from Mark Elliott

Although I have not seen Jon for a very long time I am truly saddened to hear of his passing. I am taken back to 1996 or 1997 when Jon, and some others I see have posted here moved from Cambridge to Birkbeck. At that time I was in the throes of my PhD research in an office overlooking Torrington Square and the year or so that Jon spent at Birkbeck was characterized by a great deal of social and professional activity. The image of Jon I had then, and have kept ever since was of a quiet genius; a brilliant mind tempered with a warm sense of humour, and with the ability to inspire. I also remember he left one of our chin rests on the tube. although what he was doing with it on the tube in the first place remains a mystery. My condolences extend to his family at this sad time.

from Anjan Chatterjee

I first met Jon at Dartmouth when we were enrolled in what I think was the second of Gazzaniga's Cognitive Neuroscience bootcamps in 1991. We were both studying neglect. At the time, I was struck by his laser like focus at pursuing ideas. A couple of years later we met again at a small meeting in Oxford organized by John Marshall and Peter Halligan. This meeting gave me an opportunity to talk with Jon in more depth. Again, his intelligence and focus was so evident that his academic success came as no surprise. I have profited from his way of framing and addressing scientific problems. This is a great loss for cognitive neuroscience.

from Martha Farah

I first met Jon in the late 1980's when, like him, I was working in the field of visual cognition.  We were both visiting speakers at UCSD, with talks scheduled on consecutive days with titles that turned out to be something like "Evidence that 'object-centered' neglect is actually spatial" (my talk, on the first day) and "Evidence that neglect is object-centered" (his title, second day).  He arrived after my talk but I was at his and of course the audience was also there for both.

He was as brilliant back then as ever, while also exuding a certain youthful self-confidence, so everyone expected discord.  Instead he engaged with his intellect and not at all with his ego, and we had a fabulous rollicking discussion!  He had the ability to focus on the scientific question and think so incisively and creatively about it without personal negativity. It was that combination of intellectual brilliance and genuine love for the science that made him such a fount of inspiration to us all.

from Stephen Monsell

I first met Jon when he came to be interviewed in Cambridge for a possible PhD place at the MRC-APU (as it then was). Ol Braddick and I sat in on the interview for the university Experimental Psychology Department: we were trying to avoid interviewing the same applicants twice. Faced with this epitome of cool youth,  with dyed blond hair, an earring, the famous leather jacket and, one suspected, a recording contract in his pocket,  my APU colleagues began the interview quite confrontationally: What, they wanted to know, did he propose to contribute to psychological science?  The standard PhD applicant tells you, haltingly, what they have been doing for their undergraduate research project, and says they want to do more of it.  Jon calmly responded that he had a few ideas, and proceeded to sketch, in his quiet incisive way, about five distinct novel well-articulated lines of research, any one of which would have made a great PhD project. I will not say that our colleagues ended up on their knees in postures of supplication, but they were clearly very keen that he should come to the APU. As it turned out he chose to stay in Oxford for his PhD, with Alan Allport: the rest is history.

Eventually, of course, we succeeded in attracting Jon to Cambridge for a lectureship in Experimental Psychology. He was a great colleague, performing his teaching and admin duties with enthusiasm and sanity while continuing to build his remarkable research portfolio, and supervising the first of his PhD students. In the summer of 1998, he and I co-organised an Attention and Performances symposium  (the eighteenth, at Cumberland Lodge in Windsor Great Park, on Control of Cognitive Processes), attended also by his new baby  (who appears in the conference photo posted) and his parents, the latter to help look after the former while Jon and Nilli participated in the sessions. Co-writing with Jon the introductory chapter, in which we struggled to capture the current state of play in,  and desirable directions for research on, attentional and intentional control, whilst giving due mention and integrative spin to the 31 contributions  to the edited volume, was among my most agreeable co-authorships.

At a previous Attention and Performance, in Kyoto in 1994, I recall Jon walking with John Duncan around the lake on which the famous Golden Pavilion stands. So immersed were they in discussion of the mysteries of attention that after two circumnavigations they still had not  (they claimed) consciously seen the temple (hard to miss -- see photos of Jon in Kyoto) -- a tribute to the power of attentional selection, whose workings Jon's wonderful experiments and laser-beam intellect did so much to illuminate. 

