What Makes Historic House Tours So Boring: Upstate Thoughts

In preparation for an AAM discussion of the same name, I queried the Upstate History Alliance list-serv for their opinions on why historic house tours are boring.

Several list members shared their own personal experiences:

"When my oldest was 15 months old, we toured Monticello. Should be fun, right? They've got the money to do things right...to be engaging...to meet our needs? So I'm holding my precious cargo and we enter the library. He says (says, not yells) in his baby way, "book, book, book" - and points (a full two yards away from any real object) and he is IN MY ARMS. The docent suggested I might prefer to wait on the porch while my husband finished the tour. It still makes me mad!"

Lauren Cohen

"I recently visited several historic house museums in the Hartford, CT area. A couple of times, I was the only person there, so was one-on-one with interpretors. They were all 'stuck' in their format; I introduced myself (if I was the only one there) and expressed what I was especially interested in, but they still gave me their rote tour. I sometimes stalled them by asking (the wrong) questions, or by not having the right reaction to what they were telling me - meaning, they had given the same speech so many times that they had an expectation of how their visitors would and should react. Sometimes they would act disappointed when I didn't respond correctly, or like I was wasting their time by asking unimportant, obscure questions.

Tours are boring when one has to stand through a routine, with no real personal interaction. We have to laugh at the right time, or be awed, or surprised, on cue. Often, when I have a special interest, it won't be addressed because either a) the interpretor doesn't have the information; b) there isn't time, they can't stop long enough to deal with special interests and still keep on time with the other tours going on, or c) they simply don't care, so don't ask for questions."

Donna Nortman

"Most recently I toured several historic houses with some good friends who are not in the field. We selected homes of great interest to us -- either for the architectural design or the significance of its residents and the roles they played in history. In each situation -- I was embarrassed by the quality of the information shared and the manner of delivery. On a number of occasions, it was clear that among the visitors on these tours, some were more informed or as informed as the volunteer tour guides. However, the guides did not encourage discussion or exchange of ideas. Rather, they controlled information and ensured that theirs was the only voice heard. In addition, there was a lot of focus on material cultural and not ideas. I came away from each experience disappointed and our group of travelers would have lively follow-up discussions based upon our "interpretation" of what we saw and how it connected to our prior research on related topics."

Marianne Bez

No wonder that attendance at historic houses is declining when we, members of the profession, find the tours boring. Why is that? a number of list readers shared viewpoints gained from experiences as directors, educators and curators. In particular, Erin Crissman, newly appointed curator at the Farmers Museum in Cooperstown, NY and Ken Shefsiek, director of the Geneva Historical Society,  provided great food for thought.

Erin's thoughts:

1. Lack of any redeeming connection to the present individual HHM visitor-- almost every house tour I've ever been on is structured like this: A) this is the home of Wealthy McMillionare who was so gracious as to have left us his home as a museum, or his home was rescued from destruction by a patriotic women's organization. B) Here is his sideboard, bed, fancy china, chamber pot, fireplace, etc. C) "back then" everything was different D) Thank you for visiting.

2. Who wants to stand up for an hour while learning about a person who is presented to you as having essentially nothing in common with yourself?

3. Many house museum tours are focused on material wealth. Although it seems that an increasing number of Americans are able to purchase larger and larger vehicles, there are many who are not able to do that. There is a vast difference between the refinement with which many of America's HHMs were created and furnished (and even different than the 50s, 60s and 70s when they were made into museums) and the consumerism of today. Something needs to be done to bridge this gap. The act of purchasing a chippendale sideboard in 1770, and purchasing the biggest HDTV available, are two very different experiences in too many ways to enumerate in this email.

And Ken's:

1)It is my experience that oftentimes tours are so boring not because of the material being offered, but rather because the right type of people have not been chosen to be tour guides. There are many reasons for this (it is difficult to turn down a volunteer, guides when paid are paid so low that the pool of possibilities is low, etc.). While I don't believe in the "edutainment" concept (i.e. that people want primarily to be entertained, with only a little education on the side), I believe that learning occurs better when the teaching is offered by someone who is entertaining. We need to think carefully about the type of person we hire. Guiding/teaching is a type of performance, and we need people that are capable of performing. I think it is a fallacy that tours necessarily need to be interactive (discussions between the guest and the guide, touching things, etc.); we have all had experiences of listening to excellent, engaging presentations by people in any number of fields without have to make a lecture a discussion. This is not to say that discussion isn't good and positive, but I don't think we should always think that that is necessary. "Engagement" can be internal and mental.

