In a world saturated with sleek surfaces and seamless design, the internal structure of electronic devices often remains hidden—out of sight and out of mind. Yet beneath those polished exteriors lies an intricate, mesmerizing world of engineered complexity. Open Circuits, a groundbreaking visual anthology by Google hardware engineer Eric Schlaepfer and photographer Windell Oskay, lifts the veil on this hidden realm. Through painstaking craftsmanship and artistic vision, the book invites readers to rediscover everyday electronics—not as sterile instruments, but as intricate microcosms of design, science, and visual poetry.
The Origins of an Unlikely Artistic Journey
What began as a solitary post online—a cross-sectional image of a damaged tantalum capacitor—evolved into a full-fledged exploration of the aesthetic beauty embedded in the inner lives of circuits and chips. The photo, shared by Schlaepfer, triggered waves of fascination within online tech communities. That single moment of curiosity became the seed of Open Circuits, which now contains over 130 meticulously captured images of electronic components, each laid bare and documented in vivid detail.
From smartphone circuit boards to Ethernet plugs and from guitar jacks to logic gates, each component was dissected, prepared, and photographed with the precision of a laboratory experiment and the soul of an artist. Together, Schlaepfer and Oskay uncovered a visual lexicon of copper traces, silicon wafers, micro-welds, and ceramic stacks—often invisible to the naked eye, but astonishing when revealed in high-resolution cross-sections.
Dissecting Technology: A Precise, Painstaking Process
When we imagine photography, we think of light, timing, and lenses. But in Open Circuits, photography was only part of the equation. Before any images could be captured, each electronic component had to be physically transformed—sliced, sanded, and sometimes delicately deconstructed—to expose its inner anatomy. The process was as much engineering as it was art, requiring patience, technical mastery, and an eye for detail. Each image began not with a shutter click, but with blades, abrasives, and surgical precision.
The book's creators, Eric Schlaepfer and Windell Oskay, committed themselves to exploring the concealed complexity of electronics by revealing what lies beneath their exteriors. This process was far from straightforward. Every component posed a unique challenge, not only in terms of disassembly but in ensuring its structural integrity remained intact enough to capture in full detail. In a world of rapidly manufactured gadgets, this was a return to craftsmanship—slow, deliberate, and intimate.
From Curiosity to Cross-Section: The Making of a Visual Investigation
The project was born from a single post: Schlaepfer had shared a cross-sectional image of a damaged tantalum capacitor online. What followed was an outpouring of interest from engineers, tech hobbyists, and photographers alike. But turning one captivating photo into a book of over 130 detailed images was an entirely different feat. Every photo required not only creativity but experimentation, research, and extensive trial and error.
The journey from complete component to photographic masterpiece began with the decision of how to cut. Conventional tools would simply destroy these miniaturized systems. Instead, the duo employed precision slow-speed saws, often used in material science labs. These specialized tools allowed for clean, even slicing of dense or fragile materials, such as glass, ceramic, plastic, and layered metal. Once cut, components needed to be sanded meticulously—sometimes for hours—to achieve a perfectly smooth, flat surface for imaging. Even the slightest unevenness could blur critical structures or obscure tiny internal features.
The Cathode Ray Tube: A Daunting Challenge in Fragility
Among all the subjects in Open Circuits, none tested their resolve quite like the cathode ray tube. CRTs, now relics of pre-digital television and computing, are made from thick glass, complex internal geometries, and contain sealed vacuum chambers. Opening one is inherently dangerous due to stored vacuum pressure, brittleness, and the fragile electron gun embedded within.
Windell Oskay proposed an unconventional solution: use a diamond-coated, slow-speed wafering saw—usually reserved for geological and metallurgical samples. This machine would provide the control and safety needed to cut into the CRT without shattering it. Once the shell was breached, Schlaepfer painstakingly wet-sanded the glass to a transparent finish. The internal electron gun, with its delicately nested electrodes and aligned filaments, slowly came into view.
The final image reveals a surreal, almost alien landscape: glass arches, copper helixes, and metallic fins delicately aligned with mathematical precision. The CRT’s internal architecture, previously hidden and obsolete, was rendered as a ghostly relic of analog engineering. Its form was both scientifically sophisticated and visually sublime.