What a loss – to his scientific community of course,  but how much more to his family.

from Uta and Chris Frith

We were devastated to learn of Jon's untimely death. He had been our colleague, collaborator and friend since he came to UCL in 1998. He was a lovely man, and a true cognitive psychologist. He retained the old fashioned virtues of a British experimentalist, meticulous design, data analysis and interpretation, but he also wholeheartedly embraced the new technologies of brain imaging and TMS. As a result he improved our work and indeed the work of all his collaborators and colleagues. He was also seriously playful and was equally pleased to talk about bass guitar styles as about attention. His death is a terrible loss to cognitive neuroscience, since, as he said himself in a recent interview, the best was yet to come.

from Andrew Roach

I cannot claim to have known Jon well, but we did go back a long way. He was in the year below me at school. We met again as graduate students at Oxford, when I volunteereed for an experiment he turned out to be running. I will always be grateful to him for organising the soul disco in the upstairs room at the 'Cape of Good Hope'. It really was heaven's disco; pounding 60s and 70s soul both classic and obscure, a dark and sweaty room full of dancers, and a good chance of meeting friends.  Anyone who has done a research degree knows what a lonely and miserable existence it can be. I remember Jon's event as the highlight of the week.

Jon was obviously a marvelous colleague and devoted husband and father. My thoughts are with all who were close to him.

from Su Watkins

I met Jon while studying for a PhD with Geraint and Nilli.  Jon was the director of the ICN and despite being very busy always seemed to have time to stop and have a chat. He seemed to enjoy talking to everyone about science regardless of how junior they were.  When discussing ideas with Jon I rarely needed to finish a sentence, Jon had already got the idea and usually thought of an experiment to investigate it before I had reached the end.  I was shocked and saddened to hear of his death.  He will be hugely missed. My sympathies to Nilli, their children and his friends and family.

from Paloma Mari-Beffa

My fondest memory of Jon is a very romantic one, although it happened “by accident”. In August 1996 I was a visiting PhD student in Nilli’s lab when I got involved with George Houghton (now my husband and father of our two sons), while he was a lecturer at UCL. Our relationship during those early days was secret to everyone except to a few strangers without name in Sevilla mia, Soho, where everything started. But to welcome me in a rather more respectable social context, George decided to invite Nilli, Jon and me over for dinner at his flat in Crouch End. We had a few drinks and snacks in the living room before George went to the kitchen to fetch some more food. I followed him promptly with the double intention of displaying good manners and helping myself to some private time with him. As this encounter in the kitchen was reaching its most private point, I opened my eyes to see Jon standing by the door and staring with amusing eyes. He politely retreated to the living room followed by us carrying the food and a sense of embarrassment. Jon and Nilli’s meaningful smiles declared the game over and the start of a lovely evening in the most pleasant atmosphere. They shared with us multiple anecdotes about their beginnings together and I got to see the most sweet and relaxed side of Jon. I remember him with his shoes off reclined on the red settee: His right arm warmly over Nilli’ shoulder, holding a beer with his left hand and smiling with beautiful eyes. It was indeed a great evening to remember; and this is how, accidentally, Jon became part of our own biography as the first person who "knew”. This is the image of Jon that I keep forever: relaxed, friendly and very close to Nilli.

from James Russell

Two kinds of memory of Jon - musical and familial.  During Jon's time in the Cambridge department Jon and I would occasionally meet up in the evenings to play songs, with 'play' loosely meant in my case.  I would caterwaul and strum some '60s pop while Jon brilliant bass would make it sound like music.  He had a wonderful musical ear: just a snatch of some obscurity by, say, Major Lance or Jay and the Americans and he had the chords down and was teaching me them. 

