THREE
Interactive Worlds as Educational Tools for Understanding Arctic Life
Richard Levy and Peter Dawson
Introduction
Interactive 3D worlds and computer modeling can be used to excite interest in the many unique traditional dwellings constructed by indigenous groups in the Canadian High Arctic. General cultural trends toward the use of digital media show greater acceptance by students, teachers, and the public. Beyond mere representation of past architectural forms, digital reconstructions can be used to delve into the behavior and performance of unique structures. In research and teaching, it is now possible to model and investigate the response of these structures to the extreme environmental conditions of the North. In this context, a virtual laboratory can offer teachers case studies that motivate students in their studies of history and culture, as well as math and science. Virtual worlds can also evoke emotive and effectual knowledge in indigenous users. Experiences derived from primary school and college students, and Padleirmiut Inuit Elders who experienced digital reconstructions of precontact Inuit dwellings in a 3D virtual theater (CAVE [computer automated visualization environment]) at the University of Calgary, suggest that virtual environments may also be useful in initiating and establishing archaeological interpretation and discourse, as well as assisting personal identity recovery.
Public Archaeology: Giving Back to the Community
In the United States and Canada, archaeological project funding often stipulates that public opportunity for engagement be provided. The level of participation can be a simple website, a museum display, or a presentation to the community of the archaeological discoveries. Digital imaging can become an essential part of this outreach effort.1 In an effort to make the authors’ research findings in Arctic archaeology more accessible to a larger audience, interactive 3D worlds and computer modeling have been included to excite interest concerning traditional dwellings constructed by indigenous groups.2
With the expansion of broadband into remote communities in the North, it is now possible to extend the reach of these archaeological discoveries to the desktop of a student’s computer, far away from more conventional locations of museums in major and regional centers. In addition, there is the sensitive issue of repatriation of native artifacts. Virtual 3D artifact copies allow archaeologists to return sacred objects to their original communities, while keeping valuable information from the artifacts available for research and study.
Display and Interaction
Finding the appropriate venue for artifact display and interaction requires sensitivity to the object’s type and physical scale. Today, accessing historic materials through the Internet demands that any representation of an object be web-compatible. By placing artifacts in surroundings with other objects, a context is constructed for understanding what life was like in the past. With artifacts that have deep cultural significance, there is also an opportunity to associate virtual objects with myths and ethnographic commentary. In addition, the growth of social media allows users in remote communities to add their comments, stories, videos, or photos to websites with accessible virtual copies of artifacts, as part of a running dialogue that can be shared with the world.
For museums, this connection between the real and virtual offers exciting possibilities of linking physical displays with virtual interactive content. With Arctic content, the authors have experimented with the web, kiosks, and 3D stereoscopic projection systems, including passive and active projection systems, autographic screens, CAVEs, and 3D theaters. These environments have been used for both teaching and museum exhibits. Now with affordable 3D TVs the opportunity to augment museum exhibits and explore whole worlds is possible.3 Ultimately, the success of these new displays will be measured by their ability to engage students and the public in virtual worlds that promote both play and exploration.
Why Create Virtual Objects: Why Laser Scanning?
Creating virtual worlds begins with the conversion of field data and archaeological and historical records into 3D computer models. Creating 3D objects usually requires some knowledge of CAD (computer-aided design). When CAD is used as a tool to create a digital object from drawings and field data, both aesthetic and practical concerns impact the final results. This is particularly true when drawings are incomplete or missing critical dimensions. In this sense CAD models are representations, limited by the data, skill, and time available to a digital artist to translate historic documents into a 3D form. As developers of educational content, a high priority must be given to virtual worlds that present an accurate likeness of archaeological artifacts and their context. With greater acceptance of laser scanning over the last decade, archaeologists now have a tool for accurately creating 3D images of objects from the size of an arrowhead to the extent of a building or city. A major advantage of laser scanning is that measurements can be made off the 3D model without damaging the actual object, avoiding the impact that repeated measurements can have on fragile objects. With laser scanners it is possible to acquire point measurements on a vast scale and at high fidelity. Laser scanners can be designed to capture minute detail, with resolutions as fine as 30 micros, providing researchers with a source of data not possible to acquire with more traditional hand measurement techniques.
