After a long soak in the bath, getting all the mud out of my knees, it's time to report on the fascinating cake-fuelled jamboree that was Library Camp. The camping was largely confined to flamboyance, moreso than any tented, fireside frollicks (I'd brought my blanket for nothing, it seems), but I can turn my hand to both, and embraced the Aquarian spirit of the "unconference" with a spring in my step (albeit weighed down by the blanket in my bag).
Mabel's tale of cake and camping would prove inspirational.
A diesel leak at Burton-on-Trent livened up an otherwise clockwork journey down, but well before half past nine I had already scrawled some illegible half-sentence on a green paper foot, and rebeliously attached it to the wall with magic tape rather than the prescribed aerosol. That being done it was time to cling pathetically to the skirts of @rachel_s_b (as is tradition) for the immediate social ice-breaking before spotting @LibWig and the impressively yellow-stockinged @theatregrad (both formerly of this parish) to compare dissertation notes and mourn the theft of my formerly-flowing locks. On the subject of locks and impressive colour, it would be amiss not to again congratulate the hair-dying talents of @JenniferYellin, whose vivid purple barnet provoked envy in many an undelegate, myself included (not that I have much to dye at the moment, having fallen victim to an over-enthusiastic barberian). In addition to resplendent hair and terrific tights, there was, in @Batty_Towers' telephone's terms a "lot of lovely crickets going on in this room" (where "crickets" is 'autocorrect' for "frockage"), not least @Jo_Bo_Anderson's foxy little number. As much as I would've loved to have added to this frockage, social norms requested otherwise, so I opted for my Lundiest jumper (not very Lundy at all, but Lundier than all my others; to describe it as Lundy on eBay would be a contravension of the terms and conditions regarding item descriptions) which earned a fine compliment from @Girlinthe who asked if I'd knitted it myself. Alas, my knitting talents are not allowed to be described as either "talents" or "knitting", though I rather wish otherwise. Perhaps I should take up the needles and check out that Vogue knitbook again so that I might join in with the #knitcamp at next year's event.
The formalities of the day began with a circulating microphone by which we might each introduce ourselves to our fellow campers, and express what we hoped to achieve from the day. This was a lengthy process, revealing a startlingly large number of Sarahs congregated in the one place, and all the jokes that one might choose to employ at such introductions were soon exhausted long before the microphone reached me. I think I came up with something about how I intended to "point at all the people I recognize from Twitter". This was not always easy: while @lemurph made herself plain by covering herself in Cumberbatch, and profligate and unambiguous use of labels rendered @MichaelStead similarly easy to spot, @llordllama is much less woolly than his avatar might suggest, and @bethanr, who was shrewd enough to recognize me as my Kingly self in spite of my lack of ermine, had herself neglected to don her recently characteristic lemurs. Still, much pointing opportunities did indeed present themselves throughout the day, and it was also good to see (and catch up with) many familiar faces from the New Professionals Conference earlier this year.
In addition to being a point-fest and knitting circle, Library Camp also offered some opportunity to discuss and consider ideas of library theory and practice. This aspect of the day began soon after the introductions, with a slightly chaotic 'pitch' session (during which I had a small nap) that culminated in the hasty establishment of a timetable of events in the form of a lot of post-it-notes on a whiteboard grid. Once the immediate congregation had died away, and it was possible to get close enough to the schedule to read it, it was time to exercise one of my least favourite activities in life: Decision Making.
For first period, I decided to take a virtual tour of the forthcoming Birmingham Central Library. This was conducted in that curious nightmare world that is Second Life. I dabbled with Second Life a good five or more years ago, and just fired it up again to have another mooch around Brum for blogging purposes, only to have to start from scratch, building up a new avatar because the latest version doesn't seem to support my old login. Anyway, the horrible clunkiness of Second Life aside, this project does at least give a rough idea of how the new library will be, although they haven't dared make an aural prediction of how the acoustics will operate given that the children's library is right at the bottom of the atrium. The atrial design is my biggest concern, though I am pleased to see that the reference study is behind glass so will likely be isolated from any rising din. There are also a couple of exciting roof gardens, and it will be interesting to observe how they will come to be policed, from a book security perspective.
