All at sea on the Cutty Sark
The ship as object. This is a subject which has come up repeatedly in the 'Things' seminars that I run in Cambridge. First, in a session on that topic, considering the materiality of the ship, and second in a session on 'Re-materialising', which considered how we reconstruct lost objects. Mary Brooks showed us, in that session, the film advert for the new Cutty Sark, in which the fully restored ship sails down Greenwich High Street.
No object, it could be argued, has been more effectively 're-materialised' than the Cutty Sark tea clipper, which has risen, phoenix-like, from years of water damage and a devastating fire, to occupy a prominent position in the rejuvenated Greenwich waterfront. Now placed permanently in dry dock, the ship is displayed above a sunken hall, with a glass roof. This nicely gives the sense of the ship floating on the waves, from outside, but allows appreciation of the Cutty Sark's gleaming hull from underneath. It is the ship as object, undeniably frozen both in time and space, but with a sense of past movement.
Inside, the Cutty Sark team have also tried to create a sense of past activity on the ship. The hold is dark and crowded, with floor and interpretation blocks made to resemble the tea chests which were the clipper's most famous load. This gives a very effective sense of space and atmosphere but makes the information, that is necessary to understand the relevance of this history, quite chaotic and hard to read. An equally whirlwind introductory film blocks the space and adds to the confusion. I felt other visitors were wondering somewhat aimlessly and overwhelmed, poking at the interactives. It does mean, however, that you get a real sense of space and awe when you climb up on deck, face the sun and the fresh air, and come to peer into the crews' quarters. These feel rather lifeless after the crowded hold, with the births kept quite plain. But you do get a feel for the contrasting spaces of the ship, and the tension between limitless air and crowded men. Descending, last, to the sunken hall you feel the size of the ship as a whole, set against the individual experience of its decks.
It stuck me that this would have made a clearer start to the tour, combining the sense of the whole ship with a fuller use of the, currently rather empty, sunken hall for introductory interpretation. Climbing up on deck, for the more expected experience of the vessel space, would then emphasise the dark, cramped hold as the real centre of this beautiful object, and it's chequered history. At the moment I feel the Cutty Sark is great on experience, but light on information, leaving the visitor somewhat at sea.