About Tim Elliot
Rhino CAD specialist, designer, engineer, artist and founder of 3D ANZ.
I've spent a good part of my working life discovering what happens when design, software and manufacturing technology meet.
My work has taken me from industrial and product design to architecture, marine design, mechanical engineering and digital fabrication. Along the way I've also used the same tools to design sculptures that have ended up on beaches, in exhibitions and in some rather unexpected places.
That probably explains why I don't see Rhino simply as a piece of software. I see it as a tool for solving problems, exploring ideas and making things real.
First I had to be convinced about CAD
My first serious encounter with computer-aided design came while studying for a Master's degree in design at Domus Academy in Milan, Italy.
At the time, I wasn't convinced that computer-aided design was the future. I was sufficiently unconvinced to watch a company go bust after dismissing the technology.
It was a useful lesson.
Before you dismiss a technology, it helps to understand it.
That experience led me to take the subject rather more seriously. I went on to complete an MPhil in computer-aided design at Gray's School of Art, jointly with the Scott Sutherland School of Architecture in Aberdeen, Scotland.
That combination gave me a particularly useful perspective. I became comfortable working with computer-aided design in architecture as well as creative 2D and 3D design.
From CAD to Rhino
And eventually to 3D ANZ
My early career included work in the UK CAD publishing industry, including as editor of CADdesk, CADD and MicroStation User magazines, and later as conference chair for SolidModelling '99.
That gave me a broad view of the rapidly developing CAD industry and the people using it.
I saw different approaches to computer-aided design emerge. I watched technologies become established. I saw some ideas work brilliantly and others become accepted simply because they had been around for long enough.
Then I discovered Rhino.
Actually, that discovery began before Rhino became the standalone tool we know today.
I explored an early sandbox prototype called AccuModel for AutoCAD. It had too many limitations in that environment, but nonetheless morphed into the standalone tool we know today.
My experience with early CAD technologies is one reason I'm cautious about making quick judgements about software.
You need to understand what something is trying to do, and what problem it is trying to solve, before deciding whether it is useful.
So when I say I've worked with Rhino for more than 26 years, that's actually the conservative version.
Why Rhino?
Discovery is part of the appeal
As a co-founder of Simply Rhino, I was keen to show people that Rhino didn't have to be complicated.
When you work with real geometry in a direct modelling way, I believe the process can become simpler.
That doesn't mean every design problem is simple.
It means the software doesn't always need to make the problem more complicated.
I've worked with Rhino for more than 26 years, and I still genuinely prefer it for the freedom it gives me to explore a design.
You can start with an idea, change your mind, try something else and keep working.
Good design often involves changing your mind.
Designing things that have to work
From boats to mechanical engineering
One of the things I enjoy about design is that eventually somebody has to build the thing.
My work has included marine design, including the hull and deck design for the Haines Hunter SP725. The interior was designed by others.
Marine design is a good test of whether a model is more than just a pretty picture. The surfaces have to work, the proportions have to work, and eventually the design has to become something that can be manufactured and put into the water.
The SP725 went on to win Overall Boat of the Show and GRP Fishing Boat Open Class at the 2011 Hutchwilco New Zealand Boat Show.
When the design gets technical
I'm comfortable moving between design and engineering problems.
I've also worked in mechanical engineering, including reverse engineering a waterjet unit and improving upon the original.
Sometimes that means understanding how a mechanical component works, working backwards from an existing part and then improving the design.
A three-dimensional model isn't necessarily the end result. Sometimes it is the beginning of understanding how something works, how it could work better, and how to make the improved version.
Architecture is part of the picture
Design experience across disciplines
My experience with computer-aided design extends into architecture and jewellery design as well as industrial and product design.
I've always been interested in the point where an idea has to become something that can actually be built. Architecture is another version of that problem.
And then there is the sculpture
Because apparently CAD wasn't enough
All of my sculptures have been designed in Rhino, apart from the ones I made at school in the 1970s.