2)For regular HHM goers, tours that focus on objects quickly become boring, which is a point that probably does not need to be made. Objects, however, are extremely important, but the objects discussed (unless a guest has a particular question) should not be chosen willy-nilly as they often are. Rather, the objects chosen for discussion must address an important issue or reveal a relevant context. Oftentimes guides also assume that their guests know nothing, so they start at the ground up, such as explaining the basics of cooking over a fire and the tools of the kitchen, or identifying a Chippendale chair.

3)Many tours are so tedious because the limitations of archival evidence sometimes impedes the development of good tours. I'm working on a new tour of Rose Hill Mansion in Geneva, NY (1839 Greek Revival), and have access to a wealth of primary documents that will enable us to construct a very "human" tour using the words of the people that lived in and visited the house. I had virtually nothing so personal to work with when I was the educator at Huguenot Street. The challenge there was to focus on those issues that resonated in today's world -- ethnicity, race, socioeconomic relationships. For tours not to be boring, I think they need to be "humanized," by which I mean they address relationships between people. They also need to be evocative, by trying to recreate the texture of life in a particular place. However, these goals require a great deal from our guides, and from us, both in terms of continuing our own education and in finding time to offer appropriate training. Lacking alot of personal materials (letters, diaries, etc.), bringing the people to life takes a great deal of time and work to find and decide what information actually does that.

4)While we are often somewhat burdened with either the house saved for patriotic reasons or the house saved for its architectural/artistic value, that may not be as much of a problem as we think (this is a particular problem for the great architectural masterpieces, as they present a lifestyle that few can relate to). As Erin Crissman wrote earlier today, many of the houses are the house of millionaire so-and-so. If we use millionaire so-and-so as a point of reference to talk about others (the millionaire's family, servants, tenants, slaves, people beyond the household itself, the house in relation to its historic community, etc.), we can bring up issues of class, race, gender, etc. We generally talk about what the house and the owner are rather than what they are not, but every person and object substantially derives its identity by what he/she/it are and what they are not. HHM tours are often so boring because they don't explore these relationships to the level and sophistication necessary to bring about intellectual and even emotional connection.

In short, tours are boring because they are insufficiently sophisticated. I don't mean that they have to be overly academic or intellectual, but they are often not designed "to touch us" in thoughtful, intellectual and/or emotional ways. I was inspired when I visited Historic Cherry Hill recently for a regular guided tour by a volunteer docent. She was carefully trained to connect in all those ways, and as I understand it, their training program is rigorous and extended, and guides are carefully monitored. The docent perhaps was not "entertaining," but she understood the complex issues being addressed and was able to communicate them with the visitors.

I hope that this helping of food for thought inspires lively discussion at your own historic site about how to approach the work we do. 

Photo: Unknown historic interior from morguefile.com

Making House Tours Better

Yesterday, I facilitated an early morning session at the AAM conference called, "Why Are Historic House Tours So Boring?" To my surprise, almost fifty thoughtful, passionate museum staff members from all over the country turned out to share ideas, concerns, and perspectives on the topic. In a future post, I'll summarize the conversation, but here are links to some of the resources that came up during the conversation.

Shared docent training: Historic sites in Portland, ME have joined together to develop a joint twelve week docent training program called Portland's History Docents. A great idea on how to make limited resources go further and create a group of participants who feel connected to each other--and the group of sites. Learn more here.

Several participants who had come to historic sites from the realm of interpreting the natural world highly recommended the materials developed by the National Association for Interpretation. They offer training and certification for guides, trainers, planners and managers, as well as a wide variety of training materials.

Few participants made use of front end or formative evaluation in developing tours or other interpretive materials. Resources on these types of evaluation can be found at:

National Park Service, Harpers Ferry Center, Media Evaluation and Visitor Research:
basic explanation of front-end and formative evaluation and examples of evaluations from sites as diverse as the Grand Canyon, the African Burial Ground in New York City, and the visitor center at the Gulf Islands National Seashore.