Second, as her father, I am convinced that Charlotte would have had a distinguished career in visual neuroscience no matter what.  But Jon's faith in her abilities and his natural kindness put her on the fast track.

from Arni Kristjansson

On January 28^th this year I found a message containing Jon's typical expressive and direct prose in my inbox. The message said that he had been in a nasty motorbike crash the night before and that he was in hospital with a smashed knee. Jon also said: 

“It looks like i might be here for several weeks undergoing surgery, so if not too late you might want to postpone your trip. Jon”

I received this email, on the eve of a trip to London where the intention was to spend some time at Queen Square planning new experiments on our now ten year old scientific collaboration. We had also laid down plans to go to the Emirates to watch Arsenal vs. Barcelona and we had plans to go to some concerts. I didn´t realize how fateful this accident would be. The word “postpone” in Jon’s message is particularly tough to read, since many of our best-laid plans will now never come to fruition.

Our scientific community has now lost one of it’s most brilliant scientists but I have also lost a good friend and mentor.

There is a lot to be said on Jon’s illustrious scientific career, but Jon and I connected well on a personal level as well as on the scientific one. How our tastes in music matched was uncanny, we could compare notes on obscure 80’s indie bands no-one else had heard of, and on our mutual interest; R&B/soul-music from the 60’s. Our conversations on football took precious time away from our science – it was time well spent. Fly-fishing trips were always on the agenda. To be honest, I think we had an even better connection on the personal level than the scientific one, despite our eight co-publications (and counting).

We shared a similar sense of humor, with a mutual preference for the most morbid irony. But after exchanging anecdotes and jokes on amutual colleague Jon would finish by listing that person’s qualities. Jon always had a good word for everyone.  

A particularly fond memory for me is when Jon visited me in Iceland in the fall of 2010 with his two sons, Shoni and Neil. We had an excellent time going volcano hunting around Eyjafjallajökull, the Vestman-Islands – Pompei of the North, the Blue Lagoon, and the "Geysir" geothermal area. During the drive we designed three experiments, but nevertheless spent most of the time discussing music, football, the scenery, and trading jokes with his boys in the backseat. An excellent couple of days – all the more valuable to me now. My heart now goes out to the two boys, and Nilli, their mother. 

The sadness of the word “postpone” jumps to mind again. Our planned fly-fishing trips in Iceland; jam sessions; football matches and other good stuff will now not happen. 

I will cherish the memories of our friendship. I will never be able to listen to Teenage Fanclub, The Coral, Dexys Midnight Runners nor records from the Stax and Motown back-catalogues without thinking of him. That is only fitting and is as-it-should-be. I will be happy for the memories, and for every opportunity to remember him by.

from Steve Nicklas

He was just the sweetest person ever! Love and prayers. 

from Steve Fleming

My enduring memory of Jon was as a first-year PhD student. Having just started at the FIL, I joined the departmental retreat in the hills above Zurich. On our arrival, Jon suggested that a few of us take a walk to the lookout above the hotel. I was unsure whether it was appropriate to join - I had never met Jon before and I felt nervous about being in the presence of someone who's work I had studied as an undergrad! But as we walked he made a point to include me in the conversation, and grilled me about my plans for my first experiment. At the time I was obsessed with the question of whether altering the rewards available for particular perceptual decisions changes perception (phenomenology) or just biases our responses towards the more rewarding option. My idea was to use fMRI to answer this question - if rewards change activity in visual cortex, then we could claim an effect on perception. Jon took the time to point out to me all the potential flaws in this logic and my experimental design, at a speed I found difficult to assimilate. But back at the hotel, feeling slightly deflated and assuming our conversation was over, he made a beeline for me at lunch to say - "just to be clear, I think you should definitely do the experiment. Just make sure you do it correctly!". It was exactly the combination of critique and motivation that I needed.

During my PhD Jon continued to take an interest in my progress, offering to read drafts of papers and asking about the progress of postdoc applications. This was all despite him having no formal supervisory role, and at a time when his heavy workload included the directorship of the ICN. He was truly generous in his advice and support to the younger generation and will be dearly missed.

from Sara Hall

It is with great sadness that I learned of Jon's untimely death. I first met Jon when we were both undergraduates at the Queen's College Oxford exactly 30 years ago. He was very handsome and charming and we all fell for him, each in our own way. Definitely one of the "in crowd" in a very special way. None of us knew of the bright futures ahead of us then but Jon certainly had the spark of someone special.  I am happy to read on this site how much happiness and inspiration he has brought to the lives of others privileged enough to have known him too. 

