Date Night

One day while reading some dense, theoretical Museum Studies text by an author who had pretty staunch, old-fashioned views, I was reminded of another theorist who had expressed similarly ardent principles. My idiosyncratic, wandering brain imagined them having a conversation with each other, nodding enthusiastically in agreement, patting each other on the back and eventually high-fiving over their intellectual commonalities. This progressed into a scene reminiscent of a romantic comedy where the two main characters share a revelation: that they are made for each other!-- only in this case, it's based on say, a shared conviction that museums should avoid blockbuster exhibitions.  For this post, I've decided to share the top 3 Museum Studies theorist couples who were "made for each other" based on their theoretical stances. I've selected a quote from each that illustrates the reasoning behind their pairings.

The first couple: Danielle Rice and Charles W. Haxthausen. Haxthausen has put together an entire book on the separation of art history in museum and academic settings. In the introduction, he writes,

"On the one side is the perception that university-based art history has ceased to be interested in the aesthetic dimensions of the art object; if there is a love of art to be found there, it has become a love that dares not speak its name, at least not in the halls of academe. On the other hand is the view that museums have become part of the entertainment industry, that the social, economic and political conditions of museum work, the unrelenting quest for money and audiences, make serious, critical scholarship an impossibility."

 Similarly, in Rice's article, "Museums: Theory Practice and Illusion," Rice states,

"...Although the past two decades have seen a substantial increase in museological theory, the relationship between theory and practice is irrelevant to most theorists who see museums primarily as ideological symbols of the power relationships in today's culture. On the other hand, while it is not entirely ignorant of theory, most museum practice is too deeply rooted in the politics of competing interests to respond to the structural issues discussed in theoretical literature." 

It sounds like these two have a lot to talk about.

Our next power couple is Hilton Kramer and Lynne Munson. These two are both pretty old-fashioned in their writings and evoke tones that could at times be classified as crotchety. Kramer writes,

"We did not look to the art museum for news, but on the contrary, for what remained vital and enduring after it had ceased to be news. Nowadays, however, we expect of our museums that they will be dynamic rather than stable, that they will no longer be guided by fixed standards or revered traditions, but just the reverse-- that they will shed convention, defy precedent, and shatter established values often and eagerly as the most incendiary avant-gardism of yesteryear."

And Lynne Munson postulates,

"In recent years art museums have begun to resemble other kinds of institutions. Some have blurred their mission with that of trendy galleries, showing work fresh from the artists' studio before history has had a chance to determine its significance. Many museums are beginning to mimic entertainment arenas, converting much of their exhibition space into slick halls designed to excite the masses with blockbuster shows that promote artists like movie stars."

Perhaps these two will snuggle up to each other at Dumbarton Oaks or the National Gallery.

Last but not least, here are your Museum Studies king and queen, John Cotton Dana and Carol Duncan. Both of these notable theorists explored the museum experience with special attention on building structure.
Dana, a pioneer in the field, asserts,

"A building of steel and concrete in a modern American city is not made an appropriate home of the fine art by placing on its front the facade of one or the facades of half a dozen Greek temples or of 15th century Italian palaces. It is impossible to believe that the best Greek architects, if they were the masters in good taste we suppose them to have been, would have continued to make their buildings look as though they were built of columns of stone, with huge girders and crossbeams of the same material, long after they had learned to use steel and concrete in construction."

And Duncan posits,

"Art museums have always been compared to older ceremonial monuments such as palaces or temples. Indeed, from the eighteenth through the mid-twentieth centuries, they were deliberately designed to resemble them. One might object that this borrowing from the architectural past can have only metaphoric meaning and should not be taken for more, since ours is a secular society and museums are secular inventions. If museum facades have imitated temples or palaces, is it not simply that modern taste has tried to emulate the formal balance and dignity of those structures, or that it has wished to associate the power of bygone faiths with the present cult of art?"

Hmm, curated couples. This could go somewhere.

Yellow Kasota Limestone Means We're Sorry

This semester, a particular museum has served as the focus of not only two projects and a paper of mine, but also as the subject of my fascination with how certain previously (and maybe still, currently) underserved cultures are now represented in a post-postmodern, globalized, multicultural, politically correct, and supposedly enlightened society. You've probably guessed that I'm referring to the National Museum of the American Indian.

