Read this article about the International Banana Club and Museum.
This seemingly inane article actually poses a fascinating question: what is a museum? And, depending on that definition, does the International Banana Club and Museum really count as one?
First, a definition. Dictionary.com defines a museum as "a building or place where works of art, scientific specimens, or other objects of permanent value are kept and displayed." What an ambiguous definition! "Objects of permanent value" can mean almost anything because any object is bound to be valuable to someone in some location. The origin of the word "museum" doesn't help a tremendous amount either. According once again to dictionary.com, the word dates to 1605 and refers to a building devoted to learning the arts. But as the Mutter Museum makes obvious, museums effectively cover many more areas than just the arts.
I prefer the definition from the American Association of Museums. It argues that all museums must make a "unique contribution to the public by collecting, preserving, and interpreting the things of this world." The key word? Interpreting. A museum has to be more than just a repository for the world's stuff. It has to tell us what all that stuff means and why it matters. Museums should help us to learn something about ourselves and our pasts. To use the word "museum" freely and without abandon does a disservice not only to the cultural institutions that do preserve and interpret objects, but to the individuals who work so hard and with so little recognition to do so.
26 March 2010
23 March 2010
To Arles and Beyond
A few days ago, I stumbled on a fantastic blog about the restoration of Van Gogh's The Bedroom.
The blog is so fantastic because it does exactly what a museum's blog should do - it informs the public about the work they museum is doing and how that work gets done. Very few people understand what restoration, conservation and preservation entail. The amount of time and money these processes take probably seems ridiculous to them. Filling in the gaps in the public knowledge is one way to gain support for the institution. When a member of the public understands a museum's function, and sees that it has meaning and value, he or she will be more likely not only to visit, but also to support the institution.
Well done, Van Gogh Museum.
The blog is so fantastic because it does exactly what a museum's blog should do - it informs the public about the work they museum is doing and how that work gets done. Very few people understand what restoration, conservation and preservation entail. The amount of time and money these processes take probably seems ridiculous to them. Filling in the gaps in the public knowledge is one way to gain support for the institution. When a member of the public understands a museum's function, and sees that it has meaning and value, he or she will be more likely not only to visit, but also to support the institution.
Well done, Van Gogh Museum.
20 March 2010
Futhermore...
One additional thought about the Mutter Museum.
The stated purpose of most museums or historical societies is to educate the public and to preserve art or historic objects. What does it mean for a museum to educate the public? On a basic level, a museum wants the visitor to understand things like how a fid or seam rubber is used or how Pablo Picasso revolutionized the art world. A museum visitor should exit the building having learned something.
I would argue, however, that that something should be more than basic facts or historic timelines. Museums and historic sites should always teach one something about him or herself. Because art and historic objects are three-dimensional and therefore tangible, they possess a sense of naturalism that history books and labels simply cannot replicate. They are the "living" remnants of times and people long since gone. Nancy Moses, former director of the Atwater Kent Museum in Philadelphia (which is, incidentally, on my list of places to visit) once said that historic objects are "very powerful, infused with meaning, for they tell us who we are as individuals and as a society; they connect us with our past." [The book is called Lost in the Museum: Buried Treasures and the Stories They Tell. It is delightful. Look into it.] Historian David Lowenthal agrees, and claims that "a past lacking tangible relics seems too tenuous to be credible." [The Past is a Foreign Country; also a fanstastic read.] Therefore, in order to fully understand the past, one has to understand historic objects. Why bother to understand the past? Because it is impossible, or at least very difficult, to understand who you are and where you have come from without a comprehension of the past.
What does this mean? In essence, it means that a visitor should leave a museum having learned something about himself or herself, not just bits of trivia.
What does this have to do with the Mutter Museum, you ask? The majority of the museum's collection is not historic objects per se; rather, it is a collection of bones, organs and tissue. But how better for a visitor to understand from where he or she has come than by understanding the human body and how it works?
The museum represents material culture with a fascinating twist, which gives me one more reason to return.
The stated purpose of most museums or historical societies is to educate the public and to preserve art or historic objects. What does it mean for a museum to educate the public? On a basic level, a museum wants the visitor to understand things like how a fid or seam rubber is used or how Pablo Picasso revolutionized the art world. A museum visitor should exit the building having learned something.
I would argue, however, that that something should be more than basic facts or historic timelines. Museums and historic sites should always teach one something about him or herself. Because art and historic objects are three-dimensional and therefore tangible, they possess a sense of naturalism that history books and labels simply cannot replicate. They are the "living" remnants of times and people long since gone. Nancy Moses, former director of the Atwater Kent Museum in Philadelphia (which is, incidentally, on my list of places to visit) once said that historic objects are "very powerful, infused with meaning, for they tell us who we are as individuals and as a society; they connect us with our past." [The book is called Lost in the Museum: Buried Treasures and the Stories They Tell. It is delightful. Look into it.] Historian David Lowenthal agrees, and claims that "a past lacking tangible relics seems too tenuous to be credible." [The Past is a Foreign Country; also a fanstastic read.] Therefore, in order to fully understand the past, one has to understand historic objects. Why bother to understand the past? Because it is impossible, or at least very difficult, to understand who you are and where you have come from without a comprehension of the past.
