What Do You Like Best?

In Ukraine, I found asking the question, "What's your favorite...?"  or "What do you like best?" often generated a surprised look, a shake of the head, and a shy answer.   And upon reflection, it struck me as a major difference between the way Americans think about museums (and about life in general) and the way Ukrainians do.  In the Soviet system,  individual thought was never encouraged.  You did not have favorites, you were taught to believe that the "approved" writer or artist or building or object was the only one to like;  that experts had determined it was the best.   Americans are considerably more comfortable with holding--and voicing--their own opinions about almost everything.

As my time in Ukraine continued, I asked these questions more and more.   One reason is because I was genuinely curious about what people liked but I was also curious about people's reactions.  I liked their initial look of surprise, and then the careful consideration some gave to their answers.   It felt a small honor to have someone share an opinion with me.

And it also deepened my experience in museums.  In Opishne, I visited  a newly opened memorial museum--it had been the home of a local man who went on to become an artist, scientist, and collector of pottery from this community of potters.  The house was interesting and I enjoyed the visit--but as we reached the last room, I asked the guide if she had a favorite piece of pottery in the house.   She looked surprised, but led us back through two rooms and pointed to a jug on top of a cabinet--something I had absolutely missed before.   "This is my favorite,"  she said,  "It was made by my grandfather."

All of a sudden this museum--and this town--was not just a memorial-- it became a living place, a place where the traditions of pottery, despite the collectivization of the Soviets,  continued to hold a place of importance and honor to the people who live there.

Top to bottom:  Pottery at the new memorial museum;  guide showing me her favorite piece, and at another memorial museum in Opishne, a small tribute to a woman potter.

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."

Are Local Museums the Best Social Museums?

There's lots of discussion right now about how museums can be social places, places to gather, to come together, to enjoy each other's company.  And amidst all the talk,  I'd forgotten how nice an event that just brings people together can be--and this weekend, I got a beautiful reminder in the town of Opishne, in the Poltava region of Ukraine.   It's a bit unusual for a museum with national status to be located in a town the size of Opishne,  but the National Museum of Ceramics, run by an energetic director, Oles Poshyvailo, is.   So it's a national museum, but with a distinctly local flare and connection to this town, the traditional home of many potters.  For the past two weeks, there's been a ceramics festival, culminating in Saturday's National Potters' Day.

So what happened during these two weeks?  A unique combination of events:

• A scholarly symposium about Ukrainian traditional ceramics
• A two week artists' residency where 12 contemporary ceramic artists from 5 countries came to live and work, producing three works each for a juried show--and as side results, many new connections and ideas for collaborations among them
• The juried show, a juried show of traditional ceramics and a juried show of photos about ceramics
• The presentation of a new publication on Opishne ceramics in a Moscow museum
• Special exhibits in the museum's several buildings
• Master classes and demonstrations

and finally on Friday and Saturday, a fair held in the center of town--and that's the event that reminded me that museums, particularly local museums, can be these community centers.  It's particularly compelling here, where the event was held on the grounds of the former House of Culture, built by the Soviets to replace the traditional gathering places in communities.  But here, the event had the feel of a small-town event anywhere.  Local dignitaries (and not so local, including me) made opening speeches, traditional musicians performed,  young and old alike got to get their hands dirty trying a potter's wheel, slip decoration and straw braiding.  Hayrides, the sale of traditional pottery and a benefit auction and nicely out back, away from the main event,  a bouncy castle and the junk food I associate with a county fair.

And who attended this event?  Lots of people from the town--arriving by foot, bikes, scooter and car. The contemporary artists, jurors and scholars,  people from the larger community of Poltava.  Young people, old people, in between people.

The ceramics museum is, I suspect, the major employer in town and its employees worked incredibly hard during the two weeks to make the event a success.  Their success resonates beyond the museum however as it also served as a bit of an economic generator.  Artists and others were put up in local homes,  a restaurant served lunch every day,  I bought ceramics from local potters:  all those things make a difference in the local economy, no matter where you are.

