Restricted vs. Unrestricted Donations

Private donations make up a significant percentage of museums' funding, and development departments spend a good deal of time cultivating relationships with private donors. However, private donors frequently put restrictions on what their donation money can be used for, creating problems for the museum staff. Of course there is always the issue of museum staff "chasing" funding from private donors who are willing to give only for specific exhibitions or causes. But what are the pros and cons of restricted and unrestricted donations?

Restricted donations are donations of any amount given by private donors or foundations that have particular specifications about how the money is to be used. For example, the Smith family foundation may choose to donate $5,000 to the Phillips Collection, but will stipulate that the money can only be used for a particular museum program. But what if the museum needs money for operational expenses instead? In this case, unrestricted donations might be more beneficial, because a museum can use the funding towards what it needs the most. However, many private donors like the idea of seeing where their money is going, and many feel that if they are the ones giving the money, they should be able to designate its use.

One solution to this problem was devised by the Boston Children's Museum when it raised money to fund its Japanese House. The development department created a "Wishbook" online, similar to a bridal registry, where donors could check what items needed to be donated, and "buy" a specific item for the museum. This way, the museum was able to put donation funds towards fulfilling its needs, while still giving donors a stake in the project. Not only was all the necessary money raised for the Japan House, but donors felt a certain accountability and pride in contributing to a specific exhibition.

Art Out of Economic Crisis: Does the Best Art Come Out of Suffering?

Despite the overwhelming economic crisis in Greece today, the country is seeing a surprising growth in artistic activity. From art galleries to theater playhouses, the arts seem to be experiencing a revival. Filmmakers and street artists, inspired by the economic and social situation, are producing works of art that are deeply imbued with a critical consciousness. This year's Oscar nominated film from Greece, Attenberg, shows a different side of Greece from an offbeat perspective. Galleries such as the Kunsthalle Athena are showing exhibitions of works by artists such as Lydia Dambassina and Stefania Strouza, whose innovative work expresses the pain and duress of the Greek people. For example, Stefania Strouza is known for taking excerpts of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream and framing them for display: "My soul consents not to give sovereignty" and "Before the time seemed Athens as a paradise to me", are just a few examples.

It is undeniable that times of hardship provoke art (think: the great music produced by Blues artists, etc.), but my question is a little different. Is art better when it is produced in times of hardship? It certainly will have a different message, but is it true that the most intriguing art derives from suffering?

Is Displaying Non-Western Objects in a Western Setting an Injustice?

Is it wrong to display non-Western cultural artifacts in the setting of a Western-style museum display? This is a question that I have been mulling over for some time now, actually since I took a class on Japanese art last semester. The Freer and Sackler Galleries have a well-curated and extensive collection of Asian art. But do the museums do an injustice to the artwork by displaying them in a Western-style building instead of, say, a pagoda? What is the effect of displaying non-Western art in a Western setting? Or the effect of displaying objects that were not intended to be "art" (devotional statues, articles of clothing, etc.) in a museum setting?

Last year, one of the most successful exhibitions at the Sackler Gallery was the Tibetan Shrine from the Alice S. Kandell Collection, which essentially recreated a Tibetan Buddhist shrine and displayed all the objects in the shrine as they would be placed for worship. The exhibition was very well-received and continues to receive acclaim. Was it perhaps because it provided visitors with a rare look into how the art objects were meant to be used and displayed?

I am very intrigued by the example set by the Sackler's Tibetan Shrine, and I wonder if other museums would follow this lead for the display of other artworks. Certainly such displays would be more educational for visitors - they would be able to see for themselves what kind of uses the objects had, instead of merely reading about them on labels or in catalogs. Of course it is much more cost-effective to display artwork in cases or on a wall. But is it worth spending more money on an exhibition if it will be displayed in a manner more loyal to its contents' original purposes?

"Community Curating": Whose Side Are You On?

On a recent tour of the National Museum of the American Indian, I was surprised by the presence of "community curated" exhibits. These community curated exhibits allowed leaders from different native tribes to put together the kiosks showcasing their tribes. At the entrance to each tribe's enclave, there were pictures and blurbs introducing each of the community curators. The exhibits included traditional artifacts, such as boots and weapons, but also featured wall texts with tribal history and personal anecdotes.

When I expressed interest in these community curated exhibits, the cultural interpreter who was leading our tour explained that there were some setbacks to the well-meaning idea of replacing the traditional museum curator with a team of knowledgeable native leaders. First was the issue of content selection. While the community curators may be able to most effectively choose the artifacts and stories that best represent their tribe's culture, they are not necessarily in tune to the needs of museum visitors. For example, the cultural interpreter mentioned that a lot of visitors to the Cherokee exhibit were looking for information about the Trail of Tears. However, the community curators of the exhibit had decided not to include the Trail of Tears, as it had not directly affected their branch of the Cherokee tribe. Another setback of community curators is the fact that most do not have a background in art or museum studies. Museum curators are professionals who study and practice for years before compiling their own exhibits. Community curators may know more about the art and artifacts from their personal experiences, but they may not necessarily know how to choose objects that work best in a museum setting.

In an ideal world, community curators would work side-by-side with museum curators to offer visitors the best of both worlds. Unfortunately, for reasons of economy and politics (what else is new?), this is not always the most feasible solution.

Can Art Inspire Social Change?

