Leading Creativity from Everywhere: The 30 Day Challenge

 At the AASLH meeting a month ago, I spoke at the Small Museum luncheon and at the end, asked participants to write a message to themselves, on a postcard, about what they wanted to be reminded of in the next thirty days.  One of the questions that Rainey and I often hear is "How can I be a creative leader from my position in the middle?"   These notes to your future self are great evidence of how we all, no matter where we are in the organizational chart, or how large or small our museum is, that we all can begin creative work.  Here's some of what might be happening around the country!

And my personal favorite,

Just in case you think future resolutions can't take root, here's a sketch by Lauren Silberman of Historic Londontown Museum and Gardens that she did in a workshop last March:

And here's the photo she posted this summer.  That's the museum's director, Rod Cofield, taking a bit of time to incubate.

What's your 30 day creative practice resolution?  Stymied?  Consider purchasing your very own copy of Creativity in Museum Practice.

Why Even Ask the Question if You're Not Listening?

On crime shows like Law and Order, it’s accepted wisdom that a prosecuting attorney should never ask a question of a witness that she or he doesn’t already know the answer to.  But in planning, it’s exactly the opposite.  A few weeks ago, I was asked to participate in a planning focus group, as somewhat of an outside stakeholder,  for a largish organization.  We received materials in advance including a set of four goals.  “Hmm, I thought, I guess they’re farther along in the process than I thought.  They  already have goals in place.”  I go to the meeting, sit in a room with a group of immensely talented people from various arts and humanities disciplines.  We’re introduced to the process by the organization’s outside facilitator who says, in passing, that the organization hasn’t had a strategic plan in almost ten years; but they’re required to by a source of funding support, so now they’re doing it.   I thought, “Hmmm, a bit of a red flag. As a grant reviewer, a statement like this always caused me to look hard at an application.”  The facilitator and the director talk about these focus groups, about an upcoming survey, about delivering a draft, and so on.

The conversation begins, with a note-taker taking notes projected on the screen.  As we near the end of the meeting, we’re asked to react to the four goals.  There’s a silence, and finally I say (they asked for my opinion, right?) that I thought the four goals were old-fashioned, that they sounded like they could have been written ten years ago.   There’s another silence, when I wonder whether I should have spoken up, but then all of sudden the conversation blooms, with questions and lively talk from everyone around the table:   why are goals are already in place at the start of the process?   Do these goals reflect current realities and thinking?  How can the process should be a more open one? 

Great, right?  We were asked for our opinions and perspectives and we delivered them.  I left the meeting thinking that those opinions and perspectives had been recorded, noted (I could seen them projected on the screen)  and perhaps even appreciated.  After all, it was a great, thoughtful group of people in the room.

But, a week or so later, the notes of the meeting were distributed. I’m astonished to see that the entire discussion about the goals has been deleted.  Because we were critical and questioning about the process, it feels like it was taken as a direct challenge to the organization.  Rather than think about the questions we raised, it was easier to just erase them and pretend they didn’t exist.

Every museum evaluator I’ve ever worked with has always reminded me at the beginning of the process of the essential need to embrace the data, to be ready to really listen and be prepared to make change.  That doesn’t mean making every change a focus group suggests;  but to be serious about the process and the learning that occurs.  This organization demonstrated, from start to finish in this part of the process, that these focus groups were just a dog and pony show;  that decisions had already been made.  

Think about your own work.  Are you prepared to listen to the answers, or, like those Law and Order folks, only asking the questions you know the answers to? We’re not district attorneys,  we are, at our best, explorers of arts, of life, of new ideas.  So be prepared to listen.  Otherwise, why even bother to ask the question?

Practical Dreaming: 2014 Mentorships

I'm very pleased to announce my 2014 mentees, but first a bit about the process.  Although I had fewer applications than last year, the process didn't get any easier for me.  This year I had more people further along in their career, and my final two selections reflected that.  (Don't worry, emerging museum professionals,  I may try an experience restriction next year!)  This year, all of the applicants were women and they came from four countries, including the US,  and came from history, science, and art museums;  along with a independent professional or two.  My choices were framed around two issues:  one, if I thought I could be helpful, and two, if the questions posed were also questions I was interested in exploring.

I've been touched, this year as last, by the clarity, depth, seriousness and humor of the applicants.  And this year I got a bonus!  Amanda Gustin of Vermont didn't apply for the mentorship but she shared her own answers to my questions on her blog Amblering.  What's not to love about someone who impersonates an FBI agent as a child?

I can call up a dozen memories of imaginative play as a child - once, when a cousin of mine and I were grounded and stuck up in my bedroom for an afternoon, we snuck into my father's closet, dressed up in his suits, tied together bedsheets, shimmied out the second-story window, and circled back around to the front door, where we rang the doorbell and pretended to be government agents investigating cruelty toward the children living in the house. (I believe my mother laughed in our faces and sent us back up to my room.)

But on to this year's mentees:  Catherine Charlebois, Curator, Exhibitions and Collections at the Centre d'histoire de Montreal in Montreal, Canada, and Megan Wood, who begins her new position as Associate Vice President for Education and Visitor Experience at the Historic Ford Estates in Dearborn, Michigan this coming week.  They are each in transitions.  Catherine's museum is contemplating a major move and expansion and Megan of course, is embarking on a new job with new responsibilities and challenges.   And in both cases, they felt a professional voice outside their museum, might be a really helpful thing.  So I hope that's true, and here's some of the questions we'll be considering.  

Catherine's primary interests are in oral history and in exhibition development:

• Oral history in museums. I want to discuss every aspect of it, but especially its use in exhibitions.
• How to transform a museum to a participatory museum?
• Where to look for cutting-edge museum initiatives (in all fields)?
• Creating “user-friendly” museums
• Teamwork
• Inventive and/or unusual cross-disciplinary initiatives in museums 

And for Megan, the same combination of practicality and dreaming:

• How should I build and effective department? 
• Interpretive planning and long-range exhibit planning. including interpreting a historic property (and estate really) in a really new, dynamic, and engaging manner. 

