Things have been cooking at NYPL ever since Josh Greenberg came to run our digital library. Earlier this year, he announced NYPL Labs, where you can get a peek at the library’s digital works in progress. Today, he and his crew soft launched a redesign of the NYPL Digital Gallery, which now provides access to more than 7,000 items from our collections.
Some Times coverage of our big event yesterday.
Some of our older, more experienced gamers, who are also members of the Library’s teen advisory committees, were a tad disappointed that we only had E and T games. Instead of moping, they jumped in and started teaching the younger kids how to plan.
I couldn’t have been happier with the event. Go, Jack, go.
Getting ready for games at the Library today. See you in Astor Hall.
Big can be good. I didn’t think that SXSWi could be good big. Last year, with more than 6,000 in attendance, the event felt like it was about to spill over the edges, and like all of the creative juice that I normally drink up there would get soaked up by the pavement.
Even though this year’s festival was attended by more than ever, some 7,500+, it felt as cohesive as it did in 2003. It still feels like the place to be if you have any interest in staying in tune with the filed.
And, man, do I love hanging out in Austin, especially with my kid.
Arggg. Edward Rothstein slams one of the best things we are are going to do all year.
The following text is taken from our announcement:
Whaaa!!! Teens @ Fifth Avenue & 42nd Street Friday, March 21 @ 4:30 p.m. Game On @ The Library! You want games? We got games! Check out the very first big-screen Game On @ The Library event in Astor Hall! Challenge your friends to Guitar Hero, Wii Sports and Naruto on Playstation 3, Wii and Xbox 360! For ages 12 & Up!Astor Hall
Humanities and Social Sciences Library
The New York Public Library
Fifth Avenue & 42nd Street
New York, New York 10018
For additional information: (212) 930-0605
Admission is FREE
The first Rogue Librarian appeared in this film from 1986.
Jeffrey and I flew home from our last trip to San Francisco on September 10, 2001. It was good to go back again.
This is why I moved to New York nine years ago.
“Jane Jacobs and the Future of New York” at the Municipal Art Society
“The Age of Rembrandt: Dutch Painting in the Metropolitan Museum of Art”
New York, I love you.
I am, honestly, a good cook. In a past life I regularly turned out apple pies with perfect crusts, three-cheese macaroni from hand-made pasta and shortbread with my own lemon custard. Ask my husband and three-year old about my cooking, however, and they will tell you that I dial with the best of them. A few weeks ago the kid said, “Mommy, I am going to get you some dinner from my kitchen.” She dashed to her bedroom, picked up a toy phone and parroted the previous night’s dinner order, including out area code and telephone number.
Rebecca Federman’s Cooked Books, All Things Culinary at the New York Public Library, makes me want to change my wicked ways. Federman is our cookery bibliographer and her blog digs in to NYPL’s vast food collections. This fall I am going to follow her lead and make her Swiss Macaroni and Melted Gruyere and Apple Compote recipe.
My panel is going to be good:
Room 8ABC
Tuesday, March 13th
11:30 am - 12:30 pm
Many great art, book and manuscript collections survive because an individual had the foresight or good luck to save the good stuff. Libraries and museums owe a debt to individual dealers, collectors and packrats for saving illustrated Czarist plate books from the Soviets, and WWII letters from the trash-heap. Who are today’s collectors? What are they preserving? How will they manage fragile born-digital collections long enough share with future generations?
Moderator: Carrie Bickner, Director of Education Outreach, The New York Public Library
Josh Greenberg Assoc Dir Research Projects, Center for History & New Media
William Stingone Curator of Manuscripts, The New York Public Library
Megan Winget Professor, UT at Austin
Here are some excerpts from a related paper that I have been working on.
Without primary source materials, our account of the past becomes fixed, and we lose the ability to question the received narrative. The scholarly dialog, and in turn our popular understanding, requires that multiple eyes pore over all relevant materials. Sadly, digital records may not survive for the next generations of historians.
Imagine a contemporary author whose work will some day join the literary cannon. She lives in a hybrid of print and digital formats. She reads books in their traditional printed format, but may read the news online.
Some of her letters, perhaps those documenting a handful of financial and legal transactions with publishers, may be on paper, but most of her correspondence will be electronic. Portions of her email will be lost when, the weekend before a deadline, her MacBook crashes before she has a chance to back up her work. She rushes to purchase a new machine, and rewrites the manuscript from memory.
As frustrated as she is about the lost work, imagine how sad it will be for us that we will have no trace of the first draft. Various manuscript versions of her earlier work are likely word-processed, some in programs that no longer exist. Perhaps she saves an electronic copy of each draft, but there is a chance that she simply overwrites the same file, novel.doc, each day. Her candid photographs are probably in digital formats; some may be stored on her personal computer. If the Carl Van Vechten of today has photographed her, perhaps some of those images will be published on community websites like Flickr.com. Others photographs will be printed. As her personal papers are created, they are immediately cast to the wind and scattered across an archipelago of physical and digital islands.
Let’s assume, for the sake of argument, that our writer rigorously manages her papers. She carefully provides a meaningful file name for each draft of a written work. She makes regular backups. She scrupulously imports old email onto new computers. What happens if she loses custody of the materials before she becomes well known?
We have already experienced digital decay in a variety of fields. This rapid loss has been documented with telling anecdotes and troubling statistics. NASA records of the 1976 Viking landings on Mars, recorded in an obsolete programming langue and stored on old magnetic tapes, survive physically, but are no longer readable.[1] If a technological historian were to try to research the development of pioneering computer work, for example the origins of the study of Artificial Intelligence work at MIT, those files, programs, and computers are now gone.[2] The problem keeps getting worse; as our lives and work come to increasingly rely on electronic devices like personal computers, hand-held devices like iPods and Blackberries, our records begin to decay almost as quickly as they are born. Scholarly communication is increasingly bound up in a reliance on digital formats that are decaying; it is beginning to rely more and more on materials that are published on the Internet in the form of conference papers, electronic journals, and professional and society websites. There is no print counterpart for these materials. The electronic copy is the version of record for this growing subset of scholarly literature.
Paper is patient, content to live alone in attics, basements and storage lockers for decades, even in desert caves for centuries. It forgives us for our neglect, and like an old friend, resumes a past conversation as though no time has passed at all. Digital records are like petulant children who cry as soon as they are put down, even if it is just for a moment. They require care and feeding from the moment they are born, and continue to demand skilled attention throughout their lifecycle. What kind of person will have the patience, expertise and money to take care of such demanding and fragile beings?
[1] Jesdanun, Anick. “Coming Soon: a Digital Dark Age?” CBS News (AP). 21 Jan. 2003. 30 Dec. 2006