I've planned fairs and festivals myself, and I know how much work they are (and how lucky one is to get a beautiful day like Saturday) and sometimes I groaned at keeping them fresh and new.  But in fact, the opportunity to see friends and neighbors, to enjoy music, to enjoy the work of potters and other craftspeople--and perhaps bring a piece home.  These things are the things that can  make local museums important social places.

Ukrainian museums lean towards the scientific--it often seems as if it is not acceptable to have fun in a museum setting.  In Opishne,  I found wonderful proof that the two can be combined.

Ideas Make Exhibits (and Design Helps)

I saw three exhibits in Budapest that serve as models for the belief that exhibits are about ideas, not just about objects.   Each one also combined great objects, compelling images and engaging design.  But the idea behind each exhibit is what made me want to see more--and will make me remember each long after my visit.

Let's start with excerpts from the opening labels:

Who can be regarded as a "true" citizen anyway?   What are the prime elements of civic mentality and morality?  How did the term "citizen"  which we regard either as an example to follow or an enemy to be destroyed in specific cases even today come into being?

This exhibition will guide you through the time period taking place between the end of the 18th century and the day of urban unification to show you the social history of citizenship.

From the exhibit at the Budapest History Museum

And now another from the Museum of Ethnography:

Why the Finns?
Because we are related and therefore we ought to know something about them?  ...because the Museum of Ethnography has never before organized a large-scale exhibition of its "unequalled" Finnish material?...because they are worth our attention?  because we have something to learn from them? ... Because we have as much to learn from them today as we did before?

The Museum of Ethnography's How We See the Finns attempts to communicate Finnish identity from a Hungarian perspective--to say something about the Finns as a people and about the diversity of their national culture.  Though it approaches its subject matter as an outsider it does so not with the curiosity of a distant foreigner but with the somewhat bashful interest one shows in the life of a good friend.

The final exhibit, also at the ethnographic museum, A Village in Hungary: People, Objects, Relations, was about the  pioneering fieldwork done in the 1950s-70s in a single Hungarian village during a time of great change. In the opening label, the curators begin:

The two decades following the Second World War saw the Hungarian peasantry facing a set of circumstances constituting the greatest turning point in its history.  The roots of a traditional peasant lifestyle, a product of centuries of development, were being eradicated with shocking speed, partly as a result of industrialization and--more potently--at the hand of the state.

In each of these opening labels (thankfully in English as well) the idea is clearly presented.  We know what we're going to see or learn,  we see a small flash of humor at times, we understand the connection to today's life, we understand a curatorial voice and perspective.  The opening text makes a strong case for the exhibit's value.

Each exhibit started with an idea that was driven by the objects and images--but then clever design connected us, as a visitors, to those complex ideas.   Here's some pictures of the designs (and a big shout-out to Hungarian museums for their generous photography policy--okay everywhere!)

In the exhibit on citizens, large picture frame graphics (top of post and above) that spread across the walls and floors made an exhibit that was primarily graphic have a lively sense of movement.

A simple hands-on dress up area that also included bean bag chairs and small tables--installed in what could have been an awkward space.

These boxes were in the public areas of the Museum of Ethnography before you entered the exhibit.  the outside vitrine had a traditional object.  When you entered the box,  the inside housed an modern Finnish equivalent--and the text, "It's not what you think."

Most of the casework was very simple, built of what looks like birch.  It all had very clean, modern lines, which worked both with modern materials and with the historic objects.

Massing of everyday objects (also cases of Fiskar scissors and Nokia phones) created visually interesting spaces.  That is a lot of rubber boots!

Traditional objects and their contemporary counterparts (produced both in traditional and new ways) were always juxtaposed, encouraging close comparisons.

In the village exhibit, this line-up of tools and the accompanying graphic show the distribution of tools within the village and their use within  and between families.  And the very large graphic below shows the different kinds of pottery used by families as a reflection both of taste and of economic circumstances.

