Do You Need a Museum? A Ukrainian Alternative

Last week brought word that more than 275,000 organizations lost their non-profit status from the Internal Revenue Service.  Among that group, not surprisingly, were a number of organizations that, in name at least, were museums, including a Toaster Museum, the American Museum of Business Culture, and Blow-Up, the Inflatable Museum (do you think it's inflatable or about inflatable things?)

And then this weekend a lovely post about an alternative, put together by an inspired Ukrainian, came into my Facebook feed, thanks to an article by Kateryna Kuchar at Rukotvory,  Ukrainian Folk Art Online,  where some of the articles are now in English (many thanks, Rukotvory!).   The website featured an interview with Volodymyr Kitselyuk, described as "an ordinary enthusiast from Hutsul region, a doctor by profession and an ethnographer by vocation."   His love for his region in the mountains of western Ukraine has led him to two different projects.  First, with a colleague, he has established a website with historic photographs from the region.  He doesn't collect and store these photos.  They go out into the villages with a computer and a scanner, scan the images and collect information.  Volodymyr says:

We go from a house to a house asking for ancient photographs. As a rule, the main thing is to catch hold of something interesting, and then villagers start to send for each other or even see us to different people. We have a special formula for explaining people what we want from them. Since it is difficult to reach understanding in small mountain villages using such words as “Internet” and “scanning” and the people we deal with are often elderly women we simply say that we would like to take photos of their old photos for a museum. When people are sure we are not taking anything from them, they certainly help us with pleasure.

The website, Hutsul Images, in both English and Ukrainian, has a beautiful design with photos organized by region.  When asked if his efforts were supported by the state, he noted, "The experience shows that it’s much easier to directly communicate with people in villages than with the staffs of state bodies."   Given the complicated history of western Ukraine, it's amazing that these photos survived and wonderful that they are now shared widely.  It's also wonderful to see an initiative that's not a grand plan with many pronouncements and no support, but rather a small initiative that grows organically.

But Volodomyr has taken his enthusiasm one step further, restoring several small houses in his home village and opening them up for tourism.   At one house visitors can cook, bake, churn butter and other activities.  The second house provides more modern accommodations.  But he's not a re-enactor:  as he describes it, "It’s not my objective to completely revive ancient ways of life because it is impossible. The main thing is to let people see the difference at least a bit and to have a rest from the city."   From childhood, he's been interested in a home museum, and is collecting as well.  This informal approach is far different from the vast majority of museums in Ukraine, although it shares much with the approach of Ivan Honchar,  whose private museum is now a public one in Kyiv.   So the museum may someday have a more public component.  But perhaps not.

As I read the article I wondered about the future.  His efforts are similar to the way in which  many museums begin, from a personal passion and interest.  Would it be better if it eventually became a formal institution?  or is it better to have a passionate commitment and then, if the commitment wanes and no one steps forward,  for such an effort to decline?   What's clear however, is that the online project will have a long life and that the eco-tourism effort will provide memories, and a link to a rapidly vanishing past, for those who visit (and I hope that includes me one of these days).

I'm sure many of those museums on the IRS list began with the same enthusiasm--for everything from railroads, fire engines, katydids, surfing and the unexplained (one actually was the Museum of the Unexplained).   But something inevitably happens along the way.  So if you're sitting at home contemplating starting a museum in the United States--be sure you check out this great publication from the Museum Association of New York, What Comes First: Your Guide to Building a Strong, Sustainable Museum or Historical Organization (With Real Life Advice from Folks Who’ve Done It).    Consider whether your work is best done within a museum setting or in an individual way--does it need an institution to be meaningful or can a passionate individual or "tribe" commitment be enough?  It seems that both passion and planning are both needed to make a project long-lived. 

Photos from Hutsul.com.ua and http://vlotko.livejournal.com/

Quick Update

Finally, a Facebook page for the Uncataloged Museum.   It'll feature links to regular blog posts, tweets, and even more.   I'm continually taking photos of great museum ideas put into practice (and a few bad ones as well) and I'll be putting albums up.  I hope you'll also use it as a place to share your own ideas, thoughts and more.

