Summer Exhibition Inspiration

Every year those of us in the cultural tourism industry wonder about what will draw an audience for the summer, thereby giving us another reprieve from closure for another year.

Startling recent exhibitions such as the V&A's 'Disobedient Objects' and the British Museum's 'Germany: memories of a nation' put objects are front and centre to reveal powerful stories. The scale of these exhibitions may be a little beyond the resources of the Museum of Unreason. Lacking money, objects and specialist knowledge has never held us back before but what I lack at the moment is inspiration. I need something different, something cheap and something unreasonable? Which museums could potentially inspire us?


Barney Smith's Toilet Seat Art Museum, San Antonio, TX, USA
https://plus.google.com/110249973969381621124/about?gl=uk&hl=en

Going to see the Alamo? Then afterwards make an appointment with a museum created by a retired plumber who is even older than me. Folk art on toilet seats? A possible crowd curation summer exhibition awaits here at Unreason.


Maguro Parasitological Museum, Japan http://www.kiseichu.org/Pages/english.aspx

In the words of the museum advertising,

'Try to think about parasites without a feeling of fear,

and take the time to learn about their wonderful world of the Parasites.'

Who wouldn't be on the first plane to the far east to explore this museum? Short of a changing the Museum of Unreason's Collection Policy I fear we may be short of enough items for us to display a similar exhibition.


Museum of Questionable Medical Devices (now part of the Science Museum of Minnesota in St. Paul) http://www.museumofquackery.com/

I love the web address http://www.museumofquackery.com/ of the virtual tour. The honesty of the collection is very appealing. Let's put on display loads of useless objects, highlighting the ignorance and folly of humanity. The Museum of Unreason has many, many useless objects - exhibition possibilities are beginning to form in my mind.

Vent Haven Ventriloquist Museum, Fort Mitchell, KY, USA venthavenmuseum.com
'A must for those who employ the use of dummies'. Something we can all relate to perhaps. A cutting social commentary exhibition for the summer?


The Mutter Museum, Philadelphia, PA, USA http://muttermuseum.org/

For the truly weird you can't go far wrong with medical museums and exhibitions. The Mutter Museum is a vast collection of medical abnormalities (I wonder what it's contemporary collecting policy looks like). I'm afraid my new ethically approach to exhibitions prevents me from sticking horns on cat skeletons any more. The same problem also applies to the...

The Icelandic Phallological Museum, Reykjavik, www.phallus.is

Who wouldn't want to get their hands on a penis shaped bottle opener from the shop - perhaps not suitable for our core family audience.


More promising is the....

Museum of Bad Art, various sites in Boston, MA, USA http://www.museumofbadart.org/

How many of you have bad art in your collection? This has real possibilities as a way of curating our art collection. Next week's plan of action is to get into the stores and find the real rubbish that will never see the light of day and brings into question the sanity of previous curators' collection decisions. What will be the narrative thread? 'Bad Art: images of Unreason' possibly. Or 'Unreason Objects: memories of place'

Summer is sorted. Book your tickets now!

Je Suis un Droit Charlie

The latest round of violence and intolerance has led to a period of sustained reflection here in Unreason. The hypocrisy and anger on display over the past weeks have led me to ponder my own values and where I,  as a 'culture worker', stand. I find myself being either unreasonably reasonable or reasonably unreasonable - but most of all simply unreasoning.

While pondering the consultation that the UK's Museums Association is undertaking on it's code of ethics, I was drawn back to the I Ching or Book of Changes. My new found soul has persuaded me to remove our 'original' manuscripts from the wall above the gents urinals intended as inspiring reading. They have been replaced with advertising for up-coming events.

Let me start with a Confucian analect, 'Cultivated people foster what is good in others, not what is bad. Petty people do the opposite.' I've been hanging onto that idea recently.

From a conversation with a disciple, he unpicks what it is to be human and humane.

