Vancouver
Library Square opening, May 1995.
*free advertisement*
The New Public Library Research Institute
Institut d'artifice:
Researchers? Court jesters? Town fools?
NPLRI busks for discourse.
think-tank n. slang. an institute for theoretical & predictive studies, often combining academic fields
"The NPLRI is a think tank formed in response to Vancouver's bold new architecture... its mission, broadly speaking, is to define and promote an enlightened vision of urban aesthetics and quality of life." Thusly reads the back panel blurb of a three-fold, utilitarian beige questionnaire.
- Funk and WagnallsVancouver publicists Glen Andersen and Tom Thomas report on their presentation conceived for the opening celebration of Library Square, May 26 and 27, 1995.
As the new library neared completion a year ago, we knew we had to be there for the inauguration and free hors d'oeuvres. As civic minded folk and frequent users of libraries we had a stake in all of this. Yet something was preventing us from embracing this grand new repository of infodata and knowledge whole heartedly. That is to say, we knew where we stood on the 70 - 30 split of public opinion. But why exactly was that? We had formed some strong opinions (who hadn't?) based primarily on an unfinished exterior and previously, a scale model. But, as Plato said, opinion is an inferior form of knowledge. And so, to challenge our assumptions, it was incumbent on us to bone up on the nuances of architectural design, urban planning, civic political maneuverings and construction techniques.
Donning hard hats to buffer ourselves from the weighty concrete columns we got a sneak pre-view of the interior of the stage as set for opening day. We conducted handycam interviews with construction workers, security guards, passing pedestrians, librarians, the landscape architect and a tour guide from the 'Friends of Library Square' society. The responses only begged more questions.
The idea for NPLRI and the questionnaire came about as an extension of our probe. It seemed like an ideal mechanism to invite the public to share in our inquiry and have some fun. Could we pull it off with any degree of credibility given our scant resources and non-existent credentials as pollsters? It took a leap of faith that, in the end, was rewarding beyond our expectations. Three hundred and fifty six questionnaire respondents took up our challenge.
Method. Passersby were approached at random with a smile and offered a questionnaire. Return rate on day two improved dramatically when we supplied clipboards, pencils, candies, chairs and qualified prospects by engaging them in a chat.
Notes. Battery powered video monitor (1.) intended to show footage of interviews conducted with construction workers etc. fell dormant due to competition from general din in the plaza (rock bands etc.). Distinctive Vancouver-style ornamental lions provided security for display.
11. Why do you suppose the architect put a ring around the cube?Scrambling, always scrambling. We miss the Friday morning opening ceremonies screwing up by installing ourselves initially on the Robson side plaza. Cursing, we haul the heavy concrete lions and all our paraphernalia around to the front. It takes several trips. Then, a silver lining to our predicament. On the thin stretch where library curvature meets Homer Street we collide with a silver haired man in a navy blue suit. He's also rushing. It's Moshe Safdie! He's arrested by the image on our name tags and buttons pinned to our suit jackets. "I like that," he exclaims. Our first feedback! The image is the main motif in our display, a Canon colour laser photograph of the Roman Coliseum, distorted in Photoshop. Without hesitating I take off my button and give it to him as we ricochet in different directions. Our display features this Coliseum image in a variety of formats including little flags strung on pieces of string connecting the plinths. Repeatedly people are enamored by them, asking if they are for sale (if only we had anticipated that one!). One seemingly well-to-do woman becomes belligerent when I refuse to sell her a copy; I plead we haven't got extras. Really, she wanted us to give her one.
6. Do you read: (too much) (too little) (just right) ?
On Friday afternoon a big suit, walkie talkie in hand, comes by to check us out. At six feet plus he towers over me. Big name tag too: Library Finance. Big silence. I'm nervous for the first time. I can hear his mind turning slowly, coiling, creaking like a medieval rack, WHAT---THE---FUCK---ARE---YOU---DOING?...I stammer something about asking questions, doing a public service...etc. He just stares at our display. Then he levels his gaze directly at me and asks if I have a business card. I flash a million dollar card featuring the bent Coliseum in colour. His eyes dart from card to display and back. He nods, then walks away.
7. The previous library outlived its purpose after approximately 35 years. How long do you think the new structure will last?
Any "structural" concerns here should be with the question itself, point out a couple of astute respondents. Clearly two different questions. Someone notices a typo, a missing "c" in "high school," question #3 which seeks to establish respondents' education level. It's embarrassing but innocuous enough. More unforgiving is another typo which I discover to my dismay days later while sifting through the returned questionnaires: a missing "n" in "questionnaire." A professional marketing pollster takes 25 minutes to fill out the questionnaire then hands it to me shaking her head sadly. "Poorly formulated questions," she claims dryly. I feign surprise, then boast it took us barely 48 hours from concept to printer's ink. "It shows" she continues relentlessly dead-pan. "Aw, com'n, don't you just love how we let people off the hook on that last question?" I'm determined to have a peer-to-peer meeting of minds. She turns her back, head still shaking.
