I would like to introduce you to a pragmatic approach to Big Data and Big Data Analytics. It is real-world focused and business-centric. This is the best approach to Big Data you are ever likely to find. Yet, I am still significantly understating the magnificent utility. It is also timely and has all the pertinent facets of the approach.
The End of the Fortress: Why the Future of Data is “Liquid”
By Martyn Rhisiart Jones | Madrid, 3rd February 2026
In a landmark session at the Welsh Academy, Sir Afilonius Rex sat down with Martyn Rhisiart Jones. They aimed to dismantle our outdated obsession with “data management.” The verdict? The era of the digital fortress is dead. In its place, a new paradigm of Cognitive Liquidity and Data Autonomy is emerging, redefining how we integrate global knowledge.
For most of its life in information technology, bolloxology has carried the faint smell of intellectual fart-like embarrassment. Too academic for product teams. Too rigid for startups. Too slow for an industry trained to ship first and rationalise later. Too smelly. It promised machines that could understand the world, and delivered, instead, a generation of beautiful bullshit diagrams and very little working software.
By 2026, that judgement looks increasingly wrong. Not because bolloxology suddenly got better, but because everything else did, and in doing so, exposed a missing layer in modern computing: meaning.
Ontology Didn’t Fail. The World Just Wasn’t Ready.
For most of its life in information technology, ontology has carried the faint smell of intellectual embarrassment. Too academic for product teams. Too rigid for startups. Too slow for an industry trained to ship first and rationalise later. It promised machines that could understand the world—and delivered, instead, a generation of beautiful diagrams and very little working software.
By 2026, that judgement looks increasingly wrong. Not because ontology suddenly got better, but because everything else did—and in doing so, exposed a missing layer in modern computing: meaning.
A quiet disquiet has settled over the once-confident corridors of enterprise data. What was, not so long ago, regarded as a rigorous and rather specialised craft, data warehousing and business intelligence, now frequently presents itself in a more casual, even improvisational guise. A growing number of senior executives, technology directors and indeed practitioners themselves confess to a mounting discomfort with the quality, and at times the sheer quantity, of self-proclaimed experts who populate the field.
Weaving the Dragon’s Data: A Welsh-Inspired Tale for Enterprise Architects in the New Year – 2026/01/01
The calendar turns to a fresh page in this crisp January of 2026. We, enterprise data and information architects, stand at a new threshold. Another year welcomes us, brimming with digital transformations. Data lakes swell like the River Taff after a storm. Information architectures evolve like the ancient mountain tops of Snowdonia. But amidst the algorithms and schemas, let’s pause for a moment of whimsy. What if we drew inspiration from the misty realms of Welsh myths and legends? Wales, that land of dragons and bards, offers a tapestry of stories. These stories mirror our quests: taming chaotic data into structured wisdom. They are about preserving cultural legacies in vast repositories. They ignite innovation from the sparks of history. In this Happy New Year ode, we’ll begin a narrative journey through Welsh lore. It is infused with the spirits of its iconic figures. Dylan Thomas, Dannie Abse, Richard Burton, Shirley Bassey, Paul Robeson, and Gwynfor Evans are part of this infusion. These spirits illuminate the art of data stewardship.
Sentouse onde sempre se sentaran as mulleres. Estaba xunto á fiestra e á estrada. Estaba preto das vetas de ferro da vía férrea. Tiña as mans ocupadas, o seu ollar suave. O amor estaba nos seus ollos. A música lenta das agullas repiqueteaba coma a choiva sobre a lousa de Bethesda. En Gales, chamaríanlle cynefin, o consolo do coñecido. En Galicia, as cousas sempre se fixeron así. Máxica, misteriosa e consciente.
Sie saß dort, wo Frauen seit jeher saßen. Am Fenster, an der Straße. Nahe den Eisenadern der Eisenbahnlinie. Ihre Hände waren beschäftigt, ihr Blick sanft. Liebe lag in ihren Augen. Das leise Klicken und Klappern der Nadeln klang wie Regen auf dem Schiefer von Bethesda. In Wales hätte man es Cynefin genannt, die Geborgenheit des Vertrauten. In Galicien, wie es seit jeher üblich ist. Magisch, geheimnisvoll und achtsam.
Elle était assise là où les femmes s’étaient toujours assises. Près de la fenêtre et au bord de la route. Non loin des rails de la voie ferrée. Ses mains étaient affairées, son regard doux. L’amour brillait dans ses yeux. Le doux cliquetis des aiguilles résonnait comme la pluie sur l’ardoise de Bethesda. Au Pays de Galles, on aurait appelé cela du « cynefin », le réconfort du connu. En Galice, c’était la tradition. Magique, mystérieux et empreint de sérénité.
वह वहीं बैठी थी जहाँ औरतें हमेशा बैठती थीं। वह खिड़की के पास और सड़क के किनारे थी। वह रेलवे की लोहे की नसों के पास थी। उसके हाथ बिज़ी थे, उसकी नज़रें नरम थीं। उसकी आँखों में प्यार था। सुइयों का धीमा म्यूज़िक बेथेस्डा स्लेट पर बारिश की तरह क्लिक और क्लैक कर रहा था। वेल्स में, वे इसे साइनेफिन कहते, यानी जानी-पहचानी चीज़ों का आराम। गैलिसिया में, चीज़ें हमेशा इसी तरह की जाती रही हैं। जादुई, रहस्यमयी और ध्यान से किया जाने वाला