I should start by saying that this museum is unique because of its approach. Tribespeople were consulted in the creation of the museum and they were involved in making choices about the content and methods of information dissemination.  It's obvious that the Smithsonian made a concerted effort to be as inclusive and sensitive as possible in this effort to celebrate and acknowledge this historically marginalized group. Somewhere along the line, though, there had to be a creative decision made to focus more on contemporary Native Americans, rather than on the 12,000 years of their history. I'm not sure if the Smithsonian purposely did that as to avoid reporting on some messy parts of American history, but anyway...

I personally am a fan of the museum (but then again, the idea of a museum reaching out to hundreds of "ordinary" people to serve as curatorial representatives is a tiny bit threatening to my career aspirations, so maybe I shouldn't be so celebratory). For one, I think the building itself is really interesting and beautiful. I admire the fact that it it distinguishes itself in a city full of stoic federal monoliths. I appreciate the notion that it offers a kind of patchwork experience. Multiple voices, interpretations, etc. might leave you feeling dizzy, but oh well.  Especially because of the abundant programming, it's the kind of place that operates more like a community center. It belongs to the people who are represented.

I sort of think of the museum as a gift, a bouquet of yellow roses from the American government, a metaphorical "our bad" gesture. The feeling that the museum is a sort of consolation does make me feel sort of awkward there, even though my ancestors didn't come to America until semi-recently, after most of the damage had been done. Of course we should be sensitive to other cultures and forthcoming about history, even the messy parts, but it is awkward to carry white guilt with you throughout. I think that's probably inescapable, though.

I grew up with a generation that was pounded with lessons about multiculturalism, awareness, and acceptance. I used to watch a popular cartoon called Captain Planet, and there was a team of teenage environmental activists with special powers who were led by an eco-conscious superhero. What I remember most distinctly about this show is that the team of "Planeteers" was very diverse. This is the kind of thing that was pushed on us-- on TV, in textbooks, etc. As a result (or at least in general), my generation seems to have a pretty good level of sensitivity toward culture/race/gender/orientation. So maybe that's why I'm so positive about the mishmash and reluctant to criticize the museum.  I'm excited by the level of ownership given to/taken by contemporary Native Americans at this institution. A non-European/American approach to non-European/American subject matter? Awesome.

On the other hand, I can understand some of the criticism that it's not scholarly enough, not linear enough and overly homogenizing. A January article in the New York Times about the challenges of establishing the National Museum of African American History and Culture refers to the NMAI as a chance to learn from past mistakes, calling it "incoherent and clinging to romantic cliche." I'm always a fan of scholarship, and maybe in some ways, more professional-grade curatorial guidance would've been nice, but from what I can tell the NMAI is not the only museum venturing away from tradition. From what I can gather as a museum field newcomer, and I could be completely wrong here, the revisionist histories we as museum people have been embracing turns out to have had some residual effects, like a set of new ideas about how stuff should be exhibited in museums in order to maximize appeal and foster the most relevance and relatability possible.

This, of course, leaves us with questions about the role of museums. I think we could make the blanket statement that museums exist to serve their audiences, but what about their "people?" The museum has been criticized for having a Native American point of view-- is it acceptable for the NMAI to be ethnocentric because of the years of misrepresentation and underrepresentation that we (America) are now trying to awkwardly take back and apologize for?

Inside Out

As all the people who read this blog know, I'm currently working on an exhibition project which is focused on what is known as "outsider art." Some important issues have reared their heads regarding this heading, both in class and in my independent research. I've decided that there is a key decision I have to make in order to move on with this project: Do I want this exhibition to be focused on a particular aspect of the content of the artwork (i.e. "fantasy worlds"), in which the artists' emotional, psychological and social states are not the primary focus, or do I want to highlight these kinds of presumably influential factors? If I chose the latter, I'll have to take on the term "outsider art" and delve into some pretty intense existential questions, including one that was raised recently in The Economist : "How important is intent in art?"

The Economist article focused on "The Museum of Everything" in London,  established and curated by James Brett. There are a couple of revenant elements to this story. One is that the museum is in the basement of Selfridge's, a British department store and hotel. Interesting, in light of the issue of consumerism that runs rampant in this blog. Secondly, the museum takes on "outsider art," but Brett doesn't use the term, which, as I mentioned earlier, relates to the issue I'm dealing with at the moment.

