A Baker's Dozen of Great Museum Experiences in 2016

I go to lots of museums every year. If you really want to know how many, you can check out the Google map I keep of my museum visits (museum nerdy I know). Some I go to for work, some for pleasure. Even with those ones visited for fun, I find myself pondering both the why and the how of the work we do. As I reflected about the year, I was always thinking about both the experience and the people I was with--clients, colleagues, friends or family.  This year's top ten roundup, turned into a baker's dozen, is all about the experiences.  Some of these connect to earlier posts, others were equally valued but never quite made it into the blog. I hope you enjoy them even a bit as much as I did. It's been a tough year, but there are always bright spots. I'll be curious if any of you see any common threads in what made my list. If so, please share your thoughts in the comments.

Frans Post:  Animals in Brazil, the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, the Netherlands

I love the Rijksmuseum for lots of reasons but I loved this exhibit when I saw it in November.  For seven years, beginning in 1636, artist Post was in faraway Brazil, sketching and painting flora and fauna.What made the exhibit great?  First, the drawings were discovered as part of a digitization project; second, it was a collaborative effort between an art museum and a natural history museum (see the llama above)  third, a witty, clean installation; and fourth, the exhibit encouraged deep looking and drawing. It was just fun, made more fun by seeing it with an old friend and museum-lover Irina Leonenko.

Columbus Art Museum, Columbus, Ohio

The Columbus Art Museum has made creativity the centerpiece of their work. Rainey Tisdale and I were lucky enough to get a walkthrough of their galleries with Cindy Foley, Deputy Director for Learning and Experience and we got to see a museum that embraces creativity in full flower. For instance, many museums would balk at putting a big jigsaw puzzle right in front of the work of art, as above. But these two visitors (notice, adults) were engaged in deep closing looking. They would pick up a puzzle piece, come in close to the painting, look and ponder, go back to the puzzle, talk to each other, and repeat. They spent far more time in front of this painting than they ever would have without this encouragement. In a gallery featuring American art, they're working to expand our ideas of the "American story," visitors were invited to share where their American story begins, and their vision for the future. 

Ukraine's Cultural Heritage Sector, Kyiv and L'viv, Ukraine

This fall, I returned to Ukraine with Lithuanian colleague Vaiva Lankeliene  (that's her above, with our thoughtful colleague Vasyl Rozhko, digging into data over coffee in L'viv) to assess the state of Ukraine's cultural heritage. It was incredible to have to opportunity to think deeply about not only the present but the past and the future. I found, not surprisingly, some everyday heroes who can inspire all of us as they work to shape a nation's future.

Royal Newfoundland Constabulary Headquarters Exhibit

It was something entirely new for me to do an exhibit in a police headquarters. Thinking about audiences was challenging. But that's not what made this experience memorable.  It was that I had the chance to think about community in an expanded way. The Constabulary (the oldest police force in North America) is a community unto itself, with long, proud traditions. They wanted to honor those traditions but also wanted the exhibit to reach out to the greater Newfoundland community in the same ways they connect every day with citizens. Huge credit goes to the museum committee, headed by Jim Lynch, who were willing to let talented designer Melanie Lethbridge and I put forth different ideas on both concept and design. This volunteer committee was far more willing to talk and think about risk-taking in exhibits than many museums.

Context Walk of the Uffizi 

Big crowded art museums are always tough. There are too many people, my knowledge of art history never seems quite enough, the labels are either amazingly uninformative or filled to the brim with art historical terms I don't understand. Over the last four years of working with Context Travel, I've had the chance to take some great walks in great cities and museums. Last winter, in Florence with Context staff, I was tired, had a cold, and initially thought, oh, I can skip this. I've been to the Uffizi before. But Alexandra Lawrence, a Context docent (the word the company uses for their guides) and art historian, made the Uffizi make sense to me. She put forth a clear theme for the walk, returned to it throughout, carefully selected individual works to move that forward, and had us look deeply, all the while sharing her own great enthusiasm.  The kind of museum tour we all want and rarely get.  I left feeling both renewed and smarter.

Little Museum, Dublin, Ireland

Without a doubt, the best labels I saw all year. Funny, irreverent, thoughtful, meaningful--and somehow they absolutely reflected the spirit of the city. At the same time, the labels never shied away from the political--from women's rights to the 1916 Uprising.

