Objects May Be Closer Than They Appear

When I'm at home in the US, I think about Russian war against Ukraine every day, but safe to say, most Americans do not.  The price of fuel, the mid-term elections, and all of our family responsibilities probably take up more space in our minds.

But here in Latvia, and also in Lithuania and Estonia, the war is far from theoretical and I've been stuck both by how present the concerns are, how much they relate to past history, and how museums and other cultural institutions are preparing for the worst.

For the clearest message, the large image at the top of this post is the front of the Pauls Stradiņš Museum of the History of Medicine--located directly across from the Russian Embassy.  The director had it put up two weeks after the full-scale invasion, with the agreement of the full staff, and it has remained ever since, even becoming a more permanent installation.

Blue and yellow Ukrainian flags of support are still seen everywhere on government offices, private homes and public businesses.  In conversations, all sorts of people continue to express support for Ukrainan refugees here in the country (including telling me where to get the best Ukrainian food at a market!).

None of this is surprising.  These three tiny Baltic nations were a part of the Soviet Union from 1944-1991.  With that, of course, came deportations and control of all sorts.  You can see this in memorials like the Memorial to the Victims of the Soviet Occupation "History Tactile", below and the plaques to personages on buildings that show their death dates as due to either Soviets or Nazis.

But even more telling are the stories from everyday people.  The person whose mother was a librarian and hid books in their attic at home so they wouldn't be taken away.  The families who continued speaking their own language, rather than the mandated Russian.  The chef on a market walk who described what the Soviets had done to local food. In a workshop here in Riga about dialogic education, together we thought about the Four Truths and the 1991 barricades, showing personal truths and also understandings about the challenge, still, of reconciliation.

But what about the now?  Museumm colleagues shared that Ukraine's experience taught them that they were entirely unprepared for the threat of war--emergency plans were about floods or fire, much as they are in the United States.  New plans and regular drills are now a part of everyone's life at their museum.  I'm old enough that it reminded me somehow of all of the drills done in my school during the Cold War.

But it's not just museum people who are concerned.  At the NEMO conference in Vilnius, Lithuania, two speakers really stood out to me.  Magnus Hort from the Swedish Psychological Defense Agency, whose purpose is to safeguard democratic society, freedom and indepence spoke about how Ukraine was a special focus--they (Sweden) was suppoeting, but now they were learning a great about countering psychological warfare from Ukrainians, countering, as he said, efforts to "keep us afraid."

Lukas Alsys, Lithuanian MInister of Culture started by telling the audience that in Lithuania, museums are the second most trusted institution after firefighters and rescue workers, but reminded us that we "cannot settle for good intentions."  He shared two lessons learned from Ukraine:

• Cultural protection must begin before a crisis.
• The continuation of culture institutions is essential to society. 

I'm so proud to know folks at Ukrainian cultural institutions that are inspiring change in other places and teaching us new ways of working.  And proud also, to get to know Baltic colleagues in the same way!

A Cornucopia of Ideas (and Objects!)

I'll try to regularly report on my museum visits here in Latvia--and I'm already behind by a few museums.  I'll catch up!  I just visited Art Museum Riga Bourse specifically to see the new exhibition, Cornucopia.  We've seen so many museums that do exhibitions that highlight rarely see objects in their collections, but this approach is so fascinating.  Even the benches had labels!

The team landed on the concept of cornucopia--"boundless material and spiritual abundance,"  with some of that abundance hidden in the horn of plenty itself, much like museum collections are hidden away. But they also go a step further to raise questions such as "What is a museum today?  What kinds of displays are created and for who?  Can anything become an exhibit?"  The idea is further developed in the label you see below (apologies for more label pictures than object pictures!).

I found just one dialogic question for visitors--but it was so lovely.  "What is the object or ritual in your everyday life in which your own understanding of abundance resides?"  I only wished there had been a place for visitors to share that reflection.  Some of the objects below--and I believe that the first one was created by the exhibit installers/designers, reflecting the layers of paintwork from previous exhibits!

For me, these fairly dense text labels were vital for me--but there were other visitors, including children, who were more interested in the wide array of objects--so I think this exhibit is a success, bringing people in in varied ways--and definitely not dumbing down content for folks, but encouraging everyone to consider who controls what in museums--something that remains a critical issue here decades after independence and separation from the Soviet Union in 1991.  I've seen this self-reflection on other museums here, and wish that more museums in the US took on such work. Whose story will be told?  And who wil tell it?   A big shout-out to Deputy Director Kristine Milere and the whole team!

