In the blog today, we have an update from Marlena, our archive cataloguing intern working on our collection from the Astley Ainslie SMART Centre, which focuses on the development of artificial limbs in Edinburgh:
Hello again from Marlena! I am now halfway through my
cataloguing internship, which has been a wonderful way to get some hands-on
archive experience alongside my studies with the University of Dundee. I make
no apologies for the ‘heavy-handed’ use of word play in the following post!
As you may have seen in my previous post, I am currently
cataloguing a collection donated by David Gow, inventor of the first ‘bionic’
prosthetic hand. Over the past few weeks, I have reviewed the material, trying
to figure out how records relate to one another and how I can group these items
to make them easier to find for future users. Now that I have a better grasp on
what we hold, and how I want to arrange things, I am putting the records into
the University's collections management system, ArchivesSpace.
I think the most exciting revelation to me is the ways in
which engineering and archives offer a similar way of looking at things. For
both, you need to understand how the things you create will be used by others.
When you are drafting a structure with which to arrange archives, it is
important to think about who will be using your collection, as well as who
created the records and for what purpose. A patient might be photographed in
order to work out the kind of prosthetic needed, but that photograph might
later be valuable to them for constructing a personal narrative or supporting
past memories. Similarly, bio-engineering is not just about figuring out how to
build something, but also about how that object is going to be used once it is
built. In short, both archives and engineering are about problem solving, and
about connecting seemingly unconnected things in order to make a useful whole. For
example, when I was cataloguing, I had to ask myself: "What is the connection
between airplanes, puppets, and motorcycle helmets?"
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As someone coming from a humanities background, I am embarrassed to admit that I had no idea what a Bowden cable was prior to this internship, and I didn’t want to catalogue something I didn’t understand. Was this something exotic and unusual? The short answer is no. A Bowden cable transmits mechanical force by the movement of an inner cable which is guided by an outer protective sleeve. For those without a technical background, this might sound vaguely esoteric, but it is actually quite simple. If you’ve ever ridden a bicycle, chances are you’re familiar with the concept. Bowden cables originate with late 19th century innovations to bicycle brakes and are still used as bicycle brake cables today. When force is exerted on the inner cable (for example by pulling the brake), the cable carries the force from one end to another, with the outer housing guiding the inner cable’s movement. You can take advantage of that principle for the movement of fingers.
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| Notes on 'the Airplane Hand', presented at a Dundee conference in 1967, Acc10/001 |
Once you wrap your head around how Bowden cables work on a
bicycle, you can begin to understand how they work within prosthetic hands, and
you can start to see how airplanes and motorcycle helmets relate to the rest of
the collection: as ways of understanding how things work, and how you can use
the solution for one problem to solve another. For example, in 1967, engineers
of prosthetics had difficulties with creating a hand with six ‘necessary’
independent functions. They found inspiration in airplane controls, as pilots
could ‘reach any given point, at any given altitude’, using only four
movements. Forty years later, a major concern was making the prosthetic durable
enough to handle the demands of everyday life without breaking. When looking at
materials for the I-limb, Gow considered Honeywells Spectra Fiber, a polyethylene
fiber that is 15 times stronger than steel. Spectra Fiber is used in many
different kinds of products—including the Spectra R motorcyle helmet shown below.
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| Example of Spectra Fiber, Acc10/001 |
When used in prosthetics, the fiber is woven into a fabric that is then
laminated with resin, and left to harden on a mould of the patient’s residual
limb.
In some ways, a letter from a puppet workshop is less of a
stretch to connect than motorcycle helmets and airplanes. The envelope shown
above is from Mark Hunter, a puppet maker with the Jim Henson workshop, which
most people will know for its pioneering animatronics in classics such as the
Dark Crystal and the Labyrinth in the 1980s.
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| Letter to David Gow in Henson studio envelope, Acc10/001 |
In 2001, Mark Hunter had a friend
in need of a prosthetic, and so decided to offer a helping hand (literally) to
Gow and the team at the Bioengineering Centre. While the hand made by Hunter
was never used, this letter was a wonderful surprise for me and it illustrates
just how seemingly unrelated fields can connect with one another.
The way things are related is important for me because I
want to create a resource that easily shows connections in order to find
relevant and related material. I need to know how and why records were created,
while still being aware of how people will use my catalogue entries to find
things in the future.
So far, this blog post has shown you the thought
processes behind creating prosthetics, and I am sure that this will be of
interest to researchers in the future. Then again, there might be better
resources for researchers to learn about the hydraulic and mechanical linkage
systems. A very common use of archives is as a way to support personal identity
and memory, and especially in establishing a family history and narrative. The
Bioengineering Centre didn’t just exist to make prosthetics. Those prosthetics
were meant for people, and the archive has records of the patients the Centre
supported. These records will in time be (and are already!) a valuable resource
for patients to reflect on their experiences, or for family historians wanting
to learn more about where they came from. The records also challenge some
existing ideas about disabilities, showing patients and their prosthetics at a
time when disability awareness was still in its early stages, and how
prosthetics were used to successfully navigate daily challenges.
The collection
contains many photo albums from Helen Scott, an occupational therapist at the
Centre, who worked with patients so that they could develop motor skills and
achieve independence in a myriad of forms, from dressing and feeding one’s self
to more elaborate tasks like writing, knitting and baking. The pictures in
these albums are wonderful not just for previous patients of the bioengineering
centre or family historians, but also for academics and activists looking for
resources to show life with disabilities from the 1960’s onwards:
Because of data legislation protecting patient information, we restrict access
as appropriate to safeguard individual privacy. For
that reason, parts of the collection won’t be publicly accessible unless you
have a legitimate reason to work with items, and have special permission from NHS Lothian, who own all our records. However, other collection items are less sensitive and there won’t
be any restrictions in place for access. That said, I can
scarcely wait for this collection to be fully catalogued so that users can get
their hands on these records!
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| Images above show occupational therapy activities with children at the Bio-engineering Centre at the Princess Margaret Rose Orthopaedic Hospital. Images have been edited to protect the identities of individuals pictures, Acc10/001 |
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