Video Killed the Diorama Star

This visit to the Academy of Natural Sciences (ANS) was the second in two weeks for me.  I was there a couple weeks ago to attend a GEOfest lecture about traveling around Europe.  Before the lecture, I had some time to browse the museum, but I was mostly uninterested.  Having seen the dioramas of (what I thought were) taxidermy animals many times before, I was mostly trying to kill time.  However, this class visit helped me understand the value of these dioramas and the important stories they tell about connecting the past to the present and the connection of art and science.

The original main attraction of ANS is the life size dioramas depicting a diversity of animals and their natural habitats.  These exhibits were high tech in their day – the discovery channel of the 1930s – and yet are still fascinating today.  Every detail was hand-crafted as accurately from as possible, from strectching animal skin over casts to individual leaves, and is based off of photographs.  The dioramas’ complete history may not be understood by a public visitor and therefore may be overlooked.  However, the new exhibit in development will help the public understand the extent of manual labor and research that was put into the making of these exhibits in the 1930s.  As Michelle Henning states, new media should “modernize, popularize, and increase the efficiency” of “old-fashioned” institutions (302).  Visitors will be able to touch samples of hand crafted trees and boulders while reading about how the dioramas were made.  However, this new exhibit is expensive, costing $50,000.  For perspective, this amount is one year’s earnings for the Museum of Jurassic Technology (Weschler).  Through hands on exhibits and stories of the development, visitors will develop a personal connection to the ANS that they may otherwise lack with undeveloped science museums like the Wagner. 

It corresponds with the “Art of Science” gallery which also blurs the line between science and art by showcasing objects through different mediums.  ANS competes with their more ostentatious neighbor the Franklin Institute.  This new exhibit will be an improvement on their outdated ‘video room;’ I only hope it adds to the dioramas rather than becoming the focus of attention, “brighter and more full of promise than any of the other exhibits” (Smith 544).  Some may be reluctant to accept the incorporation of media into a traditional institution such as ANS and fear over-commercialization (Henning 302).  However, from the description of “Inside the Diorama,” the ANS organizers are tastefully incorporating modern, hands-on exhibits to increase visitor engagement and to stay in contention with other museums improvising to survive in the age of technology (Chung, Wilkening, and Johnstone 43).           

Heritage Represented Through the National Constitution Center and the President's House

I do not typically think of heritage as being debatable – I take for granted that family history, or a nations history, can only be presented as fact.  But when visiting the National Constitution Center (NCC) and the President’s House this week, I evaluated these popular tourist destinations while focusing on how they portray America’s heritage.  How they present the nation’s history is particularly important due to the high volume of visitors Old City receives.  Steven Hoelscher describes this importance adequately by saying heritage representation is not only “central to the constitution of the museum” but spills “beyond its confines” (200).  My last visit to the NCC was during a middle school field trip, but all the aspects of this museum, Freedom Rising, the interactive exhibits, the circular space combined are still vivid and clearly left an impact.  Its innovative exhibits appeal to people of all demographics and are aesthetically pleasing, but its administration has a responsibility to present their message of American heritage equally.  

If heritage is a “celebration of the past,” then the NCC definitely tries to portray heritage in this way.  It depicts national heritage through Democracy representations, but as many heritage displays, is also localized (Hoelscher 202).  Philadelphia-specific heritage is portrayed through the location of the building.  Located in the heart of what is preserved as Old City, the NCC is not a historic site as defined by Amy Webb and Carolyn Brackett; it not as old as the artifacts displayed.  It is rather part of Old City, itself a larger “site of memory” (Hoelscher 204).  The artifacts were removed from their original sites and placed here strategically (Webb and Brackett 30) to positively represent democracy and “link individuals with a larger collective” (Hoelscher 200).  From its entrance, visitors face Independence Hall where the Constitution was signed.  Although the NCC is not a heritage building, the original meeting place for the delegates and the signing is only a block away.  The Constitution may be the original attraction, but for preservation reasons, it is not always displayed.  On this week’s visit, it had been replaced by a late 18^th century newspaper copy.  However, once inside, attraction expands beyond the document. 

