This week, we talked about the second half of Museum Revolutions, and our focus was on the following chapters:
15-Ecomuseums and sustainability in Italy, Japan and China: concept adaptation through implementation (Davis)
21-Visitors and learning: adult museum visitors' learning identities (Kelly)
23-Critical museum pedagogy and exhibition development: a conceptual first step (Lindauer)
24-Learning at the museum frontiers: democracy, identity and difference (Golding)
25-Moral lessons and reforming agendas: history museums, science museums, contentious topics and contemporary societies (Cameron)
28-Education, postmodernity, and the museum (Hooper-Greenhill)
Since this week's chapters tended toward explicit political projects and strategies for implementing them, much of our discussion consisted of making sense of the densely theoretical. Even in chapters where we examined particular case studies, a recurring sticking point for us was "But how does it work?" Although our group members hold strong feelings that learning should be empowering and equitable, we spent a large part of the evening thinking about what rang true for us and what didn't. In response, we also attempted to come up with some real-world examples of exhibits and programs that seemed to work in critically useful ways.
Most of us found that Davis's discussion of ecomuseums forced us to reconsider our stereotypes about what the terms "eco" and "museum" actually mean, although we all generally accept broad definitions of these categories. A key question that came out of this chapter was how to define audience and museum authority when the purported goal is to create sustainable, community-driven spaces and programs. Claire observed that the case studies Davis discusses recall the Yarmouth example we discussed last week--the issue is not only who is telling the story, but also which story to tell. Genny and Erin both helped to untangle the problem of leadership a bit, and they ultimately suggested that ecomuseum initiatives ought to be conceived in terms of what the local community wants, but with fiscal and strategic support from outside organizations and governing bodies.
While we saw other familiar threads in Kelly's work (e.g., Falk on visitor identity), we felt the chapter also worked as a continuation of our conversation about what it means to understand community. Nonetheless, we struggled to think of any exhibit that accomplished all that Kelly said exhibits ought to. The most productive comments came out of Kelly's contention that "visitors could also learn more about the concept of learning as well as their own learning processes and learning identity if they were encouraged to think about their learning image before they engaged with the exhibition" (p. 287). We struggled with this at first, largely because it was so difficult to think of a way to do this that would be appealing to visitors.
We eventually agreed that one way to think about such encouragement could be to create spaces for reflection, both before and after exhibition content. Because we started by discussing participatory options, I was reminded of Nina Simon's recent post on the LOVE exhibition at The Museum of Art and History, in which the museum used a gallery near the entrance as a space to begin thinking about content. In Simon's words, "We wanted to welcome people in a participatory way, so that hopefully, they would carry that same energy and enthusiasm for active engagement upstairs." Abby also made a compelling case for what we termed the Choose-Your-Own-Adventure layout of the Prohibition-era You Are There exhibit at the Indiana Historical Society. Specifically, she argued that because the "content room" (an area containing photographs, artifacts, and labels with a great deal of historical context) was explicitly laid out both physically and verbally as something to do before OR after the exhibit's first person experience, the visitor was encouraged to consider which order made more sense for his or her individual needs and learning preferences. Although such a consideration would not necessarily mean that visitors had thought about their "learning identities" in the way Kelly describes, Abby's description of the exhibit certainly squared with my own (and, it appeared, other group members') experience in the space.
We tried to extend the specificity of that conversation to our discussion of Lindauer's work, but we tended to frame our examples in terms of "what if..." rather than "...like this." We unanimously agreed that an especially useful part of this piece was a straight-forward and thorough overview of critical pedagogy's theoretical lineage; we found the specific divergences between constructivism and critical pedagogy to be of particular interest. Still, Erin, Alex, and Claire were somewhat dismayed by the lack of examples of how to implement critical approaches outside the realm of the humanities. How, for instance, should practitioners dismantle structures of oppression in science centers or zoos? As a group, we discussed the possibility of using scientific principles, interactive exhibit components (and, yes, even animals, although we agreed to try not to oppress them, either!) as entry points for thinking about how we know what we know--and how knowledge works in relation to technology, cultural change, and political and economic power. While we struggled with the concept of individualized meaning-making in these contexts, we ultimately agreed that it's the "how" and "why" of knowledge that holds the most promise for creating "transformative intellectual discourse" (see p. 313).
