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Archive for the ‘Interviews’ Category

Interpreting Indigenous Relationships with Ancestral Landscapes

13 Sep

Jeremy Spoon, Ph.d., Assistant Professor of Anthropology, Portland State University; Research Associate, The Mountain Institute

Jeremy Spoon will be a keynote speaker at the NAI National Workshop in Las Vegas, November 16–20, 2010. His interests in local ecological knowledge, environmental sustainability, mountainous protected areas, place-based spirituality, applied anthropology, and political economy have led him on a unique path to interpretation’s door. His focus on connecting indigenous people and interpretation has taken him from Hell’s Gate National Park (Kenya ) to Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park to Sagarmatha (Mt. Everest) National Park (Nepal), and now to the Great Basin, where he has conducted efforts that facilitate people from seven nations of indigenous Nuwuvi (Southern Paiute/Chemehuevi) to tell their stories in the public forum of interpretation.

What are the principles that guide your current project in Nevada?
I am an applied anthropologist, with a focus on indigenous knowledge of the environment and how and why it changes and what the relevance of that knowledge is to sustainability—environmental, social, economic, and so on. I’ve been in this unique position where I am working directly with Native folks to bridge the gap with land managers in protected areas. My collaborators and I work locally with folks to express their lifeways not only to the land managers but also to the public, and I have always walked that path where I am doing both. I partner with not only interpretive staffs, but also land managers, natural scientists, and Native folks. As an outsider, I am effective in bringing an anthropological tool kit that helps projects become context specific, yet use a local-global perspective; however, I am not from these peoples. Therefore it is imperative to bring an insider perspective through mentorship or co-direction as a guiding voice in any effort. I also think a long-term commitment to the peoples I work with ensures projects are more representative and help reach mutually agreed upon goals.

Chemehuevi participants from the research phase of the interpretive planning project.

The policies of land managers often do not include humans. Customarily, they look at nature as “other than humans themselves” or they create a nature/culture dichotomy. So part of my endeavors is to bridge that gap with the managers on the governance level as well as with interpreters.

What is the significance of the land in the Great Basin?
In essence, we do work with seven nations that live in four states. The Spring Mountains located on the outskirts of Las Vegas, Nevada, is the creation place for seven nations of Nuwuvi or Southern Paiute and Chemehuevi. Each nation considers what is called Mount Charleston or Nuvagantu (“where snow sits”) as the place where humans came into the world. Related are the nearby Sheep Mountains to be culturally connected to the Spring Mountains in the creation story. They are both part of a complex songscape used to assist Southern Paiute folks when they pass away. The soul can be sung across this traditional territory to rest and continue to be one with their traditional lands. This land is equivalent in the Western mind to their Jerusalem or to their holy land.

I learned a bit about this from doing background research and talking to some key folks. Two years ago, the Forest Service, key Nuwuvi collaborators, and I utilized this relationship as the footing to get the nations interested in participating in an interpretive planning project to help protect this special place through interpretation. Empowering a group of tribally designated individuals called the Nuwuvi Working Group, we co-conducted research on what Nuwuvi wanted to share with the public, which is a huge step in negotiation among Native Americans and many other indigenous peoples. One soon recognizes certain information isn’t meant for the public—it can actually hurt people and the land if shared inappropriately.

To some, this land is only a place of recreation and/or a place where folks in Las Vegas build expensive houses. It is not a Native place right now. To fulfill the goals of protecting that place and having it afford a Native identity, we decided as a group to create guiding rules on what was appropriate to share. Then each working group member recruited folks from their respective nations to conduct or participate interviews with us. In turn, we had those individuals bring their kids, so simultaneously we could bring a unique learning opportunity for participants. Then we took that information and wrote a resource guide, which became the basis for the American Indian content for interpretive planning in the Spring Mountains.

From there, recognizing the value in this collaboration, we were invited by the U.S. Forest Service to comment on an Environmental Impact Statement for proposed developments, which utilized our previous research as the foundation for our position. The Forest Service helped assisted in facilitating the process by providing the group an opportunity to comment during the 45-day period to foster relations with the involved tribes.

This involvement evolved into becoming active members of the architecture and engineering team for the building of interpretive facilities. This team includes building and landscape architects, interpretive designers, and many more specialists. We are part of a dynamic team, so we sit with our partners and help them understand our unique perspectives in order to create concepts that are culturally appropriate. Obviously, not all of the interpretation is about the Native story, but admittedly, we have become a pretty big part.