Perhaps the greatest feature of the new library is the Book Rotunda (I am unaware of any Bull Rings in the new library, but there are at least two Rotundas): a proper bit of library pornography: five rings of mezzanined full-wall bookstack (although if the Second Life render is anything to go by, one has to have the power of flight to reach the gallery walkways). This vast array of tomes means more material on display than was previously the case (although there will still be two floors of closed stack in the place).
Music practice rooms, and perhaps even instrument loans, are intended, adjacent to a rather curious amphitheatre thing that reminds me of a smaller version of Sheffield's sorely missed Hole In The Road. Speaking of dead modernist masterpieces, what will happen to the externally stunning (though by all accounts internally infuriating) current library remains unknown.
You can find the planning documents for the new library here, although they reveal only so much. One gets the impression that the finer details (or the practicalities) will be aptly improvised once the building is up.
First period over... let caketime begin! Oh so much cake... Everywhere, cake...
And then to the second session: Special Collections. Moments after taking my seat I felt a particular sense of comfort and proper place: it is my career ambition to have myself a Special Collection, and this session seemed to confirm that such desires were soundly placed. I cannot express this curious sensation of fit in any sensible, logical, meaningful way, but it possessed me all the same. The natter that followed (natter being the right word for it, I feel) was a meandering one, taking in the lessons from the museum sector regards space and display; the possible destiny of many libraries as the White Dwarf that is a Special Collection; the benefits (and inherent drawbacks that accompany them) of blogging and digitization... It was a fascinating little discussion and one of my highlights of the day, if only for seeming to confirm my desires.
Time for some more cake, methinks. Lots of cake. Oooh... lovely cake!
The next session (considering the Library as repository) saw us take up arms against our sea of troubles lest our books be metaphorically water-damaged. Swimming in that sea we find, on the one fin, publishing rackets that gleefully rent out to us (electronically) the journals we used to own (physically), and on the other, overly demarcated local government communications departments getting in the way of simple promotions: the behemoth of bureaucracy that is the price of a local position. We considered the balance of floorspace between study and storage, the rise and rise of Local Studies, and the importance of the library as sanctuary and public environment. Throughout there was a sense that libraries need to work together as consortia if they are to overcome many of the more corporate obstacles faced. Given the nature of local government and tendering rules, this may not be as easy for public libraries as it is for plastic robot dinosaurs piloted by teenagers.
Perhaps the greatest feature of the new library is the Book Rotunda (I am unaware of any Bull Rings in the new library, but there are at least two Rotundas): a proper bit of library pornography: five rings of mezzanined full-wall bookstack (although if the Second Life render is anything to go by, one has to have the power of flight to reach the gallery walkways). This vast array of tomes means more material on display than was previously the case (although there will still be two floors of closed stack in the place).
Music practice rooms, and perhaps even instrument loans, are intended, adjacent to a rather curious amphitheatre thing that reminds me of a smaller version of Sheffield's sorely missed Hole In The Road. Speaking of dead modernist masterpieces, what will happen to the externally stunning (though by all accounts internally infuriating) current library remains unknown.
You can find the planning documents for the new library here, although they reveal only so much. One gets the impression that the finer details (or the practicalities) will be aptly improvised once the building is up.
First period over... let caketime begin! Oh so much cake... Everywhere, cake...
And then to the second session: Special Collections. Moments after taking my seat I felt a particular sense of comfort and proper place: it is my career ambition to have myself a Special Collection, and this session seemed to confirm that such desires were soundly placed. I cannot express this curious sensation of fit in any sensible, logical, meaningful way, but it possessed me all the same. The natter that followed (natter being the right word for it, I feel) was a meandering one, taking in the lessons from the museum sector regards space and display; the possible destiny of many libraries as the White Dwarf that is a Special Collection; the benefits (and inherent drawbacks that accompany them) of blogging and digitization... It was a fascinating little discussion and one of my highlights of the day, if only for seeming to confirm my desires.
Time for some more cake, methinks. Lots of cake. Oooh... lovely cake!
