Museum Review: Objects Tell Stories

Objects Tell Stories. First Person Museum, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.  Protoytpe exhibit of an itinerant museum organized and curated by First Person Arts, a Philadelphia-based non-profit organization.  

According to its mission statement, "The First Person Museum is a collaborative effort, encompassing the creativity and dedication of artists, writers, photographers, historians and community organizations throughout the city of Philadelphia."  The museum is designed to have both a live, itinerant component and a coordinating yet unique online presence.  The prototype live exhibit, Objects Tell Stories, was viewed on November 16, 2010 at the Painted Bride Art Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and will be open from November 5 through December 18, 2010.  This review will discuss the live exhibit only.

The First Person Museum aims to be a "museum of the people."  Objects Tell Stories displays beloved objects, and most importantly to the organizers of the project, highlights the story and the person behind the object.  Collaboration is more than a goal in a mission statement; its the method used to understand the interaction between people and objects.  It begins with a group approach to exhibit design, implementation, and curation.  Thirteen museum team members are identified, supported by additional staff from First Person Arts.   Drawn from the greater Philadelphia area, these consultants are museum professionals, storytellers, media experts, and historians, each with his or her own training and approach to object/person interaction.  The First Person Museum appears, above all, to be an ideological attempt to marry these methods of representation into an experience that simultaneously defines and builds community, a goal that is only occasionally fully achieved within this first exhibit attempt.

The exhibit is housed within the Painted Bride Art Center, an ideologically practical location as the Bride's mission statement also highlights collaboration.   Three separate spaces are used within the center: a long gallery beyond the entry way and welcome desk, a half loft above that space, and along the edges of an adjacent, multi-purpose room.  Signage explaining the concept of the museum and detailing its community nature is placed at the entrance to each of the first floor spaces.  In the front of the main gallery and in the loft are desks set as interactive stations.  Guest books allow for comments.  Preprinted cards invite individuals to write their own object stories and create a conceptual link between the live exhibit and its virtual sister.  These cards are then pinned to a bulletin board above the desk.  Interestingly, a choice was made to keep the link only representational.  There is no mechanism for directly accessing the online exhibit and placing a description of one's own object there while standing in the company of its tangible neighbors.  

The first visual impression of the displays observes stereo-typical 1950s middle-America upholstered, dark-wood furniture set in groupings throughout the gallery space.   Closer examination indicates a pattern for each grouping: object, item of furniture on or in which it is placed, lighting, a seat of some sort, and two text panels.  Some groupings have an additional audio-visual component.  

Objects are housed in plexiglass, most in box cases sized to match the object.  The three pieces of clothing are displayed in the top, open, plexiglass-covered drawer of a dresser.  Seats are visually part of the grouping - a sofa in front of the coffee table holding the object or a chair in front of a desk serving the same purpose.  Lighting is also part of the scene. A reading lamp hugs the end of the sofa; the supports a column lamp.  The larger text panel is always mounted on the wall and contains a quote from the owner of the object and his or  her picture.  The quote may be an extract from the audiovisual component of the display or may be all one is given of the story behind the object.  The smaller signs are uniform in shape, layout and content.  Each has a circular logo "a bit of history" stamped on it, a title, a fifty word object history, and the name of the Public History at Temple graduate student who wrote the text.  

This marriage of items is another collaboration, an attempt to integrate personal story with object histories using multiple media.  All settings include the elements of first person story and third person background (both written), pictures of people, and physical objects.  Another element is added to some displays - more story, presented in the individual's own voice, either through a recording (listened to through headphones) or a video (displayed on a television screen.)  This attempt is admirable.  The result in this proto-type experiment is mixed.  

When a thread of commonality can be drawn between the object and story, the display triggers emotion and additional thought.  Good examples of this synergy are Kathy's Pendant and Shanise's Stuffed Rhino.  The theme of jewelry as currency grounds the viewer in Kathy's story, while bringing into question or memory the larger social contexts of the early 20th Century.  The brief history of drug promotions explains why Shanise's doctor has a stuffed rhino to hand while laying the ground work for the reader to question the ethics of such a gift.

