Shanghai Points of View

At the American Alliance for Museums meeting in May,  I served as an ambassador to three young  Ph.D students from Fudan University in Shanghai: Jolie Zhu, Cherry Li and Erica Fang. This was their first trip to the United States and they also found time to visits museums in New York City and Washington DC.  I was interested in their perspectives on US museums and the conference, so they were good enough to sit down with me on our last day in Baltimore.  And finally, a minute from me to get the post up!

Jolie’s research focus on is on museum education and particularly in lifelong learning.  Erica wanted to understand exhibition assessment and learn about the exhibition  awards and Cherry was interested in learning more about various museum assessment programs.  Overall, at the conference and in their museum visits, they were impressed by American museums commitment to informal learning—that they think about education, independently, as a way to attract visitors.  They found museums and museum colleagues here open-minded, and wanting to communicate in a casual way.

In Washington,  they made a tour of almost all the Smithsonian museums and enjoyed all the ways it was possible to interact in a museum—from the butterfly house at Natural History, where butterflies soared around them,  to Air and Space,  where audience members got the chance to simulate flying a plane.

Most memorable perhaps though, was the ceremony at American History where visitors of all ages participate in folding a reproduction of the Star Spangled Banner.  “So very many students and so very moving.”

And  one of the best parts about my new colleagues?  I’ll be in Shanghai in September and get to see them again!  I look forward to learning from them about their city's museums. I love being an ambassador at the conference and As AAM continues to expand an international presence at the conference, it's a great opportunity for US professionals to delve deeper into other approaches and points of view to our common work.

Really? Questioning Mission Again?

Guest Post  Jason Illari is Grants Administrator at the Fire Museum of Maryland.  But he's also active in local historical societies and the Small Museum Association.  In this guest post,  he takes on the issue of mission and historic houses.  We both look forward to hearing your thoughts on this evergreen, but always important, issue.  Comment away!

"If we did not have a house, would we still have a mission?"  I know I am not the first to bring up the subject of mission in historic house museums,  but I've puzzled over this query and a curious response to that question given to me during a historic house consultancy.   It's taken me some time to formulate my thoughts about the question and why it matters. 

A dear friend and colleague met me for lunch one day to discuss the future of the house in question.  To provide some context, the organization was facing some serious challenges and we were brainstorming about mission, future plans, interpretation, etc. The colleague commented on the last of preventative maintenance afford the structure and then sincerely, lightheartedly but tellingly remarked, "well, I guess if something serious were to happen to the house, we would just eventually fold the organization and move on." 

In other words, I understood my colleague's statement to mean that the organization's mission was so intricately tied to the structure that without the original house the organization would become obsolete.  I assure readers that this colleague had no ill will fir the organization--on the contrary--they were one of the home's chief proponents.  I hemmed and hawed over the comment like any good museum professional would.  Yet, dare I say that after years of contemplation, I have begun to understand why the comment was made.  At its core, my colleague's observation speaks volumes about how stewards of  historic house museums relate to mission and also how a community views an organization charged with caring for these structures.

If mission is an institution's metaphorical pulse or heartbeat,  then I believe it must be lovingly monitored, studied and occasionally revived within the body of an institution.  I think about what doctors and nurses do every time I step into their office. Like some dull mantra, the first thing I hear is, "Time to check your pulse Mr. Illari."   I have found that asking one simple question:  "If we did not have a house would we still have a mission?"  to community members, board members, staff and volunteers and visitors is an effective way to stimulate conversation about the meaning and importance of mission.  Another thought-provoking exercise, albeit an awkward one, is to read out loud the mission statement multiple times, interspersing it with similar mission statements to drive home a particular point, like redundancy or uniqueness.   Then sit in silence for a minutes, a few days or even a few weeks before talking about it.  Meditation is not a dirty word and a period of reflection may be really useful and drive thoughtful conversations forward.  Maybe someone will say,  "why didn't I think of that?"  and help create meaningful change.

In my opinion, the reason to monitor mission and ask these tough questions is not to abruptly change an instititon's course with every fad or whim, but to ensure that the overall vitality of an organization is maintained through sustainable relevancy.  If we are constantly questioning why an organization seems lifeless, decade after decade, maybe a thorough examination of mission is in order and a change is long overdue.  To me, sustainable relevancy means striving to cultivate a mission that is designed to foster long-term relvancy based on trends, future studies, community input and other social sciences while always keeping in mind the mandate to preserve, collect and interpret.  Yes, we are in the business of caring for things that matter!

