A Buyers' Guide for Museum Studies? And Two More Big Questions

Last week at the NEMA meeting, Amanda Gustin of the Vermont Historical Society facilitated a lively conversation between Cynthia Robinson, the director of the Tufts Museum Studies Program; me;  and a jam-packed room of participants,  on the Graduate School Conundrum.  Go or don't go? What kind of program?  How do I choose?  We covered lots of ground in the conversation and Amanda will be sharing the results of her informal online survey on her own blog, but I wanted to share, as many people are beginning the work on graduate school applications, the talk about a buyers' guide for museum studies programs.  It's very exciting that the public history world is embarked on such a project, but there's definitely a need for a specifically museum-focused one as well.  What would it include?

Here's the list, in no particular order, of the topics the session participants would love to see in a consumer guide to choosing a graduate program:

• Placement rate:  in museums, in full-time jobs, in other positions.  One year out, five years out and overall.  Kinds of placements: in what type of museums, in what type of positions.
• Course requirements and content
• What's the work load?
• What skills are really taught?  When was the last time the program analyzed the skills needed?
• Cost and its unfriendly associate, average amount of debt upon graduating.
• Financial aid available
• Certificate or degree; online or in person or a combination
• Evidence of faculty involvement in current museum work; ability to take courses from a range of faculty members
• What kind of networking is available?  How do current and former students make use of it?
• Diversity and gender equity among faculty and students
• Internships:  where, how often, paid or unpaid?
• What are the application criteria (i.e. should you have worked in a museum before applying?)  What kinds of career counseling is offered for incoming students, including those transitioning from other careers?

We ended up this part of the discussion talking about whose job it is to undertake such a buyers' guide.  Is it the graduate programs themselves--is there one willing to take the lead, set standards and metrics?  Is it the American Alliance of Museums?  Their newly released salary survey talks about conditions in the field--wouldn't it be useful to know more before you entered graduate school?  Who will step forward--and even more importantly, the field changes when we ask it to.  When will we start really pushing for this?

But don't forget my two big questions.  The first came before the session, over lunch with Sarah Sutton, who asked, 

Why is it, for a field that is all about free-choice and independent learning, that we have made graduate degrees a prerequisite for entry into the field?

and the second came from the session conversation,

If graduate schools are highly valued for the networks, and graduate schools, like the museum field, continue to lack diversity; doesn't using those only those networks to connect with and hire, ensure that our field continues to lack diversity?  In other words, same old, same old.

Readers, what say you?  Would a buyers guide be useful?  What should be in it?  And what other big questions do you have?

Special thanks to Amanda for putting together such a great session; and to NEMA, for such a thought-provoking overall conference.

What I Learned on My Trip--and What Community Museums Might Learn Too

It's hard to believe, but since February 25 I've visited 13 European cities, with one more to go this week. I've drunk cappuccino,  espresso, herbal tea, raki,  prosecco,  spritzers, French wine, Italian wine, Spanish wine, Turkish wine, German beer, Czech beer;  I've traveled by plane, train, boat, car, tram, metro, horse and buggy, foot and funicular;  but most of all I've had an amazing time working with Context Travel staff and docents around Europe (and even touched in Asia yesterday afternoon along the Bosphorus).

I definitely didn't write as many blog posts along the way as I had hoped, but I did visit some museums, so some posts to come, but overall the experience has been a way for me to think about what community-based museums do and how we might do it better.   Here's some things I think community museums--from big cities to villages--could do more of.

Get Walking  Context Travel is all about scholar-led walks in great cities.  But their commitment to sustainability and deep knowledge in the service of getting people out into the community is something every museum could embrace.   Why can't museums in small cities and towns offer tours that people sign up for on a regular basis?  Why do we always expect that people are going to come to our museum, rather than getting out in to the community to understand it in a physical way, rather than just visiting our museum? 

Facilitate More Conversations  On this trip I've had the chance to sit with people who grew up in West Berlin and East Berlin to talk about their childhood experiences;  to talk with ex-pats about what made them fall in love with a city and make the leap to live there;  to hear from a young woman running a spice store in Istanbul's spice market about her work (and her graduate training in upstate New York);  to get a tour of the Forum from a Roman whose family arrived there more than 500 years ago;  and to chat with lively Saudi women during a ferry crossing.  All too often in our lives, we stick to the people we know, and museums could--and should--take a leading role in bringing communities together in conversation.  Could you install conversation starters on public transportation or hung from signposts?  Like the Big Read projects, could you design a local history project designed to encourage sharing and conversation?

Go Outside Your Comfort Zone--and Help Others to Do the Same In the same way we tend to stick to the people we know,  we tend to stick the places we know.  If a place we're familiar with changes, we tend to stay away; and say, "oh,  it's just not the same when I was young."  We're nervous, even when there's no need to be.  This was particularly brought home to me this past week when Context's city manager, Ceylan Zere, walked four of us through a conservative Istanbul neighborhood.  It's definitely not on the beaten tourist path but was absolutely worth doing--a brief look at a much different world.  As community museum people, we too often live in the past, rather in the ever-changing present.   Take a walk to a neighborhood you don't normally go to;  visit a mosque or temple;  shop in a neighborhood store--and then see what ideas that brings you for your museum's exhibits or programs.

Be Nice  I learned this over and over again this trip.  Context puts a high priority on customer service and so I watched staff members bend over backwards to create amazing experiences for me and their clients. Honestly, I've never worked with a museum that cared as much about their visitors.  But that niceness extends the other way.  I had a number of dinners in Rome with Context staffer Liz Roller, who grew up in the restaurant business in Philadelphia and loves food.  Her passionate enthusiasm (way beyond just nice!) led to charming explanations from waiters and a chef or two appearing at our table to explain the dish.   Liz's passion led those waiters and chefs to be friendly and passionate as well.   Those waiters' listened to her passionate interest and responded in kind--does your museum do the same?  Do you even listen for it?

