It is with great sadness that G4G notes the death of Adam Atkinson
(July 24, 1966—December 8, 2024).
We are collecting here some recollections from various members of the G4G community. If you have any anecdotes, memories, or tributes that you would like to share, please email us at support@g4gfoundation.org.
“Of course you already know this!?” and what followed would always be a small tidbit of exquisitely random recondit trivia, or arcane knowledge to be explored that would have you standing on top of a desk whirling a chain trying to make as many inflection points on a twirling wave; clicking a sword up and down on a disc wondering why it was obviously slicing through a metal rod that was kept in tact; or, be playing chinese chess or some other game which certainly wasn’t common knowledge.
My first memory of Adam was him walking into the room at MathsJam 2 in 2011. He might have had a wide hat and dark suit. For sure his purple scarf and bowtie stuck out, the colours of royalty giving him a bit of a mystique as sort of wizard, which he certainly was for some definition of the word.
Over the years I got lucky to become friends with him. I recall many conversations with him and almost every talk he gave at the triple of regular meetings we crossed paths at least once a year. While the sheer amount of information and speed at which it was delivered often overwhelmed my language abilities he always was patient to go through the things a second time. The samaritani formula, odd pricing, the a* algorithm, etc. His love for diversity in the things that interested him struck true and I hope some of it rubbed on to me such include the curiosity for strange food (like flying saucers, marmite, or lupin beans), the enjoyment of hopophonetical poetry (think of the master piece of Mots d’Heures: Gousses, Rames), questioning the trans cultural and linguistic differences in approaching certain topics (“Italian sources claiming that the empty set is an improper subset of all other sets”; “the use of mixed numbers” in various countries; or “the rule of three ratio”), or many other bemusing thoughts (such as thinking about words that are both nouns and verbs, i.e. fly and fly).
It is hard not to remember him on occasion for the wildest reasons, if only because you see someone in “heavy boots”. His parting fills me with grief. Having had the chance to have been shown so many morsels of highbrow treats with joy. He will be dearly missed.
– Tiago Hirth
Adam was one of the first people I met in Portugal at the Recreational Math Colloquium in my first few months working for G4G. I felt real imposter syndrome, not coming from the math world, and Adam’s friendliness and humor made me feel more comfortable. I loved the accessibility of his talks and always looked forward to them, as well as seeing what novelty he was toting around the conference this time. He will be dearly missed.– Katie LaSeur
I am so sad at Adam’s passing. I am, however, glad that he was able to make it to his last MathsJam — something he was determined to do despite the health challenges he faced. That was the last time I saw him, and he gave us yet another lovely, thought-provoking talk. As always, his dry, fantastic wit had us all laughing, and I was fortunate to share more long, meaningful conversations with him.
Over the many years I knew him, Adam introduced me to many intriguing concepts and ideas, most of which still make me chuckle whenever I think of them. Sharing these with others has been a delight, and I will continue to do so in his memory.
He had a deep curiosity about the world, an instinct for what was interesting, playful, and unusual, and a remarkable ability to make others think in new ways. Yet he always shared his thoughts with modesty — not for self-reflection, but because they enriched those around him.
Adam was truly special. I will miss him dearly and will always remember the twinkle in his eye and the warmth of his chuckle.
– Jonathan Histed
Adam’s passing is very sad news. A loss to many, in many ways, and next year’s Big MathsJam will have a noticeable hole in it. His were some of the most memorable talks of every year that I’ve attended. Inventive, unique, always expertly delivered. An absolute master of communicating maths through storytelling. My condolences to all his friends and family. I hope they all have the support they need, and that evidence of the breadth of Adam’s impact on his world might provide some small comfort.
– Tom Briggs
I will miss Adam.
I will miss his evident delight in sharing puzzles, I will miss his apparently unending repertoire of anecdotes and adventures, and I will miss the mischief in his eyes as he planned another Evening For The Increase Of International Misunderstanding, which always brought participants closer, if only in their confusion.
