Getting the Word Out

From the desk of Colleen Wilson,

Conservator at the Royal BC Museum

Visible light is  a small part of the radiation 
received from the sun.

Although our job is to preserve the museum’s collections, RBCM conservators actually want to preserve everything.   To that end we speak frequently to local groups who have an interest in history and are happy to answer enquiries about caring for the things they collect. 

But too much talking (and writing) cuts into the time we spend actually conserving.  So this summer, in addition to the Discover talks in the gallery by members of the department, there will be eight in-gallery presentations weekly by docents who have had a crash course in Basic Conservation Issues.

These dedicated volunteers will be found in the Old Town, probably in or near the Chinatown streetscape.   They will be recognizable by their out-going and captivating personalities (and possibly their second-hand lab coats); they will be prepared to share information about “Light, Dust and Insects.”

Light (Radiation)

Visitors frequently comment on the low light levels in the exhibits.  Placing our treasures on display means that people can enjoy and learn from them, but the risk of loss from light damage is great.  Light damage is irreparable (once faded a colour is gone) and cumulative (more exposure means more damage); we frequently have to choose between exposure and preservation.

Part of a quilt that was 
protected from 
overexposure to light

The same fabric 
from an area  that 
was in direct sunlight.

Dust

Conservator Kjerstin Mackie 
dusts John Lennon's 
Rolls Royce weekly.

Dust presents two problems in the Museum:  it makes the exhibits look … dusty.   And removing it is time-consuming, expensive and hard on the objects.  Although open exhibits are much more engaging, they are much more likely to get dusty – the forest and seashore dioramas look quite a bit less convincing when covered with lint and fluff.  But removing the dust has to be done extremely carefully, particularly in the artifact-rich settings of the Old Town.  Cleaning can be risky for materials that were not designed to be wash-and-wear, and it is essential that only dust that has fallen in the museum be removed; soil that is part of the artifact can contain valuable information.

Insects

In our temperate climate, insects are an ever-present threat.   Some arrive with potential donations, some come in with floral décor, some hitch-hike in on visitors fresh from the garden.  Once inside the Museum they seek out their preferred food groups, but they can gain sustenance from food scraps along the way.  Part of our Integrated Pest Management strategy are weekly patrols of the windowsills to remove dead flies (that could provide a strengthening meal for protein eaters); detailed examination of all flowers and props that are used in the galleries; and a ban on casual food and drink above the ground floor.

Moth larvae have dined on the wool cover of this 
WW1 water bottle.

The volunteer presenters will have examples to share, equipment to test and explanations for much that is not apparent to the average visitor.   They will have suggestions for things to look for in the galleries, and recommendations on how to care for treasures at home.  Best of all, their enthusiasm is sure to inspire visitors with a greater understanding of the complexities of preserving our cultural heritage.   

Underwater Cables and Canadian Innovation

From the desk of Sean Rodman, 
Strategic Partnerships Manager 
at the Royal BC Museum



As you surf along the internet, take a moment to ponder the signals that are transmitted along the tangle of wires and cables from your computer. Those cables stretch out and around the world, making the internet possible. But the idea of a global network of cables for communication isn't a new one. In fact, it's 133 years old. And, in the wake of July 1st, it's also a very Canadian story.

In July, 1898, the "All Red Route" was born. A group of representatives from Great Britain, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand decided that a cable communications line would be created that would completely circle the globe. It would run only though the countries of the Commonwealth, hence the "All Red" moniker. Remember - we're not talking about fibre optic cables, but copper. This was an earlier information revolution, allowing the transmission of dots and dashes over land and under sea.

"The All-Red Line Around The World"

Canadian visionary Sir Sanford Fleming had actually pitched the idea back in 1879, but it wasn't until nearly 20 years later that his plan came close to being completed. The last piece of the network of cable to be laid was the run from the west coast of Canada, under the Pacific to surface at a small island in the middle of the ocean. From there, onwards to Australia. And from there, the line would connect with existing cables across Asia and back to Great Britain.

"Cable Station, Banfield, Vancouver Island, BC"

After various expeditions up and down the west coast, the location for the starting point of the trans-Pacific submarine cable was decided upon. Bamfield, here on Vancouver Island, would be home to the Pacific Cable Board (PCB) Cable Station. In 1901 the cable ship Colonia set out from Bamfield to lay over 4,000 kilometers of undersea cable line to Fanning Island, a speck in the ocean some 1,600 kilometers south of Hawaii.

