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.

from Klaartje Heinen

I have worked with Jon for 3 years now and I was hoping to work with him for a considerable amount of time longer.

Discussing science with him, I didn’t always find easy. His pace of thinking and decision making would often leave me a bit bewildered. After a whirlwind of thoughts or comments he would pause and look at me to ask whether I agreed with him. Often all I could say was ‘I don’t know Jon I’ll have to think about this a bit longer’. As soon as I realised that he respected this and that I would always also find my own thoughts back in his summarizing emails, I became much more comfortable. I actually started to grow really fond of our one-to-one meetings in his office and even the slight awkwardness of our interactions, which I think amused us both.

I got to know him best during our few trips to meet our European partners. I was a bit surprised when upon arrival of our first trip to Barcelona, he suddenly told me that he relied on me to find our way around town as he admitted that his spatial awareness was very poor. His reaction to my response that in that case he was probably in the worst company (first alarm and then smiling about the irony of our joint interest in spatial attention), made me realise his sense of humour and that he was not only the serious, highly esteemed and brilliant scientist I had known so far. During those trips, I remember, we also talked about why he’d  enjoyed growing up in Hull (because of its quirky underground music scene), his love for Northern Soul music and Dorset (one of his favourite places in England) and his family. It was also during these European meetings that I became aware of his diplomatic skills and higher ideals in science. I was impressed how he was able to turn the noses of a whole group of successful but inherently stubborn scientists in the same direction.

It is remarkable for a man who was quite introverted and not always that easy to communicate with, how clear it was to everyone what his true nature really was. He was kind, extremely loyal, supportive and interested in people.  He was so generous in giving people opportunities to develop and I feel very grateful for my stroke of luck to be one of them.  The influence of his mentoring on my thinking has been absolutely invaluable and I’m sure I will realise that only more in the years to come. It makes me so sad there won’t be any new projects to discuss with him as in many ways I had the feeling that the best of our joint work was only still to come.

I will miss him very very dearly.

And considering how bereft we all feel, I cannot begin to think how the ones who were really close to him must be feeling right now: Nilli, his sons, his parents and sisters. I wish them all the possible strength and support in these incredibly sad times.

from Jennifer Linden

My husband Maneesh and I both knew Jon primarily as an academic

colleague, whom we both admired for his outstanding ability to design

elegant and insightful experiments.  Through my involvement in the UCL

Neuroscience Steering Committee, I also came to appreciate Jon's sense

of humor, ability to provoke discussion (!), and willingness to engage

with others regardless of their position in the academic hierarchy.

Most recently, after email correspondence with Jon about the terrible

difficulties he faced in trying to recover from the aftermath of his

motorcycle accident, I learned of his remarkable strength of character

and devotion to his family.  I was expecting and looking forward to

the return of his wry smile at committee meetings at UCL in the new

year.  The news of his passing was devastating, and I am deeply

saddened by the loss, especially for his wife and children.  I think

often now of a Hebrew saying I heard in a memorial for another friend

who died far too young.  To Nilli and the boys: may you never again

experience such sorrow.

from Richard Morris

I never knew Jon well, but had the privilege of working closely with him on the Sainsbury-Wellcome Centre during a period that I was seconded to the Wellcome Trust to work on dividend-release projects. Once UCL had won the competition, an executive steering group was put together consisting of he and other colleagues at UCL, and representatives of the funding bodies, chaired by Malcolm Grant.  He made many contributions to the discussions we had, and I found myself often turning to Jon and to Ray Dolan as the two leaders of two great neuroscience institutions within UCL for advice about how the two funders could help create yet another. His mixture of high scientific ambition with wise caution about what could be realistically achieved was particularly apt as we faced - and solved - some of the early problems. I am sorry that Jon will never, a few year’s hence, see the Institute he selflessly helped to shape, but for now, my thoughts are with Nilli and his family for their tragic loss.

