One
of the disadvantages of living in the city is that you are
deprived of one of the great experiences of living: the experience of
staring in awe at a clear sky filled with thousands of twinkling
stars. There is something very special that happens during such a experience. It is as if you get in touch with some
deep, mystic part of your soul that is normally hidden. Somehow the
darkness around you and the dim, distant stars above you combine to
create some feeling of awe, mystery, and wonder that you simply can't
get by looking at an astronomical photo while sitting in your
well-lit home.
There
is no way to have such an experience in New York City, because on a
really clear night here you might see maybe five or ten stars. But
30 years ago in New York there was a place you could go to get the
same type of feeling of cosmic wonder experienced by someone looking
up at a night sky teeming with stars. The place was the old Hayden
Planetarium, which served the public between 1933 and 1997.
The
old Hayden Planetarium had a planetarium theater with seats, but that
wasn't the best part. The best part was the set of visual exhibits that
surrounded the planetarium theater. The exhibits were kept in very
dark light. Barely able to see your path in front of you, you would
walk through dimly lit halls containing representations of distant
galaxies, stars, and planets. The design of the exhibits was
astonishingly successful in creating exactly the same type of feeling
of dark, mysterious wonder and awe that someone feels when standing
in the middle of a dark field, looking up at a sky ablaze with five
thousand stars.
But
then some people had the idea of completely demolishing the old
Hayden Planetarium. They tore it down and replaced it with some garish new
building called the Rose Center for Earth and Space. The new building
features some fancy architecture, and exhibits that always seem to be
bathed in glaring bright light.
The
new building fails to create the emotional effect that the
old Hayden Planetarium created so effectively: that same mysterious,
marvelous feeling of awe and wonder you feel when looking at a dark
night sky filled with stars. I wish that they had left the old
Hayden Planetarium exactly as it was, or that they had created a new
building using the same approach.
The
Rose Center for Earth and Space features a huge circular winding
stairway that is supposed to teach you something about the age of
mankind compared to the age of the universe. The idea is that you
start out at the top of the stairway, at what is supposed to the Big
Bang, the birth of the universe. Each step you take down the winding
stairway is supposed to represent a particular unit of time. Then
when you get at the end of the stairway, you see that all of human
existence is shown in the last step. This is supposed to give you
some “Aha!” moment in which you realize that man's existence has
been short compared to the age of the universe.
I
would guess that this very expensive exhibit has little effect on the
minds of 99% of visitors. That's
because it's a big complicated attempt to get your brain to think in
some totally unfamiliar way, in which you equate physical distance
walked with lengths of time. The Rose Center for Earth and Space
could have had three times the emotional impact for one third the cost
if it had stuck with the simple low-tech approach taken by the old
Hayden Planetarium: just try to recreate that same old, magical,
mystical, mysterious feeling of awe and wonder that humans have felt
for 40,000 years when they looked up at the night sky on a clear
night.
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