Click: National Zoo

Several weeks ago,  I spent an enjoyable few hours at the National Zoo in Washington, DC.  It had been a long time since I'd visited and I was intrigued by the level of exhibitry I found.   And as I looked,  I realized that the engineering of many of the exhibit elements was substantial--to withstand the outdoors,  repeated use by huge numbers of people, and in one case, a design for a fascinating people/animal interaction.   Here's a bit of what I saw.  First, the elephant exhibit--although we didn't see any actual elephants out that day!

 

A tilt-it, pin-ball like game about dangers in habitats that really encouraged people, even toddlers, to figure out how to work cooperatively in moving a ball through a maze.  

Giant models of dung.  Who wouldn't want to see these! 

I'm not usually a fan of lift-up tabs, but this slider design meant that you had the ability to think about 

 the two choices,  rather than just a random flip-up.  Nice design--and super sturdy.

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I found the cell phone trivia game not very exciting compared to both the animals and all the other interactive elements in this section,  but I could imagine, for certain kinds of learners, particularly a restless kid in a group with others, it might really be intriguing.

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Throughout the zoo, an emphasis on what we can do to help protect the world's wildlife.  I'd love to know if there have been studies that see whether this kind of signage and education really does encourage citizen action.

Now, on to the Think Tank, an indoor exhibit about how, why and if animals think.  There weren't many visitors inside on the sunny day I was there, and I think the exhibit probably is of greatest interest to visitors other than moms with strollers, of which there were many that day.

I loved that in the section on using tools, the designer used bright red tool chests as exhibit furniture.  And those yellow Post-its?  A design element, not real post-its,  but a great element that most visitors understand as a place to look first.  Here's a close-up.

And finally,  one of the most intriguing interactives I've ever seen.  The visitor could sit on something that looked like a rowing machine and play tug-of-war with the great apes who were on the other side of the glass--but it was totally up to the ape whether he or she wanted to play with you.  They weren't interested in playing that day,  but absolutely almost every visitor to the space wanted to try.   It was just a one-person interactive, but it made it possible for others to watch and consider and the uncertainty was a great element.

But of course, you go to the zoo to see animals.  And seeing 7 young lion cubs out to play trumped all the exhibit elements!

YES! the crowd WILL fund our project: Kickstarter Lessons #3

On February 1 at 5:00 PM,  Sarah Crow and I closed the book on our effort to fund the Pickle Project on Kickstarter.  We were amazed, humbled and thrilled to exceed our goal of $5000.  119 fabulous backers pledged a total of $5775 to make further research and documentation a reality.

I've written before here and there about some of the lessons we learned along the way but wanted to share some additional thoughts with my readers here.

Slow and steady wins the race

Our Kickstarter period was 50 days and our goal was $5000.  In most Kickstarter efforts there's a jump in pledges at the beginning, they level off, for a long middle period, and then, if successful, jump up again at the end.  We seemed to be a bit of an exception in that we plugged along the entire time, slow and steady.

Figure the Math
We had figured that we needed $100 per day to reach our goal and we kept a pretty close eye on that number.  Good days, we exceeded it, and a few not-so-good days went by with no backers at all.  But what we didn't do, and I think would be useful for anyone embarking on Kickstarter to do, is that math about how many backers at what levels we needed to be successful.  Here's how it played out for us--see the pie chart above.

Fully fifty percent of our donors were at the $25 level and another twenty-five percent at the $50 level, with smaller amounts both above and below those numbers.   I suspect most Kickstarter project developers dream of those big anonymous backers coming through.  We didn't receive any backers at our highest level,  but our two largest pledges were from people we don't know.

And what about people you know and don't know?
Our backers fell into several different categories.

• Friends and family
• Museum colleagues (and this including friends I know in person and colleagues who know me through this blog, Twitter or some other means)
• Peace Corps Volunteers who have been or are stationed in Ukraine
• Former Fulbright Scholars and Students
• The Ukrainian community in North America
• People interested in food and sustainability
• People who are regular backers of Kickstarter projects
• And people we don't know at all!

What this list tells me is that we did a pretty good job at putting all of our networks to work.  One single network or only one avenue of approach would not, for us at least, have gotten the word out to enough people.

And how did we get the word out?
One great thing about Kickstarter is that it made it easy for others to help.  If you became a backer, it was easy to share the link on your Facebook feed and/or email it to others.  So great backers were also great boosters, encouraging others to join them, even going so far as to offer home-made pickles to backers in one city!