Juliette Gordon Low Birthplace, Savannah, GA

I'm a former Girl Scout myself but honestly, hadn't thought much about the experience in years until Lisa Junkin Lopez, director at the Juliette Gordon Low Birthplace in Savannah asked me to do some evaluation of a new visitor experience, the re-imagined Library. JGLB has a great staff, up for anything, but what made this experience really great were the girls themselves. Girls who were inspired, who wanted to change the world, who believed that they could invent and be anything.  In these challenging times, it was a great reminder that our museums can, and should, inspire all kinds of people, in all kinds of ways.  

Latvian National Museum of Art, Riga, Latvia

I arrived in Riga last January to facilitate a series of workshops. But one of the first things that happened was to get a tour of the newly renovated National Art Museum from Una Sedlience, their deputy director. In the dark late afternoon, we got to wander through this beautiful building--before the art was installed. Up grand staircases, into magnificent rooms, through up-to-date open storage waiting to receive the paintings, and then up on the roof, overlooking the historic city. A magical experience in a gorgeous city.

National History Museum of Latvia, Riga, Latvia

At a workshop on increasing visitor engagement in exhibits, we experimented in the galleries devoted to Soviet-era history. Museum colleagues were asked to develop questions, post them near objects, and then, take some time and answer a question or two. I was blown away by the quality of the questions, and fascinated by the answers. Was the education system better?  Is your memory of Soviet times really the memory of your grandparents? Is collective better than individual? A grand experiment and one I'll long remember.

American Swedish Institute, Minneapolis, MN

The Midwest Museum Association held its conference in Minneapolis this year, and a reception was held at the Swedish Institute. I've never been to a reception that was so much fun. I got to learn about outcome-based evaluation through beer tasting, ate amazing food, and participated in a crazy tour of the Turnblad Mansion. Scott Pollack, Director of Exhibitions, Collections and Programs, led us on a tour, accompanied by live music, where all of us where invited to tell a tale of the room we were in; followed by Curt Pederson, Curator of Exhibitions & Collections sharing a bit of the true story. Best of all was sitting down next to a board member who beautifully articulated a vision for the museum that's inclusive and welcoming to all.

Mystic Seaport, Mystic, CT

Rainey Tisdale and I facilitated a two-day planning session as Mystic Seaport's team was working on the first exhibition in their brand-new building. Using lots of different creative tools, the team dug deep into identifying stories that mattered. What made this great? Working with Rainey, as always (see below) and a team that really seemed to enjoy each other. Also impressive was the museum's leadership team who were full participants in the days. We found many connecting threads and now SeaChange is open and on my visit list for 2017.

  

Crosslines, Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Center, Washington, DC

If you were in DC for the AAM conference, you might have gotten to see this exhibit. It was up for what seemed like minutes, but deserved a longer stay in the Smithsonian's castle. I got to see it with colleague Andrea Jones providing us a great opportunity to dig into the work. Big ideas, challenging content, artists really interested in engaging in an incredibly broad swath of the public. This project had it all.  It reinforced my sense that long-term exhibitions may be headed the way of the dinosaur--that nimble, responsive projects are our future.

Museums and Your Whole Self, NEMA Session with Rainey Tisdale

This year's New England Museum Conference was unlike any other conference I've ever been to.  It began the day after the election.  There were tears, hugs, confusion, and more. Rainey and I had a session on the last day. Originally were going to use the election as our focus to explore how museums can connect to our whole selves, not just our learning selves. That seemed wrong--everyone was too drained.  Rainey convinced me that the right topic was kittens, yes kittens!  She was absolutely right, and those of you in the audience were great participants as together we built out our giant paper dolls with crazy ideas to connect with our playful self, our spiritual self and more. I left feeling buoyed, grateful and determined.  

I already know that 2017 will bring more great experiences, even greater challenges for all of us and more dots on my map. I'm looking forward to all the challenges and my best wishes to all of you for the same in your professional life. Be brave, take risks, have fun--put your whole self to use. For inspiration, here's advice from a young Girl Scout.

What Do Mushrooms Have to Do with Bridge-Building?

Again this semester, I'm teaching International Experiments in Community Engagement (more on that to come) for JHU's Museum Studies Program online, and as a result, thinking about community engagement is always on my radar.  I've come to think that it's too facile a term, one that we bandy around without enough deep thinking.  If you haven't read it yet, you might want to be reading Nina's Simon's new book on relevance, which I think might be a better frame than community engagement for thinking transformatively about our work.  Reading Nina's book and discussing engagement with my students, I decided that I needed to share projects that inspire me in some way, ones that connect and build bridges in our communities.

