The day we set out to create Ello, we stapled three photographs on the wall of our studio.
1) Dieter Rams: Less but better.
2) Captain Kirk: Because there are no nested menus on a Star Trek communicator.
3) Kurt Cobain: Fuck you. Who says we can't?
I can't count the number of jaded, stuck up, seen-it-all, silicon-valley start-up smart-ass types that told us that we could not do it.
"You can't compete with Facebook. Do you know how much money those guys have?"
There's a disturbing subtext to this message, which is the nihilistic assumption that it's not worth the effort to try to make something new, because the big guys have already won. In other words: give up kid, life is over, you've lost already.
But we do imagine a better world. And we always have to start at the beginning: helpless, with little money and no help. Just a few photographs tacked to a bulletin board that remind us that we are not alone.
You cannot create something truly new by competing. That's the long, dry, empty road to nowhere where know-it-alls spend their lives. Instead, we create naively, acting as if nothing in the world existed before us, and that nothing will continue when once we're done.
Ello is built to be the network that we ourselves want to use. That's the spirit that people sense when they join us for first time. It's the reason that Ello works.
There's a lot of love here.
Over there, in that other place, there's just a lot of advertising — and the rumble of slow, steady, subtle machinery telling each of us, over and over, that we have no power to change the world.
cc:// @todd @lucian @gv @jayzes @cacheflowe @mk