Friday, October 21, 2011

Museum Review: South Florida Museum

Last week I drove down to Bradenton to visit the South Florida Museum--which also houses the Parker Manatee Aquarium and the Bishop Planetarium.  I was excited about the visit, which I'd been meaning to do for a long time, but I was also super-excited because I made it there in time for Snooty's 1pm feeding, and I am a huge sucker for manatees.  [ed note: do not mock!  They are most closely related to elephants, they feel like a wet football when you touch them, they have no natural predators, and they can eat a head of romaine lettuce in one gulp.  Pretty much the best sea mammal out there.]

While I was there for the manatee aquarium, I was also excited to see the rest of the museum's collections, which are pretty eclectic.  So I paid my admission and walked into the main hall, where I was excited to see a huge replica mastodon skeleton dominating the room, with a nice diorama of hunters and bison in the background.  It was a really nice first impression of the museum, but it didn't last all the way through.  I really loved the feel of that first hall, but my impression of the rest of the museum isn't quite as favorable.

Okay, dioramas are cool, and giant shark jaws are cool, but they just don't quite go together...
I think my issue with the the South Florida Museum was not its collections, nor the way they were displayed.  I think what was lacking was a sense of cohesion.  As you stepped from one hall to the next, there didn't seem to be a rhyme or reason as to what came next, and there was no obvious path through the exhibits that would allow a visitor to see everything easily.  Okay, to be fair, the map they handed me with my ticket has a suggested route, but I don't think it was very intuitive.  At one point you walk past the gallery of first peoples' artifact through a door that looks like an exit in a courtyard that was, at the time of my visit, completely deserted.  The courtyard is the home of Snooty's underwater viewing tank, though, so I had a good few minutes watching the manatees--and then realized I was late for the feeding and ran upstairs to catch the remainder of the manatee talk.  This left me upstairs in a kind of mishmash of galleries--a river diorama, drawers of random portions of the collections (cleverly labeled "Visible Storage," which I quite liked), and then through an interesting series of galleries with old medical equipment.  I completely missed the 1500s Spanish House and Chapel, largely because I thought they were storage spaces when I saw them outside in the abandoned courtyard.  I wish there had been some clearer signage alerting visitors what was through those doors.

And you know, this visit made me realize how totally subjective museums are.  Because the South Florida Museum isn't really doing anything wrong.  Their collections are a mishmash because they're a relatively small facility and had most of their exhibits donated.  So while giant shark jaws and old ether bottles don't really go together, no museum is going to say "No" to a donation of either one.  And you know, if I'd followed the map they gave me instead of shoving it in my camera bag I would have seen more of the exhibits--but I would have missed learning that Snooty's favorite treat is apples, so there would have been a trade-off.  I love the idea of putting a rotating display of random items from collections on display to the public, and I think that exhibit could have been really successful if there had been a bit more signage and a couple fewer artifacts--it was sort of overwhelming to look at everything in that big case and I found myself glossing over lots of it.  it wasn't until I looked over my museum map to write this post that I even realized what the intent of that case was.  But the idea of that case is ingenious, and with some clearer labels it could really be the type of display that visitors get involved with.

In the end, I enjoyed myself at the South Florida Museum, for all that there were somethings that I would do differently.  It was an interesting exercise to visit another small local museum of which I had no prior knowledge.  There's not a lot they could do to change their collections or displays, and as a result the South Florida Museum is a good illustration of a lot of the challenges smaller museums face.  (Perhaps more museums should house awesomely personable manatees?  Just a thought...)

For me, this visit brings two issues into focus for me.  The first is how museums can better communicate to their guests.  This means communicating how best to see the collections, what to expect, and what events are going on that day.  The second issue is labeling and text panels.  I am a HUGE proponent of interpretive text that informs the visitor without talking down to them.  Had there been a clear sign by the Visible Storage case explaining the purpose, and labels for each of the items, I would have spent my whole day there.  It will be an interesting exercise to look at how these same issues play out in my own museum, and try to look at our displays from the perspective of a visitor who doesn't know what she's walking into.