It's actually kind of a strange coincidence that my mom sent me this article-- it discusses a retrospective of the work of Judith Scott, one of the artists I've been considering in my own exhibition project. Judith Scott was deaf, mute and was born with Down syndrome. The columnist, E.H., asserts that it's important to know these things about Scott to fully appreciate her work. I personally was more interested in learning about the adult art center where Scott worked and her discovery of fiber as a medium than her disabilities. And what was especially remarkable to me is the idea of a person like Scott, cut off from the world because of being deaf and mute, using art as a means of communication.

So, how do you you group/label "outsider artists" in a way thats inclusive rather than exclusive? "Outsider art" groups artists based on the fact that they are marginalized and outcasted, existing on the fringes of society. But is that in relation to other, more recognized artists, or to everyone? Judith Scott wasn't an outsider at the art center where she worked. In fact, she was probably the most popular artist working there. And what happens once works by artists like Henry Darger are purchased and displayed by museums like the Smithsonian American Art Museum? Is he still an outsider?

It's interesting to me that there is not a universal standard in classifying art. I grew surrounded by family members whose interests lie in math and science, so I'm intrigued when I discover something about my field that defies a specific, rigid structure of rules, classification, and order. I suppose ideally, art is grouped thematically. Cubism, for example, classifies art that captures a specific aesthetic. But art can also be grouped geographically, politically, and as is the case with "outsider art," according to the circumstances of its creators.

The idea that artwork as a whole is abstract, incongruent, difficult to categorize, and forever subject to interpretation and reinterpretation is romantic, but it makes organizing an imaginary show and a real paper pretty difficult.

I'm back to the question posed by the Economist. If it's not fair to group outsider artists by their social or mental position, by their reclusiveness, by their lack of formal training, how about their intent? How important is the fact that these artists (who often do not refer to themselves as such) created this stuff for the sake of creating it? Yeah, so Henry Darger's stuff is in the Smithsonian now. I'm pretty sure that's not what he foresaw happening. He never tried to "make it" as an artist. But I'm also not sure if that makes his art more important or interesting. 

Sigh.

Investing in Museums

Last week, I attended a talk hosted by the Smithsonian titled “Demographics of the Decade: Understanding the Museum Audience of the Future.” The speaker was James Chung from a firm called Reach Advisors. First of all, I had never really thought about companies like Reach Advisors existing. But now that I do, I’m thinking of museums more than ever as competing enterprises, vying to reach the elusive consumer. I'm also more interested in the idea of predicting museum audience trends (especially given the drastic population changes that we see ahead) with the idea that if museums are prepared enough, they can keep up.  In "Prescriptions for the Art Museum in the Decade Ahead," Maxwell Anderson wrote that while, "Once seen primarily as charitable and educational institutions, art museums are now being regarded as incubators of financial return." Sounds bleak.

James Chung's flashy Power Point presentation was loaded with terms like “macro trends” and “income dynamics,” which caused some anxiety in me-- an art student who can appreciate that unfamiliar world, but happily stands apart from it. But hmm, museums as enterprises. This intrigues me-- the idea of a non-profit, public-serving, donor-supported institution performing like a private sector, income-generating concern. How does this affect the prevalence of the nasty commercialism that we fear? That's your cue, Carol Duncan:

"But the idea of the museum as a sanctuary, a place set apart from more mundane concerns, is harder to sustain in big museums like the Metropolitan Museum in New York, the Art Institute in Chicago, or the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. With their crowds of noisy visitors, big advertising budgets, and ever growing dependence on corporate sponsorship--these institutions look more like a part of the business world than a realm apart from it." 

So, is it necessary to keep these realms separate? If so, what can we do to keep them apart, especially given the apparent necessity to market the cultural/entertainment value of museums? 

When is history history?

In the article, "Has Success Spoiled the Art Museum?" Hilton Kramer (whom I wouldn't usually evoke) writes that "we expect of our museums that they will be dynamic rather than stable" and that this "inevitably entails a shift of attention from the permanent to the temporary."

Although Kramer is writing specifically about art museums, I'd like to talk about this idea in terms of Andrei Antonov's private collection of Apple products that he hopes to turn into a museum by the end of the year. Although I'm sure no one is expecting anything big from Andrei, what I'm interested in is the idea of "museum-izing" Steve Jobs...already.

Let me start by saying that the tributes to Jobs have been slightly creepy. I admire the man for his vision and undeniable mastery of innovation, but reverence for the whole "I didn't finish college but I made tons of money selling you widely popular electronics" thing is strange. I saw a sign dropped off by an Apple consumer to one of their stores that said something like "Thanks for my iPad; you will be missed." People really think in these terms?

