Genevieve Hastings
Professor Paula Levine
Art 511
5 December 2011
Technology and Wonder
As a child I would wander through the overgrown expanse of land (what I would later come to know as an acre) behind our house. The barn was far to my 9 year-old-eyes and past the barn, up the hill, to the edge of property seemed like an insurmountable distance. One day, while trekking through the waist-high dried grass, I caught sight of something slightly protruding from the ground. I carefully brushed the dirt away, inspecting my new treasure with all the skill of an archeologist. It was a genuine arrowhead used 100's of years earlier by the local Native American tribe, the Nisenan (we had just learned about this tribe in school). As I stood and brushed the dirt from its surface, I was certain an epic battle had occurred in that very spot. Braves had battled and died, heroes were born and lovers had perished while others had returned home. Yes, I was certain I had discovered in this tiny arrowhead half-way buried in the ground, an entire history; or it could have been a rock, it didn't matter. For weeks I constructed bows out of branches and twine, and kept my artifact placed in the center of my knick-knack shelf so everyone could view it.
This object was weighted by years of history (I'd formed in my mind) and the narrative I ascribed to it. Those hills I explored as a child were integral to the narrative I constructed; had I been at the
beach, the object would have held another meaning entirely. In this paper and for this art piece, I will be exploring the importance of “place” to construct a narrative and the use of QR codes to create a Wunderkammer inspired catalogue of information which will guide the viewer to constructing their own narratives for the objects included in the Cabinet.
The Wunderkammer in German literally means “wonder chamber”. It is defined as a “collection of marvelous things” (Arnold 50). During the Renaissance, wealthy and learned individuals amassed collections of artwork, scientific and technical objects, and natural wonders from around the world, which they gathered together and housed in a separate room. These collectors, collected objects from across the world, bringing technological advances together with rare artworks, cartography, botanical objects and little known zoological species. They were interested in the intersection of art, science and technology. Large collections of disparate objects would line tables and fill cabinets. Taxidermied creatures would cover every inch of the ceilings. Framed paintings would cover the walls, while sculptures were scattered throughout. Early automatons sat next to microscopes and paper weights. Not unlike my knick-knack shelf, objects were generally placed closer to the center of the cabinet or table based on their importance with more empty space surrounding them giving the viewer ample time to reflect on the object's importance. Visitors could interact with the objects, wandering through the collection discovering things they had likely never seen before. The sense of discovery and “wonder” these collections inspired were key to the collections. The main goal was to discover and collect rare and unique objects and to display them in a way that would create order out of chaos (Mauries 67). This desire to impose meaning on these collections of objects by creating ordered display cases, and by framing, labeling, and cataloging them, created systems and hierarchies which were central to these Wunderkammern or Cabinets of Curiosities.
The catalogue was an integral component to the collection. Objects in the collection would be titled, and histories/ narratives of how and where they were obtained were recorded. The place of acquisition was generally key to forming a narrative about the object, especially with natural wonders (animals, plants, shells, and coral). The effectiveness of the narratives in these catalogues “rested heavily on the collector's practice of spinning good stories about their objects”, which was rooted in the objects themselves (Arnold 251). These “spun” stories although based in fact had an element of whimsy to them.
Archiving this information and structuring it inside a catalogue is a perfect way to create narrative. Gathering information about the objects and locative data creates the framework for a narrative. From there the collector would weave a story with skill and imagination. One such catalogue is the Tradescant Catalogue, from the Ashmolean Museum. Elias Ashmole (1617-1692) was one of the most well known English collectors. Through questionable means, he acquired the Tradescant Collection which he merged with his own and donated to Oxford on the condition that a suitable home for the collection be built (Shiralee). Oxford built the Ashmolean Museum. Part of the collection is now available to view as an online catalogue. Along with the dimensions, the object's origins, and a description and title, is a section for commentary. This section is less scientific and forms a narrative for the objects. This catalogue illustrates that “the bounds of the encyclopaedic enterprise could be extended to include objects both of myth and reality.” (Shiralee). The collector acted as the author and was given artistic reign to mix fact with fiction, to take liberties with the details after the facts were presented. Another such catalogue is by Ferrante Imperato; it records natural objects with scientific information as well as “aesthetic contemplation” (Olalquiaga 224).
