2026-09-01 02:00:01
For many high school students, summer vacation is a time to unplug. For Ruchira Shree, a rising sophomore at West Windsor–Plainsboro High School South, in New Jersey, the break allows her to ramp up her extracurricular pursuits.
Much of her time is spent assisting with IEEE Princeton Central Jersey Section activities. She got involved with the PCJS because of her mother, IEEE Senior Member Shubha Bommalingaiahnapallya, who is the section’s vice chair. Bommalingaiahnapallya is a principal engineer at Intel.
“I started going to the IEEE meetings when I was little,” Shree says. “I used to go with my mom and just sit in the back of the room.”
This summer she says she’s focusing on improving her mathematics skills by attending the Program in Algorithmic and Combinatorial Thinking summer course on math and computer science. She wants to qualify for the American Invitational Mathematics Examination, an event for the top American Mathematics Competitions scorers. She earned a place on the AMC 8 honor roll—a recognition awarded to the top 1 percent of participants in the national competition—when she was in seventh grade.
Shree’s IEEE involvement and her advanced math skills caught the attention of an internship recruiter for the Alliance for Indigenous Math Circles, a group dedicated to expanding STEM opportunities for Native American students. The AIMC organizes and sponsors weeklong overnight camps. Interns assist with activities and teach some of the sessions. Shree met a recruiter at one of the section’s events, and she interned at one of the camps last year.
Shree’s involvement with the PCJS evolved naturally as she got older, she says, along the way preparing name badges and tackling similar assignments. She met Francis O’Connell, an IEEE life senior member and founder of FXO, in Plainsboro, N.J. O’Connell is the treasurer of the IEEE Integrated STEM in Education Conference (ISEC).
He has been a mentor to Shree for the past two years, he says.
At last year’s ISEC, she assisted at the registration desk and met Harini Frederickson, an AIMC intern recruiter for New Jersey.
Frederickson invited Shree, along with nine other students, to volunteer at an upcoming camp being held in Santa Fe, N.M.
“Ruchira is a real go-getter,” Frederickson says. “When she has an idea, she follows through and doesn’t get easily discouraged.”
The AIMC was created to address an important need, says math teacher Donna Fernandez, codirector of the organization. U.S. Indigenous students have the lowest rate of pursuing STEM studies across all demographics, according to the U.S. National Science Foundation. Systemic barriers such as a lack of role models in STEM fields, socioeconomic inequities, and Eurocentric teaching frameworks are some of the reasons, Rechel Shrisunder and Dwight Figueiredo wrote in a chapter of Minorities: New Challenges and Horizons, a book edited by John R. Hermann.
Indigenous people have a long tradition of mathematics, Fernandez says. She cites the Navajo code talkers from World War II as examples. The Navajo, along with 14 other Indigenous tribes, used their native languages to code and transmit critical messages for the U.S. military during the war.
There was a student at camp whose grandfather was a code talker, Shree says.
Navajo people also use math to build hogans: conical dwellings that require precise calculations to construct. Native communities have used math when building the structures for centuries, Fernandez says.
Fernandez believes typical classroom math curricula overlook the importance of mathematics in Indigenous cultures. Combining STEM activities with cultural elements helps Indigenous students better understand their ancestors’ role as mathematicians, she says.
That, in turn, helps the students see themselves in those careers, she adds.
The AIMC was built upon a program already in place: the Navajo Nation Math Circles, founded in 2012 by three university professors. Their goal was to provide the Navajo Nation’s students with tools to overcome barriers to STEM education.
To expand the math circle program, the AIMC was added to reach Indigenous students in the Four Corners area of Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico, and Utah.
Since 2017, the organization has run two camps every year at the Navajo Preparatory School in Farmington, N.M. In 2025 one camp was moved to the Santa Fe Indian School.
During each weeklong event, students and interns work in math circles. It’s a cooperative way to solve problems creatively, organizers say. Students collaborate on STEM-focused projects and learn from Indigenous STEM professionals. Interns also get the opportunity to experience an off-site cultural event.
The camps are free for students, thanks to sponsorships and donations. Teachers and interns cover their own travel expenses. Shree secured a US $1,500 sponsorship grant through the PCJS.
Relationships are an influential part of the week, Fernandez says: “One of the best things we see at the camp is that students return the following year and ask, ‘Is so-and-so intern coming back this year?’ They remember the relationships they developed, especially the cultural exchanges they had.
“Those exchanges go both ways, benefiting the interns too.”
Students spend mornings at camp working in math circles, then gather for a wrangle, during which each team defends its math circle answer and challenges other teams’ solutions. Shree and the other interns are on hand to answer questions and observe the teams as they work through the math circle problems.
“Math problems typically have very binary answers,” she says. “But in math circles, you focus more on talking through your answers to open-ended questions and learning from each other.”
Students spend afternoons working on projects. In one, the students used household items to create a replica of the Batmobile, Shree says. The car was required to be self-propelled without an engine. Balloons were a popular alternative.
