Week Four: Let's Talk About the Cuttlefish in the Room...
But before we get to that,
let’s see where we’re at, shall we?
This was our state of mind on
Monday:
 |
| Me.me |
And this was our state of mind on Friday:
 |
| Me.me |
Thank you, Bon Jovi, for summing it up quite nicely. It was a long week, but totally worth it! To keep us in our aforementioned zones, we rely heavily on music, anything from rock to Indie to ambient sounds to Disney, and everything in between. The latter, actually, is what held most of our attention toward the end because it was easy to enjoy but also tune out because we’d all grown up with those songs. In fact, many things about this week can be explained with song titles and lyrics…
Okay, let’s get down to business. Our weekly tour started with something odd, and that’s saying a lot coming from this group. To get to our destination on the fourth floor, we had to take the only man-operated elevator, which was both really cool and slightly terrifying all at once.
Keara,
concerned with her safety and jealous of the posh digs. Rough life, with a heater, multiple comfy chairs, a
radio, a desk (not shown), a computer (not shown), a newspaper, a backpack with charging cords and
probably food…
Dina Langis from the
Exhibitions Department showed us a mock up room first. This is where a scale model of a new exhibit
is housed and where writers, designers, and artists let their imaginations run
wild in creating a whole new world for visitors to eventually explore. Already having a background in this area, I
could appreciate the time and skill behind each exhibit.
Dina explained that the
conception of a new exhibit began with the administration giving a broad theme;
let’s say The Silk Road
(an exhibition done in 2009-2010). From
there, a lot of research is done on the topic, covering many facets of the theme. After that, the team brainstorms ideas on a
paper floor plan.
That done, artists fabricate
the scale model and everything within, writers create the content, graphic
designers factor in the overall layout and design, and media experts tap away
and how best to serve it to the public.
It isn’t all artsy though; curators and scientists work alongside the
right-brainers to give the correct information and ideas on how to present
it. There is an art to the science and a
science to the art.
On our way back to the
elevator, we noticed the vast array of hallways and spaces that he hadn’t
explored. You’ve seen pictures of the
random assortment of unclaimed baggage at airports? Yeah, it looked like that, but way cooler
since every piece had a story behind it.
Up we went to the fifth floor to see the studio, and we were not
disappointed. Everywhere you looked,
there was something to grab your attention, be it tools, works in progress, or
something that shouldn’t be there but adds to the charm of the large workshop,
like casts of noses. Yep, noses.
 |
Top,
middle two: showing the nose casts of various animals from rhinos to whales to
sheep, oh my. Bottom: showing some of
the taxidermy in the 50s and 60s under the watchful snout of an aardvark.
I guess it only fits that the
room we were in used to be used for taxidermy back in the day.
We asked Dina what happened
to retired exhibits, and she explained that most would go on to travel for a
length of time, usually months to years, and then they’d be put into
storage. If it was clear that the exhibit
wouldn’t see the light of day soon, the department kept some parts of it that
could be recycled and reused, some parts might be given to
other—semi-reluctant—departments, and still other parts could be sold to staff
or even higher-ups at a lower price.
Dina also explained the
importance of accuracy in everything they do, and recounted a story where one
artists took intense measurements and even counted the number of scales per row
on a fish. Visitors would easily oversee
that, but the integrity of the piece and its craftsman would not be lost.
Though I don’t have CIA-level
clearance to divulge anything, I will say this: The upcoming exhibits will make
you think about your perspective on life, and perhaps even the meaning of your
very existence. So be prepared!
Little did we know, we had a
surprise set for the next day: We were going to chat with Dr. Neil Landman,
Curator of Ammonoids. We had been in his
office before on our initial tour, but he was still a mystery to us aside from
looking him up. With mousy brown hair, an
accent that was purely New England, and dressed for summer, he talked about his
research with Chester’s distant relatives under the sea, going on to talk about
the basic anatomy of the critters and their shells, which was still a mystery
to a couple of the other interns.
 | ||
|
Neil also regaled us with the colorful history of certain parts of the museum, from the crotchety former president who once resided in the very office we were standing in to the ages of both that office (1890) and the collection room in which we were working (1960). Much to Keara’s discomfort, he also explained what went on in the implosion experiments we had come so used to seeing on specimen tags of modern Nautilus; those poor unfortunate souls.
Back to our title: Let’s talk
about the cuttlefish in the room. Others
had them when cataloguing, and I, of course, was jealous. Finally, I got some in a drawer. They were so cool! Not everyone shared my view though. Ryan, Keara, and Alex all thought the texture
was gross and unnatural—how can something completely natural feel anything
but?—while Ernesto and I thought the texture was fantastic. Bushra and Minda weren’t quite sure what to
make of it, so they were neutral with no obvious objection. Picture a piece of coarse-grit
sandpaper. Now, picture that sandpaper
made completely of smooth plastic, bumps and all. It’s really not that bad! And look, the chalky underside even looks
like a topographic map with elevation and everything!
 |
| Smooth yet bumpy surface |
 |
| Chalkier, topographic surface |
In other news, Minda found a
really cool specimen in one of her drawers.
Those miniscule little specks are itsy bitsy (teeny weeny) pieces of
specimen that are specially mounted for SEM, scanning electron microscope,
work.
 |
|
SEM
samples on a pin, mounted in a clay
|
She also found a specimen
that was very clearly in the wrong drawer…
 |
|
I
think Chester recently lost her dentures…
|
Ryan, Keara, and I found happy little clams in some of our specimens…
 |
|
Bob
Ross with our happy little clams; artquid.com
|
 |
|
This
trace fossil is called Rusophycus. It is formed
when the trilobite buries itself under the sand. It’s tracks are left in the sand, and
sediment fills it in while the original material weathers out, leaving the cast
of the trace.
|
As subtly promised in the
first post, here is some “increasingly intricate” origami:
 |
|
Origami
Nautilus shell I made, with live
specimen from mystorybook.com
|
Lastly, our current count of
completed cabinets is 16.9, with one more drawer until we reach 17! We were allotted 30 cabinets for our eight
weeks, so already surpassing that halfway through is quite an accomplishment. Since this post was a tad longer than
expected, here are a couple of our motivational songs, other than
Disney, that will continue to keep us going.
Stay tuned for next week’s post where the subjects don’t need faith,
trust, or even pixie dust to get the job done.
Till then, hakuna matata and enjoy
the selfie of Chester!
Sarah and the Interns
Comments
Post a Comment