Museum thinkers have been mulling over these ideas almost ad nauseum, but we should remind ourselves that it's OK and even essential to meditate on the effectiveness of our missions and question their relevancy.  What makes them timeless or transcendent?  What about them articulates a desire for positive action or lift up a neighborhood or community of interest?  Are we really using or leveraging our mission when we ask for support?  Are we trying to over-complicate our mission and be something we're not?  Maybe our one, true purpose is to tell the story of footstools, but maybe our mission might also articulate the desire to inspire genuine laughter to uplift weary hearts and minds while telling the footstool story.

Where we run into trouble I think, is by trying so hard to find the perfect answer to the historic house "riddle"  that we lose sight of the importance of asking more creative questions. I think this is especially true for many historic house museums that are desperately trying to find their place in a world that, quite frankly, is over-saturated by houses with run-of-the-mill missions, patina-ed with uniqueness, in the same way, that the house's unprovenanced furniture carries the same dull patina.

As historic house museums become increasingly involved with the American Alliance of Museums Continuum of Excellence and their call to examine core documents, including mission--I would like to offer that staff and boards can freely use the questions above to stimulate conversation about mission.  Jot down the answers and I'm willing to admit that new ideas about mission will emerge.  Oftentimes the answers we seek are hidden in the questions we ask.  So what questions have you asked lately?

Linda's written insightfully about mission here at the Uncataloged Museum over the years--and it's certainly worth revisiting them.

Abandoned building via Flickr user takomabibelot

Footstool and dog,  Library of Congress

Pulse taking from The Welcome Collection

What's Next, Donetsk?

 

It seems hard to believe that spring was just arriving in In late April, when my Hungarian friend and colleague Gyorgyi Nemeth and I spent just over a week in Donetsk, Ukraine, under the auspices of a Cultural Manager Residency with Eko-Art, a local NGO.  Now, as full summer has arrived here in the Catskills, I've finally found some time to share our thoughts on the visit.

Our goal was to learn as much as we could about the industrial heritage of the city, to share some ideas about how it might be presented, and to meet with as many interested people as possible.  You can read more about our experiences in previous blog posts (here and here) but we wanted to share widely our observations about potential opportunities and next steps.  This post will focus on the more intangible aspects of heritage and possible presentations; a following post by Gyorgyi will focus on the built environment.

What's Happening Now

The industrial heritage of Donetsk is amazing—pure and simple.  It represents a substantial opportunity for a Ukrainian city to take on aspects of history that currently do not receive much focus in other cities.  There are a number of  individuals and organizations working to preserve and share the history and heritage of industrialization in different ways:

• Izolyatsia is in a former insulation plant and has made a name for itself by working with both international and Ukrainian artists to create site-specific works.  Their 2011 exhibit by Cai Guo-Qiang was one of the most memorable experiences I’d had in a long time.  The creative staff has begun working to collect oral histories of the plant as time permits and the site and city continue to provide fertile ground for site-specific work.
• The Regional Museum has a chronological exhibition, done in the 1980s,  of the history of the region, including the industrial history.  The industrial exhibition is a bit dated but contains some intriguing objects and archival materials.  The collections and education staff at the museum were very generous with their time and very interested in hearing about other industrial history projects, asking us to share our perspectives on the museum and future possibilities.  2013 marks the second year of the Night of Industrial History in Donetsk, an evening that brings a number of organizations together to create events focused on the history and the Regional Museum is a key participant. 
• The Metallurgical Museum is located in a building just outside the gates of the metallurgy plant itself.  We understood from the director that there are plans for a new, expanded museum.  As currently composed, the Museum is a static, old-fashioned exhibition.
• While we were in Donetsk, the city government announced that they would be restoring the John Hughes' (Welsh founder of the metallurgical plant and the city) house (currently in private hands) for use as a museum, but no details were announced as to what the museum would be about or what it would contain.
• Journalist Yevgeny Yasenov is the primary author of http://www.donjetsk.com/.  Here he encourages the sharing of photographs and memories,  wanders into and documents the current state of historic spaces.  Yevgeny was kind enough to sit down with us for a bit in the Park of Forged Figures for a wide-ranging conversation (and thanks go, as for our entire Donetsk experience, for interpretation by Anya Kuzina).  We covered lots of ground, but of particular importance was the fact that, as everywhere in the former Soviet Union, there is no history and little motivation for communities to work together to preserve their own history.  In that way,  this and other online efforts, including one by Daniel Lapin who showed us Hughes house,  represent a way to reclaim history from scientists and scholars, many of whom still embrace an older way of thinking. 
• We found it challenging to find much scholarship about industrial history in Ukraine—artist Paul Chaney shared some information he’d found from UK historians and museums, focusing on John Hughes.
• And of course, Eko-Art, our sponsor for the visit, now has an expanded interest in the ways that industrial heritage can build a sense of community.