What's Next?

Not long ago, a colleague told me she had spoken at a graduate museum studies program and was astonished at how many students envisioned their future as a consultant, rather than working in an institution.  That's a big change from my own graduate school career where we imagined being directors, curators and an educator or two.   I never quite imagined the path that my career has taken,  and this summer, I'm taking the opportunity to join with several other colleagues in a consideration of what's next.

The idea for a consultants' retreat came about from a conversation where I was asked, in an overall conversation about strategic planning, if I had a plan myself.  I laughed, and despite extensive work on strategic and interpretive planning, sheepishly said no.  And then I called four other museum consultants in New York State whose work I value and admire--and guess what--none of them had a plan either.   So we decided to have a little mini-retreat where we all brought our concerns, hopes and ideas to the table to get feedback and assistance from the rest of the group.

We're still working out how our time together will work. We'll do some sort of career review--both the short-term and the long term (as one participant said, "I'm big on overarching narratives).   We'll think about the work we liked best and the work we liked least--and how to generate more of the former and less of the latter.  We'll talk about if and when collaborative consulting works, and how our various frameworks for both organizing and promoting our work serve us.  We may even come out with some frameworks for individual plans.  And I'm sure that we'll have a great time reflecting, talking and laughing over food and drink.

But I want to hear from blog readers out there.  If you're a consultant, what do you wish you had time to think about?  If you want to work as a consultant, why and what do you imagine your career will be like?  And for all of you, what's the next act in your museum life?

Every Day Surprises

At an AAM session last week, newly-minted director Nina Simon talked about wanting to offer free admission--some of the time--to her museum so those who came on that particular day would view it as something special--not an everyday thing, but a real surprise (and by the way, love the idea of seeking sponsorships for one day--what a great birthday gift for the person who has everything!)

And then today I came across this review of an exhibition at the Asian Art Museum in San Francisco.  Holland Cotter begins his review,

On a recent nothing-special weekday afternoon, I walked into the Asian Art Museum here and found a Balinese gamelan concert in progress: clanging gongs, pulsing drums, jazzy flutes, the whole real heavenly thing, with musicians settled cross-legged on a fabric-draped platform and a rapt crowd of museumgoers, many quite young, on benches, folding chairs and the floor.

Another surprise.  There's something I like about walking into a museum that's familiar to me--it's the idea of an old friend--but I'm also really intrigued by how we can make places that are surprising every day.  Not just surprising in the big permanent exhibit as spectacle way,  but surprising in the little ways that museums can connect with visitors.  One answer of course, is visitor-created content.  But I wonder what other answers there are. 

Could you put different single object in a case in your lobby each week?  Could you have pop-up curators giving impromptu talks?  And of course, here's Improv Everywhere's King Philip autograph signing at the Met.   Could your admissions person hand each visitor a page from a historical diary,  written that week decades ago, to read aloud and share?  Could you offer a free cookie, or at a history museum, a taste of a cooling historic drink (long ago, I remember making switchel for an event)?   How about a free return ticket?  What else could museums do?

What Can You Do Besides Start a Museum?

Last week, my co-presenter and I had a great conversation about our session at the AASLH conference in Richmond this fall about whether local historical societies are dinosaurs.  I've volunteered to take the position in our debate that they are rapidly becoming so.  As a result, I've been trying to find alternative models--and hope to highlight examples that have come across my desk.

In Tompkins County, NY,  a local group, spear-headed by county historian Carol Kammen (known to many readers of History News for her regular column) has established scholarships at the local community college to honor four local Civil War nurses.   It would have been easy to say, "oh,  we should have a museum of nursing, or a museum of civil war nursing!"  Then a non-profit would have been established,  a board of directors established, a building donated,  a small group of objects obtained, and then...and then what?  It would join the dozens of other small organizations that are struggling to find adequate financial resources,  volunteers,  and community interest.

