Grey Matters

On a stunning autumn morning I parked the car and followed a procession of stylish people to Carriageworks in Redfern. We bypassed the pots of herbs and ignored the aroma of Columbian coffee and freshly baked bread. Chirpy volunteers with bright smiles stood by the door. They seemed immune to the early hour and the icy breeze that whipped around the growers market outside.

"Welcome to TEDx Sydney 2012," said anyone with a clipboard.


It was buzzing inside the concrete foyer. Media types with serious cameras hovered. I looked around. Where were all the ugly people? Well-groomed blokes with neatly cropped hair or if they were follicly-challenged, freshly shorn scalps; they all looked like architects. For a moment I thought I’d stumbled upon the wrong convention. Maybe TEDx was next door. The good looking blazer brigade wore slim cut pants and boots. Underneath crisply ironed cotton shirts were glimpses of Bonds whites. Some eschewed collars and looked edgier for it. Some even wore hats. Dark framed specs were de rigeur. In the exciting world of technology, entertainment and design, black is definitely the new black and managed hair is mandatory. The women wore stylish coats, boots and scarves: the usual winter uniform. They had cool hair too.

TEDx is picky. It selects its speakers and puts them through a rigorous rehearsal schedule. It also selects the people who are invited to pay $180 to attend. I was thrilled to be one of the 800 successful applicants because last year I missed out. In fact I was so excited, I lined up to register in the wrong queue. I copped a well-deserved eye roll from a harried supervisor who was busy marshalling VIPs. There seemed to be many.

So over the course of that brain-squeezing day, what did I learn?

Firstly, I learnt that size matters and big isn’t always better. It was immensely satisfying to sit in a comfortable auditorium where performers come to me. The TEDx experience was unlike the recent Sydney Writers Festival where multiple venues and simultaneous events meant schedule clashes and subsequent disappointment. Why are my favourite sessions always timetabled at the same time?

Speaking of size, I learnt that sweating the miniscule matters, especially when it comes to quantum computing. Trying to imagine anything smaller than a human hair is always tricky, but a plain speaking physicist kept my head from exploding. Staying with the small stuff, what is it about bees? They're smart and sensitive and you can easily fall for them, as I did with their one of their besotted keepers, a neuroscientist with a sweet smile and a long name.

I learnt that if we want to save the planet, we have to kill off the lying, thieving green movement. And while I always suspected that unstructured play is great for kids, the helicopter parent in all of us needs to hear this obvious truth over and over again, especially when it comes from an expert named Dr Kidd.

Nobel prize winner Brian Schmidt can’t retire to a vineyard outside Canberra until he sorts out why the universe is expanding.

A death specialist reminded us that fat, sloth, fags, sugar, grog and sun will kill off most of us. At lunch time I chose a small sandwich, ignored the chocolate brownies and resisted seconds.

A linguist explained why euphemisms civilise us and an earth scientist by the name of Moles tried to convince us we should love lantana as much as we do the pure-bred dingo. And as our cities struggle with population and climatic change, we must be “nimble and fleet footed” and embrace inevitable urban chaos. In fact, why not manage our carbon fingerprints and share kitchens? After all, everyone knows where the cutlery is kept, because all kitchens follow the same model.

A robot maker suggested that we should visit Brisbane airport, gaze down onto the tarmac and understand there’s no one there. The place is run by robots, but don’t be afraid, apparently the button pushers in Sydney know exactly what they’re doing. I could feel people-lovers squirm in their seats as once again, economics and efficiency makes people redundant. And don't mention the role of robots in war.

Over nine hours TEDx entertained, challenged, frightened and charmed us with gifted speakers, short films and beautiful music. Yes it was expensive, but I guess someone had to subsidise the freeloaders. Tim Friedman and the Sydney Children’s Choir made me feel proud to be a Sydney sider and after two sweet Katie Noonan songs, last week's Florence and the Machine concert seemed like a rip off.

But back to the strange correlation between devotees of grand ideas and physical attractiveness. There’s got to be a TED talk there somewhere. Maybe next year TEDx could find someone to explain it. I’d like to hear from a poet.