The Hidden Art of Capacitors and Ceramic Structures
Another highlight of the dissection process came with the multi-layer ceramic capacitor—a ubiquitous component in modern electronics that, from the outside, resembles a simple chip. Yet on the inside, it is a marvel of materials science. Composed of dozens or even hundreds of alternating metal and ceramic layers, it relies on precise stacking to store and discharge electrical energy efficiently.
Exposing these internal layers without damaging them proved daunting. Traditional cutting methods often cracked the ceramic or smeared the metal electrodes. The team refined their process using a combination of low-force cutting and ultra-fine wet-sanding to gradually remove surface material until the capacitor’s layered structure was exposed in sharp definition. Multiple attempts failed before they succeeded in producing an image that revealed the true intricacy of this component.
Seen through the lens, the capacitor’s structure resembled a miniature high-rise building—meticulously aligned layers, clean edges, and perfect geometric repetition. What was once overlooked as a simple “passive” component emerged as a prime example of engineering artistry hidden in plain sight.
Mastering the Microscopic: Challenges in Component Photography
Even after the component was carefully prepared, capturing it photographically introduced its own set of complexities. At high magnification, the camera’s depth of field becomes incredibly narrow—sometimes less than a fraction of a millimeter. To photograph the entire cross-section in sharp focus, Oskay and Schlaepfer used focus stacking: capturing many images at slightly different focal distances and digitally merging them.
This allowed them to present highly detailed images of microstructures with every layer crisp and visible. In the case of a 10-layer smartphone circuit board, for instance, focus stacking revealed complex copper traces, dielectric partitions, vias, and embedded components all layered like geological strata. Without this technique, only a sliver of the board would be in focus at any one time.
They also employed high dynamic range photography to balance exposure across different materials—metallic surfaces that reflect light, translucent plastics, or light-emitting components like LEDs. This enabled even brightness and clarity without overwhelming glare or washed-out regions, especially for elements with extreme contrast like fiber-optic tips or infrared sensors.
Unexpected Visual Marvels Inside Everyday Objects
Not every subject turned out as expected. Components that were anticipated to yield beautiful results sometimes disappointed. An RGB LED, for example, though functional and widely used, turned out to be visually dull on the inside. Its internal design prioritized performance over visual symmetry.
However, some components surprised even the authors. An unremarkable grey electronics module, when sliced open, revealed an isolation amplifier with stunning internal complexity—magnetically shielded windings, copper coils, and separated circuitry designed for signal integrity. This one-time utilitarian object was elevated to a visual centerpiece.
The rocker DIP switch, a common toggle mechanism in industrial equipment, turned out to contain an elegant assembly of mechanical parts: contact pads, cantilever springs, and a tiny seesaw-like lever, all engineered to respond to finger pressure. When exposed and lit just right, it presented an unexpected harmony of form and function.
The Science of Slicing: Tools, Materials, and Methodology
The tools and materials used to dissect these components were chosen with scientific rigor. Saws equipped with diamond-tipped blades were essential for cutting through hard or brittle materials like quartz crystals or epoxy-encased semiconductors. When working with flexible cables or delicate connectors, precision hand tools combined with gradual sanding allowed control without compromising detail.
Sanding itself was an art. It required a rotating set of sandpapers with progressively finer grits, each removing micro-layers of material until the desired plane was exposed. Wet-sanding with deionized water reduced static charge and minimized the risk of dust contamination—important for photographing electrically charged elements or magnetic components.
Controlling ambient light, camera angle, and focal distance was just as critical. Oskay would sometimes spend hours adjusting the lighting geometry using diffusers, reflectors, and cold LEDs to avoid heat damage and get the shot just right. In some instances, custom-built rigs were used to hold components in exact alignment to the lens for consistent focus stacking.
A Tribute to the Hidden Craftsmanship of Electronics
The ultimate success of Open Circuits lies not just in its visual appeal, but in its capacity to reveal a layer of meaning and craftsmanship in electronics that most people never consider. From motherboards to MOSFETs, every object in the book demonstrates that modern electronics aren’t just products—they are meticulously engineered artifacts.