from Luis J Fuentes

Jon was a brilliant young scientist that impacted everyone had the chance of meeting him or reading his stunning scientific contribution. In my office, just in from of me, there is a picture showing all participants in the Attention and Performance Symposium XVIII held at Cumberland Lodge in July 1998. Just in the first row Jon and Nilli are sat happily holding their little baby. I cannot believe that guy is not with us anymore, hard to believe and hard to assume. My deepest condolences for his friends and colleagues. But above all for Nilli and her kids, God how to comfort these people…

from Alan Allport

Conversations with Jon - about science or practically anything - were some of the best, the liveliest, the most enriching I have had in all my long life. He was so sharp, so zestfully open-minded, so serious - and yet so playful. It didn’t matter where you happened to be. I remember a fantastic discussion we had on the little Sicilian island of Marettimo, after an A&P meeting, looking down from the mountaintop above the tiny harbour and talking all day about a fantastic variety of things (including even a bit of cognitive psychology). Other, equally warm, zestful conversations happened in the gloomy blacked-out basement of the physiology department in Parma. Wherever you were, he was an absolute delight to be with.

As an undergraduate it was obvious already he was a superstar. But instead of going on immediately to do a PhD, Jon opted instead to spend a year as a research assistant (with Peter McLeod and me), to give himself time to figure out what line of research he really wanted to pursue. This deep humility and thoughtfulness, and deep commitment to ‘getting it right’, and getting to the truth, were the hallmark of everything Jon did. After that year, once launched on a PhD he completed it at lightning speed and with the absolute minimum of supervision from me (just lots of those hugely enjoyable, wide-ranging conversations!). And of course, from then on I just watched him fly.

Now, though I have long since left cognitive psychology and – to my regret - have not been in contact with him recently, his loss feels truly dreadful. But his impact on the whole field of cognitive neuroscience, as well as his vivid presence in the hearts of everyone who knew him, will long live on. 

from Andy Wills

I remember Jon as a young, brilliant, lecturer in Cambridge at the time I was doing my Ph.D. there. His speed of thought and breadth and depth of knowledge were astonishing and left a very deep impression on me. In particular, I remember one chance encounter – 1996 or thereabouts - in the departmental library that ended up with us discussing the various conceptions of perceptual learning in psychophysics versus animal learning. His death is unspeakably sad.

from Charlotte Russell

Very few people genuinely change your life but meeting Jon changed mine. I went for an interview for a summer RA job with him in Cambridge just after I'd finished my finals. As I waited I wondered what this Jon Driver would look like. It took me a (long enough to be embarrassing) moment to realise that the very young man, smiling a funny half smile, who had just come up to me was him.  I didn’t carry on with my plans as they were at that time but worked with him and then came back when he went to London to be his RA and do a Ph.D. He was, as everyone says, extremely clever but not intimidating and never pompous. His company was exciting: sometimes awkward and inspirational in turns.

When I saw him in October his face became so animated when he realised that my son was with me. He said that he was pleased to finally meet him and tried to get a smile out of him - a grumpy, just woken, toddler.

Jon was important to me and it is hard to believe that I won’t meet up with him again. All my thoughts and love are with Nilli, their sons and his family.

from Roger Keys

I knew Jon through fishing and football. In the former he was most proficient,the latter well he supported the Arsenal. We would often share banter about football but as my team is West Ham I had to grin and bear his teasing. He always gave that little smile when I told him "we were the last team to win at Highbury and the first at the Emirates"   It was only recently we were discussing how we would catch Tench from Senior's Lake in the summer, sadly that will not happen now. Wherever you may now be angling, Tight Lines and Best Fishes Jon, from all at the Redspinner Angling Society

from Elaine Fox

I first met Jon in the early 1990s when I had just moved to the UK and he moved to Cambridge. We had been emailing for a couple of years about selective attention, perceptual grouping and negative priming. He invited me to visit Cambridge and I hopped on a train expecting to meet a distinguished Cambridge Don who, given his already stunning body of work, was bound to be far older than me! Instead, I was confronted by the handsome, young, Jon ultra cool in his T-shirt and leather jacket. Within about 5 minutes he had resolved the problem with a complex pattern of results I had been struggling with for months – really!