I'm looking forward to our monthly conversations--and because each of the mentees will be contributing three blog posts over the course of 2014,  I hope our conversations will ripple out into your work as well.

And a few quick follow-ups from this process:

• I'm pleased to share that Alicia Akins, my mentee, is a Spring 2014 Createquity Fellow. You'll be able to check out more of her writing over there.
• It's been really lovely to hear how many of you have embraced the idea that forming your own Gang of Five can be useful in your career.   My own Gang continues to a source of inspiration, advice, and just plain fun.  If you haven't already, subscribe to our monthly e-newsletter, Take 5 for quick takes from us on everything from passion to leadership.
• There's amazing creativity in so many of us--I could see it in all the applications.  We're interested in spreading the creativity word, so please share your creative problems and solutions with us over at our Creativity in Museum practice website.   And the problems of leadership can be solved with some creative brainpower--that's being reinforced as I read Anne Ackerson and Joan Baldwin's book, Leadership Matters. Well worth a read, no matter where you are in your career.

Surprise! My 5 Wishes for 2014

What will the new year bring?  Although at a New Year's Eve party the other night we made predictions and resolutions, serious and silly (think less,  climb more mountains, become a powerlifter were among the group's resolutions) I thought I'd just share my own five wishes for the museum field, and for my own work, for 2014.  Can wishes come true?  We'll see (perhaps with your help).

Wish #1  To be Surprised
My last museum visit of 2013 did just that.  I finally made it to the Museum of Jurassic Technology  It was, despite the fact that I knew about its approach,  surprising on many levels.  Surprise is an all-too-rare element in exhibitions these days, when much seems formulaic and overdesigned.  I'm looking to see exhibits that surprise and move me.  Got suggestions? 

Wish #2  To Connect
One of my most memorable museum experiences of 2013 was a very snowy Berlin day, with Twitter acquaintance Katrin Hieke, who made her way from Bonn to spend the day with me.  From a local history museum to the DDR Museum, from  the Jewish Museum to a walk past Checkpoint Charlie, I got the chance to learn about German museums, talk museums non-stop,  and in the process, gain a great new colleague resulting in a new project together.  I wish for more opportunities to talk with colleagues and learn about their cities and museums.  Upcoming in February are Amsterdam, Paris, Barcelona,  Rome, Florence, Istanbul and Athens, so be in touch if you're in any of those cities. (and in the US,  Philadelphia,  Albany, NY, and other locations coming up too!)

Wish #3  Creativity into Practice (particularly at the top)
Rainey Tisdale and I think of our book, Creativity in Museum Practice,  as part manifesto, part tool kit.  We both wish that 2014 brings inspired creative practice into museums everywhere.  Museum leaders need to be in the front line of this effort.  I also wish, and intend to make real, creative practice in my own work every day.

Wish #4  Standards as Creative Constraints
I think a lot about standards, having worked with AASLH and as a MAP reviewer for AAM.  I tell organizations that they need to understand standards and how to use them.  But too often, I fear that museums use standards as a crutch for not going further, for not being more imaginative.  It's easy to make a plan to address a backlog of collections, but it's far harder to make a plan to involve your community. A standard doesn't prevent you from doing something--I wish that museums think of a standards as a creative constraint to push your organization further in your overall development.

Wish #5  More Great Clients
The shameless, self-promotion wish.  Last year clients like the Harriet Beecher Stowe Center and Context Travel helped me learn so much.  Together we questioned assumptions; talked to visitors, to staff, to each other;  dreamed big dreams;  got inspired by great art, great cities, great literature (and more than a little bit of great food);  laughed, worked hard;  and together, took a risk or two,  knowing that we'd learn from success or failure.  If that sounds good,  I'd love to work with you.  Be in touch with your ideas.

 

 And finally, wish #6--as exemplified by my daughter and her cousins, above, have fun!

I'm California bound--and you can join in!

Next week, I'm very pleased to be headed to San Diego's Balboa Park to be a member of a session on employee engagement at the 2012 Smith Leadership Symposium, Organizational Innovation and the Engagement Equation,  of the Balboa Park Cultural Partnership on Friday, September 6.  A tremendous line-up of speakers, headed by Chip Conley, frequent Ted Talk speaker and hotelier;  Marianna Adams of Audience Focus, Inc; Richard Evans, who directs EmcArts' programs and strategic partnerships;  and Lori Fogarty, director and CEO of the Oakland Museum,  (and me!) will work with participants to  consider questions such as:

• How do we leverage the creativity we focus on into the way we work?
• What does engagement really mean?
• How can our workspaces encourage creative work?
• What can thoughtful metrics tell us about the synergy we seek to create?   And what do those metrics say about your organizational culture?
• How are different generations approaching workplace culture and how can a culture accommodate those differences.

There will also be case studies on organizational change,  and I know there will be lots of thoughtful conversation along the way.  But if you can't make it to San Diego--you can still participate online.  In fact,  online participants get a special session, facilitated by The Center for the Future of Museum's Elizabeth Merritt,  to bring ideas  home from the morning sessions.    I'll be blogging after the fact, and trying to squeeze in a few tweets on Friday as well.

I've watched the Balboa Park Cultural Partnership from afar for a while, and it'll be great to get a chance to see their museums and other cultural organizations close up,  and enjoy the work of a thoughtful, passionate collaborative.

To register for the symposium,  online or in person,  or for more information, visit their website here. 
And as always,  if you want to join me for a cup of coffee or a drink, in either San Diego or Los Angeles,  be in touch!

A Layer Cake? A Crown? Thinking about Museum Standards

A couple weeks ago,  I was pleased to be asked to join a day of thinking about museum standards at the American Association of Museums in Washington.  Twenty or so colleagues, from New England to Hawaii, representing museums ranging from county historical societies to the Getty Museum, along with staff from AAM,  AASLH and IMLS,  spent the day talking about AAM's Museum Assessment Program (MAP),  Accreditation, and AASLH's StEPs program for history organizations. Our goal was to focus on how we might, collectively, design a program that moves all museums forward.    I've been a MAP reviewer and now have worked extensively with the StEPs standards both in developing curricula and webinars for AASLH and in a state-wide training program in Connecticut so I was happy to join a great group of colleagues in a lively discussion.

