van Gogh: Arles and Amsterdam

For me, van Gogh is one of the artists whose work I first remember really liking (along with Monet and the guy who designed that Endless Summer movie poster that hung in my room so long ago). So a trip that combined, almost by happenstance, Arles and the van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam was really wonderful. The first van Gogh I remember seeing was Starry Night at the Museum of Modern Art in New York--I was in junior high, I think. I was so drawn in by the intensity of the painting that I remember reaching out and actually touching it. For me, one of those experiences that reinforces, in retrospect, the power of museums--nothing beats the real thing.

To be in Arles and Provence, in that landscape, was pretty amazing. Arles is a nice walking town and in several places we stumbled across "easels" outdoor signs that reproduce a van Gogh painting in front of the actual setting.



So the garden in the hospital where he stayed and his painting of the garden play back and forth in your imagination. However, not an original painting of his is in Arles--but a fascinating substitute is the Foundation van Gogh. It's a place that might have been incredibly hokey, but was lively and thought-provoking. Contemporary artists of all types were asked to create a work inspired by van Gogh. Some artists were inspired by his life; others by his work--his sense of color and line, his commitment to experimentation. So to see work by David Hockney, Christo, Jasper Johns and others--all in homage to VanGogh, was great.

Two days later the van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam filled in other parts of his life--with the largest collection of his work anywhere. It was really crowded--a reminder that one of the initial attractions of museum work was the chance to be with the stuff by yourself--not a chance here. To understand his life--the failed jobs and then this unwavering belief that he had something to say as an artist--as you see the growing power of his work--all that was evident even as you shuffled, shoulder to shoulder, through the museum. My mental images of Provence--olive groves, street scenes in Arles--combined with his work and it'll be impossible to think of Provence without thinking of his work.

And an exhibit design note--both here and in the Phillips wing at the Rijksmuseum, main exhibit labels were installed very high up and very large. It meant that everyone in the room could read that and then explore--a great technique for crowded museums.

Museums: Amsterdam and Provence

The next few entries, I hope, will be a chance for me to reflect on museums I saw while in Provence and the Netherlands for ten days. From the Rijksmuseum to a tiny little local history museum in a tiny village in Provence, lots to think about. Perhaps most interesting were the many ways in which the past and present connected so directly. One small example--we were in Arles on May 1, which was the 495th celebration of the Fete des Gardians--Gardians are the sort of cowboys of the nearby Camarague. The day starts with a parade of local residents in traditional clothing--men, women, young, old--but I noticed lots of people had a really distinctive nose....and when, a couple days later, I visited the Museum Arlatan, many of the 18th and 19th century portraits of Arlesiennes had the same look--and then even found a Van Gogh painting (now at the Met in New York) with the same outfit and face. Even though we, and lots of other tourists were observing this event, in some ways it felt very community focused--a chance for local residents to see neighbors and celebrate a shared heritage. And, in the way that past meets present, as this group left the square, the Socialists and Communists assembled for their May Day parade.

Peep Show

A somewhat belated post about a Hartwick College tradition...the Peep Show. Every spring, the college holds an open show of art created from peeps--yes, those sugary chicks that appear on grocery store shelves every spring. Students, faculty and staff participate in the event and I see that a number of the entries were museum related. They included peep shards, an archaelogical entry; and several dioramas including Peep Evolution by Assistant Professor Lisle Dalton and Saturday Peep Fever, by Kevin Gray '01 and Sarah Loveland (both at left).

What's the connection to museums? Well, creativity and a sense of humor are a wonderful thing. This week, Leslie Bedford of the Bank Street Museum Studies Program spoke at the Upstate History Alliance/Museum Association of New York Annual Conference. I was unable to attend her presentation, but a colleague emailed me about her talk--and shared this quote from Leslie, " How can we expect visitors to use their imagination if we don't use ours?" On that note, enjoy more imaginative peeps at Hartwick!

Museums and Beer School

I spent some time talking today with a friend and colleague, Joann Lindstrom, currently in graduate school for public administration, about start-ups. She's been reading a book called Beer School, about the founding of the Brooklyn Brewery. She was impressed by the founders dedication and willingness to stick through some tough times and obstacles along the way. She raised the connection of how and why a for-profit look at start-ups is relevant to non-profits. We're always talking about the big idea, and mission, and vision--but sometimes organizations also need a dose of reality. If you're starting a history organization in a community of 1200 people--maybe you're not going to be able to raise a million dollars. At the same time, we both have seen organizations where passion really makes a difference. If you're the whiny type, it's guaranteed you'll never raise a million dollars. So our recommendation from our diner lunch--without the passion and vision, there's not a chance of succeeding--but those dreams should be tempered with the reality, perhaps.

Big Idea, Election Style

I've been in lots of meetings lately where we talk about the Big Idea in exhibits--what's the big idea about innovation, about a particular community's history, about the story of vacations. It's the way in which all of us try to make sense of telling any complicated history in an exhibit format. So I was interested, last week, to hear a piece on NPR's All Things Considered on the big idea in this year's presidential campaign. As Robert Siegel said, sometimes candidates say only that "I'm better, stronger, older, younger or something...." than the other candidate. But sometimes candidates are about bigger ideas and political contributors EJ Dionne and David Brooks, using candidates own speeches, talked about who's got a big idea and who doesn't. John McCain was, they thought, a big idea guy stuck with a big idea called Iraq; Barack Obama's: building a better America; Hilary Clinton: sort of a version of it takes a village and John Edwards, a "factory floor populism."