What role have partnerships played in the process?
We sat at the table to develop some of the concepts, and we communicated that information to the Forest Service in a way that wasn’t adversarial as a true collaboration. We had a significant influence on the proposed undertakings identified in the Environmental Impact Statement. Without a doubt, it has been a really nice experience. I applaud the Forest Service for their openness and foresight in bringing the necessary resources to make that happen. To my knowledge, these nations have never before been involved in a project at these levels where they were asked to participate early enough whereby there is adequate time to participate in meaningful ways.

Concurrently, we have a second project entitled the Nuwuvi Knowledge-to-Action Project, which builds on the relationships that were created in the interpretive planning project. The goals of this project were created by the tribes themselves, and we developed the collaborative methodology together. Recognizing the importance and potential for this project, the nations wrote letters of support for us to get the project. This initiative project is being administered through The Mountain Institute, which has become a wonderful international partner and has taken our work to another spectrum.

We think about these projects not just in relation to Great Basin Natives or Southwest Natives, but in terms of global issues of land management and indigenous rights, resource management, interpretation, and tourism. So this project holistically focuses on government-to-government consultation and resource management, both in the Spring Mountains and in the Desert National Wildlife Complex—totaling more than one million acres in southern Nevada.

In both areas are pinon/juniper habitats have been traditionally managed by Nuwuvi for thousands of years using traditional management techniques such as patch burning and what is called whipping the trees—knocking the cones off the trees so they increase the seasonal yields. Nuwuvi know if you don’t harvest from the trees and manage the forest or interact with the land, it is not healthy. There needs to be human interaction for things to remain in balance. This, in turn, challenges the way things are being managed now, which is to leave them alone or do some fire fuel reduction. We are attempting to revitalize the tradition for potential cultural and ecological reasons, but first and foremost, we are trying to standardize consultation methods with the nations that promote opportunities to interact directly with the Forest Service and with Fish and Wildlife on a government-to-government basis.

Today, more than 80 percent of Nevada is federally controlled and ironically is a wonderful thing in that it gives us greater potential to do collaborative projects. If these were all private land, it would be forgotten.

What have the challenges been in working with multiple, disparate organizations and Native American nations?
People know as much as they have been exposed to or are told. It’s really hard to envision innovative interpretation if you really haven’t been exposed to it or you’ve been told, “We don’t do things that way.”

Also, it’s been a challenge to overcome the preconceived opinions that both sides—the federal agencies and the tribes—have of each other. The best way or tool is through building rapport. The way we explain it is through “Big C” and “Little c.” Big C is federally mandated consultation in an understood and acceptable government-to-government manner. So, if you are doing something that involves ground-breaking activities and you need to rely on some government regulation, that is considered a “Big C.” Conversely, “Little c” is actually having relationships with the individuals and having existing rapport built over time.

We argue that you must have mutually agreed upon goals in order for projects to work. You can’t just follow protocol and/or give the appearance of checking the box.  Additionally, you can’t just be friends with everybody without following appropriate government protocols. So to build on past successes, we try to use a balanced approach and walk this line where we can accomplish both.

Where does the funding for the Great Basin project come from?
The interpretive planning and Nuwuvi Knowledge-to-Action projects are funded by the Southern Nevada Public Lands Management Act, referred to as SNPLMA. This fund is comprised of a considerably large sum of money collected by the Bureau of Land Management from selling public land around Las Vegas. Many local federal agencies—Fish and Wildlife, Forest Service, BLM—rely on these funds to support building interpretive facilities or other needed improvements.

Who is your target audience and how does that affect the planning process?
How do you approach the folks of Las Vegas and give them an experience? The demographic of the people who visit protected areas is diversifying.  In the past, research identified largely middle-class Euro-Americans, I think at the 95 percent level, mostly doing recreational activities. Today, a lot of that has changed. We are seeing more class-based than ethnic, but I do think some ethnic groups are more represented than ever before. There’s a good amount of Latino, African-American, and Asian-American visitors. And the Native American presence, which is unique and thousands of years old, is gaining the recognition it deserves. Lots of people go up there for all types of reasons, from traditional ceremonies to recreation to gathering with family.

Admittedly, it has been interesting working with consultants who aren’t as familiar with multicultural perspectives or that different visitorship. To the credit of the Forest Service and the current architecture and engineering team, this group is becoming aware and respectful of our process. There has been a big challenge for me to understand the diversity of opinions. I must use this to bridge the gap among the culture of interpretive planning and to communicate the process appropriately to the tribes. I am continually positioning myself right in the middle. I found it doesn’t work if you don’t or can’t translate to both sides.

