With deep thanks to all of the museum planners, photographers, and authors who contributed to the making of this book, Kathy McLean and I would like to announce the publication of The Convivial Museum. The book explores key dimensions of a defining quality of vibrant public places that we call “conviviality”—a welcoming spirit, orientation to the community, comfort, opportunities for social engagement, and places for healing and renewal. The focus is on the physical character of museums, which, while all too often overlooked, has profound effects on the quality of a museum experience.

For all those who share a vision of the broad social role of museums, we offer The Convivial Museum as a timely reminder of the simple but deeply important practices that make museums critical components of civic life. Designed for ease of browsing, the book includes more than 130 images and thought-provoking quotations, some contributed by ExhibitFiles members.

The book complements an earlier, companion volume, Visitor Voices in Museum Exhibitions, which advocated for active individual and community involvement in creating museum exhibitions and programs. Both books were supported in part by grants from the U.S. Institute of Museum and Library Services.

The Convivial Museum is available in a limited, print edition. To order either book (or both) visit the ASTC website.

It’s been a convention of long standing in the museum world that visitors should cover as much ground as possible, on foot. The economics of museums in the United States reinforce this syndrome.  Many have come to rely on earned income, buildings and related operating costs have grown, results often are measured in attendance numbers, and visitors have to keep moving in order for the museum to achieve adequate “through-put.” And if you’ve paid a substantial amount to get in, you probably want to keep moving so you can see as much as possible.

But as recent posts suggest, people feel an opposite tug, a desire to slow down and savor their experiences. Two recent contributors mentioned their trepidation about visiting (separately) a Picasso exhibition. Anticipating long lines and an $18 admission fee (plus parking) and in one case even fearing a “claustrophobic” experience, they steeled themselves.

But as Mallory Martin wrote, “as I turned a corner sure that I had seen all there was to see and was about to exit the show, a photographic time-lapse of the various stages of Guernica was on display. It was here I sat and lingered and watched how the master that was Picasso took an expansive canvas and turned it into an evocative and timeless piece of art….at this moment I had received all that I needed from the show…a personal connection and moment introspection facilitated by a work of art.” The other reviewer, Winifred Kehl, noted the “many alluring seats” in this multimedia area that “probably drew many people eager for a sit-down.”

There’ve always been those who have insisted on offering people a place to sit down. British museologist Kenneth Hudson predicted before his death in 1999, in fact, that the museums that thrive in this century will be not only those with some special charm, but, quite simply, “those with chairs.”

You don’t need a costly multimedia presentation in order to offer a space for rest and reflection. The Field Museum’s Matt Matchuk told Kathy McLean and me that his museum had moved some overstuffed armchairs from a furniture rental company into their galleries and that visitors happily “plunk themselves down” to rest. (The photograph above is from Saralyn Rosenfield’s review of the Center for Creative Connections at the Dallas Museum of Art, which also offers places to sit.)

There’s more about seating and other comforts in our forthcoming book, The Convivial Museum, available from ASTC.

Sometimes the simplest thing can bring an exhibition into focus. In Water: Our Thirsty World, it was this plastic jug that most impressed Maraya Cornell and conveyed viscerally what it feels like not to have enough. In her review, she wrote: “When you lift it, which, unless you’re a body-builder, you do only briefly, you have a small but powerful notion of what it must be like to carry that jug on your back for several miles, as must the African women walking across the sand dunes in one of Lynn Johnson’s photographs.”

Dawn Eshelman wished for a component almost as simple in her review of an exhibition at the Morgan Library about Mark Twain. Although she found herself absorbed by the author’s handwriting and turns of phrase (“clownish self-loathing,” “skeptical tumble-bug”), a rocking chair and a volume of Twain’s writings might have evoked his presence, she reflected. “When occupied, it would frame Twain’s favorite hero, the everyman, in modern form. Either way, it would provide something Twain might call progress – a good place to read.”

Sometimes it’s the simplest things that are the most memorable.

One of the basic courtesies a museum can extend to people who come there is help getting oriented and finding our way around. But as Susie Wilkening’s recent account in the Reach Advisors blog suggests, there are museums that haven’t learned (or applied) the lessons of Wayfinding 101. In fact, one of the comments on her post, from a designer  who’s worked mainly in the commercial arena, is even more damning: “I found museums, parks, zoos, and aquariums to be some of the worst examples of institutions that simply didn’t care enough about their guests to provide a decent wayfinding system or graphic environment as part of their overall experience.”

It’s encouraging that a number of recent reviews on ExhibitFiles pay attention to the overall quality of the experience—what it felt like to enter the museum, how easily the reviewer found what she was looking for. It’s important to share positive experiences, and to pay attention to the design details, as Penny Jennings did in her October post about a wayfinding sign at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. (The example above, in a photograph Kathy McLean took at the California Academy of Sciences, is another positive example, which she and I cite in our forthcoming book, The Convivial Museum.)

