How data architecture is like the ballet.
Full disclosure: I’ve watched two documentaries tonight — Planet B-Boy, about the “Battle of the Year” break dancing world championships, and Ballerina, about the Kirov Ballet. For the record: Ballerina was better. That’s one dialectic, this is another.
Ballet is an art that is so technical and has had so much time to mature that the limitation — human physical potential for movement and posture — has adapted itself to the needs and whims of composers and choreographers. From a choreographer’s perspective, the perfect ballerina is the one who can listen to your instructions and bring that idea to life. Perfectly. Elegantly. Holding any pose for any amount of time, executing any series of movements so fluidly and so naturally that you would never believe a choreographer had issued instructions.
The art in ballet is making the unnatural seem natural. The magic in ballet is that you can relate to a series of choreographed movements that you yourself could never execute.
Data architecture is creating the means by which “data” becomes “information.” Think about the census: the fact that Sally Jones in Des Moines, Iowa makes $37,000 a year as a sales rep for a paper company, is married, has three children aged 5, 7, and 9, drives a Ford Taurus, subscribes to People magazine and spends $120 annually on toilet paper is a datum. (A “datum” is the singular of “data”). Multiply that by the 301,791,627 people tracked by the census in 2007 and you have data. The fact that the average household income in Des Moines is $67,798.33 and the Ford Taurus is the third most popular car in Iowa and 14% of households subscribe to People magazine is information.
Data is everywhere. Information is scarce. The number of times you brush your teeth in a week is data, the number of times you need to brush your teeth to prevent cavities is information. Your bank statements and credit card statements are data, whether you’ve exceeded your budget this month is information. Data is meaningless. Information is useful. The art of deciding the intermediary structure and processing, at a large scale, is data architecture.
Yes, I said art. The art in data architecture is making the unknowable knowable. The magic in data architecture is creating systems through which this knowledge can flow seamlessly and effortlessly, so anyone can access any piece of information they want at any time.
Ballerinas and data architects both have audiences, and both types of audiences have needs. The ballerina’s audience needs to experience the emotion intended by the composer of the ballet. The data architect’s audience needs actionable insight from the information about the source of the data. Neither the ballerina nor the data architect decide what the message is, but we deliver that message. The methods and means are totally different, but the act of interpreting potential meaning into actual meaning is the same.
Data architects and ballerinas are both technicians tasked with bringing to light that which lies beneath the surface. By learning a craft, we both hope to connect our sources to our audience in a way that is both meaningful and fruitful for them.
I never would have expected that. I really want to go see a ballet.