The layout of the Kickstarter site also provides a very professional, welcoming and accessible aesthetic (see above) that lends additional credibility to the effort.  The Pickle Project already has a well-developed social media presence but the Kickstarter site might be particularly useful for efforts that do not have good information online. (and it always made me smile to see Treadwell, population 250, listed up there with cities like New York and San Francisco in the Cities bar for project locations)

You can follow the Pickle Project on Twitter (@PickleProject) and midway through the project we began tweeting (using twitpic) a Pickle Pic of the Day, which we also posted on Facebook.  We heard from a number of people who really enjoyed seeing that picture, of food, of people, of a place, every day and it's something we'll try to keep up.

I came to appreciate the value of Twitter as numerous backers and other tweeters  took up our cause.  Everyone from PoPinDC and ArchivesInfo (museum colleagues both) to Ms. Marmite Lover, from London, who shared our work with her almost 7000 followers.

We of course, continued to blog and to share updates on Kickstarter.  This kept our backers engaged and made it easier for them to share our work with their circles as new information came in.  The support of other blogs was also great.  Melissa Mannon offered me a guest spot on her Archives Info blog,  and blogs such as Brooklyn Baba, Brooklyn Brine and the blog of the Agricultural and Food Law Program at the University of Arkansas each gave the project short features, raising the project's profile.   Sarah did an interview on Nash Holos, a Ukrainian focused radio show from Vancouver and I appeared on Simona David's show on WIOX here in the Catskills.  The Watershed Post did a great feature where we talked about the similarities between the Catskills and rural areas in Ukraine.

In short, every single day of those 50 days, except for Christmas, we did something--and usually more than one something.   And we used old media, new media, and everything in between.  An unexpected bonus is that this concentrated effort expanded our audience in the long run.

Why did people back us?
The answers to that are as varied as our backers--and backers, if you're blog readers here, we'd love to have you weigh in with your thoughts.  Some cared about Ukraine, some cared about food, some cared about us (thanks Moms!) but we think most importantly,  people were excited to back a passionate idea,  an idea about something new, that we managed to convey that in all of our efforts.  A project like this is a risk, and we're honored by the trust and confidence all our backers have placed in us.

Is Kickstarter Right for Your Project?
That's something only you can answer.  About 50% of the thousands of Kickstarter projects have been funded (remember, it's all or nothing).  We can guarantee that the money just won't come pouring in--but I think, with my museum hat back on,  that it could be a tremendous platform for some types of museum projects:  exhibits,  efforts to engage new audiences,  mobile apps--but only if the museum/history organization is willing to push hard for backers--that's no different than any other kind of fundraising!   I also think it's potentially a great vehicle for history-related projects that don't have an institutional base, but rather, represent more individual passions and interests.

Was It Right for the Pickle Project?
Absolutely.  Just in case you missed it,  here's our Kickstarter video to see what we hope to do.  And our thanks go out to all our tremendous backers from around the world--we appreciate you all!

The Word from 8th Grade: That was Awesome!

The term focus group often seems scary or off-putting to some groups I work with--but really, it's just a term for listening to what visitors--and potential visitors--have to say.   Last week,  as part of a new IMLS-supported project at the Ontario County Historical Society,  staff members and I spent two days listening to community members talk about the museum and about the concept for the new exhibition, "Greed and Other Human Desires:  The Early History of Western New York."  You can check out the project blog here to learn more.  

Much of the visitor research work in the museum field focuses on larger institutions as those museums have the funds to commit to full-scale evaluation. The work by Reach Advisors, particularly their survey of Connecticut cultural consumers,  begins to bring audience perspectives from all kinds of museums, including small ones, into the picture.  So I was interested to see what our groups had to say both as it related to larger contexts as well as our particular project.

All the conversations were fascinating, but I was particularly struck by the comments of two groups of 8th graders.  These were students,  chosen by their social studies teacher, with a particular interest in history:  many of them were History Day participants and all were headed towards AP history courses. Here are some of their thoughts on what museums do.

 On labels

• Kids don't really like reading.   [but then some disagreement from several others who did like to read.]
• They had like the artifact and a small description—not too small, but not like a history lesson.
• I had to go on a field trip that I liked up until my teacher told me I had to be reading a lot because if I wasn’t reading I wouldn’t learn.  I’ve learned more from museums than having to read right off a wall.
• Part of a museum is seeing it, otherwise it would be a library.