But anyway, I think my anxiety about immediately historicizing Jobs' work helps me to maintain perspective. What does the sense of immediacy we have in tributizing Jobs and our apparent obsession with nostalgia say about our methods of interpreting and documenting history? And why is his work more relevant now that he's dead?

The National Portrait Gallery responded immediately to Jobs' death by hanging a portrait of him from their permanent collection under the heading "In Memoriam" along with a label, and as a label-writing intern who walks by that portrait constantly, I keep thinking, "How would you write that label?"

I mean, do we need a minute? When is history history?

Blue Collar vs Black Turtleneck

Speaking of corporate money funding museum enterprises, exactly a month from today, the Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art opens in the cultural hotspot that is Bentonville, Arkansas.

Founded by the Walmart heiress, Alice Walton, the museum has been aggressively collecting notable American masterpieces, forming a collection that situates it as one of the best in the country. And, a $20 million donation from Walmart has eliminated admission fees forever.

There are so many issues surrounding this museum that deserve further exploration:

1) The oddity that is a Walmart-sponsored art museum. 

2) Alice Walton's purchase from Fisk University's Steiglitz collection. Her museum isn't even open yet and Alice is already breaking the rules pretty aggressively, reminiscent of the cutthroat world of capitalism. 

3) The "Walton-effect": Alice Walton's readiness to snag any and every significant American painting to come up for sale. This freaks out the art world ("She's got Asher Durand's 'Kindered Spirits'? Noooo!" D: ).
4) According to the Washington Post, the art world thinks the museum is "too rich, too conservative, and too reflexively American" to be considered a "major player." An American Art Museum being too reflexively American...hmmm. 

5) A self-proclaimed modern/progressive cultural institution outfitted with an architecturally chic space in the presumably socially-conservative state of Arkansas. I've been to Arkansas-- this is weird.  

6) The migration of hundreds of American masterpieces to the rural south, in effect highlighting the rugged, landscape-y, transcontinental aspects distinct to the spirit of American Art...pretty cool, actually.
7) Because Crystal Bridges is an institution that apparently cares about cultural betterment and universal access, Walmart's corporate slogan ("Save Money, Live Better") oddly works for the museum, too.

BUT, what I'd like to focus on is the relation this story has to this week's reading: James B. Twitchell's article, "Museumworld: The Art of Branding Art." Twitchell writes that "Most museums...claim to have a higher calling than competing for market share. They are not soiled by the workday world. They don't sell a product. They are not an industry..." This remark is really interesting to consider in terms of the Crystal Bridges Museum, aka the Walmart Museum. There isn't a corporation that better embodies the sprit of American consumerism and capitalism than Walmart, and now it has a museum. According to its website, "Walmart Stores, Inc., is in no way connected to the development, construction or planning of the museum or the development and ownership of the permanent collection," but I'm curious to know how much Walmart Stores, Inc. advertises it's stake in Crystal Bridges. From Walmart's point of view, why wouldn't they flaunt their philanthropic efforts? We'll have to keep an eye on the impact of the museum in Arkansas and beyond.

I'd like to end with an insightful and relevant question posed by my fellow culture warrior/blog fan/dad after discussing the cultural impact of a Walmart-funded museum: "Will there be greeters?"

The Guccinheim

Last week in Florence, Italy the Museo Gucci, a "museum" dedicated to the legacy of the 90-year-old fashion house opened its doors. An A-List party was thrown in celebration of the opening and both The New York Times' review and The Guardian's review  of the event (found in their respective online Style sections) highlighted the musical performances and celebrity appearances of the evening, of course discussed who was wearing what, and thennn....criticized the place for not being museum-y enough? I thought that was my job. 


Both articles picked up on the awkwardness of throwing a party as flashy and modern as this one in the Palazzo Vecchio, in which thousands of years of Italian history are embodied. And both the Times and the Guardian, in some way or another, touched on the juxtaposition between the fleeting, temporal nature of fashion and the arresting staying power of really old Renaissance art. Yay!


