My beloved 770s, nice and messy, just as they should be, because someone has been rifling through them.
I have had my nose down in the library
lately. When I say the library, it’s actually been a few. The one I’m in now at
Goldsmiths is warm and welcoming, with lots of space for collaborative work and conversation, as
well as quiet spaces for individual study. The library is open 24 hours a day
(respect to all the students who venture out in sub-zero temperatures overnight.)
There is even a café inside the library to help fuel study.
In my first visit to this library I was
impressed by the adaptive learning
technologies suite, the academic assistance labs, the student IT help desk, the café, the AV loans,
the multitude of BYOD (Bring Your Own Device) work stations and the digital editing suites, but I still found something missing. It wasn’t until my second or even third visit that I found
it. Through a discreet entrance at the back of the building, I came across two floors
of glorious books all about art, design, photography, music, theatre, media, and more. You know, paper books. Breathing a huge sigh of relief, I went straight to the 770s, where I always
feel at home, no matter where in the world I am.
At the moment I am reading, ingesting, compiling
and drafting informaton for my major assignment. I'm out in a large open study
area, alongside 100 or so other students. When it comes time for the pedantic refinement of my paper, you will find me in the sparsely-occupied book part of the
library, with its church-like atmosphere, book-smell I have loved since childhood, and stunning views over
London.
Museums and libraries share much in common,
and in their early iterations, both often reflected the same lofty ambition of
holding all the world’s knowledge under one roof. Concepts of archiving
knowledge and ideas, of collecting, and of caring for the objects that contain
this knowledge are found in both the museum and the library. It is no co-incidence then, that Britain's Arts Council, which allocates funds to cultural organisations in the UK, has in its remit, the arts, museums, and libraries. (Side note: the Arts Fund here is generated via a national lottery scheme.)
Public Museums date from the late 18th
century- think the British Museum and the Louvre. However as Hans Ulrich Obrist
points out in his wonderful book Ways of Curating, they also existed in ancient times and the term ‘museum’ derives its meaning from a place that is consecrated to the muses. He reminds us that the world's oldest known museum is the Library of Alexandria. Orbist also tells us that by the
time of the Renaissance “scholars were using
‘museum’ to refer to any place or object- a study, a library, a garden
an encyclopedia-where items were collected for learned study.” (Orbist pp 42-3).
Orbist notes that in Renaissance times, the museum was positioned as an objective* collection, and one that dcumented the past. In the 19th, 20th,
and 21st centuries the notion of the museum continued to shift and
evolve. For now, knowing as you do that in the Renaissance at least, a museum could be a
garden, a room, or any place really, as long as it was intended for learned study, I have some questions for
you. What does your private museum look
like? Where does it sit in your home? What part of the past does it archive?
What organisational system or taxonomy have you implemented? What is the name of your museum? Do you have
something in the past you need to study? Will you allow it to have its own tiny
museum? *(I free you from the burden of objectivity, as my site visits continue to show me that objectivity is a highly subjective matter.)
For me, today I am wondering if someone in the future wants to visit the 770s, will they go to a library, or will they go to a museum?