It has been a really interesting undertaking to think about interpretation in a multicultural way with multicultural stakeholders at the planning table and not just at the receiving end. The culture of planning needs to be regularly adjusted, which is a welcome challenge for me.

How does your personal philosophy affect the projects your work on?
I am an anthropologist who is dedicated to the areas and people where I work. I am not interested in moving on once this is done. I don’t think it has an end. It is a life-long experiential journey. I am really interested building collaborative culturally appropriate management strategies for these landscapes and having lots of folks back on them with cultural revitalization and education programs. This coupled with cultural exchange is the idea behind the interpretive piece. I also hope to perpetuate the transmission of indigenous knowledge from generation-to-generation about these landscapes.

From my experience with these projects, I learned Nuwuvi want visitors to understand and respect the Native perspective and then have their own personal experience. They want the Native perspective to be respected and to provide inspiration, but they do not want their culture misappropriated.

Lastly, they share their fear of expanded development on their land. It must be protected as their creation place and recognized as such. I believe that Nuwuvi can communicate this relationship to the public in creative and respectful ways that represent their hearts and minds. Once we reach that level and when Nuwuvi take their own children to the land to learn about their culture, we will know we did a good job.

Learn more at www.jeremyspoon.com. Find out more about the NAI National Workshop in Las Vegas, November 16–20, at www.interpnet.com/workshop.

 
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Posted in Interpreting Indigenous Cultures, Interviews

 

Marty Blatt, Boston National Historical Park

06 Mar

marty-blattMarty Blatt is chief of cultural resources and historian at Boston National Historical Park and is vice president of the National Council on Public History.

What is public history?
Public history is history that attempts to be accessible and is done outside the university. It is history that is done in high schools, elementary schools, museums, local historical societies, and National Park Service sites. It also includes documentaries or historical films.

What is your job at Boston National Historical Park and how do you work with park interpreters?
I am chief of cultural resources and historian. In that job, I interact very closely with the interpreters on a whole range of issues. We have a new Battle of Bunker Hill Museum, we have a new Charlestown Navy Yard visitor center, and we are in the process of developing a new visitor center at Faneuil Hall, which millions of people will go through, without exaggeration. In every one of those, I work closely with interpreters. There is a very close interface between me as the historian and the interpreters, and that is really critical for getting the best final result.

How are interpretive programs at historical sites influenced by contemporary political, economic, or social issues?
I can give a particular example. The National Park Service partnered with the Gulag Museum in Perm, Russia, and Amnesty International to develop an exhibit on the history of the Gulag. It opened at Ellis Island, a National Park Service site, and traveled to Boston and around the country. The exhibit dealt with the history of the Gulag, which is something that is not well known in the United States. The Holocaust is a phenomenon that has gotten more attention, and it deserves to get attention here in the U.S., but the Gulag is a very important part of human history, suffering, repression, and the struggle for freedom that is very little understood in the United States. In this exhibit, we talk about the International Coalition of Sites of Conscience, of which the Gulag Museum is a member. The National Park Service worked with this coalition—its interest is in historic site museums. This exhibit deals with the history of repression (and every culture has such a history), exploring the history, but also exploring the contemporary relevance of that history.

History is not static. The study of history is not static, which is a good thing. There is no one true history or historical interpretation. History is a series of interpretations, and interpretations change with different eras, with different values, and with different research and studies that come to light. For example, at the Battle of Bunker Hill Museum, we deal with African-American history in a way that I think is quite interesting. If we had done this exhibit in the 1950s, it would be absent. But there is such an interest in the National Park Service in what has been called untold stories, and in the last several decades in U.S. history scholarship, there has been a real interest in African-American history.

The Park Service commissioned a study called “Patriots of Color,” which looked at the role of African Americans and Native Americans in Lexington, Concord, and Bunker Hill. And with respect to black participation at Bunker Hill, the numbers were much larger, much more significant than had previously been established by scholars. We tell the story in the Bunker Hill Museum of someone named Jude Hall, whom I am sure no one had ever heard of. He was a slave in the Revolutionary period who escapes from his master, enlists in the Continental Army, serves with distinction throughout, and is rewarded with his freedom at the end of the war. He goes to live in New Hampshire, but three of his sons are kidnapped into slavery. So on one level there is just the baseline piece of information that visitors find interesting— that African Americans served in the Continental Army. But beyond that, here is this story of this guy who is a slave, escapes to freedom, fights, earns his freedom through service, and then slavery and inequality obviously are not ended by the Revolutionary War. We just present the narrative of his story and then let people draw their own conclusions.

