I meet Edward Saperia for lunch at Canteen in London’s Royal Festival Hall. He owns a fledgling startup and complains about having to stay up late to speak to one of his Transatlantic employees – a writer in Washington. Then he shows me images of one of his countless ventures — a whimsical and beautifully designed pool table called”Home Turf.”
As an uber-creative aesthete who spent his immediate years post-Cambridge as an investment banker, before switching gears a few months ago to start his own company, he transgresses the boundary between the arts and the business world. But most importantly, he’s a disarmingly brilliant conversationalist with a keen interest in the world around him.
Hence, Edward is the embodiment of the enviably cool, urban guy who wears a Mutewatch. He possesses an ideological humility, capable of comprehending and filtering a multiplicity of disciplines. We spend a lot of our lunch discussing hypercontemporary solutions to problems like cleaning the kitchen (Edward: ”There should be some invention where you toss your plates into the kitchen and make them clean and go in the shelves by themselves” and “Bad teachers aren’t going to exist in a decade, everything will be taught by computers”).
It’s young men like Edward who galvanise people into action and who make you believe in the transcendant capabilites of the human mind.