Keep Learning  I came to work with Context because they were committed to lifelong learning for not just their clients, but also for their staff and docents (for Context, docents are the scholars who lead tours).  In 40 or so workshops,  I was continually reminded of the importance of our own lifelong learning.  I gained new perspectives,  worked to sharpen my own approach as a trainer,  and all along the way, tried to keep learning.  Museums need to invest in ways for all their staff to learn more--and staff need to be more focused on their own learning.  This was top-of-mind for me as Rainey Tisdale and I have just finished a draft of our book on museums and creative practice--and that desire for learning is one key component of great creative people, creative teams, and creative museums.

Where will I go next?   Who knows--but I plan to continue learning no matter where it is.

Upcoming This Week

Just a quick post to say that I'll be busy as a bee this upcoming week, with lots on my plate at the American Association for State and Local History annual conference in Salt Lake City.   My last round (for now, perhaps) of working with a great group of field service providers and others on the StEPs curricula will be on Wednesday.  Over the last three years,  I've really enjoyed getting to know colleagues from states big (Alaska) and small (Connecticut) and hope all those connections continue.

On Thursday,  I hope you'll come find Rainey Tisdale and I from 12:00-1:30 in the South Foyer of the convention center.  At the meet-up--open to all--we'll be sharing what we've learned so far in our work on museums and creativity and then together, we'll work on a brainstorming an activity designed to help all of us find new ways to approach one of the core functions of history museums and historic sites.   Also on Thursday, I'm looking forward to learning about Conner Prairie's transformation and the many ways that history museums can use Historypin (I'm a huge fan already!).

Wake up early on Friday morning to make my session called Banish the Boring at 8:30.  It's pretty nervy to title a session that,  but I'm planning that, all of us working together,  can come up with some pretty great ways to make conference sessions--or any other kind of presentations--not boring,  but rather,  turn them into what my colleague Stuart Chase  calls the Three Bs:  brisk, bodacious and bold!   Need an inspiration?  Try Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society.    Later that day, Rainey's chairing a session with Trevor Jones of the Kentucky Historical Society and me where we hope to engage all of you in a lively conversation about whether museums need objects?  What does the 21st century hold for those things in our collections storage?  Or for those things in our community and not yet in our museums?

And finally,  another morning session on Friday,  an expansion from last year's webinar for StEPS--in an informal workshop format, we'll work on telling a good stories--and how those good stories can transform our institutions and our visitors.

As always,  I love to meet colleagues and bounce ideas around.  If you'll be at AASLH and want to meet for coffee or a quick meal,  just let me know!

Marketing is Not a Dirty Word

In a post last month about creating change,  I wrote that marketing was not the answer.  And marketing has continued in my thoughts.  Jasper Visser commented in response to that post,   "Marketing might be the first step, but then marketing in the sense of building tribes, keeping promises, not in the sense of more flyers and noise (which is not really marketing)."

And at another workshop here in Kyiv,  Vlad Pioro,  director of the Ukrainian Center for Museum Development commented, "Marketing is not a dirty word,"  as he introduced the Ukrainian version of Museum Strategy and Marketing : Designing Missions, Building Audiences, Generating Revenue and Resources by Neil, Philip and Wendy Kotler.   Marketing is particularly problematic in a post-Soviet society:  even the words consumers, marketing, branding,  all smack of capitalism (though of course the Soviets did a pretty good job at staying on message, in the broadest sense).   And although there's plenty of advertising everywhere here,  old habits die hard.

Vlad's comment came on the heels of my presentation about voluntary museum standards in which I referenced both AAM's Standards of Excellence and AASLH's StEPs program and asked my museum colleagues here to consider whether such standards would be useful for Ukrainian museums.    Among the questions and comments that ensured in an open discussion.

• But we have laws on museums here in Ukraine!
• But the laws don't work!
• Preserving collections is our only work, the most important.
• Why is that function (preserving collections) only one among many in these U.S. standards?
• We have particular issues here.
• Who would write them?  How could we agree?
• We need to change,  to look at our museums in the way that the rest of the world looks at theirs.

So how do standards and marketing connect?  Exactly in the way that Jasper reminded me--that we need to build tribes of people (and that includes the ongoing work of building professional organizations here in Ukraine) and that we need to be responsible to our audiences.  If we're opposed to marketing, we need to think about why,  to consider what that says about the values of our organizations.  If we're marketing in terms of "flyers and noise,"  we need to think about how to change that,  how to become more responsible,  not more showy.  

It may be "the government" who is responsible for museums here in Ukraine, but in fact,  the museums, their collections, and their activities belong to the Ukrainian people,  who, as in any country or culture, have a right to access, information, and even sometimes, a little fun when they visit!


Images
Top by Ky_Olsen on Flickr 
Bottom by Pawel Loj on Flickr

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!

Why Are We Conference Sheep?

 

I've been at several conferences this fall and have at least one more to go--and I'm a bit discouraged by my conference-going.  What's discouraging?  That the least interesting method of presentation is still the most prevalent.   We know that museum-goers don't want to sit and have people lecture at them--but why do we still think that's the best conference presentation format?  

It often feels as if the speaker part of a session is a sort of holding room until we can get to the part that we really want to do, which is talk--whether it's about the meaning of memorials, the concept of radical trust, the way collaborations work--whatever it is.

