Most PhD history programs require students to be proficient enough in a second language to translate a one page passage of text into English. Many even require a third. Which languages a student is expected to know usually depends upon his or her proposed course of study.
At some of the more prestigious institutions, someone studying French history would generally be expected to know English, French and German. Someone studying Chinese history would need to know two Asian languages. This makes sense, as anyone claiming to be an expert on a given topic best be able to read primary sources in the language they were written.
At the Center for History and New Media, where I am currently working, I've had to learn another language: JavaScript. Some of my colleagues are also fluent in php, html, Java, python, perl and c++. In the past year by using these languages, my colleagues have created powerful tools; one helps over a million people manage their internet research (Zotero), and another powers the digital collections of museums and archives all over the world (Omeka), all for free.
I wonder how long until the language requirement for Ancient Greek is replaced with "JavaScript, Python and one of php or html?"
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Say No to Canadian National Museums in Winnipeg
Some day in the not so distant future, Winnipeg will have a Canadian National Museum: The National Museum of Human Rights. This will be the country's first national museum outside of the capital region.
This is a terrible idea, and I do not intend to visit.
Despite this, I understand why someone would make a case for a museum in Winnipeg. Canada is one of a handful of countries in the world so big that centralizing everything in a capital region means that some people will live too far away to benefit from these institutions. This problem is only getting worse as fuel prices rise and airline ticket prices skyrocket. Underprivileged kids in St. John's and Vancouver will likely never get the opportunity to come to Ottawa to experience all the museums and monuments.
It's no secret that Western Canadians feel life is unfair and everyone in Toronto is trying to destroy the world, so the concept of having a national museum a little closer to home is a refreshing idea. But, is Winnipeg really closer?
Winnipeggers aside, nearly everyone else in the country - including many northern Manitoba residents - have to fly into this rather isolated community. It's so isolated, that the nearest major city (Minneapolis) is seven hours drive, just slightly shorter than the drive from Toronto to New York City.
It is actually cheaper for someone to fly from Vancouver to Ottawa, than from Vancouver to Winnipeg.
Prices for July 21, round trip:
Vancouver to Winnipeg: $914
Vancouver to Ottawa: $900
St. John's to Winnipeg: $1469
St. John's to Ottawa: $952
Toronto to Winnipeg: $710
The poor, underprivileged who live outside of Ontario and Quebec may never be able to afford to come to Ottawa to see the national monuments and museums, but what will putting one of these institutions in Winnipeg do to help alleviate that? Pardon my skepticism, but I find it hard to believe that anyone is going to spend a thousand dollars or more to fly into Winnipeg to see one museum, when they could spend the same to go see many in Ottawa, and even catch an NHL game while they're at it (too soon?).
Sure, the 600 000 residents of Winnipeg will have an opportunity to see the Human Rights Museum, but they aren't likely going to go often enough to keep it open and prevent it from being a drain on federal resources. And sure, those people who do go to Winnipeg for vacations or business will likely go. But, does anyone honestly believe putting a museum in the middle of a small isolated city is going to draw in flocks of tourists from thousands of miles away?
Tourists don't flock to Paris just to see the Louvre. They don't go to Amsterdam to see just the Rijksmuseum. They don't go to New York just to see the Museum of Modern Art. Nobody is going to go to Winnipeg just to see the Human Rights Museum.
The decision to decentralize Canadian museums has other negative effects. The biggest cost associated with most history research is getting to the resources. If the collection you need to study is in Ottawa, you've got to get to Ottawa to look at it. This is why professors go on sabbatical and spend a year far from their universities, spending travel grants paid for by tax payers.
Library and Archives Canada is in Ottawa; that means most researchers studying Canadian topics will have to make the trip to Ottawa already. Anyone studying something related to the Human Rights Museum's collection will now have to stretch their research budget further and make a trip to Winnipeg.