Meanwhile, construction of the cable station proceeded. The job fell to Francis Mawson Rattenbury, superstar architect of his day. He was also responsible for many of our province's famous landmarks including: the British Columbia Parliament Buildings, the Empress Hotel and the Vancouver Courthouse.

On November 1st 1902, the first telegraph message to encircle the globe travelled around the All Red Route. Sir Sanford Fleming sent, and recieved, the message in Ottawa.

Wally II's Test Crawl

Today, communications cables continue to play an important role in bringing our world together. And Vancouver Island continues to be on the cutting edge: the University of Victoria has created the Neptune and Venus projects, which laid cables of "underwater observatories" across the sea floor. You can watch, live, what's happening 800 metres down.

If you want to dig deeper into the history of underwater cables, come down to the Royal BC Museum. On our 3rd floor, we have a display of cables and the first telegraphs to be sent along the "All Red Route."

Seeing the Big Picture with the Big Map

From the desk of Sean Rodman, Strategic Partnerships Manager at the Royal BC Museum

If you've visited us recently, you must have seen the Big Map in our lobby. Stretching almost 8 metres from floor to ceiling, it's an amazing snapshot of British Columbia.

Where did it come from? Back in 2005, the Big Map was unveiled as the world’s first three-dimensional map of British Columbia based solely on satellite imagery. It is exceptional in detail and dramatic in size. The map provides a never-before-seen perspective on our home. Coupled with a dramatic overlay of movies and digital animation, the map demonstrates an exciting new way to tell the stories of British Columbia and its people.

The Big Map under construction in 2005

Since its opening several films have been produced to play on the big map including First Peoples, Climate Change, and Water. In addition to the movies, the digital animations that play on the map are often a huge draw for visitors. These animations illustrate the size of our province and relative population through direct comparison to other countries. I was surprised to see Ireland or Taiwan tuck neatly into the outline of Vancouver Island: somehow I always think of us as tiny in comparison to these international heavyweights!

Even if you can't visit in person, we can now give you a sample of the Big Map online. Recently we transported the digital animations to the internet. Click here to enjoy them!

Completion Anxiety

From the desk of Tim Willis, Director of Exhibitions and Visitor Experience at the Royal BC Museum.






Bring on the microscopic violins and tiny hankies. We are approaching the opening of a new exhibition (Behind the Scenes) and I’m finding it hard being an Exhibition Director. I mean, what can I do to help… other than utter words of encouragement? ‘Well, you could pick up a paint brush,’ I hear you say.

What I’m trying to say is that the final weeks before opening an exhibition are – for me – a mix of pleasure and pain. I have been known to wax lyrical about the glorious symphony that is the last movement before opening - when all the parts come together. But what I feel is tense.

I’ve been part of more than 80 exhibition projects and it never… ever… gets easier. There is always a moment as you tour someone through the exhibition under construction when you just know they are thinking ‘they’ll never get it open in time.’

It’s true that there is a real joy in seeing so many talented people – designer, model makers, fabricators, carpenters, technicians, painters, curators – working toward one objective. But progress is not linear. Progress is in waves and sometimes the tide recedes rather than moves forward. It seems to go something like this:

Stage 1: A Blank Canvas
The hall is empty except for a few forlorn display cases and some apparently discarded light fixtures. All is promise.
Feeling: anticipation – it’s going to be fun to see this come together. (Image below: The blank canvas.)

Stage 2: Construction Site
The exhibition hall is in chaos. Paper, carts, tools, pieces of display furniture. No form… just pieces.
Feeling: trepidation – OK, let’s be honest – fear.

Stage 3: Emergence
Out of the confusion emerges a glimpse of the original design vision. Some large graphics are installed. There is art amidst the chaos.
Feeling: confidence – a response to the waves of relief. Man, this is going to look great. Aren’t we brilliant?

Stage 4: Stasis
What’s going on… days have passed… or are they weeks? Everyone’s working – but nothing’s changing.
Feeling: worry.

Stage 5: Reverse Gear
Cases are dismantled to make changes, display lighting is turned off.
Feeling: return to fear. We’re never going to make it!

Stage 6: Hallelujah!
Display lighting is turned on; some cases are sealed; interpretive labels are even appearing.
Feeling: Salvation. We are going to make it… I knew we would. Aren’t we brilliant? (Image below: an exhibition emerges.)

Hidden Treasures

Captain Cook

Do you have a favourite hidden treasure in the museum? The Woolly Mammoth, I suspect, tops many lists. The train station, with its chirping crickets and rumbling locomotive, is another popular choice.

My personal favourite is a little more grisly: a celebrity murder weapon. Let me back up about 240 years to explain.