"You are humane if you can practice five things in the world: respectfulness, magnanimity, truthfulness, acuity, and generosity. If you are respectful, you won't be despised. If you are magnanimous, you will win people. If you are truthful you will be trusted. If you are acute, you will be successful. If you are generous, you will be able to employ people."

If the point of 'culture' is that it cultivates humanity and the well-being of society, then museums have a very powerful role to play in the regeneration of that society through education and understanding.

Are we prepared and able to step forward and take on that responsibility? Perhaps not (yet) but let us try. Then we are properly preserving the past in the present to enable a better future.

Put this idea into action and you can sit back and you can not only say, "Je suis Charlie" but "Je suis un droit Charlie."

Do Not Touch: signage as part of your new interpretation strategy

DO NOT TOUCH is a phrase that is inscribed on the heart of every museum curator that ever lived. What existential angst we have gone through in recent years as we have been encouraged to increase access to our collections. More on display? More in open storage? More in handling collections? Look! See! Touch! At which point the curator collapses into a chair clutching his or her lapel pocket pens with an attack of the vapours.

Has the phrase been abandoned in museums as one of those quaint sayings of the people of the 20th Century? Or does it have a use in the enlightened 21st Century cultural organisation?
As part of my new innovative approach I have been removing the signs wherever possible to become a museum that invites interaction rather than prevents it. As a result I have sitting on my desk a rather large pile of these notices. My museum consciousness has kicked in and I don't just want to throw them out. Given that the removal of theses signs are part of the physical act of reimagining cultural space, can I reimagine the signs and the phrase?

One needs only look to the surrealists and dadaists for inspiration.

How about going into your museum lift, covering the buttons with hinged perspex box with one of your 'do not touch' signs attached to it. Given the need to touch buttons to get the lift operational, you've have now elevated (elevated - get it?) this form of vertical transport into a museum art work, you have challenged the visitor to consider issues of access versus conservation and challenged the decision making of those in charge of material culture heritage ("what idiot put that there!"). Will they lift the box lid? Or will they use the stairs? Whatever their decision, you will guarantee dwell time has increased and they will never look at lift buttons in the same way again. You have created a new perspective on a utilitarian object and perhaps directly contributed to improving visitors' health by making them take more exercise.

This sort of thinking takes us into the surreal world of Duchamp, Ernst, Dali et al. Yet they were just not imaginative enough to normalise surreal perspectives into every day life. Weird moustaches, lobster telephones and graffito on a urinal is simply half-hearted.

This is clearly the way forward. The use of the obvious signage in surreal and challenging ways to take us way beyond 'This is not a Pipe' mannered Magritte artwork. To put a sign in a lift saying 'This is not a lift' invites the response, 'Oh yes it is!' The only solution is to put another notice at the far end of the lift reading. 'Oh no it isn't!' at which point you have created a pantomime - the lowest of art forms. 'Do not touch' works much better.

What would you think if you were confronted with the following outside of the art gallery?:

'Keep out of direct sunlight' - on sunglasses 

'Do Not Disturb' - on an alarm clock snooze button

'No Parking' - in a car parking space written in very small letters that can only be read once you've parked.

'Keep Off the Grass' - on an astroturf football pitch 

'No Exit' - over the entrance of a crematorium

'Do Not Bend' - in a yoga class instruction video

'This Way Up Only' - on a football

'Stop' - on the green traffic light

'Fragile' - on a sledgehammer

So it is time to rethink museum signage as part of your interpretive strategy, as part of the art collection. When you replace your  Fire Exit signs will you accession them into your collection? Or put them over a single door reserved for staff you've just made redundant?

I'm currently working on the 'ladies and 'gents' toilet signs, but haven't yet come up with anything that won't result in legal action as 'Do not touch' moves the visitor into an area of Catholic guilt best left for the confessional- all alternative suggestions welcome.