Throughout the exhibit, large graphics (shown above) and quotes from both the ethnographers and the villagers themselves provided a sense of immediacy and intimacy about the village and those who lived there.

And to me, the one element that expressed so clearly, the end of a that time and of the destruction of traditional lifestyles is shown below.  Traditionally, the village men would go to a stable to hang out,  to talk-- a large photo and the stools they sat on are shown below.  But the accompanying label mentions that after a certain point these gatherings ended--anyone whose stable light was on,  who might be gathering in a group, was reported.  So they gathered no longer.

This little line-up of stools conveys so much--but only because the exhibit developers helped me make that connection, to understand this complicated story.   All three of these exhibits brought me to new understandings and will provide both content and design inspiration to me.

Everybody's Doing It: Museum Night in Budapest

Last Saturday I spent the almost longest day of the year at Budapest's Museum Night on a quick weekend visit to Hungary.  More than 84 Budapest museums participated and hundreds of thousands of locals and tourists headed out to enjoy an incredible range of activities for families, young people, old people and everyone in between.  It was great to see crowds of people at bus stops and on the metro,  reading their Museum Night guidebook and trying to figure out where to go--it felt like exactly the way museums should feel--a real part of the community.   A ticket which admits you to all the museums and provides free public transport cost 1300 forints--about $5.60.   The event began in Hungary in 2003 with only a few thousand visitors--and now attracts about 400,000 over the course of the evening.  Events also happened at other museums all over Hungary, in communities large and small.  I had last visited Budapest 18 years ago as it was emerging from decades of Communist rule, and this event gave me a chance to see how the city--and its museums--had changed.

Out of the 84,  I only made it to 6--but each one presented something different.  It wasn't that any particular activity I saw was so unique--it was the collective effort--and the sense of being a part of a something that everyone participated in a big city.  So here's what I did:

Hungarian National Gallery:  Activities for kids,  artwork by kids, and set-up for a later-night hairshow--based on hair found in the work of Futurist artist Depero, the subject of a major retrospective.   Hair show?  Why not?

Budapest History Museum:  Quick listen to a concert of Mexican music, and a browse through the galleries, including one very good exhibit about the meaning of citizen in the 18th century.  Blog post on that to come.

Art School whose name I don't remember:  Senior show, and music.

Art Studio torchlight tour:  There's a garden, as big as a city block, that contains both sculptures and studios for artists.  It's gated off, and only open to art students.  Taking a tour of something that's never open to the public was great--and the atmosphere was, well, atmospheric.

Franz Lizst Museum:  no surprise, a classical music concert, and a brief walk through period rooms.

The House of Terror:  Absolutely packed, this museum is in the former building used by Hungarian Fascists and later the Communist secret police.  It's a fascinating, complex place telling the story of both those eras. The crowds meant that we just shuffled through exhibit spaces, but it's something when a young man turns to the girl he's with and says, "let's stay for the 11:00 PM lecture."

Interestingly,  a quick Google search shows me Museum Nights all over Europe--from Amsterdam to Bucharest--but none in the United States.  Am I wrong?  Or what don't US museums embrace this successful model?

Why are Museums about Writing so Interesting?

I’ve written before about the Bulgakov Museum in Kyiv, one of my favorite museums in Ukraine Just recently, I’ve been in two other museums devoted to writing and writers that made me consider why it is that museums about words are so good at using ideas, not just words, to convey their story. 

First, the Franz Kafka Museum in Prague.  A new museum, located right on the river, it’s a highly theatrical presentation of Kafka’s life and work in Prague.  Like most people, I know of Kafka, but am not terribly familiar with his work.  The exhibits do a great job of integrating his life, his work, and the city of Prague.   The museum is mostly in shades of gray, black and white,  and uses several theatrical devices to connect the story.  A curled scrim shows a ghostly rotating view of Yiddish theater;  a section about a circular life includes materials installed in flat circular cases, lit from above.  The women in Kafka’s life are highlighted in individual cases that are transparent from front to back, giving a sense of his complicated personal life.   At one point, you enter a dark narrow space filled with the reflective glass fronts of file cabinets and dotted with ringing phones.  You pick up the phones and someone is speaking.  The sense of futility, of no way out, is palpable.   It’s a pretty great installation when you leave wanting to read Kafka, as I did (but haven’t yet).