Virtual 3D replicas also have distinct advantages over real objects because replicas facilitate a systematic analysis of shape and form. This is particularly self-evident in the case of fragile pottery, where laser-scanning technology has been used to arrive at the shape of a vessel. In cases where only a partial vase has survived, it has been possible to reconstruct the entire pot from the remaining potsherds. In an attempt to automate this process, researchers at the University of Tiburg have developed algorithms that can take a collection of potshards and reassemble the pot into its most likely shape.4
Long-range laser scanning technology can be used to create 3D images of a building or an entire archaeological site. By taking successive scans of a site over time it is possible to create a virtual record of the excavation. The authors’ work on a Mackenzie Inuit house in the western Canadian Arctic on the shore of Richards Island, 3 kilometers south of Kuukpak (69° 20.6΄N and 134° 03.3´W), demonstrates that even in remote locations it is possible to use laser scanning technology in the documentation of archaeological sites.5 Ultimately, this record serves both the researcher’s need for measurements and the conservationist’s interests in monitoring the condition and state of a site over time. By combining the advantages of different laser scanners that capture data at different resolutions, it is now possible to have an accurate record at the scale of a city, the buildings, and the artifacts contained within it.
Case Study: The Reconstruction of a Thule Whalebone House
The reconstruction of a Thule whalebone house provides a case study of laser scanning use for documentation and research that leads to public access to the results of archaeological research. The project’s initial goal was to create a computer reconstruction of a traditional Thule whalebone house of the type found in the North American Arctic and Greenland. These domiciles were constructed by the Thule peoples, who are the cultural and biological ancestors of contemporary Inuit and Eskimo groups of the North American Arctic and Greenland. Thule groups had expanded eastward from the Bering Strait region into the Canadian Arctic by the late twelfth or early thirteenth century. Unlike northwestern Alaska, the coastlines of the Eastern Arctic did not have a ready supply of driftwood to build houses. Consequently, the Thule peoples’ winter houses, composed of a main room, kitchen area, and entrance tunnel, were built with whalebone. A roof structure of whalebone was erected over a house pit lined with flagstone. The raised sleeping platform, kitchen, and storage areas were also built from flagstone. The roof frame would have been covered with hide and a thick heavy layer of sod, and with snowfall, an additional burden would have been placed on these structures.6 Because these structures are encountered only in a collapsed state, archaeologists know little about how these enigmatic houses were actually constructed. Consequently, we hypothesized that a virtual reconstruction of a 3D model of a Thule house from archaeological data could provide new insights into how these dwellings were built.
The reconstruction process would have been difficult, if not impossible, to resolve using 2D drawings. Manual drafting or 2D CAD cannot easily solve a 3D structural system based on organic elements, such as the mandibles, cranium, and maxillas of a whale. Beginning in 2003, the authors began exploring a strategy for creating 3D computer reconstructions of Thule whalebone houses based on earlier field studies. Ultimately, it was hoped that by working in a 3D environment, the potential arrangements of elements found at archaeological sites could be tested for their structural stability.
The first approach considered in solving the geometric problem of reconstructing the frame of the structure from whalebone was begun with the translation of 2D drawings of whale skeletons into 3D models. Given the complexity of these organic forms, however, translation of drawings in plan and elevation proved difficult and time consuming. Laser scanning provided the only means for capturing a 3D image of this complex organic form. Fortunately, a mounted specimen of a North Atlantic right whale exists at the New England Aquarium in Boston (figure 3.1). The North Atlantic right whale (Eubalaena glacialis) is smaller than the bowhead whale (Balaena mysticetus) hunted by Thule groups, but both share a similar skeletal morphology. Using a Cyrax2500, a commercially available laser scanner, an accurate mesh with good accuracy (5 mm) could be achieved.7 Once the million of points were converted into an optimized mesh, it was possible to extract the needed elements required for the reconstruction process.
Modeling in virtual space, the reconstruction process was similar to building the actual physical structure. The first step involved importing the 2D CAD file of information collected in 1994 at the Deblicquy site on Bathurst Island, Nunavut.8 The plan for the largest and best-preserved house (figure 3.2) served as the basis for 3D reconstruction. This CAD data provided essential information for the reconstruction, including the subterranean pit’s topography, extent, and shape, which represent the dimensions of the enclosed space. The list of bone types and sizes was also essential to this reconstruction. This information helped to scale the individual elements built from the laser scanning data. Bones used in the original structure included the mandible, maxilla, cranium, ribs, scapulas, and selected vertebrae. The second step involved extracting the pit from the topography using average depths and pit outlines in the original CAD file. A flagstone floor and elevated sleeping platform using virtual rocks whose shapes, sizes, and color were determined using actual rocks measured at the site. To begin the reconstruction process, 3D Studio MAX was used to virtually build these unique forms by first placing the major construction structural elements (cranium, mandibles, and maxillas) in their locations found on the site. Once in place, a covering of hide could be draped over the superstructure. Sod and snow were then layered on top of the hide, creating the form in summer and winter (figure 3.3).9
The Value of a Virtual Laboratory
One criticism of computer modeling in archaeology is that models are merely pretty pictures. With the availability of high performance PCs, however, a researcher can answer questions about structures from the past. Using CAD and engineering design applications, it is possible to simulate the lighting conditions inside a space or test the behaviors of structures under snow and wind loads. Structural analyses of Thule whalebone houses verified the structural stability of proposed reconstructions. Having conducted these analyses, we can state: “We are not sure what they looked like, but at least we know that the proposed construct could have withstood the environmental harshness of the North, where snow and wind would have collapsed all but the strongest of structures.” In the case of the Thule whalebone architecture, the authors have also used the results of the structural analysis to answer the following questions:
• Given the challenges of working with whalebone, to what extent were Thule houses structurally sound architectural forms?
