Change is Coming!

Everyone in Ukraine says change will take time, it might take generations, it is hard to change the old Soviet way of doing things. But yesterday, I got to see that change is coming, that it is possible to change the old ways of doing things, and that Ukrainian museums, despite difficult financial times, have people working in them with the power and energy to make them new places, connected to their audiences.

I met Tatiana and Anya, staff members at the National Art Museum of Ukraine. The first thing I saw as we entered the museum is a feedback board, asking visitors to share their opinions on how to make the museum their favorite museum. A simple thing, but very unusual here.



And then, just off the main entrance, was an entire room devoted to children--it contained an exhibit about understanding color. The exhibit had contemporary art work from the collections, interactive computer games, and a couple hands-on activities for children. Anya and Tatiana were justifiedly very proud of their work--it was engaging and exciting.

They also do family programs and the technology and software for their computer interactives were developed and contributed by a father of one of their regular young visitors. Their enthusiasm was infectious and I'll be spending a future day with them brainstorming and prototyping some additional interactives. Anya said that one of the hardest things was that she'd been to several different trainings and had heard people talk about interactives and other family activities, but had not been to see them in European or American museums. So hopefully by playing around with some prototypes and some sample family activity materials I brought with me, they can continue the development of new ideas in their museum.



And at the Ivan Honchar Museum, we met again in a planning process for an exhibit on Ukrainian kalitki, or doors. My colleagues there and I will be starting a blog, I believe a first for a Ukrainian museum, that documents our planning process, in both Ukrainian and English. We hope it will serve as a model for other exhibition projects. Our plans include fieldwork in several regions of Ukraine and an exhibition in their newly refurbished exhibition hall, to open this fall. I'll post the blog address when it's up and running.



From top to bottom:
Anya, Tatiana and I in the interactive space at the National Art Museum of Ukraine, photo by Irina Leonenko
Anya and Tatiana with their talkboard board
Anya
The planning team at the Honchar Museum in the new exhibit space
A modern day kalitki

Opinion Leaders

In this week’s class, my students and I had an interesting discussion about where trustworthy information comes from. I cited American surveys that have shown that museums are among the most trusted sources of information. For Ukrainians, that’s not so at all. In Soviet times, museums were used as tools to advance state policy. For instance, in an earlier conversation, one student said, “If the policy was against Poland, then museum exhibits were created to show that Poland was bad.”

Students (none of whom have any direct memory of the Soviet Union because they are too young), said for the Soviets, museums were a replacement for religion; that they were to be spiritual places—not for learning, and certainly not for fun. I learned this the other day when one of the babushkas (one of the old ladies who sit, watching, in every museum gallery) told a friend and I that we should not be talking so much, we would not have time to see the exhibits!

I’m beginning to understand that many museums here suffer from the same kind of public cynicism that pervades other elements of life here as well—as one of my students put it, “everybody lies.” They do believe that everyone lies, but also when asked who they trusted for information, said, “opinion leaders,” and when I asked further about who those opinion leaders might be, it wasn’t quite clear to me. It depends on what you want to know about. And one said, I suspect accurately, that the only people you can really trust for information are your friends. I hope, by the end of my time with my students, that I’ve encouraged the skills of critical thinking to enhance their broad-based knowledge.

What does this mean for Ukrainian museums moving forward? I think there’s an amazing opportunity for museums to begin to break through that cynicism by creating exhibitions that really encourage public dialogue about all sorts of issues—about public policy, about the role and importance of Ukrainian traditions in both village and city, about art, science and literature. But it will take a museum staff with vision and commitment to do so—and in any country, that’s a rare and wonderful thing. I think there are staff here interested in doing that, and unfortunately, a highly bureaucratic, top-down structure makes initiative more difficult.

Like US museums—and even more so—Ukrainian museums suffer from a lack of funds. So the work of changing perceptions is going to have to be not with a big splash, but with small but exciting changes. As my friend Anne Ackerson says, “Good ideas don’t cost money!”

Above: one of Ukraine's opinion leaders in the world of sports, soccer star Andriy Shevchenko.

A Nice Day to be an American

Not much to say, other than it was important and meaningful and memorable to sit with other Fulbrighters, on an dark cold night in Kyiv, watching a jerky, sometimes not quite there live feed of the inauguration. Today in class, my students expressed some cynicism: not much difference between American political parties, the electoral college is not a democratic system, etc. but I find the hopefulness as we face hard challenges ahead to be a compelling part of the American spirit. I felt connected to a whole community--millions of people--who hoped and worked for change. I can't remember any other inauguration, but will remember this one for sure.

