In a Surprising Place

Sometimes you just don't know where you'll find interesting exhibits. In Peru, as we took a two day tour to the Colca Canyon, we made a stop at the Visitor Center of the Reserva Nacional Salinas y Aguada Blanca. The Reserve itself is an incredible, beautiful landscape...but one that, in a way, hides its secrets. The Visitor Center did a tremendous job at introducing the landscape and the people and animals that inhabit it, and at the same time, making us, as visitors, aware of how fragile this place is.

What made the exhibits here engaging?



It's right outside. Nothing like gaining some knowledge that you can put to immediate use as you go outdoors.



Simple (and bi-lingual) labels. From this one, I know what the swamp is good for--and I want to learn more about what those subsistence products for humans are (and I did learn later in the exhibit). And labels (below) that effectively used questions.






Simple interactives. No computer touch screens, no holograms. This works because it so clearly ties problems and solutions together.


Easy to understand. This two-sided visual (this must have a technical name) allowed visitors to see the seasons.

Most importantly, this exhibit really connected us to the survival of this unique place. In informal conversations with guides and other people, for instance, the issue of global warming isn't theoretical, it's a problem that's happening now, where they live. These thoughtful labels made us think about the future. As a tourist, it's always difficult to be both a part of the problem and a part of the solution. Tourism helps develop a region, but it also irreparably changes the landscape and the lives of the people who live there. I appreciated the reminder of a deeper responsibility.



And what's the take-away for small museums? This was not an expensive exhibit. But the thought and care that went into its development is what mattered. It wasn't just a display of objects or images. It had a story to tell, and through a real commitment to visitor engagement, did so for me.

And, as my colleague Susie Wilkenning will appreciate, for many visitors there, the bathrooms, after a long, bumpy van ride, were clean and available--a plus for any museum or visitor center!

What I've Been Reading Online

A couple items from various places:

My friend and colleague Anne Ackerson has started a new blog, Leading by Design. She's one of the most thoughtful thinkers about museums and leadership I know, and her blog will share her reflections on a wide range of issues relating to museums and organizational development.

I heard a story on NPR about Cornerstones, a project exploring the history of New Orleans through place. As they put it, less "Andrew Jackson slept here," and more "this is the last mom and pop store in the neighborhood." Their site has a registry with a map and a nomination form. A new book, already in its second printing, shares the information in a different format. Places of note: The House of Dance and Feathers, Deutches Haus, and the Sportsmen's Corner Bar.

From the Cornerstones site, I linked to The Neighborhood Story Project. Their tag line? "Our Stories Told by Us." It's a project in collaboration with the University of New Orleans and their work has already resulted in seven books and numerous programs. Those books include: (descriptions from their website)

COMING OUT THE DOOR FOR THE NINTH WARD
by Nine Times Social and Pleasure Club
Beginning with their own childhoods in the Desire Housing Project, Nine Times take the reader on a journey through their world: Motown Sound at Carver games, DJ's in the courts, and sandlot football. Written by the members during the year after Katrina, Nine Times writes about their lives, their parades, the storm, and the rebuilding process. Through interviews, photographs, and writing, Nine Times brings readers into their world of second lines, brass bands, Magee's Lounge, and the ties that bind.

BETWEEN PIETY AND DESIRE
Arlet and Sam Wylie

In their book Between Piety and Desire, brother and sister team Arlet and Sam Wylie talk about their regular and irregular life living above a neighborhood store. They interview the people who hang out on the block, weaving the history of the street through their own history living upstairs.

These New Orleans projects are great examples of what local historical societies could and should be doing. It would be nice if more local history organizations stopped trying to own a building, just because it's there, stopped collecting objects just because someone donates them, and tried harder to really document and share the history of a place.

And by the way, in my own corner (more or less) of the world, Traditional Arts of Upstate New York (TAUNY) has a Register of Very Special Places in New York State's North Country, including locations such as Clare and Carl's, home of the "michigan" hot dog and the Italian American Civic Association in Massena. Citylore, a folk arts organization in New York City partners with the Municipal Art Society for Place Matters, a project designed to uncover places that "evoke associations with history, memory, and tradition."

In all these efforts, the decisions about what to document, share and register, is made by community members, with open nomination forms, a process that opens up a community's history to everyone.

Above: New Orleans Street Scene, 1935, by Walker Evans, FSA/OWI Collection, Library of Congress

Sustainability

Sustainability--it's a much used buzz-word these days, but my trip to Peru encouraged me to think about it other ways as well. In the Andes, generations of weavers have created incredible works, using natural dyes and simple hand looms. However, that work is vanishing. So to communities, sustainability isn't a question of adequate financial support for an organization's work, it's really a question of how families and communities can both sustain traditions and, at the same time, make strides to improve education, health care, and a host of other issues.


