We Are Not Separate from Politics: AAM and Beyond

Attending AAM is always a whirl of competing priorities.  Which session do I go to?  Do I skip a session in favor of catching up with a colleague?  Where do I find the best fried chicken (in the case of Atlanta)  What museum do I want to make sure I see?  and most importantly, how do I make sense of it all?  What's rising to the top for me?

As I returned home and had a chance to reflect, the issue that rose to the top for me was the sense that museums are deeply involved in politics, whether we want to be or not.  I'm wondering whether this is a true change, or just the issue of the moment.  Here's just a few ways in which I saw individuals and groups, inside and outside of museums, pressuring for social change, for museums to be a stronger, more equitable part of our communities.

One of my very first stops in Atlanta was the National Center for Civil and Human Rights.  It's a place that uses museum techniques--but, except for the display of Martin Luther King documents on the ground floor, does not use objects, making extensive use of still images, audio and video.  Without a doubt, one single interaction will stay with me (and so many colleagues I spoke with) for a long time. At a reproduction lunch counter, you sat down, put on headphones, placed your hands on the handprints on the counter, closed your eyes, and were transported through an audio installation, to sitting at that lunch counter during the sit-ins.  Very simple, but with the effect of making the point that each of us have responsibility--and need the courage--to participate in social change.  

Programming and events of the week however, reminded all of us that the United States still has much work to do in terms of human rights.  I attended a session by Melanie Adams of the Missouri Historical Museum and the take-away there was the idea that being of service in your community (as the historical society has been since the events in Ferguson) wasn't something that happens overnight; but in this case, the result of more than a decade of concentrated partnership building.

#MuseumsrespondtoFerguson came up repeatedly at AAM and many thanks to my colleagues and fellow bloggers and tweeters who are keeping the conversation going.  This particular conversation got additional heft when an article on Smithsonian.com appeared, featuring this passionate quote from Lonnie Bunch, director of the National Museum of African American History and Culture:

Ferguson, Cleveland, Staten Island, North Charleston, and now Baltimore have been seared into our consciousness. Yet this violence, this loss of innocence and life is not just an issue in urban African American communities—it casts shadows on Native and Latino life; it has sparked a national conversation and a movement that challenges America to confront issues of race and fairness that have haunted this country from its inception. . . .I also know that there have been key movements in our past when events, when tragedies, when injustice has galvanized the nation and the pain has led to profound change. This may be such a momen of possibility; a moment of change. [above image is a sign acquired by the museum]

But here's a question.  Where is the Smithsonian's National Museum of American History in this conversation?  These are American issues, not just African American issues.   For more of what Baltimore museums and cultural organizations are doing in response to protests, check out this blog post from Informed Humane and for what any history organization can be doing, check out this Facebook post from the tiny Laurel Historical Society, looking back at its own history.  Honestly, when a tiny historical society is doing more meaningful, more important work than our national history museum, it's time to wonder why.

While AASLH posted a statement earlier encouraging our history museums to engage and the National Council on Public History posted a blog entry,
"The NCPH meets in Baltimore next year. We shouldn’t ignore what’s happened there this week", AAM continues a studied silence.  We should ask for more from our professional association.  In that vein, I was immensely impressed by the presentation by Sharon Heal and others from the UK Museums Association on their campaign, Museums Change Lives, with the social commitment of the project and the rigorous approach to its implementation.
We are not separate from politics.

Speaking of  changing lives, an informal group called Museum Workers Speak convened a rogue session at AAM to discuss improving working conditions & other internal practices in museums & cultural institutions.  Not surprisingly, the session drew a large and passionate audience, both in person and through social media.  Here's just a sampling:

I'm here because I'm tired of my institution not valuing their staff as the resources they are.

The more contact museum workers have with the public, the less they're paid, and vice versa. 

I am sick of working for places that have more value for their cultural resources than human resources

Let's change the idea that "organizing" is a "bad word" in museums. That may be what we need. 

I'm really impressed that the this activism is coming from, in many cases, the newest generation of museum workers.  I think those of us in different places in the field need to listen; I think graduate programs need to listen; and I think particularly, directors and boards of directors need to listen. (check out the Storify for a fuller account).  As Porchia Moore tweeted, "BRING this info BACK to YOUR MUSEUM Don't ask where to begin. Partner and collaborate. GO!!"

