The Most Pleasant Surprise: On Mentorship

I'm pleased to share this guest post from my mentee, Alicia Akins.  It seems hard to believe that just a year ago she was just an email in my in-box rather than a year's worth of great conversation. I had asked her to write her final post for me about her experience over the year and, as you see below,  she's given a great road map for mentees--and a call for more mentors.  One of my goals in 2014?  To actually have one of our conversations not just on the same continent, but in the same room!  (and, by the way, her project is coming to an end in Laos in the spring, so she's job hunting. If she's a fit for your organization, be in touch.)

I hadn’t really expected much to come of my application for a mentor.  At a seven-months into my first museum job at a small museum in a tiny country in Southeast Asia, I thought the chances of my being chosen were slim.  It was a pleasant surprise to be wrong and it’s been even pleasanter to experience the unfolding of one of the most supportive and encouraging professional experiences I’ve ever had. 

If you’re reading this and you’re considering applying, stop considering and do it.  The worst that can happen is that you’re not selected, the best is an opportunity to receive:

·      Introductions to relevant people in the field

·      An impartial third party to bounce ideas off of

·      An extra proofreader of fellowship essays, resumes, and personal branding materials

·      The wisdom of someone who’s been at it much longer than you

·      A platform for sharing your thoughts on topics you’re passionate about with a wider audience

We were both new to this: Linda, to mentoring and I to being mentored and we both learned a lot along the way. Here are several things I learned about the process:

1)   Know what you want to get out of the mentorship.  Like, exactly what you want.   How do you hope to grow in the next year as a result of your time together? Are there conferences you know you want to attend in the next year and you think you’ll need help putting a session proposal together? Will you be looking for a new job soon and will need to have your resume and cover letter reviewed?  Want to become more active on social media or thinking of starting a blog? About to implement a new initiative at work and want help thinking through logistics?

2)   Be realistic. There are a million things you could do, but you just have a year. Use that limitation to focus your time. I wish I had actually been more focused during the year.

3)   Be both honest and prepared for honesty. It was actually kind of refreshing.  If Linda didn’t like an idea she told me.  If she thought it was insightful, she told me. If she thought it was half-baked, she told me.  As I have not held back in sharing my challenges and aspirations, she has encouraged me at times to be more ambitious, and at times to be less ambitious (something mothers and peers rarely do!).

4)   Don’t be afraid to reach out. For a while in the beginning, I hadn’t wanted to intrude on Linda’s time.  I had thought of our mentorship strictly in terms of the hour a month we Skyped.  But eventually, after I emailed her in between those calls and she wrote back, I realized that Linda was available and willing to help with things as they came up even if it deviated from our planned times. After I got on Twitter, we’d sometimes connect over that.

5)   Relax. Linda is about as easygoing and personable as they come.  I was imagining a much more intimidating experience, at first. Despite being new to the field, Linda took my ideas seriously.  Though I’ve never met Linda in person, our conversations were surprisingly not awkward. 

Mentorship opportunities like this are few and far between.  As I’m planning for 2014 and looking for a new mentor, I haven’t found anyone else putting out advertisements for a mentee. The field would be a better if there were more opportunities like this. If you do apply and aren’t selected, it’s worth taking the time to reach out to others in the field and make the request.  Now that I’ve had a mentor, I don’t want to think about going back to the time when I didn’t.

To those who aren’t considering applying: consider accepting.   I think Linda’s experiment has proven that there’s a definitely a demand.  You don’t have to be writing a book and successful blog and have decades of experience to help someone. If you have those things, though, even better. 

Lastly, if you can’t find a mentor, get a group. Linda has Take 5, her career posse, that she’s written about before.

I’ve grown in confidence since starting out on this process and am looking forward to continuing my own mentorship journey. I hope that after reading this, you’re looking forward to embarking on your own, too.

Where are You Headed? Need a Mentor?

Wondering what's next for you?  In 2014,  I'm again offering the opportunity work with me as a mentor. My career path continues to evolve in unexpected ways. This past month I had the chance to speak at my own graduate program about it which served as a reminder that we all start somewhere and the path is often surprising. Everyone's path will be different, but hopefully I can be of some help along the way.

This past year's mentorship was an experiment.  A year ago, I put out a call for anyone seeking a mentor and had dozens of terrific sounding applicants.  I selected two,  and one of those, Alicia Akins, working in Laos, has gone through the full year with me,  meeting once a month via Skype and exchanging emails and tweets.  When I asked Alicia if she thought it was worth doing again, from her perspective, here's what she said,

I think you should absolutely do it again!  It was a really rewarding and encouraging experience for me and I'm sure it would be for anyone else. It was particularly meaningful for me as an emerging professional interested in international work quite isolated all the way over here in Laos.  The opportunities to guest post, be introduced to people, have an unbiased third party take my questions seriously, and to realize that in the midst of learning I could also be learned from have bolstered my confidence and helped me think more proactively about the future.  So yes, absolutely do it again!

