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Just a reminder....the deadline for the Uncataloged Museum contest to win a free registration to the Museum Association of New York/Upstate History Alliance Museums in Conversation Annual Conference, April 11-13, 2010,  is coming right up.  Contest entries due February 10-- get all the details right here.   It's the easiest way to win a conference registration ever!

Screens-On or Hands-On? Thinking about Interactives

My last post about the Kelvingrove Museum in Glasgow.  There were dozens of activity stations in the museum.  Some were in special interactive areas, others were scattered throughout the galleries.  Some general observations:

Unlike some museums where there are groups of visitors hovering around computer interactives, the screen-based interactives here didn't seem to draw huge crowds.  They were interesting, but I think it was because the exhibitions as a whole were compelling and interesting--that visitors didn't default to that screen.

I was happy to see one particular interactive--this one, with the thought bubbles around the painting.  About a year ago I'd found a picture of it online and had used it in several presentations--and somehow the one picture didn't quite tell the tale.  So now I understand how it works--and although it does engage visitors, I think the bang for the buck is greater with other,  less technology heavy interactives.  Oh, and how does it work?  Using the keyboard, you type the thoughts you imagine each person in the painting is having...and then those comments appear in the thought bubbles.

There were a number of interactives in the painting galleries that seemed designed for very young children, all using some variety of building blocks.  But not just building--really looking at the painting--particularly the shapes and colors, and then placing blocks in the right places, re-creating the painting.  Great skill-building in terms of looking, understanding space and hands-on manipulations.

 

  

Three more random interactives.  Top, a spinning series of wheels that encourages thinking about color.  I liked the way words, symbols and images were all mixed-in together.   Center, a depicting a fairy tale painting, where you, in effect, walk into the painting and become the princess on the bed.  And bottom, a very simple interactive where you locate places on the map using plexiglass images.  I am increasingly seeing plexiglass overlays in activities, often with maps, and I think they're great.

And finally, one of the most effective interactives--always, no matter what!  It's simple conversation.  There was a sign here that invited people to talk about Hogmanay (New Year's) and this museum staff member and the couple were having a lively discussion about the differences between Irish and Scottish New Year's celebrations.   It struck me that this didn't really attract a crowd, but I bet that couple went home talking about the conversation.

In the center hall, there was a very busy mini-museum, for small children.  There were animal masks and feet to try on--and so exciting that one small girl left her bright red wellies behind!

What I see in all these interactives is real thought--and I'm guessing there was considerable experimentation and prototyping before the final versions debuted.

What are They Looking At? The Rare Species--Ideas in a Museum

The Kelvingrove Museum in Glasgow provided enough ideas and images to write dozens of posts.  So before I get too far away, and into other things, some additional observations.   In their re-installation, their collections are displayed in two sections,  Life and Expressions.   Needless to say,  each category holds so many opportunities for creative thinking.  Here's just a few (apologies in advance--I can't remember exact exhibit titles, and can't find the info on the museum's website)

Scottish Identity in Art
This exhibition ran the gamut from a traditional portrait of Mary, Queen of Scots, armor and guns,  to a Warhol-style image of Robert Burns as Che and a big contemporary photograph depicting a kilted, soccer (okay football) -headed, TV-watching guy in a plaid room.

Everyday Life in Dutch Genre Painting
Well-written, accessible labels explaining the symbolic meaning in these artworks.

Where's It Gone?
Rather than just a tiny label telling you that an object had been removed;  these labels told you why it was gone,  where it would be exhibited and when you could see it--a nice way to acknowledge another museum's work and to highlight the interconnectedness of museum collections and scholarship.

Objects and Media--in the Snow
I don't have a good way to describe this installation where you walked into a translucent box,  with objects,  film, and sounds, to experience the Arctic.  I'm not sure whether it was successful or not, but it was fascinating to be in, and to watch other visitors in it.

Place and Meaning
A number of these unusual sloped installations depicted landscapes from around the world, including Scotland, as a way to explore the ways in which environment affects human life.   In another exhibit,  the earliest history of human habitation in Scotland is enhanced by very large photographic images of the contemporary landscape.

Conflict and Consequence
As the introductory label says, "How we keep inventing new ways of killing people,  and then wonder why."  When was the last time you saw a label like that?  In the exhibit, arms and armor combined with recollections from Holocaust survivors and other information about survivors and peace activists.

One more post to come about interactives at Kelvingrove.   But, as you read this, think about the last time you visited a museum where every single room had real ideas in it.   Any place else I should put on my museums with the most ideas list?

A Brief Meditation on Memorials

When visiting Edinburgh Castle, I was most struck by the memorial to the Scottish soldiers who perished in World War I.  It's a big, chapel-like structure within the castle grounds, and inside, battle flags of Scottish regiments and big books with names of those who died are perused by visitors,  made somber by the setting itself, as the memory of that particular war is long-gone.

This week, I spent an afternoon with three former railroaders, reviewing plans for an exhibit about the Lehigh Valley Railroad at the Sayre Historical Society.   My concern with a topic like railroads is that I've misunderstood or misrepresented a technical detail--that I really don't know what a car-knocker does, or how railroad switches work, or whatever.   But, as I finished showing them the plans for the exhibit, one looked up and said, "There's one thing you're missing."   That one thing:  a memorial to those Sayre men who lost their lives working for the railroad--in the shops or on the track.  That suggestion led to a discussion of a few of those men, now long-gone--of not only the accidents when they were killed, but their personalities and foibles--they all became real to me.   And those men, killed doing their jobs,  will be recognized in the exhibit.