Another activity focused on the Indigenous tradition of basket weaving. Students learned the cultural meaning behind traditional designs while understanding how geometry concepts influenced the finished product.
These Native American middle school students work on solving a mathematical pattern-matching game, one of the activities held at the summer camp.Ruchira Shree
“Because there’s a lack of Indigenous STEM role models, many Native American students don’t see themselves in mathematics or science,” Shree says.
To bridge that gap, Fernandez ensures Indigenous role models are part of the camp. Some of the people who spoke with students during Shree’s internship were Jessica Benally, a Ph.D. student in the learning sciences and human development program at the University of California, Berkeley, and engineers from the New Mexico Mathematics, Engineering, and Science Achievement program, which supports underrepresented preuniversity students.
“I believe the students were very inspired,” Shree says, “because they could see how they themselves could pursue STEM careers. They had people to look up to in the field who had come from backgrounds just like theirs.”
The interns’ primary responsibility was leading a two-hour, after-dinner Radio Weaves session. They taught students about a popular communication technology that doesn’t require the Internet or cell towers.
Ham radio, also known as amateur radio, is a communication method that uses designated frequencies. In the United States, anyone can listen to amateur radio transmissions; to legally transmit on the frequencies, though, a user needs a Federal Communications Commission license. The Radio Weaves project is designed to prepare students to pass the FCC technician license exam.
To make that happen, the interns customized Gimkit, a learning game, loading it with radio-specific content that mirrored topics that could appear on the test.
Each intern worked with two or three students to complete the Gimkit materials.
Frederickson, who was on hand for the camp, says the aim was to send students home with something tangible that demonstrated their STEM accomplishments.
Nearly all the students passed the exam on the first try, she says, and she worked with those who didn’t to retake the test.
All the students ultimately received their license, she says.
The interns took an afternoon off to attend a Pueblo Feast Day, a celebration filled with music and dance that culminated in visits with nearby families, with whom they shared dinner.
“The tradition is very generous and community-based,” Shree says. “It represents that every home in the village will welcome any guest to have a meal.”
The feast was the highlight of Shree’s week, she says: “I got to really experience Native American culture firsthand.”
The students inspired her, she says.
“Seeing the joy on their faces when they passed the technician exam or when they got a math problem correct showed me how much joy they find in learning,” she says. “It made me realize that I want to help provide more opportunities for them to learn and challenge themselves.”
“Because there’s a lack of Indigenous STEM role models, many Native American students don’t see themselves in mathematics or science.” —Ruchira Shree
That realization spurred her idea for a new initiative. After she returned home, she founded Rukie Cookie to create “safe, inclusive, and inspiring spaces where youths explore STEAM [and] build curiosity, strategic thinking, and innovation—empowering them to become confident leaders and active contributors to a more just and equitable society,” according to the project’s website.
Baking is one of Shree’s hobbies, and she sees it as a way to fulfill a financial need she observed at camp.
“I noticed that at lunch breaks, they [camp students] used to play chess on the side, but they couldn’t actually participate in tournaments because that requires a U.S. Chess Federation (USCF) membership fee, which they couldn’t afford,” she says. Shree bakes cookies and sells them at PCJS events. Proceeds go toward youth chess classes and USCF memberships for children in underrepresented communities.
She has raised enough money to sponsor six USCF memberships, five of whom are camp attendees, she says.
“I hope that the students I have gotten a membership for will continue growing their passion for chess,” she says, “but also that it will encourage them to challenge themselves with difficult problems.”
Shree planned to attend an AIMC camp this year, she says, but it was canceled due to resourcing issues. She says she intends to return next year with goals of adding a formal chess component to the schedule and continuing to help more students overcome financial hurdles to join the USCF.
She’s also writing a novel about Alzheimer’s disease and identity loss, and she’s conducting independent research on cognitive decline at the New Jersey Institute of Technology. Watching her great-grandmother struggle with the condition sparked her interest in the subject, she says.
She is confident STEM will be part of her future, she says. Math and cognitive science are areas of interest she plans to study, but she’s still undecided about a major. Her interest in Alzheimer’s research and a desire to apply AI to health care will influence her decision, she says.
She adds that she plans to join IEEE once she’s eligible.
2026-08-31 22:00:04
This story was originally published by Tech Policy Press.
The European Union’s push for technological sovereignty faces an uncomfortable contradiction.
As the EU rolls out AI factories, gigafactories, and new data centers, it is creating a surge in demand for the advanced semiconductors that underpin artificial intelligence. Yet Europe produces fewer than 10 percent of the world’s chips and remains heavily dependent on U.S. designers and Asian manufacturers for the most advanced processors.
That tension sits at the heart of Chips Act 2.0, the European Commission’s planned overhaul of its flagship semiconductor strategy.
The original Chips Act, adopted in 2023, sought to raise Europe’s share of global semiconductor production to 20 percent by 2030. But the European Court of Auditors has warned that target is unlikely to be met, while the Commission’s own projections put Europe’s market share at about 11.7 percent.