• Did the use of whalebone in a symbolic capacity affect the structural integrity of whalebone houses?
• Would weaker structures have increased the level of maintenance required to keep the dwelling habitable, or even placed the structure in danger of collapsing?
Multiframe, an application used by structural engineers, was employed to conduct the actual analysis of the structural frame of the Thule whalebone house. Like many FEM (finite element methods) applications, Multiframe has been used to understand potential modes of structural failure.10 With laser scanning technology, accurate 3D data can serve as the basis of these analyses.11 Rather than generalized geometric models based on historical drawings, laser scanning can provide an important snapshot of a building’s current condition. This approach can consider the rate of deterioration over time and how this degradation impacts structural stability. More important with structures subjected to potential catastrophic failures from earthquake, considerable redesign efforts are needed to guarantee the integrity of a structure in the future. As an instructional tool, the approach used in this research, which incorporates cultural-based content, has potential to stimulate students to learn more about math and science. In this case study, these worlds illustrate how an intuitive understanding of structural analysis is essential in building complex architectural forms.
Light, Space, and Activity: Modeling the Light from a Whalebone Lamp
Understanding how ancient cultures lived inside their homes requires knowledge of the lighting technology of the period. Ultimately, simulating the experience of being inside a space reconstructed from archaeological data demands the use of computer software capable of rendering 3D forms under various lighting conditions. Using a virtual world to simulate the experience of being inside a Thule whalebone house provides a case study of how 3D computer models can re-create a sense of space of architectural forms from the past. The first step in simulating light levels inside a Thule winter house was to calibrate the light produced by a whale-oil lamp. A whale-oil lamp provided light levels much lower than Western architectural standards. Inhabitants doing domestic chores in a Thule whalebone house would likely have had to make greater use of their sense of touch. In order to test this idea, replicas of qulliq lamps were crafted out of soapstone. A 60-watt light bulb was used as a standard. By calibrating this standard light source, it was possible to determine the illumination of a whale-oil lamp. In testing replicas of a typical qulliq it was discovered that they would have been capable of producing light equivalent to a 15-watt light bulb.12 Using these data, the computer modeled the illumination in the interior of the space. These light sources are most commonly found to one side of the sleeping platform.13 The reflection of surfaces, such as walls and floors, also influences how light is distributed inside buildings. For the purposes of this experiment, surfaces inside the whalebone house were considered to be reflective at 15 percent (though this value is probably much lower due to the amount of soot that would have been deposited on the walls and floor of the dwelling). Using the Lightscape plug-in for 3D Studio Max, a pseudocolor rendering of the interior of the house was created, mapping both luminance and illuminance. (Luminance is a measure of how bright or dark a surface is perceived, while illuminance measures how much energy has fallen on the surface. Illuminance is also a function of the distance from the light source and is, therefore, a useful measure for gauging the light available to perform domestic tasks [figure 3.4]).
Inside these small dwellings, which lacked interior partitions, the distribution of light and shadow may have been used to “zone” areas of public and private space. For example, the sleeping platforms would have appeared dark even with multiple lamps lit inside the space. Many of the activities found inside a Thule whalebone house would have required higher levels of illuminance by Western standards because individuals must be able to resolve very fine detail or small objects. Light levels close to the source (qulliq lamp) would have provided sufficient light for activities such as cooking (46.45 cd), but not for sewing (92.9 cd).14 The inhabitants would certainly have been able to perform household tasks under much lower levels of light. Archaeological and ethnographic data prove that Inuit and their ancestors were extremely good at carving and sewing. There are many excellent precontact examples.15 Many everyday Inuit objects like harpoons, knives, needle cases, and children’s toys have incised lines arranged in geometric patterns.16 It seems reasonable that under these conditions of prolonged periods of darkness, household members would have compensated for the lower light levels in a manner similar to individuals who are blind or deaf, who often talk about a compensating effect, in which one or more of their remaining senses becomes more acute.17
The results of this study demonstrate that technologies like computer modeling and virtual reality can be used to obtain a more holistic understanding of how humans perceive and interact with the environments they inhabit. Using virtual worlds to reconstruct the sensory ecologies of past landscapes and built environments may afford researchers, teachers, and students an opportunity to explore ideas and theories more fully. Ultimately, it is the means of displaying these results that makes the results of these research findings accessible to students and teachers.