from Neurotree

You might like to see Jon's scientific family tree

from Gaia Scerif

Jon and I met for the first time in 2000, when I started working with Annette Karmiloff-Smith. I explained that the developmental processes I was most interested in were changes in attentional control, and Annette's immediate suggestion for a PhD co-supervisor was Jon. I knew that I was privileged when he agreed given his elegant contributions to the field of attention, but meeting him in person was "something else". Within minutes of discussing a potential experiment, he would point out what would or would not work (as I discovered when I was stubborn enough not to listen) and would deliver all this in the most soft-spoken stream of flawless thoughts. I spent most meetings trying very hard to keep up, mainly failing, and that time was intellectually precious to me. He topped this with great support and career advice, but Jon was also really funny: at a recent seminar here in Oxford he presented the most impressive cutting-edge neuroscientific findings and accompanied them all with the dead-pan statement "At heart I am just a cognitive psychologist". I did a double-take and wrote that down. But what remains most vivid for me is the kind man. His warmest wishes when my son was born reminded me that the only time he stopped my ramblings during supervision was to say "Ok, now I have to go and pick up my son". The loss of Jon seems unfathomable. I hope that celebrating his life through all our memories will bring some solace to his family as well as to us all.  

from Alan Kingstone

Like a gifted athlete, Jon seemed to command time itself. He never seemed hurried in life. If anything, one had the sense that he found it all just a little amusing.  For myself, he triggered strong emotions: awe certainly, and a longing for more of him. I see now that it will always be so.

from Sabine Kastner

I had a difficult time to put my thoughts and feelings into words, perhaps as everybody else.  My first thoughts and love go to Nilli and the boys – Jon’s love for his family will stay with them forever, and as difficult as these days are and will always be in their memory, Jon’s love for them will stay and transcend the enormous tragedy of his death.  To tell you an anecdote on how much Jon cared about his family:  I tried to get Jon to visit Princeton for many years, but he would always decline telling me that his boys were too young, and he didn’t want to leave them and Nilli for long.  This was not a bad excuse (Jon loved to discuss science) – he simply meant it.  What a sweet man! 

I knew Jon as a very (I mean: VERY) valued colleague, from one or two visits to London, and through hundreds of e-mails over the years. Jon’s work had an important impact on me early on.  He had an amazing ability to design simple and straightforward experiments that would reveal incisive and conclusive results to address the most significant problems in cognitive psychology and cognitive neuroscience.  It sounds easy, but how can one do it?  It’s ART.  Jon’s ART.  Generations of students have learnt and will continue learning from it.

Jon was never egotistic about his art, he generously supported colleagues in his field.  On one occasion, I turned to Jon quite desperately on a study that we had been done having subjects attend to a checkerboard stimulus (and scan their brains).  No one got it – the field turned away and thought that we were undermining attention research with silly, simplified designs.  Jon got it, and he started to campaign for the study and for me.  Eventually, the checkerboards were acceptable and have been used since.  And my early career flourished – thanks to Jon.

Jon and I had a favorite question over the years that we would get to discuss consistently though somewhat infrequently.  But all these discussions moved our questioning a little bit forward.  The question was “Is there really something like top-down?”  I asked this question in an e-mail to Jon about 6-7 years ago after giving a lecture in London and debating all kind of attention issues with Jon over two dinners and some beer.  Jon answered something like “what else should there be? Let’s talk more.”  We did, and we had many inspiring ideas, but never came to a conclusion.  This will be the un-answered question that I’ll have to carry on with – without Jon.  And there will be no brilliant answer, because there can’t be – without Jon.  I’ll try hard – I’ll miss your wonderful mind.  And I am so thankful that I knew you.

from Faraneh Vargha-Khadem

On a cold and gloomy day in December 2004, I met Jon for the first time

over lunch at Ciao Bella's to discuss ways in which we could strengthen

ties between the Institute of Cognitive Neuroscience and Great Ormond

Street Hospital and Institute of Child Health. Jon was full of ideas and

saw links running through UCL departments, institutions, and faculties

long before "interdisciplinarity", "translational research" and "from

laboratory to clinic" had become popular catch phrases.  It was so

inspiring to be in the company of this brilliant scientist who was at the

same time selfless, humble, and driven by the desire to empower others. On

leaving the restaurant, I had the distinct thought that despite his young

age, Jon had already reached the status of a kind and caring statesman.

Our subsequent meetings only strengthened this impression and deepened my

admiration of his character.

