Category Archives: Guerrilla Interpretation

Guerrilla Interpretation – Do It Yourself

July 6, 2016Guerrilla InterpretationGalveston, interpretation, jamaicatedleeeubanks

Jamaican weevil (Lachnopus sp.) by Ted Lee Eubanks

One man alone can be pretty dumb sometimes, but for real bona fide stupidity, there ain’t nothin’ can beat teamwork. Edward Abbey

There is really no limit to interpretative subjects within our chosen world of nature, history, and culture (blandly known as heritage). But, often the subjects that are the most important to our interpretation are among the most obscure. How do we bring that which is hidden or concealed to the attention of the world?

Here is an example. There is a world of “stock” content available for interpreting bald eagles and monarch butterflies. The result? An abundance of interpretive materials (signs, brochures, displays) about these two species. What happens when you need to interpret a species (let’s stick with nature) that is poorly known and for which there are few or no illustrations or content?

Here is are couple of examples of why we promote a “do it yourself” approach in guerrilla interpretation. I recently completed a set of interpretive panels for a new wildlife sanctuary on Galveston Island, Texas. The new sanctuary, perched on the lip of the island, hosts a variety of wildlife species poorly known to both scientists and the public.

Yet, for our interpretive plan to be effective, we needed to show many of these obscure species. The solution? Do it myself. I spent many days hiking the preserve, photographing those tiny insects and obscure birds that would be critical to the efficacy of our panels.

Through this effort, I gathered a collection of photographs that allowed us to create three panels of nothing but images to accompany the storyline panels. To be honest, we could have easily created another dozen panels with all of the images I took.

Coastal Heritage Preserve Insects by Ted Lee Eubanks

The value of this effort extends beyond interpretation. For example, I photographed a robber fly known only as Proctacanthella robusta. This beach-roving predator has been only rarely photographed. In fact, my image in Bugguide (an on-line repository for insect images created by Iowa State University) is the first ever deposited there (even though their collection has grown to over 1 million images). Science benefits from our interpretive inventory efforts as well.

The image at the top of the page is another example. This weevil has no name. It has yet to be described by science. I photographed this fancy insect in the Cockpit Country of Jamaica while working on another interpretive project, the Caribbean Birding Trail (CBT). I used this image in interpreting one of the more important storylines in the CBT interpretive plan, the one dealing with island endemism.

[Please check out the CBT website at the link above. I love the way that the storylines (subthemes to some of you) from my interpretive plan scroll across the top of the landing page.]

Guerrilla interpretation is entirely focused on applied interpretation, not theory. The goal is to help develop interpreters that are self-sufficient, capable of independently taking an interpretive project from inventory to planning, planning to design, and from design to fabrication. To be able to work as a guerrilla interpreter, you need to be able to do it yourself.

I will give a short talk about guerrilla interpretation at the NAI conference in Corpus Christi, 8-12 November 2016 , and I hope to see you there.

Ted Lee Eubanks
6 July 2016

Good interpreters copy, great interpreters steal

October 9, 2015Fermata, Guerrilla Interpretationcreativity, flat design, ideas, interpretationtedleeeubanks

I stole this quote.

Actually, I stole the form, and then modified it to fit my specific need. Pablo Picasso is most often credited with the form (good artists copy, great artists steal), but I can find references from T.S. Elliott (the immature poet imitates; the mature poet plagiarizes), Igor Stravinsky (lesser artists borrow; great artists steal), and William Faulkner (immature artists copy, great artists steal). I suspect that they all stole the form from someone else.

Steve Jobs used the same form in developing his rationale for lifting ideas such as the computer mouse from others. Jobs said, “It comes down to trying to expose yourself to the best things that humans have done and then try to bring those things in to what you’re doing. I mean Picasso had a saying he said good artists copy great artists steal. And we have always been shameless about stealing great ideas.”

Jobs found a way to hide in the shadow of another (in his case, Picasso) to justify his thievery. Steve Jobs had visited Xerox’s Palo Alto Research Center in the late 1970’s, and saw a demonstration of a new three-button computer mouse. The problem? The mouse cost $300 to manufacture. Jobs took the Xerox idea to an industrial designer and developed a new mouse with only one button. The cost dropped to $15. Jobs had invented his mouse with a Xerox idea that he lifted.

The Macintosh and its mouse benefited humankind; we justify the theft as being a necessary part of the creative process. Newton’s quote comes to mind, “If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of Giants.” Does it matter that Xerox’s contributions have been forgotten, and that others like Jobs have been credited with what Xerox created first?

Interpreters steal. Some steal content, like photographs for an interpretive panel that someone else took. Some cut-and-paste from Wikipedia, or lift from a graduate student’s thesis that surely no one will ever remember. These are all examples of blatant theft.

Interpreters also steal ideas. We freely share our interpretive techniques and concepts. We are flattered when others use them.