But as Susie and her commentator suggest, a basic attitude of care and human concern reminds us daily to see things from the perspective of those we’re there to serve. That way, we’re likelier to call to mind those design ideas when we need them most.

Paying attention: It’s at the heart of learning, an aspect of aesthetic experience, how we make meaning, a topic of recurring interest among those who design museum exhibitions. So how do we get people to pay more attention? In a major review of the topic commissioned by the Visitor Studies Association, Steve Bitgood offers background and practical guidance. Attention, he writes, “is a three-level continuum (capture, focus, engage) with a different combination of variables influencing attention at each stage.” People are making judgments all the time about where they direct their attention, he says. So “attention is perceived value (a ratio of utility/satisfaction divided by costs such as time and effort) of the exhibit element.”

The article offers a framework for thinking about things most of us already know, if only from being museum visitors ourselves. Fatigue, distraction, too many things to see and do all at once all work against attention.

But what about the value proposition–how do we make an exhibit that compels people to turn attention that way? It comes down to two simple things, Steve writes: “(1) by selecting high interest exhibit content; and/or (2) by designing exhibit elements that stimulate curiosity.” The heart of exhibition design, its mystery and challenge–and the reason we get to know the people we’re designing for.

“An Attention-Value Model of Museum Visitors” was published by the Center for Advancement of Informal Science Education (CAISE) and is available as a downloadable PDF on the CAISE website.

A guest blog post by Joanna Fisher, ExhibitFiles member since July 2007

Since the beginning of the year, I have been meeting with fellow museum professionals from a variety of local museums to experiment with and learn from the use of Judging Exhibitions: A Framework for Assessing Excellence, by Beverly Serrell. Our group includes people from a variety of backgrounds and a spectrum of museum types. Each person in the group uses the Framework to review an exhibition on their own. Then we meet over sack lunches once every two months to follow up and discuss our findings. I try to capture the views of the entire group in a review, informed by their reviews and the discussion, which I post on Exhibitfiles. (Two have been posted—Destination Argentina and galleries at the John Hutchings Museum of Natural History—and two more will be posted in the next few weeks.)

We held our first meeting in February and reviewed how we would use the Framework. (See below for link to PDF.) It is exciting to talk about what makes a good exhibition, we agreed, and there would be differences of opinion. The Framework would help get us all on the same page, speaking the same language, and thinking more carefully and thoroughly about what we see as evidence of excellence. The process of thinking and discussing has increased our abilities to review, critique and evaluate for excellence—and to strive for exhibitions that have the most excellence possible.

When we visit an exhibition on our own, we complete the steps to come up with a rating. Beverly defines them this way:

• Call-outs: your experiences in the exhibition as a visitor
• Aspects: the evidence you found that supported each criterion (Comfortable? Engaging? Reinforcing? Meaningful?)

I really enjoy coming up with call-outs. I can wonder on paper about the things I see and hear. I can like things just because I like them. And I can note when I think something is stupid. There aren’t really any “rules” that I need to consider, I just need to experience the exhibition. When I “finish” my visit, it is time to assess the “aspects.” I am mostly considering questions that are laid out pretty explicitly in the Framework. Basically, I just ask myself if the exhibition “is” or “isn’t” comfortable, engaging, reinforcing, and meaningful, based on what I wrote in my call-outs.

After finishing these two steps, it is time to use my brain, to “rate the criteria”—then to identify the evidence to support those ratings. Rating the criteria requires that I 1) start using a different part of my brain, and keep using it until my brain adjusts to the shift and 2) make commitments. I love to analyze and think, but I still have to talk myself into assigning ratings, to be a judge. Once I get into it, it does get easier and more enjoyable.

I am reminded of the dreaded annual reviews with the boss: I love it when the review tells me I have exceeded expectations and done more than required, and a bit disappointed when told that I am doing the job I was hired for at the level it needs to be done. I think we find most exhibitions also to be a mixture of good, bad, and “acceptable.” But I am very confident that most, if not all, exhibitions have something in them that is excellent. One purpose for the Judging Exhibitions experiment is to find the ways that we can increase excellence and not always have to settle for “acceptable.”