By peeling away exteriors and exposing internal structures, the authors have created more than just images. They’ve created a new genre of technological storytelling, where aesthetics and function are inextricably intertwined. This is not just visual documentation—it’s reverence. Each dissection serves as a tribute to the often-invisible minds behind these inventions: the engineers, designers, fabricators, and innovators who transform raw materials into the invisible backbone of modern life.
In dissecting these devices, Schlaepfer and Oskay have opened a door to a hidden dimension of technology. One that celebrates curiosity, precision, and the unexpected elegance buried inside the everyday. Through methodical dissection and meticulous presentation, Open Circuits challenges us to look closer, think deeper, and appreciate the extraordinary ingenuity embedded in the tools we use without a second thought.
The Challenges of Macro Photography at Microscopic Levels
The beauty of electronic components, once revealed through precision dissection, doesn’t speak for itself. It requires the eye and skill of a photographer to capture its intricacy in full clarity and context. In Open Circuits, the photographic work behind every image was just as crucial as the dissection that preceded it. Bringing these hidden architectures to life visually involved navigating a labyrinth of technical challenges unique to macro photography. Photographing electronics at this level requires a highly specialized approach—one that blends optics, lighting science, image processing, and endless experimentation.
Unlike conventional product photography, where the subject remains largely in focus with minimal effort, macro photography compresses the rules of imaging into microscopic space. At such tight ranges, the depth of field becomes extremely narrow—often limited to a sliver thinner than a strand of hair. Capturing a complete, detailed image of an exposed circuit board or semiconductor at these distances demands far more than pointing and shooting—it becomes an engineered feat of its own.
Focus Stacking: Constructing Clarity from Slivers of Sharpness
At the heart of the visual technique in Open Circuits is focus stacking, a process essential for producing images with consistent clarity across all planes. When using macro lenses at close range, only a very small portion of the subject can be in focus at one time. This poses a major problem when attempting to capture layered subjects like smartphone PCBs, ceramic capacitors, or compound sensors, where every micron of detail matters.
To resolve this, Schlaepfer and Oskay took multiple images of the same subject at incremental focal depths. Each shot captured a narrow plane in focus, while the rest of the image faded into blur. Specialized software was then used to align and merge these exposures into one unified photograph—where even the smallest elements, from copper traces to silicon etchings, are sharp from edge to edge.
This approach demands incredible discipline. The camera must remain absolutely stationary between shots. Even subtle vibrations or environmental shifts can misalign the stack. Often, hundreds of exposures were required for a single finished photo. Yet the outcome—images of staggering precision and clarity—justified the effort. The result is not just a clearer image, but an invitation to study each component as if through a magnified lens with infinite depth.
Lighting the Invisible: Sculpting Contrast and Illumination
Perhaps the most underestimated challenge in photographing microscopic electronics is lighting. Unlike portrait or landscape photography, where the subject interacts with natural or studio light in familiar ways, microelectronics present complex reflective and refractive behaviors. Copper surfaces glare, plastic diffuses unevenly, and transparent elements distort surrounding illumination.
For every component, a custom lighting approach was needed. The authors experimented with cold LED lights to avoid heat damage and used a mixture of diffused and directional sources to emphasize geometry without overexposure. Small reflectors and black flags were positioned around the components to manage highlights and eliminate flare.
In some cases, backlighting was introduced to illuminate translucent features such as photodiodes or fiber optic ends. In others, side lighting was preferred to enhance surface textures or solder joints. The angle and intensity of light had to be carefully balanced to avoid flattening intricate forms or introducing false shadows. Even minute adjustments—just a few degrees in direction or slight dimming—could transform an otherwise bland photograph into a mesmerizing study of form and function.
The Power of HDR: Balancing Brightness in High-Contrast Components
High Dynamic Range (HDR) photography, often used in landscape imaging to blend shadows and sunlight, became a crucial tool in rendering detail-rich photos of electronics. Many components in modern devices contain both extremely bright and very dark elements. LEDs, in particular, emit light that can overpower the image sensor, while adjacent plastic or silicon parts may absorb light, disappearing into shadow.