The Commission now wants to correct what officials see as a major weakness in the first law: It focused on expanding supply without doing enough to stimulate demand. To address that gap, Chips Act 2.0 is expected to introduce demand-side measures, including public procurement tools, demand accelerators, and closer coordination between semiconductor producers and industrial users. The Commission’s calculation is straightforward: Stronger domestic demand will encourage companies to invest in designing and manufacturing chips in Europe.
But the strategy carries a paradox. The AI infrastructure that the Commission hopes will anchor a European semiconductor ecosystem will initially rely almost entirely on advanced processors designed by U.S. companies and manufactured in Asia.
“Key positions are held by a small number of firms, mostly outside Europe,” Claire Godfrey, executive director of the Balanced Economy Project, told Tech Policy Press.
The European Commission’s AI Continent action plan includes 19 AI factories, computing facilities that integrate energy sources, specialized chips, and other infrastructure for running AI models and applications, plans for up to five AI gigafactories (since upgraded to seven), and a proposal to at least triple the bloc’s data center capacity within five to seven years under the Cloud and AI Development Act. That expansion will require a large supply of advanced AI processors.
The Center for European Policy Studies (CEPS) estimates that each planned AI factory site requires up to 25,000 advanced chips, while a gigafactory requires at least 100,000.
Almost all of those processors are expected to come from Nvidia. The company supplies most of the graphics processing units deployed in Europe, while its proprietary CUDA software underpins much of the AI software ecosystem. CEPS warns this could create an “Nvidia dependency trap,” where computing infrastructure is physically located in Europe but remains technologically dependent on a single U.S. supplier.
Recent AI infrastructure projects in Europe illustrate the problem. Mistral has lined up 13,800 Nvidia GPUs for a data center near Paris. Deutsche Telekom’s Munich Industrial AI Cloud is being built with nearly 10,000 Nvidia Blackwell GPUs. And Nscale says its Sines deployment for Microsoft will start with more than 12,600 Nvidia Blackwell Ultra GPUs before expanding to more than 66,000 in 2027.
The challenge extends well beyond Nvidia. Even if Europe succeeds in expanding semiconductor manufacturing, the global supply chain limits how much autonomy any single region can achieve.
“Europe depends on both the United States and Asia, but at different stages of the value chain,” Toni Roldán-Monés, economist and assistant professor of public policy at IE University, told Tech Policy Press.
“The United States maintains a dominant position in areas such as chip design, intellectual property, and certain frontier equipment. Meanwhile, the manufacturing of the most advanced semiconductors is highly concentrated in Asia, especially in Taiwan and South Korea, while China plays a fundamental role in various materials, industrial processes, and critical minerals,” said Roldán.
Europe’s reliance on third countries is more evident in some parts of the chip value chain. In fabrication, Taiwan produces around 90 percent of the world’s most advanced chips. In packaging, assembly, and testing, the EU holds just 4 percent of the market and remains highly dependent on Asia, according to Laith Altimime, President of SEMI Europe.
“The objective is… to avoid excessive dependence on a single country, company, or technology.” Toni Roldán-Monés
“No top 20 assembly, test, and packaging company is headquartered in the EU,” Godfrey said. “There is also the materials issue. China dominates several inputs used in key parts of the semiconductor and advanced electronics supply chain.”
Europe nevertheless retains important advantages.
The region is home to ASML, the Dutch company that dominates the market for extreme ultraviolet lithography systems, and to Belgium’s Imec, one of the world’s leading semiconductor research centers. Europe also remains a key supplier of specialist materials and power electronics.
Those strengths, however, “do not translate into autonomy across the semiconductor value chain,” Roldán said.
Few experts believe complete semiconductor self-sufficiency is achievable.
Instead, the goal should be to reduce strategic vulnerabilities rather than eliminate international interdependence. “It is not conceivable that one country can rebuild the supply chain. Global collaboration is key,” SEMI Europe’s Altimime told Tech Policy Press. SEMI forecasts that by 2028 the Europe, Middle East, and Africa region will only manufacture about 68 percent by volume of the non-memory semiconductor chips it demands.
“The challenge is to reduce dependencies that could become geopolitical vulnerabilities,” argues Roldán. “The sensible approach is to strengthen critical parts of the value chain, diversify suppliers, protect sensitive data, and develop domestic capabilities in strategic sectors. That can coexist perfectly well with foreign suppliers: The objective is not to expel them, but to avoid excessive dependence on a single country, company, or technology.”
That distinction is especially relevant for Europe’s sovereignty ambitions. As Godfrey notes, “European firms are building around Nvidia hardware, CUDA, cloud infrastructure, and the software choices that come with them. That leaves Europe with two problems. It relies on Asian manufacturing and materials chokepoints. It is also at risk of trying to address that exposure by tying itself more closely to U.S.-controlled AI and cloud infrastructure. The Chips Act 2.0 needs to deal with both, or it will miss a large part of the problem.”
Roldán said Europe’s greatest vulnerability is dependence on partners willing to use global supply chains for geopolitical leverage. Whether Chips Act 2.0 reduces that risk, experts say, will depend on whether it diversifies suppliers rather than just shifting dependence from Asian manufacturers to U.S. technology companies.