My least favorite sessions are those where the presenters talk about their project, not about what was learned in doing their project.  We don't need to know all about those gardens and the history of the house, I, at least, want to know about how you, just for instance, involved young people in those gardens.  As an exhibit developer and interpretive planner I find it sometimes challenging to get people deeply immersed in their subject matter to step back and think about the big picture and about how to relate their work to an audience that's not as steeped in the subject matter.

What would make me a happier session attender?

• The easiest one but the one I find often not put in use.  Have a timekeeper and be really, really, firm with presenters that go over time.
• If you're presenting a specific project from an organization or collaborative effort, ask an outsider to serve on the panel to critically comment and reflect.
• Think about your session as you might an exhibit.  Make sure it has a big idea (as per Beverly Serrell's invaluable chapter in her book Exhibit Labels).  That means your session should have a subject, verb and consequence!
• Reconsider using that Powerpoint.  But if you do, put it online afterwards.
• Think about speaking about failure.   One of my favorite training moments ever was when my colleague Christopher Clarke, as an add-on at a session for new directors, shared his 5 things he did right as a new director and 5 things he did wrong.  Failure is far more interesting to discuss than a session of mutual congratulations.
• Of course, without saying, make room for discussion.  But consider ways to have conversation throughout the session, not just jammed at the end (and a big shout-out to the presenters from the National Gallery of Art at MAAM this week who presented one of the best sessions ever--they not only talked the talk about learning they walked the walk).

And lastly, have fun!  It's serious work we do, but there's no reason we can't have fun doing it.  Museum sheep of the world, unite and rise up!  Imagine a new world of interactive conference-going.  What would you change?

History Museums as Dinosaurs: Take 2

Somewhat to my surprise,  my earlier post really hit a nerve with readers--well over a thousand hits so far.  I've appreciated the thoughtful comments that I've received both here on the blog and directly in emails.  In this post, I  share some of those comments and try to continue my own thinking on the topic.

Training Disconnects

Is there a disconnect between professionalism and these organizations? Why, after decades of training and an enormous increase in the number of museum studies programs haven't more organizations moved forward?  I think it's often too easy to blame the organizations, which in a way, is like blaming a student when he or she doesn't learn.  Perhaps it's not the student, but our teaching and training methods (and I write that having run a museum service organization for more than a decade).  I think it's worth questioning what our expectations are for local history groups and how we do training and professional development, including the graduate level training of museum professionals.   How can we, those of us who are museum professionals,  do it better?

History Museum?  Community Organization? or groan, Hysterical Society?

In his comment, David Grabitske described 3 kinds of local history museums:

1) those that have got their act together and do very well adapting to economic woes much like their larger counterparts,
2) those that have professionalized but lack the support base due to many years of unclear direction, and
3) those that operate on a shoestring that are never affected by the economy because they are too small to suffer adverse affects.   

It is category two that seem at the most risk because of unsettled stakeholder buy-in. 

 An anonymous commenter shared another perspective on how to define local history organizations.

Many small museums don't consider themselves "professional" organizations, but comprised of people who love their community and express it through the local historical society. Others do so through Scouts, arts groups, sports, Boys/Girls clubs, etc. So we're talking less about the museum field as much as we're talking about local community service, in one of its many forms.

I think that's a critical factor--and I'd argue that many organizations, saddled by a decrepit building and undocumented collections are hindered in becoming the vital, important community organization they could be,  real places of community engagement and community service.  Should they be a history club and not a collecting institution?  Perhaps.

Another historical society director wrote about the problems of public perception:

The one problem always facing us, which you did not mention - public perception of historical societies is, for all the reasons you mentioned, fairly dismal, and we need to continually face the challenge of overcoming the characterization that we are either the hysterical or the hisnorical society (a persona that, unfortunately, so many blue haired ladies and bow-tied gentlemen have worked diligently over decades to maintain in historical societies everywhere). 

Focus on Your Strengths

But there's not a single magic answer.  The solutions are different for every organization, as Suzanne Buchanan of the Hingham Historical Society eloquently wrote:

As the director of a local historical society, I find that my organization, and several similar ones nearby are bucking the trend. Yes, we’re perpetually short staffed, and lack professionalization in some areas. But we’ve found that if you join the fray and market your organization creatively, you can get a lot of folks interested in local history and its preservation. I find the most useful thing about AASLH sessions is sharing ideas that work with colleagues and learning how not to re-invent the wheel.

Each historical society has its specific local assets and drawbacks that define the parameters that one has to work within. It’s good to figure out how to capitalize on the assets and not waste time trying fix inherent weaknesses (eg. we capitalized on our location in a retail center by expanding our gift shop. My peers our more rural areas don’t bother, and work instead on events that draw large numbers of people to their large sites for picnics, outdoor events. I have found that if you focus on your strengths, you’re not left with much time to wring your hands about the future or the weaknesses you can’t fix. (And, yes, our website is very out of date, but we’re working on it.)

I look forward to continuing to think and talk about this.  I attended a session at AASLH about the Museum Different, a fascinating look at what mainstream museums can learn from tribal cultural centers that I think relates directly to many of these issues.  Blog post to come on it.

It's been terrific to hear from so many readers and so many different perspectives.  Keep those comments coming!

Front of combined Evangeline Museum and Navy store, Saint Martinville, Louisiana.

Lee, Russell, 1903-1986, photographer, Library of Congress, FSA/OWI Collection.

A Look Back and Forward

I've returned home to upstate New York, working on both getting back into my life here and reflecting on my second stint in Ukraine.   I had written when I first went about what I hoped to accomplish--see here.  And here's, in brief, what I did--some activities I planned on, and many I never imagined.