How has the field of public history changed throughout your career?
It has gotten professionalized and it is treated more seriously within, for example, the Organization of American Historians (OAH), the preeminent group of folks involved in U.S. history—a group largely composed of academics. For some time, I’d say most of the membership looked down at public history. It wasn’t seen as serious. It was seen as something extraneous, and now public historians are much more in the mainstream of the organization. Pete Daniel, who works as a curator at the National Museum of American History at the Smithsonian, is the first public historian to be elected president of the OAH. I think there has been great progress.

Have you noticed a shift in how public history is perceived by the public itself?
The public really looks for and trusts history presented by museums and historic sites as much as any source—maybe more than any other source. The general public has embraced public history for some time. I think that “professional” historians had not but that is shifting, truly a positive development.

What are the important themes at Boston National Historical Park?
The key themes are the definition of freedom, of liberty in the Revolutionary period in U.S. history, and the founding of the nation. We feature the Freedom Trail, which is mainly historic sites related to the Revolutionary period in Boston. Our park also includes Charlestown Navy Yard, which addresses the defense of the nation in the early national period. The USS Constitution, the oldest commissioned warship in the nation, is berthed in the Charlestown Navy Yard, which is a National Park Service site.

We also have Boston African American National Historic Site, which is an independent park administered by Boston National Historical Park. And that site deals with the story of the free black community in antebellum Boston, which is a very interesting story—a story of runaway slaves, the underground railroad, abolitionists, and the creation of the 54th Mass. Regiment, the most notable black regiment in the Union Army in the Civil War. So we cover a lot of ground in Boston.

For more information on the National Council on Public History, visit www.ncph.org. Find Boston National Historical Park online at www.nps.gov/bost.

 
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Mark Carr, AEP River Operations

08 Jan

mjc-formalMark Carr works on public relations, government affairs, and safety communications at AEP River Operations in Chesterfield, Missouri.

What is RiverWorks Discovery?
RiverWorks Discovery is our river education program. We provide the foundation for positive community action for healthy, multiuse waterways by educating children and their families about the commerce, culture, and conservation of the great rivers and their watersheds. Our website is www.RiverWorksDiscovery.org.

We’re part of AEP River Operations, the second-largest dry-bulk carrier on the inland rivers. We handle grain, metals, construction materials, and coal. We have about 2,700 barges and about 70 towboats. We have about 1,600 employees, most of whom work on our towboats. Our people ride 24/7/365, in four-, three-, or two-week trips.

What is the scope of your education program?
RiverWorks Discovery addresses commerce, culture, and conservation education. It is easy to find clean water programs, but it is difficult to find programs on the culture and history of the rivers. And it is very difficult to find out about the history of commerce—what the Native Americans, the early settlers, or the people of the steamboat era moved, or what is currently moving on our waterways. When we started the program about four years ago, we made a conscious effort to talk about commerce, culture, and conservation, all interwoven into RiverWorks Discovery.

What are your objectives in providing these educational opportunities?
Our objectives are to promote community action, and there are a couple of ways that happens. One is through recognition, the appreciation when you see those commercial boats going by, whether they are barge freight, passenger vessels, or something else, that those are integral parts of the community, both from the jobs standpoint and looking backward through time. If you are looking at a fishing vessel, recognize that the Native Americans fished along there, the settlers fished along there.

RiverWorks Discovery’s mission on the cultural side is to help folks understand why towns are along the waterways in the first place. Even cities that don’t have a real maritime focus—like Spokane, Fort Collins, or Columbus—were settled because there was a steady supply of clean water. Generally, Native Americans had a settlement there, then the settlers came in and established their own villages.

It’s important to us that when policymakers are dealing with river issues, the public understands the issues and supports river use. That means locks, dams, and maintenance along the big rivers that support navigation and clean water. Our industry is heavily regulated for clean water, but people mistakenly think that the boats are dirty and pollute. In reality, shipping cargo by boat creates fewer air emissions and fewer fuel spills than rail or truck.

In general, what responsibility do you think that businesses have to provide this sort of education that you are talking about?
Perhaps not responsibilities, but certainly opportunities. If businesses want to be sure that the public understands them, they should use opportunities to talk to the public. If the public doesn’t understand them and they haven’t taken those opportunities, then it is not the public’s fault.

That is the situation we were in a few years ago in our industry. We had public policy issues that we were trying to address. The public didn’t understand our river industry and the policymakers didn’t understand us, either. So we took the opportunity to go out and talk to the public and talk to policymakers through this RiverWorks Discovery mechanism, and we think it is paying dividends for us. We think that people can understand us on a better level than if we just walked in with “PR-speak.” This is hands-on, real-world stuff that kids and families enjoy. Policymakers see that.