And a footnote:  my deep appreciation for the clever way labels were mounted, and for wonderful English translations!

Why Latvia?

I'm almost two weeks in to my four+ month time as a Fulbright Scholar in Riga, Latvia and I am hoping to return to regular blogging to share what I'm learning and experiencing here.  So I thought I might begin with a bit about Riga and Latvia.  Latvia is one of the three Baltic countries (along with Estonia and Lithuania) on the Baltic Sea--it's pretty far north!  It's not very big--about half the size of New York State--and is fairly flat, and deeply forested.  The country has a long and complex history--centuries of German, Swedish, Polish-Lithuanian and Russian rule.  It was established as an independent republic in 1918, but then of course, the 20th century brought occupation by both the Nazis and the Soviet Union (the latter which lasted 45 years).  The country became once again, an independent republic in 1991.  Latvia's a part of the EU and NATO and support for Ukraine is notable here seen both in blue and yellow flags everywhere, but also in conversation.

Riga celebrated its 825th birthday this past August and the city itself reflects all those centuries!  Remember the Hanseatic League from Western Civ classes?  Riga was a part of this trading network.  You can see medieval architecture in the old town, some of the most spectacular Art Nouveau buildings anywhere,  wooden clapboard buildings interspersed among 19th and 20th century architecture, including some Soviet blocs and the zeppelin hangars turned Central Market, and newer architecture including the mountainous National Library.  

The museum, cultural heritage and contemporary art community is vibrant, with all sorts of activities that I'll be exploring. I've already been out to the contemporary craft fair at the Ethnographic Museum and visited the Natural History Museum to see the community's display of dahlias.  

But it's complicated, of course, which is what I want to learn more about here. My interest in this part of the world goes back a long way--I'm fascinated by the way places make and remake themselves physical, emotionally and societally.  I've been lucky enough to get to know some Latvian colleagues through ICOM and the wonderful Baltic Museology School--that helped my decision to apply for a Fulbright here.  Big questions to consider:  How does 20th century history affect lives today?  How should museums address that history?  What does it mean to be Latvian or a Latvian citizen?  How can cultural organizations help build civic participation and identity?  What sorts of intangible heritage help shape that identity?  All of these questions are complicated by the residents who are non-citizens, who colonized Latvia from other Soviet republics (see label from Museum of the Occupation above.) Needless to say, the war in Ukraine has deepened concerns around Russia in every way.  Elections are in October, and I don't understand yet all the issues, but see big wall posters around the city for different parties.

Also on the learning plan?  Finding the best coffee and pastry place in the city!  Stay tuned.

Updates!

 

Just a few quick updates after a long absence...

Along with Stacey Garcia, I'll be heading to Kalmar, Sweden to facilitate the workshop Climate, Heritage, and Policy: Dialogues in Learning at Linneaus University in Kalmar. I've tacked on some extra days at the end in Copenhagen, so look forward to visiting museums there! Suggestions welcomed!

I'm also pleased to announce that I will be a U.S. Fulbright Scholar to Latvia in fall, 2026.  I'll be teaching at the Latvian Academy of Culture as well as doing workshops and other projects with colleagues there.  The city of Riga and the country of Latvia are fascinating places and I know it will be a time of great learning for me.

More to come on both!  Not the least of which Sweden, Denmark and Latvia all seem to have incredible cafes and bakeries!

Braver Together: Join Us to Build Our Collective Strength

“Relationships grow out of the realization of mutual benefit, the creation of shared value, and the commitment to a shared future." Marshall Ganz

I've recently written three blog posts about brave museums (here, here, and here) and I've had many conversations lately about how museum and cultural colleagues can be braver in support of our communities--and I don't just mean braver about advocating for our own financial support.  That's vital I know, and the past few months have been shocking as IMLS, NEA, NEH, and so many other federal supports have been kicked away.  

But we have other jobs too, as community members and citizens. Sometimes it's hard to know how to support others in the most effective way possible, at a time when our own bravery seems hard. I'm lucky enough to have two incredible colleagues, Braden Paynter and Stacey Garcia-- together we've spent a great deal of time pondering how we can be helpful.  It seems clear to us that bravery is best done as a collective effort, so we've put our collective heads together from our home bases in Maine, upstate New York and California and have come up with this webinar for all of you.