To address this, multiple exposures were captured at varying brightness levels and digitally merged. This preserved the full tonal spectrum of each component—highlighting the glow of light-emitting areas while maintaining the integrity of the darker regions. The result was not only technically accurate but visually dramatic. By combining exposure levels, internal reflections, subtle textures, and engraved patterns were revealed in components that previously seemed inert.
An especially successful example of HDR use appeared in the color sensor showcased on page 81 of Open Circuits. Without this technique, its intricate pattern of photosensitive cells and tiny lens arrays would have been obscured by glare and imbalance. With HDR, however, the sensor is portrayed in full radiance—each tiny feature crisp and vibrant, unmarred by extremes of exposure.
Overcoming Reflections, Distortion, and Static Interference
One of the unexpected adversaries in photographing disassembled electronics is reflection. Many internal parts—especially metallic traces, wires, and shielding—act as tiny mirrors. Capturing them without reflections of the camera, lighting gear, or surroundings was an exercise in precision and patience.
Polarizing filters helped reduce glare, but not every problem could be filtered out. Some surfaces needed to be angled slightly away from the lens, then realigned in software. Others were treated with diffused lighting or masked to reduce hotspots. In several instances, re-sanding a component was required to remove accumulated dust or microscopic scratches that affected how light scattered.
Photographing active components also introduced electrostatic complications. Even when powered off, residual static in semiconductors or capacitors could attract dust and distort light paths. Anti-static mats, wrist straps, and deionized air tools were used to neutralize charges. Every photo session became a mix of scientific discipline and creative improvisation.
Building a Macro Photography Studio for Engineering Marvels
Creating a setup capable of capturing these images required more than commercial photo gear. The duo constructed a macro photography rig tailored for their subject matter. A custom mounting system allowed for micron-level adjustments in camera position, rotation, and focal length. Vibration damping equipment prevented motion blur, even during long exposure sequences.
The camera itself was equipped with a macro lens capable of 1:1 magnification and extended with bellows to increase its focal flexibility. The depth of field, when working at this level of magnification, was measured in fractions of millimeters—making stability and precision non-negotiable. Each session required hours of preparation, and sometimes days of trial before a final image was approved.
They also experimented with microscope objectives adapted to cameras, allowing even higher resolution capture of the smallest surface-mount components. These lenses, originally intended for lab use, revealed astonishing features in components like quartz oscillators and laser diodes—details rarely seen outside a fabrication plant.
Transforming Electronics into Visual Storytelling
More than just a technical showcase, each image in Open Circuits was crafted to tell a story. The authors understood that their audience wasn’t only made up of engineers and tinkerers—it included curious minds from all walks of life. So they approached each photograph not as documentation, but as storytelling through light, color, and composition.
They chose backgrounds, framing, and visual balance to emphasize the internal logic of each device. The coil of a transformer might be centered like a fingerprint. The mesh of a USB connector could spiral into frame like a tunnel. Even a simple breadboard, when lit correctly, became a maze of order and connectivity. These weren’t product shots—they were visual narratives that invited the viewer to linger, learn, and appreciate.
In doing so, they elevated the book beyond technical documentation. It became a visual atlas of electronic anatomy. Every photo captured not just physical parts, but the intention behind their design. In these meticulously composed frames, silicon circuits became the veins and vessels of modern life—functional, yes, but also elegant and often astonishing.
Precision, Patience, and the Poetry of the Small
Ultimately, the photographic process behind Open Circuits is a testament to what happens when engineering meets artistry. Schlaepfer and Oskay didn’t just point cameras at circuit boards—they translated silent machines into visual experiences. Their work required discipline more often associated with lab science: calibration, environmental control, hours of repetition. But it also required the intangible qualities of great visual artists: timing, intuition, and a sense of aesthetic judgment that knows when to stop.
By tackling the microscopic challenges of macro photography—through focus stacking, HDR, refined lighting, and inventive rigging—they revealed not only what electronics look like inside, but why they deserve to be seen. The result is a book that doesn’t just showcase electronics—it redefines how we think about them.