2026-08-31 20:00:01
In a display case on the lower level of the Faraday Museum at the Royal Institution in London, there’s an unassuming stack of gray metal discs and blotting paper. It’s not at all obvious that this humble object is the starting point of today’s multibillion-dollar global battery industry. The object’s invention in 1799 grew out of a disagreement that Alessandro Volta—the Italian physicist for whom the unit of measurement for electrical potential is named—had with his friend Luigi Galvani over a dead frog.
Galvani was a well-respected Italian physician. In the 1770s, he began investigating the use of electricity to stimulate the muscles of dissected frogs. Armed with an electrostatic generator and an early type of capacitor called a Leyden jar, he was able to create a charge, store it, and then zap his animal specimens at will. He was intrigued when the frog legs twitched as if they were still alive. He spent the last three decades of the 18th century studying the phenomenon, and in 1791, he published De viribus electricitatis in motu musculari commentarius (Commentary on the Effect of Electricity on Muscular Motion).
Luigi Galvani spent decades investigating what he believed to be a natural electric force emanating from animals. Universal History Archive/Getty Images
Galvani saw the frog as embodying an “animal electricity,” an innate vital force that activated nerves and muscles, similar to what had been observed in (living) electric eels and torpedo rays. For Galvani, the frog was an electrical machine analogous to a Leyden jar. The brain was the source of the electrical charge; the nerves conducted the electrical fluid; and the muscles stored opposite charges. The illustrations in his 1791 book are fabulous—frog legs spread all over his laboratory table!
Galvani was wrong in thinking that his frogs were electrical machines, but he was right that the muscle contractions were caused by electric signals.SSPL/Getty Images
At first, Volta, chair of physics at the University of Pavia, concurred with his friend. But after beginning his own experiments, he concluded that Galvani was wrong and that the frog generated no electricity at all. He thought of the frog as nothing more than an electroscope, an instrument to indicate the presence of an electrical charge. Volta posited that the source of the charge Galvani observed came from two different metals in contact with the frog. He termed this “metallic electricity.”
Alessandro Volta came to disagree with Galvani’s theory of animal electricity.Apic/Getty Images
To prove his point, Volta created an “artificial electric organ.” He stacked alternating discs of copper and zinc, separated by cardboard, blotting paper, or cloth soaked in brine or acid. When the top and bottom plates were connected, an electric current flowed through the stack. As opposed to a Leyden jar, which is essentially a capacitor that can store an electric charge and release it in a brief powerful discharge, his stack of discs generated its own electricity through a chemical reaction and delivered a sustained low-current output.
Volta didn’t publicly demonstrate or announce his artificial electric organ until after Galvani died in 1798. But when he finally did, in 1799, it immediately began upending science. Just six weeks after Volta wrote to the Royal Society about his invention, the English scientists William Nicholson and Anthony Carlisle used a voltaic pile to run a current through water to separate it into hydrogen and oxygen. They had discovered chemical electrolysis. Humphry Davy later used a large voltaic pile to isolate a number of elements, including potassium, sodium, calcium, strontium, and barium. Early piles petered out after a few hours. Users who stacked up more metal discs to make more powerful piles found the weight of the discs squeezed out the moisture in the paper or cloth.
Invented in 1799, Volta’s “artificial electric organ” (later known as the voltaic pile) was the first battery. Volta presented this one to Michael Faraday in 1814.Royal Institution of Great Britain/Science Source
One of the most enthusiastic users of the voltaic pile was Galvani’s nephew, Giovanni Aldini, who spent much of his career defending his uncle’s ideas. Aldini created spectacles across Europe in which he used voltaic piles to shock the carcasses of livestock and, occasionally, the bodies of recently executed convicts. Vivid descriptions in the popular press, as well as Aldini’s own writings, raised the question of whether electricity could bring the dead back to life. Mary Shelley provided her answer in her 1818 novel, Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus. In an introduction to an 1831 edition, Shelley cites galvanism as one of her inspirations for the monster’s reanimation process.
Scientists and historians share a common trait: They like stories with clear winners and losers. The narrative of competition helps drive a narrative of progress that makes it look like humanity is always moving forward. In the case of Galvani and Volta, Volta is usually depicted as the clear winner in the debate over animal versus metallic electricity. The Encyclopedia Britannica goes as far as to write that “with his announcement of the first electric battery in 1800, victory was assured for Volta.”
But both science and history are more nuanced than that. In fact, Galvani and Volta were both partially right and partially wrong. There was no universal force of animal electricity, but Galvani was correct that electrical signals caused muscle contractions, which he discussed in his anonymous 1794 publication Dell’uso e dell’attività dell’arco conduttore nella contrazione dei muscoli (On the Use and Activity of the Conductive Arch in the Contraction of Muscles). Volta was right to push back on Galvani’s animal electricity theory, but he was wrong that electrophysiological effects require two different types of metal, or any metal at all; the circuit in the voltaic pile was closed by the wet paper or cloth.