Please plan to join us for 

BRAVER TOGETHER:  Strengthening Civil and Human Rights

Tuesday, June 17 · 1:30 - 3pm EDT

Strengthening civic structures and supporting civil and human rights takes bravery. Individual acts of heroism can be inspiring, but movements and consistent change are built through collective bravery. This interactive virtual session will draw on experiences from across the country and around the world to offer tools and frameworks for cultural workers to ignite bravery around themselves and be forces for positive change.  It's a pay-what-you-can event (suggested $10) with all proceeds going to the food banks in our respective communities.

What will we do?  It's an interactive webinar--we'll build our collective bravery together, with resources and lots of opportunities, in small groups and large, to ponder questions such as:

• What's bravery to you?
• How do we create a brave space with our colleagues? 
• What change do we want most at this moment? (you have to know what you’re fighting for– something that’s bigger than yourself/your institution)
• How can we turn what we have (resources) into what we need (power) to get what we want (change)?

We'll share examples from museums and cultural heritage organizations from around the world and will follow up with some useful worksheets. It's a great chance to meet and connect with colleagues, building solidarity together. Space is limited, so register now!

Brave Museums Part 3: The Legacy Museum

As I get back to regular blogging, I want to begin each one, when I can, calling out museums that are brave in challenging times.  Today, check out this New York Times article featuring a number of sites and museums dedicated to telling the full story of American life, including the story of African Americans and the legacies of enslavement.  In the article, Ashley Rogers, director of Whitney Plantation, reminds readers, “a wound doesn’t get better if you ignore it. It just festers.”

This week, thousands of museum folks are gathering for the American Alliance of Museums annual conference in Los Angeles where I'm sure so many issues about history, funding, and more will be discussed.  I miss Twitter for conference sessions and hope someone will find Threads or some other way to share for those of us not there.  Please share other brave museums you learn about!

But, on to another brave museum.  Some museums become brave, like the Valentine that I wrote about last time (and as an aside, some start as brave and become less so). But others are born brave--their very founding is a call for us to remember and to be brave about facing both past and future.  A few weeks ago I spent a day at the Legacy Museum and the National Memorial for Peace and Justice in Montgomery, Alabama.  Created by Bryan Stevenson and the Equal Justice Initiative, a non-profit law office. The goals and inspiration of the Legacy Project are described on their website: "Seeing firsthand how excessive punishment, racial discrimination, and inequality are deeply rooted in America’s history of racial injustice inspired us to create the Legacy Sites. By offering these unique spaces for people to gather, learn, and reflect on our history and its legacy, we hope to foster a new era of truth and justice in America."

No pictures are allowed in the museum and I didn't take notes, partly because of the nonstop conversations Dina Bailey and I were having along the way.  As a result, I have no pictures of label texts, so this post is more reflective of the experience overall.  As you enter, you encounter a very large video of waves, crashing forward, which served to me as both a representation of the journey of the middle passage and of the journey the exhibition would take us through.  The museum has almost no objects and in the early history,  stays away, for the most part, from the images that are so familiar.  Instead, there were hand-drawn videos (with the hands shown at work) sharing parts of the story and as well, concepts and historical facts that may be unfamiliar to many.  We didn't take time to watch the installations in the small theater spaces, but I can imagine they are equally powerful.

The label text is unsparing--when is the last time you saw the phrase "racial terrorism,"  to describe our history?  The amount of graphics with words:  runaway slave ads, legal notices, newspaper headlines, all in black and white, feels a bit overwhelming.  As we read the labels though, it struck us that this is very much an exhibit developed by folks with legal minds.  They assemble the evidence--so much evidence--and then make an impassioned argument.  The exhibit demands our attention to the evidence.

Photo:  EJI

There's also a subtle shift in perspective.  Earlier in the exhibition,  you walk on the outside of cells where you can hear re-created audio of enslaved African Americans--but you're on the outside, listening in, still at some remove.  But at the end of the exhibition, visitors can sit and listen, face-to-face with death row inmates, making sure that visitors understand that this is not history, that this is not past, and that the legacy of enslavement and racism continues forward.

Photo:  EJI

But then,  at the end of the exhibition, we entered a space that I found so beautiful and moving.  It's a very large gallery, that is floor-to-ceiling portrait images, faces only of African Americans of achievement in every field.  The space is copper/gold colored and is the place where the importance of Black imagination, passion and knowledge are made gloriously clear.  We sat in this space for quite a while, talking, but also watching people as they walked through, stopping at images they recognized or sitting like us, for a moment to take it all in.  