Interpretation benefits from the sharing of ideas. We advance as a whole when someone creates an improved way to design a panel, or develops a better wayfinding app, or uncovers a new insight into a moment in history. But, where do we draw the line between sharing and stealing?

Eric Westendorf recently wrote an article for Forbes titled Stealing in the Classroom: Why Teachers Should Steal Like Coders. He identified three qualities of coders that have led, he believes, to a more progressive coding environment.

• Coders collaborate.
• Coders seek examples of features they are trying to build.
• When coders find a good example, they also find the code. Coders improve on the “stolen” code, then share the improved code with the world of coders.

I know nothing of coders; I assume that Westendorf’s assessments are accurate. I also see some of these same characteristics in interpretation. We do collaborate, we do look for better ways, and we do, at times, share with others.

Interpretation is locked in a small room without windows, and we inhale each other’s exhaust.

What happens when the same ol’ ideas are being stolen and circulated? Rather than looking for the better way, what if the interpreter (or, more specifically, their employer or client) is looking for cheaper or less risky ways? What if efforts to standardize interpretation are more focused on limiting risk than inspiring creativity?

Interpretation is locked in a small room without windows. We inhale each other’s exhaust. Our ideas are recycled rather than rekindled.

Whether or not we steal isn’t the issue. We steal from the wrong people. Rather than swiping from each other, we should be going outside of the profession to find new ideas and approaches. Graphic design, environmental sociology, geography, creative writing, art history, advertising, and computer engineering are examples of disciplines with ideas and approaches that could help stretch the outer bounds of interpretation.

Here is an example. In the past couple of years, I have used flat design in the development of interpretive panels. Flat design has been popularized in the design of software user interfaces, and argues for simplicity, clarity, and honesty of materials. This approach uses simplified design (forget the text shadows, photographed backgrounds, and signs shaped like a salmon), bright colors, and visual clarity to enhance the user’s experience.

Flat design seems a natural for the interpretive environment. A quick review of the research literature reveals the need to increase the number of people that actually read interpretive panels (or are attracted to read them in the first place).

Flat design would appear to be a concept, a philosophy, to steal. The software industry will not be offended. They stole the idea from the Swiss and the Bauhaus school in 1920s Germany.

Whether or not we steal isn’t the issue. We steal from the wrong people.

The industrialized interpretation promoted by the agencies and, to a less degree, the universities, has done much to standardize interpretation. Standardization also stifles. Interpretation, as an independent discipline, needs to escape these prescribed limits. Looking outside of the profession for inspiration and ideas is an obvious path forward.

Simplicity and Repose

May 28, 2015Fermata, Guerrilla Interpretationinterpretation, simplicity, skillstedleeeubanks

Truth is ever to be found in the simplicity, and not in the multiplicity and confusion of things – Isaac Newton

Interpretation gravitates to the complex. Maybe all human systems have a natural inclination toward convolution, like stormwater sprinting downstream. Bureaucracies certainly hint at this drift. There is refuge to be found in the minutia of complexity.

The principles of interpretation aren’t complex. The rules are limited; the doctrine is easy to grasp. The role of the interpreter is to simplify the complex, not to complicate the simple.

What is difficult to master is the practice of interpretation. The underpinnings of interpretation can be fathomed in a single sitting; the skills that are required demand time, patience.

One can master art history without being an artist. One can become an expert in modern American poetry without being a poet. There is value in art historians and literary critics.

And certainly, one can learn the principles of interpretation without being an interpreter.

The role of the interpreter is to simplify the complex, not to complicate the simple.

Interpretation, as a practice rather than a subject, is mastered through the application of simple principles using skills and intuition that are gained through years of repetition and practice. These principles and skills are means to an end, not ends unto themselves.

The end or objective of interpretation is revelation (Sam Ham calls this objective epiphany). This objective defines interpretation. Revelation is what separates interpretation from its relatives such as technical and scientific writing.

The techniques used to achieve this objective are as numerous and as varied as the people who have mastered the practice. A guitar may have only six strings, yet no two guitarists approach the guitar with identical technical skills. A work of art may consist only of paint and canvas, but the techniques used by a painter are as individual as a fingerprint.

An interpreter gains more than skills with practice; an interpreter gains intuition. A standup comedian quickly learns how to read the crowd. An interpreter learns how to gauge his or her audience. A comedian counts laughs; an interpreter counts revelations.

An interpretive approach that provokes revelation is successful; one that doesn’t fails. Interpretive success or failure, or which techniques are better or worse, are arguments that are only meaningful within the context of revelation. Otherwise, these debates only complicate the practice of interpretation.

Guerrilla interpretation is an applied approach to the craft. At the heart of this approach are the basic, elementary skills that must be mastered to become a practitioner of the interpretive arts. Knowledge and creativity are critical to the practice, as well. Yet without the skills, knowledge and creativity are impossible to express or apply in a way that stimulates revelation.

