Bridging Forces With Invisible Worlds
Image Credit: Iwan Baan via citypass
Throughout history, nature and technology have often been perceived as antithetical forces. This dichotomy is echoed in the reflections of many artists. One such artist is Jason Stallings, who delivers this tension in his paintings “Team Zissou” and “Contrasting Tides”. In his blog, Stalling expressed his wariness of technology, stating, “I’ve become slightly wary of technology in recent years. What once promised to help make life better has seemingly pivoted to focus uncomfortably solely on commerce at best” and describing that technology is “more recognizable as a mechanism that exacerbates humanity's worst tendencies.” These sentiments highlight a growing concern that technology may be overshadowing Mother Nature. However, the American Museum of Natural History is making strides to bridge the gap between the two with its latest exhibition, Invisible Worlds.
Opened in May of 2023, Invisible Worlds is one of many permanent exhibitions in the museum's latest expansion, The Richard Gilder Center for Science, Education, and Innovation – a 230,000 square foot arena designed by Chicago based architecture firm Studio Gang,. It took nine years and $465 million to construct the wing, But in my experience, it was well worth it once you entered. You are met with something I would describe as “organic architecture”: the atriums’ undulating forms and organic shapes invoke a sense of fluidity reminiscent of natural geological formations. The usage of a pink granite, cavernous spacing, and skylights that flood the interior with natural light also really brings home the way they seek to bridge modern-day conventions with those of the natural world.
Invisible Worlds itself is an immersive visual experience that seeks to showcase the opera of nature that often goes unsung, highlighting the smallest intricacies of our ecosystem and solar system that escape the naked eye. Located on the third floor of the Gilder Center, the exhibition transfers you to a world of scientific education, with interactive screens plastered along the walls to teach you about everything from food webs to the cells that power the human brain. As you walk further in, you enter the main attraction: a spacious, 23-foot-tall oval chamber with angled walls, a mirrored ceiling, and a 360-degree view that can accommodate a crowd of people for one viewing.
The experience itself is a looping 12 minute visualization of scientific data that uses sixteen projectors, sixty audio speakers, and a resolution of more than 100 million pixels to transport audiences into invisible processes that sustain life on Earth. I was whisked away, witnessing the creation of DNA, dead matter recycling itself back into the soil, planktons lighting up as they warn away a giant whale, and jellyfish migrating upwards to feed on algae. The display creatively incorporated the floor into its many interactive elements: Myself and visitors were able to direct water, initiate neurotransmission in the human brain, and illuminate plankton -all using just our feet. This was made possible by state of the art motion sensors that tracked visitor movement and the pressure applied to the floor, turning the entire room into a user interface. After evaluating numerous design agencies, the museum chose Tamschick Media and Space, a Berlin-based firm known for its expertise in media-enhanced scenography, to bring this immersive environment to life. They spent six years on this wondrous digital exploration and spent thousands of hours incorporating research and data sets from institutions ranging from the New York Botanical Garden to the Scripps Institution of Oceanography. For the visual aspects they built 3D renderings of the environments and used LiDar (Light Detection and Ranging) scans of New York City.
What I find most significant about this experience is its overarching theme of networks. This exhibit illustrated the interconnectedness between roots with soil, the neurons in our brain, and the digital communication that now binds the entire world. This was reinforced for me by the statement Vivian Trakinski, the museums director of science visualization and the producer of this experience, stated in the New York Times that museums must evolve beyond merely preserving the past to also serving as conduits for the present -stating that they need to “meet these people where they live.” They need to constantly find ways to enhance the visitor experience or else they become relics of what science communication once was.
Relating this back to the concept of nature versus technology, I feel that Invisible Worlds succeeds in deepening our appreciation and understanding of nature through technological means. However, from a narrative perspective, the exhibition presents its data as isolated phenomena rather than as parts of a gradual, cohesive story. While the visuals and interaction are wondrous, the lack of an overarching structure- moving from the smallest mechanisms to broader impacts- makes the connections between these processes feel less impactful. As an interactive installation, it could benefit from a more deliberate progression that builds toward a broader understanding of how these intricate systems influence one another. This approach would deliver a more powerful and unified message between nature and technology that would stick with visitors.
Despite these narrative pitfalls, Invisible Worlds is a testament to the transformative power of technology when used to amplify our understanding of the natural world. It bridges the gap between what we can see and what we cannot, offering me and fellow visitors a rare glimpse into the hidden networks that sustain life. If the interconnectedness of networks are more pronounced from a storytelling perspective, the exhibition has the potential to be what we all need to witness how technology and nature can coexist and complement one another. In a world where we often see the two as opposing forces, The American Museum of Natural History is showcasing relentlessly that they can be the most powerful allies.
