In this report, the Wi-Fi technology which is a wireless internet access point will be put under observation to understand its importance when applied to the construction industry. First of all a detailed review on how Wi-Fi came about will be looked into. Comparison will be made between Wi-Fi and Land Area Network (LAN) to see the advantages that Wi-Fi has over its wired network counterpart. Following this, a review of how information technology is currently aiding construction companies and then the communication technology in construction companies will be closely observed. Finally, the future application of the Wi-Fi sensors in the construction industry and its advantage in safety and productivity will be discussed.
12 July 1967, Florida newspaper the St Petersburg Times had an eye-catching front-page headline: “Dame Margot, Nureyev seized in hippie raid.” Police had busted a party in Haight-Ashbury, San Francisco, and unexpectedly ensnared two world-famous gatecrashers: Margot Fonteyn and Rudolf Nureyev, who had been in the city all of four hours. “Marijuana cigarettes were found at the scene,” noted the paper, although the two ballet dancers had to be released as there was no evidence that they had been smoking them. A high-spirited Nureyev had, however, performed a jeté into the back of a police van.
Fonteyn and Nureyev were two of an estimated 100,000 people who descended on San Francisco to locate the action during the drugged-up summer of love. It turned out that everything was happening. There were anti-Vietnam protests on the campus at Berkeley; Oakland’s African-American revolutionary movement, the Black Panthers, marched on the state capitol while openly armed; and bands such as the Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane and Big Brother and the Holding Company, fronted by Janis Joplin, performed on stage at venues such as the Avalon and the Fillmore, their acid-sodden psychedelia expressing the preoccupations of counterculture from surrealism to sex.
Add performance artists and community activists such as the Diggers – who, freaked out by the weekenders, announced the death of the hippie in October 1967 and staged a mock funeral – to the retina-searing, tripped-out aesthetics of the time on record sleeves, gig posters and in fashion, and you had an unprecedented mass experiment. The subject was the rejection of conventional society with its racism, warfare and repression; and the construction of alternative realities. All this was duly transmitted by an astounded mass media to living rooms around the world, while records such as the Beatles’ 1967 album Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band formed a clarion call for the counterculture on both sides of the Atlantic. Two weeks after its release on 1 June, it was played over the speakers at Monterey Pop, arguably the first music festival.
Then there were those hippies who were heading for the countryside to live communally with a copy of the Whole Earth Catalog, which contained a wealth of information from the best kerosene lamps to which book on goat husbandry to buy. Over at Stanford University, meanwhile, scientists were working on developments in personal computing that would lay the foundations for Silicon Valley and create the future – our present.
It’s a story on a kaleidoscopic scale, and this autumn the Victoria & Albert Museum in London will attempt to tell it through an exhibition. Entitled You Say You Want a Revolution? Records and Rebels 1966-1970, the show intends to delineate how the world transformed in those few seismic years, taking in swinging London, the student riots in Paris, and the moon landings – the latter of which were, says co-curator Geoffrey Marsh, “the boldest of human gestures”.
Marsh and fellow co-curator Victoria Broackes created the V&A’s blockbuster David Bowie exhibition in 2013. Like that show, this one promises to use music, objects and images not only to reanimate pop and social history but also to evoke something of the magic and mania of that tumultuous period. It’s also a salutary reminder of the peace, love and understanding that underpinned the hippie ideals – qualities that seem in short supply in 2016.
To create the exhibition, the V&A has gathered objects ranging from Airplane singer Grace Slick’s kaftan to the first computer mouse, and spoken to a host of surviving members of the counterculture.
Over the course of a few days in San Francisco, guided by Broackes, I also meet some of these paradigm-shifting former hippies, and visit the sites of the greatest upheaval.
We go to the steps of the University of California at Berkeley’s Sproul Hall, where Mario Savio, spokesman for the free speech movement, made his astoundingly passionate speech inspiring his fellow students to stage a sit-in and stop “the operation of the machine”. The free speech protests marked a direct link from the civil rights movement, in which Savio had participated, to the anti-war protests that would convulse Berkeley at the end of the 60s; just as the Beatniks of the previous decade, such as Allen Ginsberg and Neal Cassady, had profoundly influenced the hippies.
We meet Rick Moss, curator at the African American Museum in Oakland, who was 12 when the Black Panthers started galvanising his San Francisco community. “It was very empowering because at no point in your upbringing were you ever given examples of where black people were standing up for themselves,” he says. “So when you see guys swaggering to the state capitol and they’re having their weapons, it’s like The Lone Ranger. We were like: ‘This is great! This is what you do, you stand up to injustice.’”
Then there are the artists who defined the aesthetics of psychedelia. One, Joe McHugh, created a Jefferson Airplane-inspired poster called White Rabbit, which depicted a rabbit standing on a chessboard, the words “feed your head” dematerialising in the background. The other, Stanley Miller, known as Mouse, made the skull and roses artwork for the Grateful Dead, although he much preferred hanging out with Janis Joplin. “She was wild,” he remembers, with a glint in his eye. “The first time she came to my studio she chased me around – I was kind of scared of her.”
People drew pictures of the psych experience with lot of colours and mandalas, but to me, on acid everything got clear
Stanley 'Mouse' Miller
Music had drawn him from Detroit to California: “It was the Byrds and the Mama and the Papas – that ringing sound, like a siren calling me,” he says, still dreamy at the memory. Like most of the cultural productions of the time, his posters were drug-induced, but he never employed the bulbous lettering and eye-searing hues popular at the time. “A lot of people, how they drew pictures of the psych experience was a lot of colours and mandalas, but to me, [on acid] everything got super-clear.”
Miller later moved to London, where he spent a year working for Nova magazine and hanging out at the Beatles’ Apple headquarters on Savile Row (now a branch of Abercrombie and Fitch). He saw their final concert take place on the building’s roof, without realising that he was witnessing history. He also stopped taking acid that year. “It fell out of fashion. It was replaced in the 70s by a lot of cocaine and I didn’t want to do that.”
Information technology in Air Ambulance