From my perspective, it seemed as if, for a long time,  the Accreditation program was the crown jewel in our field, attainable by few,  and with benefits that were never clearly articulated.  And perhaps others held that same view,  because only a tiny (4%) percentage of US museums have attained that status.  AAM's thoughtful rethinking seems to reflect that same concern.  If we say our museums are great, that they matter, that they are worthy of public and private support--but then say, oh, only 4% of museums meet our own standards, what message does that convey?  So what do we, as a field, do?   Because, it's important to note that all these efforts come from the field, not from a governmental oversight agency.  (New York is an exception, in that the Board of Regents sets forth its own standards,  but there is no state agency that actually enforces any of those standards.)

The MAP staff posed a number of questions to the group.  What elements might be embedded in the MAP process to encourage the goal of Accreditation?  Does MAP need a report card or rating scale?  Can StEPs indicators be used as indicators for Accreditation readiness?  How can these programs best connect?  How can we propel museums up the continuum?

 The metaphors flew fast and furious.  Would a field-wide standards program build layer, upon layer, like a cake?  Or like a crown, with accreditation as the top points?  Are we building a house, with a sound foundation?  Going up a set of steps?  Is it like a board game where you need to accomplish a certain number of steps to move forward?

Despite--or perhaps because of the abundance of those metaphors, there were several important areas of agreement.  One, that the field can--and should-- to push itself harder in terms of encouraging museums of all sizes, shapes and disciplines to meet standards.  Second, that these programs will work best when we all (including other specific organizations such as the Association of Zoos and Aquariums) work together to find common ground and share information in a clear, understandable framework.  In metaphorical terms, that we move from a series of silos to an interconnected approach.   I shared my own personal hobbyhorse--that standards need to focus, not just on collections (easier to assess plans and policies there) but also need to focus on an organization's ability to connect with their audiences and communities.

I think progress in this area will result, in part, from an understanding that we, as a field, can't be all things to all people--and that individual institutions must make hard choices about their future.  I'm pleased to see several places where these conversations are happening.  

On my must-see list for two upcoming conferences are sessions that address some of these hard choices.  At the upcoming Museums in Conversation conference in Albany, on April 23 historian and exhibit developer Christopher Clarke and Gretchen Sorin, Director of the Cooperstown Graduate Program will introduce and referee a sure-to-be-lively conversation framed around the statement  “New York State’s smaller history museums would be better off if they radically reduced the size of their collections.”    At the AAM conference in Minneapolis,  on Tuesday, May 1,  Marieke Van Damme, Deputy Director for Development and Planning, Bostonian Society Old State House Museum, Boston, MA and Rainey Tisdale, Independent Curator, Roslindale, MA join Ole Winther, Head of Department, National Heritage Agency of Denmark, Copenhagen, to discuss sweeping reforms, including widespread mergers, taking place at museums in Denmark and Norway and whether such reforms would work here in the United States.

The conversation is sure to continue on many levels--but I'd like to hear your thoughts.  When Ford Bell, President of AAM,  set the stage for our meeting, he commented, (I'm paraphrasing)  "the more institutions in the excellence tent, the better for advocacy."  And that doesn't just mean advocacy for government funding, it means advocacy and connection to your community on every level, in every way.  How can we bring more organizations into the big tent of excellence?

Want to Be a Museum Director? Evidently, Be a Man

This is just a quick post that I hope stimulates an organization or individual to do considerably more research--and, I hope encourages feedback and comments.  On Facebook, I like the Art Museum Partnership as they post interesting news, including appointments of new directors at larger museums.  I realized that it seemed like almost every face that popped up in the announcement of a new director was a male;  a white male. 

And I thought really?  So I went back through their FB announcements to the beginning (mid-August of this year).  And here's what I found.  Of the 15 directors named,  only 4 were women, just 26%.  Two of those four positions were at university art museums, which may suggest a different process than a board hiring process undertaken by stand-alone museums.  Admittedly, this is a highly unscientific survey, but revealing nonetheless.

Certainly, as anyone who's ever attended a museum conference can attest, this is a field filled with women.  Why so few women museum directors?  What do we know about the make-up of boards--are they mostly male?  What is it that boards think male directors can do better?  And as a field, why don't we make more noise about this?  Funny how future of museums seems an awfully lot like the museums of the past.

What's Next?

Not long ago, a colleague told me she had spoken at a graduate museum studies program and was astonished at how many students envisioned their future as a consultant, rather than working in an institution.  That's a big change from my own graduate school career where we imagined being directors, curators and an educator or two.   I never quite imagined the path that my career has taken,  and this summer, I'm taking the opportunity to join with several other colleagues in a consideration of what's next.

The idea for a consultants' retreat came about from a conversation where I was asked, in an overall conversation about strategic planning, if I had a plan myself.  I laughed, and despite extensive work on strategic and interpretive planning, sheepishly said no.  And then I called four other museum consultants in New York State whose work I value and admire--and guess what--none of them had a plan either.   So we decided to have a little mini-retreat where we all brought our concerns, hopes and ideas to the table to get feedback and assistance from the rest of the group.

We're still working out how our time together will work. We'll do some sort of career review--both the short-term and the long term (as one participant said, "I'm big on overarching narratives).   We'll think about the work we liked best and the work we liked least--and how to generate more of the former and less of the latter.  We'll talk about if and when collaborative consulting works, and how our various frameworks for both organizing and promoting our work serve us.  We may even come out with some frameworks for individual plans.  And I'm sure that we'll have a great time reflecting, talking and laughing over food and drink.

But I want to hear from blog readers out there.  If you're a consultant, what do you wish you had time to think about?  If you want to work as a consultant, why and what do you imagine your career will be like?  And for all of you, what's the next act in your museum life?