The question I raise in the title of this post is not really a question in my mind. I think one of the many functions of art is to motivate social change [think: Shepard Fairy's "Hope" poster which was used in the Obama campaign or J. Howard Miller's "We Can Do It" poster used during WW II]. However, I feel like these past few weeks have witnessed some particularly noteworthy examples of artwork inspiring and reflecting current events.

Last week, I visited the National Portrait Gallery with a class and was astounded to see a photo-portrait memorializing Apple co-founder Steve Jobs. My class was visiting on October 13, and Jobs had died only a week earlier, on October 5. My eyes grew even wider when I learned that the portrait was actually prepared, mounted, and ready for public exhibition the very next day after his death. Clearly, Steve Jobs was such a monumental figure in the eyes of the American public that the museum felt it necessary to honor his passing without any delay.

Occupy Wall Street, the social movement that gained speed and media attention after Jobs' death, is said to have been inspired by a poster designed by Canadian protest organizing group Adbusters, which features a ballerina balancing atop the emblematic Wall Street bull sculpture. The heading above the image inquired, "What is our one demand?" Though the protesters in the dozens of demonstrations across the country have different ideas about what this one demand is (and true, most people still don't know what the movement is gunning for), they were inspired by this unique image: a graceful dancer poised elegantly on the head of a raging bull, with crowds of protesters in the hazy background. What exactly is this image trying to convey? Different activists have had varying interpretations of the message, but have taken it as the symbol for their multi-faceted movement all the same.

So what can we learn from this? Nothing we didn't already know. But it's always helpful to be reminded of the underestimated power of art.

VTS vs. Guided Inquiry

Today in my Museum Education and Interpretation class, we watched a video clip of the Guggenheim Museum's Learning Through Art program in action. In the clip, an artist in residence visited a third-grade classroom in Queens, New York and showed the students how to use guided inquiry questions to view and interpret Franz Marc's Yellow Cow painting. Last week, I visited the National Museum of Women in the Arts and participated in a Visual Thinking Strategies exercise, where a facilitator asked questions to help visitors view and interpret a Magdalena Abakanowicz sculpture. Both the guided inquiry exercise and the VTS exercise used similar questions to achieve comparable goals, but the outcomes were slightly different. Why do some museum programs choose to implement VTS, while others employ guided inquiry exercises?

In VTS, a facilitator asks the group three questions: What do you see? What makes you think that? What more can you find? The facilitator rephrases each participant's response, but does not provide any information. The process continues as the facilitator repeatedly asks the same questions, giving all willing participants the chance to share their ideas. The exercise concludes when the group either runs out of time or ideas. The goal is not to achieve a result or "find the right answer", but rather to encourage the development of critical thinking skills through looking at a work of art.

Guided inquiry exercises involve a similar facilitator-participant dialogue, and many of the questions asked sound awfully like the questions asked in VTS. The first question is almost always What do you notice? Subsequent questions, however, are shaped based on participant responses and on the subject matter of the lesson, since guided inquiry is often used in conjunction with another subject, like Social Studies or Language Arts. The moderator does not correct misguided ideas, but does provide correct information about the piece and its artist.

Which exercise is more effective? VTS has as its goal the development of critical thinking skills and critical looking skills. The moderator does not validate correct answers or penalize incorrect answers, because the philosophy behind VTS is not focused on what is "right" or "wrong". Many art historians, who spend so much of their time learning and interpreting facts, frequently see VTS as doing an injustice to the students, depriving them of useful knowledge. Guided inquiry, on the other hand, works in a similar way to improve critical thinking skills, but its questions are not always as open-ended. Facilitators don't lecture about the work of art, but they do integrate facts into the discussion. So which one is better? I think the answer will depend on the unique needs of the participants, depending on their age, education level, and interests.

Made in China

Nowadays, if you pick up anything cheap and plastic, from children's toys to home goods, you'll usually find the brand "made in China" on the underside. Most American consumers have generally accepted the fact that a large quantity of the items they buy are produced in China. Those who have problems with this (you know the Made-in-the-USA types) can pay the higher prices to buy things made in this country. Therefore, it seems surprising that such a tremendous surge of voices has come forward to condemn the new Martin Luther King Jr. sculpture, which, like your child's Barbie doll or flimsy flip-flops, was made in China.

The statue, part of the Washington D.C. Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial on the National Mall, has raised eyebrows because its Chinese artist, Lei Yixin, sculpted the work in China of Chinese granite. Of course if it had been a statue honoring I.M. Pei or any other Chinese-American, the public would have had no problem. But considering the function and purpose of the MLK Memorial, many Americans were outraged that a memorial for one of the greatest advocates of equality and peace was created by someone still living in a Communist state. Some more extreme critics went so far as to claim that the representation of Dr. King has Asian features and a Mao-like crossed-arm pose.

The children of Dr. King were reportedly pleased with the monument, praising Lei's depiction of their father. Many other visitors were equally impressed with the 30-foot sculpture, and millions more are projected to visit it this year. They don't seem to have a problem with the fact that it was made by a Chinese artist. Interestingly enough, none of the critics seemed to remember that America's most emblematic monument, the Statue of Liberty, was made in France by a Frenchman.

However, I am still trying to wrap my head around the whole argument: is there actually an ethical issue here? Or is it just another occasion where self-invested Americans are biting the hand that feeds?