Kitchens Are the Museums of the Future

Have you ever considered your kitchen as the cultural world in microcosm? No? I would therefore heartily recommend several pints of Theakston's Old Peculier. At this point the Zen like state you have achieved on the kitchen floor will inevitably lead to enlightenment. So, prior to your trip to the off licence, let me enlighten you.

When Tracey Emin challenged us all with 'My Bed' in 1998 she singularly missed the point. The bed is an elemental, recidivistic locus of return and repose. It is not a cultural item. It is not art. It is not a museum exhibit. How do I know? I've never snored in a museum. Have you? I may have dribbled slightly in both, but that in and of itself is not a cultural act.

But what is a kitchen? It is the heart of our existence, but is it central to your life? Are you in and out quickly with a microwaved dinner and a teabag in a mug type of person? In which case you are not gaining the most from your own internal museum.  Or do you luxuriate in everything the space has to offer - a place where you are in control of your experience and where your decisions are at the heart of the activity. It is the ultimate participatory museum - the Holy Grail for the modern museum professionals.

You could argue that the living room is the museum of the past, where we are sponges to the single authorial voice of the TV. We think we have free will and choice, but that cannot explain the popularity of Emmerdale. Participation only takes the form of X Factor freak show frolics, a freephone vote is NOT true participation.

Therefore stop reading this blog on your tablet in front of the TV and go and sit in the kitchen to read the rest.

Explore your gallery (the fridge) the white cube that often offers challenging magnetised conceptual art and knowledge of Confucian depth that references the past in a postmodern way, "Keep Calm and Eat Chocolate' - well mine does anyway.

Then let your eyes wander over to the stores (cupboards - or for traditionalists a Welsh Dresser). Designed for easy access and exploration. You can change the displays at will, all stored items are an open drawer or cupboard door away. Offering items of varying antiquity (I still find my spurtle* useful for a whole range of activities), ubiquity and usefulness. Where else would you find, fine art, decorative art and working objects. Just like a proper museum store there are objects that you don't know what it is, others that you are sure you have but can't find and several items of the same thing for no explicable reason.

Then move onto the interactives (sink) to explore the physics and chemistry of the real world through work and play. And just like the best interactives they encourage team work - wash, dry or put away? And experimentation with ideas about science and life itself. You may wish to read my blog on mixer taps to understand the deeper philosophical and spiritual issues underlying hot and cold water. 

Look at the National Trust heritage (kitchen bin) and get a real sense and smell of biology in action. Just this time replacing the overwhelming sense of lavender with something infinitely earthier and medieval.

The latest Arts Council cultural strategic 'Goal 3' of environmental sustainability is to be found in the recycle bin and ideal for attracting schools by helping with their slimmed down complementary curriculum as part of the the recent National Curriculum changes.

Finally, being an underfunded cultural entity you will notice the absence of a dishwasher.

So there you have it. Your kitchen is a modern museum. Look it again with fresh eyes and realise we don't just have 2,500 museums in the UK, but 25,000,000  - our cultural heritage is booming!

So respect your kitchen more and begin to charge and entry fee.

*a flat, wooden, spatula-like utensil, used for flipping oatcakes on a hot girdle

Movie Museum Cafe and Restaurant News

Having a good offer in your museum cafe or restaurant is important to increase secondary spend. You need to find a menu that is distinctive, appropriate to the content of your museum and provides a good profit margin. A brief trawl through the Variety Museums Journal has led to some interesting dos and don'ts for movie museum cafes and restaurants. Here are 10 to consider, reflect upon, and possibly regurgitate.

Silence of the Lambs Museum
Fava beans and chianti have been removed from the cafe menu due to customer complaints

Similarly, the Fatal Attraction Museum has removed its boiled rabbit due to complaints, mainly from male, customers.

Withnail and I Museum
Apparently the museum restaurant now serves the finest wines available to humanity.