From Conference to Change

Last week I had the honor of being the plenary speaker at a conference, The Reform of Museum Management and Marketing, in Kyiv, Ukraine, sponsored by the Anti-Crisis Humanitarian Program of the International Renaissance Foundation, the Ukrainian Center for Museum Development of the Ukraine 3000 Foundation, and the Rinat Akhmetov Foundation for the Development of Ukraine (who generously sponsored my appearance here).   I joined a group of distinguished speakers from Russia, Poland, Kazakhstan, Belarus, and of course, Ukraine itself, to consider how museums can change and adapt to the 21st century.   Attending the conference were more than 120 museum professionals from all over Ukraine.  The conference's sponsors made particular efforts to reach out to museums in the regions, rather than just in Kyiv.  It was great to see old friends and colleagues--and to meet new ones as well.

But the conference raised the same issues for me that much training in the US does.  How do we encourage museums to really embrace what they've learned, to make change and reflection a part of daily work?  Since I began coming to Ukraine two years ago,  I do see signs of change--but I also see a willingness to attend workshops (and for organizations and embassies to present workshops)  but not so much readiness to make real change in an institution.   I'm pleased that this conference opened up some conversations about creating real change in organizations.

I'm far from having any real answers to this,  but a few thoughts (and by the way, I think the same issues exist for many American museums).

Marketing is not the first step
I often think that museums think that if they just produce the latest four-color brochure or have more money to allocate for advertising,  then people will flock to their museum.  It's much harder to get the point across that your product (a word I know that will meet some resistance here in Ukraine) needs to be better--your exhibits more interesting,  your programs more engaging,  your lobby staff friendlier--BEFORE new marketing commences.

Practice, not theory
I have pretty clear ideas about the process of exhibit development--but I also know that talking about it doesn't generate the best understanding.  Museum colleagues here can see my slides of interactive, hands-on exhibits, but until people have the opportunity to actually work on a project that involves, for instance, thinking about a big idea for an exhibition, writing engaging exhibit labels, and developing a creative installation,  those theoretical new ideas just stay theory.

I think some of the next steps in Ukraine are about beginning to integrate real practice into training to follow upon theoretical experiences--and I'd love the opportunity to work with colleagues here on the practical applications.  Some of my best memories here come from the start of those practical discussions in some organizations and a real hands-on project at the National Museum of Books and Printing in 2009 where I taught staff simple paper and book-making activities that are now offered on a weekly basis.

Interested in what audiences think?  The same thing holds true.  We need to find ways to move the discussion from talking about talking to audiences to actually talking TO audiences.   Recently, in the US I did some community conversations with an organization who had been a little resistant about doing them--but afterwards, said a staff member, "I'm a convert--these were great!"  There's the old saying,

Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.

 

We need to move from giving the fish of pure information to actually providing museums with a rod, a hook and a worm,  and sitting on the bank with them as they learn to fish.  Then, I think, real learning will occur.   And the museum with its own efforts,  will sustain its community--and its community, in return, will help sustain the museum.

Change comes from the top and from the bottom

As Ludmyla Gubianuri,  director of the Bulgakov Museum here in Kyiv, said during her presentation, "if you want to have a great museum,  give people creative freedom."  Many directors everywhere guard their prerogatives closely and resist change.  For real change, systematic change, to happen in an organization, the director (and board of directors, or department heads if appropriate) need to believe in the idea of change--and learn to not be threatened by it.  I told the conference audience that I come from a family of enthusiastic learners (not scholars, perhaps, but learners) and that for us, lifelong learning in our careers and in the rest of our lives is something that gives us all great joy--I hope all directors could consider it the same.   And Ludmyla also reminded all of us that the public doesn't really care about your problems, they care about their experience at the museum.

So not matter where you are in the hierarchy,  you can think differently, in large or small ways.

Creating Knowledge Networks
One of the best results of the Dutch-funded MATRA museum training project here in Ukraine was the development of an informal network of colleagues who learned together and continue to share ideas and information.  I have always found the museum field in the US (and now, increasingly, all over the world) incredibly generous with information, ideas and support.  I think an important next step here is building these knowledge networks to share information and ideas in inexpensive ways (I'm not necessarily a fan of expensive publications in this context).

From Contest to Competency
AAM, for instance, and AASLH's Award of Merit program.  But both those programs recognize multiple winners and make the submissions and winners available to the entire field.   I wonder whether resources might be better allocated towards small improvement grants rather than prizes and at the very least, a system developed to clearly share the winning efforts and highlights best practices so others can be inspired.   And that gets back to the whole idea of sharing skills and knowledge, as above.

More posts to come about other lively discussions at the conference--but the best part for me--was, I think,  that most Ukrainian museum professionals now understand that my commitment to them and their work is a increasingly deeper one.   Who would have thought that two years ago!

Good News and Bad News or хороші і погані новини

Last week I gave a talk at a local library about my time as a Fulbright Scholar in Ukraine.  This meant I spent an afternoon wandering back through all my images and thinking about Ukraine's--and my--past, present and future.   Almost every day, I read two different Ukrainian websites and they present me with two different perspectives on life there--and the work of museums.   (For new readers--my interest in Ukraine comes from my four months there in spring 2009 as a Fulbright Scholar--blog posts from January-April give an picture of my time there).

The Kyiv Post is Ukraine's English language daily--and is filled with a regular and extensive diet of depressing news.  On just one day,  for instance, January's upcoming Presidential election fraud worries, journalists are still arrested and harasssed for their work,  and the eternal news about property development in Kyiv (the latest, a hotel near Pechersk Lavra, a monastery and national treasure, founded in 1015).   Bad news, all the way around.

But I also read the Ukrainian Museum Portal, which is updated daily with news from Ukrainian museums--and I still hear fairly regularly from my Ukrainian museum colleagues.   The portal is only in Ukrainian, so I use Google Translate to get the gist of the brief articles.  The financial situation is dire in Ukraine, so I know museums there are struggling--but--I see exciting evidence of change.  A few examples (hopefully the translations are relatively accurate):

• The Ivan Honchar Museum is establishing a sort of friends group, to relax and chat about different aspects of Ukrainian folk culture with friends and associates, in honor of the museum's 50th anniversary.
• The Museum of Volyn now has a virtual tour online and Svetlana Pougach does a great job of keeping the Bulgakov Museum's blog and website current, with beautiful photographs of events and programs.