The answers to how to connect with community are different everywhere, and for every organization. So my first community take: mushrooms!  Last winter, in Riga, Latvia, I was facilitating a workshop at the Latvian National Museum of Natural History and someone happened to mention that they had a mushroom exhibit every year, with fresh mushrooms, that was incredibly popular.  It seemed such a surprising thing so I kept an eye out, and sure enough, last week on their Facebook page, there it was! Many thanks to Polina Skinke of the museum for sharing more about it, including all these photos.)

It turns out that in Latvia, mushrooms are not just a food, but an integral part of the culture. The museum event has been going on for decades (since Soviet times), as you can see from the photos, although clearly, this is a tradition that's lasted for centuries.  Says Alex Cowles, who blogs in English at Life in Riga,

Latvians are bonkers about mushrooms. It’s a national obsession. There is barely a single stretch of forest untouched by foragers come late summer and autumn. You can’t walk for longer than a minute or two in any direction without bumping into people carrying baskets and knives, wearing picking gear, complete with straw hats creeping about like Nosferatu on his day off. 

Believe it or not, mushrooming is, in fact, one of the most popular open-air pastimes among Latvians. (I guess drinking beer wasn’t one of the considerations.) It’s especially favoured among older generations, since it’s fairly low-energy, it’s free food for those with less income and many will tell you that even a poor crop will at least get you out for a walk in the forest. If you find yourself with an abundance, you can even sell them at the market for a bit of extra cash.

Sometime each September, the museum staff and some friends head out to collect mushrooms, as they have for years. But now there's a twist:  they run a Facebook contest for someone to go along on the collecting mission with the mycologist and the staff. I like that it builds community not only outside the museum, but inside as well. Creativity always flourishes when we change our view, and here's a great chance to do that.

They then return and carefully and beautifully set up all the mushrooms, all carefully identified.  Note that the pot denotes edible ones.  There are special stickers, cookies, and activities for kids.  I was amazed in the photographs at how many people, of all ages, are carefully looking at the mushrooms, taking notes, snapping photos, and, I have to imagine, having conversations with the people standing next to them.

The display builds on the museum's deep knowledge--they have mycologists who, of course, are experts, but it also honors the expert knowledge of those who come to look and share.  I imagine that it's an event that some people never miss, even though the mushrooms might be the same from year to year.

Last winter I also visited a market and ate some great local food in Riga, and I can see that a whole generation of young people are beginning to think more about local food, so I can also imagine that the museum plays a role in keeping a piece of important knowledge alive, knowledge that helps make Latvia, Latvia, not by keeping it behind glass, or published in a journal article, but by making collective, community knowledge come alive.  As Nina Simon in the Art of Relevance, writes, "Relevance is not something an institution can assign by fiat. Your work matters when it matters to people—when THEY deem it relevant, not you."

Ready for some mushrooms?  Here's a  version of the most popular recipe for mushroom soup, via a 1984 New York Times article. Enjoy!

INGREDIENTS

1 pound mushrooms

6 slices bacon

1 medium onion

1 tablespoon flour

1 cup water

¼ teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons sour cream

Wash the mushrooms, and cut into thin slices.

Dice the bacon, and fry until lightly browned in a 12-inch skillet.

Dice the onion, and add to the bacon.

Fry the mixture, stirring, until the onion is just wilted. Add the mushrooms.

Over low heat, stir with a spoon for 10 minutes.

Add flour, water and salt.

Bring water to boil, and boil for 5 minutes until the mixture has the consistency of gravy.

Add the sour cream. Stir until well blended.

Thanks, dear Latvian colleagues, for inspiring me!

Writers at Home

While I was in Latvia I got a chance to some homes of writers and artists.  I remain struck by the reverence and affection that these houses seem to occupy in the post-Soviet world--different than in the United States in some ways. I'm always trying to puzzle out why and what lessons it might provide as many historic houses are rethinking their focus and approach.

One difference, of course, is that post-Soviet countries don't have all those houses of capitalist industrialists or political figures.  There's the Tzar of course, and some big palaces, but small towns and cities don't have those historic houses of Mr. So-and-So, who founded the So-and-So Widget Company.  Those houses are tough places to find compelling stories.  But artists and writers houses have stories already, both dramatic and homely; inward and outward looking.

So there are fewer homes, but more of these memorial museums, as they are called. I wonder whether literature is valued somewhat differently in places other than the United States Does that make it possible for people to make more direct connections with writers' homes? Does that mean that our educational system is sadly missing the chance to create new generations who care about literature and historic houses?