On computers

• If you go somewhere with your family, you don’t want to be stuck at one computer screen, you want to be able to pass it around and talk about it.
• I don’t like them that much.
• It’s weird that it’s dirty. [this was a conversation about germs]
• I feel like with the computer—it’s only one answer you can get.
• At a museum, you clicked on a computer and read about it—it was a cartoon, Ice Age and seemed kind of boring…clicking.
• There was 100% agreement in both groups that computers were the least interesting part of a museum visit.

On Hands-On Interactives

• You could get to feel like what they were doing and how they were doing it and what went through their mind.  You get the sense of “whoa, that was hard for them!"
• Pops out more in my memory when you’re actually holding stuff
• It’s easy to forget words and pictures;  easy to remember when you’re actually doing stuff;  touching.

They all felt that the use of reproductions for interactives was critical, as it was important to touch and feel.

On the Power of Imagination, Immersion and the Individual Story

•  Like with the Holocaust, you know that people died, you know these things happened, when you focus on one person, like Anne Frank hiding and stuff, it makes it real.
• I always find it interesting when I see pictures of a long time ago, to imagine—how things used to be.
• Being able to go in, see what it was like.
• The longhouse—that was awesome [at Ganondagan State Historic Site]
• I like real life examples—if you’re telling about how they dressed,  they had mannequins—the visual was really cool.
• You can find different answers if you look around.
• I always like it when an expert can tell you something about it.

Several comments highlighted what's often a shortcoming of local history museums.  The students very much wanted to understand local events in the context of a larger picture,  to understand, as one put it, "More the quieter events during a larger period of time."   That's something many local museums can be better at.

Most boring museum?

For one, it was an art museum.  “The most boringist thing I’ve ever gone to—they’re hanging on the wall.  Art is art.  You stand around with a whole bunch of people, it’s quiet, you can’t even talk to your other family members,  don’t talk, and don’t scuff your feet.”   For another, a sports hall of fame.  "My dad made me go. I just didn’t think anything was interesting. You just stand there and read."

 On the role of parents and museum-going

• My parents have never really gone anywhere of their own will, actually.
•  Went to Albany for basketball tournament—and went to state museum. She [my mother]  was really was interested—They [parents] don’t have as much time.  When we want to go, they go, so they just go too.
• There are some adults that are just naturally interested in history.
• My dad likes things in the advertisement, that say you can do something.

And how could the museum let you know what's going on?

• I don’t read the newspaper
• Facebook, my home page
• Posters and flyers, because kids go around town;  some kids don’t go on Facebook,  just coming to school you see posters

Facebook generated a fair amount of discussion.  They didn't quite see why a museum would be on Facebook or why they would want to like a museum there.  However,  they were more interested in the idea of seeing historic photos of where they live on Facebook and were most interested when we told them, if their parents granted permission, their group photo would be on the museum's page.  Said one boy, "You should make those blogs and facebook things more known! "

Our conversation also included their thoughts on the topics of greed, survival and ambition--the subject for another post.  But what I hope my readers take away from these great students (aside from the thought that parents have no lives of their own) is that these conversations are easy to do--and that they can easily become a part of a local history museum's work.  

And the how-to:  check out the resources at the Committee on Audience Research as a starting point.  It's critically important to be clear in your own mind about what you want to know and design questions that reflect that.  And it's even more important to LISTEN!  The goal in these sessions is to hear from the group, not to share what the museum's up to or the problems you have.   An evaluation professional can be immensely helpful in the process, but these simple conversations are something a museum of virtually any size can undertake on its own and still learn a great deal of useful information.

All of us on the project team agreed that we all learned some surprising things--and that these students now have a connection to the new exhibit.  It's a terrific two-way street that benefits all.  These simple conversations are just one way to prevent local history museums from becoming those dinosaurs.   Thanks, 8th graders for teaching me something new!

Feeling Bogged Down?

In a post last fall, I wrote about whether local history museums are in danger of becoming dinosaurs.  It became my most read post, by a huge margin, so obviously, there's a big concern about organizations that are bogged down, stuck in the mud.  But there are answers out there. Today,  I want to encourage small and mid-sized US museums--of all types-- to consider taking part in an easy, thoughtful way to get unstuck.  It's the American Association of Museum's Museum Assessment Program.