Workshops and Presentations

• In Kyiv on Cultural Tourism and Collaboration.  In advance of the Euro 2012 soccer tournament which will be held in Ukraine and Poland, these are both critical issues.
• Visitor Friendly Museums in L'viv and Kharkiv.   These workshops focused on every aspect from the visitors's perspective--from the entrance to the exhibitions.
• Project Management:  for museum managers in Crimea
• Oral History:  not so much a workshop as a facilitated conversation with a group of American Peace Corps volunteers in Crimea.
• National Ethnographic Institute:  about the general work of museums
• National Ceramic Museum in Opishne:  a reflection on my work over the past two years and the challenges facing Ukrainian museums.

Direct Work with Museums

• Did a day of interpretive planning with a lively team from the Tusten Preserve;  other work put on hold because of their intensive efforts to stop unlawful development on this historic preserve in the Carpathians.
• As follow-up to workshops,  worked on visitor-friendly issues and discussed audio and other archives for icons in L'viv,  exhibit concepts and design in Chernigiv,  live animal exhibits and traveling exhibit contracts for L'viv organizations.   Talked cultural tourism with the National Art Gallery;  participated in Slow Art Day.  From the street in, brainstormed ways to make the Literature Museum in Kharkiv more visitor-friendly.
• Meet with staff at the museum at Kyiv Polytechnic University to discuss hands-on interactives
• Continued contacts with colleagues at the Ivan Honchar Museum, the National Museum of Books and Printing, the Bulgakov Museum and the National Ceramics Museum.

Projects

• With Dutch colleague, Mariska Schrage,  we developed plans, considered venues,  and created a budget for a Ukrainian tour of Passing on the Comfort.
• With the State Museum of Toys, began work on plans for a United States traveling exhibition exploring the history and meaning of toys in the Soviet Union, based on their wonderful collection.
• Began discussions about a return to Ukraine with colleagues to conduct a program audit of Pirogovo, the outdoor museum near Kyiv.

Ongoing Training
Had great, ongoing conversations with my tremendous colleagues Anna Perekhodko and Katya Chuyeva, and Linda Knudsen McAusland,  about the issues of ongoing professional development in Ukraine.   Thanks to the Fulbright Program,  was able to provide ICOM-Ukraine Committee with a selection of professional publications in English that will be made available for loan to museum colleagues throughout Ukraine.

Oh, and,  rode trams, trolley buses, regular buses, mashrutkas, planes, trains and automobiles.  Enjoyed celebrations of Easter, Victory Day and other holidays.  Heard every variety of street music through my Kyiv window, and more music in churches,  on the streets of a tiny village, at festivals and more.   Visited a dacha and a khan's palace.  Ate borscht,  Crimean Tatar food,  salo,  home-grown potatoes, pickles and raspberries.  Posted entries here and on The Pickle Project.   Learned a bit more of Ukrainian and Russian,  but still ended up with breath mints when I asked (well, pantomined) for matches.  Made many, many new connections and friends.  Wrote three articles based on my experiences here.  Discussed politics (both US and Ukrainian); watched many street protests in my neighborhood.   Got to visit Budapest and Prague and see the transformation over the last 20 years.
Drank many, many cups of coffee and tea.

My time in Ukraine was as a Fulbright Scholar--a tremendous opportunity to have an intensive experience in another culture.   If you're interested in learning more about Fulbright opportunities, click here for the Scholar Program and click here for the Student Program.

I am often impatient and want change to happen fast-but Ukraine has taught me a bit of patience.   Change is happening despite a host of obstacles.   The most important thing I accomplished, I believe, is the planting seeds for the future.  It may take a while, but sooner or later, all those great young professionals I worked with all over the country will be museum directors or working in the Ministry of Culture. So I'll end this post with the familiar quote from Margaret Mead, "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world.  Indeed it is the only thing that ever has."

How Sticky Can A Workshop Be?

I've been thinking about professional development recently--last week I did a two day workshop for museums here in Kyiv and at the same time, I've been working with colleagues to develop new curricula modules for the American Association of State and Local History's StEPs Program.   And the same question always surfaces for me--how can I help ensure that whatever the topic, that it sticks and takes root in an organization.

We've all been to workshops or seminars where we left, filled with energy and great intentions, only to sink rapidly back to the details of everyday life only to think about that new idea or project as we shift the workshop folder from one pile to another.   And I've also seen my share of workshop regulars, who attend every workshop and never actually implement anything.  So as a trainer and presenter, and someone who cares deeply about new ideas percolating out into everyday practice, how can I make new ideas, concepts and practices stickier?   I'm sure there's an entire body of research about how to do this...but this post is based on my own experiences both in Ukraine and in the United States.  More reminders and questions than revelations.

So, some Sticky Enhancers (followed by some Unstickers):

• Building a community of learners 

With my colleague Anne Ackerson, I developed and ran the Museum Institute at Sagamore for nine years.  Each year, the institute brought a small group of museum professionals together for an intensive four day retreat at an isolated location in the Adirondacks.  The connections forged over that four days--over campfires, meals and training-- provided support as participants returned home to try and implement change.  Here in Ukraine, programs funded by MATRA Program of the Dutch government for both cultural professionals in L'viv and museum professionals throughout the country,  gave very silo-ed professions a new network of colleagues to lean on and draw from.   A post-workshop conversation last week was about beginning a museum roundtable here in Kyiv, to meet and share ideas on a regular basis.

• Meeting participants where they begin

This seems in even higher relief here in Ukraine, where outside specialists often come in for a limited term workshop, with a limited understanding of the needs and knowledge of the audience, and present materials that may or may not helpful in any way.   I felt my workshop last week went better than most I presented here last year, and that's perhaps because I had already developed some small understanding of this complicated place and issues facing museum professionals here.