Industrial History is Everyone's Story

When we began working with students at the Lyceum, several people doubted that those particular students, headed towards university, would have any direct connections to mining or metallurgy.  But they did—every one had a family member or neighbor who had worked in the mines.  This reinforced to us that industrial history is everyone’s history in Donetsk.   In the student projects, they shared photographs, memories, archival materials and objects that together, can help to create a nuanced, multi-faceted understanding of the community’s past and help to inspire conversation about the future.

So What’s Next?

The opportunities are limitless and we hope that organizations work together to increase an understanding.  Gyorgyi will talk in a later post about what can be done to preserve the built industrial heritage, but here are just a few suggestions to begin preserving and sharing the city’s history .

• Involve young people in the process of collecting oral histories.  By training students to conduct oral histories, it expands the range of workers for inclusion and helps to build a broader understanding of the changing nature of industrial work in the city.  These individual stories help move the history from “the workers”  in a generic sense to a more complex, nuanced understanding that includes many voices and perspectives.  It shares the authority of telling that history, moving it from a single perspective to a broad, complex view.
• Begin a process of collecting material culture related to industrial work over the last fifty years (generally, not much is represented from 1960 on in museums).  Collect workers’ clothing, documents,  material from social clubs, and more.
• Develop outdoor exhibits and signage that draws attention to the history.  Students suggested posters on trams to attract an older generation (because they go so much slower than marshrutkas they are less crowded and people have time to read).   Interpretive panels could be on bus stops or pop-up exhibits in the city’s many well-kept parks.
• Building on the current web presence, expand the work of museums and local avocational historians on the web, in Russian, Ukrainian and English .
• Develop walking tours (either guided or with downloadable audio guides) that highlight the city’s industrial heritage.
• As Izolyatsia is already doing, continue to embrace ways in which contemporary art can lead to deeper explorations of the region's history.
• Work with the local tourism agency to establish industrial heritage as an asset.  Consider establishing an industrial history working group to share ideas and approaches within the city.
• Continue to expand international connections such as those already developed by Izolyatsia and the Regional Museum.   Consider partnering with Donetsk's sister cities including Pittsburgh, PA and Sheffield, England.  There’s no question that industrial historians and enthusiasts worldwide view Donetsk’s history as something of enormous interest.

And finally, citizens of Donetsk, embrace your industrial history the same way you embrace your football team!

Over-Estimate? Under-Estimate? What do We Think of our Visitors?

A couple weeks ago I spent a Saturday armed with a clipboard and post-it notes at the Harriet Beecher Stowe Center in Hartford, CT.  I'm working with them on interpretive planning and the interpretive team (Shannon Burke, Beth Burgess, and Brian Cofrancesco--that's Brian above at left and Shannon at the end of the post) wanted to know what visitors knew about Stowe and Uncle Tom's Cabin;  how they thought about some tough issues like faith and race relations;  and what they would want to ask Harriet herself.

We talked to more than 150 people that day and on Monday, when we did a debrief,  Shannon made an observation that I continue to think about, and will carry it forward into my work.

"I think we over and under estimate our visitors,"  she said.  I looked at her a bit curiously, and she continued,  "I think we overestimate the knowledge they come with and their interest in deep details and underestimate what they're up for."   And I think Shannon is absolutely right--and the real trick in compelling, effective, creative interpretation is to figure out the ever-changing balance between those two poles.   For me, the best way to find that balance at your own museum is to actually get out there and talk to people, as Stowe Center did.