I've been a MAP reviewer to two separate organizations over the past year or so.  Very different places, very different organizations.  One was a very small history organization in a very small town in the mountainous west;  the other a historic house part of a larger organization in the Mid-West.  Both applied for the MAP program (which does not cost your organization anything) because they knew they could be better.  The MAP process is an easy application, followed by a self-study and a consultant visit.  In reviewing the self-study documents for my two museums, I found that it gave each organization a chance to really think about its work:  about what they do, who they involve, what they collect, and critically, from my perspective, how they connect with their communities.   And I hope my site visit gave them a chance to ask questions, to hear how other museums organize their work and connect with their communities, to brainstorm a bit and consider the "what ifs" that should be a part of all of our work.   The site visit isn't a judgment--it's a chance for you to work with an experienced museum professional and gain her perspective.  After the site visit,  the consultant completes a written report, which can provide important information and guidance as the museum moves forward.

(And by the way, as a reviewer, I've loved the chance to learn about a new museum, meet new colleagues, and see new parts of the country.)

You can apply for one of three MAP assessments:

• Organizational
  Collections Stewardship
  Community Engagement 

Each one has a slightly different focus--and a different focus on the roots and how your organization grew--and can grow. Check out the website to find out what's right for you.  Still confused?  The MAP staff is ready and willing to speak with you--just contact them at  map@aam-us.org or 202-289-9118.  But don't delay!  The postmark deadline for this year's applications is February 18.   

 Photos from Pie-Town, New Mexico,  FSA/OWI Collection, Library of Congress

Kickstarter Lessons, Part 2

Several weeks ago, as the Pickle Project's Kickstarter effort launched, I wrote about what we had learned as we did the planning and began.  And now, with just two weeks left, I wanted to update about what I learned about raising money in this way--and how it connects to so much else we do.

Some background:  the Pickle Project is an effort by fellow Fulbrighter Sarah Crow and I to document and share Ukrainian foodways with American audiences because we think we all have much to learn from a culture where many people grow, eat, forage, cook and preserve in sustainable, seasonal, local ways.  About a year ago we began a blog, which has been enriched greatly by guest posts by friends and colleagues who are, or who have, lived and worked in Ukraine.  But we're just two people with an idea--we're not a non-profit--hence, Kickstarter, a way for creative people of all types to crowdsource funding for projects.

So what else have we learned?

Your own network is the best network.  This type of funding really relies on networks and we've discovered that our own networks are the best way.  My network of museum colleagues, both those I really know, and those who know me virtually--as well as both our networks of friends (thanks Book Club members!) have been incredible supporters.  Neither Sarah or I have Ukrainian roots, so it's been a bit harder to break into the Ukrainian diaspora, but with some assistance,  including Sarah appearing on a Canadian Ukrainian radio show, Nash Holos,  over the weekend and a listing in a weekly Ukrainian email update,  we're beginning to see more support there.  The lesson is that it's hard to jump cold into a network. And of course, networks are built one by one by one.  If you're contemplating any project, consider who your organization knows and who knows you.

It takes time.  Every day, as anyone who follows me or the Pickle Project on Twitter knows,  we tweet,  update the Pickle Project Facebook page, and encourage people to support us.  We've appeared on radio shows,  emailed to our lists of contacts and friends' contacts, and done press releases and flyers. We knew this already, but it's really hammered home that the big wide world of the Internet is only as big as you make it.  And that takes time.

But global is global.  We've had supporters from Hawaii to Sweden to Ukraine and everywhere in between.  Amazing!

Givers are givers.  I would say that the biggest groups of supporters to date are museum colleagues,  students or recent students, and Peace Corps volunteers. I suspect none of those groups are distinguished by having fancy cars,  big houses, or even in some cases, jobs.  As a result, Sarah and I have been incredibly touched by their support.  And of course, there's plenty of statistics that demonstrate that people with lower incomes donate a higher percentage of their incomes to charity than those with larger incomes. 

Pictures, stories--and passion--count.  A bit into the effort, I started posting a food picture a day, either historic or contemporary,  on Twitter and on Facebook.   We've heard from several people that they love seeing those little pictures arrive every day.  Just words aren't enough.   On Kickstarter and on the blog,  we try make the topic fun, interesting, and even moving.  Our Kickstarter video is a little homemade effort which took a great deal of time but hopefully reaches out to those who know Ukraine--and those who don't.   I think giving is connected with passion.  I was reminded of this as I looked at  year-end fundraising letters in my mailbox.  One from a local organization moaned about money and proposed nothing new.  But another was full of optimism and plans.  One felt full of passion, one did not.   I suppose what this means is that whining is not a fundraising strategy!