In general, adding video or sound gives depth to the stories.  One can actually see or hear the person sharing their object.  This connectivity draws the viewer in.  However, when a disconnect happens, it is even more jarring.  Kate's Shawl is the least cohesive display and unfortunately the first in the main traffic pattern.  Its visual message is unclear and listening to the audio extends the confusion.  The sign quote introduces the emotion of items being passed down through generations of family members.  The history describes the function of a Mexican shawl.  The audio recording mentions the former but moves the setting from Mexico to the elite world of Philips Exeter prep school and introduces concepts of American class disparities that are not addressed anywhere else, leaving one confused and disoriented.   

Zhaoxi Zhou's Map is an example of how such a collaboration can work phenomenally, almost.  The object, story, and history complement each other and encourages further thinking.  The video component makes Mr. Zhaoxi tangible. Unfortunately, the decision by the film maker to repeatedly pan the family apartment introduces many new elements, specifically additional objects, drawing attention away from the map and thoughts away from questions of immigration and mobility and community.

One area of disappointment is the physical setting of the pieces.  The furniture used was distracting and jarring in its presence.  The purpose of the chairs is unclear - are they for display or use? If for display, why? If for use, how?  Even in instances where the other elements connected well, the settings are detracting.  Shanise's Rhino represents a five year old in a hospital bed.  Why is it placed in a toddler's wooden rocker?  Kathy's Pendant seems lost and overwhelmed in a box too large for it, a location well below eye level, and placement beside a looming wing chair.  In the exhibit at large, the furniture's uniformity and style contradicts the exhibit's goal of reflecting the many different cultures and lifestyles of Philadelphia.  

Overall, the exhibit is successful in relaying how specific members of the Philadelphia community relate to objects in their possession.  A useful addition to the exhibit is the media space in the loft, where visitors can sit and listen to all of the audio segments or watch all of the video clips.  In a gallery where spacing can trigger a need to move on to the next display, this opportunity to sit and listen to a story in its entirety is supportive of different learning styles and personality types.  While the exhibit is designed for older viewers, with no specific attempt to gear the exhibit to a younger audience, it is attractive and accessible to adults.   The accompanying materials do a good job in explaining the project and tying it to the online exhibit.    The organizers of the museum have identified elements that work together to give members of the community a glimpse at how neighbors think and feel about the objects they collect.  Fine tuning of message, and one suspects practice at a large group or collaborators working together to unify that message, is likely to produce increasingly powerful and educational exhibits in the future.  

Working Together

The folks from First Person Arts asked for a combination of two proposed captions.  This is the result:

Fishing, or angling, originally a method of survival - one fished to eat - became a pastime during the Middle Ages.  The Schuylkill Fishing Company, founded in Philadelphia in May 1732, was the first fishing club in the Western Hemisphere.  In 1919 Pennsylvania introduced fishing licenses, creating revenue to maintain recreational waterways.

Fishing and Licenses and Objects - Oh My!

We are at the point in our project where it is time to write drafts of our object histories, or captions.  Below are four possibilities:

About Angling

Fishing, or angling, dates to pre-history as a method of survival: one fished to eat.  As early as the Middle Ages, people enjoyed fishing as a sport or pastime.  The Schuylkill Fishing Company was founded in Philadelphia on May 1, 1732, the first angling club in the Western Hemisphere. 
~Lyndsey S. Brown

About Pennsylvania Fishing Licenses

The Pennsylvania Fish and Boat Commission protects lakes, rivers, and streams in Pennsylvania so that residents may fish and boat.  Charging a fee to fish - requiring a fishing license - creates the necessary money used to care for the 45,000 miles of Commonwealth waterways. The first license was sold in 1919. 
~Lyndsey S. Brown

About Fishing - Through Objects

Objects can teach us the history of fishing.  The Egyptians made belts, carved pictures, and wove fishing nets.  Minoans made bronze fishing hooks.  The Etruscans and Greeks both depicted their gods fishing.  By the Middle Ages, both the Chinese and Europeans created fishing scenes, often on scrolls and in statuary.  
~Lyndsey S. Brown

Note: this description is written specifically to showcase ways that blogs can add dimension to a description.  All images belong to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and are used without permission (but with gratitude).  The Met's searchable database is an excellent tool for studying history through objects and art.   