The last time I saw Jon was this past Summer.  He was sitting in the

sunshine with a group of friends having coffee at Starbucks on Lambs

Conduit Street.  If only I had known this would be the last glimpse that I

would have of this wonderful man.  My thoughts are with his wife, his

sons, and his parents.

from David Soto

I have always been a fan of Jon Driver's work. Ten years back in Spain when I was doing my PhD some of the first influential papers I read were his contribution to an special issue in Cognition on 'Objects and Attention' and his fantastic single author paper in Nature back in 1996. It was then my pleasure to meet him in a couple of occasions, the later when he invited me to give  a talk at the ICN a couple of years ago; Jon was really kind and nice to me on that day; I felt really honoured to have him as a host!  I will always remain a fan of his work. I have not had the opportunity to know him better as a person but this week I felt a great loss. My deepest sympathies go for his family, colleagues and friends.

from Mal Williamson

It has been great to read about Jon's working life on this blog. Many years ago I was the manager of his band The London Boys - and we all should have given up when he left!  Reading what people have said it would seem Jon never changed. The kindness, quiet and modest - I`d forgotten about that.  And putting an end to the discussion so we all realised it had gone on long enough. The best arguments were with Jon and usually ended with a lot of laughing and his quiet smile as he looked at you.  We lost the main discussion - the one where he went off to Uni. To do something silly like Psychology was it?!  "Stay with the band!"  I think we were all equally upset and proud when he made his decision to leave. I have been a colleague of his sister Sarah for some years so have kept up with some of his fantastic achievements. I had been hoping to bump into him again and chat about it all. So sad. Huge condolences to his family and friends. Take care of yourselves.

from John Duncan

Everybody who knew Jon knew the stunning, sometimes unsettling speed of his turbocharged mind.  I wonder how many other collaborators, like me, found themselves a little reluctant to email an idea for an experiment, knowing that within 5 minutes would come back a reply with all the problems of the original idea, a few more ideas that were a good bit better, and some extra theoretical development as an afterthought.  What I also learned through working with Jon, though, was that he deserved his successes not just for the clarity of conception that went into the experiments, but for the painstaking insistence on making everything as perfect as it could be.  Long after I was saying “let’s run the experiment and see what the data look like”, Jon was still spitting, polishing, spitting, polishing…

For me, sharing Jon’s initials, early academic history (Oxford, Oregon, Cambridge) and research interests, his presence was always a valuable and sometimes comical lesson in humility.  There have been many examples over the years, but here are two.  An early committee meeting at the APU in Cambridge, wondering whether we can make a sufficiently strong offer to tempt Jon into joining us instead of the University.  A member asks whether there is really too much overlap between Jon’s research and mine, and never able to resist the search for a laugh, I offer to resign to make way for him.  There follows a slightly uneasy silence as I can tell my colleagues are thinking, “Really not such a bad idea….”  Or – crammed with a group of neuroscientists in the back of a minibus speeding through the hot Marrakesh night, the young woman next to me starts to tell me how much she has always admired my work.  The brilliant experiments on object structure and neglect… the exposition of cross-modal attentional integration…her enthusiasm turned gradually to silence as we both realized who it really was that she was talking about.  She was mortified, but I took it as a compliment - Jon was a person you just had to admire and try all you could to keep up with while the fireworks exploded around you.  For me, he was the sort of scientist who makes it all worthwhile; like so many others, I am terribly sad to have lost him.

from Ian Robertson

Jon was a brilliant and generous man who I remember hitting Cambridge like a laser in the early nineties, but above all he was devoted to his family. In a couple of emails to me in the last few weeks, it was Nilli and his boys who were uppermost in his mind, as they are in mine at this moment. 

from Sarah Blakemore

I first met Jon in 1997 when I was doing my PhD in Queen Square. I vividly remember the first talk I heard him give – the same memorable talk about neglect that Bob Turner mentions below. Back then I was a bit awe-struck, having just done a degree in psychology in which I studied Jon’s seminal studies on attention. But it soon became clear that Jon was oblivious to hierarchy, and interested in people, ideas and discussion, no matter what stage of career the person was at. After a post-doc in France, I moved back to UCL in 2003 and, around the same time, Jon became Director of the ICN and he and Uta Frith invited me to become a group leader in their department. What was clear from the day I started working at the ICN was that I had Jon’s complete and utter support, and he went well beyond the call of duty, giving me enormous amounts of help with grant applications, promotions, and nominating me for early career prizes. I couldn't really believe my luck! It was truly amazing to know that I had the full support and encouragement of this very important and brilliant person, and I think this really helped my career at a critical stage. Jon seemed to thrive on giving this kind of support to so many people, and his generosity in this respect was inspiring.