Monday, October 17, 2011

Overheard

at the South Florida Museum in Bradenton:

"I've been to George Washington's home more often than to many of my friends' houses.  Probably had a better time there, too."


Francis Jukes' painting of Mount Vernon

...only at a history museum, folks.

Friday, October 14, 2011

A present for your weekend

Go here, and then follow every darn one of them (especially @SUEtheTrex, I have to show some hometown pride).  Then go here: and here: #tweetmuseumexhibs.  


You're welcome.




Wednesday, October 12, 2011

What's the main goal of a museum?

This seems like a simple enough question, but it has hidden layers.  For some museums (Banana Club Museum, I'm lookin' at you...) the aim is simple: collect items around a central theme and display them.  They are not on the cutting edge of banana research, they are not preserving important banana artifacts that would otherwise be destroyed, they're not making the public aware of the long cultural traditions of the banana.  They're just collecting banana stuff, putting it on display, and inviting people to come take a look.  It's not a bad thing by any stretch--those little museums can be a lot of fun.  But it allows them to skirt some of the deeper, more existential issues other museums can get caught up in.

For example: is a museum's primary purpose to preserve artifacts, or to educate the public?  Should they focus on conservation, or exhibitions?  Is it better to teach the visitors something new, or to make sure that they enjoy the time they spend at the museum?  Should new research take priority over increased publicity and marketing?

It's a chicken-or-egg conundrum that goes back to some of my earlier questions.  You can't maintain collections without a source of revenue, and you can't bring in enough revenue without appealing to paying visitors (or getting substantial private or government funding).  So how should a museum prioritize all of those important facets?

Personally, I'm torn.  As I mentioned last week, I owe my career and love of museums to a program that many institutions might see as superfluous.  I'm sure if you asked the curator in charge of the hall where I fell asleep in my green sleeping bag after a night of exploration, he would rather have more money for the preservation of the artifacts I was entranced by rather than education programs that allow 6-year-olds to scare themselves silly in mock Egyptian tombs.  But coming (as I do) from a retail and visitor-oriented background, I can't help but seeing the interaction the public has with a museum's collection as equally vital to an institution.  ...Well, maybe not equally vital.  If I was told that an artifact would deteriorate beyond repair if it was put on display, but could be used for research and study if kept in storage, I could accept that.  What I think I couldn't accept would be not making an effort to serve both purposes.

What do you think, small, but apparently loyal readership?  What facets of a museum are the most important?  When tough times hit, what gets cut and what gets saved?  It's only a partially rhetorical question--many institutions face this exact choice right now.

Saturday, October 8, 2011

A brief history of my history with history museums

My history with history museums starts with this guy:

My dad bought this figurine for me when I was six years old.  I picked it out from all of the other glass animals in the small little gift shop that is still on the ground floor of the Field Museum several hours before it opened to other patrons after one of the best nights of my life.

My family had always been a museum-going one, and my parents made it a point to take my sister and I to a big museum every time we were in the city.  So I was primed and ready when my dad told us that we--along with a hundred or so other folks--were going to spend the night at the Field Museum.  It was a part of a program called "Dozin' with the Dinos," where parents and children come in to the museum after it closes with sleeping bags and pajamas and do crafts, take tours, and explore the museum late into the night.  Basically it is a little kid's dream come true.

It was almost twenty-five years ago, so a lot of the details a blurry.  I remember going to orientation in the big theater and having a security guard tell me that I wasn't allowed to touch the bronze statue I was touching.  But more than just yelling at me, she took a moment to explain that the reason I couldn't was because the oils on my little hands would damage the metal.  I haven't touched a statue since, scout's honor.  I remember trying to pick the very best spot to lay out my threadbare green sleeping bag, and ending up next to this guy:
At that time the Pawnee Earth Lodge was still in this hall, but it's otherwise unchanged. One of my favorite things when I worked at the Field was when an errand would take me through this hall and I could walk past the same spot I'd set up my sleeping bag so many years ago.  My family set up with a few other families we knew and a bunch of other people we didn't, and then set out to explore the museum.