But wait, what was that Jess Cartner-Morley, fashion blogger for The Guardian? You were "disappointed in the museum" because "it felt lacking in narrative"? Similarly, in The Times' article, "Rocking the Palazzo with Gucci," (yes, that is the real title) Eric Wilson weighs in on couple of bummers: "There was some grumbling that the museum, called Museo Gucci, might have glossed over some key moments, like that whole murder thing." Wilson also astutely observes that, "if this were your only source material, you might think that Tom Ford's greatest contribution to the house was a snorkel-and-flipper set from 2000" (I'm still not sure if he intended for that statement to be hilarious). Whoa, hold the phone. Concerns about misrepresentation and the absence of historical narrative!? Sounds oddly familiar. 


By far the weirdest thing about this piece of news is that after weeks of examining the issue of museums succumbing to commercialism and commodification, an internationally-recognized commercial brand attempts to essentially reverse the process: to institutionalize itself. And what happens?  Fashion correspondents, of all people, complain that they "[want] the stories behind the piles of early-edition monogrammed luggage." 


I suppose we have all come to expect museums to live up to certain standards, no matter the content nor the audience. I'll take that as a really good sign. 

"Being good in business is the most fascinating kind of art." -Andy Warhol

Currently, there are two Andy Warhol exhibitions being put on by the Smithsonian, one at the National Gallery and one at the Hirshorn. I saw both of these shows in the same day and probably the most memorable thing about both of them was the explosion of Andy Warhol merchandise spewing from the gift shops.

At the Hirshorn, a display was set up leading into the gift shop offering/pushing merchandise that was endorsed by the curator, resting under a sign reading, "Curator's Pick!" Things were even more eerily consumption-focused at the National Gallery. Besides having to walk through three gift shops (all overflowing with Warhol memorabilia) on the way to see his work, there was a case placed at the end of the exhibit full of notebooks, coffee mugs, etc, all carefully arranged and displayed in a softly lit case serving to remind visitors of what they could buy on their way out (in case they forgot about the three stores or what was for sale in them). At first I thought, "Oh, here's more of the exhibit," which I think might have been the museum's creepy intention. They used the integrity of the gallery space and the significance of a glass case to pimp out Andy Warhol stuff. And the merchandise for sale was not representative of the work of Warhol's that was exhibited. So if I had bought said merchandise, it would not technically be a souvenir of the experience. Instead, it would mark participation in commodifying the art and branding the artist. 

I suppose this product pushing especially stood out to me because Andy Warhol is obsessed with issues of commodification and branding in his work (especially in the work displayed). In fact, Warhol himself said, "When you think about it, department stores are kind of like museums." I'm pretty sure selling Andy Warhol tote bags was not a creative decision that extended from the exhibition or from Andy Warhol, but the National Gallery could have played with that idea a little. 

But anyway, how does this commercialism affect museum audiences?  To quote Carol Duncan, "The ever greater and more visible amounts of museum space given over to commerce has the effect of eroding the museum's special status as a commerce-free zone." And I agree with Duncan. Museums "must be expected to observe the boundary between 'high' and 'popular' culture." Otherwise, we would lose faith in museums as educational and cultural protectors and transmitters. We would be scrutinizing the motives of museums and questioning the messages they transmit the same way we do with corporations. 

And related to last week's post, here is a hilarious bit from The Onion that perfectly sums up my points. 

Never Forget

Recently, the National Museum of American History exhibited its 9/11 collection to commemorate the ten year anniversary of the terrorist attacks. This led me to research how the country is remembering, teaching,  and honoring the attacks, the victims, the victims' families and how these groups intersect. In my research I stumbled upon the mission of the museum on the World Trade Center site:

"THE MISSION of the Memorial Museum, located at the World Trade Center site, is to bear solemn witness to the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 and February 26, 1993. The Museum honors the nearly 3,000 victims of these attacks and all those who risked their lives to save others. It further recognizes the thousands who survived and all who demonstrated extraordinary compassion in the aftermath. Demonstrating the consequences of terrorism on individual lives and its impact on communities at the local, national, and international levels, the Museum attests to the triumph of human dignity over human depravity and affirms an unwavering commitment to the fundamental value of human life."

I found the wording to be dogmatic and dramatic (especially the part which says, "the Museum attests to the triumph of human dignity over human depravity"), and evoked images of red state bumper stickers (like, "NEVER FORGET.")

Additionally, the first two goals are to "bear solemn witness" and to "honor the nearly 3000 victims." These don't seem to mesh with Paul M. Rea's idea of the function of the museum. In "What are Museums For?" he writes that the function of museums is "the acquisition and preservation of objects, the advancement of knowledge by the study of objects, and the diffusion of knowledge for the enrichment of the life of the people."