Sculpture gives me a different reason to use the same tools. There is no client specification telling me what the finished object has to look like. The challenge is often to discover what the geometry wants to do.
Dawn Awakening was exhibited at Harbourview Sculpture Trail and subsequently at Sculpture on the Shore. When re-titled Self-Portrait (because that is actually what it was), it went on to receive second place in the 2016 NZ Art in Structure competition.
Colloquially, "Number 8 Wire" is a very Kiwi expression. It has become shorthand for ingenuity, resourcefulness and making something work with whatever happens to be available.
That spirit appeals to me.
I won the President's Award in the first Number 8 Wire exhibition I entered with a sculpture entitled: "Nautilus". And later in 2017, I won the People's Choice Award for "999 Eight-Gauge Seeds of Inspiration, 31 Scoops of Sunshine".
The sculpture used 999 lengths of No.8 wire arranged in a Fibonacci spiral inspired by sunflower seeds, together with an LED light, Kiwiscoops and a cast-iron wheel. I used Grasshopper to set out the Fibonacci spiral of sunflower seeds.
Another Rhino-designed sculpture won the competition for the beach sculpture at Mairangi Bay, where it still stands today.
The work crosses the Tasman too
Just as my 3D ANZ CAD business has a presence in both New Zealand and Australia, so does my art.
In 2016, the Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC) ran a phone-in competition to choose the People's Choice at an exhibition in which I entered a sculpture created in Rhino in collaboration with mosaicist Kate Millington.
Our kingfisher sculpture won People's Choice.
It is one of those projects that neatly demonstrates what I like about Rhino. The software doesn't particularly care whether you are designing a boat, a building, a mechanical component or a bird. This one was 2.25m long!
The software is the tool. The design is the point.
This is probably the simplest way I can explain how I approach Rhino.
The workshop tools are no different, neither is the computer-aided design (CAD), neither is the computer-aided manufacturing (CAM).
I make extensive use of 3D ANZ's laser cutters, computer numerical control (CNC) routers and 3D printers in the manufacture of my sculptures.
The technology is there to help me make something. It isn't the reason for making it.
I think the same principle applies to good design, to software and to manufacturing technology.
If it isn't accessible, it is elitist.
You don't have to have a big chequebook to buy Rhino. At its price point it is incredible value for money and we don't ping you with annual subscriptions.
What experience is actually useful for
Knowing what to do next
A long career in technology doesn't mean having all the answers.
It means having seen enough different answers to become interested in the questions.
I've learned not to dismiss something simply because I don't understand it.
I've also learned that people don't generally find CAD intimidating because they are incapable of learning it.
They find it intimidating because they don't yet feel confident about what they're doing.
That's a very different problem.
If you don't know what something means, a page full of technical terminology can make a simple idea seem complicated.
If you don't know which tool to use, every button can look like the wrong one.
And if you don't understand why something works, it is difficult to know what to try next.
That's where experience can help.
Not because I know every command.
I don't!
There are literally thousands of them, many with as many as ten options.
So if I don't know the answer, I do know where to look and how to find it.
There are many ways to skin the cat in Rhino.
But you can't start by looking at it and asking whether you should skin it this way or that.
No jargon for the sake of it
Technical subjects inevitably come with technical language. That's fine.
But technical language should make something clearer, not make you feel as though you've wandered into a conversation halfway through.
So I try to explain things.
The first time I use an acronym, I spell it out. If a term has two meanings, I say so. And if something can be explained in ordinary language, I usually prefer ordinary language.
Knowing the terminology isn't the same thing as understanding the subject.
There is always more to discover
After all these years, I'm still discovering things.
New software, new manufacturing methods, new ways of modelling and new ways of turning an idea into something you can actually hold in your hands.
That's probably why I still enjoy it.
The software keeps changing. The machines keep changing. The possibilities keep expanding.
The interesting bit is deciding what to do with them.
The software is the tool. The design is the point.
Tell me what you're trying to make.
We'll start there.
You can call me from Australia and speak to me personally on 1800-659767. Kiwis can get me on my mobile at 0210-683480