 | | | |
| |||
| The remarkable feature of the process of individual discovery, whether of detail or of generality, is that the first taste of success can be addicting. For some obscure reason we, as teachers, are committed to turning on addicts. But potential addicts are not programmable; one never knows who they are or when they are vulnerable. We argue among ourselves: if we do not tell people what they are supposed to find, many will leave with a sense of frustration, but a few will have become addicted to finding more than anybody knew was there. How many frustrated people is one addict worth? Since there is no going back if one gives away too much, we tend to lean toward the more radical answer to this arguable question. And we do have a large number of addicts who come back for more. For the many who feel somewhat frustrated because their curiosity has been aroused but not satisfied, we have persuaded ourselves that we can enrich the museum experience by preparing written, take-home material related to our exhibits. In addition, we should be able to make short topical television programs which use our exhibits as props. The broadcast programs would not be for national distribution but would help people who had visited the museum and who planned to return. We also sell relevant books and reprints in the museum store. This reliance on take-home written material may seem to be a cop-out from the task of designing better exhibits. There is, however, no valid reason for rejecting the abundant use of language, especially if the language is based on the kind of broad experience that people can find in the Exploratorium. We are careful not to be overly wordy in the signs that accompany the exhibits, but, in fact, we have not adequately solved the problems associated with exhibit graphics. Too many words can be intimidating and can discourage people from trusting their own ability to explore and find things out for themselves. It is also true that words can be used to fool people into believing that they have been enlightened. For example, concerns about consumer protection have led to legislation that requires the | ingredients to be specified on medicinal labels. As a result, the disinfectant spray, Bactine, for example, has an unenlightening label that reads: "Alcohol 3.17 per cent, Methylbenzethonium chloride, isooctylphenoxypolyethoxyethanol and chiorothymol." Why should not this information be given in a pamphlet explaining which ingredient serves as bacticide, which as fungicide and which as deodorant? It could even explain why these particular organics are effective, painless, and commercially profitable. Museum curators invariably complain that the public does not read. But I see no reason for a museum to cater to the fact that many people have been put off language by the way it is so deliberately used with dishonesty in commercial and political life. At Ease with Trivia in a Non-Trivial Place The Exploratorium is a good museum because of the care and thoughtfulness with which the exhibits have been conceived, designed, and assembled. But many of the people who visit us stress, and perhaps exaggerate, the importance of the general ambience of the place. Some aspects of this ambience may be essential to our purposes. The remarkable spaciousness of the Palace of Fine Arts hall is certainly unique. It is also vital that we do not fragment the space with walls that define subject matter boundaries. Since we want visitors to explore and invent in a way to which they are unaccustomed, we avoid the usual plethora of written and verbal commands as to how they should behave. We also resist making rules whose sole purpose is to reduce the amount of work or decision-making required of the staff. The most important aspect of the ambience of the Exploratorium may stem from the fact that visitors are never subjected to judgmental discomfiture. They do not feel compelled to decide whether they are supposed to learn something from an exhibit or merely to enjoy themselves. If they stand before an exhibit and say, "Gosh, my eight-year-old child could do that," this remark is made approvingly. It is not the familiar disparaging or derisive statement | ||