It seems a little presumptuous for the Encyclopedia Britannica to declare Volta the winner and Galvani the loser. Volta definitely thought his friend was wrong, but he waited until after Galvani’s death to make his views public. It’s closer to the truth to say they were both genuinely curious to understand the nature of electricity. In the process, they unknowingly helped develop different fields of inquiry: electrophysiology for Galvani and electrochemistry and battery science for Volta.
Such an outcome is actually quite common in scientific disagreements. For example, Isaac Newton’s dispute with Christiaan Huygens over the nature of light—did light consist of particles, or corpuscles, as Newton termed them, or waves, as Huygens contested—breaks down today into quantum optics and classical optics. Similarly, Louis Pasteur’s and Justus von Liebig’s debate over fermentation (microorganisms versus chemical decomposition) led to two complementary fields: microbiology and biochemistry.
Maybe instead of looking for winners and losers, we would be better off expanding our horizons and considering the multiple paths of inquiry and discovery. Writing in 1816, toward the end of his career, Volta graciously acknowledged Galvani’s pioneering work, saying “it contains one of the most beautiful and surprising discoveries and the germ of many others.” What new revelations are waiting to develop out of today’s scientific debates?
Part of a continuing series looking at historical artifacts that embrace the boundless potential of technology.
An abridged version of this article appears in the September 2026 print issue as “The First Battery.”
On 20 March 1800, a year and three months after the death of Luigi Galvani, Alessandro Volta wrote a letter (in French) to Joseph Banks, president of the Royal Society, describing his invention of an artificial electric organ. It was read before the Society on 26 June and published in Philosophical Transactions on the last day of that year as “On the electricity excited by the mere contact of conducting substances of different kinds.”
The Smithsonian Institution Libraries used their rare books in the online exhibit The Body Electric, which has more information on both Galvani and Aldini.
The website of the Whipple Museum in Cambridge, England, has a number of pages devoted to frogs, including a very informative description of the role frogs played in Galvani’s experiments and how those led to Volta’s work.
2026-08-29 23:35:01
One day in 1982, Joseph “Rod” Canion and two colleagues from Texas Instruments sat down at the House of Pies in Houston and used a napkin to sketch out what would become Compaq’s portable PC. In 1996, Felix Zandman, founder of Vishay Intertechnology, dined at Husker Steak House in Columbus, Neb., grabbed a napkin and drafted a design for a power metal strip resistor, which became crucial to power-management components in industrial, automotive, and consumer applications. Now that wispy piece of paper resides at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History. Perhaps most famously, Robert Metcalfe, working at Xerox PARC in 1973, roughed out some early designs for what would become the Ethernet, though contrary to popular belief, no napkin was involved.
Yet another napkin was pressed into service last year, when Kurt Polzin, chief engineer of the space nuclear propulsion project at NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center, met Robert Schleicher of General Atomics Electromagnetic Systems at a conference and started talking about nuclear rocket design.
“They did the classic let’s-sketch-out-an-idea-on-a-napkin,” says IEEE Spectrum’s Special Projects Editor and our in-house spaceflight expert Stephen Cass. “This rocket engine is still at the paper-planning stage, which, to be fair, is where most of NASA’s humans-to-Mars planning has been for the last 60 years.”
Meanwhile, the world’s richest person is pushing for humans to colonize Mars in time for him to escape our hospitable blue marble for a completely barren red planet. One big problem with this idea: It takes a long time in hostile space to get there.
“Here’s our napkin. Noodle on this with us and tell us what you think.” —Stephen Cass
There’s an old saw, mostly used in the context of road safety, that speed kills. But when it comes to sending humans on interplanetary missions, the faster the better. As Cass pointed out, “Once you get outside the Van Allen belts, there’s so much natural radioactivity—that’s the real killer.” Nuclear electric propulsion could both minimize launch costs and the time fragile human bodies are subjected to microgravity and radiation. And that makes a synchronal bimodal nuclear engine that could both power and propel a spaceship an attractive alternative to a conventional rocket.
Polzin and Schleicher think their nuclear engines could halve the time it takes to get to Mars. There may be ways to tweak the design to go even faster and further. But for now, the idea sits on the drawing board, awaiting feedback and refinement.
“They’re pulling together a lot of fairly mature technology,” says Cass, who edited Polzin and Schleicher’s article, “A Reimagined Nuclear Rocket.” “Electric propulsion is mature. Nuclear thermal propulsion is not, but thanks to [previous efforts], we have a good idea how to do it. The new part is merging them together, and that of course throws up its own challenges.”
Thanks to Cass and illustrator John MacNeill, Polzin and Schleicher’s idea has moved from a napkin to the pages of this month’s issue. Says Cass, “The whole point of the article is to say, ‘Here’s our napkin. Noodle on this with us and tell us what you think.’” We invite you to do so in the comments beneath the web version of this article. Or do it the old-fashioned way and mail the authors your own napkin.
2026-08-29 02:00:04
While walking to school as a child, Jernej Barbič would marvel at how beautiful his home was. He was born and raised in a picturesque village in northwestern Slovenia (formerly Yugoslavia), located in the European Alps. Surrounded by alpine and beech trees, Barbic dreamed of replicating their swaying in the wind for others to enjoy.