The only argument for decentralizing these records is that Ottawa is under constant threat of nuclear attack and if everything is in Ottawa during the attack it will be lost. Despite what the American media would have us believe, I don't think this is a real problem at the moment. If we are worried, digital copies of the records can easily be stored on computer servers across the country to make it harder to destroy all traces of our collections.
And that leads me to my final point.
If the decision to put a national museum in Winnipeg was made to make Canadian National Museums accessible to more Canadians, then we should build the museum in Ottawa, and work towards becoming a world leader in online museum experiences. There are very few exhibits, lessons and resources that can't be effectively put online, with a bit of creativity. This will bring the museums to all Canadians. Building in Winnipeg will not.
This is a terrible idea, and I do not intend to visit.
Despite this, I understand why someone would make a case for a museum in Winnipeg. Canada is one of a handful of countries in the world so big that centralizing everything in a capital region means that some people will live too far away to benefit from these institutions. This problem is only getting worse as fuel prices rise and airline ticket prices skyrocket. Underprivileged kids in St. John's and Vancouver will likely never get the opportunity to come to Ottawa to experience all the museums and monuments.
It's no secret that Western Canadians feel life is unfair and everyone in Toronto is trying to destroy the world, so the concept of having a national museum a little closer to home is a refreshing idea. But, is Winnipeg really closer?
Winnipeggers aside, nearly everyone else in the country - including many northern Manitoba residents - have to fly into this rather isolated community. It's so isolated, that the nearest major city (Minneapolis) is seven hours drive, just slightly shorter than the drive from Toronto to New York City.
It is actually cheaper for someone to fly from Vancouver to Ottawa, than from Vancouver to Winnipeg.
Prices for July 21, round trip:
Vancouver to Winnipeg: $914
Vancouver to Ottawa: $900
St. John's to Winnipeg: $1469
St. John's to Ottawa: $952
Toronto to Winnipeg: $710
The poor, underprivileged who live outside of Ontario and Quebec may never be able to afford to come to Ottawa to see the national monuments and museums, but what will putting one of these institutions in Winnipeg do to help alleviate that? Pardon my skepticism, but I find it hard to believe that anyone is going to spend a thousand dollars or more to fly into Winnipeg to see one museum, when they could spend the same to go see many in Ottawa, and even catch an NHL game while they're at it (too soon?).
Sure, the 600 000 residents of Winnipeg will have an opportunity to see the Human Rights Museum, but they aren't likely going to go often enough to keep it open and prevent it from being a drain on federal resources. And sure, those people who do go to Winnipeg for vacations or business will likely go. But, does anyone honestly believe putting a museum in the middle of a small isolated city is going to draw in flocks of tourists from thousands of miles away?
Tourists don't flock to Paris just to see the Louvre. They don't go to Amsterdam to see just the Rijksmuseum. They don't go to New York just to see the Museum of Modern Art. Nobody is going to go to Winnipeg just to see the Human Rights Museum.
The decision to decentralize Canadian museums has other negative effects. The biggest cost associated with most history research is getting to the resources. If the collection you need to study is in Ottawa, you've got to get to Ottawa to look at it. This is why professors go on sabbatical and spend a year far from their universities, spending travel grants paid for by tax payers.
Library and Archives Canada is in Ottawa; that means most researchers studying Canadian topics will have to make the trip to Ottawa already. Anyone studying something related to the Human Rights Museum's collection will now have to stretch their research budget further and make a trip to Winnipeg.
The only argument for decentralizing these records is that Ottawa is under constant threat of nuclear attack and if everything is in Ottawa during the attack it will be lost. Despite what the American media would have us believe, I don't think this is a real problem at the moment. If we are worried, digital copies of the records can easily be stored on computer servers across the country to make it harder to destroy all traces of our collections.
And that leads me to my final point.