We visited the Center for Traditional Textiles of Cusco, a non-profit dedicated to supporting the work of local weavers. The center includes a large retail store, where a large percentage of the sale of textiles goes directly to the weavers themselves, rather than a middle-man. In addition, each piece is made with natural dyes and local wool or alpaca, unlike many pieces in tourist markets with their neon colors and acrylic fibers. Each piece at the center comes with a hang tag that usually includes a picture of the weaver, along with their name, age and village. This reminded me of projects done by Native American basket makers in Maine and northern New York by the Akewsasne Museum to highlight the work of their traditional craftspeople.


The center also included a beautiful thoughtful exhibit on traditional textiles, both their manufacture and their meaning.

Poverty in the Andes is a critical issue and changes in Andean lives mean many things. We were told that few young people want to farm anymore and that they are emigrating to cities to make their fortune. It's the same story the world over. Tourism itself is a mixed blessing, bringing money into small villages but at the same time, placing stress on the environment and changing the lives of those who live there.



The mission of the Center for Traditional Textiles of Cusco is to "recapture the history of, spread information about, and stimulate the production of traditional textiles as well as to provide support and assistance to the communities of weavers with which the Center works."

As tourists, it was both a responsibility and a pleasure to purchase textiles at the center, works that will remind us of both Peru and of the challenges of sustaining a culture for years to come.



Top to bottom:
Weaving on a hand loom, Cusco, photo by Drew Harty
Weaver at the Center for Traditional Textiles, Cusco, photo by Drew Harty
Exhibit at the Center for Traditional Textiles
Elderly woman coming home from the terraced fields, Colca Valley, photo by Drew Harty
Textiles from the Center for Traditional Textiles

Why Can't Guided Tours be Optional?

I'm just back from two weeks in Peru and hope to spend a little time blogging about the time I spent there. To start, I was particularly struck by the options in ways to visit historic sites. At the Cathedral in Cusco, you could just wander on your own, you could take a tour with a guide, use an audio tour, or, just read the simple, informative, bi-lingual labels as you wandered around. At many historic sites, including Machu Picchu, the fortress at Ollantaytambo and the Monasterio Santa Catalina in Arequipa, you had the option of taking a guided tour. At some of the sites, this was clearly the way guides made their living, and you paid them. At others, they were employed by the site and your responsibility was a tip. Some wore uniforms, others did not.

Earlier this summer, I took a tour at a new historic site here in the United States and was totally turned off by the other participants on the tour. In every room, "is this original?" and a whole host of other questions that were interesting to them, but not to me. It turned a tour from what I hoped would be an evocative, memorable experience to a painful one. By making the tours optional as in Peru, it meant that you could persue your area of interest with the guide (and bore only your traveling group, not others!)

I realize that many factors may make this kind of optional tour difficult for historic sites here in the US: these were highly visited sites, so it made sense for a number of guides to be on hand; the economics of pay are very different; and it appeared that no site worked with volunteer guides.

The experiences did reinforce for me the sense that we need to allow visitors many options for their experiences. And a confession: we didn't take a tour at any of the locations, although did lurk around the edges of several tours.



Top: Monasterio Santa Catalina, Arequipa, Peru
Bottom: The view from Machu Picchu

Back to Holland

Well, not really, but finally a minute to post some photos of exhibitions in the Netherlands. These are just elements I liked--for design or for content or for both. Above, at the Amsterdam Historical Museum, a great way to combine a map and objects in a way that really draws the visitor in.


Conversation spaces: this one is at the historical museum in Devanter. It wasn't a large museum but the exhibits each had small spaces like these where you could sit, talk, and explore materials.


A focus on stories about real people. Again, at the Amsterdam Historical Museum, a circular installation that told the story of a number of Amsterdam residents, with objects, photos and, as I remember, audio installations. The second photo, a close-up view of a woman who had worked as a domestic.


Using your imagination. This may be a little hard to see, but at the Doll and Toy Museum in Devanter, this room was devoted to toys about transportation. The airplanes cast shadows on the ceiling and a little platform with binoculars provided a fun way to look up close at those objects.


Full immersion. That's Rembrandt's wife's bed, at left, and the Amstelkring, a hidden Catholic chapel from the 17th century. The opportunity to fully immerse yourself in a historic space, not bounded by ropes or guided tours made me, and I think other visitors, imagine ourselves back in time and space.


Just great design. Here, a great looking game table from the Toy and Doll Museum in Devanter.


Using a familiar item in a new way. Dollhouses--we all know what they are and how they work. Here at the Amsterdam Historical Museum dollhouses were used to show the floor plans and living situations of various public housing projects over time. A potentially not-so-interesting topic presented in a really accessible way.


And finally, connecting past with present, and at the same time, connecting with the visitor. Here, a photomural of the most Dutch of Amsterdam activities at the Amsterdam Historical Museum. And speaking of the present, how many museums do you know who also feature an installation of a coffee shop, Amsterdam style?

What great museum ideas have you seen lately?