AAM's Committee on Audience Research and Evaluation (CARE) includes great materials introducing the concepts and techniques of visitor studies from sessions presented at AAM conferences.

Resources for thinking about civic engagement--making your sites matter more to your audiences:

International Coalition of Historic Sites of Conscience

Lower East Side Tenement Museum

And, for additional information on developing interpretive plans, tours, and training docents:

Two books: Great Tours: Thematic Tours and Guide Training for Historic Sites by Barbara Abramoff Levy, Susan Porter Schreiber and Sandra MacKenzie Lloyd; Exhibit Labels by Beverly Serrell (great for thinking about those Big Ideas), and Interpreting Historic House Museums, edited by Jessica Foy Donnelly (all published by Altamira Press).

Photo: the courtyard of the hospital in Arles. No reason, other than it was very snowy coming back from Denver and this was an antidote to the late winter!

Why Are Historic House Tours So Boring?

Just a quick post to note that I will be posting a couple entries on this topic, based on an Idea Lounge session at AAM today. Please check back!

Leadership at a Crossroads

This is the first of a series of several entries about sessions at the American Association of Museums Annual Conference. I'm here in Denver: beautiful city, great restaurants, and interesting sessions. I find myself making all kinds of notes, so these entries represent my informal reporting and first thoughts stimulated by sessions I'm attending. The first session I attended was on leadership stories, moderated by Michael Spock, formerly director of the Boston Children's Museum. It's a rare thing to hear a director talk about his mistakes, and what he learned about them, and that's what he shared with us. Increasing deficits, board revolts, and staff who described him as the main problem. As he put it, "I was sending mixed signals and keeping everyone confused." After working with an outside consulting firm, and the hard work of board, staff and Michael himself, they managed to get some organizational clarity and turn the museum around. What made the difference?

• Placing the director's motives and vision in the open
• Distribute leadership
• Creating a client-centered institution
• Common values
• Inventing tools that allowed for delegation
• Leaders learning to be tough, nimble managers
• Value experimentation and admit mistakes

I've been a director and know how hard those changes are to make in any institution. And in Spock's talk, along with the other presenters, it was clear that being a director means being able to look deeply at yourself, at your own skills (and lack thereof), motives, and areas to improve--and to embrace the challenge of making that change.

Maureen Robinson, a board specialist, talked about the "velocity of leadership." As she put it, directors need a lot of nurturing, but we're going through them like Kleenex. The patience of the Children's Museum board, while Michael Spock learned to be a leader, is rarely, if ever, shown to directors today. I became a director in my mid-twenties, right out of graduate school, and I still think of those board members at the Delaware County Historical Association, whose patience and wisdom gave me the time and space to learn.

The solution, from her perspective: learning to change behaviors of both directors and trustees. Tops on her list for directors: stop hiding from your board. Share information, work to create knowledge and understanding on your board, and don't just create a small cadre of board members you deal with. When I became a director of the first time, and my organization had never had a director before, I soon learned that it was wholly to my benefit to devote some time at each meeting to a discussion of museum-related issues. That board became my first audience, and when a board member, a local postmistress, asked a foundation director about intellectual control of a proposed exhibition--I knew I had the beginnings of success. But she also mentioned one of the hardest things to do--particularly in a small museum--which is distinguish between your self and your role.

Trustees--what can you change? Hire the best person for the job, work to make that person successful, pay competitive salary and benefits (perhaps the hardest), encourage learning, see the task of running the organization as a partnership and create an effective and engaged board culture. That will be different for every board, but boards seem to work best when board members both like and respect each other--and the director.

Tom Downey of the Denver Children's Museum is a devotee of Jim Collins' book, Good to Great (now on my reading list). A lawyer turned museum director, he described himself as unburdened by experience or skill," when he started the job. As a leader and manager, he views his role as, literally or figuratively, every day, asking his direct reports, "What can I do to help you do your job better?" He's the bottom of the pyramid rather than the top. He also recommended determining how to spend time on the hard decisions, and not the easy ones. Of the easy ones he says, "It is far better to make a wrong decision today a right decision six weeks from now."