Stephanie also underscored that "the language of hope" (p. 310) is what really distinguishes the goal of such transformations. That is, we want to change things in pursuit of social justice, not simply criticize them. To that end, we spent most of the rest of the evening talking about the other side of authority: obligation. As Elee frequently reminds us, museums themselves do not do things; people who work in museums do things. We found this idea especially important in thinking about Golding's work, which focuses on specific museum projects meant to encourage collaboration and democratic ideals. Although we generally applauded the intention and execution of these projects, we found ourselves wanting more information about why staff members made specific choices about artifacts and course topics.
This led to some discussion of the practical barriers to fostering something as profound as long-term critical consciousness inside the informal, often short-term contexts of museum visits. We agreed, for example, that without the built-in structure of coursework that can (in the right hands, anyway) enable the same group of people to meet regularly and build trust and cooperation over time, the onus of creating comfortable, safe spaces falls squarely on museum staff. With that in mind (and acknowledging the need for long-term commitments to such spaces in museums themselves), we tried to come up with some analogous, if modest, first steps. Of our ideas, the one that held the most traction was--to no one's surprise in a room full of audience research nerds--evaluation at all stages of the museum experience. Just as Golding's chapter emphasized the importance of learner-identified content, we talked about the possibility for democratizing casual museum visits through more visitor input in what museums exhibit and how they do it. Although such a practice is not exactly revolutionary at this point, we agreed that it is one of the most readily available and easily convincing tools for empowering both visitors and museum staff at every level.
In our discussion of Cameron's and Hooper-Greenhill's chapters, we talked about the public impression of museums, both in terms of museums' supposed "apoliticality" (p. 331) and their residual modernist leanings. While Cameron contends (to our admitted chagrin) that "the majority do not want a radical democracy" (p. 340), we again discussed the possibility of the museum as a "safe place" in which staff members may deploy what Erin dubbed "the thermometer of morality." That is, if we cannot exist outside a hegemonic system, can't we, as Lindauer contends, at least "proceed with cautious humility...displacing the locus of authority" (p. 311) instead?
Next week, we'll dive in to Letting Go?: Sharing Historical Authority in a User-Generated World. Since we've got two weeks left, we have decided to leisurely explore the first 155 pages for Wednesday. I'll be back with the highlights next week. 'Til then, happy (and critical) reading!
DH
15-Ecomuseums and sustainability in Italy, Japan and China: concept adaptation through implementation (Davis)
21-Visitors and learning: adult museum visitors' learning identities (Kelly)
23-Critical museum pedagogy and exhibition development: a conceptual first step (Lindauer)
24-Learning at the museum frontiers: democracy, identity and difference (Golding)
25-Moral lessons and reforming agendas: history museums, science museums, contentious topics and contemporary societies (Cameron)
28-Education, postmodernity, and the museum (Hooper-Greenhill)
Since this week's chapters tended toward explicit political projects and strategies for implementing them, much of our discussion consisted of making sense of the densely theoretical. Even in chapters where we examined particular case studies, a recurring sticking point for us was "But how does it work?" Although our group members hold strong feelings that learning should be empowering and equitable, we spent a large part of the evening thinking about what rang true for us and what didn't. In response, we also attempted to come up with some real-world examples of exhibits and programs that seemed to work in critically useful ways.
Most of us found that Davis's discussion of ecomuseums forced us to reconsider our stereotypes about what the terms "eco" and "museum" actually mean, although we all generally accept broad definitions of these categories. A key question that came out of this chapter was how to define audience and museum authority when the purported goal is to create sustainable, community-driven spaces and programs. Claire observed that the case studies Davis discusses recall the Yarmouth example we discussed last week--the issue is not only who is telling the story, but also which story to tell. Genny and Erin both helped to untangle the problem of leadership a bit, and they ultimately suggested that ecomuseum initiatives ought to be conceived in terms of what the local community wants, but with fiscal and strategic support from outside organizations and governing bodies.
While we saw other familiar threads in Kelly's work (e.g., Falk on visitor identity), we felt the chapter also worked as a continuation of our conversation about what it means to understand community. Nonetheless, we struggled to think of any exhibit that accomplished all that Kelly said exhibits ought to. The most productive comments came out of Kelly's contention that "visitors could also learn more about the concept of learning as well as their own learning processes and learning identity if they were encouraged to think about their learning image before they engaged with the exhibition" (p. 287). We struggled with this at first, largely because it was so difficult to think of a way to do this that would be appealing to visitors.