• The Bleschunova Museum of Personal Collections in Odessa sponsored a workshop, "Creating a Museum Together"  for teachers and students.   The Chernihiv Historical Museum had a seminar focused on working with the visitor, which attracted more than 60 participants.   I believe both these workshops were developed by MATRA participants.
  
• Near Lviv,  citizens are preparing a nomination of four wooden churches as World Heritage Sites.
• The enthusiastic education staff at the Kharkiv Literary Museum and the National Museum of Art continue to develop new programs for children.   At the National Art Museum there is a special program for children during the holidays focused on graphic arts.  A special exhibit and  classes take a lively approach to art that's found everywhere--from billboards to banknotes.
  

Why the change?   Several reasons.

First, Sustained professional development.
the Dutch government, through MATRA, invested significant time and resources in a 3 year training program for museum professionals.  Through workshops, mentoring, travel to the Netherlands, and perhaps most importantly, a train the trainer program, Ukrainian museum colleagues gained knowledge, connections and a sense of the possible.    This long-term training, rather than short-term visits from Western countries,  has a far greater chance of success.

Exposure to new ideas and inspirations.
Whether it's a trip to the Netherlands or connections with colleagues on the web--there are many chances to see new ideas and approaches.   My Ukrainian colleagues who visited the US this fall came back with many ideas--"just wait til you see our museum!"  one wrote after her return.

But most importantly,  it's museum workers themselves that are the agents of change.   
As I wrote in an earlier post about community museums in America--you don't get there by hoping.   With limited financial resources, and often working within a system that doesn't reward or encourage initiative,  museum professionals all over Ukraine are beginning to make a real difference.    I'm very pleased to have the opportunity, through a renewal as a Fulbright Scholar, to return to Ukraine for another four months, beginning in March, 2010 and continue to learn, share and work with museums there.  So Ukrainian museum colleagues--please continue to keep me posted on how we can work together!

Whipped Cream and a Cherry on Top

This week brought a convergence of ideas. Yesterday, at the Mid-Atlantic Association of Museums conference, in a session on sustainability, Elizabeth Merritt of AAM's Center for the Future of Museums spoke long-distance in a session on sustainability. She spoke about a number of trends, but then encouraged us all to consider a game-changer. Some change in the future that would change everything--and she suggested that the "what if?" could be "what if there was a revolution in education?" a total change in the way we educated our citizens.

Today, Thomas Friedman's op-ed piece in the New York Times suggested just why we might want to do that. He writes:

As the Harvard University labor expert Lawrence Katz explains it: “If you think about the labor market today, the top half of the college market, those with the high-end analytical and problem-solving skills who can compete on the world market or game the financial system or deal with new government regulations, have done great. But the bottom half of the top, those engineers and programmers working on more routine tasks and not actively engaged in developing new ideas or recombining existing technologies or thinking about what new customers want, have done poorly. They’ve been much more exposed to global competitors that make them easily substitutable.”

Those at the high end of the bottom half — high school grads in construction or manufacturing — have been clobbered by global competition and immigration, added Katz. “But those who have some interpersonal skills — the salesperson who can deal with customers face to face or the home contractor who can help you redesign your kitchen without going to an architect — have done well.”

Just being an average accountant, lawyer, contractor or assembly-line worker is not the ticket it used to be. As Daniel Pink, the author of “A Whole New Mind,” puts it: In a world in which more and more average work can be done by a computer, robot or talented foreigner faster, cheaper “and just as well,” vanilla doesn’t cut it anymore. It’s all about what chocolate sauce, whipped cream and cherry you can put on top. So our schools have a doubly hard task now — not just improving reading, writing and arithmetic but entrepreneurship, innovation and creativity.

Think about it. Are you a "plain vanilla" museum worker? Or even more critically, are you responsible for a "plain vanilla" museum? What makes you plain vanilla? In my book, there's one striking factor that seems to characterize these institutions and people--a reluctance not just to think outside the box, but even to look outside the box. I'm always surprised when I talk with people who don't read museum publications, blogs, or even take the time to visit other museums. And that's not even counting all the other places we can draw inspiration and ideas from.

And one more convergence--in his talk at MAAM, AAM president mentioned that AAM has (finally, in my opinion) opened full participation to those of us who work in museums but not as staff members. I see a growing number of creative, interesting people who have chosen to work outside a single institution. Every day I use skills, knowledge and perspectives I gained in my work as a museum and service organization director. But...the opportunity to put the chocolate sauce on top...is that easier to do from my perch as a independent museum person? For me, at least, the answer is yes, but it does pose some interesting questions for the future of the field.

Photo: Macs, in Penn Yan, photo by Drew Harty

Ten Ways to be Better

I was a bit cranky in my last post about museums and change, without offering many useful suggestions. So here's a quick list of ten easy cheap (or free!) things any small history museum could do to create change in their organization.

1. Start a blog. Blogs are free, incredibly easy to set up, and provide a way for your museum to communicate with your audience on a timely basis. Don't know what to write about? Joanna Church of the Montgomery County (MD) Historical Society has a great object a week blog; and the Alice Miner Museum in tiny Chazy, NY highlights both programs and collections.
2. Change something in your permanent exhibit--anything! At the National Museum of American Art's Luce Center, you get to vote on what piece to place in a case. Let your visitors decide.
   
3. At a board meeting, take time to really walk through your museum, inside and out, and see what you could do to make it more visitor friendly.
4. Change that faded paper sign or label.
5. Make your admission free!
6. Change your open hours to suit your visitors, not your staff.
7. Think about what parts of community history aren't represented in your museum--and then go out and learn about it. Call a community elder and sit down for a conversation.
8. Turn down that unprovenanced object that duplicates something in your collections. You can say no.
9. In developing your budget for next year, squeeze one new program in, even if it means giving up one that you've always done.
10. If you don't have a strategic plan already, start one! And for all organizations, make sure that your vision and mission are not just boilerplate stored in a drawer, but inspirations that guide and shape your work.

And a bonus suggestion: ban the words, "but we've always done it that way" from your organization.