And from my perspective, what did I gain?  Through the application process, I met a wide variety of new colleagues and had a chance to meet some of you in person.  I enhanced my sense of what the field is about right now for colleagues at different stages in their careers.  Alicia wrote a couple great blog posts (and another one coming up) and in our conversations, we covered topics ranging from diversity in the field, to project management, to working internationally. Each new person is an opportunity for me to expand my own world view--and Alicia definitely did that!

Here's the deal for 2014. 
 We'll schedule monthly Skype conversations at times convenient for us both, and you can apply no matter where you live or work or what stage of your career you're in.  From you, I'll expect three blog posts on deadlines we mutually set and of course, active participation and questioning.  In addition to the monthly conversations, I'll also provide feedback, introductions as I can, and loads and loads of opinions!

If you're interested, by December 21, send me an email (linda [at] lindabnorris.com) that includes your resume plus the following:

• One thing you're particularly curious about
• One thing you're passionate about
• Questions you'd like to discuss with me during the year
• A description of your first creative act 
• A time your reach exceeded your grasp
• When you work, do you love the process or the result?  Why?

A nod to Twyla Tharp's creative inventory for the last three questions. I'll make a decision no later than January 10, 2014.  Questions, ask away!

If I Ran a Museum in Kyiv, Right Now

A couple weeks ago, an American friend wrote to say she was moving to Kyiv for a year, and it gave me a funny bit of homesickness.  I thought of my very first cold January, including a chilly day at an outdoor museum, Pyrohiv with Irina and Bas;  of wanting to photograph some of the women on the subway, beautiful and bundled up so just their face showed;  of trying to puzzle out post-Soviet Ukraine with the help of my students at Kyiv-Mohyla;  of spring slowly coming with babushkas selling berries on street corners and chestnut blossoms everywhere.  But most of all, of course, I thought of colleagues and friends there.

Last week, Ukraine's president, under pressure from Russia, announced he would not move forward on a path towards membership in the European Union.  Since then,  the streets of Kyiv and other Ukrainian cities have filled with growing numbers of citizens protesting--not just that decision.  It seems citizens of all ages are fed up with the cronyism and corruption that characterize so many aspects of Ukrainian life.

But what can a museum do in such a situation?  Here's what I would do if I ran a museum in Kyiv right now (and, I should say, I know some museums are already undertaking a few of these efforts--and if you know of more, please share in the comments).    My thoughts fall into three museum spheres:  representing community values and ethics;  serving the community, and of course, collecting.

Values and Ethics
A number of museums, including the Ivan Honchar Museum and museums in L'viv, have already made public statements in support of the protestors.   Corruption and a wide variety of shady practices have weakened Ukraine's museums, as they have so many other civic institutions.  If I were a director I would make a public statement, but I would also take a look at the ethical practices and transparency of my own museum.  I would permit--and even encourage--the staff at my museum to take part in the protests if they so desired. (I've already seen photos on my Facebook feed of both directors and staff out at the protests).

Serving the Community
It's cold in Kyiv.  If I were director of a museum I would throw open my doors and invite the public in for free.  I would keep the museum open early and late.  If St. Michael's Monastery can be a place of sanctuary and support, why can't museums?  I would have cups of hot tea ready,  find all the battery phone chargers I could,  and provide a warm place for reflection and contemplation.  I might find a space in the gallery for people to write or draw about their hopes and fears;  and if especially motivated, I might install art in a gallery that encourages participants to think about Ukraine as a nation,  about beauty, truth and complicated histories.  If I ran one of the many literary museums, I might host readings that help us understand how Shevchenko's or Bulgakov's work has importance here.

Collecting
Ukrainians know far better than I about the perils of erasing the past.  Ivan Honchar, who founded the museum that bears his name, wrote repeatedly about the efforts of the Soviets to destroy Ukrainian culture through the destruction of artifacts and of course, many scholars over recent decades have brought to light  long-hidden and difficult parts of Ukraine's history for greater understanding.

If I were director of the Kyiv History Museum or the National History Museum,  here's just a few of the items I would be out collecting right now.

