(or 15,300 Seconds at Sotheby’s)

11:32:00 AM

The gentleman at the front desk seems like someone you need a cavalier rapport with before you can waltz in. I hesitate inside the revolving door long enough that I can’t fake familiarity. I try not to look like someone who spelled Sotheby’s with a “u” a week ago as I explain that I’m here for the Master Paintings and Sculpture Day Sale’s viewing. The gentleman recommends taking the elevator to the top and working my way down instead of feeding myself to the tower of escalators behind him.

11:32:45 AM

I take an elevator ride with two men whose suits look like they cost more than my tuition. I congratulate myself on thinking to wear real pants today instead of leggings, and fail to identify the men’s accents.

11:33:00 AM

Art has been spotted! When Scan the World suggested taking a trip to Sotheby’s New York I did some reconnaissance online to check out the lots, but it’s nice to confirm that there are indeed three-dimensional objects in the house (the auction did list paintings first, after all). Right away I can see that there are a few pieces arranged closely in cases, and I won’t be able to get scans of them. But I find a number of freestanding objects perfect for scanning as I survey the gallery’s layout to avoid missing any rooms later on.

11:45:00 AM

I circle back to the elevators and start scanning. The walls change from white to charcoal and the lighting from natural to dim as I move through the rooms, so I check the exposure on every set of pictures as I tap away on my iPhone. I’ve got earbuds in, a rhythm down, and a floor mostly to myself. New York is supposed to get a snowstorm this afternoon and it’s the middle of the day on a Wednesday, after all.

11:53:10 AM

The next statue crouches in a windowed nook. This poses multiple problems.

For one, the glare poking through the shades.

For two, the chance that I’ll knock the fire extinguisher off the wall while collecting three hundred and sixty degrees of photos.

For three, the possibility of dropping my phone into the ventilation system while trying to capture rear angles (my technology has a low fatality rate, but it only takes one).

And four: there’s a dark suit in the corner of my eye. Worse, someone wearing it.

As I lower my phone, I’m ready for the usual conversation starters:

“Are you taking a panorama?” (“No, just a bunch of steady photos.”)

“Miss, videos aren’t allowed.” (flips through camera roll to exonerate self)

“What are you doing, trying to take a selfie with the statue’s buttocks?” (That one hasn’t happened yet, but I’m ready.)

Instead, a security guard asks if I’d like to have the art handlers rotate the statue.

11:53:25 AM

“Yes?” It takes me several seconds to process. “That would be perfect,” I say, and settle back to watch the three person job (two aproned but gloveless touchers, one spotter).

I’m fascinated, anxious, and a little jealous. Like all well behaved art appreciators, I think of art like Bluetooth: a hands-free activity. I’m hyperaware of warning plaques, guard wires, and motion sensors. I have a special stink eye just for careless tourists whose backpacks get too close to swiping statues off their pedestals. The handlers are practicing sanctioned profanity, and I’m in awe.

I’m used to experiencing art in a museum, where it’s tangible but untouchable—not in an auction house, where art is a salable quantity. Maybe it’s a disservice to the artwork to ignore the financial factors that earn patronage, but monetary value isn’t something usually on my radar (this could be because I’m allergic to anything that smells like math). I’m more interested in how art feels (in a non-physical sense)—what it inspires. I believed for a long time that art can touch you, but that you should never touch the art. How else can we make sure it survives? Well, one way is through digital archives.

Making scans available online not only helps preserve art—it increases accessibility and intimacy with the pieces. An online archive quiets crowds until the only congestion you need to worry about is bandwidth. Guerrilla scanning subverts privatization and reduces financial barriers. Three-dimensional printing provides replicas that can be enjoyed anywhere and are perfectly touchable. And Scan the World’s platform combines collections on a massive scale. New objects are a click away in a global gallery, with more added every moment from individual scanners and from scanathon events. Place and time are no longer restrictions on discovery.

12:25:50 PM

I collect photos of a lush 19th century marble statue, Diana, whose flowing fabric seems like it can’t be stone. I try not to gasp when I see her starting bid. She’s to scale, but an elaborate base makes her taller than I am, and I crouch to get forty-five degree angles from below.

12:26:10 PM

I fall over—I’m okay. The very polite people purchasing paintings on the other side of the room pretend not to notice, and I stop blushing after about ten minutes. And three weeks later, Diana is online and viewable from any and all angles, including the one that toppled me. I get almost daily emails from MyMiniFactory as people in the community discover her online and fall in love.

12:38:00 PM

I become enamored a lot on this trip. Another statue with fantastic drapery becomes my phone’s home screen.

12:45:00 PM

I’m getting a little sentimental, so I take a very New York lunch break and get Cuban enchiladas around the block at Sophie’s. Nothing like green sauce to keep from getting too misty eyed (I take that back. My eyes water from the spicy sauce).

1:52:00 PM

I’m back, and tragically enchanted again. This time it’s a statue that humanizes (dryadizes?) rules of consent, Apollo and Daphne. The brass’s gloss is decidedly not so good for scanning. The spotlights are creating a glare on the statue, a photometric disappointment. I get a set of photos, just in case, and then take a few dozen more detail shots, just for me. I move on to a different floor, scan more sculptures, and then return to Apollo and Daphne. My lingering attracts one of the security guards again, and she offers up another accommodating handler. We marvel at the details—Daphne’s fingers as they branch into laurel leaves, Apollo’s toe-off. For a solid five minutes, we’re just three humans appreciating an amazing piece of art.

3:47:00 PM

After taking over three thousand photographs, I pack in for the day. As soon as I head down the tower of escalators to leave, the promised white-out snowstorm picks up.

I have to stop on the sidewalk outside Sotheby’s, squeezing my eyes shut against the snow’s sting. It’s a good rest for one sense, and a ridiculously freezing overload for another. I slip and skid my way to the bus stop, keeping in mind that if I faceplant I won’t be able to upload the photos. But I make it home. I send off the scans, give my eyes a good rest, and watch over the next few months as the statues populate Scan the World.

Jadyn N. Marshall