The Beautiful Game

I'm not a huge sports fan, but a recent New York Times article about a new soccer museum in Sao Paulo, Brazil caught my attention. According to the article, it's a shrine with all the jerseys, balls and paraphernalia you might imagine, but it's also a museum that uses sport to explain a country; how "the national pastime has come to represent and inspire the multi-racial, samba-loving soul of the people" and how Brazil transformed an English schoolboy sport into "the beautiful game" of passing and dribbling that is Brazilian soccer today.

I was particularly struck by how the governor of Sao Paulo, Jose Serra, described his dream for the museum, "I imagined a museum fundamentally made up of ideas, memories and not so much of relics. I thought of something that would express the memory of our soccer, the great performances as well as our sufferings."

So I'll probably never see a World Cup game in person nor can I tell you about any of Pele's 1,282 goals, but, based on Jose Serra's dream, I'd love to see this museum of ideas and memories.
Above: Pele doing a bicycle kick

Do Cookies Make Ideas Better?

Lately I've been spending time facilitating strategic planning with a number of small organizations. I'm just wrapping up my process with the Historical Society of Woodstock and on my beautiful drives down and back through the Catskills I reflected on what made this project such a pleasure. Woodstock is a unique place--where else does local history include knowing where Bob Dylan composed? It combines a long Catskill agricultural and industrial history with a twentieth century history that intertwines the local community, visual and performing artists, and popular culture. But it is not, as the town spends a good deal of time explaining, the place where the Festival took place.

The society was founded in the 1930s--and when I first met with the board last December, they had just come out of a very difficult time. The society had been run as a closed organization for decades and as a result, had no meaning for Woodstock's residents or visitors. On relatively short notice, they had had to move the entire collection to another building so improvements could be made on their own structure (owned by the town). It was a small board and I sensed some anxiety about the process moving forward.

Over the past months, that small group has really developed. At last week's meeting, announced one board member, "now we're a team!" They brought several important qualities to the planning process that, from my perspective, helped create an energetic and meaningful plan.

1. Openness and Creativity
They were open to all sorts of things: to advice from me, to what community focus groups had to say, to advice from other consultants and to new ideas from everywhere. It was a group of creative thinkers who felt free to share ideas with each other.

2. Not too Big, Not too Small
Many organizations dream big--but lack the resources to complete those dreams (see recent press about the Mark Twain House and the Mount for just two examples). The Historical Society of Woodstock's new plan is both ambitious, and I think, achievable, by a targeted use of volunteer and other resources.

3. Make it Fun!
I didn't go to any meeting where they didn't seem happy to see each other; to report back good buzz about the historical society in the community, a new object acquired, and to share a meal, or at the very least, home-baked ginger cookies and lemonade. That feeling of a welcoming place is beginning to spread to the community.

4. Listen to the Community
We held two community conversations about the future of the organization. One was parents and the other was long-time (ie twenty years or more) community members. Poets, musicians, highway workers, farmers, retirees and more. It's clear that a passion for this particular place and the values it represents motivates both new and long-time residents. History plays an integral role in that, as one focus group participant said, "Even the kid from Minnesota playing guitar on the green; he comes for the history of the place." All agreed that the mountains made the place special, they create, as one person remarked, “one big hug.”

The historical society's new plan focuses around the idea of conversations--in part, because, in listening to those focus groups, that's something that matters deeply to this community and that the historical society can do well for many different audiences.

Sometimes focus groups feel tacked on, not substantially a part of a planning process. Here, our sessions about vision, mission and goals really were strongly influenced by those lively community conversations, with lemonade and cookies, on sunny summer evenings in those beautiful mountains.

My Day as a Volunteer

Yesterday I spent the afternoon door-to-door canvassing for Barack Obama in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. If you're not an Obama supporter, don't worry--you can keep reading too. I chose to volunteer because I believe it's important, but today's post is about volunteering--about the lessons and reminders I took away from my participation. So, here's my top ten of things to remember as you work with volunteers based on my experience with the Obama campaign.

1. Make it easy. I signed up online and then got, via email, a useful, printable pdf file that contained all the information I needed: when to go, where to go, what to wear, what I might be doing, what I could bring (cell phone). When I got there, they had everything we needed to go out--clipboards, flyers, print out maps locating each house, lists of people to contact.

2. Be welcoming. That useful pdf suggested that you arrive before 10 AM. I couldn't, and appeared in the office around noon. No one said, "oh, I'm sorry, you should have been here at 10; we already trained people." Instead, I was enthusiastically welcomed, signed in, and given a task. (and, offered food and drink as well).

3. Make a personal connection. Around the room were construction paper squares with individuals sharing about why they supported Obama. In the training, the volunteer talked about her own beliefs and connections. It all connected me, the volunteer, with bigger issues--and then, to connected me to the people whose doors I was going to knock on.

