THE LIVING GARDEN

A Stroll through the Garden​

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The central purpose of the physical manifestation of the garden was to establish that the 'interface' to a multimedia system was one that did not have to be bound by a 2-D computer screen. This was a manifestation of the argument that the context for content has to be considered in terms of interface and communication design, per se, not only in relation to 'what multimedia technology can do' - something which the current development of the universal desk-top computer and most software tools largely ignores. For example, a full-motion, full-screen video can - functionally - be delivered on a computer monitor, but this is a very different experience than watching a film in a cinema. Whilst there are clearly uses and value in being able to see moving video etc on a computer screen, the experience of seeing Star Wars in 70mm at a cinema is different from that of viewing it in 15fps digital video on a 15 inch 256 colour monitor. And I know which I would opt for, particularly if I wanted to take my son!

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This argument, relating to the appropriate context for content, served as the backdrop to introducing the idea of special-purpose multimedia 'viewers' in the garden area. The Living Garden authoring process - which simplifies and streamlines the creation of messages through the availability of a range of special purpose authoring tools is in effect reversed within a garden. Here separate (though linked) monomedia replay devices are found. The two examples developed for the exhibition were the Echoing Tree, which replayed sound messages, and the Pool of Reflection which reproduced still or moving images.

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The Echoing Tree

When anyone sat on the seat beneath the Echoing Tree a light sensor triggered the replay of a single, randomly selected digital sound recording. The functional purpose of the tree was to show how one play-out device could be seamlessly tailored (via a Key) to replay the appropriate message for an individual, since the possession of a Key and the location of a Keyholder are all that is required to retrieve a message.

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At the start of the week, the messages replayed by the tree were randomly selected from recordings that I had made (the light sensor was connected via a relay to the Macintosh ADB port which 'ran' a Director programme that randomised one of eight different sound recording messages. A long stereo out lead led back out from the computer to two speakers hidden below the tree to give the impression that the sound was emanating from it). The idea of randomising messages was to indicate the variety and kinds of sound-based messages individuals might choose to leave in a garden. However, a number of individual visitors sat down on the seat more than once - and therefore one person might hear two different messages. Whilst, in the Garden-scheme proper, the Key would always control the exact message heard, this randomisation within the installation risked confusing the visitor - 'does this tree simply re-play any old message then?', which led me to select just a single message on replay - a few lines from TS Eliot's The Wasteland.

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This choice of this example of 'difficult' material was deliberate. In part it was chosen as it related to a discussion in the book of the Garden about the practical control and replay of material. But it was also used within the installation as it was an example of the "what is the appropriate manner for delivering 'content'?" question. The point that the installation aimed to make here was that why (rightly so) do we ask questions about the appropriateness of poetry falling from the branches of tree when the same critical faculties seem to be suspended when addressing 'content' which is currently being developed for ‘multimedia’ computers. In essence, the question that I wanted to address was 'are bouncing oranges and morphing tower blocks' - which were the subjects of another project at the Circuit show which I felt to be one of the more bizarre and less challenging do-it-in-Adobe-software-stick-it-on-a-PC-and-no-one-will-ask-any-questions type pieces of work - is stuff like this, more 'suitable' a subject for multimedia than singing-ringing trees?' The award of prizes at the show certainly seemed to say 'yes', although it is a difficult point to raise without 'sour grapes' being quoted back.

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So the purpose of the tree was to serve both as an example of how a public multimedia play-out device can (technically) be transparently tailored to provide a personal experience, and to ask fundamental questions about what multimedia content is, and who and what it is for. Although this mixture of the literal and the metaphorical clearly presented challenges in terms of understanding the work, it was no more 'difficult' than providing a demonstration of how a television set works, but then asking what - in terms of content - should it be used for.

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Maps and Guides

The garden area also included the bug, an intelligent 'knowbot' which I had built to highlight general issues about navigation and control - and also to introduce an element of fun and some showmanship to attract visitors into the garden.

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The theoretical mechanics which I had outlined for the Living Garden scheme mean that the active garden environment becomes 'aware' when a visitor enters, what information is represented by the Key that they hold, and which Viewer's are currently available in an environment. All the information required to direct the visitor to the appropriate play-out device is therefore known, so a map - directing the visitor to the appropriate location in a garden - can be created.

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Extending the context for content argument, a range of objects which could guide the visitor to a garden were on display. Perhaps an individual might simply pick up a flat dynamic map panel on entering a garden, for example, which would literally point them in the right direction. An overhead with a superimposed image was left on a wall within the installation as an example of this.

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Alternatively exactly the same spatial/content information could be processed by the Knowbot which would - literally - act as a guide, taking the visitor to the right location. If the 'R2D2 connotations of the device built made the process seem strange and awkward, so much the better, as this was another example of attempting to elicit questions within a visitor's mind about why a six-legged robot wasn't appropriate - would the same mechanics realised in a human form be more acceptable? With the dawning era of organic machines this was an interesting issue. This was another example of a literal element within the garden - the robot - also having an iconic, symbolic meaning (as well as illustrating a functional aspect of the scheme). It was both guide and a question regarding what form a guide should take.

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Alternatively the same spatial co-ordinates could be processed so that the visitor finds 'voices in the air' (broadcast from speakers hidden throughout a garden) could effectively tell an individual which path to follow. One of the questions that I tended to put to visitors was is it any stranger to use a robot to navigate an information rich world, than Windows 95 or the Macintosh interface based on a metaphor of a 20th century office desk-top?