Visitors, starting on the ground floor, are first shown a presentation giving a brief history of the drama, turmoil, and struggles surrounding the foundations of democracy, the delegates who fought for its creation, and its uniqueness to America.  In this setting, a live performance provides better rhetoric to emphasize ‘we the people’ equality ideals than a movie could portray.  It is also appropriately titled Freedom Rising, because upon conclusion, visitors are ushered up the stairs to freedom on display in the round.  They can then, democratically, choose which exhibits they interact with.  The circular layout of both the presentation and the exhibits give visitors a sense of belonging and equality.  These ideals are represented throughout as rhetoric to display democratic heritage positively.  Through fun, modern exhibits; they are diversifying visitation (Webb and Brackett 33) and “transforming what is shown into heritage” (Hoelscher 203).  Its layout is also organized chronically which represents how democracy has transformed over time (Hoelscher 206).  One interesting exhibit is titled “Could You Vote?”  It is a computer screen with a list of personal attributes such as age and gender visitors can check to see if they could vote in the year mentioned.  It repeated along the timeline of exhibits.  Robert Hewison said heritage is mostly conservative while emphasizing “order and tradition” (Hoelscher 207).  However, the NCC balances the truth with ideals better than other heritage tourism sites such as the Powell House or Charles Wilson Peale’s museum.  The NCC administrators stress the positives of democracy, but also recognize the flaws.  The presentation addresses how slavery was ignored by the ‘founding fathers’ while exhibits share the ongoing struggles for true equality. 

However the President’s house does not have the same appeal.  Only remnants of some of the walls and the basement remain as a reminder of where the first president once lived.  It can be seen as the free constitution center, because it represents the same ideals, but through George Washington and following presidencies.  It also addresses democracy’s flaws, such as not addressing slavery.  The basement where Washington housed nine slaves is still on display.  However, it is not presented in an inviting way.  It acts more like a waiting area for the Liberty Bell and seems upstaged by the modern center.  I have passed it multiple times without realizing its significance.  It may be purposefully neglected (i.e. not modernized) because of its prominent connection to Washington’s record as a slave holder.  Its lack of attention only emphasizes the ideals of Old City which modern centers like the Liberty Bell Center and the NCC conform to – to platform Philadelphia’s importance as the ‘birthplace of democracy’ while downplaying its flaws like the long history of slavery.    

Eastern State Penitentiary: A Center of Community

This weeks’ excursion to Eastern State Penitentiary (ESP) was my first visit exploring the site.  Last year, I volunteered at Bache-Martin Elementary School located directly behind the penitentiary.  My first time traveling to the school, I only saw the back walls and I remember wondering if a prison could be detrimental to the student’s learning.  However, I soon realized it was not just any prison, but Eastern State, a historical monument.  Its presence enriches the surrounding community and acts as a central reference point for locals. 

The historical importance of ESP continues to increase tourism into the surrounding area.  As the world’s first penitentiary, its purpose was to aid inmates’ rehabilitation through silent confinement.  The walls are deteriorating, but are not being renovated; this physical evidence adds to the sense of place and proves its history.  Sparse images on the walls depict influential famous Philadelphia figures such as Benjamin Franklin and Benjamin Rush, placing the Penitentiary in context with visitors’ common knowledge of the city and illuminating its significance.  Its change over time from a place of individual confinement to a incarcerated community.  As development and expansion increased inside the walls, a separate community formed in the surrounding area.  After its closing and establishment as a museum, these communities converged.  ESP was originally 2 miles outside of Philadelphia city limits, but currently rests in the center of a prospering community.   

Community is the formation of “collective identities” the sense of “belonging” (Crooke 174). The neighborhood surrounding the school and ESP is well kept, possibly due to the importance and popularity of the neighborhood’s central ESP.  Bache-Martin’s small playground is also located on ESP grounds and is maintained by Friends of Eastern State Penitentiary Park.  The school administrators recently received a grant from Friends to improve their annual fall festivals.  Supporters of ESP involved in the maintenance of the site are also involved in community development.  ESP is the community; the attention and publicity it has received is cause for investments.  This monetary support in turn built the neighborhoods and continues to give them cause for rehabilitation.    

Connections between museums and surrounding communities are increasing survival tactics benefiting both the site and its locals.  It is often employed by museums and embraced by the community.  It also promotes cooperation and aids in solving local social problems such as crime (Crooke 182).   I continue to support the integration of haunted tours into museum programming because it increases revenue which then is recycled into the surrounding community.  However, it should be required that any lack of historical accuracy should be explained to visitors.  Visitors enter with a preconceived notions of fear associated with prisons and especially confinement.  ESP cannot nullify these socially perceived connotations, but they can help provide the educate visitors about the foundations for these fears.

The Powel House and the Fate of the House Musuem

After touring the Powel House as part of this week’s museum excursion, I have conflicting answers to the question does Philadelphia need another house museum?  From a financial perspective, my answer is no, from a cultural perspective, yes, and from a historical perspective, definitely.  These houses need preservation to motivate and fuel the study of Philadelphia’s unique history.  House museums began to preserve the buildings (Godfrey 12).  However, the purpose is now beyond sharing the building; it is to place the building’s importance within history and connect it to the present.  The question becomes does the house museum shape the community, or does the community shape it?  From visiting the Powel House, I now have a better understanding of the arguments for each aspect of this question.   