If the decision to put a national museum in Winnipeg was made to make Canadian National Museums accessible to more Canadians, then we should build the museum in Ottawa, and work towards becoming a world leader in online museum experiences. There are very few exhibits, lessons and resources that can't be effectively put online, with a bit of creativity. This will bring the museums to all Canadians. Building in Winnipeg will not.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Washington DC, the ultimate History Mashup
I spent the better part of Saturday afternoon in the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial Library in Washington D.C. doing some family history research for someone I know. I went in with a single name and to my surprise, came out with a very complete picture of three people.
The Washington library has a lovely little shelf of books for genealogists to do their one-stop shopping for information, almost all indexed by surname. It turns out, nearly everything a genealogist in D.C. could want has been indexed this way by a couple of dedicated archivists. My research was just a matter of flipping through the index of each book, looking for the name I wanted, or a close variation thereof. I was essentially Google searching the old fashioned way.
Not only did I find marriage records, death announcements and a transcription of a will, but I found what was essentially a phone book for 1822 D.C. listing most of the 13 000 residents, and abstracts of the newspaper, the National Intelligencer from 1800 to the end of the Civil War. Each one of these works is an amazing feat in itself, but together they paint an amazing and rather comprehensive image of what Washington DC was like during the 19th century.
Based on the information available in the books on this shelf, it would be quite feasible to map exactly where almost all of Washington D.C.'s 19th century citizens lived.
The woman I was researching lived at the "n side I n. btw 19 & 20w."
Here's where that falls on a modern map. Plotted for me by Google Maps.
The David Rumsey Map collection has already been working with Google Earth, and overlays of historic D.C. maps can be viewed using Google Earth. This means that KML markup (the language that allows people to add their photos/comments/links to Google Earth) can be applied to these historic maps.
Using the City Directories, available from the Washington Public Library, the residents of 19th century Washington could be plotted onto this map. The directories were published every 5 years or so, and the migration of citizens could be plotted over time.
Each entry could include all of the documentary evidence still available about these people, much the same way people add photos to Google Earth.
Such a project would be a fabulous finding aid to genealogists who are searching for relatives who lived in the D.C. area.
It would also be one of the world's greatest Mash-ups, making evident a huge number of relationships to historians. Everything from patterns in crime, to trends in migration, to whether or not people married outside of their neighbourhoods would become open to the data mining of historians, using techniques not unlike Bill Turkel's Naive Bayesian project using the Old Bailey Online database.
Perhaps a future CHNM project?
The Washington library has a lovely little shelf of books for genealogists to do their one-stop shopping for information, almost all indexed by surname. It turns out, nearly everything a genealogist in D.C. could want has been indexed this way by a couple of dedicated archivists. My research was just a matter of flipping through the index of each book, looking for the name I wanted, or a close variation thereof. I was essentially Google searching the old fashioned way.
Not only did I find marriage records, death announcements and a transcription of a will, but I found what was essentially a phone book for 1822 D.C. listing most of the 13 000 residents, and abstracts of the newspaper, the National Intelligencer from 1800 to the end of the Civil War. Each one of these works is an amazing feat in itself, but together they paint an amazing and rather comprehensive image of what Washington DC was like during the 19th century.
Based on the information available in the books on this shelf, it would be quite feasible to map exactly where almost all of Washington D.C.'s 19th century citizens lived.
The woman I was researching lived at the "n side I n. btw 19 & 20w."
Here's where that falls on a modern map. Plotted for me by Google Maps.
The David Rumsey Map collection has already been working with Google Earth, and overlays of historic D.C. maps can be viewed using Google Earth. This means that KML markup (the language that allows people to add their photos/comments/links to Google Earth) can be applied to these historic maps.
Using the City Directories, available from the Washington Public Library, the residents of 19th century Washington could be plotted onto this map. The directories were published every 5 years or so, and the migration of citizens could be plotted over time.
Each entry could include all of the documentary evidence still available about these people, much the same way people add photos to Google Earth.
Such a project would be a fabulous finding aid to genealogists who are searching for relatives who lived in the D.C. area.
