It’s Not The Length Of The Label, Its The Quality Of The Content

by:

Joe Patti

Ruth Hartt had reposted an Observer debating what sort of information and how much makes for a good museum label. It immediately occurred to me that this can be a tall order based on the fact that museum visitors may have different agenda every time they enter the doors. Thinking about the types of museum attendees discussed by John Falk, people may be coming to explore one day, facilitate friends and family another day, approach the experience through a more professional lens the next time, or just want to unwind and recharge.

My thoughts went to the Axios.com site which uses Zoom In, Zoom Out, and Go Deeper sub-heads in many of their articles. I thought that might be a good format so that people could decide how much detail they wanted about an object. However, there were people interviewed for the Observer article who not only thought less is more, in some cases they advocated that nothing is more.

 Ours is a literate culture rather than a visual one, and “there is a comfort in reading a label,” Gary Vikan, former director of the Walters Art Museum in Baltimore, told Observer. “You are offered facts that are very relatable, whereas artworks themselves aren’t so easily contained. Labels are a left-brain experience, while art is experiential and not a test of knowledge. In my world, people wouldn’t need the damn label at all.”

[…]

“Every year, I take my students to the Barnes Foundation in Philadelphia, which doesn’t provide any labels for artworks on display,” James Pawelski, director of education at Penn’s Positive Psychology Center, told Observer. “There is no intermediary between the viewer and the art, so students have to deal directly with the art.” He is not opposed to labels per se, but like many others, Pawleski has something to say about the many museum placards he sees. “You don’t want the label to take away the mystery of the artwork, what makes it interesting and inspiring. That’s why I prefer labels that help people become immersed in a work of art.”

Some of those that do use labels engage in a lengthy creation and editing process that spans different departments, acknowledging that museum professionals are so close to their work they often use insider terminology or emphasize aspects that appeal to professionals rather than the lay person.

At Atlanta’s High Museum of Art, labels originate with a curator, “written with the assistance of curatorial research associates,” and are then passed to the Department of Museum Interpretation for a review of “clarity of narrative and messaging, tone of voice, reading level and word count,” Mekala Krishnan, the museum’s associate director of museum interpretation, told Observer. But they’re not done yet. “There is usually some back and forth between the curatorial and interpretation departments before it then gets passed to our editor, who is the final gatekeeper for formatting, spelling, grammar and punctuation, as well as for overall clarity….

Some institutions keep working on their labels even after they are installed, with staffers watching visitors as they move through galleries, timing how long they stand in front of any object and watching their eyes to see if they are reading more than looking. Visitors may be questioned about what they saw: “What did you take away from this exhibition?” or “What do you know now that you didn’t know before?” This is quite labor-intensive and expensive, but it may be the only way to know for certain if the label did its job.

The article goes much deeper into the nuance and considerations that factor into label design. There is a fair bit of overlap between the philosophy of what to include on museum labels and performer bios and performance notes for live events…not to mention promotional materials. It is worth reading the article even if you aren’t in the exhibit based world in order to gain something of a disinterested perspective you can apply to experiences you may offer to audiences.

Art On The Farm

by:

Joe Patti

It has been a few years since I posted anything about the Wormfarm Institute  so I was happy to read a Hyperallergic post via Artsjournal.com about Wormfarm’s annual Farm/Art D’tour which occurred a couple weeks ago.

People can drive around the farm land of Wisconsin to see various art installations and performances staged in the fields. The whole circuit is about 50 miles. Among the performances this year were the Hay Rake Ballet choreographing the movements of three tractors. There is video in the Hyperallergic article. It appears there may have been a line dancing component involved as well based on a call for participants on the Wormfarm site.

According to the choreographer Sarah Butler,

“It’s not every day that these farmers are driving and doing pirouettes with the tractors,” said Butler in an interview with Hyperallergic. “But nothing I was asking them to do was something they don’t do every day. It was really cool to see these three guys who are total masters of their craft being celebrated by their own community, as well as people visiting who are coming to see the DTour … for things they do every day that are oftentimes not really recognized as art.”