Many of us overestimate:

• The knowledge our audience arrives with.  For instance, few of us have actually read Uncle Tom's Cabin so knowledge of the plot is pretty hazy.
• Their willingness to absorb large amounts of detail while standing up (this goes for labels and guided tours!)
• Their interest in the distinguishing details of objects.
• Their willingness to be "taught" to as opposed to free-choice learning.
• In historic houses, their interest in one bedroom after another (unless of course, ghosts are involved!)
• The need for technology in every situation.

Many of us underestimate:

• What our audiences are up for in terms of innovative experiences.  They can probably cope--and more accurately might enjoy and learn from-- a historic house that includes a mix of period rooms and exhibit spaces.
• Their willingness to consider big ideas as a frame for their museum experience.  When we asked visitors at Stowe House what one question they would like to ask Harriet Beecher Stowe, the vast majority of visitors we spoke to had a version of the same question:  "How did you find the courage to write this book?"   That's a big important question and well worth considering.
• Their interest in details.  Yes, I know this seems contradictory to an overestimate above, but it's true, some of our visitors want to delve deep so we need to find ways to make that deep-diving accessible but not compulsory.
• The willingness of audiences to engage with stories of lives very different than their own--and their abilities to, with skillful facilitation, make fascinating connections and parallels.
• Interest in the real thing--the authentic object particularly when the object has a compelling story.

From your perspective, what do we over- or under-estimate?

Diversity and Reciprocity: Who Decides?

I'm very pleased to share this guest post by one of my mentees for 2013,  Alicia Akins.  Alicia is currently Programmes Director at the Traditional Arts and Ethnology Centre, Luang Prabang, Laos.   Alicia's emerging career provides great evidence that a wide range of experiences can enhance and expand your view as a museum professional.   She has an undergraduate degree in music education, a MA in international studies, and time spent in China and now Laos.  Our monthly Skype conversations have certainly taught me as much as I have shared,  and as you'll see below, our talks have been wide-ranging, from how to encourage staff to how cultural colleagues in the US are addressing issues of diversity.  We both look forward to your comments on this post.

As I’ve been following the discussion about diversity in the arts over the past several months, I have been struck by two assumptions: first, that lack of diversity is a problem exclusive to white institutions and second, that there is something particularly alienating about whiteness that keeps others from participating in the arts. While I don’t claim to have a solution for diversity, I hope only to add what others have brought to the discussion: another perspective—that of a female black millennial with a lifetime steeped in the arts and other cultures.

It's not an uncommon story, that of a black person being derided by other blacks as “acting white.”  I’ve heard it myself many times before. It’s a both problematic and damaging viewpoint. The implications of what this accusation means, both about the white majority and about my own group, have stuck with me since first hearing it over two decades ago.  Just how much does whiteness have to do with consumption of culture? What are the dangers of diversifying? Is diversity the most recent addition to the white man’s burden? Can arts institutions successfully operate under a separate but equal framework? Who really benefits from diversity?  Where does diversity come from/flourish?

An example from sports

It is not arts institutions alone that have tackled the issue of diversity.  Universities, the entertainment industry, government and other areas have raced to diversify as well.  But it’s the example of sports that I find most interesting.  No, sports don’t fall under the same category as arts, but they are legitimate leisure alternatives.  Different sports tend to attract different demographics.  Golf, hockey, tennis and skiing for example are all very white sports and their costs are the most obvious barrier to entry. Participation, however, is rarely ever influenced by a single barrier, and cost might not be the biggest hurdle to overcome.

Coaches and managers have tried to change these trends.  Initiatives within each of these sports have sought to attract wider participation.  But, the alternative is not nonparticipation in sports.  To the contrary, there are many sports that are dominated by minorities: track & field, basketball, boxing, American football to name a few.  So what benefit is there in having professional black hockey players, or Middle Eastern tennis players, or even recreational ones as long as people are active?  Is there an advantage to playing one sport over another?   What if, in addition to cost, underrepresented people are opting out due to the social reasons?  They want to play what their friends play? What if they prefer sports where they’ll get more respect and prestige for being good? Or what if they are choosing sports based on role models from their group? There would be a definite problem if they were being excluded but diversity is not just about access, it’s about interest as well.