The Virtual Museum Program
With funding from the Virtual Museum Program in 2008, the researchers had the opportunity to create a virtual presence on the web to bring research on Arctic life to the public.18 The mission was to create a site in which visitors would have the opportunity to learn about the environment surrounding Thule life. The site would focus on building materials, domestic architecture, hunting, as well as sources of food and production of clothing. The website would also be devoted to the importance of bowhead whales in Thule culture, including a section on how bowhead whales were hunted, and how various skeletal elements were used in house construction. There would also be sections on “myths” that link the whale to aspects of the “house,” which may have existed as a metaphor for actual living whales.
Once inside the houses, the attention centers on the organization and atmosphere of the interior space. Issues of light, heat, and privacy are explored in relation to the shape of the structure and the whale-oil lamp, which was used to heat and light these houses. While inside the space, the online visitor learns about the tools and implements needed to exist in the Arctic landscape. Organized by men’s, women’s, and children’s objects, animated GIFs of laser-scanned artifacts are presented, including ulus, needles, lamps, bow drills, knives, and toys. Explanations are provided on how they were used for daily tasks. Other aspects of the website included a time line and a section about how 3D imaging and computer modeling was used in the research.
The constructed website, though utilitarian and straightforward in its structure, was constrained by design specifications that barred the use of virtual worlds and online games. In the original proposal a series of virtual environments were suggested to explore life in the Arctic. For example, to introduce virtual visitors to the connection between light and space, a virtual walk-through of the interior was proposed. With only a whale-oil lamp to light the way, the contribution of light to a sense of community or privacy could be revealed. Navigating through the different areas of the interior, one would be introduced to virtual inhabitants who would demonstrate how to use various tools for cooking, hunting, and sewing waterproof clothing. Similarly, it would have been possible to give the web visitor a set of virtual whalebones from which to construct a house. Once completed, a virtual test could be conducted to see if a design could have stood up against the elements of snow and wind. Unfortunately, design specifications that restrict the use of plug-ins and limit performance to computers built more than a decade ago made it difficult to offer these kinds of exploratory environments as part of the web experience.
For those creating learning environments, both technical and institutional constraints are often difficult to predict at the onset of a project. Unlike video designed for consoles with known computing and rendering capability, web-based environments assume a universal audience. Issues of accessibility that come with publicly sponsored programs can place limits on the types of media that can be hosted on a site. Designed for the lowest common denominator, these websites can never be cutting edge. Though there will always be some constraints on a public website, improvements in the general level of personal computing technology should present less restrictive specifications for web designers in the future. Finally, there is always the issue of what is politically acceptable in a publicly sponsored website. For example, it would be inadvisable to show a whale hunt on a website, even though it represents an important aspect of the lives of many Northern communities.
The Kiosk: Museum of Civilization
A few years earlier, a kiosk installation was constructed at the Canadian Museum of Civilization, Ottawa. As part of a special exhibition, “Journey to Kitgaaryuk,” sponsored jointly by the Canadian Museum of Civilization and the Prince of Wales Northern Heritage Centre in Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, an interactive world was developed for a stand-alone kiosk.19 The experience first provided a tour of the outside of an Inuit sod house. The house, a traditional Mackenzie Delta Inuit winter house, was modeled using archaeological, ethnographic, and ethnohistoric data. These types of dwellings would have been constructed out of wood, sod, and caribou or muskox hide even as late as the early nineteenth century. In constructing this virtual model, the user began by exploring the outside of the structure. Once inside, the interior could be examined. Clicking on artifacts located on the sleeping platform of the dwelling activated a video that showed how the objects were used in daily life. For example, clicking on a stone ulu initiated a movie that showed a member of the Inuvialuit community creating a sealskin parka. Located at the center of the gallery, visitors could interact with a virtual model of a sod house while being surrounded by actual artifacts from the region. Like many virtual worlds, one tracker ball provided control over the environment. Several audio headphones were attached to the single kiosk. Curiously, having the control of the environment in the hands of a single person did not present any serious barriers for small groups. One person would naturally gravitate toward navigating the world, while other participants would offer suggestions about where to go next, or would ask questions about the virtual world. Interestingly, young children were most adept at this kind of joint decision making.20
Virtual Reality: At a Larger Scale