Top: Women assembled at Wheeley's Church, near Gordonton, North Carolina, to clean, 1939. Photograph by Dorothea Lange, FSA/OWI Collection, Library of Congress

Change: The Big Scary Thing on Your Museum's Doorstep

As fall begins, it still seems like the time for new projects, just as it did on those first days of school. As a result, I've spent a fair amount of time the last couple weeks talking to both boards and staff about planning, new projects, and organizational change. And, somewhat to my dismay, I've begun to wonder whether the economic climate is leading organizations, to metaphorically speaking, turn out the lights on the front porch and hide from change.

What does it mean when organizations resist change? The results are easy to identify. Your audience begins to drop; you tell me you just can't ever find any new volunteers, because everyone is too busy; you have a shrinking board because no one will volunteer; your exhibits look dated; your objects go uncataloged but you keep taking irrelevant things because you can't say no; your website is a year out-of-date; and your community walks right past your door. In short, you become less and less relevant to your community--and after all, that community is your reason for being. And then, of course, the cycle becomes self-fulfilling. Yes, no one cares about you because you don't show that you care about them.

I've discovered that this resistance to age isn't a generational one. It's certainly not all young people who embrace change; or older people who resist it. In the museum field, there's sometimes a certain conservatism combined with a sense of superiority, that really hinders us from digging down deep and finding out what our communities need and how we can make a difference.

These are critical, difficult times for many of the places where we work. Some may think that hunkering down and doing as little as possible, or doing the same old thing over and over--just because it costs less or is easier-- are the answers. But I wonder whether, after the recession recedes, if those organizations will be left high and dry as their communities look to more meaningful places to spend their time.

No particular answers in this post, but a few examples of hopeful signs from organizations I work with:

• A local historical society planning for an exhibit that explores the idea of greed in the community's early settlement. Now there's a topic that will resonate with today's visitors.
• The small staff at a another small museum spending half a day to really talk about their current exhibit and how they can improve the next one--and doing it from a visitor-centered perspective.
• The surprising comment from a retired board member in an interpretive planning session about new ways to use technology--a way I had never imagined.

I'd love to hear about organizations who are sitting down at budget time, looking at the strategic plan, and saying, "let's try one really great idea," rather than just settling for the day-to-day.
And that, I hope, will keep the goblins from your door.

Calling All Volunteers

I can't even remember how many conversations I've had about small museums and the lack of volunteers. "No one wants to volunteer," "People just won't commit," "Women are all working," and more are the common complaints.

In the past several weeks I've come across an event, a blog, and a newsletter that make me think that perhaps the problem is not with those busy non-volunteers, but in the way we connect and deal with them.

First the event. The photos in this post are from the New Kingston Film Festival, in tiny New Kingston, NY. The day-long film festival is held in a barn (bring your own blankets) and featured an eclectic group of films. But what's important is why the festival exists, according to their website,

We moved to the hamlet of New Kingston from the borough of Brooklyn in 2007. When we got here we said to each other, "this place is perfect! It's got nice people, stunning views, a post office....it's all we ever wanted!" we thought some more and then said to each other, "actually maybe there is ONE thing that New Kingston lacks...A Film Festival!"

So, these volunteers (because it's clear nobody's making any money from the festival), got to work: found films, did promotion, borrowed chairs from the church, got a restaurant to provide food, make coffee and popcorn, got a port-a-john, hung the lights, made sure the projector was working. And then, did it all again for the second year. All of these are tasks that most small museums would love volunteers to do. Why did they do it?



Next up on my volunteer notice list: A blog from the Montezuma Historical Society about their Erie Canal related archaeological dig this summer. Cheryl Longyear, town historian, created the blog about their adventures--and in a thank-you to volunteers, wrote,

What an amazing group of volunteers we had for our August 29 and 30 dig. You took volunteerism to a whole new level. We survived the weekend with heavy rain, mud, mosquitoes and lots of hard work. But wait; there's more....they even said they would come back again in two weeks to close out the three plots we worked on all weekend.

Under the expert guidance and direction of David Babson, we now are expert novices at plotting, digging, sifting, and documenting artifacts found on the Four Canals Historic site in Montezuma. As soon as available we will post details, photos and video of this amazing weekend.

Thank you, thank you, volunteers. YOU ARE THE GREATEST!!! In spite of the challenging weather conditions, I'm thrilled with the teamwork and all that was accomplished.

What made these volunteers give up a summer weekend to the mud, mosquitos and hard work?

And finally on my notice list, the newsletter of the Slate Valley Museum--and their help wanted column. It reported that several positions from the previous newsletter had been filled, including Good Hearted Lawyer, Data Dasher and Shop til You Drop Specialist. They're seeking A Versatile Cool Head, A Publications Sleuth, and a Heavy Lifter. It's been a long time since I've read a museum newsletter with a sense of humor, and these entries made me laugh out loud. But what made the museum's members respond?

So I haven't spoken with any of these volunteers, but here's my long-distance take on what made volunteerism work at all three places.

• People volunteer for things they feel passionate about. The Film Festival folks love film, and New Kingston. If there's nothing to be passionate about in your organization, you'll have a tough time finding volunteers.
• Volunteers like to make some decisions. The film festival people got to decide what films to show, not just show up to run the projector. I know not every volunteer can take on managing a project, but many can. Try not to micro-manage your volunteers.
• Volunteers like to feel they're part of something important. Those archaeology volunteers really felt like they were uncovering something meaningful about the history of their community.
• Volunteers like specific tasks. The Slate Valley Museum probably won't ask their Good Hearted Lawyer to shovel the walk (unless he moonlights as the Snowman, also needed). Every job on their list is clear and concise. How much better is that then trying to find people to sit idly at your front desk?
• Volunteers like fun. At the film festival, the organizers were obviously having fun--and the archaeology crew definitely, despite the rain, looks like they're having fun too. The Slate Museum's entertaining job descriptions help ensure that those volunteers approach their work in a spirit of fun as well.

So, lighten up, broaden your circle of friends, work as a team, and have fun!

Curiosity First

This week, several blogs (New Curator and the Center for the Future of Museums in particular) have been abuzz with discussion about whether a museum studies degree is worth it. As I read the posts, I thought about the worth of my own graduate degree and what I would look for in a new hire today. I came to the conclusion that there are some qualities, which perhaps cannot be taught, which make a good museum professional--from my own perspective. Feel free to disagree!

