“Who says it had to be this way?”

Yielding to the world, for good reason, is much easier than standing against it. Narratives (which are often true) tell us about the harsh realities of our world: that perhaps hopes are impossible to fulfill; that perhaps your dream career just can’t sustain your life; that injustice is inherent to our human existence. This doesn’t mean one’s existence has to be miserable. Reconciliation is a recurring theme across our essays for good reason: many people are able to come to terms with their situation and happily move on, finding alternative methods to living out a fulfilling life.

But not all choose to follow this path.

“I know you want me to talk about how hard ‘life as a humanities person’ is,” Dr. Wu replied, after I asked him (perhaps too many times) the challenges he faced as an archivist. “But who says it had to be this way?”

***

I first met Dr. Wu through volunteering as a TA at a summer camp where he was teaching. Flying all the way from Taiwan, he came to teach local students about different historical art methods he’s encountered through his career as an archivist. For two separate sessions over two weeks, some other students and I worked with Dr. Wu to translate his slides on ancient stone-rubbing traditions, Yokohama photographs, early western blueprinting technology, and more for the students.

It was through the anecdotes he shared with us TAs during break sessions that I grew interested in his work. Stories of how he travelled across China to personally study from one of the last living practitioners of Yokohama (hand-painted) photography. How he led his students on government-sponsored projects preserving Taiwanese temples through the stone-rubbing he was teaching us. Even private stenciling work he was contracted to do for a museum exhibit on manhole covers. These were only the tip of the iceberg of everything we learned about him. You and I probably have the same thought right now. What business did a professor of archiving have with obscure art techniques even art historians may not know about? 

***

Dr. Wu grew up in Taiwan and, like many others we’ve come to interview, entered college without much knowledge of the direction he wished to pursue. “I was the kind of person who was interested in everything,” he said. “I played handball, I knew music–I knew how to play the guitar and ukulele–I knew computer science. You could talk to me about anything, and I’d know enough to hold a conversation.” But this general curiosity Dr. Wu held for the world around him served as a curse: he found it difficult to focus on just one degree. “At first, I studied library sciences, but I didn’t like it,” Dr. Wu admitted. “I didn’t see what it could do for my future.”

But rather than giving up and accepting the fact that library science–or any other degree, for that matter–wouldn’t be broad enough to cover all his interests, Dr. Wu searched for a method to approach library science in a way that could encompass the interests he’s held since childhood. The solution emerged through a subdiscipline of library science: archiving. 

The job of an archivist is to analyze different objects of interest and learn everything about them, in order to make informed decisions about their preservation and have an understanding of their history. For the preservation side, details regarding the object such as the conditions it should be held at and the archive that would best suit it. For the historical side, information including the history behind the object, the significance of its existence, and how it fits within the broader narrative of the world. 

As one can imagine, the requirement for an archivist to be knowledgeable about objects across many disciplines suited Dr. Wu perfectly. “As I entered my master’s and PhD, I began to focus specifically on archiving. I discovered [during my studies] that I was able to connect all my various past interests to the archiving of different objects,” he says. To the outsider, they may be random, but to Dr. Wu, it was his dream. In particular, much of his work was centered around Asia. Lighthouses around Taiwan. Mythology and religious figures across East Asia. The Dayuan Aviation City/district in Taipei. The life of Sun Yat-sen.

***

The first technique Dr. Wu taught in his five-day curriculum was stone-rubbing. Through pressing a piece of paper to an object, applying a glue concoction to hold the paper and the object together, lightly tapping the paper with a brush so the paper can fall into the nooks and crannies of the object, and dabbing the remaining paper with ink, an image of the non-indented parts of the object can be stored.

Although stone-rubbing existed for much of Chinese history, it exploded in popularity during the Tang and the Song Dynasties, as Buddhist teachings flowed into China and scholars sought ways to reproduce its texts. Even as block printing, the predecessor to the Gutenberg Press, rose in popularity during the Tang, stone-rubbing remained in use for archiving purposes by ancient Chinese scholars, as it was the only way to record steles, decorative patterns, and essentially any work that wasn’t on paper. 

While this craft may seem simple and primitive for the 21st century–even childish, to a degree–many parts of its process are on its last heels and close to being forgotten. The paper required for this process (Xuan zhi) due to its stretchy fibers is now much rarer in East Asia. The recipe for the authentic starch glue can’t even be found online: Dr. Wu had to learn it by hand from the few practitioners of stone-rubbing that exist today.

***

However, despite his deep expertise, Dr. Wu soon discovered that his personal passion for archiving didn’t automatically translate to the classroom. After finishing his doctoral studies, Wu became an assistant professor at Tamkang University. One challenge Dr. Wu faced as a professor was that his students didn’t harbor the same enthusiasm towards archiving as he did. Many were “using their cellphones” during class, tuned out of his lectures. This disconnect forced him to ask, “What can I change about my lessons so it can appeal to students?” His solution was to introduce archiving the way he had experienced it: not as a standalone subject, but as the culmination in understanding of historical artifacts, contexts, and processes.

One anecdote Dr. Wu gave related to books. “Books are an important part of archiving. They’re a commonly encountered resource. So I thought, what if I taught my students about the differences between different methods of binding books? How Japanese book binding differed from Chinese book binding, and how Eastern book binding differed from Western book binding?” Dr. Wu would then give his students hands-on experience by showing them the ancient, authentic process of book binding he learned from artisans who still practice this technique today.

“Immediately, classroom engagement shot up,” he said. “Students were focused. They were excited to learn. Some of them even asked me what we would be doing in the future, because they wanted to try these new things.”

***

Another technique we learned over the week was called stencil printing. Actually invented by Thomas Edison through the electric pen, stenciling originated in the United States. While it never caught on in the west due to other methods of printing emerging, it was introduced to a Japanese ambassador at a fair in Chicago, and later became widespread in Japan for its ease-of-use, alongside working better with local Japanese materials.

Through etching designs on thin sheets of plastic with knives, and going over them with paint-rollers, stenciling served as a cheap, makeshift printer. Many schools across Japan adopted this technique, and used it for printing posters or school newsletters. Even a scene in a popular 2011 Ghibli movie, From Up on Poppy Hill, features stenciling.

***

Another group of artifacts commonly seen in the field of archiving are art pieces. And, like what he had done with book binding, Dr. Wu sought to give his students a hands-on approach to art techniques for them to be fully immersed in its study. Except, many of the techniques Dr. Wu wished to learn about were rarely practiced anymore. However, Dr. Wu also didn’t have hands-on experience with many art techniques he wanted to teach as well. As such, whenever he had the opportunity to (over breaks, and through requesting official leaves from his teaching position), he sought out the still-living practitioners behind these art forms. This unit for his college students served as the basis for the summer camp I assisted at.

When asked why he bothered to go through all this effort for something that wasn’t fully necessary to his job, Dr. Wu replied, “Why shouldn’t I, if it means I’m able to help my students while satisfying my own curiosities in the meantime?”

For Dr. Wu, there were many points in his life he could’ve chosen to be pessimistic and accepted the situation for what it was. Dr. Wu could’ve remained resigned to just studying library science, and never being able to connect his career with all the passions he’s held. He could’ve chosen not to fulfill his job as a professor, and just earn a paycheck by delivering the bare minimum to his students. He could’ve never explored as much of the world as he had done, instead just focusing on the theory behind archiving rather than stepping out of his way to learn the history behind the objects he was studying.

But in his words, “why should it have to be this way?”