Wednesday, October 10, 2018 // The Statement
4B
Wednesday, October 10, 2018 // The Statement 
 
5B

T

he recording starts with Bach’s 
“Toccata and Fugue in D Minor” 
on the organ — you’d know it if 

you heard it — with a minor modulation 
of pitch, a quiver. Then a voice rings out 

above the organ’s echo.

“Good evening.”

*organ intro repeats*
“This is Dan Burke of Can-

terbury House”

*organ once again*
“… bringing you some of the 

sounds of the good news.”

*large applause*
Some of them are weird 

sounds, some of them are 
sweet sounds and some of 
them are perplexing sounds.

Burke’s deep, rich voice is 

immediately cut off by the 
first verse of Carl Ander-
son’s “Superstar” from the 
“Jesus Christ Superstar” 

soundtrack. If this record-
ing of Reverend Burke’s radio 

show from 1971 doesn’t convey 
Canterbury House’s blend of 
musical innovation and spiri-

tuality, I don’t really know 

what could.

Burke’s radio show, 

along with a litany of 
purely magical musical 
performances recorded 
right 
at 
Canterbury 

House’s late 1960s cof-
fee shop location at 
330 Maynard in Ann 
Arbor, were recent-
ly unearthed by the 

Michigan History Project. 
The seven-inch reel-to-reel 
tapes were previously owned 
by an independent collector, 

then they were lost for a few years, until 
MHP found them in the hands of a musi-
cian and immediately got to work con-
verting them to a digital format and then 
preserving the original tapes.

MHP is constantly on the lookout for 

more tapes in a quest to preserve the 
cultural memory of Canterbury House 
before all the original recordings from 
the era are lost, according to the presi-
dent Alan Glenn. MHP is currently in 
talks with a record company and is hop-
ing to issue the tapes as part of a deluxe 
vinyl release series. Sadly, some of these 
new recordings might not see the light of 
day due to copyright restraints. 

“We’re (trying to release the material) 

mainly to further our mission of preserv-
ing and publishing the history of Michi-
gan — and also because it’s so incredibly 
cool!,” Glenn wrote in an email inter-
view. “Seriously though, people’s mis-
taken expectations that their old tapes, 
films, photos and the like are worth a lot 
of money is a big problem for historical 
preservation … This stuff rots away in a 
musty attic or basement until it turns to 
crumbling, moldy dust. That’s a tragedy, 
because when history is lost, it’s gone for-
ever.”

These tapes are an archivist’s heaven 

— they aren’t cheap bootleg recordings 
made by an audience member, but rather 
professional tapes run directly from the 
venue’s soundboard made with permis-
sion from the artists. More importantly, 
they represent the panoply of music dur-
ing a time of political turmoil, with the 
Vietnam War in full swing. On these 
tapes, artists such as Joni Mitchell, Neil 
Young, Dave Van Ronk, Odetta, Doc Wat-
son, Len Chandler, the Jim Kweskin Jug 
Band, the New Lost City Ramblers, David 
Ackles and Steve Noonan bare their souls 

to crowds of fewer than 200 University of 
Michigan students and Ann Arbor resi-
dents, some just before the world would 
know their names and musical creations.

During my “listen to my Discman on 

the bus” phase in sixth grade (everyone 
had those, right?), I got a Best Buy gift 
card for Christmas. My dad took me and 
convinced me to buy Neil Young’s Great-
est Hits. There it stayed in my yellow Dis-
cman Sport for months on end.

When the Coen Brothers’ film “Inside 

Llewyn Davis” came out, I couldn’t get 
the soundtrack out of my head. That’s 
where I learned about Dave Van Ronk, 
and his songs have stayed in my cover 
repertoire ever since. Once a guy at an 
open mic brought me three Van Ronk LPs 
cause he knew how much I idolized the 
folk singer.

This past summer, Joni Mitchell’s Blue 

got me through some incredibly rough 
times. I’d be lying if I said she doesn’t 
creep into my weekly listening habits this 
semester too.

I’m telling you this because the music 

that came out of these found recordings 
has been with me for years. When I told 
people I was working on this piece, the 
response was eerily similar among almost 
everyone I talked to.

“What’s Canterbury House?” 
The music Canterbury House has pro-

vided a platform, for from the ’60s, to 
today has influenced me as a writer and 
as a person. Canterbury’s story inspires 
me to both respect the art of the past and 
continuously look to the future to consid-
er what space my own art can occupy. I 
hope it does the same for you.
B

ishop Samuel Harris saw the 
need for an Episcopal student 
ministry on the University cam-

pus in 1885. According to documents pro-

It’s a question I’m asked more often 

than I’d like. Yet every time I’m faced 
with it, I draw a blank, regurgitating a 
superficial answer that I’ve perfected 
over time. To this day, I’m still unsure 
of what constitutes a designer, or if 
there is a single label that I can use to 
answer this question more concisely.

Design is an incredibly broad field. 