The next session (considering the Library as repository) saw us take up arms against our sea of troubles lest our books be metaphorically water-damaged. Swimming in that sea we find, on the one fin, publishing rackets that gleefully rent out to us (electronically) the journals we used to own (physically), and on the other, overly demarcated local government communications departments getting in the way of simple promotions: the behemoth of bureaucracy that is the price of a local position. We considered the balance of floorspace between study and storage, the rise and rise of Local Studies, and the importance of the library as sanctuary and public environment. Throughout there was a sense that libraries need to work together as consortia if they are to overcome many of the more corporate obstacles faced. Given the nature of local government and tendering rules, this may not be as easy for public libraries as it is for plastic robot dinosaurs piloted by teenagers.
If I could've found footage of the Battle of the Planets
spaceships coming together I would've used that instead.
spaceships coming together I would've used that instead.
But enough of such library talk... there is cake to be eaten. And sandwiches... [looks at sandwiches]... Forget the sandwiches... there is cake!
Several slices of cake later, and it is the afternoon. Time for another session, this time from the impressively bearded User:Pigsonthewing, who I first encountered in a different life back when I lived on Special:Recent Changes. He talked about how museums, libraries and galleries can use Wikipedia / Wikimedia Commons as a cunning mechanism for releasing and hosting content. For example, an event in which keen editors were let lose on a particular collection produced 1,200 articles from the stuff. <wikipedia joke>All sounds dangerously close to Original Research to me!</wikipedia joke> Ask both what Wikipedia can do for libraries and libraries for Wikipedia at the glamourously titled Wikipedia:GLAM project.
Need more cake. Must have cake! Caaaaaake!
By this point, cake was clearly taking its toll on those around the campfire who'd had to get up particularly early that morning (probably tripping over guy-ropes on their way to the toilet-tent). Many a fragmented conversation, blank stare, and lust for coffee were manifesting (coffee being the only known cure for a cake overdose; apparently most effectively administered by a knitting needle straight into the mainline). I decided to leave the final session to chance, aimlessly wandering into one of the rooms and entering a conversation about #uklibchat. So far I haven't really been involved with this hashtag game, mainly on account of being on the bus / having dinner during much of it. I've also been a bit tentative about getting involved on account of the formal structure of the thing: the introductions, and indeed the preordained running-order, make me feel a bit like an interloper by the time I arrive in this corner of Twitterton. This is silly, of course, but then so am I. The speed at which conversations operate also puts me off a little: Do you have any idea how long it takes me to craft some of my tweets - sculpting them down to a perfect 140 characters of concision and elegance? By the time I've distilled the perfect response to Q5, say, Q6 is already skipping down my timeline. I exaggerate to a degree, but the successful nature of UK LibChat means that it often whizzes along in a blur, like a game of ice hockey or some snazzy shoot-em-up. When the pace gets to that level I begin to glaze over a little: TOO MUCH INPUT / CANNOT COMPUTE. I descend into Guru Meditations and withdraw to some more whimsical hashtaggery.
This is not a problem with LibChat so much as a problem with my slow-cooking brain and my pathetic shyness (which can extend as far as Twitter on such occasions that it exhibits even marginal levels of formality). I suppose for my own part I would like a less formal structure, or more liberal abuse of the #uklibchat hashtag: perhaps having it appended to any library query / appeal at any time. But perhaps I should stop being so pathetic, and get properly stuck in, instead. Or maybe I should just dose myself up on cake:
No...! No more cake...! Please, no more cake! I'll tell you anything!
A resident poet (good work if you can get it) then regaled us with his slightly over-delivered doggerel. Not that I minded... I'd had my tickets drawn out in the raffle and was now a bottle of champers better off. If I wasn't already impressed with Library Camp, this would've been sufficient to buy me off. But even without the help of free booze, I feel the whole thing proved a decided success. I enjoyed the informality of it all, and (for the most part) the cake (with champagne in hand, I could even tolerate the rhyming). I want another go! Can we do it again next weekend?!
