NOT Boring House Tours

For a new project, I posted a query on several museum list-servs seeking perspectives on historic houses that engage their visitors. I heard from those who noted a site they had visited, and from others who worked at sites that had undertaken new interpretive efforts. I'll continue to write about historic houses, but here's the start of a list of historic houses that museum list-servers recommended:

Rupp House, Gettsburg, PA
Locust Grove, in Louisville, Kentucky
Laura's Plantation
Drayton Hall, SC
Middletown Place, SC
Sotterly, MD
Coffin House, Fountain City, Indiana
Luthili Museum, South Africa
Lower East Side Tenement Museum
Anne Frank Museum
Davenport House Museum, Savannah, Georgia
Chateau de Mores State Historic Site, Medora, ND
Benjamin Franklin House, London

What else should be on the list? Where have you had a memorable, engaging experience?

Above: White pitchers at Chateau de Mores State Historic Site, from levendis' photostream on flickr.com

"Visiting a Very Historic House"

Talk about personal meaning-making. I found this image on Flickr. It was posted by Randy Waltrip, and the title is the same as this entry and his caption reads:

One of the things I really wanted to do with Sue and Bob was to drop by the old, three-flat house on Miflin Street where both her family and my mother's family had lived in the 1940's. She was kind enough to agree, and so we drove over to the old neighborhood and began to walk around the "historic house", with Sue sharing memories of her life as a girl there, and how much she had enjoyed having my Mom for a babysitter.

Within Our Own Time

This weekend, I came across a link to a group of photographs by Paul Fusco, taken from Robert F. Kennedy's funeral train and now on exhibit at the Danziger Project gallery in New York City. The images are so sunny and beautiful, yet unbelievably sad and full of pain. As I clicked through them, I wondered about all the people in the photographs--did they remember that day? seeing the train, or just the fact that that their mom made them go out and stand by the tracks on a hot day? did it change anyone's life?

In the last decade, we've seen many museums of many sizes take on projects relating to World War II: exhibits on homefront activities have been many. But I can't think of many projects that have really examined the Sixties, in all its messiness. Two exceptions are What's Going On: Newark and the Legacy of the Sixties at the New Jersey Historical Society and the new museum at the site of the Woodstock Festival.

The American view of World War II is a fairly tidy one, but the Vietnam War and the Sixties is not. How do we, as museums, explore topics for which there isn't a consensus? And as I attempt to do oral histories for projects, I'm reminded that the time to collect personal perspectives and objects from that time period is now, not later.

Above: Photo by Paul Fusco from RFK Funeral Train Rediscovered at the Danziger Project.

Big Ideas, Little Money

"The lack of money is the root of all evil."

Mark Twain

Recently, articles about two well-known historic houses have brought issues of financial management, expansion and audience to the fore. The Mount, Edith Wharton's home in the Berkshires, is facing extreme difficulties and earlier this year, defaulted on a $4.3 million loan from a local bank. Determined efforts may yet rescue the site. From the Mount's blog, the following announcement on May 13:

"The agreement of Berkshire Bank and our other major creditors to grant the six-month extension represents a significant milestone in our determined fight to resolve our problems and establish The Mount on responsible financial footings going forward. This extension allows us to capitalize on the Berkshires' peak tourist months to generate much needed operating revenues while at the same time provided a realistic time frame to achieve our $3 million fundraising goal....We have a considerable way to go and do not underestimate the enormity of the challenge." (Mount Trustee, Gordon Travers).

In today's New York Times, a story details the dire financial straits of Mark Twain's home in Hartford. The staff has been cut to 17 from 49, and despite a bank's forgiving of a loan for new visitor center construction (at a total, unanticipated cost of $19 million), the museum still faces significant shortfalls and possible closure.

What does this all mean? These are great houses, with tremendous stories of their inhabitants, well-documented, in good locations. At both places, professional staff have worked hard to creatively interpret the house and to engage audiences.

So what's the problem? I think, as my mom says, "Your eyes are bigger than your stomach," or in other words, the leadership at these organizations had a vision far beyond their means. $19 million visitor center, $2.5 million to buy Wharton's library back--if your organization has to accomplish this with a loan, somehow assuming that you'll be able to persuade donors to support the fait accompli, it seems pretty clear that it won't happen.

Whenever I read articles like this, I'm always curious about what board members think? Would they take this kind of risk with their own business or home? Are they just not paying attention and assuming someone else is?

In my work I spend alot of time encouraging organizations to think more broadly, to envision a new future for their museum or historic site. However, unless that creative thinking is paired with realistic organizational and financial planning, big ideas appear doomed to failure.

Little House on the Hudson?