At the University of Calgary, students from classes in archaeology have the opportunity to view the whalebone house and other environments, including the skeleton of a baleen whale and an Inuit sod house, in a virtual world in the I-Centre, CAVE. The I-Centre CAVE, designed by Barco Ltd., creates an immersive environment with walls that can be rearranged to form a virtual reality theater or CAVE. A CAVE is a room-sized cube composed of four walls. In the I-Centre, the walls are right, left, center, and floor. Each screen is 8 feet high by 10 feet wide. With the VRPACK module of Virtools (www.Virtools.com), virtual worlds can be viewed in stereo using active shutter glasses. Interactive sound and atmospheric lighting all contribute to the totality of the experience.21
One of the central problems archaeologists face is making their research both interesting and relevant to the broader communities they work with. Archaeologists tend to focus on technical explanations of the past, such as defining the function of a tool, the optimality of diet choices, or the chronometric age of a site. In contrast, indigenous peoples and the general public often relate to the past in more personal and emotive ways. In response, archaeologists have begun to explore the use of narrative structures and conjectural histories to provide an impression of what life might have been like in the past. One of the most famous examples of this type of approach is Janet Spector’s What This Awl Means.22 In Spector’s story, a young aboriginal woman brings recognition to her family through her prowess at sewing and beading. Although based entirely on conjecture, the awl in the story acquires special meaning because of its association with the aspirations of Spector’s young aboriginal protagonist. When the awl is lost, the reader subsequently empathizes with the young woman’s anguish. Its recovery by an archaeologist many centuries later further adds to the object’s emotional impact. Encountering archaeological objects in this way makes them of greater interest to the broader community because the affecting, emotive qualities of the artifact are drawn out through the arc of the story.
In many instances, objects that carry great meaning are inaccessible to indigenous peoples. They may be held in museum collections or, as is the case with Thule whalebone houses, they may no longer exist. In these instances, encountering digital replicas of these objects in immersive environments may provide opportunities for indigenous peoples to explore their heritage in ways that are far more meaningful. Recent research into the use of digital images of ethnographic objects by the Maori of New Zealand suggests that some of the cultural values associated with traditional objects, such as life force, oratory, narratives, and life essence, are transferred to digital replicas of artifacts, to a greater or lesser degree, depending on circumstance.23 This suggests that laser scans of artifacts, and computer models of archaeological features such as dwellings may provide affecting, emotive experiences that might assist in the recovery of personal and cultural identities.
In order to explore this further, three respected Inuit Elders from the community of Arviat, Nunavut, were invited to the iCORE CAVE at the University of Calgary’s Schlumberger iCenter, where they toured the 3D model of a Thule whalebone house. Surrounded by the structure of whalebones and hide, they sat together and whispered among themselves in Inuktitut. “All of the stories I used to hear when I was young are coming back to me,” remarked Mark Kalluak, as he navigated through the virtual dwelling. “It really makes me think about what it would have been like to live in my ancestors’ home.” Donald Uluadluak explained in Inuktitut that he felt like a magician: “No one has ever seen these buildings before. Now we are able to and it will help us understand who we are.” The experience of being able to view the whalebone architecture of the dwelling in 3D also reminded Mark Kalluak of a traditional Inuit tale about a man who lived inside a whale. “Maybe this legend comes from when we lived in these kinds of houses,” he explained.
“It’s hard to imagine something if you’ve never seen it before and something like this makes it so much easier to imagine what life was like in the old days than just reading about it in a book,” said Nunia Qanatsiaq, a member of the government of Nunavut’s curriculum and school services division who accompanied the Elders to Calgary. For Mark Kalluak, exploring traditional lifeways using computer animation is exciting because it may excite interest in younger Inuit who are becoming increasingly computer literate. “A lot of young people don’t seem too interested in learning about the old ways, but I think they would with something like this,” he said. “It’s a new way for them to learn and that is always valuable.”
Comments shared with us by Inuit Elders about their experiences within the CAVE suggest that their encounters with the digital whalebone house and the objects contained within were both emotive and affecting. The Elders seemed genuinely moved by their experiences, as communicated through their awe at what their ancestors had been able to accomplish centuries ago. The Elders’ immersion in this virtual world of their own past also served as a powerful mnemonic device, as seen in Mark Kalluak’s recollection of a childhood story involving a man swallowed by a whale. All indications are that the Elders recognized their encounter as a simulation and therefore not an authentic view of their past. Nevertheless, they appreciated the experience because it moved them closer to a point of contact with their own history and identity. In this way, it would seem as though meanings and values can be transferred to digital replicas of traditional objects, especially when placed in immersive environments like the CAVE.