• EU flags and Ukrainian flags
• Tweets and Facebook postings
• Large metal barriers,  face-masked helmets and police uniforms
• Oral histories with everyone from Vitali Klitschko to Ruslana, from a protestor to a policeman
• Makeshift Red Cross shirts worn by those treating the injured
• Handwritten lists of people trying to locate other people
• Photographs, of course
• Home-made antidotes for tear gas
• And a vast array of banners and hand-made signs

One of the few remnants of the 2004 Orange Revolution is a single pillar covered with graffiti, shielded by Plexiglass, just outside the main post office.  When I first came to Ukraine in 2009 I heard about a proposed museum for the Orange Revolution and a large archives somewhere, but I never actually saw it, and the museum never materialized.  Only the lonely pillar on the same square where thousands now gather,  told that story. What story will be told of 2013 ten years from now?  or one hundred years?

The progress of Ukrainian museums over the last five years, despite many challenges,  has been quite amazing to me. I look forward to seeing them fully take their place in a newly energized civil society.
 

Update 12.3.13:  The Literary Memorial Museum of Paul Ticino in Kyiv has announced that they will be open for free for all who need warmth, coffee, tea and sandwiches and will continue this effort as long as needed.

Image Credits:  Top photo from the Kyiv Post;  center photos from EuroMaidan on Facebook and bottom photo via Nadia Parfan by Taras Khimchak.

Hey, Cranky Guy in the Back: This One's for You

This post is particularly for the unknown guy who sat in the back of the session I did with David Rau of the Florence Griswold Museum and my three colleagues from Harriet Beecher Stowe Center,  Shannon Burke, Beth Burgess and Brian Cofrancesco.  We each presented but then shifted to a more interactive mode and asked the audience to break into small groups and consider how different emotions might be presented at their site.  This guy turned to someone next to him and said, “I hate this part.  I’m out of here.”   

Sometimes I leave conferences discouraged about the field, worrying about new ideas and change, tired of whining.  But for some reason,  I left the NEMA conference a few weeks ago encouraged and really feeling that the answers to many of the tough questions that plague our field are actually within our grasp, if we dare to dream a bit,  have some courage, don't take ourselves too seriously,  understand that we are humans like our visitors, and importantly, including you cranky guy in the back, learn to work together.

What do I mean?  I heard all kinds of great creative ideas come out of these quick brainstorming sessions.  In our session we heard about how the emotion of optimism is expressed at a Shaker site, how a quarantine exhibit induced fear in Troy, NY;  and how one group could imagine that an exhibit of fine Newport furniture could really be an exhibit about resentment.  One participant whose group had joy, shared a great historic house object, telling of Nathaniel Hawthorne's and his wife's etched window glass.

In Anne Ackerson's and Joan Baldwin's session on leadership, based on their forthcoming new book,  Leadership Matters, Bob Burns of the Mattatuck Museum choked up (and choked many of us up) as he described the final burial of an enslaved African-American,  Fortune, whose bones had been preserved at the museum.  I was struck by the particular humanness of Bob's description of this final end to a long project.  It wasn't a just a story of curatorial practices or media relations, it was a story of being human, of treating others as we'd like to be treated.

At session tables and over lunch I heard conversations about so many different things.  Could pre-schoolers give tours at the Kennedy Library?  Could a botanical garden connect twenty-somethings to the landscapes used by the people who make our clothes around the world?  How could museums more effectively use the Power of 10 to make ourselves into real community places?

All these ideas--and so many more-- often require little or no money.  But they do require a a bit of small bravery, passionate commitment to place, to community, and to, yes, cranky guy in the back, working together to create something different. 

 

Join the Conversation: Museums, Politics and Power

This week, amidst plans for both Thanksgiving turkey and IMLS grant applications, I'm very pleased to announce the launch of a new project I'm involved in:  the blog, Museums, Politics and Power.  Katrin Hieke and Kristiane Janeke from Germany and Irina Chuvilova from Russia,  and I have initiated this blog with support of the ICOM committees in Russia, the U.S. and Germany as a run-up to the tri-national conference, Museums & Power in St. Petersburg, Russia in September, 2014.

Our plan is to use it together with you, our colleagues around the world, for networking and conversation about issues that concern all of us. We imagine and hope that the blog will be useful both to conference participants and to those whose attendance at the meeting is not possible for any reason, still want to creatively participate, spur ideas forward, and use the virtual networking opportunities.   Guest bloggers on any related topic are enthusiastically invited, and you can submit a blog post in English, German or Russian.   Have an idea for a session proposal?  (some travel funding may be available) --the blog can be a place to share your initial thoughts for feedback from colleagues?  Can't attend the conference but have an issue in your museum or nation that you want to discuss in this forum?  Please do.

You will also find us on Facebook and Twitter using the hashtag #museumspolitics. We're looking forward to the conversation!