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As well as raising a few smiles, the compost heap, replete with keyboards, CD-Roms, floppy disks was well very well liked, although visitors of a more literal frame of mind saw it as being an 'anti-computer, anti-multimedia statement' rather than one which simply aimed to make the point about hardware, software and content all having a natural life-span - each element ageing and decaying but providing the substance for new growth.

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On the Aesthetics of Gravel

As a group project, the installation was, however, also a reflection of a spectrum of views, with Patrick Power's belief that the garden was purely symbolic, to Peter Robinson's aspiration to build a lush and very real memory garden. This catalysed a good deal of fruitful debate but necessarily meant that compromises were made all around as to the final look of the garden. A good example was the way that the Echoing Tree was built from layers of papier maché taken from the Encyclopaedia Britannica - Patrick's idea for a tree of knowledge - which was then painted with a brown varnish to satisfy Peter's colour scheme, and establish an 'organic' identity for the garden: a not entirely happy compromise.

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Since Peter and Patrick had also both been informed that their degree was in jeopardy they felt that their work and voice had to be very visible within the installation in order to pass. I then had to make fine decisions between allowing the team as a whole to articulate its voice, and ensuring that the overall design did not turn into something of a curate's egg.

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Whilst the design of the installation certainly seemed to work well in terms of communicating the essence of the scheme, I do feel that the aesthetics of the garden in particular were compromised - in part, because of these anxieties about making a mark. Peter Robinson's additional involvement with Mr Klutch (another student's project) also made extra demands upon his time - ones which inevitably grew as the show approached.

 

This highlighted the constant problem (for us) that as with all the other CD-Rom, computer-based projects at the show only one part of Mr Klutch would ever be visible at one time (the current screen), whilst the 'completeness' of the Garden installation was very visible, all the time, and it meant that 100% of what had been planned had to be built. Many of the CD-Roms only had a few screens of information, but the examiners never looked beyond a few 'clicks'. Therefore, having still managed to build all of what we intended to - no minor physical, logistical or technical achievement in itself - to subsequently have just the criterion of 'completion' subsequently held against the garden was particularly galling.

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Yet, this problem was part of this general issue of creating work that was both an exhibit and also - effectively - part of an exam. Peter and Patrick had both been led to believe that unless their influence was materially visible they might simply not get their degree. Much of the compromise in the aesthetics of the garden was therefore, a direct result in the compound nature of the Circuit show which was both public exhibition and individual test.

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The original conception of the Living Garden was as a narrative text - the appropriate medium for which, I believed, was a book. The least appropriate medium always seemed some form of existing multimedia-platform, the choice of which would undoubtedly have created confusion as to whether the scheme was a real or virtual space. Modelling the Living Garden - a system which one is claiming does not have to be based on current multimedia technology - using existing hardware and software would, to say the least, be somewhat paradoxical.

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Having been denied the opportunity to develop the Garden as a book at the interim assessment, and told to develop a 'real' garden, establishing this reality, the very physicality of this place, was essential. Whilst this may have been interpreted somewhat literally with bark and gravel, these - after all - were 'literal', true materials which did actually make the point. Most of the visitors to the exhibit who were led through rapidly saw the unfolding arguments as they walked through the installation that physical spaces can, and clearly do, also serve representational functions as well; in other words the physical garden was not just a metaphor, but a place which - whilst serving a function - could also be rich in symbolic resonances, too.

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An unexpected feature of the use of real materials was the way the garden genuinely evolved over the week - fruit rotted, the paths became a much more interesting mix of gravel and organic material, the place grew and was shaped by those visiting it, rather than simply reproducing verbatim pre-recorded programme. Again, this embodied one of the concepts of the garden that the 'journey to unlock a message' - the particular choice of garden the time of day, of year and of place - and would all form part of the associative 'content' of retrieving a message.

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Whilst these points were successfully communicated via a walk-through, the state of play during the project's academic assessment felt less like a guided tour than a pitch invasion - not by our fans - but actually by the refs and linesmen clearly uncertain of the state of play within the garden; or indeed what game we were actually playing at all. The combination of this with Patrick and Peter's perceived need to be voluble about the very real contributions they had made to the physical garden in order – so they understood – to obtain their degree, ensured a confusion and babble which was very far from the experience that the installation was capable of delivering.

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A factor that should not be underestimated was the sheer anxiety generated by the long delay in being seen by the examiners with no indication of when assessment would take place. The Living Garden team were in attendance from 8.00am to 5.00pm before being seen by exhausted examiners - who were met by at that point by to put it mildly three somewhat nervous and fidgety gardeners.

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That said, certainly my feelings about the exhibition as an event changed a great deal as the week went on. From being implacably opposed to the whole event, I found myself actually enjoying the period and the chance to tell people about the Garden, and discuss the project with a wide audience. It was also one of the few times as an RCA student that I had an opportunity to be within that institution, formally, and meet other RCA-based students and staff. The encouragement - and constructive criticism - from Daryl Richards of the Computer Related Design faculty, in particular made a great deal of difference to me personally. Without the show, encouragement from individuals like this and other professional visitors who wanted to discuss the concepts behind the garden would never have happened.