About Senior Resident Fishing Licenses

The Commonwealth of Pennsylvania began issuing fishing licenses in 1919 to raise revenue to maintain waterways for fishing and boating.  In 1919 the first non-resident license was issued, with a resident license following in 1922. The senior resident license appeared in 1964, with a lifetime version introduced in 1979. 
~Lyndsey S. Brown

Putting it All Together

One way we as human beings make sense of the world around us is to  place ourselves, others, objects and spaces in relationship to each other.  The statement, "You may place your coat on my bed," to a visitor defines ownership of both the coat and the room.  It also defines a purpose for both the bed and the room - places to store a coat. 

The term relationship can denote a simple equation or function between two things, such as a bed being located in the middle of a room, or a barnacle attached to the flipper of a whale.  A relationship can also be described at a deeper level than placement, containing an understanding of reciprocal actions.  These actions can be functional - the barnacles aid the whales in securing food - or emotional - a parent loves a child, a child hates dark spaces, including the one under the guest bed where her coat is placed when visiting Nana's.  

Whether one is reading the University of Rochester's core curriculum statement or Alfred North Whitehead's "The Aims of Education," you will learn that there are those of us who strongly advocate the idea that humans engage most fully - be it learning, working, or giving of themselves - if we fully engage - yes, love -that on which we are focused.   

If learning happens best when you have the freedom to study what you love and if to learn something new you must first fall in love with the subject matter, how does an exhibit creator in a museum create a romance between visitor and object?  Interpretive planner Alice Parma advocates creating "entry points that allow your visitors to connect, relate and fall in love."

Let's use Parma's six steps of exhibit planning to envision an entry point for the First Person Museum experience that will create functional relationships that elicit emotional responses to the objects in question. 

STEP ONE  Successful exhibit planning emerges when one uses the organization's mission statement - its reason for being - as a starting point to determine both the key messages you wish visitors to learn and the storyline that will be the teaching tool.  

"Ordinary things can capture extraordinary stories." 

The First Person Museum experience is built on seeing stories behind objects.

   

"Transforming the drama of real life into memoir and documentary art 

to foster appreciation for our unique and shared experience. 

Everyone has a story to tell. 

Sharing our stories connects us with each other and the world."

First Person Arts Mission Statement

Visitors to the exhibit need to leave with a sense that objects tell stories 

and that through sharing our most beloved objects, 

we share our own story, 

pieces of ourselves.

In a very real sense,

these objects are windows 

into the individuals who share their stories.  

The exhibit offers a chance 

to go beyond looking in from the outside, 

and allow us to step through the glass 

into the story.

   

STEP TWO  Galleries of thought allow "visitors to make sense of unfamiliar material."  Key concepts during this step are perspective and organization.  How will you organize what visitors see in order to pull them into the subject matter, engage them emotionally, and begin the journey towards internalizing your take home messages?  Parma suggests several organizing concepts: category, chronology, analogy observation/deduction, comparison/contrast, theme, watchword.  I am going to combine and spin the concepts of category and comparison/contrast slightly.

How can we pair items with each other in a way that simultaneously give us enough of a categorical grounding that we can establish a starting point of understanding while launching a line of what is similar/what is different questioning?

Grouping the objects allows us to play 

with the concepts of community and interconnectivity 

while challenging how people think about how things fit together.  

Knowing the stories, and history, of each object 

allows us to pull key, but not necessarily obvious facts to the surface.

For example, the stories for Kathy's Pendant and Jon's Fishing license both feature a car, and how the object was used in relation to the car.

Beth's Sock and Renee's Boxer shorts both represent a life halted or ended. 

This type of grouping draws visitors into a specific 

element of the story, and lends a tangible sense of inclusion.

STEP THREE  What to display?  From our starting point, the objects are chosen.  If we step back to the process First Person Arts employed, we need to return to step one, and the importance of mission.  The objects that were chosen were the ones with the staff felt had compelling stories with the best chance of drawing people into a connection.  These are our objects: 

Amy's birth certificate, Beth's sock, Biany's passport, Bill's pen, Carla's wedding ring, 

Catalina's pan, Grace's painting, Iris's dolls, Jon's fishing license, Kate's shawl, 

Kathy's pendant, Leyla's stuffed tiger, Renee's boxer shorts, Rocky's tie-die shirt, 

Shanise's stuffed rhino, Vicki's dress , Yari's baby's clothes, Zhaoxi's map

STEP FOUR  Motivate and engage.  This step is about the curiosity and knowledge visitors bring with them to your exhibit and how you validate their questions and understanding. The form of the First Person Museum lends itself well to this step, as by design multiple viewpoints are provided.  Where we need to be creative is how to invite interaction with the object and contribution by the visitor to the comprehensive experience that is the exhibit.  