We eventually agreed that one way to think about such encouragement could be to create spaces for reflection, both before and after exhibition content. Because we started by discussing participatory options, I was reminded of Nina Simon's recent post on the LOVE exhibition at The Museum of Art and History, in which the museum used a gallery near the entrance as a space to begin thinking about content. In Simon's words, "We wanted to welcome people in a participatory way, so that hopefully, they would carry that same energy and enthusiasm for active engagement upstairs." Abby also made a compelling case for what we termed the Choose-Your-Own-Adventure layout of the Prohibition-era You Are There exhibit at the Indiana Historical Society. Specifically, she argued that because the "content room" (an area containing photographs, artifacts, and labels with a great deal of historical context) was explicitly laid out both physically and verbally as something to do before OR after the exhibit's first person experience, the visitor was encouraged to consider which order made more sense for his or her individual needs and learning preferences. Although such a consideration would not necessarily mean that visitors had thought about their "learning identities" in the way Kelly describes, Abby's description of the exhibit certainly squared with my own (and, it appeared, other group members') experience in the space.
We tried to extend the specificity of that conversation to our discussion of Lindauer's work, but we tended to frame our examples in terms of "what if..." rather than "...like this." We unanimously agreed that an especially useful part of this piece was a straight-forward and thorough overview of critical pedagogy's theoretical lineage; we found the specific divergences between constructivism and critical pedagogy to be of particular interest. Still, Erin, Alex, and Claire were somewhat dismayed by the lack of examples of how to implement critical approaches outside the realm of the humanities. How, for instance, should practitioners dismantle structures of oppression in science centers or zoos? As a group, we discussed the possibility of using scientific principles, interactive exhibit components (and, yes, even animals, although we agreed to try not to oppress them, either!) as entry points for thinking about how we know what we know--and how knowledge works in relation to technology, cultural change, and political and economic power. While we struggled with the concept of individualized meaning-making in these contexts, we ultimately agreed that it's the "how" and "why" of knowledge that holds the most promise for creating "transformative intellectual discourse" (see p. 313).
Stephanie also underscored that "the language of hope" (p. 310) is what really distinguishes the goal of such transformations. That is, we want to change things in pursuit of social justice, not simply criticize them. To that end, we spent most of the rest of the evening talking about the other side of authority: obligation. As Elee frequently reminds us, museums themselves do not do things; people who work in museums do things. We found this idea especially important in thinking about Golding's work, which focuses on specific museum projects meant to encourage collaboration and democratic ideals. Although we generally applauded the intention and execution of these projects, we found ourselves wanting more information about why staff members made specific choices about artifacts and course topics.
This led to some discussion of the practical barriers to fostering something as profound as long-term critical consciousness inside the informal, often short-term contexts of museum visits. We agreed, for example, that without the built-in structure of coursework that can (in the right hands, anyway) enable the same group of people to meet regularly and build trust and cooperation over time, the onus of creating comfortable, safe spaces falls squarely on museum staff. With that in mind (and acknowledging the need for long-term commitments to such spaces in museums themselves), we tried to come up with some analogous, if modest, first steps. Of our ideas, the one that held the most traction was--to no one's surprise in a room full of audience research nerds--evaluation at all stages of the museum experience. Just as Golding's chapter emphasized the importance of learner-identified content, we talked about the possibility for democratizing casual museum visits through more visitor input in what museums exhibit and how they do it. Although such a practice is not exactly revolutionary at this point, we agreed that it is one of the most readily available and easily convincing tools for empowering both visitors and museum staff at every level.
In our discussion of Cameron's and Hooper-Greenhill's chapters, we talked about the public impression of museums, both in terms of museums' supposed "apoliticality" (p. 331) and their residual modernist leanings. While Cameron contends (to our admitted chagrin) that "the majority do not want a radical democracy" (p. 340), we again discussed the possibility of the museum as a "safe place" in which staff members may deploy what Erin dubbed "the thermometer of morality." That is, if we cannot exist outside a hegemonic system, can't we, as Lindauer contends, at least "proceed with cautious humility...displacing the locus of authority" (p. 311) instead?
Next week, we'll dive in to Letting Go?: Sharing Historical Authority in a User-Generated World. Since we've got two weeks left, we have decided to leisurely explore the first 155 pages for Wednesday. I'll be back with the highlights next week. 'Til then, happy (and critical) reading!
DH
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