Take the jump!  As we've begun some conversations with possible funders, the fact that we already have a presence via social media is proving to be of interest to them.  I often hear from people who say they don't have time to do a blog, or a website, or a Facebook page at their organization.  It takes time, but isn't that what museums and history organizations do?  involve people in our work?  If you're one of those museums who say they don't have time,  try keeping track of all staff and volunteers do over the course of a week or month.  If you're a staff member, could you let that fundraising committee plan without you?  perhaps.  If you're a volunteer or potential volunteer, do you want to learn something new?  probably.  In particular, I think small museum leaders can really take a jump here and begin to involve people in new ways.   The web is an equalizer for small organizations.

So how are we doing?  With just two weeks left to go,  we've reached more than 50% of our goal.   For the next two weeks, we'll be tweeting,  updating our status,  and doing even more to get there.  We hope you'll join us!  If you're contemplating a Kickstarter project and want to know more--please get in touch and we're happy to share more of what we've learned, as Kickstarter veterans did with us.

And our biggest takeaway?  It's a big, wide, generous world out there.

 

Thanks to Grace Eickmayer for the top and bottom photos.

Click! Mobile Media at the MFA

Over the holidays, I took a trip to Boston and visited the new Art of the Americas wing at the Museum of Fine Arts.  I'm not a huge fan of audio tours, but thought I would try out their new multimedia guide after I read about it online (and by the way, having found that information once, it now seems hard to find there).

After the recent discussion by Arianna Huffington and Nina Simon's thoughtful, impassioned rebuttal, I thought it made sense to think about this guide from a visitor's perspective.  What did I want from it?  What did I expect?  Was it easy to use?  and most importantly of all, did it deepen or change my experience?  Did I bug other visitors?

The front desk attendant gives you a brief verbal introduction to using the player. I don't know how that would have worked if it had been really crowded when we entered.  There was a charge for the guide, but a discount for members.  I sat down and played with a bit before entering galleries.   This is most definitely not a tour, but rather a tool to use as you go through the galleries, as the only way you find a piece to learn more about is by seeing the headphone symbol on the label.   I expected to be guided from place to place, but then, once I figured it out,  just went in the galleries and explored.   I found myself juggling the media player, my camera, and a map; occasionally pulling out a notebook to make a note.  So it seemed like a lot to handle--I wonder if the next step in media players in museums is one that allows you to take pictures as well.  Wouldn't that wind some people up!

I found myself not so interested in the audio, as usual for me.  But two particular components I found really compelling--they drew me in and I'll remember them for a long time--I think they illustrate what these kinds of guides may be best at for visitors--or at least visitors like me.

At Mary Cassatt's In the Loge (above) I got to see a sketch for the painting and also learned that this woman's curious look at other operagoers was not considered appropriate behavior and saw a painting (Renoir, perhaps?) that depicted what was appropriate behavior.  So in a very short time, I learned a bit about Cassatt's artistic process;  appreciated the work and thought that goes into creating a painting, saw the work of another artist on the same topic, and even learned a bit of social history.   It would have made for a long label, but it was a perfect sized bit.

And then there was Watson and the Shark by John Singleton Copley.  One of the masterworks in the Americas wing, it had a bustling crowd around it.  I sat for a minute and listened (and watched) to an African American community member (and member of the board of trustees, I think) discuss this painting on my little media player.  He remembered seeing it as a young man and was struck by the authority of the black man commanding the boat--and how rare it was to see, in life or in art, an African American shown in a position of authority.  I was touched by the memory--but it also caused me to look closer at the painting--to really look at that man commanding the boat.

These two pieces reflected what I often want when I visit a museum.  I want some context (that's the history museum part of me) and I want to connect emotionally.  Honestly, I don't care so much about dates or styles so that sort of catalog entry available on the guide didn't encourage me to explore more than a couple of those.   And of course, I liked being able to explore at my own pace and in  my own way.  Disturb other visitors' experiences?  I don't think so.

I didn't have a kid with me so I can't speak for the kids' guide (above)  from a kid's perspective.  But from an adult perspective, I found it pretty so-so.  Somehow an adult narrator speaking from a kid's perspective made it all seem both dull and a bit phony.

And a quick shout-out to the MFA's member program.  We were enthusiastically greeted at the door and asked if we were members and the free admission, discount parking, discount on the media guide, and discount in the restaurant made that Christmas present to my husband seem like a great thing!