What does that mean for exhibit goers and makers? Perhaps we too often fall prey to the same, "I'm better, stronger," syndrome in which we expect visitors, because we're the only museum in town, or because we're a famous big name museum--that the experience should be enough. Time will tell in electoral politics whether a big idea wins, but every day, our communities vote with their feet--and their contributions--about our big ideas.

No Looking, No Learning

No looking, no learning….

Hard as that is to believe, that’s what one of my students heard a harried mom say as she marched her son towards the exit at the American Museum of Natural History in New York. The comment provided the funny end to a long day of museum looking, accompanied by students from my museum exhibitions class. We saw one surprisingly good exhibit we didn’t have on our schedule, one old favorite for unknown reasons, one not worth the hype, one worth the effort, and one that raises questions about what museums are.

At the American Museum of Natural History:
Surprisingly good—the new Spitzer Hall of Human Origins at the American Museum of Natural History. Beautifully designed and installed, this exhibit explores evolution—and our future. We saw it at the end of the day, but it still was, for all of us, the memorable one. Media installations—but not too many, and easy to watch; clever exhibit design that, as one of my students said, “allowed you to get it without reading” but plenty of deeper text for those who were interested; and perhaps most importantly, evidence of a passionate commitment to knowledge and understanding. That last characteristic importantly connects it with last year’s Darwin exhibit at AMNH. (My apologies--my photos didn't convey the exhibit well, but loved this one of visitors looking at models of their ancestors).

An old favorite—hard to say why, but there’s something about the Hall of Northwest Coast Indians that draws me there every time I visit AMNH. The objects are incredibly beautiful and meaningful far beyond the simple labels, but the installation, no surprise for something based on research by Franz Boas, is old-fashioned. It’s a reverent sort of feeling place though, and I’d hate to see them change it.

Not worth the hype: Gold. The exhibit raised lots of questions for us. We’ve been talking about the big idea in class. What’s the big idea here? Gold is cool? One student interested in geology was very interested in that section, and another liked seeing the Oscar statue at the end. The exhibit was crowded—and why, when you put objects in freestanding cased with waist-level labels, couldn’t you put those labels on all four sides so more people could see it? I didn’t watch the video, but my students who did thought that was the best part. Very ho-hum, despite some beautiful objects.

And, at the New-York Historical Society:

Sojourner Truth, Library of Congress

Worth the effort, but not perfect: New York Divided: Slavery and the Civil War. The second of the historical society’s exhibits on slavery and New York had some of the same strengths and weaknesses as the first. Strength—a very clever opening video that makes the point of the exhibition very clear. Commerce or conscience—which would govern New York’s approach to slavery? The introductory label—written as an invitation from its president, Louise Mirrer, exemplifies the historical society’s commitment to the project. Loads and loads of text—not made easier by the fact that many of the objects themselves are books, pamphlets, or other textual materials. When asked, just after finishing the exhibit, about memorable objects—students named a small drawing, or a coin, or the orphan asylum book—small objects that spoke volumes.

This exhibit though, suffered from the same overuse of media as the first one. So much so, that the sound bleed from place to place made it difficult to concentrate. One large video about a dance hall seemed a waste, while a second about minstrel shows really drew me in to watch. An exhibit worth doing—and worth seeing. If you’re there, also don’t miss the exhibit A New Light on Tiffany: Clara Driscoll and the Tiffany Girls. It’s beautiful, and an amazing look at Driscoll and the women she worked with.

And I wonder….

We also visited the Children's Museum of Manhattan. Admittedly, none of us were children, nor did we have children with us. The place was packed, and families seemed to be having a great time. But if we think museums are about objects, those objects—of any sort—were in short supply here. I particularly loved though, the places where I saw parents and children working together. In a downstairs room, small groups of families worked enthusiastically on building block projects (at left) ; upstairs, a mother and son drove the fire engine.

I didn't see many people reading them, but I really liked the labels that helped parents think about how to play with their kids in ways that enhance learning.

But is it a museum?

What Stories Should We Tell?

I’m involved in two projects right now that focus, in part, on difficult stories in small communities. In one community, a history of labor strikes resonates down the years—so much so that the companies themselves are gone from the community. The bitter memories remain though, so much so that a 95 year old woman almost spit out the names of those who were scabs in the 1940s. On another project, a historic house, owned by slaveholders, is beginning the process of thinking about how to interpret that difficult history—another history that resonates down to the present day for both European Americans and African Americans. There is some sense—among several groups of people-- that the history might be too painful still to address.

Over lunch with a colleague (guess these kinds of lunches serve as non-virtual blogs) we talked about how much we, as historians and as museum people, want to understand these issues and how much we believe that museums and historical societies can be places to do it. We talked about not-very-serious titles for an exhibit on difficult issues—It’s About Time, or Let’s Talk About It. Larger museums—particularly those museums involved in the International Coalition of Historic Sites of Conscience have done it but it seems a much more difficult thing for small museums to do.

Maybe it’s because we're reluctant to discuss those issues with our neighbors we see everyday. But maybe that’s exactly the place that we should discuss them—and understand that change can happen right in our own backyard. Community museums could, with a good deal of listening and good will, create exhibits and interpretive plans that bring diverse elements of our community together. As Margaret Mead famously said, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has."