What was once overlooked as functional or disposable is transformed into something contemplative and even poetic. Through this lens, microchips, connectors, and capacitors cease to be anonymous parts. They become monuments to human innovation, beautifully captured one microscopic layer at a time.
Revealing the Aesthetics of Functionality
In an era when electronic devices are celebrated for their performance and minimalism, Open Circuits invites us to look inward—to examine the aesthetics found not in glossy casings or touchscreen interfaces, but in the intricacies hidden beneath. This profound visual exploration transforms our understanding of electronics, unveiling them not just as utilitarian mechanisms but as crafted, almost organic structures born from years of engineering evolution. The result is a reevaluation of how beauty and function coexist in the world of modern technology.
Eric Schlaepfer and Windell Oskay guide us into this hidden landscape, stripping away the enclosures of smartphones, amplifiers, and switches to expose their internal complexity. What lies beneath is not chaos, but a surprisingly elegant orchestration of form and purpose. Components we once regarded as mere tools begin to reflect a deeper harmony—one that mirrors nature itself in its pattern, rhythm, and balance.
The Beauty Beneath the Surface: Redefining Perceptions
When we think about electronics, most of us imagine closed boxes, sealed circuit boards, and modular parts that simply “work.” We marvel at what they do, rarely at how they do it. Open Circuits challenges that instinct by laying bare the interior worlds of common devices, illuminating not just their technical sophistication but their visual design—often accidental, sometimes intentional, and always captivating.
The project doesn’t just reframe electronics visually; it reframes them philosophically. Function and form are often treated as separate domains, especially in engineering. Yet, as each component is cross-sectioned, photographed, and examined, an unmistakable truth emerges: many of the most reliable, efficient components are also beautifully structured. Their internal geometries echo the architectural grace of natural formations. Copper windings resemble tree rings, chip substrates mirror crystalline growth, and embedded traces form networks as intricate as neurons.
This visual dialogue between engineering and nature is not metaphorical—it’s material. Engineers, over decades, have refined the structure of electronic components to optimize performance, and in doing so, they've unwittingly created objects that possess visual resonance with living systems and geological marvels.
The Isolation Amplifier: Complexity in Concealment
Among the most surprising revelations in Open Circuits is the isolation amplifier—a device that, at a glance, appears utterly unremarkable. Encased in plain gray housing, it’s a component rarely examined by consumers or even technicians. But once dissected, it reveals an internal architecture so rich and complex that it rivals precision instruments.
Inside, tightly wound copper coils form concentric spirals, their symmetry exact, their function critical. Shielding layers are meticulously stacked, isolating signals while minimizing interference. Each layer has a purpose: thermal management, electromagnetic resistance, or signal fidelity. Yet the final form is more than efficient—it’s mesmerizing.
This amplifier doesn’t just amplify signals; it represents a symphony of miniaturized engineering—every element calculated, compacted, and optimized. When photographed in cross-section, it becomes a work of abstract art, not dissimilar from the mandalas of sacred geometry or the whorled patterns of a nautilus shell. It’s a clear example of how practical engineering gives birth to unintended aesthetic elegance.
The Rocker DIP Switch: Simplicity Meets Mechanical Harmony
Another component that embodies the hidden elegance of electronics is the rocker DIP switch. These tiny toggles are common in circuit testing, firmware selection, and industrial interfaces. Outwardly, they appear to be modest plastic levers. Yet, when opened and photographed with precision, their inner mechanisms reveal an unexpectedly graceful interplay of levers, springs, and pivot points.
Each motion inside the switch is mechanically orchestrated, designed to deliver reliable contact with every press. The internal structure balances tension and release, conductivity and insulation. The result is not just a mechanism, but a mechanical ballet happening at millimeter scale. Metal springs arc gently between anchor points, sliding surfaces gleam under magnification, and each switch assembly is a composition of practical beauty.
In Open Circuits, this rocker switch stands as a metaphor for so many unnoticed devices in our daily lives. Designed for function, optimized for durability, and overlooked in appearance—until now. In the hands of Schlaepfer and Oskay, it becomes an icon of quiet sophistication.