We are not separate from politics.

(as an offsite parallel, the Guggenheim Museum was closed down on May Day by protests against the work conditions of those working on its new site in Abu Dhabi.)

We are not separate from politics.

Also at AAM,  I had a chance to chat with folks from The Natural History Museum project in the Exhibit Hall, addressing a different kind of political issue.   An artist/environmental activist project, it aims to "cultivate a mode of inquiry that challenges museum anthropologists to engage natural history with an interest in what is left out because that is also part of our relation to nature...Natural history museums often come under pressure to betray this future, to sell it off to the highest bidder.  The Natural History Museum occupies the split in the institution, taking the side of a collective future."  (from the Natural History Museum brochure).  They've taken aim at fossil fuel industry and those who represent it, and sit on natural history museum boards.  For a fuller take on their work, read their guest post at the Center for the Future of Museums' blog.

We are not separate from politics.

There were too many other vital conversations in sessions and among colleagues to capture them all, but I want to end with a talk that happened, not at AAM, but in New York, just after I returned.  As Michelle Obama opened the new Whitney Museum, she reminded us--and the watching general public--about our responsibilities:

"There are so many kids in this country who look at places like museums and concert halls and other cultural centers, and they think to themselves, 'Well, that's not a place for me, for someone who looks like me.' " 

"I guarantee you right now there are kids living less than a mile from here who would never in a million years dream that they would be welcome in this museum. And growing up on the South Side of Chicago, I was one of those kids myself. I know the feeling of not belonging in a place like this. And today, as First Lady, I know how that feeling limits the horizons of far too many of our young people....

So what I want to ask those out there watching -- absolutely -- (applause) -- if you run a theater or a concert hall, make sure you’re setting aside some free tickets for our young people. If you run a museum, make sure that you’re reaching out to kids in struggling communities. Invite them in to see those exhibits. Can you use technology to bring those exhibits to kids in remote areas who would never, ever be exposed to art otherwise?...One visit, one performance, one touch, and who knows how you could spark a child’s imagination. "

But here's the question.  Are all these events a sea change, or just a temporary wave?  I hope that collectively they represent a change in our profession, a change in the approach to the work we do, and a sense that we no longer are just temples, but active players in the sometimes messy, always compelling life of a nation and the world.

We are not separate from politics.  We are not separate from the world.

Label? What?

I'm in L'viv, Ukraine, for a month, so many posts to come from here (and if you want to see what this beautiful city looks like, you can follow me on Instagram). but first I'm trying to catch up on some other interesting things I've seen this year.  This post goes way back to January, to visits to the Dennis Severs House and to the Museum of London's Sherlock Holmes exhibit.   Both, in their ways, are works of the imagination--creative museums at work in ways that stimulate and challenge visitors.

If you haven't been to the Dennis Sever's House, it's not like any other historic house. You have to make a reservation, for the evening.  I walked down a cobbled street, knocked on the door, and a museum staffer steps outside with his Ipad in hand, welcomes me, and sends me into the house, asking for quiet.  No guided tour, no labels.  You are free to wander in silence, with just a few other visitors, through the rooms of this 18th century house, set up as if lived in by a family of silk weavers; lit by candles, surrounded by the debris and decay of everyday life.  But it's totally made up.  Dennis Sever was an artist. His goal, says the website,  "what you imagine...is his art."  No photos, not surprisingly, so the below is from their website.  But a picture really doesn't convey the sounds, the smell, the entire experience.  It really encouraged slowing down, taking your time, wondering.

But there are labels.  And that's part of what made it really interesting to me as a museum person. Here's just a few of them I scribbled down.

"Every object in this house should be seen as part of an arrangement.  Each array tells a story..." 

"What?  You're still looking at "things" instead of what things are doing?" 

"Make no mistake...in the house it is not what you see, but what you have only just missed, and are being asked to imagine."