The Powel House is an example of a typical Philadelphia house museum standing as a reminder of the city’s past elite.  In the 18^th century, Samuel Powel resided in the residence facing the waterfront allowing him to view the wharfs where his trades entered the city.  However, the house no longer represents his life as much as it symbolizes Philadelphia’s democratic beginnings inclusively.  Powel was both mayor and the wealthiest man in the city at the time.  His fame and popularity made his home a top gathering place for Philadelphia’s elite.  These aspects of his life are highlighted in the museum. 

The ‘founding fathers’ importance is also emphasized and specifically George Washington’s commitment to the city.  They met at this house to discuss city planning and democratic ideals.  A scale created by Ben Franklin is placed in the drawing room while a china set given to the Powels by the Washingtons is illuminated in the dining room (one of the first dining rooms in America).  The Washingtons also spent their 20^th anniversary at the house.  The history highlighted here agrees with what seems to be the mission of many 18^th century Philadelphia site museums; to show its relation to the creation of democratic ideals and its position within the ‘birthplace of democracy’.

The Landmarks committee takes this history and expands their mission to directly reach the surrounding community.  Similar to how Cliveden and Upsala merged to “revitalize” the community, Powel House merged with Grumblethorp, Physick House, and Waynesboro (Young 53).  Moving beyond tourism, house museums today rely on community involvement (Young 52).  The Powel House provides ‘Hammers and Pens’ program to teach woodshop and editing skills to local children.  However, community involvement does not generate much needed revenue.  One idea discussed for an increase in revenue is to rent the upper floors to tenants.  It is one survival strategy to protect the building and ensure proper care (Godfrey 14).    

Presently, the financial, cultural, and historical aspects of house museums cannot be separated.  There must be a compromise resulting in a reinvention of the system.  These house museums need to project other aspects of Philadelphia’s diverse history.  Immigrants’ importance is downplayed by the more visited house museums in the city.  Their presence is significant today and can be seen with the ongoing unofficial segregation of neighborhoods for different ethnicities.  Philadelphia’s population is almost half black, although this aspect is also underrepresented in house museums.  The Powel House’s upper floors were servant residences, but they are not public.  How can we say these house museums are open to the public if they only attract a specific segment?  This decision to change or not may result from the museums mission.  For example, the James Audubon Center committee neglected preserving the interior to the house because Audubon is most remembered for his conservation efforts (Godfrey 15).  Landmarks is moving beyond volunteerism to professionalization.  However, they may lose funding from traditional supporters.  To combat this confliction, the Powel House, along with other Philadelphia house museums, could revitalize their mission to attract a diversity of tourists and locals.  Although funding is poor, with a reinvention of the Philadelphia house museum missions to publicize a diversity of historical aspects, attendance may expand and local involvement may increase voluntarily.   

Civilizations on Display: The Penn Museum’s Role in Anthropological Publicity

On this week’s excursion, I traveled to the Penn Museum of anthropology on the University of Pennsylvania’s campus.  It was the second time I entered the museum, but the first time I explored many of the exhibits.  I saw them from a modern perspective, but the opinions which the objects were displayed to present may have been similar to when it first opened in 1899. 

The museum began as the second attempted showcase of anthropological artifacts.  The first attempt began during the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair.  Known as the Field Museum, it mainly displayed objects from Native American cultures.  This flaw became the reason for its downfall.  Although, it occupied the Fair’s fine arts building; to locals, this space was culturally significant to the city’s history (Conn 78).    

Established six years later, the Penn Museum inhabited a building of European design.  Modern visitors can still recognize the dominance of European style in the architecture.  This design alludes to the foundational importance of European power and their continued dominance over other nations or ‘cultures’ today (Conn 83).  It sets a president for the displays organized inside as before and after the invention age (Conn 91).  Their organization portrays European superiority but also teaches the public to appreciate earlier cultures (Conn 100).  Many of the objects found in the museum were collected from Europe during the late 19^th century and displayed for the American public (Conn 85).  Each section seems meaningfully placed in a corresponding room.  The "Mummies/Egypt" artifacts are displayed in an enlongated domed room that eerily immitates a sarcophagus.  The room where the mummies reside also alludes to the layout of an Egyptian pyramid's passageways.  Originally, visitors could descend to the first floor where Native American exhibits were or view Mediterranean galleries on the second floor (Conn 89).  Today, a similar “evolutionary hierarchy” is established; although, it is now incorporated with multimedia and interactive exhibits appealing to modern visitors (Conn 90).  The modern changes include Native American or African music playing throughout the respective galleries.  They also provide different ways for visitors to incorporate their opinions.  However, sometimes these modern changes sacrifice the core of the related and interesting artifacts to a side room of a media dominated exhibit (i.e. the Africa wing).  These collections are still organized by region today and present, arguably, the same statements as they did over 100 years ago.  