Natural Analogues in Engineered Systems
One of the most striking insights from Open Circuits is how often human-designed components mirror the systems found in nature. Take, for instance, the multilayer circuit boards with copper traces weaving through fiberglass like veins in a leaf. Or the way thermal paste, when frozen in cross-section, forms patterns eerily similar to coral growth or lava flow.
This resemblance is not entirely coincidental. As with biological systems, the evolution of electronics has followed principles of efficiency, balance, and spatial economy. Just as a tree distributes nutrients via branching limbs and capillaries, a circuit board distributes current via layered paths and vias. The need to minimize resistance, prevent interference, and manage heat gives rise to forms that are functional—and incidentally beautiful.
From the micro scale of surface-mount capacitors to the macro scale of power transformers, there’s a natural elegance in their structure. The viewer, once accustomed to seeing only smooth exteriors, begins to perceive a new language—one in which engineering becomes a cousin of biology, and hardware reflects the same forces that shape ecosystems and minerals.
Unexpected Masterpieces in Everyday Tech
Not every component in Open Circuits dazzles at first glance, but that’s part of its charm. The book reveals how visual potential can be hidden in the most mundane objects. A headphone jack, split and photographed, displays a concentric layering of contacts, insulation, and conductive sleeves—beautiful in its radial symmetry. A ribbon cable, cross-sectioned with surgical accuracy, becomes a minimalist composition of color and form.
Each photograph asks the viewer to reconsider assumptions. Technology is not just cold logic and printed numbers—it’s an environment of design decisions, each with visual implications. Even failed or obsolete parts have stories to tell. A cracked chip may reveal inner structures like shattered geodes. A burnt resistor may leave behind copper trails with the appearance of fossilized tree branches.
This shift in perspective—seeing electronics as more than tools—opens up new appreciation not only for what these devices do but for how they are crafted. It bridges the gap between user and maker, consumer and creator.
Reframing Engineering as Artful Expression
One of the most profound impacts of Open Circuits is its quiet insistence that engineering and art are not separate disciplines. The meticulous arrangement of components inside a power converter is no less intentional than the brushstrokes of a painting. Each curve, layer, and solder joint is the result of decisions made by human minds balancing constraints, needs, and performance.
Through high-resolution cross-sectional photography, these decisions are rendered visible. We begin to see logic gates not just as abstract functions but as visual layouts. We appreciate the consistency of coil windings, the spacing between IC pins, and the harmony between analog and digital sections. It’s not just about efficiency—it’s about coherence, both in signal flow and physical form.
In this light, an engineer becomes an artist of utility. A designer of invisible experiences. Their medium is silicon and copper, their canvas a circuit board. The book reframes this work not as invisible labor, but as a creative act worthy of admiration and attention.
A New Vision of Technological Beauty
Ultimately, Open Circuits serves as both an exploration and a manifesto. It invites us to adopt a new way of seeing—not just the devices around us, but the thought, precision, and artistry embedded within them. Electronics are no longer inscrutable black boxes. They are vessels of intention, complexity, and design.
By revealing the aesthetics of functionality, Schlaepfer and Oskay restore humanity to the machine. They remind us that even in an increasingly digital world, there remains a physical reality—crafted by human hands, guided by logic, and suffused with unintended beauty. It’s a celebration not of obsolescence, but of enduring ingenuity.
Whether you're an engineer, artist, educator, or simply a curious observer, Open Circuits expands your understanding of what electronics are—and what they can be. Through its lens, even the most unassuming component becomes a window into the elegant structure of modern life.
Trial, Error, and the Beauty of Serendipity
Not every component delivered its magic immediately. The RGB LED, for example, which the authors assumed would be a visual stunner, turned out to be relatively underwhelming inside. Its construction, optimized for light output rather than internal aesthetics, did not yield the kind of layered detail or structural drama that other components offered.
