problem:


Health & Safety concerns in Port Harcourt, Nigeria. (2005)



Dubai, United Arab Emirates

Astana, Kazakhstan

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam

Progress means different things to different people. In high-growth economies it tends to spawn tall buildings and shopping malls. The resulting familiarity of finding an Apple shop sandwiched between Starbucks and Louis Vuitton can be mind-numbing, like a geographic version of Groundhog Day. Add to that the packed schedule of a business trip, and there is often no time left to sample true local culture.

In Dubai, where I stayed for one night and ended up feeling I’d seen everything there is to see, my cultural highlight was the purchase of two duty-free bottles of Bombay Sapphire. To my great annoyance I left them behind on my flight home, maybe as a subconscious act of rebellion.

In Astana the architecture was positively bonkers, but at least it was in keeping with the local sense of humour. Apart from almonds and horsemeat, however, there was little else to differentiate Kazakhstan’s capital from any other global metropolis – which was probably the intention.

In KL I was repeatedly told “there is lots to see”.  But no matter how far I wandered around the city centre, it was impossible to escape the grip of luxury consumerism. When I enquired about what else there might be to do, someone suggested Times Square. I checked it out the next day: it was, of course, another shopping mall. And the best food I had all week was Japanese.

Vietnam, finally, provided a glimpse of how economic progress may retain a local vibe. Ho Chi Minh City was a curious blend of colonial history, communist capitalism, and distinctly Vietnamese street culture. Yes, there were western shops, a French cathedral, and even an Opera House playing Bach and Handel, but all of these were counter-balanced by busy streets filled with locals going about their daily business. Reassuringly, the city somehow retained its own madness, including millions of scooter riders that flowed through the streets like water – no traffic lights required.


Progress (clockwise from left): Astana, Kuala Lumpur, Ho Chi Minh City. (2013-2015)



San Diego, California

America is not renowned for being pedestrian-friendly. But America is also the country where everything is possible. And so, America is – of course – home to the only major city I know where everything, including the international airport, is within walking distance. There is a car park on top of the hill where you can almost touch the wheels of landing planes.

San Diego is one of my favourite destinations in the petroleum industry. Not just for its fabulous climate, but for the inspiration it provides as the host city of an important event: Esri’s annual GIS User Conference. During this time over 15,000 delegates from every conceivable industry sector converge from around the world to share their passion about maps and geography. It is literally a breath of fresh air. And not just because you can walk everywhere.


View of San Diego airport from a residential street. Photo by Eric Harmatz (2007) on Flickr, licensed via Creative Commons.



Aberdeen, UK

I used to visit Aberdeen quite regularly. It never rained when I was there. I don’t dare go back now, in case I break the spell.


Heading into the Cairngorm mountains near Aberdeen, Scotland. (2009)



Cairo, Egypt

I remember the pyramids, and the grumpy camels. I remember the death-defying taxi ride to the airport, wondering whether it may be my last.

But I remember mostly Mohammed, our host. He wore trousers with braces and big, thick-framed glasses, and he had a wicked sense of humour.

Every time Cairo makes the news I can’t help but think of Mohammed.


Sunset over Cairo. Photo by Loic Lagarde (2009) on Flickr, licensed via Creative Commons.




At Changi Airport I once missed a connecting flight. The only option of getting to Perth on time was to buy a new ticket with another airline. But the cost I was being quoted was preposterous, and the flight options limited. I tried another desk, where a friendly ticketing officer tipped me off about a travel agent that was quietly tucked away in a remote corner of the underground lobby. Indeed, this agent had seats on flights that only 10 minutes earlier I was told were full – and for much cheaper. But there was a catch: cash only.

So here I was in Singapore, one of the most advanced and connected cities on earth, securing my seat on an intercontinental flight like a dodgy dealer – with a massive pile of dollar bills.

In times of emergency, cash is still the most powerful currency. (And luckily the ATM didn’t eat my card.)


Departing Changi Airport on an intercontinental flight paid for, 3 hours earlier, entirely in cash. (2015)



Above China

I’ve never been to China, except for Hong Kong airport and a brief hike in the nearby mountains of Lantau Island between connecting flights. Perched on top of a mountain ridge, looking down at the South China Sea, was not very different to being in an aeroplane – except for the fresh air, of course. And, walking past a giant Buddha statue, I learned that Chinese people love selfie sticks.

But that’s my entire experience of China in a nutshell. Even though I’ve crossed its length by air a number of times, I basically don’t know anything first-hand about the most populous nation on Earth.

It’s the same story with many other countries in the world. I’ve seen Mount Fuji in Japan, or Mount Elbrus in Russia – but only through a protective layer of plexiglass.

If you fly over a country at 30,000 feet, or touch down at one its airports, or even decamp to one of its nearby hotels, have you actually been there? As a frequent business traveller I’ve visited many places, but how many of these were more than just a simple shift in spacetime coordinates?


Top: Full moon and mountains, somewhere above China. Bottom: View atop Lantau Island, near Hong Kong airport – note the giant Buddha on the ridge. (2014-2015)



Stavanger, Norway

Norwegians, like all Scandinavians, are renowned for their open and egalitarian attitudes. But on successive trips to Stavanger I found the limits of their liberalism in a graffiti depicting Mona Lisa in a pose deviating from da Vinci’s original masterpiece:


Graffiti depicting Mona Lisa in Stavanger, Norway. (April vs October 2013)



The Hague, Netherlands

Holland is where I started my career in the oil industry. I was first posted to regional operations in a northern town, followed by an assignment at global head offices in The Hague. This dashed some of my preconceptions of the industry.