I'm not necessarily big on leadership theory, but the frankness of these leaders, and their illustrations directly from their own careers took the session from theory into the realm of practical knowledge. It seems to me that the ability to have a conversation--to be able to speak clearly about your own motives, hopes and vision for the organization--and to listen with purpose to others--will go a long way towards making a good director.

Photo: Miners talking at Labor Day Celebration, Silverton, Colorado, 1940. Photograph by Russell Lee, FSA/OWI Collection, Library of Congress

Mall Walking

At the Upstate History Alliance/Museum Association of New York conference, James Chung and Susie Wilkenning of Reach Advisors led a great session through Colonie Center in Albany, where we met with various retailers and learned about how they brand and present their businesses, who their clients are, and even what music they choose to play. Read great observations from Susie, James, and Winterthur student Amanda Rosner at Reach Advisor's blog, Museum Audience Insight.

In addition to the branding discussions, I was also struck by the ways in which these businesses approach training and rewarding front line people. At American Eagle, the manager noted that they always interview job applicants in a group--and if you can't talk in a group, they are fairly sure that you won't be the kind of outgoing sales person they're looking for. They have quite definite ideas about that person--they must be able to attract, engage and outfit (AEO) their customers. How do they do it? An initial training, and then direct, ongoing coaching and modeling.

Other places make real commitments to their front line staff as well. You would hope that bookstore staff knew something about books--sure enough, all three employees who spoke with us each named a different, very current book they were reading. By using staff recommendations (why couldn't we use those in exhibits?) and hotlines to report best selling items, these businesses gave their front line staff a sense of power--however, it was still very clear that it was critical that front line staff embrace and understand the values of the organization. Different rewards were given to staff for their efforts--at Sephora, a bonus goes to every employee (the same amount, no matter your position) if sales goals are reached.

What does this have to do with museums? How many museums have you been to where the front line staff looked pained as you approach? or ones that told you, "we're closing at 4:00" when it's only just after three? or docents who told you about their family connection to the site, rather than about the larger meanings conveyed in a carefully crafted tour? I think it's about two areas where we, particularly small museums, could greatly improve on our practices.

First, values and mission. It was amazing to me that all of these businesses had a very clear idea of their values and their mission, and that employees directly understood it. It seems to me that all of us, as organizations whose values do not necessarily include profit, need to do a better job at making sure our values and mission are embued in everything we do. At a recent meeting, when I asked a director about the organizational mission, he said, "oh, it's on the brochure." That doesn't quite compare to the LL Bean staff member relating the story of LL Bean's original boots and the company's values that spring from that original story.

Second, recruiting and training. If American Eagle can take 18 year olds and turn them into enthusiastic salespeople for plaid shorts and flip flops, then why can't we take all our volunteers and turn them into enthusiastic salespeople for our museums? I wonder if it's not because we're scared of them, we wonder how we will get other volunteers if we don't let the ones we have do just what they want. What would happen if we made it cool to be a volunteer? Maybe we provide free stuff (okay, like Amanda, I was seduced by the water bottle and light up hat.) and give them a way, within an organizational structure, to share their input to help shape the experience but to make sure that the visitor experience remains one consistent with our values. Maybe then visitors will flock to our museums the same way they do the malls.

Two Women in Philadelphia

In the past couple months, I've seen two separate shows in Philadelphia that were retrospectives of individual women artists: Cecilia Beaux at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts and Frida Kahlo at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Until my drive home yesterday, I really hadn't thought about what the shows had in common, and what made them appealing to me as a visitor.

Cecilia Beaux (1855-1942) was Philadelphia born and trained (at the Academy) and her extensive body of portrait work reflects her own social sphere--which included a number of notable women making their way in academics and the arts. The exhibit was simply installed, and the labels for individual labels did a great job at setting the story of both Beaux's work and the way in which the life of the sitter fit within Beaux's own life. The museum was not very crowded, so it was a real chance to see and contemplate the work. The museum had also produced a very simple xeroxed family guide that encouraged family visitors to look for "clues" and meaning in individual paintings. I didn't see families using it, but I liked it enough to bring home to save as an example.