• Making it fun

I'm a firm believer that fun sticks more than not-fun.   Here in Ukraine,  the straightforward lecture is perhaps still the most common method of delivering information to an audience.  So having fun in a workshop is relatively new--some view it as not serious, but I'll guarantee that it provides a memorable experience--which then can hopefully be put to work.

• Start small

I think this is important on so many levels--I've found it much easier to make an impact on 20 people in a workshop than twice that number.  But I've also found that changes are easier to implement when the workshop provides participants with the tools and encouragement to start with small changes.  It is like pushing a rock uphill to make changes at institutions, particularly when you're not the person in charge.  So I think workshops should always be clear that all change starts with a single step.

• Follow-Up

Duh.  This goes without saying, but because of time and money, never happens quite as often as we would like.  For an upcoming workshop here in Ukraine we're building in time for me to visit the museums several weeks after the workshop to work directly on implementing ways to make the museum more visitor-friendly.  This, we hope, will give participants a chance to integrate the knowledge into their own practice, and provide a subsequent opportunity to work directly on  their own museum issues.

Learning Unstickers

• Boring

Another Duh.  No matter who we are, we learn better when we're engaged by the presenter.

• No Expectations

I think if a presenter goes into a presentation without an expectation of change from his or her audience, then no change will happen.  Someone told me the other day that he had a "canned" presentation he could use.   That seems a surefire way to unstick your audience from your ideas.   I think often the Western European or American short-term presenters here come without any real expectation of creating change, just exposing colleagues here to the work of museums in other places.  A fine idea, but not one likely to create change.

• No Follow-Up, No Connections

One we've all been guilty of.  I'm increasing interested in considering how social media can help us in this regard.  Can Facebook groups,  blogs, tweets or other elements keep workshop participants in touch--with each other and presenters?   Can presenters afford to connect with each and everyone of those people they present to?   I love that Nina Simon, among many others,  consistently posts her slide presentations for not only workshop participants, but others to learn from.  A great way to continue to the learning.

• No Willingness to Change

I'm continually baffled by the people, in any country, who attend workshops with no expectation that they will learn anything new ("but we've always done it that way," they say when confronted with something new) or commit to working towards a change.  Why do those kinds of people come to professional development opportunities?

So, as a presenter or as a participant, what are your sticky enhancers and your unstickers?

Photos:  
Top, from Tiago Ribero on Flickr
Center:  Kyiv workshop participants (serious faces, but fun I believe)

Few Conversations in Museums? Really? How Come?

If you read this blog, are friends with me on Facebook, or follow me on Twitter, you know that I've been running a contest to win a free registration (worth to non-members $205) to the 2010 Museums in Conversation conference,  in Albany, NY, in April,  a joint effort of the Museum Association of New York and the Upstate History Alliance.  I invited you to submit a 150 word or LESS description of any kind of museum conversation--betweeen visitors, staff, board, volunteers--a real or imagined--conversation about anything.

Like many of you, I spend lots of time in museums--and as those who know me in person know I love to spend lots of time talking--but I also love to spend time listening, so I thought this was a great way for museum colleagues to reflect on their work in a way that really was about engaging with others, not just saying, "I love museums because...."

Imagine my astonishment when I only received a small number of entries.  I know many people knew about the opportunity--thanks to UHA and MANY,  who regularly promoted on their Facebook pages and lists,  and to those--including Bob Beatty at AASLH who retweeted it.  I know more than 500 New Yorkers took a look at my blog during the time the contest was running.

A special thanks to those who took the time to enter--stay tuned and we'll announce a winner soon.

So,  what's the deal?  I want to hear from you, my readers about why so few entries.  Tell me why you didn't enter, or if you're from somewhere else,  I'd love to hear your speculations about why so I can learn.  Nina Simon has written thoughtfully about framing the right questions for visitor participation--and perhaps my question just wasn't framed in the right way.

Here's some possibilities:

• Question framed in the wrong way?  How could it be better?
• Too hard a question requiring thought?
• Too long to write?
• Too busy?
• Have enough money and don't need funding to attend conferences? Really--we'd all love to meet you!
• Not interested in professional development?
• Never listen to museum conversations?

Tell me why!

What makes a Great Podcast?

Last week, I sat down with a group of docents at the Hyde Collection, an art museum and historic house with a tremendous collection in Glens Falls, NY.    We were working together, supported by an IMLS grant for new interpretive efforts to make plans for each of them to create a short, two minute or less podcast about a single work of art in the museum.  These are passionate docents, both committed to the museum and with an enthusiastic interest in art.  But podcasts were new to most of them.

We began by listing the things that would make, we thought, a good podcast.  It boiled down to what we called ended up calling The Four Cs:

• Conversational:  the podcast narrator was easy and fun to listen to--not jargon filled.
• Content and Context:  you actually learned some information and were able to put the work of art in a larger context.
• Connection:  the podcast narrator found a way to connect directly with you, the listener/viewer.
• Concise:  goes without saying, that the podcast needed to be direct and brief.

Then, as a group, we listened to several podcasts and rated them using a rubric based on the Four Cs, rating each area from 1-5.   We had one hands-down winner that got received 5s in every category from almost every listener.   The winner:  the Frick Collection's description of a Rembrandt self-portrait by the director of the Frick, Anne L. Poulet.   Why?  Take a listen and see what you think... Ms. Poulet drew the docents into the painting by her description that helped you look deeper and make connections to their own lives (and grumpy grandpas, perhaps).  The listeners finished feeling that not only did you understand the painting, but also the painter.  And an unexpected result:  several docents said they'd make a special effort to see the painting on their next visit to New York.