As anywhere in the Netherlands, most staff commuted by bike or tram. Not only did they slightly dent their employer’s oil revenues in doing so, but many of the geoscientists I worked with were active outdoor enthusiasts with a natural affinity for the environment. One senior geologist I worked with was a proud member of Greenpeace; he went on to lead oil exploration teams in Africa and Russia.

Everyone was made to attend countless Health, Safety, and Environment briefings. People obsessed about healthy, ergonomic work places. Holding the handrail on the stairs was mandatory at all times. Environmental standards were such that often no expense was spared to get permission to drill, whether by wrapping an entire rig in a sound-absorbing cocoon or rerouting a pipeline to avoid whale breeding grounds.

As a group of GIS analysts we mapped oil and gas assets, but we also mapped environmental sensitivities and animal migration paths. In one project I helped locate a massive wind farm off the Dutch coast; the success of this project largely depended on offshore expertise derived from decades of oil and gas experience.

The energy industry is huge and complex, but mostly it’s an industry that is changing dramatically. These experiences have marked new beginnings in every sense of the word. Long may it continue.


Wind turbines in the Dutch North Sea, installed using expertise and investment from the offshore petroleum industry. (2007)


Text and photographs by the author, unless indicated otherwise.
World map made with ArcGIS Online, where this post originally appeared as a story map.

True or false? Norway upside-down would reach Africa

Map projections can play funny tricks on people. Recently, over a couple of beers, a Norwegian friend told me that the size of his native land is best imagined as follows: if you rotated Norway around its southernmost tip, it would reach Africa.

Fair enough, it’s a big country!

But a few days later, the geodesist in me felt compelled to check if it is true. Keen on any excuse to play around with maps and projections, I fired up GIS.

We all know that most people look at the world through the lens of the Mercator projection. And indeed, if we rotate Norway on the plane of this projection, it does reach into Africa:


So is it true?

We also know that Mercator famously exaggerates areas towards the pole. So could this make a bloated North swing too far south?

Let’s choose a map projection more suited to the purpose of this particular exercise, e.g. the orthographic projection (a.k.a. “the world from space”) which mimics a globe view.

If we centre this projection on the southern tip of Norway (the point of rotation for this experiment), the distances radiating from this point should remain comparable in any direction (albeit not true in an absolute sense).

And here’s the result:


Alas, Norway does not reach Africa – it only stretches to the French Riviera.

To verify, you can measure it on Google Earth or, even simpler, just look at it on a desk globe.

In other words, it’s yet another myth perpetuated by the Mercator projection. It distorts people’s world views and undermines geographic understanding.

To illustrate the point further, here are the comparisons on the orthographic projection (left) and Mercator projection (right), where the red areas are the Mercator-based  rotations of Norway, and the black areas the original and orthographic versions. The scale of the deception is especially apparent with Norway’s arctic islands of Svalbard bloated beyond all proportions:



Credits: Data from Natural Earth and ArcGIS Online. Maps produced with ArcGIS Pro.

Test your geomatics knowledge with this artwork

The intersection of art and science is known to be a fertile ground for creativity and innovation. If at first you can’t see much overlap between art and geomatics, I challenge you to draw a Venn diagram and think again. Cartography, visualisation, geodesign, architecture… the list goes on.

And then there is land art.

Land artists use nature as canvas and exhibition space for their artworks. From huge spirals in the desert to sun tunnels, land art is a kind of outdoor sculpture that often requires accurate positioning and alignment within the landscape – in other words, geospatial expertise.

There is one particular piece of land art that would make a perfect set of exam questions for geomatics students.

The Lightning Field is located in a remote area of New Mexico, and consists of 400 stainless-steel poles erected in a precise grid pattern covering an area of 1 mile x 1 kilometre. Designed and installed by land artist Walter de Maria, it’s been dubbed one of the most significant works of art of the late 20th century. The idea is that the poles attract lightning during thunderstorms, thereby inducing Mother Nature to put on its own show. But also without lightning, The Lightning Field is designed to convey a deep sense of space and isolation for those few people lucky enough to ever wander around it. (Yes, it’s on my bucket list.)

The Lightning Field (photo by thefriendlyuser, Flickr Creative Commons)

The Lightning Field (photo by thefriendlyuser, Flickr Creative Commons)

But anyway, here’s the geomatics bit.

The poles are not just arranged in a precise grid of 220 feet (67.06 metres) squares, but also their tips are aligned in a horizontal plane such that they support a perfectly flat, imaginary sheet of glass:


In other words, despite the natural undulations of the desert plateau, the tip of every pole is at exactly the same elevation above mean sea level. In fact, the height of the poles varies between 5 and 8 metres.

So here’s some exam questions:

  1. What geomatics techniques would you use, and how, to ensure that all poles – and their tips – end up exactly in the right position, horizontally and vertically, within a tolerance of say, 5 cm?
  2. How would you work out the length of each pole required, knowing they all need to be buried 30 centimetres deep into the ground?
  3. What techniques would you have used in 1977 when the Lightning Field was installed? (i.e. no personal computers, no GPS, no drones, no cheap 3D modelling software, no laser or electronic distance measurement tools)
  4. Geospatially speaking, if you wanted to realise the Lightning Field in the most (unnecessarily) creative way that somehow involves all major branches of geomatics (GIS, remote sensing, photogrammetry, geodesy & surveying), how would you do it?

With today’s plethora of geospatial technology on offer, there are many ways of doing it. But mind you, not all of them would be accurate enough.

Feel free to post your answers below… or maybe you can think of further questions to ask!

P.S.  I doubt you can google the answers; I couldn’t find an online reference to how the Lightning Field was originally surveyed in the 1970s. If you find one do let me know!

This post first appeared on my LinkedIn blog.