It would also be one of the world's greatest Mash-ups, making evident a huge number of relationships to historians. Everything from patterns in crime, to trends in migration, to whether or not people married outside of their neighbourhoods would become open to the data mining of historians, using techniques not unlike Bill Turkel's Naive Bayesian project using the Old Bailey Online database.
Perhaps a future CHNM project?
Monday, June 30, 2008
"I know nothing of Canadian history"
A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of fighting D.C. rush hour traffic a with one of my colleagues at the Center for History and New Media. For anyone who doesn't know D.C. rush hour, that means we had a really long time to chat.
She is a Russian foreign exchange student; when I found this out, I instinctively went over everything I knew about Russian history in my head (I know, only a history buff would do something like that).
I recalled the book I read about Catherine the Great for a first year history essay; the battle of Stalingrad, which "Enemy at the Gates" brought to life; the communist regime which dominated sections of nearly every 20th century history course I've ever taken, and a dozen other facts.
When I mentioned that I was a Canadian foreign exchange student she said, "You know, I hate to say it. But, I know nothing of Canadian history." "We don't learn any of that."
This surprised me a little. I figured since we both shared soul crushing winters, that might evoke some interest in how we had coped with the bitter cold. Perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised. That very same day at the George Mason University bookstore I had noted that you could buy history books on everywhere from Eithiopia to Finland, but not one on Canada. Last time I checked, even Harvard doesn't teach anything about Canadian history.
She probably thought of most of it as British history, I informed her. Prior to 1919, Canada had never even signed a treaty in its own right. That doesn't leave for much history to know, really. We found some common ground in the 1972 summit series between Canada and the USSR, and shared a laugh that Americans take so much pride in the 1980 "miracle on ice" (a tournament in which the best hundred or so Canadian players were too busy being paid in the NHL to compete).
I felt a bit wounded that this Russian girl knew nothing of my nation's history, but then I recalled that I know almost nothing about New Zealand's history. Even less about most sub-Saharan African, South and Central American, Scandinavian, Adriatic, South East Asian, and South Pacific countries.
In fact, I really only know the histories of a dozen or so nations. And perhaps only three or four well. The ones I do know tend to have had rather unwelcome influences on the world at some time or another, be that British colonialism, German expansionism, or American cultural dominance. So maybe no publicity is good publicity when it comes to history? Maybe we're just not obnoxious enough to be studied.
At least, that's what I'll tell myself.
She is a Russian foreign exchange student; when I found this out, I instinctively went over everything I knew about Russian history in my head (I know, only a history buff would do something like that).
I recalled the book I read about Catherine the Great for a first year history essay; the battle of Stalingrad, which "Enemy at the Gates" brought to life; the communist regime which dominated sections of nearly every 20th century history course I've ever taken, and a dozen other facts.
When I mentioned that I was a Canadian foreign exchange student she said, "You know, I hate to say it. But, I know nothing of Canadian history." "We don't learn any of that."
This surprised me a little. I figured since we both shared soul crushing winters, that might evoke some interest in how we had coped with the bitter cold. Perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised. That very same day at the George Mason University bookstore I had noted that you could buy history books on everywhere from Eithiopia to Finland, but not one on Canada. Last time I checked, even Harvard doesn't teach anything about Canadian history.
She probably thought of most of it as British history, I informed her. Prior to 1919, Canada had never even signed a treaty in its own right. That doesn't leave for much history to know, really. We found some common ground in the 1972 summit series between Canada and the USSR, and shared a laugh that Americans take so much pride in the 1980 "miracle on ice" (a tournament in which the best hundred or so Canadian players were too busy being paid in the NHL to compete).
I felt a bit wounded that this Russian girl knew nothing of my nation's history, but then I recalled that I know almost nothing about New Zealand's history. Even less about most sub-Saharan African, South and Central American, Scandinavian, Adriatic, South East Asian, and South Pacific countries.