Nostalgia, Soviet Style

This weekend, my colleague and friend Irina Leonenko took me to a fascinating restaurant. Not much populated by locals, the place is furnished like a Soviet kommunal'naya kvartica of the 1960s-1970s--a big communal apartment. So in a way, it's like a historic house museum, but one where you can come in, sit down, and touch everything. Irina recognizes furniture and decoration just like in her grandmother's house. I suppose, in a way, it's the Russian/Ukrainian equivalent of Johnny Rocket's or some other kind of '50s diner or malt shop.



As I sat there, I thought about how useful a shift in perspectives is. From my original, too American-centric perspective, I made assumptions t that most people must have been happy to leave this communal life behind; that the end of the Soviet system was a good thing. But Irina (wise beyond her years) reminded me that a place like this is about nostalgia; that for whole generations, this was where your grandparents lived, where you celebrated New Years and other holidays; that this was home. In the same way, when Americans visit a '50s diner, we don't think about McCarthyism and segregation; people here probably don't think about their country and the time's problems either.

It seemed to be as well-furnished as a historic house museum might be, but the experience of actually sitting in the space, reading the newspaper and having tea made it much more meaningful than just a historic house tour. With all the debate in the US about historic houses and their declining attendance, it certainly encouraged me to think about other alternatives.

For a fascinating look at Soviet style communal living, check out this great website: Communal Living in Russia: A Virtual Museum of Everyday Life, produced, believe it or not, by professors at Colgate University in upstate New York.



Images from the restaurant; at top, Irina must look as her grandmother did!

Contemporary Art in Kyiv

On Friday night, a totally different view of Ukraine. Thanks to Myron Stachiw, director of the Fulbright office here, I attended an opening at the Pinchuk Art Centre , one of Kyiv’s most popular places. The Art Center is right downtown in a very contemporary art space on several floors with a top floor café with a great view of the city. The opening, which was invitation only, was packed, and packed particularly with young people.

For me, the art was interesting, but the experience even more so. Great people watching of all sorts—mostly all in black, as befits all contemporary art openings. Several of the artists were there and lots of conversation everywhere. I had two favorite art pieces, both video installations, and favorites because of they way they engaged audiences.



In one, in a long narrow room, a row of large cardboard boxes were stacked and open. As you looked down into them, each one had a different little video piece of people doing different things—I think maybe all on beds. What was fun is that you couldn’t see what people were looking at, and their expressions ranged from laughter to quizzical. Because people gathered around the boxes, you gained the opportunity to share the moment with friends, and perhaps even with strangers, something that seems not much a part of Ukrainian life.

I met the director of the Pinchuk Foundation who said that, as soon as the exhibit opens to the public, there will be queues outside waiting to get in as they are for every show, it almost doesn’t matter the content—they’ve had 400,000 visitors in two years. I’m guessing that far outstrips other Ukrainian museums. It’s a great argument for free admission. They do several shows a year and are very clearly a part of the larger contemporary art world—their next show is Damien Hurst. I hope, while I’m here, to get more of a chance to learn more about the Pinchuk Center and its work

They are an art center, not a museum, and I found myself wishing for a bit more interpretive material—but that’s no surprise, I usually do when I see highly conceptual contemporary work. Mass MOCA’s interpretation strikes me as a great solution. In each space, you can pick up a little rack card about the piece—it’s not obtrusive, but provides people like me with some background about the artist and his or her intent.

How does all this happen? Victor Pinchuk is one of Ukraine’s very richest men and his foundation is one of the largest and most active here. His foundation undertakes a broad range of activities including scholarships, work on HIV/AIDS, the Art Center and more. Without the constraints of the government, or an entrenched staff, or the endless struggle for funds, he is able to create the Art Center that interests him—but clearly interests everyone else as well.

What’s also intriguing to me is what we take for granted at home but is perhaps new here. All these different ideas about museums and culture are what creates a vibrant cultural life for a place: folk music in a concert hall, Maria Prymashenko’s paintings, complex video installations in an all white space; and even the rock band playing at the subway entrance as I made my way home on a snowy evening. There’s room for all of it.