At the time, he didn’t have the tools or the knowledge to create a system that could do that, but it sparked his interest in computer graphics, he says.
Employer
University of Southern California, in Los Angeles
Title
Professor of computer science
Member grade
Senior member
Alma maters
University of Ljubljana, in Slovenia; Carnegie Mellon
Twenty years later, in 2016, Barbič, a professor of computer science at the University of Southern California, in Los Angeles, made his mark. His Ziva VFX software system allows for the creation of realistic muscle, fat, and skin simulations for 3D digital humans and creatures.
The technology was launched in 2016 by a startup he helped found, Ziva Dynamics, headquartered in Vancouver. It was acquired in 2021 by Unity Technologies of San Francisco.
Ziva VFX has been used in more than 60 movies including Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom; Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire; and Venom: Let There Be Carnage.
For the design and development of Ziva VFX, Barbič, an IEEE senior member, received a 2025 technical achievement Academy Award. It was a “tremendous honor,” he says, as the award recognizes technologies that have had a significant impact on motion picture production.
“Computer graphics and simulation can sometimes feel like a specialized technical field,” he says, “but the award showed that these ideas affect not just science but also art and how stories are told on screen.
“The digital characters enabled by mathematics become important parts of people’s lives.”
Barbič says he was inspired to pursue engineering by his father, an engineer who headed a cement factory’s research department and invented a technology that uses magnetic resonance imaging to test the integrity of cement. His father’s work showed him that “mathematics and physics are beautiful on their own, but engineering lets you build something that other people can use,” he says.
It was Barbič’s mother, an elementary school teacher, who introduced him to computer science. When he was 8 years old, the school his mother taught at bought a ZX Spectrum computer. With permission from the principal, she brought it home for her son to play on for two weeks. But he didn’t just play games; he created his own game using the BASIC programming language.
The machine came with a booklet that contained instructions on how to write a computer program, he says.
“At first,” he says, “I copied them verbatim without understanding what they did. But then I started realizing there is structure, and I modified the instructions.”
Of all the creatures brought to life using his technology, Barbič is particularly enamored with King Kong from 2024’s Godzilla vs. Kong.DNEG/Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc./Legendary
By the end of the two weeks, he’d developed a computer game where players guided a snowman along a winding road. It shifted unpredictably to the left or right, and players accumulated points by remaining on the road for as long as possible.
Barbič went on to earn a bachelor’s degree in mathematics in 2000 from the University of Ljubljana, in Slovenia. The following year, he moved to the United States to begin a doctoral program in computer science at Carnegie Mellon. It was a major turning point in his life, he says.
His doctoral research focused on developing simulation methods for objects that can change their shape when an outside force is applied to them, known as “deformable objects.”
That project shaped much of his later research, he says: “I became interested not only in making simulations accurate but also in making them practical: fast enough, robust enough, and controllable enough to be used in real applications.”
After earning his Ph.D. in computer science in 2007, he worked as a postdoctoral researcher at MIT. Two years later, he joined USC as an assistant professor.
It was at USC that Barbič merged his passion for computer science with film. He developed Vega FEM, an open-source software program that allowed people to animate realistic 3D deformable objects. But Vega FEM was narrow in scope and not exactly what filmmakers needed, he says, so he started exploring how to create a version suitable for the movie industry.
“A major theme of my career has been the translation of research ideas into practical tools,” he says. “Academic research often produces beautiful algorithms, but it can be difficult to make those algorithms usable by artists, engineers, or production teams. I have always been interested in that bridge: taking rigorous computational methods and turning them into systems that people can actually use.”
In 2011 he attended an Association for Computing Machinery conference presented by its Special Interest Group on Computer Graphics and Interactive Techniques (SIGGraph). There he met James Jacobs, the creature supervisor at visual effects company Weta FX of Wellington, New Zealand. The company is behind the effects in the Lord of the Rings and Hobbit trilogies and other movies. Jacobs used Barbič’s software to create animals and fantastical creatures.
Two years later, Weta FX offered Barbič a summerlong research position in New Zealand. He accepted and spent the time studying the process of creating visual effects and learning what roadblocks existed in the film industry, he says.
At the time, the technology to create realistic soft-tissue and anatomical simulation for digital characters didn’t exist.
“The visual effects industry had reached a point where surface-level realism was not enough,” Barbič says. “A creature could have beautiful skin textures and detailed geometry, but if the bones, muscles, and fat underneath did not move correctly, the illusion would break.
“The problem was especially difficult for creatures and characters that need to feel alive: animals, monsters, fantasy creatures, or digital doubles. Their bodies may have unfamiliar anatomy, but the audience still anticipates them to move in a way that matches real-world expectations. Muscles should bulge and contract, skin should stretch and slide, fat should have inertia, and tissue should respond to motion and impact.”
In an effort to solve the problem Jacobs in 2014 approached Barbič about founding a startup. In 2015 they launched Ziva Dynamics, where they began what is now Ziva VFX.