The group discussions have lived up to all my expectations. One discussion stands out in my mind: during one of our reviews, each of us was able to identify ways that the exhibition could be improved. Some were pretty simple things like removing some of the artifacts to allow room for the artifacts that were on display. Some ideas were getting pretty elaborate, including knocking out walls and redesigning entire galleries to focus the storytelling and interpretation to provide increased context and relevance for multiple styles of visitors. Frankly, I think we batted around some pretty good ideas that would address missed opportunities, improve the visitors’ experiences, and increase the excellence of the exhibition, but we had to stop to notice a very important point: The purpose of reviewing an exhibition (formally or informally) is not to completely redesign the exhibition or to tear down the work of those who planned it, but to critically observe where the exhibit planners did well and not so well so that we can learn from their experience. These grand schemes of redesign were not for the existing exhibition—to be honest, we all rather enjoyed ourselves and found much to be impressed with. We were using the existing exhibition as a shared reference. The ideas and recommendations were for future exhibitions we would work on. This is how we build on the past and learn from each other.

So far, this has been an exhilarating experiment. Everyone involved has found opportunity to learn from the experiences and insight of our colleagues. But even more exciting has been the opportunity to be guided by the Framework to pull lessons about what makes a truly great exhibition from each and every exhibition we visit, review, and discuss.

I am enjoying the involvement of different perspectives, learning from colleagues, and stretching my own thinking. I recommend that others try it – develop your own group in your own city, and use the Framework to focus and direct your discussions. I would love to hear how it goes.

Framework: Assessing Excellence in Exhibitions from a Visitor-Centered Perspective, by Beverly Serrell (PDF)

Join an online discussion, June 14–28, with Beverly Serrell, evaluator and veteran observer of science centers and museums, public gardens, and aquariums. In a recent article,  “Paying More Attention to Paying Attention,” she analyzes tracking-and-timing studies from more than 100 exhibitions and offers observations about the characteristics of what she calls “thoroughly used exhibitions.” As she notes, “Time spent paying attention is a prerequisite for learning, and studies have shown a positive relationship between the amount of time spent in an exhibition and learning.” Her observations are suggestive not only for designers of place-based science learning experiences, but for those who study learning across the informal science education field.

To join the week-long discussion and share your experiences, go to connect.astc.org, set up an account, find the “CAISE Forum,” and enroll yourself using the word “informal” as the enrollment key. If you need help, contact info@caise.insci.org.

About the image: “Where Do You Sit in the Cafeteria?” is part of the Science Museum of Minnesota exhibition RACE Are We Different? Tracking-and-timing data “showed surprisingly high levels of visitor attention to text and graphic panels, challenging the assumption that ‘nobody reads the labels.’”

There are some influences that run so deep, we may forget where they came from and how they got started. Like the use of everyday materials in exhibits, and the deep belief in the value of tinkering and messing about.

Boston Stories, a website that’s being lovingly created by Mike Spock and colleagues, promises to help us remember one very important influence on the museum scene – the Boston Children’s Museum and all those who were part of what George Hein calls “an optimistic time.” Check it out.

At right, in an image from the website’s archives, a child explores an exhibit and practices blowing bubbles.

Last week in Milan, at the annual meeting of ecsite, the European Science Centre Network, in a session about art in science centers organized by Claire Pillsbury, an old topic came up: What ethical guidelines should we follow, as a field, in copying others’ work? Remo Besio of Techorama in Switzerland spoke passionately about instances he had observed in recent years of organizations profiting from sale of copies of work that had been developed by other organizations and individuals, without permission or compensation. There was at least one example right there in the exhibit hall.

The original spirit in the science center field was generous. The Exploratorium freely shared plans for their exhibits, for the cost of a Cookbook, and in that way inspired hundreds of others around the world to start their own science centers. The Cheapbook series begun by Paul Orselli and colleagues like Dan Goldwater (who contributed plans for a Harmonic Cantilever) and Steve Pizzey (who contributed Windy City, shown here) continued the tradition of generosity – a tradition with echoes in the contemporary open source movement.

There are very few museums that can afford to secure legal protection for their exhibit designs, or to defend those rights. But it was clear from the discussion in Milan that most people hope that we can embrace ethical guidelines that will help protect the spirit of common purpose and mutual aid that are such an important part of the history and culture of this field.

This topic was discusssed at length some years ago by a group that met at ASTC conferences and summarized their position in what was then the ASTC Newsletter.  The guidelines they suggested are still online, here. Are there any updates or suggestions?

Gretchen Jennings, editor of the NAME journal, is looking for leads for an upcoming issue. You can get in touch with her or post here. Here’s Gretchen’s note:

Hello all. For the Spring 2010 issue of “Exhibitionist,” the exhibitions journal that I edit (www.name-aam.org), we want to look at issues that come up over and over again in developing and designing exhibitions – like should we do an intro film? are dioramas out forever or in again? lighting for accessibility or low lighting to preserve objects? Should this be a staffed exhibition? etc? I’m soliciting examples of exhibition frictions that you experience continually – and especially those that have been addressed creatively. Any ideas? I’d love to hear them. I would like to hear from you by end of June 2009.

Thanks, Gretchen