Frida Kahlo (1907-1954), of course, is an icon, and the show at the Philadelphia Museum of Art reflects that iconic status. It was expensive to see (enough that I became a member as I go to Philadelphia on a fairly regular basis) and it does seem to me that if you purchase a timed ticket than you shouldn't have to spend almost 45 minutes in line. The audio tour is free, and gallery attendants drape it around you--sort of a benediction as you enter. I loved the colors of the exhibit and it was wonderful to enter through the first several rooms that were photographic images of Kahlo, Diego Rivera and their lives together. It made her a real person--and served as the prologue for her work of creating herself as an iconic, complicated figure in her work.

I appreciated the way that the labels (I'm not much of an audio tour person--I find that when everyone uses the audio tours, conversation declines in exhibitions) really helped understand the circumstances under which she created the work, and the many symbols and cultural practices that she drew upon. Just a few things I didn't like--I always wish that, for a show like this, you didn't have to shuffle around, looking over shoulders to see both work and labels. At the Rijksmuseum, main labels are installed large and very high up, so you can see them, even when there is a crowd in the room. That would have been nice here. Individual object labels were well-written and interesting, but too small to see in a crowd. Importantly, materials were also available in Spanish. And why does a male British voice have to do the audio tour narration? Is that the voice of curatorial authority? (okay, I just checked and it is the voice of curatorial authority, one of the exhibit's curators, Michael Taylor--hear his podcast about the exhibition here)

Even though Beaux's work feels very cool, and Kahlo's very hot, they share the common denominators of concern with the human condition and the fierce, driving urge to create, to be an artist.

















The Frida Kahlo show is at the Philadelphia Museum of Art through May 18 and will travel to the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art this summer. The Cecilia Beaux show has already ended.

Please Do Not Touch the Walrus

I'm just back from the Upstate History Alliance/Museum Association of New York conference in Albany, where there were several great thought-provoking sessions. Curator Erin Crissman led a discussion about museum objects--not about cataloging, or caring for, or even perhaps completely interpreting, but she posed the question, "what is keeping us from using the objects in our collection?" Among other things, she had found some great images of objects, many of them outdoor sculpture, that had been touched by viewers, resulting in shiny bronze feet, noses, or other appendages. It sent me off on a little random googling myself to see what kinds of Do Not Touch signs are out there. Of course, you won't find a picture of a do not touch sign on a museum's website, but you do on flickr and picasa. Here's a random example:















Erin talked about wanting to develop an alternative to the no touching rule--one that gives visitors that emotional connection while still preserving the object. Not surprisingly, the session was a lively discussion. One participant pointed out, that if you want to touch authentic objects, plenty of the same types of things can be found at any antique store. Another noted that, even with the most valuable objects, at an auction, they can be touched, sat in, and poked at--but then, when they're bought by a museum they become untouchable. One participant wondered if we would lose our reliability, our trustworthiness, if we allowed people to touch, our credibility as a place of preservation. (For a great post on museums and reliability, see Nina Simon's blog, Museum 2.0). Another reminded us of the importance of developing ways to engage all our senses, and of course several people touched on, from Erin at the the very start of her talk and others, that at historic sites, we allow visitors to touch perhaps our most precious objects--the building itself. During the discussion I also thought about the ways that historic but sacred objects continue to be in use by many groups, perhaps only being used on a once a year basis, but used none-the-less.

But why do people want to touch? Is it just because we can't--that visitors love the lure of the illicit? Or is it that touch is really a way to make an emotional connection? or a tool for learning? Do we want to be like those people whose objects we want to touch? or do we want to remind ourselves that our lives are different.

Without question, touching can provide an experience that lasts for a lifetime. One participant in the session, a well-seasoned professional, had a childhood filled with family vacations to presidential homes. The one he remembers best? When a docent let him go pick up and bring to share the bedwarmer at Woodrow Wilson's home. For me, when I was in elementary school, we took a family trip to New York and visited the Museum of Modern Art. There, in front of me was perhaps the first real work of art I really knew--Van Gogh's Starry Night. But it was so different in person than in the reproductions I'd seen--it not only had color, but it had dimension and texture. So what did I do--I snuck quickly snuck out a finger and touched the surface. Sorry MOMA, for those oils on my fingers and any potential damage, but thanks for the memory.















(and a thanks to all those of you at the conference who mentioned you read my blog!)