University, high school, and primary students have also had the opportunity to view the whalebone house and other archaeological reconstructions within the iCORE CAVE. Like the Elders, their experiences provided them with an appreciation for the geometric complexity of these dwellings, and the challenges of working with construction materials as unique as whalebone (figure 3.5). The ability to discover the connections between space, light, and culture is an advantage of virtual exploration of the space at actual human scale.
One issue in using the CAVE for these types of immersive experiences is that interaction is generally limited to a single user. Without trackers and other input devices, the experience is more like a 3D movie for most of the students. Though CAVEs are not common on most college campuses, the ability to construct multiscreen immersive environments from standard workstations and inexpensive flat panel displays will greatly expand their use in research and education. In a museum environment, the real challenge is creating experiences that will open opportunities for the user to interact with the virtual world (see figure 3.6).24
3D Virtual Reality Theaters
In 2008, Dessault Systemes announced a competition for designing virtual world experiences for the Geode in Paris. A goal of this competition was the promotion of 3DVIA, an integrated development platform. 3DVIA (Virtools) provides tools for creating interactive worlds for display on PCs, CAVES, and 3D theaters. Ultimately, the virtual worlds resulting from this competition would be showcased in the Geode, the largest virtual reality theater in the world. Reopened in 2008 after renovation, this sphericalshaped theater is located in the Parc de la Villette at the Cité des Sciences et de l’Inustrie in Paris (figure 3.7). First constructed to show movies in IMAX format, it also has the capability of presenting 3D interactive worlds.25
In this competition it was possible for the authors to draw on assets from worlds created over several years, including 3D computer reconstructions of a Thule Inuit whalebone house, as well as a virtual kayak simulation. In addition to these completed structures, learning objects created with long-and short-range scanners were also utilized. These objects ranged in size from a small stone ulu to the much larger skeleton of a North Atlantic right whale.
Using a traditional story or myth as the underlying plot for a game is a common strategy among game developers. In this project, myths and stories collected by researchers visiting the far North, including Knud Rasmussen of the Danish Fifth Thule Expedition (1921–24), provided the background for the virtual experience focused on life in the Arctic. One tale in particular, “The Raven’s Story,” became the underlying plotline for the virtual world.26 Ultimately, a quest (a genre that is well understood by game makers) was used as the armature for “Exploring Arctic Cultures.”
In the prologue, you are given your mission, to find your way home with the help of mythical creatures. To help guide you, whale-oil lamps, which appear suspended about the water, light your journey. At the beginning of your quest you are introduced to the Raven, whose story will be retold during your journey (figure 3.8). For the Inuit, the connection between one’s life, nature, and myth would have been reaffirmed by everyday experiences.27 To emphasize this connection, many of the mythical characters, represented by their likenesses in stone, are found in natural state swimming, dancing, or flying. The setting is also used to reinforce the sensation that you are in a mythical world. Here in the world of endless dusk, both night and day exist together. Huge icebergs, mirrored by their reflection on the water, appear to be floating magically on the sea, underscoring the connection between the mythical and physical worlds.28
At the end of your journey, you find yourself inside a traditional Inuit house. Here, objects that have been created by laser scanning actual artifacts can be found. Each object serves as a mnemonic placeholder for accounts of everyday life.29 In this space you find an ulu, harpoon, snowknife, adz, sewing needle, and thimble. Accompanied by video and animations, objects are shown in context. For example, in one video, a pick, adz, and snowknife are shown being used to create basic shelter.
Though designed for a virtual theater, the experience has been shown to fourth-and fifth-graders in the I-Centre facility. It was also made available over the Internet as a download that plays inside Internet Explorer or Mozilla Firefox. Though designed for a virtual theater, “The Raven’s Story” has been shown to more than two hundred fourth-and fifth-grade classes in the I-Centre facility as part of the summer program sponsored by the University of Calgary. What has been learned from this experience in the CAVE is that even when students do not have direct control over movement within the virtual world, it is possible to create an engaging experience by using a series of questions and responses. A challenge using an interactive world in a theater setting is building into the experience a feeling of participation during the actual experience.
Discussion and Summary
Interactive 3D worlds and computer models can be used to excite interest in indigenous culture. With the growing acceptance of digital media by students, teachers, and the public, it is now possible to employ virtual worlds that can both entertain and educate. Virtual worlds and advanced multimedia that go beyond mere representation can be used to delve into the behavior and performance of unique architectural forms. In addition to motivating students to learn about cultural history, archaeology, math, and science, these virtual worlds have been used to evoke emotive and effectual knowledge in indigenous users. The experiences with primary school and college students as well as Padleirmiut Inuit Elders who experienced digital reconstructions of Inuit dwellings in a 3D virtual theater (CAVE) at the University of Calgary suggest that virtual environments may be useful in initiating and establishing archaeological interpretation and discourse as well as assisting personal identity recovery.