What are the venues for providing this information to the public?
We have a tent exhibit that we take out to community festivals, regattas, and school events, where kids can see the maps and images from our history. An interpreter talks about the cargo from past times and now. The kids have a clean rivers pledge that they can make. The interpreter will work with them on points like, if you are mowing the lawn and changing the oil in your lawnmower, don’t pour the dredge out on the grass because oil makes its way into our streams and rivers.

RiverWorks Discovery commissioned storyteller Susan Fowler to develop a story about the rivers and the lives of the people who work out there now. She works with fiber braiding and interprets songs. Kids play the different parts of the tow and the members of the crew. We’re delighted that Susan helps us; she’s phenomenal.

Our team built two 3-D puzzles: a side-wheeler from the steam era and a modern towboat. Each has about 20 pieces. These puzzles are displayed with illustrated banners so the kids can see a historic riverfront with the side-wheeler and a contemporary riverfront with the modern towboat. As the kids work the puzzles, the interpreter guides them through the concepts on the surrounding banners.

We also built a lock and dam toy that is made of heavy plastic and has water storage tanks and pumps. It pumps water into the upstream side of the dam. There’s a working dam and lock chamber. This thing is a pretty good size. It’s roughly eight feet long, four feet high, and a couple of feet wide. It holds about 60 gallons of water. The toy boats are roughly the size of a football. The kids learn quickly, usually before than their parents do. The kids can get in there, get wet, learn something, and have a good time. They can lock through going upstream or downstream, depending on how they control the dam and the lock chamber.

It sounds like most of what you were describing is geared towards children.
We developed our program for kids ages 7–12 because they are old enough to make judgments, think independently, and engage in activities, but they are young enough that our printed materials go home to their parents and grandparents. That was an important part of our community action goal—that adults engage in this community issue. We use our opportunity to get an important story to families.

What has the reaction been from the public since you began offering RiverWorks Discovery four years ago?
It has been pretty positive. We have done pre- and post-surveys and we have gotten qualitative feedback from attendees. We have gotten a lot of encouragement and a lot of positive evaluations. We have dealt with about 150,000 kids and families and it has pointed us in two directions. One direction we are exploring is making a more substantial museum exhibit that would travel around the country. We’d like to show RiverWorks Discovery to millions of people. Second, we may add high school programs. That could help us in policy issues and with making impressions on future employees.

 
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Posted in Interpreting Rivers, Interviews

 

Allen Washatko: Principal, The Kubala Washatko Architects, Inc.

08 Nov

allen_washatkoAllen Washatko is principal and co-founder, along with Tom Kubala, of The Kubala Washatko Architects, Inc. (TKWA) of Cedarburg, Wisconsin. TKWA embraces a design philosophy of “Wholeness,” where the built environment supports and enhances both human activity and natural living systems. The idea of sustainability is a natural extension of wholeness-based thinking and is integrated into every studio project. Current TKWA projects are located throughout the United States and in Costa Rica. In 2007, the Aldo Leopold Legacy Center achieved LEED® platinum and became the highest rated new building measured under the United States Green Building Council rating system. It is the first building certified by LEED as carbon neutral in operation.

What is your role as an architect?
On the surface, we just make buildings and places. Many of them are highly sustainable, such as the Aldo Leopold Legacy Center in Baraboo, Wisconsin. We used to strive to interweave architecture with the human and biotic community, but that presupposes a separation between the three, requiring a joining together. We later realized that a building, to be truly continuous with its surroundings, needed to organically unfold from its biotic and social context. This requires a subtle and accurate understanding of the context. Our success depends on careful perception of the building user’s needs, vision, and culture. At the same time, we must make sense of the physical setting in which the users’ actions will take place. The physical/social setting for the building forms an undivided whole, which we must carefully read. In other words, we need to accurately assess the wholeness from which the building unfolds.

What is “wholeness”?
Wholeness is a difficult concept to fully grasp, and has been a matter of debate for many centuries. Understanding wholeness relates to the way one sees the world, to different modes of consciousness. It is widely acknowledged today that, through the growth of the science of matter, the Western mind has become more and more removed from contact with the true nature of reality. We agree with contemporary thinkers such as Henri Bortoft, who argue that “In contrast [to wholeness], an intellectual approach to scientific education begins by seeing the phenomenon as an instance of general principles.” David Bohm is another contemporary writer who argues that “science itself is demanding a new, non-fragmentary world view, in the sense that the present approach of analysis of the world into independently existent parts does not work very well in modern physics.” Bohm’s central view is that an understanding of the undivided wholeness of the universe would “provide a much more orderly way of considering the general nature of reality.” In the world of architecture, this line of reasoning is best reflected in the work of architect and writer Christopher Alexander, who concludes, “The beauty of a building, its life, and its capacity to support all life come from the fact that it is working as a whole. A view of the building as a whole means that we see it as part of an extended and undivided continuum.”

