Note the "smiley face" key Shaun Tan has digitally added to the far right end of the lower bank of the keyboard.
The Powerhouse Museum in Sydney has this Cheapside (Rimingtons, London) Blickensderfer Featherweight listed as a Blick 5, which of course it is not. Not quite as silly a mistake, however, as the nearby Mitchell Library exhibiting Patrick White's Optima portable typewriter as an Olivetti.
Two years ago the Powerhouse Museum in Sydney, hoping to regain touch with some of the younger generations, commissioned the brilliant Australian children's storyteller and illustrator Shaun Tan (below) to "have some fun" with a few of the museum's tens of thousands of donated items.
The result was The Oopsatoreum: Inventions of Henry A. Mintox, which followed a successful exhibition of curiosities called "The Odditoreum". Tan was approached "with a concept for another show
involving fictional histories of real (but often quite strange) objects from
their archives. While 'The Odditoreum' wandered randomly from medieval cannonballs
to generically engineered moths, [the] idea for 'The Oopsatoreum' involved more
of an overarching narrative, with some emphasis on mechanical objects and
accidents. I responded with the character of an imaginary inventor, Henry Archibald Mintox (1880-1967): spectacularly unsuccessful and therefore largely
unknown, at least until this museum 'retrospective'.
"Many of the actual objects,
from a hearing-aid to a mechanical dog, are recast as failed innovations. In
some cases being too far ahead of their time, such as an early attempt to
introduce mobile text-messaging using pre-electronic technology [the Laptop Messenger].
"Beneath the
silliness of the project there is actually an important observation: all
invention begins as a daring act of imagination, and begins with a play of
outlandish ideas. For every success that filters into daily use, there are
countless failures that are as important a testament to creative spirit."
Tan's fictional tale of the "strikingly original Mintox" creates an inventor who "longed for a mechanical
alternative to face-to-face conversations and dull cocktail parties"
Describing the background to the invention of the "Laptop Messenger" of 1920, Tan wrote:
Describing the background to the invention of the "Laptop Messenger" of 1920, Tan wrote:
"After one
particularly arduous wine and cheese social function (where too much of both was
consumed), he woke from a futuristic dream and immediately set about building
his ‘laptop messenger’. Mintox explained that the ‘user’ could send an instant
MSM (mechanically sent message) by ‘bleating’ into a magnetic cylinder through a
‘chatter account’. Longer messages could be sent by ‘m-mail’ through a vast
cable network, ‘the inter-web’, catalogued by huge ‘finding engines’ that let
you ‘oggle at’ stored ‘web-sights’.
"Friends and family feared for his sanity
during protracted lectures on the subject. There is no question that Mintox was,
on this very rare occasion, well ahead of his time. Ironically, his most
visionary invention was also the one in which he saw the least
potential.
"Evidently, his teenage daughter Sandra did not agree. Having been
given two prototypes for a test trial, she gave the other to her best friend.
The two girls clocked up an electricity bill so large that it could only be
repaid by mortgaging the family home. ‘How this was achieved in a single evening
is a mystery,’ Mintox lamented, ‘it only confirms that such a device has no
conceivable future’."
Shaun Tan was born in the port city of Fremantle, Western Australia, in 1974, seven years after Mintox's death - which happened to coincide with the donation of the Blick Featherweight to the Powerhouse Museum.
It was not long after I was given The Oopsatoreum book by my family, at Christmas 2012, that I chanced upon a short animated film on TV one afternoon. I was so deeply impressed by this film, The Lost Thing, that I took very careful note of the credits and spotted that the same Shaun Tan had written and illustrated the story.
I am in no way surprised to find today that this film won an Oscar in 2011 for best animated short. It's without doubt the best animated short I have ever seen. Tan wrote the book, from which the film is adapted, in 2000.
Tan moved to
Melbourne in 2007. In 2010 he was the Artist Guest of
Honour at the 68th World Science Fiction Convention in Melbourne. For his career contribution to "children's and young adult literature
in the broadest sense" Tan won the 2011 Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award from the
Swedish Arts Council.
Tan's work
has been described as an "Australian vernacular" that is "at once banal and
uncanny, familiar and strange, local and universal, reassuring and scary,
intimate and remote, guttersnipe and sprezzatura. No rhetoric, no straining for
effect. Never other than itself."
As a child Tan was inspired by Ray
Bradbury.
Tan's The Lost Thing reflects his interest in loss and alienation. He believes children in particular react well to issues of natural justice.
An excellent review of
The Oopsatoreum:
Inventions of Henry A. Mintox
By Frances Atkinson
in the Sydney Morning Herald, February 2, 2013.
THE act of invention has as much to do with timing as it does ingenuity. In
a shed in his backyard, fictitious inventor Henry A. Mintox tinkered
into ''reality'' a large number of wacky contraptions that, in a practical
sense, failed on every level. Sadly, he was a visionary with terrible timing,
but had his prescient Laptop Messenger (1920), a lumbering machine similar to a
typewriter (look for the smiley face on the bottom row of keys) that featured
mechanically sent messages (MSM) and ''chatter account'', arrived in the right
century, the name Mintox would be known the world over.
Selected from thousands
of obscure objects housed in Sydney's Powerhouse Museum, the inventions featured
in The Oopsatoreum really do exist (information about the real inventors can be
found at the back of the book), but Mintox and the whimsical stories and
drawings are all the work of author and artist Shaun Tan.
The collaboration with the museum
allowed Tan access to hundreds of objects, but only those that sparked his
imagination made it into the book.
There's a pair of Mouse Slippers (1938),
shoes designed specifically for the inventor's wife, Maude, who was terrified of
mice. Mintox believed that ''fear could be neutralised by a simple association
with an object of desire''. But not even Maude's love of shoes
could cure her loathing of rodents. The result was disastrous and Mrs Mintox had
to be rescued from a nearby lake: ''She had fallen into it after running two
miles from their home, backwards all the way, desperately trying to escape her
own feet.''
Another invention featured is the Handshake Gauge (1951), a device
that ''took the guesswork out of character judgment''. A prospective employee
would shake a rubber hand and a dial would indicate whether the person was
''trustworthy'', ''steadfast'' or a ''corporate psychopath''.
There is also the
All-Purpose Clippers (1933), based on the idea of combining different businesses
that ''economically share the same resources''. While the abattoir-restaurant
combo never took off, Mintox created a device that could cut hair and shear
sheep but, sadly, shears with an ''emphasis on speed, efficiency and preset
styling'' failed to attract punters after a customer was ''accidentally kicked
down a chute into a holding pen''.
The blend of fiction and reality suits Tan's
aesthetic; many of his books, especially his best-selling The Arrival, and his
Academy Award-winning short film, The Lost Thing, have roots in reality but
swarm with otherworldly creatures and contraptions that are both unfamiliar and
completely recognisable.
In The Oopsatoreum, Tan has written a convincing
fictional biography that is charming and refreshingly original. But it is also
pointed. ''What does it mean to be truly original?'' Tan asks. ''Should
creativity be measured only by success?'' By the end of the book, you can only
wish someone such as Mintox really had existed, although in a way the spirit of
Henry Archibald Mintox represents everyone with an audacious fancy who has spent
their lives attempting to manifest their dreams."
This looks very clever. It took me a minute to think about the apple next to the "laptop messenger"!
ReplyDeleteI am reminded of The Victorian Internet (I haven't read it yet, but Knotmagicknitter alerted me to it.