We listened to another podcast that stirred some lively discussion.  It was a podcast from the Museum of London, about an alderwood club.    According to their website, this and other podcasts were specifically designed for visitors with visual impairments, but are suitable for all visitors.   These podcasts were developed as part of the museum's social inclusion program:

Podcasts from the Past worked one day a week for 8 weeks with a small group of adults who are currently long-term unemployed, to create a series of podcasts for visually impaired visitors. The participants are a range of ages, with a rich variety of backgrounds and life stories, but came together to work as a team to realize their abilities and gain news skills and experience they can use in their futures.

The Hyde docents liked the informal tone of the speaker, and some loved the sound effects and others really disliked them--but all agreed, that if you were a young visitor, the sound effects (listen for that thwack at the end) would be memorable!

I hope this meeting had several take-aways for the docents, but I know it did for me.  I gained a handy tool to think about audio tours (and perhaps those Four Cs would serve any label-writer well).  It also reinforced for me a process of working with docents, encouraging them to become active learners themselves in critiquing and understanding the many ways museums connect with visitors.

Photos top to bottom:
Listening to our audio tour, from nicolelikestarts photostream on Flickr
Self Portrait, Rembrandt van Rijn,  from the Frick Collection
Museum of London podcast recording session

Free Prize Inside!

The Museum Association of New York/Upstate History Alliance annual conference is, to my mind, one of the best conferences around.  It's big enough to attract a wide range of participants  and small enough to have really good conversations with people.   And of course, New York has great museums of all sizes.  This year, the conference has been framed around the idea of Museums in Conversation. Rather than sessions where people talk at you or show yet another bulleted Powerpoint list,  all the sessions are designed as conversations, with facilitators leading what are sure to be lively discussions on a wide range of topics.

But, for the second year in a row, I'll be in Ukraine as a Fulbright Scholar and hence, unable to attend this year's conference, April 11-13 in Albany, NY.  As a sponsor, however, Riverhill still receives a free conference registration (a more than $200 value for non-UHA/MANY members) Rather than let it go to waste, I decided that it should go to a deserving museum worker or aspiring worker like you.  

Here's how to win:
I want to hear about your museum conversations.  The free registration will go to the best 150 words or less description of a museum conversation reflecting both the spirit of the conference and this blog.   It can be a conversation overheard, an imagined conversation among or between staff, volunteers, board members or visitors; a conversation with or between objects;  or a real (names changed if you wish) re-counting.   Need some inspiration about stories?  They're a bit longer, but I love the tales told on The Moth.  I've put together an esteemed panel of judges:  Susie Wilkenning of Reach Advisors and the  Museum Audience Insight blog and blogger Anne Ackerson of Leading by Design will join me. 

What will we look for?  The winning entry will demonstrate a passionate commitment to museum conversation--and a sense of humor won't hurt.  Creativity, imagination, and a compelling story--think of it as an exhibit, if you will.  Images or artwork can accompany your submission if you wish.   Don't want to write?  Consider submitting a YouTube video of 2 minutes or less.

The details:
Email your submission here by February 10, 2010.   By entering,  you give me permission to use your entry on this blog, in whole or in part.  The winner will be notified no later than March 5, 2010.  That's it--not too complicated!

Opening Up

When I was director of the Upstate History Alliance, I spent time in many extended conversations about small organizations--and particularly about how to encourage small organizations to strive for best practices. And not surprisingly, my conclusion about organizations is the same conclusion that every good teacher probably comes to in a classroom--that if you're not ready to learn, you won't. For small museums and historical societies to move forward, there has to be not only a spark, but a willingness to fan that spark into a full-fledged flame of change.

Professional development should provide the spark. I think it's important to learn skills, but I think it's critical for staff and volunteers to understand the "so what" of what we do--and to understand what Stephen Weil called the shift in museums from being about something to being for somebody. Although I don't think about professional development in quite the same way now that I'm working as a consultant, it's still an important part of my work. Some days I spend with organizations where I can see they are just not quite ready to make change. They applied for a planning grant because someone told them they needed to; they think writing a plan will automatically help them get money; they have a crisis and want to fix the immediate crisis but not the larger problem; they have a million reasons why change can't happen. Those sessions are always a bit discouraging.

This fall, though, I've had a couple days with organizations where I can almost see the wheels in people's brains begin to spin as they contemplate new ideas. Last week, I did a MAP Institutional Assessment at a small museum in northern Colorado. Over a great pot-luck dinner, the board lit up with enthusiasm as they thought about the ways in which they could consider a step forward, moving from an organization whose job was to collect and catalog, to one who shared the stories that those objects represented with the community--and to find ways to invite the community into that sharing process.

Earlier this fall, at a session at Woodchuck Lodge, the home of literary naturalist John Burroughs, the board benchmarked the homes of other writers -- but then our conversation moved to ways of interpreting the house. One board member had found the novel, An Arsonist's Guide to Writers' Homes in New England (now on my own reading list) with a great quote about the meaning of a writer's things vs. a writer's words. That led us to a discussion about how to include Burroughs' words in more concrete ways--so yes, the guide could read his words; then yes, visitors could be asked to read words; then yes, we could give a card with the quotes read to each visitor to take home.

Of course, it's easy to have enthusiasm in a meeting--and the challenge then comes into putting those great conversations into practice. But that excitement of discovering new ideas is a first step that will take an organization down that creative path. And as each museum considers new board or staff members, finding ones that exhibit that spark can be a critical next step as well.

And by the way, that spark of learning holds true for me as well--so on my Colorado visit I learned a bit about elk hunting, sheep wagons with solar panels, ditches with boards of directors, saddle-making, ranching, and that Thursday is Burrito Day at the Hi-Way Bar (pretty good ones, as it happens!)