From there, we went to what's commonly known as the Lynching Memorial (also, by the way, the admission cost for all three legacy sites was $5 and the tickets are good forever if you don't make it to all three in a day).   There's been a great deal written about this memorial (for instance, here, here and here) and I hope all of you who can will make your way to Montgomery.  As we approached the memorial, there's a large, pristine green lawn between us and the memorial itself.  As we wound our way up the path, the large iron shapes, each delineating a county and its lynchings, come closer and closer.  And then, all of a sudden, we found ourselves looking at counties and wondering.  Wondering about the people named, wondering about all of the unknowns, wondering about why the lynchings happened when they did--sometimes a county had quite a few in a year, and then none.  We walked among these pillars, slowly making our way down the ramp until these are hanging over us, as lynching victims would have been.  You could feel the deep pressure and pain.

I particularly appreciated the way this national memorial focused on the local.  By creating this county-by-county memorial, it makes it hyper-local.  Visitors, including us, think about counties we know, or have been to.  But it also, after the memorial, let's us know that we can make change.  All of the county pillars have duplicates, lined up on the ground for counties to take home once some sort of reconciliation process has taken place.  There are still lots of them left--but then, down a bit, are versions of familiar shaped historic markers for those counties who have actually done the work, a clear message that there is much work still to be done.

"Hopelessness is the enemy of Justice."    
~ Bryan Stevenson

(thanks Paul Orselli of Exhibit Tricks for pointing me to this interview and quote that I found 

when I was writing this post)

Brave Museums Part 2: The Valentine

Before I talk about a brave museum I've visited, I wanted to shout out all those brave museum colleagues in the United States (and librarians too!) who have pushed back against the current administration's executive orders.  In particular, check out, if you haven't already:

• Lonnie Bunch's statement on the Smithsonian 
• Ashley Rogers of Whitney Plantation discussing cancellation of IMLS funds
• Japanese American National Museum statement on DEI

and of course, so many others of you--keep it up!

The Valentine Museum is in Richmond, Virginia, once the capital of the Confederacy.  It was founded in the late 19th century and its first president was sculptor Edward Valentine whose studio was relocated to the museum grounds.  Pretty straightforward, right?

Not to the talented folks who took on the task of rethinking Valentine's work, including co-curators Christina Vida and Josh Epperson. Valentine was perhaps the best-known sculptor of Confederate memorials.  An exhibit, opened in 2024, seeks to understand, not the work, but what it stood for, why it was created, and most importantly, what legacies it has left us today, to still grapple with.  The museum describes it as an "exhibition that examines how the Lost Cause myth was spread through centers of power, like media, education, politics, money, religion, and violence."   

Interestingly, like the museum I wrote about last time, there's lots of text.  Both museums seem to believe deeply that visitors are up for challenging topics, which often need lots of text. No dumbing down here!  A thoughtful three-year process involved surveys, focus groups, conversations and programming.  This serves as a reminder to all of us--it's not the length of the text, it's the quality of ideas and language.  This exhibit used tough questions to bring folks into the topic (and effective, clear yet compelling design).  For instance,

You're involved in the label conversation, you're not just a passive consumer.  They want you to consider past and present in a city where the past and present are inextricably intertwined.  Valentine's sculptures are still on show, but behind a scrim, with the sense that they are ever-present, yet perhaps receding in a city where the White House of the Confederacy is just down the street.

I've been lucky enough to work with the team twice on developing dialogic approaches for working with groups, both adults and young people as part of my role at the International Coalition of Sites of Conscience.  This is a challenging exhibition and the team has been dedicated to dialogue,  really embracing it as a tool for individual and collective learning.  Below, two pictures from a 2024 workshop and an image sharing what the group was proud of, one year later.

Two other notes on this museum:  first, there is an extensive list of resources on their website, including lesson plans for students. Second, in its permanent exhibit, the Valentine shows the statue of Jefferson Davis, covered in paint, and lain on its side. Visitors can post comments next to the statue which does inspire some strong reactions.  According to the staff, the museum's director, Bill Martin, is always willing to come down and speak with visitors about the statue, the exhibit, or anything else on their minds.   A willingness to engage with difficult issues, to work with communities to understand complex histories, to stand our ground and not obey in advance, is needed now more than ever.  Thanks to all of you who do.