Several weeks ago I took a picture of our new peachy, bronze, burgundy carpeting at the North Carroll Branch of the Carroll County Public Library system in which I work as a Substitute Information Librarian. My own toes mysteriously protrude into the frame from the photograph’s edge. They are not quite in focus, I see, nor is the carpet. My new Canon Rebel XT Camera represents one of the many examples of technology I’m engaging since I began working at the library.
The warm new carpet replaces the old blue/turquoise which was as stained and tracked with use as a forest floor where animals follow their inclinations mostly unnoticed by humans. I was photographing the new carpet to see if I could match it in Photoshop with a complementary paint color for the wall behind the Circulation desk, which was due to be painted. It was an excuse to play with Photoshop and hopefully learn something.
I’m not skilled enough with my camera to use many settings except Automatic. The auto focus had a psychotic episode when faced with a sea of carpet and no single object in the frame. The lens was zooming in and out in a deranged manner until I pointed it at my own feet where it calmed itself gazing at my conservative ‘library’ shoes. If I were proficient with the manual setting on my camera, I could have photographed the carpet in all its textural and colorful perfection and I could have studied that picture at my leisure to determine exactly what colors appealed t o me. But the pressure with auto focus is to choose, choose something, choose now.
We are mostly a female staff and we were highly stimulated by the need to pick a new color for the wall. We came forth unabashedly with suggestions ranging from burgundy to turquoise. It was painted yesterday, and as I contemplate the beautiful fresh pale peach wall, my own gaze looses focus and I have a moment of remembrance. I’m remembering that I sought this job 6 years ago to stay connected to change and to help people find what they’re looking for. I’m realizing how much information, inspiration and companionship has come to me personally by just being in the library, without seeking anything more than to do my job.
The library of my childhood has changed. It is no longer the dim, still, heavy repository of books where I wandered unobserved for half a day seeking answers to questions I didn’t even know I had. And I have to go on record as saying, I always came away with wonderful things I’d not even considered wanting to know, even in the dusty old library of the past.
But the new library is better; soft, warm, bright, everything so accessible. We’re still all about books but the ponderous quality of libraries past is gone. Our staff, except for me who am having a brief out-of-body-episode, is focused on helping people learn what they want and how to find it. The library changes weekly, even daily, in response to public need. It is wonderful and I am continually amazed by it. As a girl, I would have loved these warmer colors, more involved staff, bright computers, the fountain, the movies, the music, the cool data bases.
In time, our new carpet will again reveal the miles walked by the Circulation Staff as they endlessly check in and shelve returned books. The area around the kids’ game computers will show wear from all that play. And wherever the librarians dispense information will be the water holes toward which people trek with their desire for knowledge, wearing the texture of the new carpet smooth as mud.
As I gaze unfocused into the warmth around me I find there is one precious thing from the past I don’t want to lose as we gain sophistication in helping people find what they need. Just as I want to know there will always be room for little woodsy beasts to go about the business of living unobserved, I want the library to remain a haven for those who want to wander, open minded in the presence of knowledge, focusing where an inner world leads. We are getting amazingly good at helping people zero in on what they want. “Do you want stories about cats or do you want true facts about cats? Would you be interested in cat breeding, breeds of cats, cat care or the cat as a symbol in ancient Egypt?” In the library of the future, next week, next year, will we librarians still remember to make gracious accommodation for those patrons who don’t know exactly what they seek yet who want to wander by themselves toward discovery? Will we remember that when we achieve focus on a subject too quickly, it might not automatically be what we really need?
Wandering patrons will never wear out our carpet in a predictable pattern. Neither will wandering librarians which, I understand, is the wave of the future. I hope we also remain a sanctuary for the open quest, preserving a piece of human wilderness in the midst of progress.
S. Wolf
The warm new carpet replaces the old blue/turquoise which was as stained and tracked with use as a forest floor where animals follow their inclinations mostly unnoticed by humans. I was photographing the new carpet to see if I could match it in Photoshop with a complementary paint color for the wall behind the Circulation desk, which was due to be painted. It was an excuse to play with Photoshop and hopefully learn something.
I’m not skilled enough with my camera to use many settings except Automatic. The auto focus had a psychotic episode when faced with a sea of carpet and no single object in the frame. The lens was zooming in and out in a deranged manner until I pointed it at my own feet where it calmed itself gazing at my conservative ‘library’ shoes. If I were proficient with the manual setting on my camera, I could have photographed the carpet in all its textural and colorful perfection and I could have studied that picture at my leisure to determine exactly what colors appealed t o me. But the pressure with auto focus is to choose, choose something, choose now.
We are mostly a female staff and we were highly stimulated by the need to pick a new color for the wall. We came forth unabashedly with suggestions ranging from burgundy to turquoise. It was painted yesterday, and as I contemplate the beautiful fresh pale peach wall, my own gaze looses focus and I have a moment of remembrance. I’m remembering that I sought this job 6 years ago to stay connected to change and to help people find what they’re looking for. I’m realizing how much information, inspiration and companionship has come to me personally by just being in the library, without seeking anything more than to do my job.
The library of my childhood has changed. It is no longer the dim, still, heavy repository of books where I wandered unobserved for half a day seeking answers to questions I didn’t even know I had. And I have to go on record as saying, I always came away with wonderful things I’d not even considered wanting to know, even in the dusty old library of the past.
But the new library is better; soft, warm, bright, everything so accessible. We’re still all about books but the ponderous quality of libraries past is gone. Our staff, except for me who am having a brief out-of-body-episode, is focused on helping people learn what they want and how to find it. The library changes weekly, even daily, in response to public need. It is wonderful and I am continually amazed by it. As a girl, I would have loved these warmer colors, more involved staff, bright computers, the fountain, the movies, the music, the cool data bases.
In time, our new carpet will again reveal the miles walked by the Circulation Staff as they endlessly check in and shelve returned books. The area around the kids’ game computers will show wear from all that play. And wherever the librarians dispense information will be the water holes toward which people trek with their desire for knowledge, wearing the texture of the new carpet smooth as mud.
As I gaze unfocused into the warmth around me I find there is one precious thing from the past I don’t want to lose as we gain sophistication in helping people find what they need. Just as I want to know there will always be room for little woodsy beasts to go about the business of living unobserved, I want the library to remain a haven for those who want to wander, open minded in the presence of knowledge, focusing where an inner world leads. We are getting amazingly good at helping people zero in on what they want. “Do you want stories about cats or do you want true facts about cats? Would you be interested in cat breeding, breeds of cats, cat care or the cat as a symbol in ancient Egypt?” In the library of the future, next week, next year, will we librarians still remember to make gracious accommodation for those patrons who don’t know exactly what they seek yet who want to wander by themselves toward discovery? Will we remember that when we achieve focus on a subject too quickly, it might not automatically be what we really need?
Wandering patrons will never wear out our carpet in a predictable pattern. Neither will wandering librarians which, I understand, is the wave of the future. I hope we also remain a sanctuary for the open quest, preserving a piece of human wilderness in the midst of progress.
S. Wolf
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