I will miss the open generosity with which he shared ideas and brain-twisting toys (where did he find them – I’ve never seen most of them in anyone else’s hands?), and I will miss his splendid MathsJam talks which always provoked pause for thought and gales of laughter in equal measure.
I will miss the sense of careering along a high, narrow road, wondering what the next corner will bring in the next talk, and the certainty that some of his wit is sailing straight over my head.
Rest in Peace, Adam Aktinson, mathematician, puzzler, mathsjammer, friend.
– Rachel M Wright
A friend of mine passed recently. One that had a massive effect on my life and in some sense is the reason that I do what I do
today. In a point in my life where I felt lost and I had lost who I was and what I wanted to do, for one reason or another, a
man showed me a ball on a slope that struggled to roll down. He stood on stage and told us stories of the most ridiculous but totally believable things. Time travel comes to mind, so does DOCTIAL. This man had a way with words.
This man was kind, kinder than I could ever ask for. He sat me down and explained mathematics to me, chatted to me and showed and reignited the burning desire in my heart to do mathematics – the subject I truly love and desire to do. He inspired me to go back to maths and strive for Oxford – albeit this wasn’t alone but still he was a big part. He’d suggest little readings and other things for me to look at.
I will miss him dearly and the toys he showed me and the tricks he pulled, and the problems that he made me think about. Adam Atkinson was a great man and the world is a lot worse without him here.
Here’s some of Adams material – he is truly amazing: https://youtube.com/@ghira_impavida?si=XeVdAuudh2CHw1eu
I will never forget his kindness, his words and the effect he had on my life.
– James Arthur
I initially met Adam virtually. We were in the 90s, Usenet was the “social network” of the time, and among the newsgroups in Italian there was it.fan.dewdney. (Sidenote: there’s a long tradition in Italian chat groups, which even predates Usenet, in which a group devoted to recreational mathematics is called after A.K. Dewdney, who was the successor of Douglas Hofstadter in running the column in Scientific American on mathematical games). Adam was a regular contributor to the newsgroup: what was strange was that he wrote in a perfect Italian, even if he was British – ok, he was born in Australia, but he considered himself British, and the only sign of “Australitude” was his love for wombats. Only some years later I found out that he had been a lecturer of English at Rome’s “La Sapienza” university and worked for the iconic Italian encyclopaedia Treccani before returning to UK.
A couple of years later I happened to go to London for a work meeting: I arranged to stay a day more and met him in person. What did we do? Easy: we went to Camden Town, which at that time was starting to become a well-known place, but the reason was that there was a tiny shop full of maths and game items, where I bought a number of books which at that time were impossible to find in Italy – Amazon was just starting operations. He also gifted me with some science fiction paperbacks; he bought a ton of used books from some sites, just to give to his friends.
We met some other times in Italy: he frequently travelled here, going to Pisa for the University Open days and to Pavia for The Night of Researchers (ok, it happened in the afternoon, but never mind). I met also his wife Annamaria and let my twins know the “omino dei giochi” (“little gaming man”): he liked to play tricks, mathematical and not. I don’t know how many “magic rings” he gave out. My son Jacopo was mesmerized by his trick with the ring, which fell or was caught in the chain depending on whether he said or not a magic word.
I will miss his math crusades, like the one about mixed numbers (those like 3 ½). He was adamant in saying that we Italians use them, and showed us all kinds of examples he found, from shoe numbers to metro waiting time, while we countered that they were only to be taken as stand-out numbers, we don’t use them while doing arithmetics, and textbooks don’t mention them at all.. Another long-term crusade of his was against the “ritardisti”, people who believe that if a number was not drawn out for a while it has more chance to appear at the next draw. But his curiosity for everything maths-related was incredible. He was eager to talk about the latest thing he found and whether it was possible to use it in other contexts: maths was really a friend of his.
– Mau Maurizio