As with the tradition of the Wunderkammer, I am interested in the intersection of art and technology. I used QR codes to create a contemporary catalogue that links viewers to a website I've created, containing a narrative about the object as well as google earth maps of the area where it was found. A QR code, short for Quick Response code, is a type of matrix barcode that can be read by smartphones with QR reader software (Webopedia: QR code). The QR code can be used to store contact information, text data, URL's, or geolocations. By generating a QR code and creating a small sticker that I have placed on each “specimen”, viewers are forced to interact with the project by handling the art object, scanning in the code (which links you to a website page, all connected to www.cabinetofcuriosityby
genevieve.com), sifting through facts and stories, and viewing maps. The sense of discovery and viewer participation are key elements in any Cabinet of Curiosity.
The narratives/ histories of these objects lie somewhere between fact and fiction. The Spanish Tarpan is a prehistoric subspecies of wild horse that became extinct in 1909; the last living Tarpan died in captivity in Russia. These are the facts while the rest of the narrative is constructed. Each plant included in the cabinet are plants that fall in the category of cryptobotany, plants that are not proven to exist by the scientific community. They are inspired by local myth (as in the Raskovnik), or by literature (Hawthorne's Rappaccini's Daughter), or are closely related to existing plants (carnivorous plant). Other's are real but seem fictional, like parasitic plants (flowering plants that live off of other plants). There is an element of truth in each story, but also something that lies just beyond the edge of belief, something that can inspire wonder or contemplation.
The place of acquisition for these objects becomes vital to these narratives. By giving an object a physical location it adds validity to a fictional story (Russell). Karen Russell, an amazing contemporary fictional writer gave a lecture titled “The Cartography of Imaginary Places”, in which she argues that when constructing a narrative you need to give the reader something based in reality to help them get their bearings. She calls it the “Kansas-Oz Ratio” the ratio of reality to fiction (Russel). Thus, this sense of place becomes the key element to the collection. The google earth maps of real places allows the viewer to believe at least partially, that what they are seeing is factual.
My ancient arrowhead is lost, but the wonder that inspired me to set sail from my screen door, up a hill, to wade through sharp grass and thistles, to find an arrowhead (or a rock) and assign an entire history to it, to place it on a shelf with other objects that held other stories; this wonder still lives on inside of me. I think about these 17th century collectors sitting in their Wunderkammern looking at old world maps, plotting out the places they had been, and carefully writing stories for the precious objects (including some of the original automatons). Then I see myself dutifully gathering objects, imbuing them with meaning, typing out their stories on my MacBook, taking screen shots of google earth satellite images of places on the other side of the world, and linking all of this information via a small barcode that can be read with a very SmartPhone.
Bibliography
Arnold, Ken. Cabinets for the Curious: Looking Back at Early English Museums. London: Ashgate Publishing, 2006. Print.
Mauries, Patrick. Cabinets of Curiosities. London: Thames and Hudson, 2011. Print.
Olalquiaga, Celeste. The Artificial Kingdom: On the Kitsch Experience. Minneapolis: First University of Minnesota Press,2002. Print.
Russell, Karen. “The Cartography of Imaginary Places”. Tin House. 18 Mar. 2011. Tin House. 3 Dec. 2011. <http://www.tinhouse.com/blog/podcasts>.
Shiralee, Saul. “Wunderkammer”. 2002. 28 Nov. 2011. <http://www.a- website.org/mnemosyne/arrange/pages/6wunder.html>.
Webopedia. 2011. QuinStreet Inc. 3 Dec. 2011. <http://www.webopedia.com/TERM/Q/QR_Code.html>.