In fact, I really only know the histories of a dozen or so nations. And perhaps only three or four well. The ones I do know tend to have had rather unwelcome influences on the world at some time or another, be that British colonialism, German expansionism, or American cultural dominance. So maybe no publicity is good publicity when it comes to history? Maybe we're just not obnoxious enough to be studied.
At least, that's what I'll tell myself.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Living Historic Documents?
You'll all be happy to know that citizens of D.C. were given the green light by the U.S. Supreme Court yesterday to walk around with handguns (District of Columbia v. Heller). It turns out that the law previously preventing this was in violation of the U.S. Constitution's second amendment that allows Americans to arm themselves.
I know Americans love their constitution, but when it comes down to it the US Constitution is just a historic document, written by people with different hopes and dreams and needs than anyone alive today.
This 2nd Amendment was written generations ago by men who likely associated the right to carry weapons with the privileged life of the nobility back in Europe. Eighteenth-century European riff-raff couldn't carry guns, and these men wanted to show they were gentlemen. Carrying a gun suggested equal status with nobles. And of course it made it easier to ward off the danger of British invasion - which could still happen at any moment.
The whole situation reminds me of a book I'm currently reading: "The Year of Living Biblically" by A.J. Jacobs. The author tries to live for an entire year without breaking any of the rules of the Bible. His book repeatedly makes it clear that living literally by a historical text results in some ridiculous outakes. My favourite so far was the story of the old man who Jacobs was forced to throw pebbles at in Central Park to uphold the biblical rule to "stone adulterers." A close second is the ritual of stealing a pigeon's egg - quite clearly outlined as a rule in the Bible.
Excuse my lack of zeal for the U.S. Constitution - not being an American and hating guns - but it seems to me that this quest to live by a historic document (the U.S. Constitution) that has been taken out of context by the passage of more than a hundred years, is not far removed from Jacobs' liberated pigeon egg. Which, I would hazard to suggest breaks the "Thou shalt not steal" rule. But, maybe that doesn't apply to pigeons.
I know Americans love their constitution, but when it comes down to it the US Constitution is just a historic document, written by people with different hopes and dreams and needs than anyone alive today.
This 2nd Amendment was written generations ago by men who likely associated the right to carry weapons with the privileged life of the nobility back in Europe. Eighteenth-century European riff-raff couldn't carry guns, and these men wanted to show they were gentlemen. Carrying a gun suggested equal status with nobles. And of course it made it easier to ward off the danger of British invasion - which could still happen at any moment.
The whole situation reminds me of a book I'm currently reading: "The Year of Living Biblically" by A.J. Jacobs. The author tries to live for an entire year without breaking any of the rules of the Bible. His book repeatedly makes it clear that living literally by a historical text results in some ridiculous outakes. My favourite so far was the story of the old man who Jacobs was forced to throw pebbles at in Central Park to uphold the biblical rule to "stone adulterers." A close second is the ritual of stealing a pigeon's egg - quite clearly outlined as a rule in the Bible.
Excuse my lack of zeal for the U.S. Constitution - not being an American and hating guns - but it seems to me that this quest to live by a historic document (the U.S. Constitution) that has been taken out of context by the passage of more than a hundred years, is not far removed from Jacobs' liberated pigeon egg. Which, I would hazard to suggest breaks the "Thou shalt not steal" rule. But, maybe that doesn't apply to pigeons.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Spoils of an ongoing Afghanistan war, in a National Museum?
The National Gallery of Art in Washington DC is currently exhibiting "Hidden Treasures from the National Museum in Kabul." The collection on display was saved from the wrath of the Taliban by the Afghan curator and hidden for several years before being smuggled to Washington for this temporary exhibition.
The artifacts are beautiful, and the gallery has done an excellent job on the show, but something felt distasteful seeing these artifacts in the United States, especially while NATO troops are currently engaging combatants in Afghanistan.