The software uses physics-based simulations to model the internal anatomy of a character. It numerically solves the partial differential equations of nonlinear elasticity for musculoskeletal human and creature tissues, Barbič says. The equations describe how muscles, fat, skin, and connective tissue deform, interact with bones, and connect, and how muscles activate. Instead of animating only the outside surface, artists can create a model with underlying muscles, bones, soft tissue, and fat. Each component is assigned material properties, constraints, attachments, and activations. The simulator then computes how they deform and interact over time.
The technology uses ideas from computational mechanics, finite element methods, numerical optimization, contact handling, and computer graphics, Barbič says. Finite element simulation, a method used to predict how a product or structure reacts to heat and other real-world forces, provides a way to model deformable materials volumetrically, not just as surfaces, he says. The tool computes internal elastic forces and solves the equations of motion so the character’s tissues respond plausibly to animation, pose changes, muscle activation, and dynamic motion.
But the system had to be designed for artists, Barbič says. In production, he says, the goal is not only physical realism but also controllable realism.
“Artists need to direct the result, iterate, and fit the simulation into a larger animation pipeline,” he says. “So the technology had to combine scientific simulation with practical controls, robustness, and integration with visual effects workflows.”
Barbič says Ziva VFX has been used in more than 60 movies. Of all the creatures brought to life using his technology, he is particularly enamored with King Kong from 2024’s Godzilla vs. Kong.
“When King Kong is walking, you can see the muscles, how they’re very pronounced, and how they influence the shape of the skin. You can really feel the strength of King Kong,” he says. “And this was made through my software, so I think it’s amazing.”
After Ziva Dynamics was acquired by Unity, Barbič consulted for the company for almost two years.
In 2024 DNEG, a London-based visual effects and computer animation company, acquired the exclusive license to Ziva VFX.
Barbič strives to improve visual effects as an entrepreneur and an academic. His most recent research, funded by the U.S. National Science Foundation, focused on the modeling, simulation, and animation of human hands. The goal is to create computer models of hands that can be used to design tools, medical prosthetics, and robotic hands.
“The hand is a fascinating and difficult system,” Barbič says. “It contains many small bones, muscles, tendons, ligaments, skin, fat, and other soft tissues, all packed into a compact structure and interacting mechanically in complex ways.”
He and his team built a digital twin of the human hand.
He aimed to move toward “anatomically meaningful simulation,” he says. He used medical imaging, geometric modeling, finite element methods, and multibody simulation to represent the internal structures of the hand and its motions.
“IEEE lets me place my work not only in the world of images and animation but also in the world of engineering systems that must be accurate, stable, interactive, and useful.”
He worked with Bohan Wang, who at the time was a USC doctoral candidate, and George Matcuk, an associate professor of radiology. Wang is now an assistant professor of computer science at the National University of Singapore.
Barbič, Wang, and Matcuk scanned four people’s hands with an MRI machine. The two men and two women would position their hands in 12 poses, which allowed the team to gather data about how the bones, muscles, and fat move with each pose.
The data sets are available for anyone to use in their own studies.
“This project can help medical doctors learn more about how the hand is moving,” Barbič says. “It’s also great for roboticists to better understand how the human hand actually works, so [the movements] can be replicated.”
Barbič joined IEEE in 2008, when he published his research paper on simulation methods for deformable objects in the inaugural issue of the IEEE Transactions on Haptics. He has since published several papers in the IEEE Transactions on Visualization and Computer Graphics, which he says connected his work to a wider community interested in visual computing and computational methods. You can find his research in the IEEE Xplore Digital Library.
“IEEE recognizes the engineering side of computer science,” he says. “My work is often presented as computer graphics, but at its core, it is also simulation, mechanics, numerical methods, haptics, visualization, and software systems.
“IEEE is a community where that broader identity makes sense. It lets me place my work not only in the world of images and animation but also in the world of engineering systems that must be accurate, stable, interactive, and useful.”
He believes the organization is key in supporting a healthy interdisciplinary research ecosystem at a global scale—which, he says, is why he has served as an associate editor for Transactions on Visualization and Computer Graphics and Transactions on Haptics.
Being a member has made it easier for Barbič to connect with engineers in different fields, he says.
“My research often lives between categories: It is mathematical but also practical; visual but also mechanical; artistic but also engineering-driven,” he says. “IEEE is one of the professional communities where that mixture is understood.”
2026-08-27 22:46:56
I never intended to join the cutting edge of electromechanical television. I just wanted to make a nice clock. But sometimes you have to go where the engineering takes you, and in my case it took me to the Scanwheel, a pocket-size wide-screen electromechanical TV with a resolution of 4,096 by 20 pixels. Yup, that’s 4K by 20.