More from the teaching history front: in a focus group this week, several teachers said they used Little House on the Prairie as a way of teaching about the history of New York State. It's been a long time since I've read any of the Little House books, and my daughter, now 19, never had any interest in them, but teachers seem to find them meaningful and useful. Interestingly, they use this to teach what they call "colonial" or "Early American" history, despite the fact that the books, written in the 1930s by Laura Ingalls Wilder, depict, through fiction, the Midwest in the late 19th century. I wonder whether the use of these books really reflects the teachers (mostly female) own childhood affection for these books, rather than any sort of real assessment of their usefulness in a classroom setting. I know for me, a small part of my mental images about the Revolutionary War were shaped by reading Johnny Tremaine by Esther Hudson. I had to go back and look up some descriptions of the book to recall the details, but I remember his apprenticeship as a silversmith, the sense of being involved in events larger than one's own life, and a sort of pluckiness and determination. Funny I don't remember Laura from Little House in the same way.

The same group of teachers mentioned that, on the museum visit, they wanted more activities that were appealing to boys in their group. I think of Little House as very much a girl's book--even Farmer Boy, also by Wilder, is more boy-centered, as it's based on Wilder's husband's growing up in New York's North Country.

What does this mean? is it the detail in the books that is appealing? the idea that many of the activities discussed are translatable to classroom activities? should we, as museum people care that teachers use these books to teach history? are there books relating to New York State's history that would make a good read before visiting certain NYS museums? Why cannot we shape real historic sources and narratives into forms that can engage students?

Back Then

(or perhaps this post should be titled, Lies my Teacher Taught Me, with apologies to James Loewen)







For a project, we surveyed elementary teachers who bring their students to a museum to find out about what they thought was important, what the students were learning, and how the visit tied to their curriculum. Although this museum's curriculum-based materials aren't the best, the website, collections and other materials clearly state that the site focuses on the 19th century. However, time and time again in the surveys, teachers said they visited because it connects with their study of Colonial history. Astounding. Can it really be that so many teachers--people with advanced degrees, and responsible for teaching children--really don't know the difference between the Colonial period and the 19th century? Should we be surprised that our general visitors can't make the distinction?

I'm not the kind of history person who thinks knowing every single date is important, but it seems to me that knowing a basic chronological progression might be a requirement for anyone teaching social studies. It presents a huge barrier for history museums and historic sites--if teachers can't even grasp the basics of what you're teaching, why would they come and how can they make sense of what happens at your site and connect it to their other classroom work?

What's the answer? Teacher workshops done by history museums? a revised system of training teachers?

New Exhibits of Note

I'm always reading about new exhibits and keep a mental list of ones I'd like to see, should I be somewhere. Some are on the list because of the subject matter, others because of an interesting installation or approach, and some just for fun. Here's some from my current list:

Discovering Rastafari! at the Smithsonian's Museum of Natural History. I know little about this religion and culture and for me, an exhibition is always a great way to begin to learn more. Weirdly, there's just a one paragraph description on the museum's website, but you can read the New York Times review here.

The Horse, at the American Museum of Natural History in New York. Sounds like a large exhibit, chock-full of objects, computer interactives and hands-on elements. AMNH has produced a number of my most memorable exhibits, from tattoos to Darwin.

Take Your Time:
Olafur Eliasson at the Museum of Modern Art in New York.
I couldn't describe this, so here's an excerpt from the museum's website:

Take your time: Olafur Eliasson is the first comprehensive survey in the United States of works by Olafur Eliasson, whose immersive environments, sculptures, and photographs elegantly recreate the extremes of landscape and atmosphere in his native Scandinavia, while foregrounding the sensory experience of the work itself. Drawn from collections worldwide, the presentation spans over fifteen years of Eliasson's career. His constructions, at once eccentric and highly geometric, use multicolored washes, focused projections of light, mirrors, and elements such as water, stone, and moss to shift the viewer's perception of place and self. By transforming the gallery into a hybrid space of nature and culture, Eliasson prompts an intensive engagement with the world and offers a fresh consideration of everyday life.

It looks beautiful and compelling--and when you visit the website, don't miss looking at the pictures of visitors interacting with the exhibit.

Superheroes: Fashion and Fantasy at the Metropolitan Museum of Art
I like historic costume, but I'm not very interested in when bustles came in or sleeves went out. The visual nature of clothing and its meaning in all of our lives is what draws me in. Any show that combines comic books, high fashion, and high performance sportswear seems worth seeing.

And one historic site for the list, the newly opened President Lincoln's Cottage.
Using "historical voices" and images, the site tells the story of the simple place that was Lincoln's retreat.

What do you want to see?