• First and foremost: curiosity. If you're not curious about the world around you, about what other museums are doing, about the community you work in, then I think the museum field is not for you. I've asked interviewees about the last museum they visited and received a long silence. It's a big world and more than ever, there many opportunities to learn about it. I appreciate my colleagues who have deep interests and commitments outside their work: their artmaking, choral singing, French-horn playing, gardening, dog training, perspectives enrich their work. Paired with curiosity is, almost inevitably, imagination.

• Second: ability to work as part of a team. I know there's a part of the museum world that likes to work deep in collections, on their own but I want people working with me who like to work with other people, who believe that collective minds produce better products. I still remember a colleague telling me about his stint as a very young director where, as a small staff of three, they spent one morning every week cataloging collections together--a great team-building effort.
• Third: a sense of humor. These can be jobs with problems, with difficult people, with tough budget choices and more. It's a lot easier if a staff enjoys each other.

And a couple other skills that are assets:

• Ability to develop and understand a budget. No matter what part of a museum you work in, it has a budget. Don't just shrug your shoulders and say, "oh, I'm a art or history person--I don't do numbers." Learn how those numbers are shaped and what they mean. That knowledge can be powerful.
  
• Ability to speak in public (in my head, this is always paired with the other piece of advice I got from Louis C. Jones, founder of the Cooperstown Graduate Program--which was learn how to hold your liquor at exhibit openings.) The ability to be passionate and engaging about your museum to all kinds of groups--from elementary school students to seniors--can make new audiences care about the place you work.
• Ability to be an early adapter about something. Most often this is now something on the web, but it might also be new lighting techniques, or green exhibit fabrication, or trends in education. These can be great ideas to share with colleagues. You can make your own little niche of knowledge.
  
• Have a professional network. Much of my work has been about connecting people with other people. If you come into a position with a network of contacts--and preferably not just from your graduate program, you're a significant asset. They might be contacts in the community, in your field, or just a big random network.
• Know how to write on deadline. It's great to be a good writer (and I always wish I were better), but if you're a good writer that takes forever, that's not particularly useful. And by the way, it goes without saying that understanding what deadlines mean is a very useful skill.

Do you need to go to graduate school to learn these skills? Absolutely not. Can graduate school help you refine and develop these skills: yes, for some people. Do I think the field benefits from the broadest range of perspectives and experiences? Absolutely yes.

Who's in Charge of Heroes?

Who gets decide who's a hero? Why do people become heroes--and how does a country's perspective change over time? I pondered these questions as I read a recent article in the Kyiv Post, Ukraine's best-known English language newspaper, about Ivan Mazepa and the Battle of Poltava. Tomorrow is the 300th anniversary of that battle, where Peter the Great and the Russians defeated the Swedish army in a turning point in a war with Sweden. Poltava is in Ukraine, and the meaning of that battle and of the hetman Ivan Mazepa, is a source of controversy between Ukraine and Russia today.



Ivan Mazepa, a Ukrainian hetman, or chief, allied himself with the Swedes. To Russians, he's a traitor, to today's Ukrainians, he's a hero, representing a nation's bid for independence. I was fascinated to read that the Russian Foreign Ministry warned Ukraine against glorifying Mazepa, saying, "We would like to remind the Ukrainian leadership that playing games with history, especially with a nationalistic overtone, has never led to anything good," a statement that can only seem ironic coming from the former Soviet Union. Russia's president has recently established a commission to counter what he describes as efforts to falsify history by Ukrainians and others (his own effort to play games with history perhaps).

Ukrainians argue that they have the right to decide who will be a hero in their own country, and that although their nation's history has been linked to Russia, it is an independent nation, and should make its own decisions. So to Ukrainians, Mazepa is a hero, on the 10 hrivna note, and with streets named after him.



Suffice to say, this is a discussion that will probably last another 300 years. As I read the article I thought about the hero-making process in this country. When I grew up, the lives of Frederick Douglass, Harriet Tubman and Susan B. Anthony weren't taught in schools--today, to many Americans, they are heroes. Who made them heroes? In this country, it's a hard to define process--partly official (say, a holiday for Martin Luther King), but also sometimes the long efforts of individual people. Seneca Falls, the birthplace of women's rights, was long ignored, until the efforts of a group of local women brought new attention to the site in the last few decades, leading to the National Park that exists there today.



We've come to assume that all of our heroes may have some flaws--but accept them nonetheless. For a look at one American hero, warts and all, take a look at Maira Kalman's latest installation in her gentle, beautiful views on America, "And the Pursuit of Happiness," for the New York Times about her visit to Thomas Jefferson's home, Monticello.



Top to bottom:
Ivan Mazepa
The Battle of Poltava
Harriet Tubman
Two of Maira Kalman's works for the NY Times

What I Learned in Ukraine 2: A Generalist amid Specialists

I'm a generalist--I've worked with history, art and children's museums and historic houses and sites. I've run organizations, administered grant programs, developed exhibitions, tours and school and public programs. I've done evaluation, a bit of public relations, and strategic planning. I've taught museum studies courses and professional development programs. I know, from my exhibit and program work, a bit about the history of carpet manufacturing in Amsterdam, NY; vacationing in the Catskills and the Finger Lakes; Mother Ann Lee and Jemimah Wilkinson; the history of several Maryland counties; slavery in New York; to name just a few; and now of course, a bit about many parts of Ukraine's history and culture. All of the above isn't to blow my own horn, but to reinforce the idea that I really am a generalist, interested in almost everything.

Ukraine is a nation of specialists--that extends to every aspect of society. You can't buy shampoo in the grocery store--you have to go to the store that sells beauty and paper products--and that's not the drug store. At the travel agency, you can only buy a train ticket from the train person (too bad if she's at lunch). And of course the person who stamps your official piece of paper for whatever reason, is always a different person.

At museums the same holds true. Museum workers all are trained as scholars with academic specialities within a narrow focus. They come to that specialty early in their careers and there's virtually no shifting to a different career path and little ongoing professional training. I sometimes found it hard to explain what my work was, what my business was (I found no equivalent business in Ukraine). I appreciated the depth and concentration with which many of my Ukrainian colleagues approached their work. But only in the larger institutions were there museum staffers whose jobs were to work with the public.