I'm also always puzzling about the role of creativity and narrative in such places.  As it happens, some of these places I visit, like in Latvia, are the homes of people unknown to me.  But why do I still feel connected to them?  In Jurmala, I visited the newly restored home of Aspazija, a noted Latvian poet and writer.  The best of these writers' houses have a welcoming sense to them somehow, a sense that we are not paying guests, nor tourists, nor supplicants, but rather friends coming to visit (and below, I did get to visit with friends and colleagues!)

At Aspazija's house, as in other writers' houses, attention is given to the feel of the house, but also to words as in this small exhibition of her work where books are displayed and text banners appear on the ceiling.

I also appreciate houses where you too are encouraged to embrace and build your own creative spirit. These places, around the world, go beyond the idea of "memorial museum," to the idea of a memorial being a living place. At her house, there's a library/community gathering space, used on a regular basis--and as well, currently a small exhibit where young people's drawings are exhibited.

Readers, tell me about your favorite writer's house?  Is it different than other historic houses?  Why? And what can other historic houses do to enhance that spirit of creativity and a sense of welcome?

Handmade

Over the last couple weeks of travel, I’ve encountered a wide spectrum of goods (and food) defined as local, or handmade, or artisan. It’s made me think about how and why we value such things, and how differing cultures seem, to an outsider, to consider them.

In Florence, Italy, I went on a Context Travel walk featuring the artisans of Oltrarno, the neighborhood across the river from the city center. Led by passionate advocate of all things local, Luca Santiccioli, we visited a metalsmith’s tiny basement shop, hidden in a courtyard; a woman paper marbler carrying on her family’s traditions; and a father and son team of etchers. As a city Florence is popular, really popular, and so not surprisingly, there are cheap, Chinese souvenirs in so many places but the love and care these craftspeople shared with us made their works sing. My small purchases will serve as beautiful reminders. What’s the future for workshops like these in Florence? It’s hard to say, and hard to say whether future generations will embrace the work. We noticed that as we passed one bespoke cobbler, that the owner was Italian, but the workers appeared to be Asian immigrants. There was something heartening in the fact that people from everywhere can become a part of local craft traditions as they adapt, change, but still retains spirit of place.

Then I went to Latvia. Although there are tourists in Riga, even in February, it’s not like Florence. I found different craft traditions, also shaped by both history and landscape. It was surprising to me how the craft traditions and design aesthetics also appeared to shape so many aspects of life. Exhibit designs often used natural materials and had a simplicity and clarity that seemed an inheritance.

And the mittens! Latvians are great knitters and there are hundreds of different intricate patterns for mittens, distinguished by region. In one workshop, I asked small groups to develop an interpretive label for mittens based on an emotion. And those mittens generated such great emotional content. One group had the emotion angry, and wrote a label from a child’s perspective, angry about itchy mittens and unable to go outside when mittens were wet; another group had joy, and talked about the trunk full of handmade mittens made by all the women in the family and community, that was a traditional bridal gift. Another group had sorrow, and talked about a grandmother, now passed away, whose memory lived on in mittens. And skepticism? One group wrote a label about mittens’ magic powers, encouraging a bit of skepticism—and laughter--in all of us.

I got quite a surprising answer when I asked a colleague about the strength of these craft traditions. “It’s fear, I think,” she answered and I looked at her surprised.. We are so small, she continued, that I think our traditions are one of the only things we have to hang on to. Needless to say, every part of the former Soviet Union continually found its traditions under siege, but this seemed to go even beyond that, to a sense that to be Latvian meant a responsibility to continue those traditions.

So what’s next? Italy is flooded by tourists, Latvia is losing its population to opportunities in Western Europe. Two sides of the same coin, in a way, in that the future is uncertain, and that dedicated craftspeople are continuing something that’s important for all of us.

And what can each of us do? As a tourist, bring home locally made souvenirs. As a museum worker, l, seek out these traditions in your community, both the ones practiced by longtime residents and those that new community members have brought from their new places. We don’t need to be a global village of chain stores, but perhaps we can be a global village of items that connect to place and people, that last a lifetime, and that remind us of the many beautiful places around the world.

 

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Asking Great Questions

My two weeks in Latvia flew by, filled with thoughtful, passionate engaged new colleagues, 8 different workshops, loads of conversation, plus a chance to learn about the past, present, and future of this country.