Instead,  the proposed $80,000 scholarship fund (of which more than half has already been raised)  will provide support for nurses and "reminds us of the sacrifices made by many - both past and present. Your support creates scholarships, rewards those seeking an education, aids faculty with their own professional development, and strengthens the quality of life for all"  (from the college website).

Susan Emily Hall of Ulysses,  Sarah Graham Parker of Enfield, Sophronia Bucklin of Auburn and Julia Cook--names that otherwise might have been forgotten will be remembered through acts,  not just through a static display.

 If you have examples of ways in which we can engage our communities in history outside the framework of a historical society--please let me know!

Image:  Sophronia Bucklin, via the Tompkins History Center

Walk the Walk, not Just Talk the Talk

A colleague (thanks Linda KM!)  passed along a recent article by Carol Sanford in the Stanford Social Innovation Review about a new process by which the New Mexico Grantmakers Association is exploring whether--and how--philanthropic support meets the goals set out, or whether grantmaking sometimes produces unintended consequences,  just the opposite of real, responsible change.  The grantmakers group is looking at their work within a framework of five guidelines (quoted directly below):

1. Consider and fund with an eye to nested, whole systems rather than fixes for specific issues or problems.
2. Find “nodes of leverage”—conditions that can be changed with little effort in order to produce big results—rather than shotgun or priority-setting approaches.
3. Focus on developing personal agency by supporting the efforts of individuals to take accountability for their own lives, and to exercise entrepreneurship in creating businesses and in serving their communities
4. Measure effectiveness by how well systems change, not by the efforts made in pursuit of change.
5. Ensure foundations have integrity in all of their activities (for example, by fostering personal agency within their staffs).

I first read this thinking about different kinds of support for projects in Ukraine--watching international aid programs from a closer perspective has been a fascinating process.  But then I read it again--and realized that these five guidelines provide a road map, not just for funding, but for the development of a thoughtful, engaged museum.  Let's take a look.

Consider and fund with an eye to nested, whole systems rather than fixes for specific issues or problems.
I remember reviewing a long-ago grant application where a museum requested funding to purchase reproduction costumes--but it was clear that the site lacked substantive research and planning to even establish a time period.   I think of these projects as band-aids.   Because I work on the interpretive side of things,  I always hope that institutions will put everything on the table when we begin a conversation about new tours and other elements so they can make the kind of systematic change needed to create more engaging institutions.   I'm sure my collections colleagues would agree--conserving one object has to be balanced against system-wide efforts to improve environmental conditions.    And we're all familiar with those new outreach programs that exist for a year, due to funding,  and then disappear.   Thinking holistically and sustainably make a big difference--and of course, that's what planning is for.   A clear strategic plan, that's understood by all and referenced often can help ensure that change, not band-aids becomes the way forward.

Find “nodes of leverage”—conditions that can be changed with little effort in order to produce big results—rather than shotgun or priority-setting approaches. 
When I read this I thought first about museum entrances--both virtual and real. Those are the places that your audiences first encounter you--they are "nodes of leverage" and often changes take little effort.  Updating your website calendar or news.  Just a few weeks ago I went to look for something on a service organization's website and found their latest news--from 2007!  Make your entrance friendly,  have your open hours posted,  and train your staff and volunteers to be friendly greeters.  Huge differences in public perception could ensue. Then,  keep going with the changes.   This has to go hand-in-hand with the whole systems approach above.   It's a version of thinking globally (whole systems) and acting locally (those nodes of leverage).

Focus on developing personal agency by supporting the efforts of individuals to take accountability for their own lives, and to exercise entrepreneurship in creating businesses and in serving their communities
If you're a museum leader,  do you regularly say "no" to your staff's ideas?  Do you insist on micro-managing every decision (I know one museum where the director has to approve every single Facebook post)?  Or do you encourage, mentor and facilitate new ideas and accomplishments by staff, no matter what their position?  Can you make staff meetings places to share ideas and new approaches?   Despite tight budget conditions, is there still some funding and commitment to professional development?
 