In creating a virtual world for teaching and public education, venue is always an important consideration. Learning can take place on a computer in a lab, in a classroom in front of a Smartboard, in a museum gallery, or in a university CAVE like the one at the University of Calgary. Each presupposes a different level of engagement. Worlds designed for the individual user must be self-contained, with careful attention paid to the design of an intuitive interface, virtual guides, and online help. Virtual worlds designed for small gatherings of individuals around a single display can create experiences that promote social interaction. In a theater where individuals sit on benches or banked rows of theater chairs, the opportunity for engagement with a virtual world only occurs with the assistance of a guide. In this setting, the use of questions and responses from the audience can provide some sense of spontaneity and exploration in the virtual world. With the growing use of audience response systems—“clickers”—it may be possible to improve engagement with larger groups. Having been used successfully at many universities, this technology could also be implemented in museum settings.
Currently, plans are being developed for a website that will build on the researchers’ past experience with virtual worlds. In addition to databases of artifacts, virtual worlds, and videos, plans are being made to preload content devoted to life in the North. It is hoped that this initial content will serve as the basis of a community-based repository. By allowing members of the community to add comments, personal stories, videos, and photos to the site, it will be possible to encourage the sharing of local history. One goal of this project is to provide opportunities, through a virtual space, to share content using a repository structure that gives open access to contributors and users. Perhaps most important of all, the project is designed to support and embody the idea of constructivist learning, in which learners construct knowledge for themselves. The idea is that as they learn they are building meaning, both individually and in groups.
It is also hoped that this project will benefit the community. For example, by giving artisans and craft persons access to a virtual space to display their work, they will reach a much larger community. Though at the early stages of development, one possibility being explored is to use existing social media sites like Facebook, Myspace, and Google Earth as mechanisms for disseminating content and encouraging members of Northern communities to participate in this discussion. Facebook is commonly used by many members of the Northern communities. Having this link into Facebook, the researchers hope to build on the current capacity established over the last few years to link into existing collections of family stories, images, and videos that will ultimately contribute to the preservation of local history and traditional knowledge.
NOTES
1. Alonzo C. Addison, “Emerging Trends in Virtual Heritage,” IEEE Multimedia (April–June 2000): 22–25; idem, “Virtual Heritage—Technology in the Service of Culture,” Proceedings of the 2001 Conference on Virtual Reality, Archaeology and Cultural Heritage (November 2001): 28–30; Johannes Bauerlein, Rafael Pokorski, Stefan Maass, and Jürgen Dolner, “Visualization Project of Roman Cologne—How to Make VR Models Available for Scientific Work,” Computer Application and Quantitative Methods in Archaeology, Proceedings (2007): 126; Marcello Carrozzino, Chiara Evangelista, A. Scucces, Franco Tecchia, G. Tennirelli, and Massimo Bergamasco, “The Virtual Museum of Sculpture,” 3rd International Conference on Digital Interactive Media in Entertainment and Arts, DIMEA (2008): 100–106.
2. Erik Champion, “Applying Game Design Theory to Virtual Heritage Environments,” Proceedings of the 1st International Conference on Computer Graphics and Interactive Techniques in Australasia and South East Asia (2003): 273–74.
3. Kiyoshi Takenaka and Franklin Paul, “WRAPUP 2-Sony, Samsung Detail 3D TV Plans,” Reuters, March 9, 2010, accessed July 31, 2012, http://www.reuters.com/article/idUSN0922582320100309.
4. Laurens van der Maaten and Guus Lange, “Visualization and Automatic Typology of Ceramic Profiles,” CAA Proceedings (2009): 153–54.
5. Peter C. Dawson, Richard M. Levy, Gerald Oetelaar, Charles Arnold, and Dominic Lacroix, “Documenting Mackenzie Inuit Architecture Using 3D Laser Scanning,” Alaska Journal of Anthropology 7 (2009): 31–44.
6. Moreau S. Maxwell, Prehistory of the Eastern Arctic (New York: Academic, 1985); Robert McGhee, Canadian Arctic Prehistory (Toronto: Van Nostrand Reinhold, 1978).
7. Wolfgang Boehler and Andreas Marbs, “3D Scanning Instruments,” Proceedings of the CIPA WG6 International Workshop on Scanning for Cultural Heritage Recording (2002), accessed July 31, 2012, http://www.i3mainz.fh-mainz.de/publicat/korfu/p05_Boehler.pdf; M. Johansson, “Explorations into the Behavior of Three Different High-Resolution Ground-Based Laser Scanners in the Built Environment,” Proceedings of the CIPA WG International Workshop on Scanning for Cultural Heritage Recording (2003): 33–38.