Like many, I was blown away by the sheer brilliance and speed of Jon’s mind, made even more salient by just what a nice guy he was. Knowing Jon was a genuine privilege and a wonderful lesson in humility. I met him a couple of months ago quite by accident when walking down a London street. We chatted for a few minutes and he was delighted with his Royal Society Professorship that allowed him the freedom to focus on research and he told me he was beginning to re-visit many of the theoretical issues that had engaged him all those years ago in Cambridge. We will never know what breakthroughs he would have made. Jon was a wonderful inspiration to me, always happy to give advice, and unbelievably generous with his time. I am truly devastated and my thoughts are with my friend and colleague, Nilli, and their two boys whom he loved so much

from Galit Yovel

I was a second year undergraduate student in Shua Tsal’s Attention and Perception course when I first heard about Jon’s work on object-based attention. It was then when I decided to become a vision scientist. These papers were, and still are, so brilliant and inspiring.

from Fabrizio Leo

I had the pleasure and the honour to work with Jon very recently and we were still in touch via email until few weeks ago. I have a lot of memories and thoughts I will keep with me forever. I still have a vivid memory of our first one-to-one meeting. I was really impressed by how young he was considering his enormous scientific production. I felt rather intimidated but he has been really friendly and we even had some coffee in a local cafe. Afterward, I had the chance to admire his deep knowledge of cognitive neuroscience, his stunning ability to analyze and create new experimental designs (which was able to do so quickly!) and his talent for writing. His untimely death is a shock to me and an incalculable loss for science, his family and everyone who had a chance to know him personally.  

from Jane Raymond

I have two favourite memories of Jon. One is from 20 years ago when Jon was not yet 30.  Kim and I were in Cambridge on sabbatical and Jon came to stay in our house for several weeks when he first moved to Cambridge to take up his first lecturer post at the Department there. It was great fun having him around and during that time he got to know our kids who were only small. Our son was just two and Jon was enchanted by him. There was Jon, the handsome, dashing bachelor, in his leather jacket and ultimate cool, suddenly realising that having a family might be a really great thing. One day in the kitchen, he looked down at our little blue eye toddler and said, with look of complete surprise, "I think I want one of those". And so, his wish came true, twice, and we were so happy for him and Nilli. My second memory is more recent, July 2010 in France at A&P. Sitting outside in the sun, beer in hand, talking about families and the goodness of life (and of course a little science, too). He was a really, really good person and we are so sad for the whole family.

from Pia Rotshtein

I was an undergraduate student when I first heard about John’s work. John was an icon then. So, the meeting with the real man behind the Driver and Baylis paradigm was exciting and humbling experience. John and Ray were both my PhD supervisors, and together they offered the perfect balance of intellectual stimulation, guidance and the freedom to explore. Working with John was very rewarding and inspiring. I learnt a lot from him both as a scientist and a person. John had a brilliant mind and was very quick to think on his feet, quite a challenge for a nervous PhD student... It became even harder when he expressed his original views in his renowned ‘Driverish’ style – rapping and mumbling under his breath.  John used to joke that he developed this style to make him look cleverer. Needless to say that was completely unnecessary; John’s bright thinking and sharp intellect didn’t need any gimmicks or ‘artificial additives’. He will be missed.   

from Anil Seth

I first met Jon in Cambridge in the early 1990s, when he was my tutor during my second-year undergraduate course in Experimental Psychology.   As callow 19 year-olds we were extraordinarily privileged to have the close attention, in groups of two or three, of leading researchers such as Jon.  Sessions with him, discussing attention and neglect, remain among my most vivid memories of the time. I think I even tried to discuss consciousness once, though I'm not sure it went too well.  Looking back, what was so remarkable was the care and consideration with which Jon engaged with our undoubtedly naive ideas.  Whatever we said and wrote, however ignorant, he took us seriously and gently guided us towards a deeper understanding.  He gave me the confidence to continue.  After Cambridge I saw Jon just a couple of times, at conferences, and each time was reminded just what a brilliant man he was.  His passing is a massive loss for neuroscience, but more so of course for his family and friends, whom my thoughts go out to.

