Yesterday (for five hours), my classmates and I sat in a sprawling circle in our presentation gallery and introduced our nascent master’s theses to the faculty. Topics veered around the room from house museum interpretation to dolomitic limestone, from analyzing historic building forms to designing additions. My sense of preservation’s interdisciplinary inclusiveness is so often renewed in this program. After all, good old James Marston Fitch said that “preservationists must also be generalists. That is, they must see their own special area of expertise as being only one strand in a larger fabric, the warp and woof of which consist of many other coequal and coexistent specialties.”
The experience that has most memorably illustrated this point for me, in an almost absurd way, came during a course that I took in my first semester, “Interactive Environments + Preservation.” Taught by new media leads from the innovative design firm Rockwell Group, the class explored the technologies that create interactive architectural environments, the use of sensors in spatial storytelling, and how interactive interventions might facilitate preservation. One of the first class meetings was held at Rockwell Group’s offices. Gathered in a lab lined with material samples, at a table next to a model of the set for the 2010 Oscar telecast, we gave brief presentations on why we had chosen specific spaces for which we would develop hypothetical interventions. (I had chosen my subway station.) We then discussed the basics of sensor technology and began to construct our first prototypes. Only in a field as interdisciplinary as preservation would I find myself giving a spiel on Ezra Pound and learning how to solder electronics within the span of an hour.
Here is how I started my presentation:
As an English major who enjoys finding ways to prove the relevance of my degree, I’d actually like to begin with a poem by Ezra Pound. Don’t worry, it’s only two lines.
In a station of the metro
The apparition of these faces in the crowd ;
Petals on a wet, black bough.
This poem was Pound’s attempt to capture an epiphany he experienced at the instant of this “apparition” in a Parisian metro station, and it is hailed as the prime example of the Imagist movement of poetry with which he has come to be identified. The main goal of Imagism is to capture and precisely render the sensations of a moment. Pound himself said, “In a poem of this sort, one is trying to record the precise instant when a thing outward and objective transforms itself, or darts into a thing inward and subjective.” He defined an image as “that which presents an intellectual and emotional complex in an instant of time.” One of the tenets of Imagism is that “concentration is of the very essence of poetry,” so followers of this movement were attempting to concentrate the essence of an entire sensory experience into a single, succinct, intensified, usually visual image. I believe that this aim of making the abstract concrete, making the invisible visible, recording the experience at the moment of transformation from outward to inward as Pound described, is exactly what we talk about in considering how interactive environment technologies capture the friction between the physical and the virtual, and record and amplify an ephemeral sensory experience in the moment…
(What are these interactive environment technologies of which I was speaking? Check out the Interaction Lab at Rockwell Group.)