Running, jumping, and standing still at the Exploratorium

1-28-12 San Francisco
Sala, Alan, and Fuji cranked up the mighty Prius and on Saturday last drove over to Berkeley to pick up Amalia (now 9) and Joaquin (almost 7) to go check out the San Francisco Exploratorium. Perhaps because it’s primarily aimed at Children who appreciate long words, more than 40 years after its founding in 1969 The Exploratorium is still called by its full name..no cute contractions based on geography or Manhatten wannabees. And it’s still housed in the Northern end of the Palace of Fine Arts ( Maybeck, 1915, built for the Panama-Pacific Exposition (sometimes called the ‘Innocent Exposition’), and designed as an open rotunda and colonnades to evoke a Roman ruin…and to create additionally an exposition space in the semicircular building that now houses a theatre as well as the Exploratorium). The collection of watery reflecting pools and fountains accommodate satisfying numbers of well fed waterfowl. The russet colored massive stones soar over the walkways, positively shouting ‘ You think one lousy 1906 earthquake and devastating fire can stop US??’. Nowadays, the Palace colonnades are generally occupied with brides and grooms being photographed. But we didn’t see any as we arrived; perhaps too cold.
We left Fuji in the car, after a brief walk around the meadow across the street near the St Francis Yacht Club, but about half way through the visit, Sala noticed a dog, without any Service Dog paraphernalia, and after confounding several of the ‘explainers’ (young people who roam around doing what docents do in less lively places) , I finally got the answer from the Head Explorer for that moment, a dowager type seated behind the office desk; ‘dogs are allowed as long as you are fully responsible for them’. Without pausing to consider all the hypotheticals ( …suppose an elephant, escaped from the circus, sneaks quietly into the building, is frightened by the dog and tramples a small child? Suppose….) I extracted the little dog from her prison and marched her back inside, both of us quite delighted.
By that time, A , J (and us grandparents) had eaten pizza and sodas at the little café (no upscale Latte’s or white china cups and plates here, thank you; think Zoo and you have the right level of amenities) and raced off to see the ‘Light’ exhibit. First on the list; you put your chin on a special chin plate, look at the target, and the camera takes a picture and then displays two versions of your face, one constructed of the right side and its flipped dup, and the other constructed from the left side. There’s a switch that lets you elide to adjust the nose width. Yes, we are all quite different right to left. Second; a puddle of light on the floor, made up of overlaps of the three primaries, so that the center is a tetroid of white light. Ho hum. But look what happens when you move more red than blue. The ‘shadow’ turns yellow, based on which lights are left unblocked. Then there’s a large screen classic Pac-man game, but with the controls separated, so it takes a team of 4 to operate the little cookie munching ghost threatened Pac person. And the monochrome room, where all the vivid colors of the vivid children are reduced to a dun colored hue, which you can resurrect with a white light source.
The kid’s favorite is the bubble tray. Like most of the favorites, it’s simple, just much more durable and bigger than what you can have at home. The aluminum rings are 2 feet and more in diameter, so with a little practice Amalia and then Joaquin are pulling up soap film tubes and bringing them down over their heads. An Explainer has worked out how to cut loose a big bubble, which then hangs overhead for a long time. When I try it, just before closing time, about 3 out of 4 times there is no film, and I am somewhat foolishly bringing an empty hoop up over my head. Then the soap molecules pack parallel, the surface becomes tense, the atmosphere is trapped, the bubble expands and an opalescent hood, like the break of a wave in many colors hangs all around me for just an instant before breaking into a few drops of soapy water.
I kept a casual eye on the bubble chamber; one other nerd headed right for it, towing a group of friends. He was probably saying the same stuff I said to Sala ( J and A glazed over very fast); we are seeing the traces of ions left by muons; cosmic rays. This is how most high energy particle work was done until 40 years ago. We are looking at the passage of muons and electrons that were released by supernova millions, billions of years ago and finally arrive here, San Francisco. Well, the kids are right; this is dated stuff. No chance of seeing the Higgs boson here.
Upstairs, accompanied now by an enthusiastic if somewhat confused little dog (who has transformed our family from viewers to exhibitors..with each dog-child encounter the words ‘fully responsible” come ringing in my ears) we are in the ‘Sound’ section. I think the most fun was the walk softly room..a 12 foot tray of gravel with microphones that record a ‘sound score’ of the scrunching you make walking across the tray. I tramp in at a 75 with normal gait. I can get it down to 17 by great care. Sala, walking mindfully one supposes, scores just over 5…Amalia, light as a feather in her holiday Uggs, gets a 4.2, and after a number of leaping scrunchy 40’s, Joaquin somehow manages an incredible 1.7. But there’s also a room of 4 different marimbas (where Sala and I rediscover we have nothing special going in that department, but have a great time), and a place where you can play drums along with a selection of recording stars. And, amazingly, there’s a nice little booth made for two with headphones where you can listen to 5 different conversations between couples, then press the red button for the answer of which is more effective..or another set of numbered buttons that explain why that particular conversation is effective or offensive. From this, I find that expressing anger is not all bad…good to know. Exactly how this exhibit got here is hard to say, but it’s definitely from Berkeley (says so on the attribution).
There is a special case that is devoted to the parts of exhibits that wear out after a million duty cycles, but generally the exhibits are amazingly safe, durable, and self-explanatory. I guess those that aren’t break and are removed. Some date back to before Frank Oppenheimer (younger brother of Oppie) put up the original collection of exhibits…demonstrations of wave action made of steel and brass rods. Model steam engines that work from compressed air. A model of a 4 cylinder internal combustion engine that can be cranked to demonstrate how it works. The air cannon, the mist bowl, the collections of plants and animals. The classroom, for groups and particularly for teachers is not in operation..its Saturday after all.
All in all, we probably saw only a scant hundred of the over 475 participatory exhibits. Wikipedia says 560,000 people visit annually, and the Exploratorium ( a non profit) had an annual budget of $44.7 million. Made the price of so-so pizza less painful. Joaquin’s hands were full of bubbles as we left, meaning he was not able to take a last turn at the sand design turntables ( Alan intervened as he was contemplating mixing the bubbles and the sand). Later, Joaquin did some translational research work on the beach, attacking the larger palette offered there. Fuji, released from her leash, dug right along beside him. Amalia constructed small rocky islands that were then inundated by the advancing surf. Alan watched the wonders of the pacific and of the children.
If you want to see the Exploratorium in its original glory, ya gotta visit soon; sometime in 2013 it’s scheduled to move to the fleshpots of Pier 17 on the Embarcadero, leaving the Palace to the newlyweds and the swans.