Are you interested in Chinese opera?  If you heard enough of it would you be interested then?  And if you decided that you loved it and started practicing it, would droves of other white kids start doing it too because all they needed was one positive role model?  Does the world need more people practicing Chinese opera?  Would it be a step forward and a credit to racial progress if non-Chinese started to play Chinese musical instruments? Would that validate the practice?  Would it confirm the art form’s relevance? Are you hoping that your kids will grow up in a world where they can dream of achieving that kind of musical artistry one day, not to feel intimidated to try because of the color of their skin or other factors that make Chinese opera inaccessible?

What happens when we mistake a lack of interest for a lack of opportunity? I think everyone looses.  I believe most efforts to diversify are nonreciprocal. Many are aimed at breaking down financial, intellectual, and cultural barriers minorities and underrepresented groups might have to “Western” arts.  Are ethnically oriented institutions doing outreach to gain a larger white audience?  White privilege assumes white people don’t need to be reached out to because they lack the constraints—financial or cultural—that prohibit participation. Are different minority groups reaching out to each other in the ways they do participate in and consume culture to draw out the rich parallels of experience they might have? Without reciprocity, I fear that attempts to diversify will lead to more homogeneity with all interests coalescing around mainstream notions of creativity, culture and art. 

I am sure that organizations and individuals are busy putting their best creative energies into coming up with solutions.  I just don’t know if the time would be better spent asking better questions about what diversity means and should look like for our field.  One place to start might be in evaluating their own beliefs that their particular form of art is critical to a high quality of life.

Images from Flickr, top to bottom:

• Fence by Spence Lawn
• Track and Field by Phil Roeder
• Chinese Opera by Ronald Targa

Where's Your 21st Century Community?

If you're a local or regional history museum,  what are you documenting about your local community today?  You might be collecting flyers,  or hand-made quilts, or signs from downtown stores.  But this summer, my husband, Drew Harty, has embarked on a project that's made me both think deeply about our communities today and wonder about their future.  And what, we as museums, might be doing about this.

Drew's spending three months looking at and photographing those places that we see almost every day, but we really almost never look at--those retail landscapes at the edge of your town--at the edge of really almost every town and city, large and small.   He's undertaken this project because he wonders,

What have we lost as towns across the country look increasingly the same? Are Retail Landscapes changing our standards for what is unique and beautiful in our communities? Are these places that are so familiar to all of us changing our expectations of what a community should be?

What could a history museum do to further this conversation?  I think we need to go deeper than just exhibits highlighting once thriving Main Streets.   Perhaps we could engage in conversations about beauty,  or projects that encourage a thoughtful exploration of placemaking.   Could an exhibit highlight the places all of the goods in our community come from?  How can we encourage young people to think beyond the shiny newness of strip malls and big boxes?  How can we force ourselves to go beyond a simple, class-related dismissal of these places ("oh, I never shop at Wal-Mart") to creating our museums as an alternative, as a place where everyone in our community feels as welcome as they do at Wal-Mart?

Drew's speculated at what viewers one hundred years from now will think about these images.  Will they be as quaint and outdated as those horse and buggy main streets?  Or will they be so, so, so familiar that shots of fields, farm and neighborhoods are the true exotics?

So, museum folks, what say you?  And, by the way, you have until midnight, this Wednesday, June 19,  to help Drew's project along the way by supporting him at the crowd funding site USA Projects and you can see regular updates on his Tumblr feed.

Guerrilla Interpretation, Mall Edition

Over a long, lively dinner of crabs and beer at AAM, Andrea Childress of the Atlanta History Center surprised us when she mentioned she'd been thinking about interpretation and those hurricane simulators you see at malls.  I was fascinated, encouraged her to consider a blog post about her thoughts, and she went even further, conducting a little fieldwork, as you'll see below.  If you're in the DC area and looking for a creative, fearless museum educator, Andrea's relocating there this summer, so she might be just the person for you!  

The Right Tool in the Wrong Hands

On a recent shopping trip to a suburban mega-mall, I discovered a peculiar machine sandwiched between the Food Court and the H&M store. Not a coin-operated hobbyhorse or a photo booth, but a contraption called a  “Hurricane Simulator.” People are paying $2 to experience 78 mph winds in a mall, only a year after Hurricane Sandy ripped through the eastern seaboard. Hurricane Simulator claims to have 1000 + of these machines in malls and other “fun” locations around the country.