8. Peter Dawson, “Interpreting Variability in Thule Inuit Architecture: A Case Study from the Canadian High Arctic,” American Antiquity 66 (2001): 453–70.
9. Peter C. Dawson, Richard M. Levy, and Charles Arnold, “Reconstructing Traditional Inuit House Forms Using 3 Dimensional Interactive Computer Modeling,” Visual Studies (2004): 26–35.
10. Alberto Guarnieri, Francesco Pirotti, Marco Pontin, and Antonio Vettore, “Combined 3D Surveying Techniques for Structural Analysis Applications,” Proceedings of the ISPRS Working Group V/4 Workshop 3D-ARCH 2005 (August 2005): 22–24.
11. V. Cóias e Silva, Paulo B. Lourenço, and Luís F. Ramos, “Portugal Accounting for the ‘Block Effect’ in Structural Interventions in Lisbon’s Old ‘Pombaline’ Downtown Buildings,” in Historical Constructions, ed. P. B. Lourenço and P. Roca (Guimarães Portuguese Science and Technology Foundation [FCT], 2001), technical report, accessed July 31, 2012, http://www.civil.uminho.pt/masonry/Publications/2001_Silva_et_al.pdf.
12. Peter C. Dawson, Richard M. Levy, D. Gardner, and M. Walls, “Simulating the Behavior of Light Inside Arctic Dwelling: Implications for Assessing the Role of Visual Perception in Task Performance,” World Archaeology 39, no. 1 (2007): 17–35.
13. Elmer Ekblaw, “The Material Response of the Polar Eskimos to Their Far Arctic Environment,” Annals of the Association of American Geographers 17, no. 4 (1927): 147–98; D. Jenness, Material Culture of the Copper Eskimos, Report of the Canadian Arctic Expedition, 1913–1918, vol. 16 (Ottawa: Edmond Cloutier, King’s Printer and Controller of Stationery, 1946); T. Mathiassen, Archaeology of the Central Eskimos (Copenhagen: Glydendalske Boghandel, 1946).
14. Wesley Woodson, Barry Tillman, and Peggy Tillman, Human Factors Design Handbook: Information and Guidelines for the Design (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1992).
15. Maxwell.
16. Maxwell; Mathiassen; McGhee; Peter James Whitridge, “The Construction of Difference in a Prehistoric Whaling Community” (Ph.D. dissertation, Arizona State University, 1999); idem, “Landscapes, Houses, Bodies, Things: ‘Place’ and the Archaeology of Inuit Imaginaries,” Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory 11, no. 2 (2004): 213–50.
17. Constance Classen, David Howes, and Anthony Synott, Aroma: The Cultural History of Smell (London: Routledge, 1994).
18. Glenbow Museum, “Thule Whalebone House,” Virtual Museum Program, accessed July 31, 2012, http://www.glenbow.org/thule/?lang=en&p=home (2008).
19. Richard Levy, “Interactive Multimedia Learning Program,” Canadian Museum of Civilization Exhibit, Ottawa, November 6, 2003, to January 9, 2005.
20. Levy.
21. Addison, “Emerging Trends”; Erhard Berndt and Jose Carlos, “Cultural Heritage in the Mature Era of Computer Graphics,” IEEE Computer Graphics and Applications 20, no. 1 (January–February 2000): 36–37.
22. Janet Spector, What This Awl Means: Feminist Archaeology at the Wahpeton Dakota Village (St. Paul: Minnesota Historical Society Press, 1993).
23. Deidre Brown, “Te Ahua Hiko: Digital Cultural Heritage and Indigenous Objects, People, and Environments,” in Theorizing Digital Cultural Heritage: A Critical Discourse, ed. Fiona Cameron and Sarah Kenderdine (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2007), 77–91.
24. Champion, 273–74.
25. Dessault Systemes, Virtual Reality Competition, 2008.
26. Knud Rasmussen, Eskimo Folk Tales, trans. W. Worster (London: Gylglendal, 1921).
27. Whitridge, “The Construction of Difference.”
28. Elizabeth Losh, “The Palace of Memory: Virtual Tourism and Tours of Duty in Tactical Iraqi and Virtual Iraq,” Proceedings of the 2006 International Conference on Games (2006): 77–86.
29. George Sabo III, G. Jacobs, and John D. Jacobs, “Aspects of Thule Culture Adaptations in Southern Baffin Island,” Arctic 33, no. 3 (1980): 487–504.
