RADAR 11 - H ²0
Publication Date: June, 2004
Water and Artifice

It is strange that the second largest waterfall in Maryland will be manmade, cascading over painted concrete rock to a faux river, entombed as a tourist attraction in the middle of the Inner Harbor. It is not a real waterfall; it is the interpretation of a waterfall, a shadow, set behind a specially treated glass wall that will allow it to be seen blocks away in rain, sunshine, or darkness of night. And yet, given the locale, the Aquarium's new façade is a perfect fit.

It is no surprise that the Aquarium's success would outgrow its original (1981) building and even its dolphin building (1990). Entering the aquarium, a visitor sees divers feeding rays, catches glimpses of sharks. Moving up through level after level, one move through displays of glass cases themed with titles like "The Many Shapes of Water" and "Adaptations." The exhibits have a natural separation between human and fish: air-world vs. water-world. What's striking is how the fish seem to thrive in their artificial environments--fake rock, decorative plants, and dramatic lighting makes the experience more than a banal walkthrough (though one wonders what the fish really make of it).

The tour leads to the ultimate Aquarium experience: the immersive Tropical Rainforest, where visitors meander through a warm, wet environment and spot monkeys, parakeets, a sloth. Here, visitors are inside the exhibit, a dichotomy of being real and not-real at the same time--a strange state named just over two decades ago in Umberto Eco's essay, "Travels in Hyperreality," as the harbinger of a future state of being.

Leaving the Aquarium for Harborplace itself, visitors find themselves in an environment that will be rendered yet more "hyperreal" by the Aquarium's new front: commercial habitat. Historic buildings like the Power Plant are now giant billboards that advertise chain restaurants and bookstores. Families push strollers, hold hands, give piggy back rides; joggers and bikers rush by, and these "fish," being fed, feed Baltimore. Harborplace, according to the Baltimore Area Convention and Visitors Association, attracts an estimated 14.82 million visitors, who spend about $3.058 billion annually.

Yes, it is a tourist trap. It looks more like a theme park every year; a bit more Vegas-like, except that the stakes aren't as high (at least not till the slots come in). And big new showplaces like the Visitor's Center and the Science Center addition will eventually supplant eyesores like the Light Street and Pratt Street pavilions, which is a blessing.

Every faction has its conceit, and every group its target audience; business is in business to make money, and there is an art to all of this. Largely, the way of the Inner Harbor has become the way of the American, and Eco's notion of hyperreality is now exactly the same vintage as the 21-year-old visitors who have grown up entirely under its spell.

Waterfront development has its economic arms around this city; the new reality will not go away. Rather than snubbing each other, corporate Harborplace and the art communities might instead embrace this new reality, comment on it, work with it--perhaps the better to question it. It is a brilliant place to study representations (what we aim for in our artwork), human behavior, politics, and the new rules of the game.

David Morley