Simplicity and repose are the qualities that measure the true value of any work of art – Frank Lloyd Wright

What is a theme?

May 24, 2015Fermata, Guerrilla Interpretationguerrilla, interpretation, principles, theme, tildentedleeeubanks

Sunrise on the Colorado River below Longhorn Dam by Ted Lee Eubanks

What is a theme? A theme to me should be the same as to you. An interpretive theme doesn’t differ from a literary theme. There is no need for a new definition of an age-old (Aristotelian) literary concept.

The theme is the main idea or underlying message of a literary work. The theme is a tool that unifies the various elements of the book or essay. A literary work can have more than one theme, although there is often a single theme that underlies the work.

The theme, more importantly, is a central insight that the author provides through his or her writing. A theme is revelatory. In our case, the theme is the central insight (or insights) that the interpreter provides through their interpretation. The most powerful themes are those with insights into the human condition. In other words, the theme of an interpretive walk, if lucky, offers insight not only into nature but into the human experience, as well.

Let’s use my hike along the trail from my previous article as an example. If you remember, I start themelessly. The only sideboards that I place on my interpretation is the trail itself (a thing, not a meaning). The trail and its inhabitants are the subject, not the theme.

I am interested in interpreting what I see and experience. But, walking the trail and simply identifying the flora and fauna offers no insight either into this natural system or into our role within this system. This is guiding, not interpretation. This is information, not revelation.

Field guides, as an example, rarely offer meanings. Field guides are useful tools in identifying things (birds, Civil War weaponry, roadkill) and thus contribute to the overall knowledge that is a necessary part of interpretation. But, being able to tell warblers apart by their tail spots isn’t interpretation in its own right. This is guiding, begging for interpretation. This is information, begging for revelation.

At the start of our walk, I notice a black-and-yellow lichen moth, a highly specialized species. If need be, I could use a field guide to identify the moth. Once I know its identity, I am ready to consider how it will serve my interpretive needs.

I decide that the moth and its dependence on lichen can serve as a motif for the remainder of the walk (think about the simple motif that Ravel uses in Bolero). Specialization restates itself with other species such as the poison-ivy sawfly and the Hercules club beetle. These species become the repeated motif within my theme of specialization.

But, of course, a guerrilla interpreter doesn’t stop with specialization in insects. That theme is too limiting, too restrictive, too shallow. I extend that theme to one that is universal. My theme focuses the walk on the rewards of specialization and its risks within a changing world. In other words, I extend the theme to include the human experience.

I am not finished, though. As I mentioned in the article, there is a take away, a conservation message, that will serve as a coda. A diverse ecosystem supports diverse wildlife. Without the lichen, there is no lichen moth.

I could, in the same talk, note that a diverse economy provides employment opportunities for a diverse population, as well. But, the interpreter’s role is not to spoon-feed meanings. As I said in the previous article, we plow the ground where a visitor’s own ideas and revelations can be nurtured. In this case, I will leave the visitor with a clear understanding of the relationship between rich and diverse habitats and biodiversity, and let them explore the universality of this simple message.

My theme focuses the walk on the rewards of specialization and its risks within a changing world. In other words, I extend the theme to include the human experience.

Of course, I could write this out in advance. But why? What if I don’t see the black-and-yellow lichen moth at the beginning of the walk? What if I see the Indian blanket moth instead? If I see the Indian blanket moth first, I will allow that moment of opportunity to introduce an entirely different underlying message, that of the advantages and risks of blending into your environment.

Prescripted interpretation for the trail would need to rise above these unexpected opportunities. Such a plan would need to be organized around a more general theme (“an interpretive trail offers diverse opportunities for understanding the natural world”, or some similarly tasteless, textureless pablum). Since we are engaged in in situ interpretation, I would want to be sure that what I am interpreting is actually “in situ.” Otherwise, I am left interpreting a ghost, a figment, rather than a thing.

Are there advantages to the extemporaneous approach? Absolutely. For the interpreter, every day starts with a clean slate. Nature (or whatever the subjects might be) offers the cues, and challenges the interpreter to take the audience to places they, as well as the interpreter, have never been before. I will argue that the process is exhilarating to the audience, as well as the performer (the interpreter). This is walking the interpretive tightrope without a net.

Is this a better methodology? No. As I said in my article, the extemporaneous approach, an element of guerrilla interpretation, isn’t for everyone. You need to have the chops.

What does it take to master interpretation? You must be knowledgeable (about the profession as well as about the subject). You must be skilled (presentation, design, illustration, etc.). And, you must be creative. If the theme of a walk is its central insight, then give us a view that is new. Give us a revelation (didn’t Tilden say something to the effect that interpretation is revelation based upon information.)