What does this mean? In essence, it means that a visitor should leave a museum having learned something about himself or herself, not just bits of trivia.
What does this have to do with the Mutter Museum, you ask? The majority of the museum's collection is not historic objects per se; rather, it is a collection of bones, organs and tissue. But how better for a visitor to understand from where he or she has come than by understanding the human body and how it works?
The museum represents material culture with a fascinating twist, which gives me one more reason to return.
19 March 2010
No Bones About It.
My apologies for the bad pun. It was too easy. As promised, here are my thoughts about the Mutter Museum:
1. The museum is, as it claims to be, "disturbingly informative." For those of us who don't routinely look at livers, tibias or slices of brains, the exhibits are not only visually stimulating, but also packed full of information about medical conditions about which most of us know very little. Better yet, the exhibits manage to be interesting and informative without being text-heavy.
2. The Mutter does something very similar to the Mercer Museum in Doylestown, PA: it attempts to be a "museum of a museum." In other words, the museum looks much like it did at its inception; it self-consciously maintains the same organizational style and explains to the visitor its reasons for so doing. While the Mercer takes this to the extreme (it goes so far as to explain integrated pest management systems and accession numbers), the Mutter does an excellent job of helping the visitor understand how museums work on a deeper level.
3. Although in most cases, the labels found a happy medium between too much and not enough text, there were frequent typos. I found three, and I wasn't looking for them.
4. I'm probably just being picky, but I could have done without the special exhibit "Corporeal Manifestations." Because of space issues at the museum, the exhibit felt like an afterthought, stuck off to the side. Also, the exhibit exit funnels visitors into the gift shop. Normally this is fine, but because of the exhibit layout, one can go through the exhibit, exit through the gift shop, and then have to re-enter the galleries. The route I had to take was slightly confusing, very circuitous and mildly irritating.
On the whole, however, the Mutter provides a great experience. I enjoyed the Museum enough to recommend it to several people today.
Go forth and be disturbed.
1. The museum is, as it claims to be, "disturbingly informative." For those of us who don't routinely look at livers, tibias or slices of brains, the exhibits are not only visually stimulating, but also packed full of information about medical conditions about which most of us know very little. Better yet, the exhibits manage to be interesting and informative without being text-heavy.
2. The Mutter does something very similar to the Mercer Museum in Doylestown, PA: it attempts to be a "museum of a museum." In other words, the museum looks much like it did at its inception; it self-consciously maintains the same organizational style and explains to the visitor its reasons for so doing. While the Mercer takes this to the extreme (it goes so far as to explain integrated pest management systems and accession numbers), the Mutter does an excellent job of helping the visitor understand how museums work on a deeper level.
3. Although in most cases, the labels found a happy medium between too much and not enough text, there were frequent typos. I found three, and I wasn't looking for them.
4. I'm probably just being picky, but I could have done without the special exhibit "Corporeal Manifestations." Because of space issues at the museum, the exhibit felt like an afterthought, stuck off to the side. Also, the exhibit exit funnels visitors into the gift shop. Normally this is fine, but because of the exhibit layout, one can go through the exhibit, exit through the gift shop, and then have to re-enter the galleries. The route I had to take was slightly confusing, very circuitous and mildly irritating.
On the whole, however, the Mutter provides a great experience. I enjoyed the Museum enough to recommend it to several people today.
Go forth and be disturbed.
18 March 2010
Stay Tuned...
I never thought I would end up starting to write a blog but since it appears that I have...
Welcome to Going Beyond the Glass. My goal: to share my thoughts about museums and historic sites without boring anyone who should choose to read them.
Although my background is in collections, I have recently found myself working in visitor services, a development which has given me a new perspective on museums and historic sites and the ways in which they present themselves to the public. It has allowed me to think differently about what museums do that does and does not work, as well as how to make visitor experiences more productive and enjoyable.
So here it is. Feel free to suggest places that I should visit in the Philadelphia area and to disagree with my observations. First up: the Mutter Museum and the Penn Museum of Archeology and Anthropology.
Welcome to Going Beyond the Glass. My goal: to share my thoughts about museums and historic sites without boring anyone who should choose to read them.
Although my background is in collections, I have recently found myself working in visitor services, a development which has given me a new perspective on museums and historic sites and the ways in which they present themselves to the public. It has allowed me to think differently about what museums do that does and does not work, as well as how to make visitor experiences more productive and enjoyable.
So here it is. Feel free to suggest places that I should visit in the Philadelphia area and to disagree with my observations. First up: the Mutter Museum and the Penn Museum of Archeology and Anthropology.
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