It took less than an hour before most of the world’s mainstream (and alternative) media posted their canned obituaries. This time it’s for Steve Jobs; his death a long time coming. Feared, loathed, inspiring and adored like few of his contemporaries, he led a life full of contradiction; from his early Buddhist ideas and bohème life, his romanticism and artistic side to product design to his unflinching strategy and vision, his ruthless management style, his arrogance, his passion and obsession with quality and detail, his epic turnaround of a company on the brink of bankruptcy to the most successful company on this planet. In a market of diminishing margins, ever deteriorating quality, commoditisation and the unbearable mediocrity of the PC industry, he dared to think different [sic] and proved that there is a better way.

Steve Jobs was not a saint, a ‘genius’ or a ‘brilliant’ inventor as many like to call him. His policies, his ideas, his ego, his intelligence were not unmatched when considered individually. He was, however, unique in that he combined all those traits that make for legendary leadership, exceptional performance and product creation: an extremely charismatic, visionary man with just the right amount of wit, vision, passion and stubbornness to effect significant change whatever he put his mind to. He had a keen eye and an obsession for quality, lovable and inspiring products and the strength of character to go above and beyond the protocols and limits dictated by the market to create and sell them. He also had an uncanny ability to gather great people around him to execute his strategy and vision; people that are, in the end, those whose work embodies all that is Apple, all that is Pixar. And he delivered as leader of a company more so than almost anyone in the past fifty years. And for that, and the products and services he helped create — the progress he seemingly forced upon the all encompassing, yet pathetic industry that computing has become — he will be sorely missed. For, sooner or later, in a world so dependent on technology, his absence will be felt, well beyond Apple and its community.

Goodbye Steve.

Steve Jobs image courtesy of Apple Inc.

This Friday I was informed that a member of my research group at Imperial and a friend, Professor Patrick Purcell passed away. I last saw him this past December while visiting London and, despite our efforts, we did not manage to meet, but for a few minutes in some corridor at the university. Our meeting was to be postponed for early this year, when I’d be back in London. Alas, it was not meant to be.

Patrick was one of those people that you rarely find in academia today. A true gentleman, an academic from a different era, that did not equate intellectual creation with grants, money, piles of publications. A researcher without the rigid training and sterile approach favoured by large umbrella project grants and the commercialisation of research. He was an artist trapped in an engineering faculty and a very helpful friend to many of us graduate students. He had academic experience in both Europe and the U.S. (he was a member of the Architecture Machine Group at MIT and later a founding member of the Media Lab, then its incarnation in Europe, and two other research laboratories) and as such possessed a very spherical view of what academia is throughout the (western) world. We had long and varied discussions over the years about academic values and principles, intellectual creation, art, technology, society and philosophy. Despite his old age (he once jokingly told me that he had retired about seven times) he kept on coming into university regularly, working long hours editing books and journals. Academia was — very evidently — his life. This year he was planning to finally (really) retire.

When I met Patrick, about four years ago, I remember informing him about the death of Roger Needham, for whom I had written in my blog. I had met Roger Needham some months earlier at a seminar at Cambridge and Patrick had told me how they had met each other as members of a number of steering groups and committees. Patrick then commented: “It is so saddening that when you get old you get to see all your friends and acquaintances of your generation pass away; suddenly you feel so alone.”

Four years later I find myself writing a similar post about Patrick and feeling so alone, indeed. Goodbye Professor. You’ll be missed.

Update: Sunny Bains has prepared a blog where people can share their memories and stories about Patrick, here.

Update 2: The Obituary at the Times