More and More: My New Year's Resolutions

I thought about a year-end review, or a top-ten list but decided instead, to share my professional resolutions for the coming year.  The past year has been an incredible one, full of adventures and a year that this blog seemed to find its footing with readers...so first, a big thank-you to all of you who read, commented and shared with others.  In 2011, I hope to:

Risk More
There's always a temptation to play it safe: to tell the interpretive story that is the non-controversial one,  to not say something when you really should speak out, and to just stay in your comfort zone.  When I applied to be a Fulbright Scholar to Ukraine, one of my goals was to go outside, way outside, my comfort zone.   The professional and personal rewards of that risk have been immense for me--allowing me to see things in new ways and develop new networks and connections.  I want to keep taking more risks in my professional life--saying yes to risky projects, trying something new, and encouraging others to do the same.  I'll try to ban the words, "Yes, but...." from my vocabulary this year.   My post about local historical societies as dinosaurs generated huge readership and many comments--and the best way to avoid that dinosaur fate might just to be, for each museum, to resolve to do at least one risky, visitor-centered thing this year.   I'm always on the lookout for great, innovative projects to share here--and for guest bloggers so if you undertake that risky new thing,  be sure and let me know.

Read More
I feel like every day brings more and more I should be reading.  Tweets send me to fascinating articles, bloggers old and new continue to draw me in with their thoughtful perspectives on our work,  and every morning, online newspapers beckon with their random assortment of  news (and all that's ignoring whatever Stumble Upon brings).   But at the same time, I have a growing pile of books that sit unread--and those are the focus of this resolution. 

My goal is to set aside time to fully dive into books--and perhaps I'll start by joining Nina Simon's newest book club effort and read Sustaining Innovation with all of you.    For a new exhibition project, the small project team and I have decided to divide up the secondary source reading and share our thoughts on the ongoing project blog (by the way, it's about greed in the early settlement of Western NY, a potentially risky topic) as a way of expanding our knowledge and, we hope, involving our audience.   My book club continues to inspire me to read books I wouldn't otherwise have read;  over a Florida vacation, my nephews encouraged me to join Goodreads.  It appears that reading is for me, becoming a community, a collaborative effort--a long way from those days reading books underneath my covers with a flashlight.

Write More
Thanks to the patience of editors Gretchen Jennings and Bob Beatty,  the Exhibitionist and History News each published articles about my experiences in Ukraine.  They proved an unexpected workout as I shifted from the informal, short-form blog entry to a longer, more sustained series of thoughts.  Blog posts will continue, of course, but I'm also contemplating whether there's a book in my future.  The writing process made me ponder whether the future of more academically-oriented journals about the museum field when so much good, reflective work is being produced all the time, on-line.   First up for me though:  some entries for the revised Encyclopedia of Local History.  What do you think should be included in the entry on exhibits?

Connect More
The best thing about blogging and tweeting is the connections to people.  For a long time this felt like a bit of a one way street, but this year it seemed to have changed, for reasons I'm not quite sure of. It's been great to have more comments, to meet some of you at conferences, and to read my fellow bloggers work (of course, Museum 2.0 but also Jasper Visser and many others).   I've been contemplating attending some sort of international conference or workshop this year as I'm continually interested in what's happening other places--suggestions?

I suspect I'm at the far end of the age range for museum bloggers, and one vital aspect of my work is the chance to make connections with people coming up in the field, with new ideas, perspectives and skills.  It's made me a bit impatient with my peers who grouse about those newcomers, or who harumph about social media.  I mean, who wants to connect with a harumpher! So I'm not quite sure about how I'll connect more, or who those connections will be with,  but I feel sure there will be new people to meet, talk, and share ideas with.

(Above, one of my favorite places, an abandoned building turned bar,  I had great conversations and re-connections this year, in Budapest, with my longtime friend Gyorgyi Nemeth).

Give More
At the end of 2010,  my colleague Sarah Crow and I launched the Pickle Project on Kickstarter.  We're at 25% of our goal, with just a month left to reach it.  I've been touched by the generosity of friends, colleagues and even perfect strangers in supporting our project (and of course, you can join them!)  It's made me resolve to be a better giver myself.   I'll be supporting one project a month on Kickstarter and will try to increase my local giving as well, particularly to museums and history organizations that are those risk-takers.

To all of you, a happy, risk-filled New Year!