Acknowledgments

It is not out of adherence to convention that I first acknowledge Donald Greenberg, Director of the Program of Computer Graphics. Quite simply, if not for him, my academic career would have finished with my undergraduate degree. It was he who saw past my colorful grades and sub-optimal GRE scores to someone bent on doing graphics research. The lab environment he created was the ideal place to explore and pursue my research goals. More than anyone else, I am indebted to him for fostering the beginning of what I hope will be a long career in academic research.

The lab owes its unique character to many other people as well, who directly or indirectly helped shape this work. James Durkin patiently provided assistance with mundane software problems, and whatever direction my day-to-day research had was largely thanks to repeated discussions with him. Officemates Jon Blocksom and Sing-Choong Foo were a source of endless motivation, energy, and amusement. Mitch Collinsworth and Hurf Sheldon kept the system infrastructure exciting and fun. Most importantly, the witty banter in the morning with staff members Ellen French and Linda Stephenson, and the janitor Mary Armstrong, made it worth while to stay up all night working.

My friends have endured an unconscionable amount of flakiness on my part while grad school has consumed all too much of my time and attention. Cris Davis kept my priorities straight with frequent vegan cooking adventures, late night skateboarding, and heated discussions of all things scientific and ethical. Julian Myers arranged the soundtrack for this thesis by keeping me informed of new music to check out, and he continues to be a great example of how a successful grad student can keep school and real life in check. And despite my various lapses of both judgment and communication, Sheila Murphy has remained my best friend. Her kindness, supportiveness, and tolerance meant there was always someone to talk with. Only now coming to terms with how important this has been in maintaining my sanity, I hope to likewise repay her generosity in the coming years.

This thesis also owes its existence to my parents Peter and Marcia, since they are the ones who first taught me how to use my hands to make my ideas tangible. With my father's help they came to form as projects in wood and metal, like hand-wound DC motors; with my mother's help it was pottery and nourishing food. Now that this thesis is finally tangible, hopefully it can represent some fraction of the immense gratitude and love I have for them.

This work was supported in part by grants from the National Science Foundation (ASC 93-18180) to Mark Ellisman, Donald Greenberg, and Sid Karin, from the National Institutes of Health National Center for Research Resources (RR 04050) to Mark Ellisman, and by the NSF/ARPA Science and Technology Center for Computer Graphics and Scientific Visualization (ASC 89-20219). We gratefully acknowledge equipment grants from Hewlett-Packard, on whose workstations this research was conducted. The research presented here was also fueled in part by Collegetown Bagels, Shortstop Deli, and the GreenStar Cooperative Market.


























It's noon. My friend's apartment floor isn't the most comfortable bed, but they don't let me sleep under my office desk anymore. Its been about 30 hours since I slept last; now falling asleep is hard because I'm stressed about managing to finish this thesis within the next few weeks. People are talking and laughing outside, do I know them? I've been away at University of Utah for a year; there are some old friends who might be living near here now.

 

Voices from outside mix with voices I hear upon starting to sleep, the sounds at the edges of dreams. These voices are of my friends, my life, all the people I've known here at Cornell. Even though I've been away at Utah for a year, I've been working too much to make many friends there. So it's mostly Cornell voices.

 

And it's noon. The middle of day, and I'm sleeping now, because besides working, that's all I do. The people outside are leaving now, I've missed them. And these voices I still hear, these voices I love, I miss them too, dearly. These voices I've slept through far too many times before, sleeping by day, working at night.

 

The voices I sleep to.