We need to bring the visitor into the space 

that physically represents a piece of the story 

invites the visitor to be an active participant.  

STEP FIVE  What is our exhibit's "visual style?" How will we use scale, color, dimension, dynamic angles and groupings, timelines, context, comparisons, and contrasts to "communicate key messages?"

Window frames.  
On the way into the space allotted for each grouping of items,
you will pass by a  close to life size window frame.  
Depicted in the four panes of the frame 
will be a collage highlighting elements of each story.  
Colors and textures will be used on both the windows and  in the images.  


The objects themselves will be displayed in a way that continues to pull the visitor into the story. 
A picture of the inside front of a car on the wall behind the display cases 
for Jon's Fishing License and Kathy's Pendant.  
And on the next wall, blowups of newspaper headlines 
of the news related to Beth's Sock and Renee's Boxer Shorts.


When you step by the window, you are in essence stepping into the story, 
which is then depicted on the wall and represented by the object.        

STEP SIX  Before producing and installing an exhibit, smart steps include: creating a blueprint and thinking through how you will assemble the pieces. 

Grouping the Objects

Sketching a Blueprint

Thinking out loud

Another option

Getting the right window

Thoughts for Assembly 

If the exhibit comes together as envisioned (and budget and time and resources allow), one has a physical and visual experience that brings the visitor directly into the story.  Other elements planned by First Person Arts such as films and audio recording of the story can be build into the design presented.  (Imagine turning on a car radio to hear Jon tell of fishing with his grandfather.)  The collages and wall backdrops allow the historian to intersperse images and pictures that speak to the objects history beyond the story.  To finish the goals, there can be a large window on the way out of the exhibit on which visitors can tape hand written notes of their own stories or pictures of their own objects.  

What Is a Fishing License?

What is a fishing license?
You, there. American, living in the 21st C.
What is a fishing license?

<silence for your answer>

How do you know?
Have you held one?
Seen one?
Used one?

If you answered yes, you have first hand knowledge, or primary experience, with fishing licenses.  If you answered no, how is it that you answered my questions? Hmm?

Members of a community share a common knowledge of objects.  Popular culture is an example of this.  The movies we see, books we read, billboards we use to play the alphabet game - all of these items provide images that supply messages.  You used these images to answer my question.

What do we as a culture know about fishing licenses? Let's consult a couple of sources.

Cartoons can reflect public opinion, political atmosphere, ideological trends.  Cartoonstock.com is an archive, a "searchable database of more than 200,000 gag cartoons, political cartoons, cartoon pictures and illustrations by more than 600 cartoonists." These cartoons are both current and historical, just like popular culture, as what a culture knows is a culmination of what has been created, shared, and passed down through generations.  

What do we know about fishing licenses from what cartoons tell us?  Let's look:

All four of these cartoons talk about permissions, specifically, the permission to be in a certain place engaging in a certain activity - fishing.  This sense of the object matched the intent of the object, something that is not always true.  

Another source of current popular cultures is film. When I think of fishing licenses and film, I think of Grumpy Old Men, starring Jack Lemmon and Walter Mathau.  I swear I remember an image of Burgess Meredith's character, Grandpa Gustafson, depicted with a fishing license on his fishing cap.  So I went looking for a picture to back up my memory.  Nothing. 

What I did find was fascinating, however.  Of all the images of the main characters, in a film where fishing is a key activity, not a single image does show a fishing license.  Let's go back to the cartoons. What is absent, or assumed to be absent, in each sketch? 

The license.

So what do we, as members of popular culture know about fishing licenses?  

You are supposed to have one. 

A question of ownership

"Jon's Fishing License" seems a misnomer.  Clearly printed on the license is the name, "Jack Zove."  Doesn't the license belong to him?


Assuming a simple answer to ownership of an identifying document, such as a license, passport or birth certificate, is tempting. "Whose name is on it?"  While an obvious starting point, the very nature of objects, and history, renders such an assumption a false lead the moment the document is created, and the probability increases with time.  Knowing how much time has passed is a critical key to verifying ownership of a legal document issued to a specific person.  Asking questions can determine if the object still belongs to whom it was issued.  How many years have passed? Is the number less than a human lifetime?  Or simply, is Jack Zove still alive?  


