Laws of media 375 Jr. has detailed this retrieval and its development as an updating of medieval and scholastic sensibility in his The Renaissance Rediscovery of Linear Perspective. Retrieval is not simply a matter of hauling the old thing back onto stage, holus-bolus. Some translation or metamorphosis is necessary to place it into relation to the new ground—as anyone can testify who has experienced “revivals” in our culture, whether in fashion or music or any other form. The old thing is brought up to date, as it were. For archaic or tribal man, in acoustic space, there is no past, no history— always present. Today we experience a return to that outlook when technological breakthroughs have become so massive as to bring one environment into collision with another, from telephone to radio to TV to satellite to computer. Interface, of the resonant interval as “where the action is” in all structures, whether chemical, psychic, or social, involves touch. Touch, as the resonant interval or frontier of change and process, is indispensable to the study of structures. It involves also the idea of “play,” as in the action of the interval between wheel and axle, as the basis of human communication. Since electronic man lives in a world of simultaneous information, he finds himself increasingly excluded from his traditional (visual) world, in which space and reason seem to be uniform, connected and stable. Instead, Western (visual and left-hemisphere) man now finds himself habitually relating to information structures that are simultaneous, discontinuous, and dynamic. Hearing, as such, is from all directions at once, a 360-degree sphere. Electrically, knowing is now from all directions at once in a 360-degree sphere, so that knowing itself has been recast or retrieved in acoustic form, as it were. In 1917, T.S.Eliot in his “Tradition and the Individual Talent” stressed the view that all art from Homer to the present formed a simultaneous order and that this order was perpetually motivated, renewed, and retrieved by new experience. His symbolist approach to language and art and communication is well indicated in his celebrated definition of the auditory imagination. What I call the “auditory imagination” is the feeling for syllable and rhythm, penetrating far below the conscious levels of thought and feeling, invigorating every word: sinking the most primitive and forgotten, returning to the origin, and bringing something back, seeking the beginning and the end. It works through meanings, certainly, or not without meanings in the ordinary sense, and fuses the old and obliterated, and the trite, the current, and the new and the surprising, the most ancient and the most civilized mentality.