Some Like It Hot Museum
Is now serving Jell-O on springs

Monty Python and the Holy Grail Museum
Catering manager reports hamster stuffed with elderberries is their best seller

Forrest Gump Museum
Has taken the bold step of selling their chocolates in plain wrappers so that you don't know what you are going to get.

Pulp Fiction Museum
Apparently has had legal problems with its 'Royale with Cheese' burgers

From Russia With Love Museum
Serving red wine with fish has proved to be a fatal mistake

Wall Street Museum
Has apparently closed its cafe because it believes lunch is for wimps

What's New Pussycat Museum
The peppered salmon on the menu for 'real cinefiles' has been removed by the local environmental health department.

Stave 5: The End of It

The bedpost was his own. The bed was his own, the room was his own, the heavily thumbed copy of the Museums Journal on the bedside table was his own. Best of all the time before him was his own.

"I will work on the past in the present for the future!" Frank cried as he scrambled off the bed.

"I am here!" whooped Frank, "the shadows of the things that would have been may be dispelled. They will be! I know they will."

"I don't know what to do!" shrieked Frank, both laughing and crying in the same breath. "I am as happier than a Strictly Come Dancing judge, I am as jolly as Wetherspoon's Happy Hour clientele. A merry Christmas to everybody! A happy New Year to the museum world!"

"I don't know what day of the month it is," said Frank. "I don't know how long I've been among the Spirits. I don't know how to run a museum properly. I KNOW NOTHING! Never mind. It's time to learn!"

Running to the window, he opened it and put out his head. No fog, no mist; clear, bright, stirring and cold.

"What's today?" shouted Frank calling to a boy who happened to be passing.

"Eh?" grunted the boy looking at him strangely.

"What's today, my fine fellow?" said Frank.

"Today?" replied the boy. "It's Christmas Day you daft old coot...merry Christmas." But before the boy could escape Frank shouted;

"It's Christmas Day, I haven't missed it. What a night! Do you know the 24 hour convenience shop on the corner?"

The boy nodded slowly, wondering what was coming next.

"Is the 'Unreason's Largest Turkey' still in the window?" said Frank.

"What the inflatable purple one as big as me?" said the boy doubtfully.

"Yes! yes! Go and buy it and bring it here. Here's a tenner, if you are back in less than 10 minutes I'll double it with an extra fiver!" hollered Frank.

The boy was off like a shot.

"I'll tell the boy to take it to Rob Scratchit's, it's twice the size of Slimy Jim."

Soon the boy wrestled the massive turkey back to the flat. Cackling wildly, Frank paid the boy, sent him off to the Scratchit house with the inflatable poultry, with a card that read 'Merry Christmas from Museum of Unreason be at the museum at 9:30am this morning'.

Frank then dressed in his finest tweed, stuffed his pockets with spare museum entrance tickets and went out into the chilly streets of Unreason. He greeted everyone he met with a, "Good morning sir or madam. A merry Christmas to you from the Museum of Unreason. Have tickets to the Museum of Unreason's Christmas and New Year extravaganza."

Frank had not gone far when he came upon the couple of carol singers he had kicked out of the museum the day before, warbling away outside the Unreason scrap metal dealers. "Come come with me, come to the museum and bring your festive cheer to the front steps, I will guarantee a substantial donation to your charity."

The ladies look dumbfounded.

"Don't say anything please," said Frank. "Come now, will you come, you will you be part of the new improved Museum of Unreason."

"We will!" cried the old dears. And it was clear they meant to do it.

Frank went to the church, walked the streets, patted children on the head, invited beggars to the museum. He had never dreamed that any walk..that anything... could give him so much happiness. He then turned towards his nephew's house.

After much hesitation, Frank knocked on the door and went straight in. He surprised his nephew and wife jointly sampling an early morning eggnog latte in the kitchen.

"Why bless my soul," said the nephew (or words to that effect).