Risk, Reward and Rainey: What I've Learned about Collaboration

What would you do if someone you barely knew emailed to ask if you wanted to write a book together?  A risk, right?  And imagine the risk that the person who wrote that email took? Last week Rainey Tisdale and I are celebrated the publication of our book, Creativity in Museum Practice.  At the same time, I've just finished facilitating a series of workshops for museums and libraries that, among other things,  looked at successful collaborations.  So I thought it might be just the time to share a bit about our work together and the ongoing lessons I take away from it. 

I first met Rainey virtually, in 2010, when we were both Fulbright Scholars—I was in Ukraine, she was in Finland, but we were both thinking deeply about museums.  We shared some emails and began reading each other’s blogs on a regular basis.  We had an interest in creativity and I remember Rainey sitting in the back of a crowded NEMA session two years ago asking a question about creativity.  We found time for a drink at that same  conference to really begin our conversations and continued to email tidbits back and forth, follow each other on Twitter and began to have that sort of virtual relationship that develops with many colleagues.  But at one point,  I emailed Rainey something and said, “You know, I think there’s a great book to be written about creativity in museums—you should do it!”  No risk on my part right?  She should do it.

But then Rainey took a big risk—she emailed back to say she thought we should do it together, and did I want to talk about it.   It took a high tolerance for risk for Rainey to email me,  and a slightly lower tolerance for me to say sure, let’s talk about it.  And thus began our regular, almost weekly Skype calls.

We moved pretty quickly from a theoretical collaboration to a concrete one,  wanting to meet with publishers at an upcoming AAM meeting.  We shared back and forth some initial notes about ideas on the book and came up with a brief proposal.  We then decided on a publisher—Left Coast Press—and negotiated a contract.  In the contract process, we learned a great deal—about ourselves, each other,  the emerging world of e-publishing and more.  We also went ahead and signed a joint collaboration agreement between the two of us, wanting to make sure that each of us had a clear understanding of responsibilities and benefits (we weren’t particularly worried about movie rights, but you never know).

• Lesson #1 For all you potential collaborators out there, take the risk,  but work to make sure that all of you have the same understandings.  We did both and are thankful for both. 

• And #1A:  look for collaborators that have different skills and approaches than you do.  We hadn’t, until this point, in summer 2012, talked much about the actual writing process.  We just began from our chapter outline, which proved, relatively quickly, wrong. Just wrong—not compelling, not the approach, not what we were hoping for. 

• Lesson #2:  Admit failure, embrace it, and move on.  When it became clear that our initial approach wasn’t working, we didn’t insist on keeping at it, we abandoned it, learned our lesson, and moved forward. It was both our ideas and both our writing, so there was no blame to be assigned.  We were really partners.

Our writing and thinking processes are very different:  Rainey is organized and thoughtful, diving deep into ideas and pursuing threads to weave those ideas into a whole.  I can be described, perhaps, as a hunter-gatherer (or perhaps just a squirrel), out there picking up bits and pieces that I then bring home and try to assemble into a whole.   As it turned out, these were really complementary work approaches that led to the complete reframing of the book, including some theory, Try This, and Your Creative Stories. 

• Lesson #3:  Trust the other person; trust yourself. We each had times when we felt discouraged or stuck. When the ideas weren’t coming or they didn’t hold together or we didn’t have something to say.  It’s an amazing process to have a great partner along the way, whose bad days don’t coincide with yours.  So those weekly Skype calls helped us cheerlead each other all the time.  Good ideas, crazy ideas, family stories, we shared them all (and that's why there are creativity temporary tattoos to be had.)
• Lesson #4:  Admit what you’re not good at –-but make sure you pull your weight.
• I am not good at detail work.  (I feel like I should be Bart Simpson writing that 100 times on the blackboard).   When it came time to those final details—getting it ready for the copy editor and the dreaded indexing,  Rainey firmly but gently said, “You know, I’m better  [and as I learned, in fact really, really, good] at this.  Let me do it—because I know you’ll do other parts.”    Rainey’s gift of that particular statement made me realize that pulling your weight doesn't mean doing everything equally, it means understanding how skills and temperament can divide the work.

It was thrilling last week to hold the book in our hands.  We got a different kind of chill down our spines when we discovered a problem and had to scramble a creative solution to our scheduled booksigning.  But amidst that scrambling, Rainey turns to me and says, "I can't tell you how glad I am that we're in this together."

• Lesson #5  A good collaboration pays off.  And Rainey was absolutely right.  I am so glad we were in this together;  that her willingness to take a risk,  that my own willingness, and that our own commitment to a creative process made a book we're proud of.  So now, buy the book,  check out our website, and invite us to talk about it!   