Measure effectiveness by how well systems change, not by the efforts made in pursuit of change.
Ensure foundations have integrity in all of their activities (for example, by fostering personal agency within their staffs). 
I've had  some conversations lately with colleagues about what values are embedded in museums.  I don't just mean the ones that your values statement says, if you have one.  I mean the ones that are sneakier,  hidden in your history and organizational structure.  Do you divvy up your jobs into a number of part-time positions so you don't have to pay benefits?  That's a value judgment about your employees and their value.  If you're a director, do you hoard information from both your board and your staff?  That embodies a value.  Do you actively seek out collaborations and partnerships.  That's also a value in action.   I think we tend to think about values as warm, fuzzy things, when in fact, all values are not positive ones--and it's the not-so-positive ones we sweep under the carpet.

Do you work hard to attract family audiences and make your workplace family-friendly for your staff?  Recently I had a conversation with a colleague who remarked about how much she hated strategic planning,  because often it seemed all thunder and lightning--in pursuit of change--rather than actual change.  That's where a plan that has accountability and benchmarks really comes in--you need to be able to measure real change.

What five guidelines would you propose for a healthy, responsible organization?

Whose Story?

I've been working on my presentation for a session on narrative at the upcoming AAM conference.  Ken Yellis, Deborah Trout-Smith, Susie Wilkening and I will be coming at the topic from different perspectives.  I'm working on thinking about how narrative worked in Soviet museums,  how post-Soviet museums in Ukraine have maintained, adapted or jettisoned that structure, and what thinking about how a different place and culture view narrative might mean for my own work.    Big thoughts all, and not yet in a cohesive place (if you're at AAM,  please join us at our session, Imagining the Past Remembering the Future: The Role of Narrative in Museums on Sunday, May 22 from 4:15-5:30 for some thoughtful conversation around the topic.)

But narrative...I thought of it today as I went through the focus group notes for a local history museum I'm working with.  It happens to be a community I know well,  and I was struck by how many narratives had emerged.  Participants shared hints of compelling narratives about first jobs and first dates;  about teen tragedies and loss;  about the things you did that your parents wouldn't have approved of;  about the influence of well-loved teachers and coaches;  and about how bicycles opened the world to you when you were a kid.  

But fascinatingly,  the narratives from high school students were very different--more circumscribed in some ways.  They felt that there was not much ethnicity in the community (despite the fact that the census tells me residents claim more than two dozen ethnicities in their heritage).   One student  thought immigrants, to his definition, were only from Latin America;  and another thought immigrants just weren't relevant!  Narratives about ethnicity seemed absent from the students' mindsets,  but narratives about economic status seemed much more front and center; and some ideas about race were couched in those economic terms. Of course, it may just be that teenagers don't see very far beyond their own immediate concerns.  In a diverse adult focus group,  participants were much more willing to share their own narratives about race, discrimination, economic status and change.    One of the participants commented about residents who lived in a different part of the city, "You hated them...because they had everything and I had nothing.  I didn't even know them but I didn't like them."  

So how does all this connect to my thinking about post-Soviet narratives?  This local history museum's soon-to-be-redone and outdated permanent exhibit tells a single, straightforward narrative, from settlement forward.   The Soviet system mandated the single narrative approach;  many American museums arrived at single narrative without any dictate from a ministry of culture.   But this museum, like so many others, now has a tremendous opportunity to reach out into the community;  to listen to those stories, to find those narratives, and to, as one participant said, "Open the front door and be bold!" 

That's an opportunity no matter where you are.

Images:  FSA/OWI Collection, Library of Congress.  From a single small farming community, top to bottom:  Mr.and Mrs. Ben Harris, Mr. Miller, Mr. D'Annunzio, Mr. Mirki.

#gallery fsa2000022964/PP