Jon always seemed to be a "people person". Although he perhaps wasn't as extrovert as some, he seemed very comfortable with people, no matter how famous (or not) they were, or what stage of their career they were at. As well as work, the politics of science, UCL bureaucracy, grants and so on, we often talked about our children, Crouch End (where we both lived at the same time for a few years), fishing (his interest, not mine, but apparently I now live in the fishing capital of England). His dry sense of humour always made me laugh. I have to admit that I did slightly dread his questions when I gave talks or project presentations - the glint in his eye, leaning back in his chair, and the smile after some cutting (and somewhat mumbled) comment that pointed out a major flaw in my experimental design or something. I have had many long emails from Jon explaining to me exactly what he meant about why my design, or data interpretation, was not optimal. But I will always remember the kind and special emails that Jon sent after the birth of my sons – so full of warmth and genuine happiness. I will really miss Jon, and my thoughts are with Nilli and their sons, of whom he was so utterly proud.

from Usha Goswami

Jon was one of my dearest friends and just the nicest and most decent person. He was also great fun, he had a dry wit and he always made me laugh. And of course, as others have noted, he was intellectually quite brilliant. We first met as undergraduates at Oxford, we were then Ph.D. students together (also Oxford) and then Junior Research Fellows. We used to walk to lunch to our Colleges (Jon was at Christchurch), and discuss our work. I remember him telling me he was trying out a wacky idea with neglect patients, involving them crossing out lines. Of course, this wacky idea eventually led to a Nature paper. Jon loved guitars and old cars. He had a TR4 which he drove around in, I remember you could see the road moving beneath you through a gap in the floor of the car. Seeing him drive this old car out of the Christchurch gate was quite something. He used to drive out to the Cotswolds to go fishing, he loved fishing in chalk streams. He also at one time ran a club above a pub in Oxford, to indulge his taste for music that was not yet mainstream. Jon and I then both went out to the USA (I have posted a great photo of him at Berkeley, looking very young), and we both came back to lectureships at Cambridge. We had labs opposite each other. He said that when we were old we would both be boring old farts in the same department somewhere. His loss is unbearable.

from Essi Viding

I had read many of Jon’s papers before I ever met him and like everyone else, was in awe of his brilliance as a scientist. During my first years as a UCL lecturer I had to sit in a few committees with Jon, and was always impressed by his ability to get to the heart of the matter, while being warm and diplomatic. He was extremely persuasive, but in a very ‘soft’ manner.

I often found it funny how someone who was so utterly quick and sharp in the meetings, was such a sweet and kind man in person. Jon, to me, was foremost the husband of my dear friend Nilli. My pervasive memory is of Jon wearing cool T-shirts and jeans, hanging around the house, playing guitar with his boys, and cuddling my daughter. I know that he and Nilli were soulmates and it breaks my heart to think of the loss to her and the boys, as well as Jon’s immediate family.

from Bob Turner

I knew Jon not just as a colleague, good friend and much appreciated ally, but as a close neighbour in North London. When he, Nilli and their first son moved into our tiny street of 12 houses more than ten years ago, it began to feel like a real community. Jon and Nilli contributed greatly to our collective neighborhood plans to upgrade our unadopted street, a friendly oasis with occasional street parties, in the anonymity of the huge city. Jon's good sense, shrewdness, cheerfulness and confidence always raised our spirits.

It was the same when Jon asked for my help in planning UCL Psychology's own MRI scanner--it was a huge pleasure to work with him. His motivation was transparent--real scientific understanding, opening of doors. And he was such a brilliant speaker--though it must be well over ten years ago, I can still remember the actual slides he showed when I first heard him describe neglect.

I will never forget, either, the warmth and genuine sincerity of Jon's congratulations when I found my new appointment in Germany in 2006. He is someone I really missed after I left--and now I will always miss him.

from Driss Boussaoud

I have met John Driver once at Queen Square, in 2001, and spent few hours with him discussing his work on attention, while visiting his lab. He then visited us at the Institute of Cognitive Science (ISC), in Lyon (France) in 2002, for a ICN-ISC joint meeting. Since then, I live with the impression that I know John as if he were a friend of mine. I therefore have the feeling that I have lost a friend. I miss him already, and I join all his friends and family members for this commemoration.

from David Carmel

Jon was director of the ICN when I was a graduate student there. I never worked with him directly; his wife, Nilli Lavie, was my PhD advisor and they were always very careful to keep their personal and professional worlds separate. But we did interact. What set Jon apart was the way he remained enthusiastically involved in the fine details of research, in a way that is unusual at that level of seniority. It wasn’t just that he’d ask how my research was going – which he did every now and then – but that he was happy to delve into the details of specific experiments with anyone, regardless of his or her place in the academic pecking order.