Wikipedia defines it as “(the) creation 
of a plan or convention for the 
construction of an object, system or 
measurable human interaction.” By 
that definition, everyone who makes 
a contribution to a product is a 
designer. Everything that we interact 
with on a day-to-day basis has been 
designed to some extent. Design is 
typically broken down into different 
disciplines, all of which share the 
common feature of creation for users 
and their environment. Personally, 
the ambiguous yet multidisciplinary 
nature of design work is what I love 
most about being a designer.

I don’t fit into a single mode of 

designer; rather, I wear different 
hats depending on the stakeholders 
involved. Oftentimes, I’m a graphic 
designer, who is tasked with using 
visual elements to communicate 
information 
and 
ideas. 
This 

can significantly affect a user’s 
impression of a product. Colors, fonts 
and iconography come to life and are 
tied into a visual identity. The initial 
pen-and-paper designs transform in 
the digital world of Adobe Creative 
Cloud and materialize through print, 
where the impact of my creations 
becomes quantifiable. Every page of 
The Michigan Daily that I create is an 
empowering reminder of the status 
I hold as a graphic designer, where 
even the slightest design decisions 
can 
shape 
readers’ 
reactions 

entirely.

On other occasions, I’m a user 

experience designer where my job 
is to be attentive to the behavioral 
consequences of a user’s interaction 
with a product. Ultimately, my goal 
is to maximize the satisfaction 

of the user. This is often done 
through 
research 
on 
targeted 

users, identifying main points in a 
product, exercising convergent and 
divergent thinking to find solutions 
and iterating upon prototypes to 
visualize different potential user 
pathways. These solutions should 
be robust and thoroughly tested 
by actual users. Across the entire 
process, visual appeal, cognitive 
implications and emotions of the 
user are essential to keep in mind. 
The design-thinking behind user 
experience is something I try to 
exercise as often as I can in my 
everyday life. In more general terms, 
I am cognizant of how my actions are 
affecting my interactions with others 
and how I can adapt my behavior 
accordingly.

Requirements and roles often 

change when I am working on a 
project. In these scenarios, I’m a 
product designer who oversees all 
aspects of a product from start-to-
finish. This entails working with the 
intermediate aspects of a product 
such as psychological and social 
impacts, 
technical 
limitations 
in 

product functionality, and more. The 
baseline goal of a product designer 
is to create products that cater to 
a user’s needs by solving existing 
problems. Product designers have 
knowledge across disciplines; they’re 
capable of conducting research on 
user data, creating wireframes and 
prototypes for potential solutions, 
and devising strategies on how the 
product will solve a problem -- all of 
which I’ve had the opportunity to do.

With this, I still struggle with 

finding a term that encompasses 
my 
collective 
design 
identities. 

“Designer” is far too open-ended, 
whereas “graphic designer” has 
specific expectations that constrain 
my creativity. However, finding a 
suitable label comes second to 
seeing my impact on the world. 
Design has the ability to shape a 
person’s emotions and experiences 

when 

interacting 
with 
something, 
and 
using 

that 
ability 

in a positive 
light gives me 
an unparalleled 
feeling of joy.

As a mostly self-

taught 
designer, 

a bulk of my design 
expertise 
comes 
from 

absorbing other designers’ ideas 
and concepts into my own, and 
iterating off of those to discover my 
unique design style. Over the years, 
I’ve collected a variety of different 
tips and techniques that have helped 
me explore my design identity, some 
of which are below:

• 
Being vulnerable. Vulnerability 
is closely tied with discomfort, 
which is an agent of change. 
This 
change 
can 
positive 

or 
negative; 
with 
proper 

guidance, 
positive 
change 

can lead to growth. Being in a 
vulnerable situation allows for 
the development of new ideas 
and perspectives.

• 
Making mistakes. And not 
being afraid to make mistakes. 
Every designer starts from the 
bottom, and through mistakes, 
can learn to improve. Missing 
the mark has significantly 
more personal impact than 
perfectly handling a task. 
Lots of discoveries arise from 
experiencing failure.

• 
Not letting fear hold you back. 
If you want to experiment with 

different 
creative 

approaches, go for it! The 
worst thing that could happen 
is failing the task, which is 
a small obstacle in the long 
run of things. Get creative by 
breaking the boundaries of 
design

• 
Be a good listener. Not just 
hearing feedback, but really 
listening 
and 
digesting 

someone’s opinion of your 
work. 
Feedback 
is 
super 

valuable and is essential in 
growth as a designer, so use 
it to your advantage in your 
iterations.

I’ve learned to be content with 

not having a solidified identity as 
a designer. If anything, it provides 
more opportunities for me to grow 
my design skills by applying them 
to different disciplines. The thought 
process that comes with being a 
designer has come in handy in all 
aspects of my life, and I wouldn’t 
have it any other way; I hope to 
continue shaping my future and 
others’ through design.

ILLUSTRATION BY EMILY KOFFSKY

You Can’t Bury Canterbury

BY MATT HARMON, DAILY NEWS EDITOR

WHAT KIND OF 
DESIGNER ARE YOU?

BY CASEY TIN, MANAGING DESIGN EDITOR

Ann Arbor’s hidden musical gem (Part 1)

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