Just a Place to Gather

I've been noticing lately conversations around the idea of museums as gathering places. In my thinking, I've often thought of this function as relating to the idea of museums as places to discuss hard issues, to talk about topics that may be hard to talk about anywhere else. But lately, it seems, that people just want a place to connect with other people. I visited the Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge, MA over the weekend. The difference between two exhibits was striking. The permanent exhibit was about Rockwell's work: the work that's so familiar to all of us. The other exhibit was contemporary political cartoons by Steve Brodner. If I hadn't seen it, I might have guessed that the buzz of conversation would be greater in the political cartoons. But instead, those rooms, though filled with people, were very quiet, while the Rockwell rooms were alive with conversation. A simple sheet provided by the museum helped families search for people in the paintings, and I heard many other people reminiscing and connecting with the images.

In the same vein, my friend Wiske Beuker in the Netherlands sent me this note about the audience for the exhibit Passing on the Comfort that I worked on:

"Around the table many old friends meet unexpectedly and people do start to tell their own stories, remembering the war and the help they got themselves or gave themselves."

The table was a last minute addition to the exhibit, but a provided a comfortable place to sit in a way that encourages conversation, has allowed visitors to share those long-ago stories of World War II.

Nina Simon, whose blog continues to be my favorite museum reading, reported on attending an IMLS conference on museums and libraries in the 21st century. Much discussion about whether museums or libraries can become "a third place," a place for conversation and engagement.

My experiences this week have made me think that this will happen through small steps: a conversation around a Dutch table about the importance of helping others in need; a mother explaining what those old bathing caps are for (yes, in a painting at the Rockwell), and in a corner of the otherwise empty educational space at the Rockwell, a mother reading a book to her son.

On the one hand, it makes me wonder why those spaces are so needed in American life. Is it just too hard to find conversation places and topics amid shopping malls, television and the web? On the other hand, it makes me realize how easy those steps can be for museums. It's those small steps--places for conversation and staff that encourages it-- that we should be encouraging and finding places for in our museums.

Top: Women workers employed as wipers in the roundhouse having lunch in their rest room, C. & N.W. R.R., Clinton, Iowa, 1943, FSA/OWI Collection, Library of Congress.

More on Not Boring Houses

Responses continue to trickle in to my various queries about historic houses. I greatly appreciate everyone who shared information, perspectives, their own visitor experiences, and requests to share what I learned. As I'm sure many of you know from your own work, attendance at historic house museums is declining, in some cases precipitously, so much so that many, including the National Trust for Historic Preservation, feel it's a time of real crisis. For some interesting reading, take a look at the Trust's Forum Journal, available partially online for a summary of a forum held last year addressing the issue.

So, although sometimes I do find historic house tours boring, the larger question for me is to further explore why our visitors (and our non-visitors) find tours boring and which historic sites have successfully engaged visitors of all types. For a visitor perspective, check out Connecticut Museum Quest, where Steve (who I don't know, except from reading his blog) is visiting all the museums and historic sites in Connecticut. Some trends have emerged: some historic sites (the Lower East Side Tenement Museum, for instance) have successfully become places of civic engagement, where real issues are revealed and discussed by visitors. Interestingly, on the Tenement Museum's website it says, "Guided Tours are the Heart of the Tenement Museum."









At other sites, such as the Anne Frank House, a powerful narrative becomes the primary way to engage visitors (through a carefully designed self-guided tour). At still other sites, the chance to fully be immersed in a historic interior or a landscape, unmediated by guides, ropes or other interpretive material is what seems to attract visitors. Kettles Yard, in England is one place that's been mentioned in this context; Great Camp Sagamore, in the Adirondacks, where you can actually stay in the historic buildings, is another. At still other places, the experience may be primarily an aesthetic one.














At still other places, I think visitors greatly appreciate the chance to find the similarities and differences between the people of the house and their own lives--and care considerably less, I think, than many museum professionals, about the differences between types of furnishings. Many historic sites have undertaken interesting projects to reveal that sense of universal human stories at a particular place. At the Davenport House in Savannah, special tours focus on a bout of yellow fever in the community; at Chateau de Mores State Park in North Dakota young people to give award-winning tours to young people. At Historic Cherry Hill, in Albany, NY, a carefully scripted and presented tour brings to life a family struggling with the loss of their place in the community. And of course, many sites have done serious, thoughtful work about interpreting slavery and connecting contemporary visitors with those stories of a particular place.

All those exciting examples aside, I think we all know of a historic house, in a community, that was saved because it was given to the historical society, or it was the richest man in town's house, or it was about to be torn down. I think it's a great challenge for those smaller historic sites, not connected to great men, women or events, to find the element--whether it's narrative, or programming, or contemporary artists reflecting on the house's history--that can really resonate with visitors and draw new visitors to those sites. And so in this project, my colleague Kristin Herron and I are looking to find those exemplary historic houses that do a great job at connecting with all types of visitors. So please keep sharing stories of your visits and your historic houses!













Top: The lake at Great Camp Sagamore, Raquette Lake, NY
Center 1: Guide outside the Lower East Side Tenement Museum, NYC
Center 2: Historic Cherry Hill, Albany, NY
Bottom: From Steve's Connecticut Museum Quest blog, and originally captioned, "Every historic house has to have...a boring dining room."