After I learned how to do a bit of explaining about my work, I found being a generalist pretty useful. My colleagues had many questions about American museums--from grant-writing and fundraising to pay scales to statistics. Those statistics were the hardest thing to come by--because of American museums don't operate as part of a single bureaucratic structure.



One of my most rewarding projects came as a result of my generalist nature. As I led a workshop about proposal writing, the director of the National Museum of the Book discussed how she wanted to offer workshops in papermaking for children, but they had no funds available to pay a master papermaker. I laughed and said, "You don't need a master papermaker. I can make paper!"

I think somewhat unbelievingly, Valentina Grigorievna agreed that I would come and teach her staff to make paper--and together we could do the workshop instead of seeking funds for a master. Harkening back to some long-ago programs and by doing some judicious Googling, I developed a list of supplies; Irina and I made our treks around the city to gather them, and we successfully taught the museum staff how to make paper (and to block print, bind simple books and make pop-ups). The kids loved it, and the best part was to visit the museum again, before I left, and to see the workshop that is now offered every Saturday--refined and taught by the specialists on staff.

I did appreciate the specialists--but I hope that museum leaders continue to encourage the development of new skills for their staffs, and I know that many staff members welcome the opportunity to grow and stretch their wings.

How Diverse are We?

At another Idea Lounge at AAM, Dwan Reece, Carol Enseki and Fabiana Chiu-Rinaldi moderated a thoughtful, complex discussion on diversity in the field. To all of our amazement, there has never been a survey that establishes a benchmark for diversity in the field, despite decades of conversation. And, despite those decades of conversation, we all felt that the field, particularly in terms of leadership, is not substantially more diverse than twenty years ago.

In the session, there was discussion about indicators of qualities that allow diversity to flourish in an institution:

• openness to staff learning
• willingness to learn by doing, as well as ongoing training
• a real commitment to diversity, rather than lip service
• having realistic expectations for staff
• having a diverse board which helps signal real change, and change from the inside
• supportive leadership, grounded in an understanding of diversity

At the same time, the group (all women, by the way) came up with many more questions than answers.

• Has the emergence of many new museum studies graduate programs filtered out other accessible routes into museum work?
• How does an institution think about values? Are we relevant and valuable to the community?
• How can mid-level staff keep fostering conversation about and focus on diversity?
• Is the museum field ready to have a diverse field of candidates for leadership positions?
• How can a group of people move this conversation forward in the field? (There is a Diversity in Museums Committee (DivCom) at AAM--but the link to the DivCom website is dead...hmmm.)

Think diversity doesn't have anything to do with your museum? All of the demographic trends tell us otherwise. Take a look at the Center for the Future of Museums discussion paper, Museums and Society 2034 for a look at the changing demographics of the United States, in both rural and urban areas. Have you thought about the diversity of your community? When I do strategic planning with a museum, one of the first places I suggest looking for information is the US census. It's the place to find out real information about your community--and perhaps overturn some of those long held assumptions.

It's troubling to think that progress has been slow, but heartening to talk with such a committed passionate group who made their way to a far conference location, at a very early hour.

What Makes a Good Museum Leader?

In the US, I often think about museum leadership--I've been a director and have worked with many directors. Are leaders of any organization, including museums, made or born? During my time here in Ukraine I've met a number of museum directors, and just like in the US, they run the gamut from energetic and forward-thinking to protectionist and, unlike the US, perhaps corrupt. And as always, I often reply on Anne Ackerson's blog, Leading by Design, to generate new ideas and perspectives. It's a challenge to think about leadership here--the cultural norms are very different. The other day, when I pressed a museum director about his comments, I saw many eyes widen with surprise. It's just not done. I've done my very best to be a good listener here, but in this case I felt it important to ask more questions.

Even though the Soviet Union came to an end two decades ago, the bureaucratic system remains in full force. Most museum leaders came of age before the end of the Soviet system and many still reflect those perspectives. One of the surprises to me, perhaps incredibly naively, is how unegalitarian museum workplaces often seem to be. Some museum staff do all but genuflect to their director, saying of course, whatever he wants is what they will do. I know that occurs in the US as well, but in these situations I find that talented staff are undervalued, and that directorial decisions are made, not on the basis of what is best for the organization, but what is best for the director. I also see that little supervision actually happens. Many people are left alone to do their job, but never really are encouraged to understand how their work moves the organization forward and connects to audiences.

Virtually all museums here are state-run institutions, and so, once you have a museum job, although it may pay incredibly badly, you probably have it for life. I've been surprised at the number of directors who have direct family connections to museum founders, collectors, or former directors--these jobs seem to be often hereditary.

But...and it's a big important but...I see other museums where directors are learning new skills and inspiring their staff. At one workshop, a staff member says, "we do not know how to write grants--what will we do?" and with a gentle, but firm smile, her director says, "We will learn." At another, the director, as one of her first acts, renovates staff offices to improve morale--and does her own office last. At still another, the director's passion for her subject inspires others on staff to work together to do new projects that directly connect to audiences. As I write this though, I notice that many of these inspired directors I have met are women. Not all, but many.



In a way, this connects to other parts of life I see in Ukraine. According to some measures, the life expectancy of a Ukrainian man is only 55; while for women it is (still only) 64. In one conversation, a colleague thought it was because the end of the Soviet Union was very hard on men--their roles had changed and they no longer knew what to do.

But here, women just figured out how to cope. And it's not just museums--another colleague tells me that most grassroots environmental organizations here are run by women. And it even spreads to small entrepreneurs--it's mostly women running the small kiosks that are everywhere in the city selling newspapers, cigarettes or snacks; the babushkas selling vegetables or flowers in the subways are, by definition, women. Several of my young students are married, have children, and are working towards their masters' degrees--and often hold jobs as well. Women work very hard here, and I think they develop the skills and motivation to move forward, to not spend time lamenting a time passed.

Resiliency and an ability to embrace change--maybe that's what makes a good leader.