Library Camp formally over (the only formality of the day), it was time for @deadlylibrarian (of whom I have considerable tattoo envy) to lead us to a pub. Oh, the tales I could tell of what went on that night! Ah, but I see that the embers are dying away on this fire, and your blanket is failing in its duties. Come, let us return to the warmth of our respective sleeping bags and save such stories for future camps. We must get some sleep, for tomorrow I have wool to buy.
Need more cake. Must have cake! Caaaaaake!
By this point, cake was clearly taking its toll on those around the campfire who'd had to get up particularly early that morning (probably tripping over guy-ropes on their way to the toilet-tent). Many a fragmented conversation, blank stare, and lust for coffee were manifesting (coffee being the only known cure for a cake overdose; apparently most effectively administered by a knitting needle straight into the mainline). I decided to leave the final session to chance, aimlessly wandering into one of the rooms and entering a conversation about #uklibchat. So far I haven't really been involved with this hashtag game, mainly on account of being on the bus / having dinner during much of it. I've also been a bit tentative about getting involved on account of the formal structure of the thing: the introductions, and indeed the preordained running-order, make me feel a bit like an interloper by the time I arrive in this corner of Twitterton. This is silly, of course, but then so am I. The speed at which conversations operate also puts me off a little: Do you have any idea how long it takes me to craft some of my tweets - sculpting them down to a perfect 140 characters of concision and elegance? By the time I've distilled the perfect response to Q5, say, Q6 is already skipping down my timeline. I exaggerate to a degree, but the successful nature of UK LibChat means that it often whizzes along in a blur, like a game of ice hockey or some snazzy shoot-em-up. When the pace gets to that level I begin to glaze over a little: TOO MUCH INPUT / CANNOT COMPUTE. I descend into Guru Meditations and withdraw to some more whimsical hashtaggery.
Computing in 01'30"...
This is not a problem with LibChat so much as a problem with my slow-cooking brain and my pathetic shyness (which can extend as far as Twitter on such occasions that it exhibits even marginal levels of formality). I suppose for my own part I would like a less formal structure, or more liberal abuse of the #uklibchat hashtag: perhaps having it appended to any library query / appeal at any time. But perhaps I should stop being so pathetic, and get properly stuck in, instead. Or maybe I should just dose myself up on cake:
Would you like another slice of Joss Ackland's Spunky Backpack?
No...! No more cake...! Please, no more cake! I'll tell you anything!
A resident poet (good work if you can get it) then regaled us with his slightly over-delivered doggerel. Not that I minded... I'd had my tickets drawn out in the raffle and was now a bottle of champers better off. If I wasn't already impressed with Library Camp, this would've been sufficient to buy me off. But even without the help of free booze, I feel the whole thing proved a decided success. I enjoyed the informality of it all, and (for the most part) the cake (with champagne in hand, I could even tolerate the rhyming). I want another go! Can we do it again next weekend?!
Library Camp formally over (the only formality of the day), it was time for @deadlylibrarian (of whom I have considerable tattoo envy) to lead us to a pub. Oh, the tales I could tell of what went on that night! Ah, but I see that the embers are dying away on this fire, and your blanket is failing in its duties. Come, let us return to the warmth of our respective sleeping bags and save such stories for future camps. We must get some sleep, for tomorrow I have wool to buy.
Perhaps you'd like to be involved with organising next year's? If there is to be an next year it will only happen if others take personal responsibility for making it happen. This year's organisers have probably done their bit for the nation so just waiting for the hands to pass the baton on to now. Happy to support/advise if necessary but would never suggest that what we did was a 'blueprint'. Never done it before - just made it up as we went along - it was a case of 'feel the fear and do it anyway'! All we did was to create an environment for conversations to happen in a different way with different people and maybe show them what it is they want?
ReplyDeleteI sense a future in which there's some kind of Knitcamp specifically for teaching librarians the Way of the Knit :D
ReplyDeleteAnd I find libchat hard to reply to, too, though I like watching it, and I'm a distressingly speedy twitterer: I look forward to seeing how it progresses!
Please St. E, tell me another story...
ReplyDeleteWow! So pleased that you enjoyed the special collections session :) And it was lovely to meet you.
ReplyDelete