from Gabriella Vigliocco

Jon has been a model for me: in his superb intellect, in his passion for research, in his dedication to the field. He has been a wonderful mentor: he was a mentor to me through two promotions, he mentored me when I became a very naive head of department and when I became a parent. For me, he was and will always be the soul of our division. I miss him dearly. My heart is with Nilli and their two boys.

from Jennifer Cook

Around this time last year I was panicking about an upcoming interview and emailed Jon to ask for interview advice. I was overwhelmed to receive a 7 paragraph email (sent at Midnight on a Thursday!) which comprised a step-by-step guide to the interview process: from first impressions through to what to do if you are ‘digging yourself into a hole’. I didn’t really know Jon and had never worked with him, he had nothing to gain from this, it was just a pure act of kindness - for which I am extremely grateful.  May he rest in peace.

from Neir Eshel

Jon advised my Master's thesis in 2007-08.  I have so many happy memories from his lab, but a couple stand out.  My first time meeting Jon, he served me tea and cookies and we chatted for over an hour. I remember leaving his office giddy and calling my parents--“This guy’s the director of the institute, and he served me cookies!” He treated me like I had something to contribute, and for that I’ll always be thankful. 

Fast-forward a year, and I’m sending Jon a draft of a paper to submit for publication. I pat myself on the back for a job well done.  Half an hour later, I get his revisions. They’re so covered with red marks that I can’t see where the margins end and the text begins. For a moment I’m disheartened, then I’m incredibly grateful. To Driverize a paper. Nothing else quite like it.

I feel privileged to have met Jon and to have been the beneficiary of his wisdom and his wit. I’ll miss him very much.

from Tim Griffiths

Jon was a brilliant scientist and effortless collaborator. In his administrative roles he was very much the human face of the organisation and also a source of valuable and selfless personal advice. But above all else he was great fun to talk to and one of the few neuroscientists to understand fishing. I will miss him.

from Paola Ricciardelli

Jon's death was terrible and very upsetting news. It came as a great shock to me.  I have found it difficult to put down in words my feelings, memories and thoughts.

I met him when he was still at Cambridge University.  I got his name from my undergraduate tutor (prof. Edoardo  Bisiach). I wrote  to Jon asking whether I could spend  six months in his lab as part of  my postgraduate training. I wanted to study in the UK  and I was fascinated  by neuropsychology. He welcomed me into his lab at Birkeck College in London, he was kind and supportive. I did not leave after six months; instead I had the great opportunity to do my PhD with him as a supervisor and I spent several years in his lab at ICN.  At ICN several other Italian people joined the lab (what I like to call "the Italian contingent") and Jon liked to joke about it.

I remembered very clearly that when I arrived he asked me what subject I was interested in studying and he explained to me his ongoing lines of research. I was struck by his gaze cueing study and since then  I have not stopped doing research on gaze.  He was very busy but his teaching was superb and his advice was always sharp and wise. Watching him writing papers and grants was just like watching magic. He had a natural gift for it and was a genius. I also remember a bass guitar amplifier which he kept in a corner of his office, but in particular, I remember  his favourite armchair which he had kept in his office for a long time.  He used to sit on it to discuss experimental results, or papers. I'm very proud to have had him as a

supervisor. Those years have defined not only my professional life but also my personal life. I owed Jon a lot: he was a sensitive person as well as a great scientist, I will never forget him. He loved his family a lot and my thoughts and my condolences now go to Nilli and his sons. Thank you, Jon.

from Roz McCarthy

I can still remember my first meeting with Jon at a King's College Spatial Representation Psychology-Philosophy Seminar in the early 90's.  He told me he was thinking of applying for a lectureship in the Department (where I was based) and was making an "informal" visit to see the lie of the land.  We discussed our mutual interests in Neuropsychology and Spatial cognition and I was really excited at the prospect of gaining a colleague who was also a  potential collaborator. Jon joined the Department . We subsequently exchanged lots of ideas, spent some enjoyable mornings working with  patients and then, all too soon, Jon was off to London. My memories of the short time we worked together are very fond ones tinged with much regret that circumstances intervened to cut the collaboration short. I sometimes wondered whether we would ever work together again but tragically, that is not to be.  