I facilitated one workshop at the National History Museum about integrating visitor voices and perspectives into museums. We talked about framing different kinds of questions and how and why visitors might be interested in responding. But then we decided to put to use in a space I had visited the day before. The museum is in temporary quarters, so it's a great time to think about ways to enhance visitor engagement when they move back into their reconstructed building. Not surprisingly, the exhibitions about Soviet times provided great food for thought. Each participant was asked to write three questions: one divergent, one convegent, and one evaluative, and place them in the exhibit. I then asked the group to become visitors, to answer questions that interested them personally.

The questions and answers provided depth, texture and complications to the narrative, as you can see from the images in this post. It was the simplest of prototypes, but helped us learn which kind of questions really attracted interest, although we also wondered what kinds of questions and answers an older generation would produce. It was a powerful reminder of the importance of prototyping and how it can extend our own learning and our own perspectives. On reflection, it seemed important to both ask and answer, to be both museum and visitor. Small written dialogues began to happen among the Post-it notes, talking about a time that remains difficult conversation. Many thanks to all my colleagues that day, who embraced experimentation and risk in the search for deeper meaning.

And Lenin, once so ever-present, so all encompassing, getting the question, "Who is this?"

My thanks also go to the Baltic-American Freedom Foundation who supported my trip here, and a planning committee that made everything work tremendously!

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What am I doing in Latvia?

Late last night, I arrived in Riga, Latvia, waking up this morning to the view above from my home for the next two weeks. Building from a chance conversation I had when I stopped over here in fall, 2014, I'll be facilitating a series of workshops for colleagues here on topics that include creativity in museums, community engagement and more.

I'll write more as I go along about my partners and sponsor, but this post is just a quick reflection on how grateful I am to have these experiences. In talking about the upcoming trip with a colleague a couple weeks ago, he said, "how great! You get to go into people's offices!" And then went on to explain that what he really meant was that this experience, and my others in Ukraine, give me the rare chance to see museums not as a tourist or visitor, but to understand the challenges, the dreams, the creative successes that we might only see from the inside--from that staff office.

But even if you're not headed to Latvia--you can do the same. Try a day at work when you change offices with a co-worker. Does it shift your perspective? Do a one day job exchange with a colleague. What do you learn? Go work somewhere else for the day or take the time to go have coffee with someone in a related but not exact profession. Embrace curiosity as a key element of your work--I have, and the results have been amazing.

One goal of this two weeks is to write frequent, if brief blog updates, so stay tuned. If you're so inclined, you can also find my visual note taking on Instagram as @lindabnorris.

 

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My Bags are (almost) Packed

On September 6th, I head out for five weeks away from home, in all kinds of surprising locations, places where I expect to learn, to be challenged by new situations, to connect with old friends, to make new ones; and much, much more.  First I head to St. Petersburg and Yekaterinberg, Russia, where I'll be both presenting and doing social media for the event.  So be sure to check out the project blog, and follow me on Twitter (or the hashtag #museumspolitics) and Instagram to get the latest from conference sessions, behind the scenes tours of the Hermitage, the contemporary art exhibit Manifesta; and what I hope are conversations that really dig deep, allowing us to consider the conference theme, Museums and Politics, in the light of current events in the region. What are our responsibilities as cultural professionals and how can we, working together, take care of our cultural heritage and engage in important dialogue?

Then a few free days that, of course, include museum-going.  My friend Irina in Moscow tells me there are so many museums we can squeeze in.  Will I love the Moscow Bulgakov Museum as much as I love the Kyiv one? I've heard great things about programs and exhibits at the Tretyakov Gallery--that's on my list--and what about those new emerging museums like the Moscow Design Museum.   From Moscow, I'll head to Riga, Latvia, a European Capital of Culture this year with what look like some amazing museums. The newly opened KGB building and much more are on my list, along with a chance to appreciate one of the world's great concentrations of Art Nouveau architecture.

I wind up my visit to the region with several weeks in Ukraine. As Uncataloged readers know, this is a place very dear to me, with important friends and colleagues.  Together with several colleagues, I'll be presenting workshops on incorporating visitor voices into exhibit development so although I'll be based in Kyiv, we'll be doing lots of traveling around the country.  I'll also be learning about the Museum of Maidan project and as always, sharing perspectives on both professional and personal issues and shoehorning a couple additional presentations. The last year has been an extremely challenging one for Ukraine, to say the least, and my museum colleagues are juggling their work; their commitment to national change; and their concerns for family, friends and fellow museums.

Are you in any of these places?  As always, I'd love the chance to sit down over a cup of coffee and learn about your work.  Be in touch!