I cannot think of a better way to exploit Tilden’s first principle – Any interpretation that does not somehow relate what is being displayed or being described to something within the personality or experience of the visitor will be sterile. Use what is at hand (the black-and-yellow lichen moth), and then embed that motif within a universal theme (the risks and rewards of specialization in a rapidly changing world).

And, of course, do all of this on the fly. Go guerrilla.

Indian blanket moth (Schinia volupia), Austin, Texas, by Ted Lee Eubanks

Interpretive Jazz

May 23, 2015Fermata, Guerrilla Interpretationextemporaneous, interpretation, jazztedleeeubanks

: Colorado River below Longhorn Dam, Austin, Texas, by Ted Lee Eubanks

If you aspire to being something more than a guide, or an usher, or a glorified bush beater, then you will need to provide a service beyond finding things. You will need to find meanings.

Every program or tour doesn’t need to have a theme. You can function as a guide for example, and themes may never cross your mind. Take bird guides. Bird guides can find, call, attract, and identify birds. As long as they can do the above, a bird guide will be successful. Birding clients demand little more than an expanded life list. This isn’t interpretation, though. This is guiding.

If you aspire to being something more than a guide, or an usher, or a glorified bush beater, then you will need to provide something beyond finding things. You will need to find meanings. The moment that you cross that fine line between a thing and its meaning, you enter the rarefied air of interpretation.

Interpreters explore meanings. Meanings aren’t spoon-fed to the listener or reader. An interpreter only prepares the fertile ground where the visitor’s own meanings will grow. A theme is one way to define the boundaries of this fertile ground.

Themes shouldn’t throttle meanings. Themes are meant to be flexible, malleable. In fact, one strategy of guerrilla interpretation is to adapt the theme of a program as opportunities present themselves.

Adaptability is one of an interpreter’s greatest strengths when interpreting nature, for example. Nature changes with every new day, with every new moment. You can walk the same trail every day for the remainder of your life, and each day’s experiences will be singular. Why not take advantage of what each moment brings by being alert to their interpretive opportunities?

Black-and-yellow lichen moth (Lycomorpha pholus), Austin, Texas, by Ted Lee Eubanks

Here is an example. I walked along the Colorado River in Austin last week, just as I do virtually every day. I carried my camera (as I do virtually every day, as well). I noticed an interesting moth perched on a beggar’s tick (hedge-parsley), and took a couple of quick images. I identified the moth as a black-and-yellow lichen moth. The caterpillars of this moth only eat lichen.

Now, think of where I could take the program based on this one moth. I could talk about specialization, and how evolution favors those organisms that succeed by specializing in a way to avoid competitive exclusion. I could then interpret the lichens that the caterpillars are feeding on. I could talk about how lichens have succeeded through the symbiotic relationship between a fungus and an algae (or a cyanobacteria). I could talk about how lichens also have few competitors, and that the moth’s caterpillars are among the few predators that a lichen faces. And, I can pose the obvious question. What happens to a specialist when that plant or tree they depend on has been eliminated or destroyed? No lichen; no lichen moth.

Lichen, Austin, Texas, by Ted Lee Eubanks

I would argue that the opportunity of the moment, the moth, gives me enough material for several programs, each branded and bound together with its own theme (symbiosis, specialization, competitive exclusion). I probably would have chosen specialization as my theme since I know of other species and stories along the way that will fit under that theme. Along the same trail, there is a sawfly whose young only feed on poison ivy, and a beetle that only feeds on the Hercules club tree. From there, I could expand to include the notion of biodiversity and endangered species.

Or, maybe I would have organized my walk around cryptic species, those that blend in with their surroundings. An example that I often see along my trail is the Indian blanket moth (Schinia volupia). The caterpillars of this moth only feed on Indian blanket (Gaillardia pulchella), and the adults are rarely seen away from the blossoms.

Guerrilla interpretation like I have described isn’t for everyone. Here’s an analogy. There are musicians that play from a written score. An orchestra is the perfect example of this approach. You play the notes that have been written for you.

On the other hand, there are musicians that take a basic melodic line and then extemporize. Jazz is the perfect example of such an approach. When you extemporize you walk the tight rope without a net. Not everyone is comfortable with playing extemporaneously, just as not everyone is comfortable with guerrilla interpretation. But, if you have the chops (talent, skill, experience, inspiration), this approach offers additional, expanded opportunities for engaging and inspiring an audience.

I may start a walk themelessly, and wait for the opportunity of the moment to bring inspiration and order to my walk. But, this isn’t to say that my program or talk remains themeless. I am an interpreter, not a guide. I simply wait for nature to give the cue.

Indian blanket moth (Schinia volupia), Colorado River, Austin, Texas, by Ted Lee Eubanks

Ted Eubanks' Fermatainc

all interpretation, all content, all original