Smithsonian Follow-Up #2

Thanks to Dana Greil at the Smithsonian Museum of American History for pointing me to two videos related to my post about the Greensboro Lunch Counter. The first (above) shows a bit of the program and museum staff discussing the presentation; the second (below) shows the presentation in its entirety--something I wasn't able to see, so was thrilled to find it on YouTube. My apologies for not being able to figure out how to show the first one in a full screen--you can see the non-goofed up version here.

I particularly noticed two things: first, the use of an authentic primary source to develop the program--an actual Civil Rights training manual and second, the many ways in which the presenter uses inquiry learning to engage the audience. He'll ask questions, repeat and go back, encourage more learning and the making of connections.

As I develop tours and programs, this is one that will serve as ongoing inspiration.

Throwing Open the Doors: Visitor Friendly Museums

This past week, I visited three museums that exemplify the simple ways in which we can make our museums places for our communities. It's not about giant capital projects or fancy flat screen TVs at the entrance--it's really about the spirit of the people who work there.



The Erie Art Museum in Erie, PA is housed in a very imposing classical art museum building. They do have a big capital project for a new entrance now underway, but two doors down is a unique part of the museum. The museum operates an art and frame shop. The shop provides the museum with framing, but also does contract framing for the community. However, as the museum director, John Vanco says, "it's also a part of our educational mission," by providing guidance and resources for conservation-appropriate framing for the community. As you enter the museum or the frame shop, the people who work there just seem happy to see you. They welcomed all visitors, answered questions, and just generally made it feel like a place for everyone.

The Art Museum also has an active folk art program and folklorist Kelly Armor works extensively with a diverse local community: basketmakers from Burma, bobbin lace makers from Slovenia, blue grass musicians, Korean watercolor painters and many more. Erie has, for its size, a large number of refugees from around the world and the museum has played an active part in making Erie feel like home.



At the Lewis H. Latimer House in Flushing, Queens, director Vivian Warfield has big plans and is taking simple steps to engage her local community. Like many New York City historic houses, the house is in a very small park, but surrounded by an intimidating fence. How to cope with that? New banners are being made to hang on the fence--in English, Korean and Mandarian. And when she's at work, Vivian opens both the back and front gates, so passersby can walk through one of the only green spaces in the neighborhood. She's also taking Mandarian classes so she can work more directly with her Chinese neighbors. Latimer, an African-American inventor, has a complex, surprising story, and one that will resonate with anyone interested in technology, African-American history, or the all American story of struggling for success.



A rainy day visit to the Wyckoff Farmhouse Museum in Brooklyn reminded me that interpreters, those people on the front lines, are the people who make a visitor's experience memorable. The Wyckoff is a small (so small that the staff offices are in a nearby trailer) Dutch farmhouse in a now fully urban area. Into this tiny farmhouse, educator Shirley Brown-Alleyne and her staff squeezed four school groups at once--almost 120 students--and provided a substantive experience for all.



What made the experience compelling? Each interpreter approached the subject matter--everyday life--in their own way. Corry was a quiet storyteller--starting from the kids' own knowledge and experience. "How do we keep our food cold?" "What kind of roots do we eat?" He always kept his voice low, and rather than having a big line waiting to use the butter churn, he smoothly integrated the switch to a new student churner within ongoing conversation about spinning and weaving. Katrina used songs and full body movements to engage her students--while provided context about Brooklyn as a farming community.

Shirley told me that Ella Mae, another interpreter, would have learned all the students' names by the end of her time with them. And sure enough, she did--and had also learned which of the students, in the incredibly diverse class, were not yet English speakers and had enlisted some of their classmates to serve as translators for them, gently providing time for that to happen. Ella Mae's dramatic voice explaining ink-making and students signing an 18th century oath of allegiance, made it seem like they all felt part of a dramatic moment.

But most important, I think, is how she connected the Wyckoffs to this class of immigrant students--from Pakistan, Peru, China, Guatemala and everywhere in between. She talked about how the Wyckoffs remained Dutch and became American--just like their own experience and that of their parents. "What do Wykoffs [now a broad, sprawling family] look like? Everybody in this room." This place became not just a place for venerating Dutch ancestors, but connecting a long-ago story to the lives of those who visit.

I'm sure most of my readers have visited a museum where it felt like visitors were either an intrusion or just cash cows. It's a tough time for museums, no doubt, but it's a tough time for lots of people. As I think about which museums will emerge from these challenging times, I'm beginning to think that it will be those museums who figure out how to do more with less--and that the more needs to be about connecting to community.

If you work in a museum, spend an afternoon working at the front desk or observing visitors to see if your museum is visitor-friendly, and what low-cost changes you can make. You might be surprised.

Top to bottom:
Students at Wyckoff House
Erie Art Museum
Latimer House
Welcoming school buses at Wyckoff House
Corry and a school group, Wyckoff House

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.

What Would You Like at a Conference?

I've been thinking a bit about last week's AAM conference--I heard some very interesting sessions and had some good conversations with friends and colleagues, and, admittedly, was a bit jet-lagged. But what else do I wish for in a conference?

• Name tags that aren't worn down by participants' waists
• A map of the conference center
• More than a token three minutes to "discuss" in sessions--and some way to follow up that conversation
  
• Not having to wear a sweater indoors when it's 80 degrees outside (hey, what about that global warming?)
• The chance to fill out session evaluations online rather than being handed paper every time
• Moderators who don't read the participant' bios
• Technology that works (thanks, AAM, it worked everywhere I was) and I loved the print handouts on demand feature
• Fewer people talking about their own projects and more people, as in the Eye on Design session, talking about what really matters to them--outside of their own work place
• Better powerpoints--fewer words, more images, less reading of words on screen
  
• More times and ways to talk, in conversation with colleagues--I see this happening at many conferences, including AAM--Idea Lounges, Dine and Whatever...how can we create more of them?
  