The concept behind Farm/Art D’tour is to raise awareness of the process by which food reaches people’s table and diminish perceptions that farmers and farming are disconnected from art. Based on the experience of one of the farmers participating in Hay Rake Ballet, he and some of his friends and neighbors are beginning to see that connection:

While some farmers refused to take part and one even backed out during rehearsals, Enge said he and his two fellow performers were exhilarated. “Seeing the joy in the other drivers and in the crowd … it really touched me.” On the drive home one of the other farmers told Enge, “Hey, if they’re going to do it again, count me in.”

There are some good images of some of the other projects in the Hyperallergic piece and on Wormfarm’s Facebook page.

Now May Be The Best Time For A Story Circle

by:

Joe Patti

At one of my previous positions, I had started a conversation with a local storytelling group about partnering on a curated storytelling series. This conversation happened a month before the outbreak of the pandemic. The series went on more or less as planned, albeit in a much larger space that allowed for social distancing. I credit that series with helping to breakdown perceptual barriers about our venue and who it as for and contributing to the further development of a relationship between under served segments of our community.

A couple weeks ago, Arts Midwest posted a piece about facilitating story circles by Ben Fink. I have written about Fink and the work he did at Appalshop in Whitesburg, KY a few years back. The Arts Midwest piece contains a guide for hosting a story circle, including a link to download the materials. In my former position, we hadn’t used the story circle format, but according to Fink the community can experience similar outcomes.

There are a number of rules for participation he outlines, but one of those appears to be key to the experience is:

And finally (this is important) everyone is asked not to share the story they think of when they hear the initial prompt (more on prompts below), but to listen carefully to the stories that come before theirs, and then to share a story that complements, complicates, contradicts, or otherwise responds to the stories they’ve heard so far.

Near the end Fink provides the following insight from his decade experience participating in story circles:

In a story circle, people who tend to dominate discussions learn to listen, knowing they’ll have their turn to speak and be heard; and people who tend to hold back find themselves speaking up, knowing that no one will interrupt or talk over them. At the end, when the group reflects together about the stories they’ve just heard, they inevitably discover elements of a “story in the center of the circle”–a story that they find, to their surprise, they all somehow share.

The rules and guidelines – and the facilitation guide makes a distinction between the two – are designed to achieve this sort of result where the garrulous listen and the introverted are allowed the space to speak.

Is The Distinction Between Art & Science More A Matter Of Discomfort Than Fact?

by:

Joe Patti

Daniel J. Levitin had a piece in The Walrus this month where he goes on at length about how music is therapy.

In the middle of the article were a couple paragraphs that suggested the dividing line between artists and scientists isn’t as stark as described.

Beyond the usual example of Albert Einstein and other scientists have creative hobbies Levitin seems to suggest that the effort to establish a distinction between art and science may be based in a degree of discomfort with anything that might blur those lines. (my emphasis)

Good medicine relies on clinical judgment, refined through the same sort of trial and error and creative problem solving that artists and scientists use. Both the master physician and master baker must improvise. (Although the thought of a brain surgeon “improvising” may fill you with terror, it’s actually necessary, as neurosurgeon Theodore Schwartz explains. “Not only is the normal anatomy of every human variable, and unique, every tumour has its own configuration that distorts the landscape into which it has dug itself in a slightly different way. Inevitably, the reality we encounter differs from our expectations of what we thought we would find.”)

The most important distinction, then, isn’t in separating artists from scientists and doctors but in separating creative thinkers from formulaic ones, separating those who can tolerate uncertainty from those who cannot. Art, science, and medicine trade in doubt—and in its remedy, improvisation. Moreover, to be effective, the musician, the therapist, the scientist, and the physician must establish a rapport and a relationship of trust with people they may have never met.