16. What other amenities would you recommend? (Burger King) (Wendy's) (McDonald's) (other?) On the second floor? (yes) (no)
Two men size us up with uncanny swiftness. They insinuate themselves with knowing glances, their forthright manner at once chummy and menacing. For the second time I'm nervous. Who ARE these guys? Undercover cops? Secret Service agents? I explain redundantly that we're doing research handing them a questionnaire. They're not about to play ball. The shorter of the two scoffs that they are research pros and are in fact researching us. I'm flattered. He says they've got the inside story on a corporate agenda that's taking over the library. The other guy drops a 5 inch computer floppy disk in our drop box. It purportedly holds some explosive information. Before leaving, shorty is in my face insisting I take down some names from activist circles he's involved with. I play ball; scribble in my notebook.
17. Is the women's washroom capacity adequate?
Saturday noon. A casually dressed man has come up from behind me and taken a questionnaire. He looks familiar but I can't place him. With him stands a beautiful, deeply tanned woman, arm over his shoulder. A charismatic, Mediterranean looking couple are also huddling in close. A lively exchange ensues about the nuances of some of the questions. He takes exception to "cube-shaped" in # 10, draws a box saying it's a "cuboid." Then, the shock of recognition reverberates in my brain, it's the architect himself, Moshe Safdie! Glen drops back angling for a photo so as not to disturb the delicacy of the moment. When we get to #17 the cat is out of the bag. I quip that as a man he's not qualified to answer with certainty. Answering the question in the affirmative he pronounces that he IS because he's the architect. He scribbles "unfair" and "outrageous" on the last two questions, pulls away laughing and disappears into the entrance vortex. His entourage (family?) lingers for a few moments, smiling at me bemusedly. They ask for a few extra questionnaires.
19. How is the historical allusion to violence reconciled with the notion of contemplation intrinsic to the function of libraries? (appropriately) (not) (don't care)
(optional essay: max. 500 words)
Two women snap up questionnaires. One jumps right in while the other, a prominent Vancouver artist, checks out the scene. Number one, becoming increasingly confused, complains about the questions. She denounces #19 as pretentious. I explain that it is valid because several people had raised this issue prior to reading the questionnaire. The topic was obviously on the public's mind. Next, her famous friend launches into the questionnaire ticking off the answers with gum chewing panache. When she gets to the end she explodes in a fit of revelational laughter. She's hysterical. "This is a piss-take," she yells, her laughter taking on an ugly, rueful tone. She rips up her questionnaire crumpling it into a tight ball, hurls it onto the pavement. For a few moments everyone stands around laughing nervously. There's a look of betrayal in the prominent Vancouver artist's eyes. Who is betraying who?
20. How do you feel about the symbolic collapsing of literacy and spectacle as suggested by the choice of this design?
(optimistic) (pessimistic) (disagree with wording of question) (strongly)(optional essay: max. 1000 words)
Throughout the two days CBC camera crews hover tentatively like hummingbirds, ignoring us except for our balloons, presumably used to colour match some other scene. After dozens of passes within metres of our display, their neglect takes on heroic proportions. City councilor Gordon Price stops by in his emblematic bicycle attire. His jaw drops when we tell him Safdie did the questionnaire. He concedes that the selection process may well have resulted in a 'victim of own success syndrome.' Did politicians pander too much to public opinion? Did Vancouver really get the best bang for its books? Rick Scott, a paid entertainer for the celebration takes a break wandering our way. He's quick to compliment. We talk heartily about our common street performance background. Another paid performer, a clown, fills out the questionnaire. He delights in #1 which solicits the sex identity of respondents. He ticks off the "non-gender specific" option, grinning it was tailor-made for him.
A grand total or 356 filled out questionnaires came back (48%). By mail: 6. We had hoped for 5% at best. Sole incentive offered was All-Sorts licorice candies (while they lasted). Many respondents were observed taking 30 minutes and up to answer the 20 questions. Margins were liberally scribbled on. One essay was attached by a female composer/teacher. Other occupations listed were librarian, urban planner, architect, accountant, engineer, student, nurse, artist, poet/farmer, truck driver, paper boy, home maker, programmer, professor, writer and surgeon. Surgeon's annual income: $400,000. Full tabulation of results are pending...
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