Opening at the Pinchuk Art Center, January 16, 2009

Music and Art

Yesterday was a day filled with music and art. I began the day with a meeting at the Ivan Honchar Museum to discuss ideas about an exhibit about kalitka--Ukrainian doorways, as shown in a Russian example below, that will be the subject of an exhibition there this fall. It was great to begin working with Ukrainian colleagues and to learn from them about their work and as well, I hope, begin to share some ideas from American museums. We have much to learn from each other. The plans include actually going out to some villages in March to collect these doors and I hope to be able to join the team on at least one fieldwork trip.



After the meeting, Irina and I visited the Decorative Arts Museum, all part of the same complex. Incredible textiles and costumes, but I was blown away by the work of Maria Prymachenko--one of her works is at the top of this entry. She was an untrained artist from a small village, but it was great to see, in an exhibit, how her work changed over time and she became bolder and bolder in her approach. Her 100th anniversary is this year and there are many exhibitions --this was just one. The museum owns more than 650 works and I'd say perhaps 75 were in the show. I'd love to see more.



That evening, thanks to the generosity of Ihor Poshvailo at the Honchar museum, Irina and I went to a concert of the National Men's Choir at the National Philharmonic. Appearing with the choir was Nina Matvienko, one of Ukraine's most famous singers. The music was all acapella, and everyone had the most beautiful voices. After a long day of listening and thinking, it really was transporting to just sit in the balcony and listen. I was intrigued by the mix of people--young and old, there, although few children. The concert was a formal one, with bouquets presented to singers, shouts of "bravo," and as always I'm finding in Ukraine, enthusiastic singing when given the chance to join in. It was a Christmas concert (yesterday was Old New Year), so I think it finally signals the end of the holidays for me!

Top to Bottom: Maria Prymachenko painting
Kalitki
Performance at the Philharmonic

My First Day of School

I remember those first days of school in elementary school: with nervous anticipation, we'd get up, put on our new school clothes, and get ready for whatever the school year would bring. My dad would always line us up to take our pictures on the front porch before we walked to school. Tuesday was my first day at school here in Ukraine, and in some ways, was much the same. Except in this case, walking to school also involved the Metro, and school was not a little tiny elementary school, but the National University of Kyiv-Mohyla Academy, and most importantly, that I was not longer the student but the teacher. Plenty of nervous anticipation still.

I'm very lucky to be teaching at Kyiv-Mohyla, considered to be Ukraine's premier university. It has a long and distinguished history, founded in 1615. It closed, for a complicated set of reasons having to do with Russian rule, in the 18th century. After Ukrainian independence, in 1991, the school was reborn. My classroom is in the main building, with its beautiful classical curved front and unlike US college classrooms, big wooden desks that are shared by students, rather than your basic plastic chair with armrest.

After filling out forms for various things and getting a brief introduction to the Department of Cultural Studies, grading and the like, it was time for class. I have 21 students, all of whom are in the final semester for their master's degree. Mostly women (just like museum studies classes in the US), and all bright, smart and articulate. The focus of their studies was incredibly diverse: reality shows, Soviet cinema, magicians, Russian literature, Jewish studies, sleeping areas (suburbs to us), horror and Soviet immigration, to name a few.

We had a wide-ranging first discussion, talking about mission and vision, but also about the structure of American museums, and museums that they had visited and found compelling in some way. Many of them have traveled and those compelling museums ranged from a Holocaust Museum in Australia to the Tate to the Museum of Sex in New York, along with a selection of museums here in Kyiv. But we talked the most about why they think most people think that museums are boring, why they are, as one student said, "a necropolis," and the fact that here in Ukraine, visiting museums is seen as something one does in school, as a child, and never again. But the funny part they said, is that the experience for those children is so often lacking in interest or engagement. (and, of course, not so different than some museums in the US—in working on history museums I've had many a community member say, "well, I visited in fourth grade!)

When I asked why they had taken this course, I learned that every final semester masters level student had to take one of a selection of a very few courses for completion—electives, I suppose, and I've ended up with the students who were really looking for something different than the usual. One said, "perhaps we are the troublemakers." Perfect! I thought—I've luckily got a group of students much like me. I'm looking forward to a fascinating semester as I suspect I'll learn as much from them as they learn from me.

And First Day at Home



After lots of apartment hunting, we have a place to live. We've found an apartment on the 9th floor of a Khruschev era apartment building in Pechersk, a neighborhood of Kyiv. It's about a five minute walk to the Metro, across the street from the War Veterans Hospital, and in a lively, busy neighborhood. It'll be nice to begin to settling in.

Top: My students at Kyiv-Mohyla
Bottom: View of the War Veterans Hospital from our apartment