I realize that these artifacts - mostly elaborate gold jewelery -would have been destroyed by the Taliban who seek to carry out their interpretation of the Qur'an. I realize that the American people have an opportunity to learn a little bit about Afghani culture and history. And I realize that these artifacts will one day, God willing, go back to Afghanistan for as a record of the past for future Afghani's.
But, why now?
To argue that the museum is neutral in this conflict is hard to swallow. The Smithsonian - of which the Gallery is a part, is an American national institution. The conflict in Afghanistan is everything that post 9/11 American culture stands for.
It is one thing for the Americans to help safeguard the collection during a time of danger, and entirely another to put it on display. If the tables were turned and the insurgents held the U.S. Constitution in a museum in Kabul, the American people would surely see the situation differently.
I applaud the National Gallery of Art for helping to preserve these priceless objects. But, let's not rub it in anyone's face. It wasn't Andrew W. Mellon who brought these objects here. It was bullets. Good intentioned bullets, perhaps. But bullets none-the-less.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Taking Interactivity Into Your Own Hands: Touching in the Museum
"Daddy, I want to touch him."
"Him" is a rather large fellow who lived approximately 65 million years ago. In this case, the skeleton of a T-rex standing in the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History.
The young boy's father looks around coyly to check for security and quickly picks up his son. Excitedly, the boy reaches over the Plexiglas barrier and places his hand on the dinosaur's leg-bone. His eyes light up.
We learn by touching. Babies are the best evidence of this. They'll put things in their mouth that even the dog would turn its nose up at, just for the chance to learn a little bit about an object.
This boy, now about six years old, has graduated from licking things he wants to learn about and has moved on to touching them. And I can't say I blame the kid for his choice of object to touch. If he is anything like I was at 6 years old, he knows that the T-rex is the most scarriest, most meanest dinosaur ever, and it could chomp him in one bite. Who wouldn't want to touch him while he's in this less harmful, yet awe inspiring state?
It will be many years before he realizes that the leg he touched was made from a mold. Meanwhile, that experience he just had will remain the coolest, most precious thing he's ever touched - until he gets married, and not a day sooner.
After about a half-hour in the dinosaur exhibit, it became clear to me. People want to touch what they see in the museum. They want to connect with it in some way. The little boy and the dinosaur now have a relationship: they touched once. And if they ever meet at a cocktail party, at least they'll have something to discuss.
What is more, on the most fundamental level, the little boy turned what was a static display into an interactive experience. Sure, not too much happened to the casual observer, but for the little boy it was magic.
I saw evidence of this touching all over the Natural History Museum.
This object, prominently labeled "Cast" is situated so that the front few teeth on the bottom jaw are within arms reach of anyone over three feet tall. Even though it's not authentic, the teeth have either been created to show extreme plaque build up on these front teeth, or thousands of hands have brushed them over the years, wearing off the paint until only the white cast remained.
I stood and watched for less than a minute and nearly everyone passing this skull touched the teeth. Even the adults who were able to read the sign - or who knew better than to think the Museum would put a real T-Rex skull so carelessly close to visitor's hand - couldn't resist at least grazing the tips of the teeth with the palm of their hand.
Understandable. Dinosaurs are cool; they bring us back to our childhood when we read stories about them and were able to recite endless facts about them to any grown-up who would listen. Did you know that stegosaurus have spikes on their tails and that diplodocus is a plant eater?
However, that doesn't explain this:
This poor couple in the Western Civilizations wing of the museum are in serious need of restoration.
These aren't artifacts, nor do they pretend to be. They don't have nearly the same 'wow' factor as the T-Rex. Nevertheless, thousands of fingers - mine included, have worn away the paint.
I'm inclined to suggest that this is a cry for help by the visitor. The museum has provided such a rich assortment of visual stimuli, that people take the first chance they get to change that up. They touch it.
