Oregon daily emerald., April 21, 1981, Image 1

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emerald
Vol. 82, No. 137
Eugene, Oregon 97403
Tuesday, April 21, 1981
By MIKE LEE
OfttM Emerald
Altered states of consciousness. Release of ten
sion. Salt in the ears.
Different people experience different sensations
after lying in a "sensory-deprivation tank." In the
movie "Altered States,” the hero turns into an ape
after spending a few hours in the tank. Local tank
owner Jon Carroll dismisses the movie as fantasy but
admits the mind does strange things.
“You drop into what states your discipline allows
you to," Carroll says. When he’s in the tank, "I happen
to be outside the bounds of physical laws — I call it
doing probes of other time.”
"Mystical people call them 'astral-body projec
tions,’ ” explains Amit Goswami, a University physics
professor who has studied the tank. “You get into a
state where everything seems as one — there is total
unity of the universe.”
Weird stuff for such an innocuous-looking box.
Carroll’s tank, with its hardwood finish, looks like a
sauna tipped over: it sits 8 feet long, 4 feet wide and 4
feet high. Inside, there’s a foot of water heated to 931/2
degrees — so the body can't feet the temperature —
and filled with 600 pounds of epsorrr salts that force
the body to float in the water.
There's also darkness. Lots of it.
“You don’t get any light, any sound, and gravity is
neutralized,” Carroll says. "You're basically left with
just your thoughts.”
Now that's scary.
“The basic fear is exploring your inner mind,"
Carroll admits. "Our culture does not emphasize
getting in touch with your own mind.”
After two hours of this, most people reportedly
hallucinate.
"If they can stick to it," Goswami adds, "they can
get into altered states of consciousness.”
The term was coined to include any state of
consciousness other than sleeping, dreaming and
waking, Goswami says.
Meditation aside, the tank also is physically
relaxing. All strain is taken from the body — sometimes
to the user’s surprise.
“They had no idea of the tension in their mus
cles,” Carroll says. “All of a sudden you can feel the
tension — and you can just let go of it.
"It’s exciting — people come over, and they can't wait
to see what’s going to happen."
Isolation tanks were developed in the 1950s for
just that reason, Carroll says. Government-funded
scientists wanted to see what the mind would do when
the body’s senses were dulled. To that end, the
original tanks completely submerged the user.
After funding stopped, some scientists kept
developing the tank privately. Carroll’s tank, which he
bought in Denver for $2,200 two years ago, was
designed by John Lilly, who also researches human
dolphin communication.
Carroll, who lives at 1925 Adams St., now rents his
tank to the public at five dollars a session, with no time
limit. His phone number is 683-3689.
Some people like to prep the mind beforehand,
taking drugs to "go for the most bizarre experience
possible," Carroll says. He doesn’t think that’s
necessary, however.
“I respect people that want to pop 10,000 cc of
something and go on in, but the tank’s powerful
enough for me.”
Holiday art museum closure angers visitors
Photo by Erich Boekelheide
Angry visitors stuffed more than 30 notes of protest in
the art museum’s iron doors last Sunday when they
found the building locked and the Ansel Adams pho
tography exhibit closed.
By GABRIEL BOEHMER
Of the Emerald
Vandalism visited the University art museum again
on Friday.
Although the damage didn’t cost the museum
anything for repairs, it may have cost some valuable
community support.
A notice that the museum would be closed on
Easter Sunday — the originally advertised last day of the
Ansel Adams photography exhibit — was posted Friday,
but it disappeared soon after, according to museum
designer and preparator Tommy Griffin.
Griffin characterized the disappearance of the sign
as typical and predictable
"Photographs of Ansel Adams” was originally
scheduled from March 22 through April 19, but because
the museum could not afford to hire a security guard on
the holiday, it opened the exhibit one day early on
Sunday, March 22.
The museum did not realize there would be a
holiday conflict with the Adam's exhibit, explains
museum director Richard Paulin.
Still many visitors — some from as far away as
Portland — came to view the Adams exhibit Sunday
only to find the museum’s iron doors closed
And more than 30 of the would-be viewers left notes
in the door’s iron work. Many of them were addressed to
Paulin.
The salutations ranged from "To whom it may
concern" to 'Dear Dick," but they all contained essen
tially the same message — disappointment.
The small avalanche of notes was scribbled on
everything from business cards and money-machine
receipts to library charge slips. They were stuffed in and
taped to the doors’ ironwork.
The notes apparently were started by a single
scribe’s suggestion — “Write and voice your protest!”
the note suggested.
Another visitor who lives in a University dormitory
wrote, “I have heard that the University needs all the
friends it can get. May I say that for an organization that
is up to its neck in debt and scandal, with this oversight,
you are down to your Nikes in non-renewable re
sources, friends."
Radio stations in the Eugene area aired commer
cials to correct the exhibition schedule, and all museum
publicity after the opening of the show carried the
correct information, Griffen says.
“In past years we’ve tried to keep the museum open
for family days," Griffen says.
But funding reductions have cut the number of
security guards the museum can employ from three to
one, he says.
In fact, every permanent member of the museum
staff now acts as a receptionist because the museum’s
six student-help positions were eliminated.
But this type of scheduling mistake shouldn’t
happen very often, Griffen says.
But the mistake may have damaged the museum
more than conventional vandalism.
"I’ll remember this the next time it is suggested that
I become a "Friend of the Museum," a visitor wrote.