The 3D-printed drum [top] is spun by a motor controlled by a driver board [second row, from top]. The driver board, in turn, is controlled by a Raspberry Pi Pico [middle], which also controls the LEDs [second row, from bottom], which are mounted in the 3D-printed casing [bottom] so that the holes pass over them as the drum turns.James Provost
Electromechanical television was the first form of practical television, developed by John Logie Baird in the 1920s. He used a so-called Nipkow disk, which has a spiral of holes punched through it. As the disk rotates, the holes pass one by one in front of a light source. By varying the brightness of the light as a hole travels across it, you can draw one scan line of a video frame. Spin the disk fast enough, and persistence of vision makes it look like an entire frame is being displayed simultaneously. Commercial electromechanical TV sets were produced in the United Kingdom, with regular broadcasts provided by the BBC in the 1930s.
Although cathode-ray tubes replaced electromechanical televisions in the 1940s, hobbyists have continued to build them and even improve on the original technology. For example, in the June 2022 installment of IEEE Spectrum’s Hands On, Markus Mierse presented a desktop-size 3D-printed color version.
I built an electromechanical display myself some years ago, but it had a traditional design with a Nipkow disk made from a vinyl record with holes drilled in it. Recently I started tinkering with electromechanical TV again as an outgrowth of my YouTube channel. There I’ve been focusing on developing volumetric displays, which create 3D pixels floating within a volume of space. In particular, I was interested in borrowing some ideas from plenoptic cameras, which use pinholes and lenses to capture multidimensional light fields of samples.
I wondered if I could run the process in reverse, to create light fields rather than capture them. I often explore ideas in two dimensions before expanding to the third, so I thought I’d first demonstrate a 2D display. I decided to make an electromechanical device into a clock. After all, you don’t need high resolution to display digits.
Thinking about the display as a clockface pushed me toward some key ideas. First, instead of having just one display area, I would use five light sources to create multiple areas—four to represent hours and minutes, and a central area for a separator that would blink each second. Second, to align the digits in a readable row rather than have them spread around an arc, I swapped the Nipkow disk for an established alternative: a Nipkow drum.
With a drum, the holes run along the curved cylindrical surface in a stair-step pattern. This means they always trace a straight line from the perspective of a viewer looking from the side, so the clock’s digits would be horizontally aligned.
“In tests, I’ve pushed the horizontal resolution to more than 8,000 pixels.”
These two decisions turned out to be key to achieving both miniaturization and high horizontal resolution. A disk needs a fairly wide diameter so that the scan lines aren’t ridiculously curved. But curvature isn’t a problem with a drum. A drum can be much smaller than a disk that has the same number of scan lines. (And unlike in the 1920s, packing multiple light sources close together inside a small drum isn’t a problem with modern LEDs.) I settled on a 6-centimeter-wide drum, turning the device from desktop-size to something you could carry in your pocket.
I then realized my five display zones could work in concert to create one single wide screen. Because it’s possible to modulate the brightness of an LED at very high rates, the horizontal resolution can also be very high. My system currently has 4K horizontal resolution, and this is primarily limited by the amount of onboard memory I have available. This memory holds the buffer that stores pixel data for each frame before it is read out to the LEDs and displayed. In tests, I’ve pushed the horizontal resolution to more than 8,000 pixels.
Despite the Scanwheel’s low vertical resolution—at 20 pixels, it has fewer scan lines than Baird’s 30-line televisions—its high horizontal resolution makes the legibility of the display surprisingly good: I can display not just crude digits but video streamed into the frame buffer.
That frame buffer lives on a Raspberry Pi Pico microcontroller board, based around the RP2040 microcontroller. The RP2040 is ideal for this project because of the chip’s dedicated PIO silicon. PIO stands for programmable input/output, and it’s a block of four coprocessors that uses a very limited instruction set. Each coprocessor can be set up to chew through input/output streams completely independently of the RP2040’s two CPU cores.
The first mechanical TVs used disks, which had to be wide to minimize image distortion but allowed bulky light sources. With small, modern light sources, a smaller drum can create images with minimal distortion.James Provost
It’s thanks to the PIO that I’m able to keep up with the spinning drum and modulate each of the five LEDs simultaneously as holes pass over them, a task complicated by the fact that the center LED is not a monochrome LED, but a color LED with separate red, green, and blue channels. In fact, the PIO does nearly all the work, pulling data from the frame buffer and controlling the LEDs and the spinning of the drum. The code running on the CPU (written in MicroPython) is primarily responsible for setting up the PIO and then leaving well enough alone.
A stepper motor connected to a driver board spins the drum, with power provided by the USB jack on the Pi Pico. All the Pi Pico has to do controlwise is send the board a pulse to incrementally advance the drum’s position once every millisecond. Video data is streamed into the Pi Pico via a network interface. You can set up the Scanwheel to mirror a portion of your computer’s screen, or to act as a separate display.
The casing, including the drum, is 3D printed. Now for a neat bit: In the Scanwheel’s GitHub repository at https://github.com/AncientJames/Scanwheel/tree/main, alongside all the other files you’ll need to make this project yourself, there’s an OpenSCAD file that generates the 3D-print file for the drum based on adjustable parameters. This means you can easily make a taller drum and add more scan lines, or try other customizations for your very own portable electromechanical display. You can even use it as a clock!