The first time I encountered this was one Friday afternoon in my second year, after project presentations (a weekly forum in which new research ideas are presented for approval and feedback). Someone from Jon’s group had presented a new project, and I’d asked a question. Later that day Jon showed up in my office and said, “That was an interesting question, can we discuss it?” I wasn’t feeling very well that day, and although I did vaguely remember asking something I had no recollection of what it was, or even what the project was about. I’m fairly certain the thinking underlying my question hadn’t been anywhere near as clever as Jon thought it had been. I stammered through the next twenty minutes, very aware, when Jon left, that he probably hadn’t gotten what he’d come for. But he gave people a lot of credit, and was back in my office for a similar purpose two weeks later, giving me a chance to redeem myself for which I was very grateful.

from Arpan Mehta

I was deeply upset to hear of the tragic news.  I am a junior doctor, hoping to become an academic neurologist, and met Professor Driver at a lecture that he gave at Caius College, Cambridge, when I was reading Part II Physiology and Psychology (around 2006/7).  My Part II file has the following entry: “inspirational lecture, eloquent, witty, smart [referring to his impeccable appearance], very friendly, relevant [encouraging me to re-read all of his papers in the run up to Finals]”.  I remember him coming to talk to me at the end of the series of talks (in a room full of senior figures, some of whom were Fellows of the Royal Society) and was touched by his kindness and the interest that he took in me as a person, a junior scientist and a soon-to-be clinician.  He took the opportunity to find out how Greg Davis (one of his former PhD students, and one of my essay supervisors) was doing, highlighting both Professor Driver’s astuteness and caring attitude.  He was keen for me to maintain my interests in Visual Neuroscience as I started my clinical studies and offered to help later on.  Reading everyone else’s memories has emphasised the profound impact that he had on everyone, no matter how junior.  I wish I had had the opportunity to meet him again.  My thoughts and prayers are for Professor Lavie, the children, and Professor Driver’s immediate colleagues at this time of sadness and loss.  

from Chris Bird

For my first meeting with Jon as my manager at the ICN we went to a local cafe. He ordered himself two sandwiches and we sat down at a table, whereupon he gave me an unbroken stream of helpful advice; managing my projects, redesigning my experiments and general career advice. After about 15 minutes it was clear that our meeting was coming to an end and I was struggling to keep up with everything Jon had said. At this point I noticed that he had managed to eat both sandwiches despite not apparently having paused to draw breath. I shall greatly miss Jon’s useful and insightful comments delivered at breakneck speed. More generally, Jon will always be remembered for carrying out some of the most elegant and ingenious experiments in the field of cognitive neuroscience.

from the London Boys (as mentioned below; with thanks to Brad Duchaine & Steffan Kennett)

from The Psychologist

0111 One

from Lúcia Garrido

I first met Jon Driver in 2005 when I wanted to do a PhD at the ICN. We talked about my background and about my reasons for wanting to do research. I have always been extremely grateful to Jon for having decided that I could do a PhD and having introduced me to Brad Duchaine so that I could work with him. Jon then became my second PhD supervisor. In our meetings, I was always so impressed how Jon could so rapidly figure out what was wrong about my experiments, make very incisive comments, and offer precious suggestions about what I should do.  Working with Jon made me always want to do my best.

I truly admired Jon Driver for his brilliance and I will always be tremendously thankful for his generosity.  

from Chris Chambers

Jon was a wonderful mentor to me from 2006-2008 when I worked at the ICN. Our chats were fantastic and his insights into science were always razor sharp and delivered at light speed! I soon got into the habit of having a strong espresso before key meetings just to keep up with him (and even then…)

I have so many fond memories of our conversations....from his dry wit about life and politics (and interestingly, sometimes about the Royal family), to his clarity of thought on so many wide ranging issues in science. I no doubt embarrassed myself on many occasions with my ignorance.

Some more light-hearted recollections…

Before I came to the UK, I was told by my previous supervisor (who worked with Jon for many years) that he often talks low and fast, and to be sure to just summon the courage to tell him if he mumbles – the biggest mistake you could make with Jon was to pretend to understand! I still remember one meeting early on when Jon was explaining something faster than my brain or ears could keep up with, when I foolishly blurted out “you’re mumbling, Jon”, and then realised what I had said and who I had said it too! But Jon just laughed, leaned back in his chair and repeated everything extremely loud at an embarrassingly slow pace. It was hilarious and a great ice breaker. Another thing that stunned me was how incredibly organised and efficient his thoughts were. You would no sooner finish a meeting, return to your desk, and there would be an email waiting for you from Jon summarising everything said by everyone over the course of an hour, in very few words, and in crystal clear terms.