How does the idea of wholeness relate to interpretation?
We had been developing our studio philosophy and approach for many years before coming into contact with the National Association for Interpretation. At the recommendation of a friend who works as an exhibit designer, we attended our first National Workshop several years ago. We were immediately surprised and excited to discover parallels between our own work and the ideas that form the intellectual framework for much of interpretation. In particular, we found that Freeman Tilden best expressed an interpretive understanding of the concept of wholeness. Tilden’s Fifth Principle states, “Interpretation shall aim to present a whole rather than a part, and must address itself to the whole man rather than any phase.” Tilden observed that “interpretation is the revelation of a larger truth that lies behind any statement of fact.” He also stated that, “true interpretation deals not with parts, but with a historical—and I would say spiritual—whole.” Now if Tilden had stopped merely at this point we would have had much in common. But he goes further and gets even closer to the heart of the matter. He states, “Since most people think of beauty as something perceivable through the eyes alone, here is a challenge for the interpreter. He must take the visitor into that larger sphere of the same quality, which we may call order….” After reading Tilden, we thought, “This is great. Here is a group of professional people who really get it.” Wholeness, in our view, is not merely a summation of parts or a totality. Wholeness equals beauty, meaning, and order. It is the interpreter’s job to understand, and then communicate, the wholeness of a place. We consider it our job as architects to first understand and then to reinforce, and even attempt to help rebuild, the wholeness that exists.

How can architecture support interpretation?
In setting out to develop an interpretive facility, the typical approach begins with a “program,” a document that identifies a list of rooms and spaces that accommodate the center’s needs. These needs are stated in very specific terms, and normally include: size, orientation, adjacencies, intended uses, electrical and mechanical needs, special equipment, furniture, storage, and required built-in accoutrements. The building design then becomes an artful assemblage of the component parts identified in the program as rooms.

We have been wary of this typical design process for many years now. It acts as a highly selective filter, leaving critical information behind. This “normal” way of programming a building excludes the social, spiritual, and intellectual pursuits undertaken by staff and visitors, how it heals a weak environmental fabric, how it allows staff to feel fully engaged and stimulated, how it maintains its stability as a place over a long period of time, etc. It is no wonder that so many of today’s new buildings seem somehow lifeless, leading us to believe that the true component “parts” of a building are not just a set of rooms, but something much more meaningful, accurate, rich, and alive.

In response, we have worked very hard on a concept called “pattern writing.” The idea of a pattern is quite old, emerging from the scientific work and writings of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. Goethe was critical of the way in which the scientific community of his time (1749–1832) observed the natural world. He decried the method of plucking organisms from their context, pulling them apart and cataloging the apparent pieces, using a predetermined vocabulary of terms. He preferred a disciplined method of observation that allowed one to see the organism as it was, in its context, as it lived and changed. What emerged from this kind of observation was an understanding of the real “parts” of the organism: patterns of relationships that described the morphology of the organism as an undivided whole. Aldo Leopold would be proud!

Goethe’s central ambition (according to L.L. Whyte) “was nothing less than to see all nature as one, to discover an objective principle of continuity running through the whole, from the geological rocks to the processes of aesthetic creation. Moreover, this discovery of the unity of nature implies the simultaneous self-discovery of man, since man could thereby come to understand himself better.”

Christopher Alexander has developed the idea of patterns even further, particularly in the area of “aesthetic creation.” His book A Pattern Language has revolutionized our way of seeing, designing, and constructing the built environment.

What, specifically, are patterns?
Patterns are an accurate representation of the essential constituent parts of both the natural and built environments. A pattern describes the necessary relationship between a set of events and an arrangement of space conducive to those events. The two aspects, events and spatial organization, are considered facets of the same undivided whole. One of the curious things about patterns is that they can’t exist in isolation. Their definition is recursive: a pattern is composed of other patterns at the same or smaller scales. And those patterns, in turn, are made of yet smaller patterns and so on. This nested, cooperative, and interwoven structure accounts for the organic nature of the world as we know it. It is a rather accurate reflection of the way the universe organizes itself.