A Google search provides three hits; all tie the name to memorial gifts to organizations in Philadelphia.  While not proof of the death of our Jack Zove, they are reasonable leads. Another search indicates a death certificate exists for a Jack Zove of Pennsylvania. We could pay the fee to obtain that record and solid proof.  As it is, we know that Mr. Zove is deceased, who owns his license, and why because we know the story of the object.  (Or at least, I do, and you will too, with time.)  While one of the challenges of this project is navigating the line between story and history, for now, we will stay focused on our goal of using historical method, not story, to define the license.  


We need to also ask what the license's surroundings tell us.  In whose possession does the object live?  In this case, Jon's, because Jon brought the object to a Storytelling Session hosted by First Person Arts in a quest for objects and stories for the First Person Museum project.  How it was or is it used?  Seeing the back would show if there was a trout sticker, but still wouldn't prove that he did such fishing.  Is there wear on the license? Is it dirty? Scuffed? In a case for pinning to a fishing vest? While these questions can indicate use, we still don't know how Mr. Zove used it.  Without proof, the assumption that he used it to fish is still an assumption.  What about how Jon uses the license? At this point, unless we use the story, we are limited to what we know about how he does not use it.  Jon does not use the license to fish, because PA Lifetime Fishing licenses are only issued to individuals over 65.  We have a picture of Jon which indicates he is significantly younger than 65.   


Asking questions of the object, of its surroundings, and of other documents can all help place an object in context and provide information about its use.  My next post will look at the larger context of popular culture to explore what we know about the societal role of fishing licenses.

The art of description

At 10:31 a.m. on April 19, 1994, Jack Zove was issued a Senior Resident Lifetime Fishing License from the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.  At the time he lived on Claremont Road in Philadelphia.  He was 68 years old, 5 foot nine and a half inches, and weighed 176 pounds.  His hair was brown and his eyes hazel.  The license number is 236099 and was issued by agent number 22047-2 of the PA Fish and Boat Commission.  The license form number is PFBC-L 161, REV 8-92.  Also printed on the license is a large blue L.  

The above information comprises the data that is printed on Jack Zove's Lifetime PA Fishing License, which is currently owned by his grandson Jon.  Jon will tell the story of his grandfather's fishing license, of the license he possesses, in other forums.  The goal of this blog is to trace the process of exploring the history of Jon's Fishing License via different methods of analysis within the larger context of accessing history through the study of material culture.  

The goal of this post is to describe the license.  As I will not have the opportunity to interact with the license directly, my observations are based on a photograph of the front side of the object and information gathered about lifetime fishing licenses in general. 


The picture shows a rectangular piece of white card stock placed in a plastic cover.  The form portion of the card is printed in blue, as is the watermark. The watermark is of the seal for the Fish and Boat Commission of Pennsylvania.  


Mr. Zove's data is typed or printed on the card in black ink.  I cannot tell from the distance at which the picture is taken if a type writer or printer was used.  However, with at least HP Printers being common in the marketplace by the late 1980s, it is likely that this card was printed, not typed.  Additionally, the shape of the letters, added to the uniformity and darkness of the ink, suggests a printer, not a type writer, was used. 


The license number itself is of a very large font and the ink is red in color.  The numbers are shaped differently from either the blue form characters or the black data information, the shape of which suggests a rubber stamp may have been used.   


At this point, I have exhausted visual observation.  I cannot describe the back of the license as I do not have a picture of it.  I need to look beyond this specific example to others for possible answers.  What can studying current fishing licenses and processes to obtain one tell us about Jon's grandfather's 1994 license?  If nothing else, they can give us a starting point from which to work backwards, or at least, with which to draw comparisons.  


A current Lifetime Fishing License from Pennsylvania is an option offered only to permanent residents of the state who are age 65 or older.  The license itself measures 3 1/2-inches wide by 2 1/2 inches high.  A 2010 PA Senior Lifetime Fishing license costs $51.70.  One assumes in 1994 one cost less.  (Today one can also get an upgrade to a laminated plastic card for $6.70.)


From a descriptive point of view, the Jon's Fishing License seems rather mundane.  White card stock.  Wallet-sized.  No distinguishing marks or tears.  Details about present day licenses and the data provided by the card give us a reasonable sense of what this piece of paper is.  Next post will discuss who owned it and for what it was used.