The Kafka Museum in Prague appears to have substantial resources but this week I visited another exhibit in a much smaller museum, with much more limited resources:  the Literature Museum in Kharkiv, Ukraine.  The museum was founded after the end of the Soviet Union and it is a great testament to that fact that ideas don’t cost money.Their permanent exhibit explores Ukrainian writers in the 20th century.    The exhibit carries a strong conception of the narrative of those writers and the changes brought both the advent and decline of the Soviet Union, and that conceptual strength is assisted by the inventive efforts of design students.  

This could have been an opportunity to see an exhibit that was just a big line-up of books.  But instead,  enormous photographs and a timeline line the full exhibit.  Each room looks at a different time period,  and the extended text labels about the books shown are not installed directly with the book, but contained in folders for browsing.

The last three rooms were the most memorable to me.   Ukrainians (and I believe I have this right) have a phrase describing those who go into themselves,  going into a “blue world.”  In this “blue world,’   photographs with blanks for faces show the writers who were imprisoned or killed.   In the next room, the Soviet story is in full sway:  Soviet leaders hover over a giant tower of Soviet books.  Around the walls of the room,  the top shelves show those the works of writers who prospered during the Soviet Union;  a lower shelf, those who accommodated; and the very bottom shelf,  the works of those who resisted.   But there’s a double meaning:  not only does that bottom shelf represent the suppressed writers, but said the exhibit's co-curator,  “it’s a little sign of respect as we bow down to look at them.”

The final room is dedicated to the post-Soviet period.  Hand-designed wall-paper includes images of today’s Ukrainian writers;  a suggestion of a coffeehouse, with notepaper replacing napkins in their ever-present holder and a television with books inside, all provide a way to consider the new world that independence has brought.  The world of ideas, the world inside a writer’s mind, is made real in all these exhibitions.  We had a lively discussion, in a café, about whether this was because writer’s museums are about ideas and other museums are just about objects—what do you think?

"That is not for our people" I disagree!

That phrase, “That is not for our people”  is one I have heard more than once at workshops here and always find it incredibly frustrating. What is not for Ukrainians, say some?  A whole host of things they say—visitor-friendly museums, engaging exhibits, transparency in collections and museum operations. To me it represents the worst of the old-style Soviet thinking—a one size fits all mentality combined with a sense that someone in charge makes the decision about what is best for “our people.”

Yesterday, after the end of my workshop with Kharkiv museums, I saw the best illustration I could imagine about why people who say that are wrong. During the day, the participants had done a great job creating some  interactives prototypes which were laid out on big pieces of brown paper at the contemporary art space where we met. The 11 year-old daughter of one of the staff members is a regular visitor.  She came in  and was instantly drawn to the group's work.   She tried each one, and then, on her own initiative, became their guide to other visitors, including adults, who came into the gallery. She encouraged them to try each interactive, explaining how it worked and what it meant, rewarding everyone with a brilliant smile for their participation.

These elements that engage museum visitors—they are for Ukrainians. And, just as we left the workshop and walked through the park, I saw something else that some in power want to say is not for their people-- a group of students and others assembled in protest.   As I understood it, they had gathered to draw attention to the general failure of the police to do their jobs, to enforce the laws.

Young people, from that pig-tailed girl exploring new ideas in a gallery space to my museum colleague who dashed off yesterday to join friends protesting the wholesale cutting of trees for development and personal gain, continue to serve notice that the old ideas and ways of thinking are no longer for “our people."

Hopeful signs during a troubling time for Ukraine.