The goal of developing patterns in the architectural realm is to gain a deeper understanding of how a building and its environment can be configured to support both human activity and natural processes in a harmonious way. Writing patterns can help identify the deeper spiritual and emotional values inherent in a place.

One of the great advantages of patterns is that they do not rely on the specialized language of the architect. They communicate information in very clear and simple language that is easily understood by a broad variety of people. A by-product of this clarity is that it helps gain consensus among all stakeholders when specific actions are required. This approach also encourages much better feedback from stakeholders, which is especially important if the process is intended to be an inclusive one where quality of feedback is critical.

How does pattern writing relate to interpretation?
For the typical interpretive facility, the building itself is usually seen as backdrop to the more important work carried out by traditional forms of interpretation, including exhibits, signage, and performances. The building provides basic functional needs of enclosure, circulation, public services, and administration. And most facilities attempt to offer superficial design elements that relate to the broader interpretive message, i.e. rustic lodge features for a wilderness-based center. But in many cases interpretive meaning is not considered carefully enough as an integral part of building and site design. In her book Interpretive Planning, Lisa Brochu notes that “interpretation is often an afterthought, considered only after the site or facility is fully constructed.” We believe that a building and the spaces around it must truly become a more integral part of telling the interpretive story. And we have concluded that the pattern writing process offers the best opportunity for allowing this integration to occur in a meaningful and comprehensive way.

While we have typically employed this process for the design of new buildings, pattern writing can also be a useful diagnostic tool for any type of interpretive center, whether it is a site-based visitor center or a collections-based urban cultural center. Even for an organization that is not contemplating a major facility expansion/renovation, the process of pattern writing can identify weaknesses in the way a building and site support the mission of the organization and offer solutions for making the place more alive, more functional, and more inviting to both staff and visitors.

What were your goals for the Aldo Leopold Legacy Center?
In creating a new facility, the Leopold Foundation hoped to achieve two primary objectives. At a basic level, they wanted more space to meet operational needs now and in the future. At a more fundamental level, however, the foundation wanted to create a facility that was a true expression of its mission. While this is often the stated goal for an organization when building a new facility, the Aldo Leopold Foundation was unique in its commitment to this core ideal.

The foundation’s mission is to advance Aldo Leopold’s concept of a “Land Ethic” as originally defined by the famed naturalist in his influential 1949 book A Sand County Almanac. Leopold’s “Land Ethic” has had significant impact on the modern conservation movement with his reasoning that “a land ethic…reflects the existence of an ecological conscience, and this in turn reflects a conviction of individual responsibility for the health of the land.” Our task as the design team for the Leopold Legacy Center was to create a place where visitors could come into more intimate contact with the land, and to begin to intuitively understand for themselves what Leopold meant by a land ethic.

The goal in designing the new Leopold Center, located near the original “Leopold Shack” on the site where Aldo Leopold died fighting a brush fire, was to create, in the words of Foundation Director Buddy Huffaker, a “high-intensity, low-volume experience” for visitors. By this, he meant a facility that would impart a deeper, more lasting visitor experience than typical nature or interpretive centers that serve large numbers of casual visitors. The Leopold experience, at its best, should instill in visitors a deeper understanding of earth processes and offer the stirring of a profound intellectual and emotional awareness of man’s relationship to the land.

 
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Posted in Interviews, Sustainable Architecture in Interpretation

 

Sam Ham: Using Interpretation to Promote Conservation in the Galapagos

01 Oct
Sam Ham with a whale-watching guide in Mexico.

Sam Ham with a whale-watching guide in Mexico.

Since 1998, Sam Ham, author of Environmental Interpretation: A Practical Guide for People with Big Ideas and Small Budgets, has collaborated with Lindblad Expeditions in strengthening protection of the Galapagos Islands’ natural heritage.

What is Lindblad Expeditions?
Lindblad Expeditions is a long-established, cruise-based travel company. Their biggest vessel holds 80 passengers, and most of them are in the 60- to 65-passenger range. They cruise pretty much all over the world, but their trademark is to go to extraordinary natural and cultural environments.

Lars Lindblad is considered the father, the pioneer, the first adventure cruise operator. He was the first ever to go to Antarctica with tourists, and he believed that adventures could change people, that they were transformative.

How is Lindblad Expeditions involved in protecting the resources of the Galapagos?
Lars is now long passed away, but his son Sven is carrying on this legacy of saving the world. His corporate philosophy is that he makes his livelihood off the special places on Earth, and that if he can deliver an experience that bonds his passengers with those places, they will come to care about them. Sven operates his company and he makes every decision in a way that is consistent with that philosophy. It was this that led him to get in touch with me in 1998.

