Museum Neutrality Doesn’t Exist?

Overall, the opinions of the bloggers, museum presidents, and associations that we read for this week were in favor of museum involvement in current issues. From mission statements that called for diverse and inclusive staff and exhibits, to increasing opportunities for engagement with the community, every reading reflected the need for museums to be involved in civic engagement; particularly in regards to the most difficult and polarizing topics. I did appreciate the realistic honesty promoted by Trivedi in “Museums and #BlackLivesMatter”. I never participate in social media campaigns (such as #BringBackOurGirls or #ALSIceBucketChallenge) because I am not convinced  that they are super effective or done for the right reasons. Many of my friends on social media get swept up in hash tags and trends, but there is no action to back it up. I agree with Trivedi that, “Making statements in support of the current movements won’t fundamentally change the ways in which we relate to black people in our communities… If our actions don’t match our words, do they hold any meaning?”

Should museums be involved in social and political issues? It seems that for public institutions the answer is absolutely, yes. As public education institutions, museums have the obligation to use public funds to engage their audience in relevant discussions about issues that matter. Museums should be an open space that provide an opportunity for the public to get information, have conversations, and then form educated opinions.

Yet, what is the answer for private museums? I would argue that as places of learning, they should participate in the same way that public museums do. However, private funds can do as private funds want. Although the public uses these facilities, private museums are not beholden to the public in the same way that public museums are.

After an hour of trying to complete the assignment to find an example of a museum who had stayed neutral on a current event, I began to suspect that we had been set up! Not only was I at a loss for how to find an example that fit that bill, but I also came across many editorials that insisted on the impossibility of museum neutrality (e.g Museums Are Neutral Public Institutions…I Don’t Think So! and The Political Museum). It seems that museums fall in two camps; actively engaged in issues by fostering discussions or passively quiet on current events. If a museum falls into the “quiet” category, I would argue that they have in fact chosen a side. I agree with Desmond Tutu who said, “If you are neutral on situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.”

I thought of our conversation a few weeks ago about if a climate change exhibit or discussion could ever come to the Idaho State Historical Museum. We decided probably not. That omission does not mean that the museum is neutral; in fact, it means the opposite. Choices are calculated. The decision NOT to discuss something is as telling as the decision to include it.

 

 

Embracing the hard topics

I devoured this book. Most readings in Graduate school focus on theory and methods, so when we get to read one that has a historical narrative, I get really excited. I also learned a lot in this reading! For example, although I knew that George Washington owned many slaves, I had never heard the individual stories of Oney and Hercules. I knew nothing about the Liberty Bell’s history, and very little about Thomas Jefferson’s exploits. I enjoyed each chapter, but I was most drawn to John Michael Vlach’s chapter about his collection of D.C. photographs at the Library of Congress.

As a high school history teacher, I am constantly faced with navigating taboo or uncomfortable subjects. Students love to talk about the hard stuff and they do not shy away from it (unlike many adults that I know). I found the tumultuous reception of “Back of the Big House” frustrating and confusing. At first, Vlach described the removal of the collection with only a cursory explanation of “there were cries of protest by a number of the library’s African American employees” and he failed to give any specifics about the reasons. I think he did this on purpose to convey the confusion and surprise that surrounded the removal. What was the problem? What were they protesting? I was shocked to later find out that the main complaint from those African American employees was that they did not want a reminder of their painful past in their less-than-perfect work environment. Because the complaint was racially charged, the library’s management removed the collection quickly, without considering the validity of the complaints.

I constantly strive for inclusion, tolerance, patience, and understanding of diverse backgrounds in my classroom. However, I do not shy away from hard topics and I’m surprised that the Library of Congress would do so. I really appreciated the  quote from Washington Post critic, David Nicholson, who said, “To deny slavery is to deny the suffering of those men and women who were powerless to prevent their bondage… (and the protesters at the Library of Congress were) using their ancestors’ suffering to extort concessions from a majority white institution; (essentially using) cultural blackmail.”

Slavery is a difficult topic to present and museums and institutions could easily mess it up. But ignoring it and shuttling it off to a dark basement is just as bad (if not worse!) than bad interpretations.

Marrying Art and History

Letting Go? Reading Part 2

The bulk of our readings this week dealt with using artistic interpretations to tell history. I am not a particularly artistic person. I dapple in music, I can style a room, and I immensely enjoy theatre…but that is where my artistic abilities end. Despite my lack of ability, I deeply appreciate the arts and I enjoyed reading how artists were contributing to the historical field. I agree with Koloski in “Embracing the Unexpected”, that “creating genuinely interdisciplinary experiences for our visitors could be one way forward as we seek to engage their curiosity, and in the end, provide them with greater access to deeper and more potent historical and cultural experiences” (p. 280).

I loved the Mining the Museum project. The levels of learning there were so multifaceted! Taking artifacts (which are by themselves objects that promote learning) and arranging them in a way that not only showcases societiy’ biases and shortcomings, but also the museum’s, was such an interesting way to make an argument. I also enjoyed the Black Bottom project presented at University of Pennsylvania. Theatre is powerful and I am a sucker for historical fiction. I would love to be a part of this kind of exhibition.

That being said, I think bringing artists into a museum must be done with much care and planning. Curators, professors, and researchers have a depth of historical knowledge and skill that just cannot be trumped by a few months of specific research done by an artist. It seems like many of the artists that we read about in this week’s selection worked closely with museum staff to research and create a story. I applaud these efforts. I would caution against allowing an artist to present an exhibit as history without any oversight. For example, Fred Wilson, creator of Mining the Museum project, indicated that he was “not for shared authority”, which I find troubling. His exhibit was about exposing holes in the Maryland museum’s collection, so I think he is mostly justified in not wanting to share authority with the museum’s staff. However, it is important that artists understand that their artistic interpretation has an obligation to be truthful and inclusive. In order to promote innovative presentations that are also accurate, museums must carefully select and work with artists.

Deleting the “less than impressive” stories

In Steve Zeitlin’s piece “What are the best stories? Where can I find my story?”, he mentions in one brief paragraph that City of Memory plans “to re-curate the site periodically, leaving only the more interesting and substantive entries up permanently” (p. 40). I’m not sure what to think of this practice. On one hand, I can agree that some stories are more interesting than others. Curators of history are tasked with consolidating the whole story into a digestible and accessible format. When I research and write, I certainly choose to leave out certain antidotes, images, and data in favor of more interesting flavors.

However, I am also troubled by this weeding out of memories. Isn’t the point of these public projects to quantify stories, give ordinary folks historic power, and democratize history? Zeitlin rationalized this practice by stating that visitors won’t mind the elimination because, “stories we eliminate are precisely those to which the contributors did not give significant time or thought” (p. 40). I have a hard time buying this. As a curator, you might find a story less provocative or interesting than others, but that can’t mean that all “boring” stories were written haphazardly and without meaning for the author.

I understand the need to present a clean and organized site that features the most engaging stories up front. I would do the same. But I don’t agree with completely banishing the less than impressive stories. There should be an archive feature built into the site, where older, less desirable stories can find a home. This way you can build an exciting website, while still honoring all the stories that have been shared.