One thing I will always remember is how Jon would sit in the front row of virtually every ICN seminar, and at some point during a talk would just start talking himself, always asking some brilliant and incisive question without even raising his hand. It was guaranteed to send unprepared speakers into a spin, but I don't think that's why Jon did it. He just wanted his question answered....now please. Jon didn’t mind – he seemed as comfortable at the ICN as if he was sitting in his own lounge room. He really seemed at home at those seminars.

Lab meetings were particularly memorable. I remember one time in 2006 or 2007 when Martin Eimer was a guest at one of Jon’s group meetings. The two of them were vigorously debating something, with Jon rocking back and forth on two legs of his chair (as he tended to when operating at full steam)….when all of sudden Jon leaned back just a bit too far and nearly ended upside down in a rubbish bin. It was brilliant and caused much (muffled) laughter. Jon smiled ruefully but barely paused in his argument.

I find it easier to reminisce about the light-hearted moments because, in reality, I find Jon’s passing too sad for words. He gave me so many opportunities and taught me so much, and demanded absolutely nothing in return. In those two years at the ICN, I learned a great deal about the craft of science and he taught me how things worked in the UK. I “grew up” as a scientist because of his mentoring.

As others have so rightly said, aside from his genius, his most defining characteristic was his utter selflessness. He did science not to become powerful or important, but because he wanted to discover out how things worked. I always felt that his generosity to junior researchers was motivated by a desire to trigger that same sense of wonder in others. We have lost not just a brilliant scientist and leader, but a benevolent mentor, and a genuinely inspirational and irreplaceable person. I will miss him.

from Margarita Sarri

Learning from and working alongside with Jon changes one forever. I met Jon 10 years ago, when I first arrived in London. I was doing an MSc at the time and after his first lecture it was immediately apparent to me that this was the person I wanted to learn from the most. I pursued that. He was just inspirational. I was lucky to stay next to Jon for the following 6 years, doing my PhD, and then a post-doc. It was truly a privilege. It changed my way of thinking forever. He was an exceptional scientist and an exceptional man.  He was my scientific mentor and an important figure in my life.

What I always found admirable about Jon was that besides his unique intellectual abilities, he was always humble and down to earth. He was a truly supportive person and always fair to everyone. I knew I could always go to him for advice, and I did so often, even years after I left his lab.

I remember: Trying to get some of Jon’s time and as a result jumping in the elevator and having 1 minute meetings while we went from the ground floor to the 3^rd floor; his amazing dedication to making corrections to my PhD draft; his kindness and support when life became difficult; the heated debates; the invaluable advice; his use of semi-colons! ; the absolute feeling of respect and admiration.

I still can’t believe he is not with us anymore.  I will miss him tremendously, but I will carry him and everything he taught me about life in memory forever.

from Mark Johnson

I first met Jon in late 1990 when we overlapped for several months as Research Fellows in Mike Posner’s lab.  Mike suggested that I show the new British visitor – a ‘hot shot’ from Oxford – around Eugene to make him feel welcome.  After a couple of nights of visiting the bars and cafes in town we became firm friends.  In the months that followed before I left to take up a post at Carnegie-Mellon we also undertook some camping trips, sampling Oregon coastal delights such as ‘oyster shooters’.  Our conversations varied widely, but often centrered on the future of the field, and our intended contributions to it.

As the subsequent years went by our meetings were mainly at conferences.  These meetings would usually entail drinking, along with some game during which Jon’s strong competitive streak would rapidly emerge.  I recall hotly contested chess (at one meeting) and boules (at another) which Jon insisted that we play every night until he gained the upper hand!

Over the past decade our paths crossed more regularly in London and we had (sadly too few) lunches, during which Jon cross-questioned me on the state of the field and the personalities in it.  At these lunches he often revealed his delight in fatherhood and his love of family life with Nilli.  The last time we met for lunch Jon said that we must finally get around to writing a paper together after all these years.  Sadly, I will never have that privilege.

From postdoc to professor we grew up together.  The thought that he has gone is hard to take.