Late this afternoon, as the fog rolled in at dusk,  I drove home through the village next to mine, and wondered what was happening.  The main street was filled with cars, state troopers were out--and I suddenly remembered that today was the funeral of a young Marine killed this month in Afghanistan.  Yellow ribbons lined the streets in his memory and Boy Scouts distributed flyers inviting everyone to his funeral.  In a small community like Franklin, I'm guessing almost everyone knew him or his family.  

This all made me think about other memorials I'd seen in museums.   I can only think of a few--and the one that stands out was one to Resistance fighters at a Resistance museum in Friesland, the Netherlands--and the reason again was the personal connection.   I visited that museum with a friend who recognized the family names of many of those honored--and she noted each one as she looked at the individual photos.

Are memorials the work of a museum?  What do we hope that memorials accomplish?  How can we create memorials in museums that stand the test of time--that continue to have deep meaning that transcends the generations? 

Transparency in Black and White

At the Gallery of Modern Art in Glasgow,  I found these laminated pieces of paper at the entrance to galleries, near the visitor comment book.  At first glance, I couldn't imagine what they were--definitely not an object or interpretive label;  definitely not a temporary out-of-order sign--what could they be?

I was fascinated to look closer and discover that it was the Quarterly Feedback Report--a summary of visitor comments for that quarter at the gallery.   There were 152,877 visitors--and 1078 of them left comments.   The comments were categorized:  positive, negative, suggestions, observations and enquiries.   What kinds of comments? They provided us with some samples:  one visitor wants the welcome sign in Gaelic; another appreciates the seating, and six people wrote some variation of "the whole building is going to waste.  I don't like modern art."

And, with the comments, there is also the section "The actions we have taken."  They don't seem like radical change, but if I were a regular visitor, I might be keeping an eye for that welcome label in Gaelic or other changes.

The museum is a part of Glasgow Museums, a division of Culture and Sport in Glasgow--so it's a government-run museum--and perhaps there are staff who groan at the thought of producing this report every quarter.   I can't think of another place I've seen such reporting--although the Indianapolis Museum of Art does it in a much broader way with their on-line dashboard.   When I was working with museums in Ukraine, I was often asked about museum statistics in the US.  Because US museums are primarily non-governmental, with independent boards of directors, public statistical reporting such as this seems less common and harder to come by.

So kudos to Glasgow's city government for museum transparency!

Questions? We've got Answers!

At the Kelvingrove Museum in Glasgow, I was particularly struck by the very simple labels that had questions--and answers--on them.  Many of these question labels were installed in the simplest of ways--black text on a white background, no illustrations--in the in-between spaces as you passed from the center halls into galleries.

What kinds of questions were asked and answered?  The kind that museum workers take for granted and museum visitors often wonder about.  Here's some examples:

All questions that our visitors have wondered about.   And in other places, answers were provided to questions that might have been asked.  For instance:

Great, right?  How many times have you wondered why something was done a particular way in a museum?   In at least one instance, the question-asking was the frame for the exhibition itself and so had a distinct graphic quality.

 In all of these,  it's evident that the exhibition staff (educators and curators working together, it must be) care about what the visitor wants to know, not just what they, the staff know.  What kinds of questions would visitors have at your museum?

That's a big egg! What messages does your organization send?

One of the places I really wanted to visit in Scotland was the Kelvingrove Art Galley and Museum in Glasgow.  Its redo has been much written about--and I'll write more.  But this is just a brief post about several elements at the Kelvingrove that made it so enjoyable.  These elements don't involve media installations, or expensive design--they are elements whose creation, I suspect, is embedded within the culture of the institution.

First, museum objects and interactives were installed low--so they were easy to see.  In one of the main center halls, along with a giraffe and a Spitfire, a group of big eggs were installed.  I sat for a couple minutes and watched group after group of people--old people, young people, in-between people, stop and take a look at these big eggs.   I can't even tell you what the label said about these eggs, but I do know they were were "spreadable"--their very presence made you want to point and share the egg, the giraffe, and the airplane with the people you were with.

Interactives were also installed low, with benches next to them...and interestingly, all the interactives seemed to be installed on flat, rather than slanted surfaces.   As a result, one mother felt free to set her youngest son down on the counter, while she worked with another.  It made it feel like a place to relax, rather than to feel constrained.

And finally, although there were guards at Kelvingrove, they were really unobtrusive.  You were allowed to take pictures (hooray!) and I never saw a guard ask a visitor to move back, or stop doing something.   The result wasn't that people went wild--the contrary.  It felt like the many people there during my visit--on a busy holiday week-- was a museum meant for them, a museum home.

Think about what sort of messages are embedded in the public parts of your museum--are they homey ones, that welcome people in, or ones that say, "stay away,  only for people who really know a lot!"  or "don't touch"  or "we really like it better when no one comes."    Although clearly the Kelvingrove's staff thought very long and hard about their changes,  the process can be a simple one...what could you put down low for people to look at?  Try it and see.