• Some other ways to meet new people rather standing in line for food, or one of those three minute "discuss" sessions
• Hotels that don't charge for Internet access
• As in Philadelphia, great food nearby the conference center--Reading Market is the best!

All that said, I've run conferences myself, and know how many millions of details there are. AAM's seems to run smoothly and I appreciate their willingness to try new ways of presenting. It's always easier to have opinions from the outside, but what would you like in a conference?

Above: No AAM shots--but a workshop at the National Art Gallery, Kyiv

A Productive Exchange of Experiences

I haven't written about the professional development workshops I've presented here, but they have been an important focus of my work here. I've done lots of training in my time, but have continued to learn about Ukraine, about museums and about myself throughout this process. I've done four general workshops about Learning in Museums--in Kyiv, Lviv, Zaporizha and Donetsk, with one to go in Poltava. These have been two-day workshops, usually with a large audience the first day and a smaller one the second because many people cannot take two days away.

Not surprisingly, professional development is very different here than in the US. The majority of traditional training here seems to consist of someone standing up and reading a paper, with little or no audience feedback. The theoretical is stressed here, but I am very much a practitioner. And it seems like the audiences consist of people with widely varying interests, backgrounds, job titles and expertise. So it takes me a bit of time each time to gain my footing with the audience, and it takes them a bit of time to become familiar with my significantly more informal style of discussion--but in every case there have also been several English speakers in the audience who help out as needed. I think the translators get the biggest workout during a session as there's no daydreaming and translating two ways is an enormous task for which I'm forever grateful.



At the most in a two-day workshop, I can give a broad overview of ideas and some concrete examples. I've found a quiz based on Howard Gardner's work with multiple intelligences useful, as it brings forth the idea of different kinds of learners as they learn about themselves. I've used a Power Point presentation with an ever-changing group of images to talk about interactives, visitor feedback and more. Thanks to Flickr, this includes not just work I'm familiar with, but much more--keep posting those museum visits! The sort of interactive, small group work that is so much a part of my presenting in the US hasn't really worked here, though I keep trying to find a framework and approach that will be effective.



For me, it's also very challenging to think in terms of one-time workshops. I think the most effective training happens with mentors, or a chance to begin implementing ideas and then coming back together. MATRA, a Dutch partnership here, has spent three years providing training for museum staff here, including developing Ukrainian trainers. Many of the most active learners I've seen in workshops have been either participants in MATRA or in workshops sponsored by the US-based Fund for Arts and Culture. Now, I think the next steps are really to begin to put those ideas into practice at a wide variety of organizations here, establishing best practices here for museums and making resources for learning available in Ukrainian.

The whole shift to a visitor-centered focus is perhaps the most difficult, but but important concept that I strive to convey. The priority in Soviet-era museums was what is called, "scientific work," the research part of museum work, and whether anyone ever came was hardly a concern. Staff received their salaries and all was well in museums, all of which were part of the state system. The past twenty years have brought many changes, but at many places, senior staff were trained under the old system. However, the financial crisis of the last few months is drastically affecting museums. Many had limited heat this winter, and I've heard about already underpaid staffs who do not receive paychecks (but in a contrast to museums in the US, they still come to work, hoping to receive back pay at some point).

I'd say most museum workers here believe that the government will continue to support museums and that they will be able to continue their work relatively uninterrupted. It's the only way of museum work they've ever known. However, I approach this with much more skepticism. Ukraine's financial resources are strained, and the needs of this country are many. Unless museums begin to make a better case for their place in a civil society, I fear they will become increasing irrelevant and underfunded.



Needless to say, the financial crisis has heightened interest in grant-writing and corporate sponsorship. A handout based on Sarah Brophy's Is Your Museum Grant-Ready? and a downloadable Russian language PDF on proposal-writing from the Foundation Center have been extremely helpful. As the result of a workshop on grant-writing, I've been working with a small group of museum staff here in Kyiv on writing grant proposals and two grants are almost ready for submission to sponsors--a big step!

Another finance-related hit has been a presentation on free tools on the web. Technology (or lack of access to it) is a huge issue here for museums. So understanding blogs, Flickr, YouTube and more can be a great help. Ukraine has a huge diaspora, with immigrants and their descendants around the globe, and a web presence can help bring attention to many institutions.
Thanks to all my museum colleagues who place material on blogs and in other locations--I love showing some visitor-generated YouTube video from the Brooklyn Museum.

At any given workshop, I also find myself explaining a host of other issues in response to questions. What is federalism and how does it work? How many museums are there in the US and where does their money come from? (thanks AAM and MANY for the great stats) Why is Warren Buffett giving all his money away? How does any governmental budget process work? (and why, I ask myself, do I only know about dysfunctional New York State?) What is volunteering? Who actually owns museum objects? Is Barack Obama clever? Who makes decisions about museum budgets? Is YouTube really free? What, exactly are museum boards of directors and why would you want them?

And at every workshop, I look around the room and see a few people, madly scribbling notes, taking it all in. They come up after the presentation to copy my PowerPoints onto their jump drives, they ask questions, and they're just hungry for more information and ideas. Each one of them is the reason I take a deep breath and plunge right in each time I begin.



Top to Bottom:
Poster for my workshop at the Ivan Honchar Museum, Kyiv
Workshop participants view galleries at the Donetsk Regional Art Museum
Workshop participants in Zaporizha
Brainstorming ideas for interactives in the permanent exhibit at the Khortisa National Preserve
A very cold, but very beautiful room for the workshop in Lviv