"It's I, your uncle Frank. I have come to invite myself to dinner this evening and be a litterbug in your house!" at which point Frank showered the floor with ten pound notes. "Merry Christmas! See you later."

Frank then ran towards the Museum. He wanted to get there before 9:30 and hopefully catch Rob Scratchit coming in late.

And he did it. Somewhat breathless he sat there as the clock struck  nine thirty. No Rob. Nine forty-five, no Rob. Frank began to worry, perhaps Rob wouldn't do as he told - for the first time ever.

At 5 minutes to 10, Rob stomped in.

"Hallo," growled Frank, in his usual manner, "What do you mean coming in at this time of day?"

"I'm very sorry, sir, but my wife said I shouldn't come at all," replied Rob."It's Christmas, it's only once a year!" he pleaded.

"Now, I'll tell you what, my friend," said Frank, "I am not going to stand for this sort of thing any longer. And therefore'" he continued, "we need someone to handle all the new visitors for our Christmas extravaganza starting in 35 minutes. It attracts a competitive salary, but they need to start now - can you do it?"

Rob trembled, he momentarily thought of calling the NHS helpline to ask what to do if faced with a case of temporary insanity. Instead he just nodded dumbly.

"A merry Christmas Rob, now lets get this place looking festive and open the doors," said Frank as he clapped Rob on the back, "make this day a success, and I'll immediately raise the starting salary, take on Slimy Jim as an apprentice, and listen to all your ideas for innovative customer friendly displays and events."

Rob gibbered quietly to himself, then set to work with a purpose.

Outside, on the museum steps, the sound of the carol singers came through the door as they began, 'Once in Royal Unreason City'.

People began to gather curious at the change that had overcome Frank and the museum. Revellers on the way to the pub for a quick lunchtime pint before the Christmas turkey stopped and never  left, mesmerised by large quantities of Frank's unique gluhwein recipe. Rob's family came along to see where he was and began to join in the family friendly Christmas activities.

"God bless you Frank," said Rob's wife, whilst landing a sloppy gluhwein tasting kiss on Frank's lips.

Frank's nephew and family dropped in and were immediately swept away into the partying throng.

At the end of the day, the Museum of Unreason had had more visitors in one day than ever before.

Frank was better than his word. He kept his promise to Rob. He did it all and infinitely more; and to Slimy Jim, who went on to have a stellar career in the cultural sector, he became his AMA mentor. He became as good a friend, as good a museum manager, and as good a man, as the good old town of Unreason knew. Some people laughed to see the alteration in the museum, but they began to visit out of curiosity, then out of fun, then out of love for the old place. The Museum of Unreason not only began to have visitors, but a friends group, a fundraising group and a town that began to care about its history and past.

Frank himself had no further intercourse with ghostly curators; and it was always said of him, that he knew how to run good Christmas museum events. May that be truly said of all us museum professionals. And so, as Slimy Jim observed,

God Bless Museums, Every One of Them!

Stave 4: The Last of the Curators

The Phantom slowly, gravely, silently approached. It was shrouded in a deep black shapeless garment, which concealed its form. Nothing beneath was visible. The figure glided to the side of Frank.

"Am I in the presence of the Ghost of Curators Yet To Come?" said Frank.

The Spirit answered not, but emitted a strange electronic burble. A eerie light shone from beneath the robe downwards.

Frank feared the silent shape so much that his legs trembled beneath him and he could hardly stand as he tried to follow it. The Spirit paused and waited, Frank sensed a tutting sound coming from beneath the cowl.

"Lead on," said Frank, "the night is waning fast. Lead on Spirit."

They scarcely seemed to be out of the flat when the vast expanse of the downtown metropolis of New Unreason spread before them. They swooped down to overhear a conversation.

"No," said a fat man with a monstrous set of chins, "I don't know much about it, either way. I only know it has closed."

"When?" inquired another.