The first time I realized the true power of experiential education was in grad school. Dr. Causey had ten of us, all teachers-to-be, lay down on the ground- shoulder to shoulder. We had never been this uncomfortably close to each other. We each read one line from the diary of a slave who survived the Middle Passage.

"When they put us in irons to be sent to our place of confinement in the ship, the men who fastened the irons on these mothers took children out of their hands and threw them over the side of the ship into the water."

As each line was uttered, one after the other, I heard someone crying softly. It was one of my African American classmates. There we were, in a university classroom, lying on cheap Berber carpet. But we were transported back to the 1700s and to a place of empathy I didn’t know was possible, as a result of an educational experience. Designing simulations to strike an emotional chord has been my passion ever since. I have been fortunate to have a museum job that has allowed me to keep experimenting with the power of this tool.

So when I saw the Hurricane Simulator I couldn’t help but wonder about what people were thinking as they got their hair whipped around and gasped for breath. What was the aim of the company that produces the machine? My frustration had to do with the problem of context. Situating the simulator in the mall trivialized the topic of hurricanes and neutered its ability to provoke thought. What power this machine could have if set within an interpretive space! I imagined an exhibit about Katrina. The space leading to the simulator would set the scene:

“You’ve heard the warnings to evacuate on the news. Many of your friends have left town to stay with relatives. But your mother is in the hospital with a serious condition. She cannot be moved. Do you stay with her or leave your house and belongings for safety?”

The visitor could then make a decision by going into one of two rooms. The “Staying” room would contain a Hurricane simulator, but bigger and with a few more effects: sounds like sirens, shouting, and explosions. And the lights would flicker and go dim to mimic loss of electricity. In the dark, the visitor has to find the pet cat. Then the wind would start getting stronger.

Shortly, a recorded rescue voice would beckon them to the next interpretive space. This space would tell the story of the aftermath. Perhaps the visitor could listen to oral accounts from eyewitnesses or learn about the scientific causes of hurricanes. Are they likely to occur more frequently with increased global warming? It has always been my experience that simulations not only aid in triggering empathy, but also leave people craving more knowledge.

I wanted to try an informal experiment with the Hurricane Simulator at the mall. Could some very simple interpretation affect people’s ability to empathize? I lurked nearby the simulator for about an hour interviewing people about their thoughts after their 30-second bout with the fake hurricane. I asked a 12 year-old kid if he thought about the effects of a real hurricane while in the simulator. He said, “What is a hurricane, again?” It was obvious that people were aiming for a fun experience – an adrenalin rush. I decided to add a couple of very crude text panels with photos of destruction to the transparent door of the machine. Guerrilla labeling, let’s call it.

I noticed that after the text panels were added, people always looked at them before entering the machine -- sometimes for a few seconds, sometimes for a few minutes. Sometimes they read the panels and then left without going on a ride. When asked what they remembered from the panels, they often could cite very little. But they seemed more likely to mention a thought connection to real hurricanes. “I was thinking this must be only half of what people really must have felt,” said a 15 year-old girl.

They were still in it for the fun. It’s a mall, for crying out loud. But the experiment scratches the surface of the importance of interpretation to shape, strengthen, and guide a hands-on experience. Many museums are now incorporating interactive elements into their exhibits. And as they continue to experiment, I would like to submit a few questions for consideration:

• How is this experience framed by the interpretation to encourage the kind of powerful moment we want visitors to have?
• Are we harnessing the power of the tool of experiential learning or are we just capturing people’s attention?

Examples as food for thought:

-       “Operation Spy” at the International Spy Museum

-       “Follow the North Star” at Connor Prairie

-       “Sensing Chicago” at the Chicago History Museum

-       “Indiana Experience: You Are There” at the Indiana Historical Society 

-       “Ghosts of a Chance” at the Smithsonian AmericanArt Museum (2010)

As I read Andrea's post, I was reminded that I had actually seen an exhibit a bit like this--Weather Permitting at the Minnesota Historical Society has lots of fun elements, but also includes a multimedia experience in re-created basement as tornadoes rage overhead.  Simulated, scary and thoughtful. LN