On the other hand, some components surpassed expectations. HDMI cables, when cross-sectioned, revealed twisted pair arrangements and shielding patterns reminiscent of abstract sculpture. The density and elegance of a smartphone’s ten-layer PCB (printed circuit board), featured on the book’s cover, became an emblem of the modern age’s engineering acumen.
Each subject required not only technical skill but creative experimentation. Lighting positions, cutting angles, and post-processing choices were revisited multiple times for some subjects. Often, beauty emerged not in the first try, but through repeated exploration and refining of technique.
From Engineering Blueprint to Visual Masterpiece
What sets Open Circuits apart from traditional electronics references or teardown guides is its devotion to the aesthetic dimension of engineering. This is not a service manual or a technical spec sheet—it is a love letter to the elegance of utility, to the unsung visual language of our digital age.
By peeling back the layers of electronics, the book underscores a profound truth: design and function are often inseparable. The very structures that make a component work—whether it's an integrated circuit or a magnetic sensor—also possess inherent beauty. They embody symmetry, pattern, rhythm, and contrast. These are the same principles that underlie fine art, architecture, and music.
The authors’ unique combination of engineering knowledge and artistic sensibility has transformed passive observation into active revelation. Where others might see a broken gadget, Schlaepfer and Oskay see an opportunity to uncover and celebrate hidden brilliance.
A Must-Have for Tinkerers, Technophiles, and the Inquisitive Mind
Whether you’re an electrical engineer, an industrial designer, a student, or simply someone who loves to understand how things work, Open Circuits offers a unique perspective. The book is not only educational, offering an informal visual taxonomy of components, but also inspirational. It challenges us to reconsider the everyday devices we rely on—from phones and tablets to gaming consoles and audio gear—not just as tools, but as repositories of human ingenuity.
It’s particularly relevant in an era of growing electronic complexity and shrinking component sizes. As modern gadgets become more opaque and difficult to repair, this book serves as both documentation and homage to a generation of technologies that shaped our lives and continue to evolve.
Capturing the Invisible: A New Way of Seeing Technology
At its heart, Open Circuits is an invitation to slow down and look closer. In a culture obsessed with speed and surface gloss, the book gently reminds us that real beauty often lies beneath the surface—awaiting those who are patient enough to seek it out.
Through deliberate disassembly and photographic reconstruction, Schlaepfer and Oskay have created more than a book—they’ve crafted an entirely new genre of visual storytelling. One that bridges art and science, function and form, curiosity and craftsmanship.
Final Thoughts:
In a time when most electronic devices are designed to be closed, seamless, and unapproachable, Open Circuits takes a bold and refreshing detour. It opens the sealed doors of modern technology, not with the intent to dismantle, but to reveal. This book offers not just a rare visual access point into the internal structure of electronics—it invites us to reimagine these familiar components as objects of fascination, elegance, and, unexpectedly, beauty.
Eric Schlaepfer and Windell Oskay have done far more than simply slice open gadgets; they have initiated a new conversation about how we perceive the devices around us. Their work challenges us to look deeper—beyond functionality, beyond design trends—and to appreciate the hidden craftsmanship that shapes our digital world. Each image, layered with scientific accuracy and artistic intentionality, acts as both documentation and discovery.
The act of exposing these internal structures is almost poetic. In their raw, unfinished forms, electronic components become metaphors for deeper human curiosities: the desire to understand, the courage to deconstruct, the joy of seeing something familiar in an entirely new light. The book reminds us that beauty doesn't always demand embellishment; sometimes, it’s already built into the logic of the material world.
Open Circuits also speaks to the value of interdisciplinary curiosity—how engineering, art, and photography can converge to create something truly original. It stands as a quiet rebellion against disposability and digital opacity, offering a tactile, tangible, and visual alternative to the way we normally interact with electronics.
Whether you're a curious student, a seasoned engineer, a tech historian, or simply someone who enjoys marveling at hidden patterns, this book has something lasting to offer. It doesn't just show us what's inside our devices—it rekindles wonder. In an age of instant gratification and rapid consumption, Open Circuits provides a moment of pause, a chance to slow down and really see the extraordinary within the ordinary.
Ultimately, this book isn't just about circuits—it's about the beauty of looking closer.