He had been one of the first actually to operate in the Galapagos archipelago and he was blown away by the place. He developed a fund that he called the Galapagos Conservation Fund, and he set it up to be administered by the Charles Darwin Foundation, the Charles Darwin Research Station, and the Galapagos National Park Service, which is a part of the Ecuadorian National Park Service. He believed that the fund could grow to a size that it could help to pay for protection and conservation projects through donations from his guests.

Among the top priorities is eradication of introduced species, because those islands, like all island ecosystems, are threatened by outsiders that quickly adapt and out-compete the natives who aren’t used to that type of competition. The next thing you know, native and endemic species are extinct. In the Galapagos, 70 percent of the plant and animal species are endemic.

Sven decided that he wanted to do something about that, and he believed that his passengers would want to participate, so he set up this fund to do it. They were raising about $1,800 a week by telling guests on the boats about the fund and asking if they would like to donate to it.

How did your investigations and planning improve Lindblad Expedition’s ability to get guests to better support conservation of Galapagos resources?
My job was to do the research, to identify the messages that they needed to communicate as part of their interpretive program. It’s not fundraising, this is philanthropy. They are different critters. The idea of the interpretive program is to make people care about the place. You do that with powerful thematic interpretation, so the idea was to identify what messages or themes needed to be worked into the interpretive program over the course of a seven-day tour.

I conducted interviews to identify the beliefs that guests had about making a donation to a fund like that. I was interviewing people while snorkeling next to them, swimming between sea lions, and stepping over blue-footed boobies on trails.

After analyzing the data and developing strategic messages, we rolled out a prototype campaign with the slogan, “All Things Lead to the Invitation.” The invitation was nothing more than a photocopied brochure with some text and images. It was placed in the privacy of passenger cabins, so there was no fundraising, no hounding. Guests could decide whether to make a donation to the Galapagos Conservation Fund when they paid their bill—the bar bill, gift shop bill, leaving a gratuity, then the Galapagos Conservation Fund was an option. There was a line that said, “You have already done enough just by being here and coming to love this place, because in the end it will be your love that will matter the most. However, if you want to participate further….”

This is a very special kind of communication because it was aimed at philanthropists. It was aimed at people who were falling in love. This was communication about bonding people to a place and then giving them the opportunity to participate in protecting something they care about. If you can achieve that, they would thank you later for the opportunity. That is the way philanthropy works, as opposed to fundraising.

Were there any surprises in what you found when you did your interviews?
This came up over and over again: One of the key messages is that all eyes are on Galapagos. That is to say, the conservation community worldwide is watching the Galapagos example. There is no place in the world that gets more attention than the Galapagos, and if conservation can’t work there, where can it work?

What was the result of the process?
After I presented the prototype campaign, Sven asked one no-nonsense question that put all of this in its place: “Okay Sam, if we do all of this that you are suggesting, how much will the donations increase?” The guy wanted a figure, and I am thinking, how would I know? Now everybody is looking at me and I bet some of them are thinking, “Glad that is not me, sucker.” I started to mushmouth and kind of had my hand over my mouth, and the next thing I know, “30 percent” came out of my mouth.

When I said that, there was no reaction for a second, and then Sven looks at me and he says, “Okay, 30 percent. That sounds okay, 30 percent.” I took a big sigh of relief.  Now 30 percent became a magic number.

Of course, Lindblad carefully monitors donations to the fund, and by the end of the cruising season in December, the donations had increased not by 30 percent, but by 277 percent. It is a great success story.

What kind of impacts has Lindblad been able to achieve with the funds?
Remember, this is all about protecting a place, particularly an island ecosystem threatened mainly by introduced species. Lindblad adopted an island called Santiago Island, one of the islands in the archipelago where virtually all of the companies stop. On Santiago Island, there were thousands of feral goats and pigs. The goats and pigs were taking out the endemic Galapagos tortoise, and this is the tortoise that the islands were actually named after. They browsed on a particular kind of plant, and the goats were eating the plant. The turtles were starving to death.

So, to save the tortoises and to save the turtles, you have to get rid of the pigs and goats. That costs a lot of money. Well, the punctuation mark to the story is that the last goat and pig that were seen was over three years ago.

The total amount raised so far since the inception of the fund is right at $4 million. The total raised in 2007 was over half a million in one year. The total raised as of July 15 this year is $347,000.  What is happening is the donations are bigger and, of course, that is a huge credit to the Lindblad staff for finding their stride with the face-to-face communication aspects of the campaign.

 
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Posted in Interviews, Sustainable Recreation and Tourism

 
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