Many thanks Rainey! 

Go the Wrong Way: My Travel Advice

This year, I've been lucky enough to visit 13 different countries in North America, Europe and Asia,  mostly, though not exclusively, through my work with Context Travel.  I've learned alot about myself, and about being a traveler, and thought I'd share a few of those thoughts (not necessarily new or original to travelers) with all of you.

Go the Wrong Way
This is true in so many ways.  Going to the Vatican Museum?  Explore, as Martina and I did,  some amazing and uncrowded Egyptian and Etruscan collections.  Going to Venice?  Take the turn away from St. Mark's Square to, very easily, find yourself walking along an uncrowded street, along a tiny canal and into a square with local kids kicking around a soccer ball.   The world has become a well-traveled place, but even in those most-traveled places,  there are still secrets and delights to be found.

Use the Train
Or the bus, or the tram,  or whatever form of public transport the locals take.  Overnight train rides in Ukraine have provided me with more than one indelible memory.  I've now done rush hour metro rides in cities like Beijing, Tokyo and Rome.  Take your time, ask for help, and just do it.   You'll feel a part of city life in a different way and keep down your environmental footprint.

Stay Somewhere Different
A ryokan in Kyoto,  a neighborhood apartment in Florence. a tiny Paris hotel with a cat-themed lobby, and a friend's apartment in the Pigneto neighborhood of Rome.   Each one led me into a different neighborhood and unique experiences, different than any hotel chain could ever provide.  When you stay somewhere like this, also make sure you check out the neighborhood and make a place your own.  Go to the same place for coffee every morning;  visit the same little wine shop or greengrocer.  Even for only a week, you'll feel a tiny bit like a local.

Be Nice
It seems like this should go without saying but as I watch my fellow travelers I can see it's not always the case.  I really don't speak any other language, other than a few phrases, and I'm amazed at how nice and helpful people can be.  In Beijing,  I was on a subway train headed, I thought, to the airport.  But I wasn't--and I only learned that because a young couple spotting my suitcase and my probably confused expressed, came back on the train to lead me off and direct me to the right platform.  Same thing happened in Berlin coming from the airport.   Niceness and a smile, sappy as it sounds, repay exponentially.

Be Curious
It's a big world out there, and often people are thrilled to share their knowledge with you. Ask questions.  Ask about the food you're eating,  the objects you're seeing,  the neighborhood you're in.  You'll be surprised at how many people take the time to connect with you, in whatever language the two of you can figure out, to share their pride in their community.

Eat Locally
Restaurants are just like hotels.  Big chains provide food like everywhere.  Boring.  Try and seek out what and where local people are doing.  I'm not always successful in this,  but English language bloggers almost everywhere love food, so check out recommendations in places you're headed to.  Order what's in season and try some of those foods outside your comfort zone.  Along with eating locally, seek out local festivals.  Above, my Context colleagues Martina and Carolyn enjoy a street festival in a Roman neighborhood.

Access Local Knowledge
There's lots to learn no matter where you go.  I've been tremendously lucky to be able to go on Context walks--but you can do that too.  Read about where you're headed before you go. I'm a big fan of reading fiction or non-fiction about the place you're in.  Shanghai appears entirely different while reading Death and Life in Shanghai by Nien Cheng and Venice acquires a mysterious fog while reading Donna Leon's Guido Brunetti mysteries.

Make Connections
There are museums everywhere.  I've become braver about getting in touch with unknown colleagues if I'm headed their way.  The results this year:  an amazing snowy and museum-filled day in Berlin with Katrin Hieke (resulting in a new collaboration we'll be announcing soon);  a chance to speak to staff at the National Ethnographic Museum in Beijing, and thanks to Elizabeth Merritt at the Center for the Future of Museums,  an inspiring,  lively, fast-paced conversation with the director, James Bradburne and other staff members at the Palazzo Strozzi in Florence whose innovative projects are setting a great standard.  And the follow-on advice:  stay in touch and always, always, say thank you!

Take Risks
I don't mean bungee-jumping or getting drunk on a park bench, but I have clambered aboard a moving train in Ukraine and hopped aboard a tea shop owner's scooter in Shanghai for a trip to the ATM.  It's been my experience, repeated over and over again around the world, that people are basically good and that your willingness to try something new, something you might not do,  can result in indelible memories and often a shift in your thinking, a reconsideration of the world.  Be open.

And what else?  pack lightly,  buy the thing you love when you see it,  and pay for the data plan on your phone.  Google maps public transport option has often gotten me from place to place!

What's your travel advice?  What else do you want to know?