I would like to extend my condolences to Jon's family at this desperately sad time.

from Nick Chater

Jon Driver was a stunningly scientist, and probably the most brilliant experimentalist I have ever known. He had an incredibly sharp intuition for the key theoretical issues and the decisive experiments to address them; and the ability to construct experimental designs of rigour and, often, real beauty. His experimental work was relentlessly innovative on just about every dimension.  One had the sense that, rather than making marginal adjustments to existing paradigms, Jon was able to create just what was needed from first principles, albeit informed by a vast knowledge of prior work. His work will  stand as a paradigm example of what can be achieved, for anyone interested in the experimental study of the mind and brain. 

I did not know Jon well; but I always found talking with him about research incredibly stimulating and inspiring. He was modest about his remarkable achievements and generous in his assessment of others. He seemed entirely free of dogma; just genuinely open to finding out the truth by the most powerful available tools. Jon's approach to research was inspiring, playful, and devastatingly effective; a pleasure to watch, even from a distance. I regret very much that I did not have more chance to get to know him as a man, and to see his remarkable powers as a scientist. 

His work and influence will continue to shape our field for many decades; and I believe that he will be remembered, by present and future generations, as one of the most remarkable investigators into the mind and brain that Britain has ever produced. 

from Rich Ivry

I met Jon shortly after he arrived in the States to work with Mike Posner and Steve Keele as Oregon’s first McDonnell-Pew Scholar.  I was in my first year at UC Santa Barbara and Jon and Gordon Baylis came up from San Diego to visit my lab.  I don’t remember much of our conversation that day, nor of the dinner that evening.   But what does stand out is what happened after dinner.  Jon and Gordon looked a bit impish and asked if they might borrow the keys to my lab.   Seems that they had been kicking around an idea and wanted to go back to the lab and see if they could program something up (in our pre-laptop days).   Off they went, me regretfully, feeling obliged to stay at home with my wife and our young son.  

Jon and Gordon never made it back to the house.  They ended up working all night, playing with one display after another, and had the experiment sorted out by morning. Jon laid out the experimental plan when I came in the next day and, in a pattern to be repeated over the years, I struggled to follow, either because I couldn’t quite match the Mach 3 speed of his mind or make heads or tails of the mumbled British accent.   With patience, Jon made the elegance of the study clear.   If memory serves me right, the manuscript—with 8 experiments—was ready just a few months later (Perception & Psychophysics, 1992), with the patient variant for Nature close on its heels. 

Lesson learned then—always pay attention when Jon speaks.  The rewards have been great.

from Nathalie George

I met Jon during my post-doc at the FIL. In fact, it seemed that he just stepped into my post-doc by chance. And this was the best chance I ever had. I remember the first interactions, the struggle to understand his English accent, the frustration of having him repeat things three times just to get the words through and of feeling I was slowing the discussions, and the rapid mutual taming during these exchanges. Jon was the brightest mind I ever met. He was among those people who were there, who went on accompanying me, staying in my mind, even in more recent times when we did not have the occasion of direct interactions. He was not only the brightest person, but he was also kind enough to make me feel I was worth exchanging ideas with. And he was supportive, in every stage of my career choices. I have a memory that I will always keep. I happened to have a job opportunity in France after just one year of post-doc; this meant a premature end to my London stay. That was a difficult choice and I got a hard time for it. When I went to Jon's office to let him know, I was feeling low and ashamed. And then, he just gently said something like "Isn't it a big achievement to get a tenured position in France?", and with his usual smile and sweet glint in the eyes he added wholeheartedly "Congratulations!". A few years later, he wrote the best letter of support I ever had for another job application. And whenever I would come back to London, he would ask me to pop into his office so that we could exchange news. Being considered by Jon was something that always felt like an amazement and an honour. Jon was not only the brightest, he was very kind and sympathetic, supportive and patient. I wish there was never such tragic news. It is a deep loss for science, and a personal loss for each of those who have had the luck to be infused by his ideas. The sorrow is tremendous. My deepest sympathy goes to Nilli and their children.