4. Make it clear. The Obama campaign operates at a high level of detail (supporting Obama, leaning towards Obama, undecided, leaning towards McCain, other--loads of check boxes on forms). For all of us who learn in different ways, the information was provided verbally, and then also in a useful, easy to read cheat sheet as we went out into the field.



5. Train. A very different approach than many of us use. As each group of canvassers came in, another volunteer would sit and do a small group training. So just as we finished, a pair of fathers, with kids in tow, came in and were getting trained. And importantly, the trainer directed her comments both to the dads and to the kids, who were very excited about helping. Which leads me to:

6. Involve families. These were young kids, but I've found that, almost without fail, those who are active volunteers in any organization were introduced to it by their parents. As a kid, I spent my time at church rummage sales, fundraisers and other activities; my own daughter did the same at many PTA and historical society events. We might want to find more ways to involve parents and kids together as volunteers.

7. Trust. It's amazing if you think about it. This is a group that's never met me before, gives me 15 minutes of training, and then sends me out to convey their message to the community. And, I think my volunteer partner (who'd I'd never met before and was a first time canvasser as well) and I did a pretty good job. That's because they trusted us to do so.

8. Make people feel they're part of an important, collective effort. Obviously, the presidential campaign is important. Perhaps it's a bit harder to talk about the importance of cataloging a photograph collection or giving a tour to school kids. But let's face it, if we can't figure out ways to convey passion, to convey the importance of what we're doing, then we can't find volunteers and we can't keep them.

9. Give up those preconceptions. Every door you knock on is different. People have different life stories, different beliefs, and different histories. You never know who will surprise you.

10. Listen! I think this might be the most important. Recently, I've worked with a couple organizations who struggled to recruit audiences for focus groups and perhaps, haven't quite seen the value of seeking out community input. As we went door-to-door, I learned alot about what this particular community thinks. I learned the not-so-serious--that people really like Halloween decorations--and the serious--that veterans really are concerned about veterans' issues, that the economy trumps almost all concerns, that not all middle-class women think Sarah Palin is a good idea. Imagine if we all, at museums and historical organizations, spent more time listening to our communities hopes and concerns. What kind of exhibits, programs and historic houses could we do then?

And a day later, one more thing.

Follow-Up I received a phone call from a real person on Monday night asking how I liked canvassing, did I want to come back, and could I interest others in coming.



Top to bottom:
My Obama sticker after a day's work
I like Barack Obama because wall at Wilkes-Barre office
Campaign posters in garage window, just before the primary. Waco, Texas, 1938
Dorothea Lange, photographer, FSA/OWI collection, Library of Congress

Scrapbooks

Every local historical society has them. There they sit, the wrong size to fit in a box or on a shelf, sometimes filled with crumbling pages of obituaries. Luckily, Jessica Helfand has written a new book and has a new blog, both called the Daily Scrapbook that encourages new ways of thinking about these oft-ignored parts of our collection. A graphic designer and scrapbook collector, she's produced an amazing look at history. As the website describes it:

Combining pictures, words, and a wealth of personal ephemera, scrapbook makers preserve on the pages of their books a moment, a day, or a lifetime. Highly subjective, rich in emotional meaning, the scrapbook is a unique and often quirky form of expression in which a person gathers and arranges meaningful materials to create a personal narrative. This richly illustrated book is the first to focus close attention on the history of American scrapbooks — their origins, their makers, their diverse forms, the reasons for their popularity, and their place in American culture.

I think the idea of narrative is what's really important here. In museum terms, these scrapbooks are ways of personal meaning-making, the ways in which we assemble our experiences into something greater than the parts.

So let's go back and look at some of those scrapbooks. I remember some beautiful and memorable ones that I've come across: a little book full of tatting patterns and instructions; a travel scrapbook evocative of a type of travel now long gone; a small volume with tenderly pressed plants from places visited on the Grand Tour. The not-as-beautiful but still memorable are those that have carefully pasted- down materials about the larger issues of a particular place and time: the scrapbook full of clippings about the destruction of communities in the building of New York City's reservoirs or the one about the unionization of carpet mills in Amsterdam, NY with its clippings and mimeographed meeting notices. And then of course, there are just those photo albums/scrapbook hybrids that just sort of perfectly capture a summer.

What should we museums do about all our scrapbooks? Sure, maybe an exhibit on them, but maybe we should look at them as tools to learn about constructing a narrative and telling a story. Perhaps we can learn about flow, about words and images together, about humor, and about a compelling connection with people.

Top to bottom:
Family album, Sayre Historical Society

Why Collaborate? It's No Picnic!