In other words, museums should educate and elucidate, which the Memorial Museum will probably do in some capacity by acting as preservers of a historically significant event. But overall, it seems like an emotional response is what they are going for. Are the objects in this museum artifacts or relics? It's hard to tell.

Another museum which dually serves a memorial is the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. Their mission reads:

"The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum is America’s national institution for the documentation, study, and interpretation of Holocaust history, and serves as this country’s memorial to the millions of people murdered during the Holocaust."

While it also serves as a place of remembrance, the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum prioritizes the dissemination of information, which is what a museum should do. 


Wether they also entertain, celebrate, or honor, the contract museums have with their audiences dictates that their purpose is to educate, and if museums are not doing this, they are underserving their audiences. 

Revision of My Prejudices

Well, it is convenient that as an Art and Museum Studies major, there is a lot of overlap of issues in the readings and in class discussion, because this week I came across the most appropriate article for this blog discussion. Actually, I felt like it applied more to this blog than to the assignments of the class it was assigned for. I'm speaking of "Museums in the Age of Deconstruction" by Michael Ames.

The portion of Ames' article which I was most interested in is titled "The Politics of Public Taste: Pornography and Blasphemy" and it discusses a time when United States Congress representatives and senators threatened to cut the budget of the National Endowment of the Arts for financing a Robert Maplethorpe exhibition and an Andres Serrano exhibition. (He also gives the details of a similar situation in Canada, but I'll skip that.) Ames goes on to ask the following questions: "What is art, who is it for, who pays for it, who calls the tune?"

When I think of the Hide/Seek exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery, I think, "Obviously the art at the National Portrait Gallery is for The Nation, not specifically the Catholic League which called for the removal of part of the show. As I go further in Ames' article, I feel more and more impassioned about this issue. Especially when he drops this beautiful John Updike quote (No, really, John Updike. As in, the author of The Witches of Eastwick. Apparently he writes about art, too.):

"It is perhaps the nature of modern art to be offensive. It wishes to astonish us and invites a revision of our prejudices. If we are not willing to risk giving offense, we have no claim to the title of artists, and if we are not willing to face the possibility of being ourselves revised, offend and changed by a work of art, we should leave the book unopened, the picture unveiwed, and the symphony unheard." 

So just as I'm attaining this high of poetic righteousness a la John Updike, Ames plays devil's advocate. I mean, I understand the pressures that were put on the director of the Portrait Gallery. The risk of cut funds, the pressure to serve the widest of audiences.... but Ames brings new light to the issue. He asks if we should set limits out of respect for the community standards of the for sensitivities of others. He points out that that lunatic Jesse Helms is probably not the only person with these sensitivities. Ames questions, "Is art now to be considered such an absolute value that no other standard- no standard of taste, no social or moral standard- is to be allowed to play a role in determining what sort of art is appropriate for the government to support?"

It is the way Ames speaks of art as being an absolute value that really gets me thinking. I guess the idea of the government censoring anything is a frightening one because it seems like it opens the door to even more control over what we Americans are exposed (or not exposed) to. But Ames' does raise some very important questions. I'm still very much in favor of the first amendment and I'm still upset that political pressure resulted in the removal of part of David Wojnarowicz's work, but I am thinking more carefully about the breadth of the audience and the status of art as an "absolute value."

What duties do museums have to their audiences?

In a very broad sense, the issue I have chosen to use this blog to focus on is: the social contract that museums have with the public. That is, I want to explore the relationships museums have with their patrons and how these relationships have evolved over time. I'm interested in the implications of being a government-funded institution and the responsibilities museums have to their audiences.

My interest in this topic was piqued by John Cotton Dana's article, "The Gloom of the Museum." Dana's  discussion of the atmosphere and location of museums, the arrangement of objects within, the monetary worth and rarity of a museum artifacts, and the duties museums have to their audiences have caused me to reassess some of the experiences I have had in museums.

I'm still considering subsets of this broad topic, but since my college thesis research was centered heavily around Nazi Germany's exhibition of entartete Kunst, or "degenerate art,"  "Cultural Gatekeeping" seems like a good place to begin.  The issues surrounding the "Hide/Seek" exhibit by David Wojnarowicz come to mind immediately, but I plan on exploring more instances of censorship and propagana within our cultural institutions.

'Till then.