What would happen if we wrote labels like that?  That we trusted our visitors to go for it, in terms of what they're thinking and feeling?  If we allowed their own imaginations rather than filling their heads with facts?  There's no touching in the house (and funny it seems like people don't try to) but it is a full immersion experience.  Severs has given visitors a great gift--his imagination stimulates ours. If you're in London, go!

On that same trip, I visited the Sherlock Holmes exhibit at the Museum of London.  Holmes, of course, is a great imaginative creation, who lives on in books, movies, and television (and yes, they did have Benedict Cumberbatch's coat on exhibit).   This wasn't the work of a single imagination, but rather I suspect a clear team effort--and one where a team somehow felt spurred on by each other.  I imagine a meeting where someone says, "Let's start the exhibit with a bookcase,"  and then someone else says, "Yes, and it can be a secret bookcase,"  and someone else says, "Yes, and visitors have to enter secretly," and some exhibit designer says, "sure!"

I loved the interplay of historical fact--the London of Conan Doyle's day, that he surrounded Holmes with, and the written words from the mysteries.  I loved that certain abstractions and talents of Holmes--observation and deduction, for instance, were explored through very clear installations of objects, some of them very everyday (shoes and eyeglasses, for instance).

And of course, although I didn't take one, I loved the nod to contemporary life at the final stop (and the Sherlock-shaped shortbread in the cafe)

My takeaways?  To remember that great, creative ideas sometimes come from individuals and sometimes from collective work; and to make space for both those in exhibit development; to always remember that many exhibits need a sense of humor; to understand the power of emotions; and to keep looking out for those inspiring exhibits.  What have you seen lately that inspired you?  What has brought you out of the abyss of boring exhibits?

How About Some Delicious History? Our Annotated Dinner

I've been thinking about food and museums quite a bit lately.  An article on what museums can learn from the Pickle Project is forthcoming in Museums and Social Issues and I've just been accepted as a participant in the National Council on Public History's Working Group Public History and the Local Food Movement at the 2013 conference in Ottawa, where Cathy Stanton of Tufts University and Michelle Moon of the Peabody Essex Museum have put together a great group to explore ways in which those of us who work in public history can forge stronger connections and deepen conversations with local food producers and those who promote local and regional food.

But this past week I had a tremendous opportunity to see food history, the local food movement, and interpretation all wrapped up into one delicious package at an annotated dinner with the Context Travel staff in London.  Art historian and food scholar Janine Catalano worked with St. John,  one of the premier restaurants in London and a pioneer in reintroducing regional British cooking,  to produce a dinner that helped us understand the history of food in London, in a physical sense (St. John is right by Smithfield Market, a livestock or meat market for 800 years), an intellectual sense, a historical sense and a sense of what's new.

"But what is an annotated dinner?"  you may be thinking.  Exactly what it sounds like.  With each course (and there were many)  Janine (above)  artfully guided us through history, using historic images passed around,  brief readings from primary sources, while also helping us learn about the current state of the local food movement in Britain.

What did we eat? All delicious...

• Radishes and carrots
• Oysters and crabs--wrote Samuel Pepys in 1661, "I entertained them with talk and oysters until one o'clock and then we sat down to dinner." 
• Roast bone marrow and parsley salad
• Pigs head and potato pie--definitely the thing on the menu that sounds the strangest--but absolutely delicious! 
• Roast beef accompanied both by a reproduction of William Hogarth's 1748 painting The Gate of Calais or O, the Roast Beef of Old England and horseradish.
• Brussels sprouts greens and potatos 
• Eccles Cakes and Lancashire Cheese
• Poached Quince and Brioche

 

It struck me that this kind of interpretive effort, in a restaurant, is something that many of us who work in museums could undertake.  I think sometimes we're too often stuck in our own places,  worried about our own lack of kitchens, or what will happen in our historic house.  We were in the simplest of rooms,  with white butcher paper on the table,  so no worries about precious artifacts,  but the history--and current issues--came alive. 

In my conversations with Context docents we've been talking about using all of our senses, not just sight,  to convey the meaning and texture of a physical place.  The salty briny taste of oysters;  the slightly unctuous feel of the pig head and potato pie,  and the crispy sound of a radish bite, all made the heritage of British food come alive.

And what could be better than learning new things while gathered around a table with a group of friends?