At our AASLH session, Nancy Parsons, educator at the Ontario County Historical Society in Canandaigua, NY, shared her perceptive thoughts about what the Summer in the Finger Lakes collaboration meant to her organization. She discussed how the positives: the chance to network with new people, fresh ideas, differing approaches and numerous strengths on the team. The challenges: the longevity of the process, the number of participating organizations and the many staff changes at all except one (Nancy is from the one museum that didn't have staff changes), the sometimes endless seeming discussions and revisions. Overall, however, like all the project participants, she believed that the positives outweighed the negatives. As she ended her presentation, she provided all of us with a mindful piece of math as a way to think about collaboration:

"Six times six times six," she said. Six museums meant "more of everything--ideas, energy, time, discussions, revisions, geographic challenges."

I'm guessing that the current econmic climate might cause more and more organizations to consider collaborations. As you do, consider both the positive and the negative. It's not just more work or more success, as Nancy noted, it's more of everything. Be prepared!

Above: Picnic in the Finger Lakes, circa 1900, from the Summer in the Finger Lakes project

It's Never Too Late to Evaluate!

I facilitated a session at the AASLH conference called, Six Museums, Six Years, Six Exhibits, about a collaborative project of six Finger Lakes organizations to develop six exhibitions about summer in the Finger Lakes (you can learn more about the exhibits here). Museum educator Mari Shopsis gave a terrific overview of the evaluation she developed for the project. I wanted to recap her talk here as a great example of how small museums can undertake an evaluation process.

We came to evaluation fairly late in the process, after some extensive planning and then a hiatus while more funds were generated. Mari reminded me that her first questions about the project were variations of, "are you serious? Are you prepared to listen to what people have to say? Is there still any room to make changes based on the evaluation? Yes, I assured her, with some trepidation as I thought about the schedule. After some discussion, our goals were to:

• Determine whether visitors understand exhibit titles & themes in the same way that exhibit team intended them
• Provide a picture of potential visitor concerns, interests, and associations with exhibit themes.
• Provide visitor feedback for exhibit team, allowing team to refine concepts and presentation strategies before finalization and fabrication

We ended up with three types of evaluations that fell somewhere between front-end and formative:

• One-on-one survey & assessment of visitor interest, administered in three cultural/museum sites across the Finger Lakes
• Prototype interactive components with family and youth groups
• Use likely visitor focus group to assess success of “tweaked” titles and concepts

All of these methods were useful and all revealed different types of information. The one-on-one survey--which was done at locations different than the six museums--really gave us information about what people thought the exhibits would be about, based on our descriptions, and how interested they would be. We used that information to re-shape several titles and interestingly, found that the exhibits of greatest interest to the project team were the least interesting to the public (a cautionary tale for all of us). In practical terms, it meant we had to work a bit harder to make those particular topics--issues of public access and the use of Native American imagery to promote the region--more interesting and accessible.

After that initial work Mari then met with a small group to discuss the tweaked titles and concepts. From that discussion we framed all six titles, and all were a From ...To.... construction, such as From Steamboat Landing to State Park, to give a clear sense that these were historical exhibits with a contemporary connection. And yes, they all also had colons, which we had hoped to omit.

I've written about the interactive prototyping in an earlier post. The format Mari developed was incredibly helpful in refining both language and activities. As a result, our final simple interactives connected more strongly with family audiences.

Mari ended her presentation with three conclusions that provide great reasons for evaluation in projects. The process doesn't have to be elaborate and complex, but I continue to be amazed at how few museums choose to interact with their visitors and potential visitors in this way. It's not that hard, but does require a commitment to the process and a willingness to listen--and act upon--feedback.

So remember:

• It’s never too late to evaluate!
• Evaluation can help to identify themes that resonate for visitors & concepts or wording that confuse or mislead them
• In large collaborative projects, an outside insight into the visitor’s perspective can provide objective information to resolve conflicts or help make difficult decisions

Above: Labor Day sack race at a cottage community on Seneca Lake, 2006, Photo by Drew Harty

"Well, he never married"

Ken Turino of Historic New England led a fascinating session at the recent AASLH conference about the expanding interpretation (or not) of gays in historic houses. Using examples from both Historic New England sites and others, he explored the ways various sites have grappled with the topic. The title of this blog evidently represents one comment some historic houses have used to deflect questions about their owners' sexual orientation. At Historic New England's Beauport, the summer home of interior designer Henry Davis Sleeper, the full life of the owner has been integrated into the story. At Hull House, in Chicago, the staff undertook the alternative labeling project, where visitors (and web visitors) could voice their own perspectives about labels for a portrait of Mary Rozet Smith, Jane Addams longtime companion. Check out for the weblog to see impassioned discussions, pro and con!

Ken's comments clearly discussed the difficulty of finding what was known, at some sites, and perhaps only surmised at others and the challenge of creating new interpretations. But to me, his most important point was that this work is not about classifying people but helping visitors to understand the whole person at that historic house. That seems to me what we want at almost all historic houses--we want to understand the people who lived there. We may or may not care about that chair they bought in 1853, but surely, most of us want to understand the emotions, the human-ness that connects us to those people who once inhabited those historic places.

Above: China Trade Room, Beauport, Historic New England photo