Looking at the program now, we must have had some workshops, there was dinner and a midnight snack at some point, and we probably made some crafts, but I don't remember any of that.  What I remember was that some time around midnight (an inconceivable time to my tiny mind) they turned off the lights and told us any further exploring would have to be done by flashlight.  My dad armed Sister and I with flashlights and we set off to go through Ancient Egypt.

I don't think I will ever be closer to the feeling a scientist on the verge of a discovery has than I did that night.  It didn't matter that we'd been through that exhibit dozens of times in the well-lit day--every artifact was newly-discovered in the wavering beam of my flashlight.  It was the most terrifying and exhilarating night of my life to that point, and while the details have faded over the years, that thrill of discovery and excitement lingers.  And I've been lost to history museums ever since.

The next morning Dad let me pick out a figurine, and I've kept that little leopard with me ever since.  Every time I look at it on my desk I'm reminded of that night, and it makes me excited to try to bring that same feeling to other little kids.  And while I'm sure that art museums and science centers bring the same joy to others, for me it's always going to be the history museums.  They've been blowing my mind for as long as I can remember.  Seriously: dinosaurs.  mummies.  life-sized adobe pueblos and honest-to-goodness meteorites. lions and tigers and bears and little glass leopards. Oh, my indeed.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Fun Photo...Wednesday

Man, I am not good at planning.  If I were better at alliteration I would have saved this feature for Friday.  Oh well!

As an effort to continue working on my photography and my fancy-pants camera, I'm going to try to feature museum-related pictures I've taken at least once a week.  This week's images are from the Out of This World opening at the Tampa Bay History Center this past weekend.
No special techniques, just a fun behind the scenes image
The blurred people surrounding the Storm Trooper were an accident caused by the low lighting in the gallery, but I really love this image.


Blurrier than I'd like (again, really low lighting in the gallery and I don't have a tripod yet), but I think this captures some of the wide-eyed wonder that I love to see in museums.

This blur actually was on purpose in an effort to make a static gallery appear a little more dynamic.  I think it turned out well.

Again, no photographic skill, just my very favorite image of the whole day.  A happy Imperial family heading home.

Monday, October 3, 2011

Mission: failed :(

This last Saturday the Tampa Bay History Center opened its new exhibit, Out of this World: Extraordinary Costumes from Film and Television.  The opening event included an 'invasion' by brilliantly-costumed Star Wars re-enactors (...can you re-enact a war that didn't really happen?), a brave defense by the outnumbered Rebel forces, and some Ghostbusters thrown in for good measure.  It was an unusual event for the History Center, but meant to bring in visitors who might not normally be interested in a regional history center.  I thought it was the perfect opportunity to continue my ambassadorial project of bringing new people into museums.  The History Center did okay, but I failed utterly.  None of the friends I contacted about the parade and exhibit made an appearance.

Okay, so I only contacted three friends, it's not like I was abandoned by everyone I every met, but I was still sorry they didn't make it.  And a big part of the reason I was sorry was that it was such a fun day.  It was an amateur production, sure, but everyone was having a great time, and the exhibit has some great costumes that I think my friends--big Star Wars and sci-fi fans all-would have been really stoked to see.  (Darth Vader's helmet!  Indiana Jones's jacket!  Burt Ward's Robin costume!  Margaret Hamilton's Wicked Witch of the West hat!)  I had hoped--much like the History Center probably hopes--that these artifacts of pop culture would have lured in visitors who are less interested in the artifacts of Florida's early people, but apparently not even a real honest-to-goodness working life-sized R2D2 was enough to make it happen this time around.
 


Which sort of begs the question, what does it take to get these reluctant museum-goers in the door?