"Sometime ago apparently, but nobody noticed for many months. It was only discovered last night when a couple of American tourists arrived searching for their ancestors. They had read on the internet that Unreason had a museum with the most magnificent archive in England of family records for unfeasibly rich Americans. They turned up, tried to open the door and the knob came off in their hands, closely followed by the door slowly falling outwards and covering the wife under a pile of woodworm dust. Inside they found his skeleton.

"It's likely to be a very cheap funeral," said some speaker. This pleasantry was received with a general laugh.

Speakers and listeners gradually strolled away, and mixed with other groups. Frank looked to the Curator for an explanation.

The Phantom whirred then glided on. Its light pinpointed to two persons meeting. Frank listened again.

"How are you?" said one.

"How are you?" returned the other.

"Well!" said the first. "I heard they've got rid of that boring, boring museum at last and that arse of a Curator whatsisname."

"So I am told," returned the second.

Not another word. That was their meeting, their conversation and their parting.

Frank shuddered whilst, quiet and dark beside him the Phantom hovered and occasionally beeped. They left the busy scene and into an area of ill repute that Frank had only occasionally visited. In this den of infamy there was a low-browed shop where second hand goods were traded. Frank and the Curator came into the presence of a man behind the counter. He was talking to a couple of suited gentleman, clearly agents of a more wealthy client.

"Come into the back office, just wait until I shut the door of the shop." said the shop owner.

"There's not much I'm afraid, most of the good stuff has gone, the remainder are getting some bids on eBay. There are a few pieces, which he was keeping for himself, wicked old screw."

The man opened up a bundle. It was not extensive, a royal seal or two, a pencil case with Turner etched on the back, a pair of sleeve buttons worn by Winston Churchill on his only visit to Unreason and a brooch made by Rene Lalique. They were severally examined and appraised by the agents and a trade was made, whilst the old shopkeeper gently removed the accession numbers.

"I hope he didn't die of anything catching ,"said the shopkeeper, "but it is a shame he has gone, at least they are not housed in boring glass cases gathering dust in the museum for no purpose at all. No one cares."

"This is the end of it," he continued, "He frightened everyone away from the museum when he was alive, and sold items for his personal profit, and now we profit from his death and the death of culture in Unreason. Ha, ha, ha!"

Frank recoiled in horror, but the scene changed almost immediately, he was in a room - too dark to be observed with any accuracy. But a pale light emanated from the Curator and fell upon the body of a man whose rotted tweed jacket still had the pens visible in his breast pocket.

The body lay in the dark empty museum, with not a man, a woman, or a child to visit. There was only the sound of gnawing rats beneath the showcases.

'Spirit," said Frank, "this is a dreadful place. In leaving it, I shall not leave its lesson. Did anyone care about the loss of the museum?"

The Phantom spread its robe, to reveal a crystal clear HD screen in its chest. On it there was a mother and her children were. It was Rob Scratchit's house. They were clearly expecting someone.

At length the long-expected knock was heard. She hurried to the door and met her husband. A man whose face was careworn and depressed, though he was still young.

"It is the end of the dream," he said eventually, "He is dead and it is closed. The Job Centre Plus for me tomorrow. It will break Slimy Jim's heart."

Away the Phantom went with Frank at his side and at last the landed in the Unreason churchyard. Frank looked at the name on the gravestone, trembling as he wiped away the Mcdonald's wrappers and pizza boxes from in front of it. He read his own name, Frank Rasin.

"No, Spirit! Oh no, no! At least they could have gotten my name right," wailed Frank.

"Curator!" he cried clutching at its robe, "hear me. I am not the museum professional I was. I will not be the man I must have been. Am I past all hope?"

"From now on I will honour museums in my heart. I will ethically preserve the past in the present for future generations. I will not shut out the lessons of tonight!"

Turning to the Ghost, he saw an alteration in the Curator's hood and robe. It shrank, collapsed and dwindled down into a bedpost.


Next: chapter 5: The End of It.