On this day in 1770, Captain Cook sailed into Botany Bay and became the first European to reach the east coast of Australia. This was part of the young captain's first major scientific expedition, but not his last. During his journeys, Cook was to lead his ships all over the Pacific Ocean: south to the Antarctic Circle, north to the Bering Strait. He has become known to us as one of the greatest of explorers.

His expeditions came to an untimely end in 1779. During a visit to the island of Hawai'i, Cook and his men quarrelled with the local inhabitants. During the fight, Cook was stabbed to death on the beach.

Fast forward to today. Tucked away on the 3rd floor of the Royal BC Museum is a life-size replica of the "HMS Discovery" – a ship that sailed with Cook on his final voyage, and later with Captain George Vancouver. In a display cabinet nearby are a variety of objects related to explorers from the age of sail. Nestled near the front is a small wooden knife. It's unassuming. Tiny. But like many objects within the museum, a small thing can link you back in time and space to world-changing events.

This is believed to be the knife that ended the life of Captain Cook in Hawai'i. There's a bit of mystery around the authenticity of the artifact, and many questions about the actual events that lead to Cook's demise. If you're interested in learning more, check out the links below or contact us directly. Better yet, come in for a visit and see the knife for yourself. While you're here, find a hidden treasure for yourself in the Royal BC Museum.

Links:

• A quick introduction to the life and times of Captain Cook


• An interesting exploration of the death of Captain Cook

Slowing Down Real Life

This is my first blog entry. I’m going to write about the stresses… and joys of creating exhibitions.

Maybe there are only a few of us ‘exhibition geeks’ who think that what we do might interest others. But I hope that the strange world in which questions like ‘how do you simulate French fries?’ and ‘can you mould a slug?’ are commonplace, might be of some interest to others.

Our business is unusual. There are few professions that stretch so far between art and science, academia and showbiz, business and pleasure. In fact, are there any? Indeed, the very way we develop exhibitions seems to be fraught with paradox – is it science or art… education or entertainment?

I’ll try to focus on projects that we are working on right now, and give a glimpse of the magic and the confusion of this work.

I’m going to start with an exhibition called Royal BC Museum: Behind the Scenes. It opens on June 25. In it, we turn ourselves inside out to expose the work we do… behind the scenes [quelle surprise!]. Part One will run for more than a year and focus on the work of our Natural History staff. Part Two opens in 2011 with a focus on Human History.

How odd that for this inaugural post on the topic of contemporary exhibition challenges, I turn to one of the most traditional of museum art forms – the diorama. Not the great sweeping spectacles of the American Natural History Museum or the forest and coastal dioramas of our own museum, but tiny dioramas starring slugs, goldfish and mosquitoes! (Image below: Colin Longpre’s simulated French fries are a hit with starlings!)

A few years ago, I learned a big lesson from a small museum. Dioramas don’t need to be epic in scale. In fact, being tiny can sometimes focus the attention. The Museum of Jurassic Technology in Los Angeles is a lesson in the power of great storytelling in miniature.

I think dioramas are exquisitely interesting. They are low tech in a world of digital showiness. And yet, there is something compelling about them, even in the digital age. They are masterful representations of life in the original 3-D. Visitors love them for their clarity, their apparent reality and for the skill of the diorama artist. And maybe in a world where life is fleeting, transitory, and intangible, the diorama provides a welcome respite. Dioramas let us slow down and wonder. (Image below: Kate Kerr does a little miniature farming.)

To the challenge at hand – Behind the Scenes will feature a special presentation on the topic of invasive species. Our curators presented a menu of 30 invasive species as the focus. Now… we have a very talented and resourceful exhibitions team, but I have to say that the first reaction as they got their assignment was less than enthusiastic. Let’s face it… sometimes the subject of the show is not exactly movie star material... slugs, mosquitoes, starlings, goldfish… I mean, come on! But this is where the magic comes in. The creative process sometimes needs a few days of gestation… and before long our wonderful team of Exhibit Arts Technicians had started to mock up a whole series of scenes... miniature snapshots from life. I think the mundane nature of the topic became the very challenge. What I love about what they have done is how they resisted the temptation to use media and accepted the challenge of creating a world in three dimensions. And I love that the scenes are not the pristine visions of nature that the old dioramas represent… but rather they are about nature and us… starlings and French fries.

Tim Willis

Recommended reading and other links:

Great article: Diorama-o-rama by Jesse Smith

Great book: Windows on Nature: the great habitat dioramas of the American Museum of Natural History, Stephen Quinn

Great visit: the Museum of Jurassic Technology, Los Angeles