It's a harmless action that fulfills that need for an interactive experience. It may sound silly, but I would rate my nose-touching experience among the most memorable of my day at the Smithsonian. If nothing else, it was a little bit naughty and it was a change from walking around with my hands neatly folded behind my back.
I must thank the Smithsonian for including these interactive, tactile exhibits. Though they weren't overly complex, they allowed me and everyone with a little boy still inside them to get some pent-up energy out. They gave my eyes a momentary rest, and let me contribute to the slow, meticulous destruction of objects in the museum with just a hint of oil from my fingers.
Oddly enough, there was no evidence of the same wear on text-panels. And nearly all of them were within touching range.
"Him" is a rather large fellow who lived approximately 65 million years ago. In this case, the skeleton of a T-rex standing in the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History.
The young boy's father looks around coyly to check for security and quickly picks up his son. Excitedly, the boy reaches over the Plexiglas barrier and places his hand on the dinosaur's leg-bone. His eyes light up.
We learn by touching. Babies are the best evidence of this. They'll put things in their mouth that even the dog would turn its nose up at, just for the chance to learn a little bit about an object.
This boy, now about six years old, has graduated from licking things he wants to learn about and has moved on to touching them. And I can't say I blame the kid for his choice of object to touch. If he is anything like I was at 6 years old, he knows that the T-rex is the most scarriest, most meanest dinosaur ever, and it could chomp him in one bite. Who wouldn't want to touch him while he's in this less harmful, yet awe inspiring state?
It will be many years before he realizes that the leg he touched was made from a mold. Meanwhile, that experience he just had will remain the coolest, most precious thing he's ever touched - until he gets married, and not a day sooner.
After about a half-hour in the dinosaur exhibit, it became clear to me. People want to touch what they see in the museum. They want to connect with it in some way. The little boy and the dinosaur now have a relationship: they touched once. And if they ever meet at a cocktail party, at least they'll have something to discuss.
What is more, on the most fundamental level, the little boy turned what was a static display into an interactive experience. Sure, not too much happened to the casual observer, but for the little boy it was magic.
I saw evidence of this touching all over the Natural History Museum.
This object, prominently labeled "Cast" is situated so that the front few teeth on the bottom jaw are within arms reach of anyone over three feet tall. Even though it's not authentic, the teeth have either been created to show extreme plaque build up on these front teeth, or thousands of hands have brushed them over the years, wearing off the paint until only the white cast remained.I stood and watched for less than a minute and nearly everyone passing this skull touched the teeth. Even the adults who were able to read the sign - or who knew better than to think the Museum would put a real T-Rex skull so carelessly close to visitor's hand - couldn't resist at least grazing the tips of the teeth with the palm of their hand.
Understandable. Dinosaurs are cool; they bring us back to our childhood when we read stories about them and were able to recite endless facts about them to any grown-up who would listen. Did you know that stegosaurus have spikes on their tails and that diplodocus is a plant eater?
However, that doesn't explain this:
This poor couple in the Western Civilizations wing of the museum are in serious need of restoration.These aren't artifacts, nor do they pretend to be. They don't have nearly the same 'wow' factor as the T-Rex. Nevertheless, thousands of fingers - mine included, have worn away the paint.
I'm inclined to suggest that this is a cry for help by the visitor. The museum has provided such a rich assortment of visual stimuli, that people take the first chance they get to change that up. They touch it.
It's a harmless action that fulfills that need for an interactive experience. It may sound silly, but I would rate my nose-touching experience among the most memorable of my day at the Smithsonian. If nothing else, it was a little bit naughty and it was a change from walking around with my hands neatly folded behind my back.
I must thank the Smithsonian for including these interactive, tactile exhibits. Though they weren't overly complex, they allowed me and everyone with a little boy still inside them to get some pent-up energy out. They gave my eyes a momentary rest, and let me contribute to the slow, meticulous destruction of objects in the museum with just a hint of oil from my fingers.
Oddly enough, there was no evidence of the same wear on text-panels. And nearly all of them were within touching range.
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