The museum became the first museum to separate the social from the natural sciences, presenting a “new ethnology” for public knowledge (Conn 86).  One issue can be raised today with this presentation style.  The Penn Museum organized these artifacts in 1899 at a time when immigration into America peaked and cultures clashed.  The exhibits were organized to simplify the inhabitants of each nation or geographical area as unified.  They portrayed this sameness within each region and concurrently, a hierarchy of global power.  It also represented the coming age of global expansionism and informed the American public of the people of these presumably conquerable or manipulatable nations.  It does fulfill its purpose of preserving evidence of past cultures, but the recognized modern public views may clash with the museum’s dated portrayals of these cultures.  Although I enjoy seeing the layout of the museum as would a visitor in 1899, the modern public may receive dated messages from this collection.  For as long as the public continues to view museums as trustworthy information sources, as Roy Rosenzweig and David Thelen suggest, then their obligation should be to represent contemporary views.     

       

Charles Wilson Peale: World in Miniature

This outing was my first tour of Independence Hall and the Second Bank of the US.  Located in Philadelphia’s historic area, these buildings were once popular gathering places of our ‘founding fathers’.  Our private tour centered on Charles Wilson Peale who arguably produced the first American museum.  He was not wealthy, but continued to paint influential figures and collect specimens.  He succeeded in displaying this content publically; although he never reached his goal of national fame.  Through exploring the room in Independence Hall where Peale displayed his artifacts and seeing his paintings in a modern display at the Second Bank, I now better understand Peale and his motives.  For me it solidified and expanded upon my knowledge about Peale from Harold Colton.  I also formed new perspectives on museum practices and Peale’s role in creating public knowledge.

Peale’s museum was located on the second floor of Independence Hall in an elongated room originally designed as a waiting area.  Here the ‘container’ acts as advertising for the museum content.  It was the City Hall of the time and therefore a popular hub of activity.  Even though it was renovated and reconstructed since the 1800s, I could still imagine Peale’s socio-cultural hierarchy of artifacts lining the walls.  As a member of the philosophical society, He displayed these artifacts and portraits from an Enlightenment perspective, but when Romanticism flourished and other sources of entertainment increased, the museum’s popularity diminished. 

When the museum closed, the city bought 94 of Peale’s portraits that hung on the second floor of Independence Hall.  The Second Bank now houses these portraits.  They each depict a face of someone he deemed politically and socially important.  The arrangement of these portraits changes to accommodate the fast pace of modern society, but the content remains.  Through detailing their expressions, he depicted their personalities.        

At its peak, Peale’s museum was highly regarded and was as popular as those in Europe (Colton 233).  He wanted to portray ‘his world in miniature’ and to provide public entertainment and knowledge (Peale 28).  This purpose is similar to the early definition of museum purposes which was to “inspire and entertain” (Abt 120).  This room may not be remembered for the collection it once housed, but Peale’s legacy as the first museum founder lives on. 

The Wagner: An Often Unacknowledged Innovative Institution

Today’s field excursion was located at the Wagner Institute in a residential area of North Philadelphia a few blocks off Temple’s campus.  This trip constituted as my fourth visit to the Wagner, and although the exhibits don’t change, I innovatively interacted with the “museum” and examined the collections considering Macdonald’s indication that collecting (arguably an innate human function) is the foundation for museums and provides a valuable connection between the physical and social aspects of society.  William Wagner collected some of the specimens locally, but mostly while traveling in Europe.  Following the trend of many upper class white males, Wagner displayed his treasures through a curiosity cabinet, but more uniquely, gave lectures as accompaniments to his display.  He eventually founded the institute (1896) to 1) act as a larger container for his specimens, but 2) mainly as a vessel to teach science to the public.  Lectures and classes were offered on the first floor as a foundation for understanding the collection assembled on the second level.  In the 1880s Joseph Leidy organized the specimens according to Darwinism evolution stages.  As mentioned in Giebelhausen’s essay, this idea of categorization and thinking of the museum as an instrument trended throughout the late 1800s.  Macdonald also notes that at this time, there is an increase in public desire to rationalize collections and objects’ relational values.  Wagner conforms to this trend through the more strategic deployment of his specimens, but is also innovative in that he uses classroom environments to inform the public about the objects in his collection, giving them a thorough understanding of their context and connections to one another. 

I have walked among the collection before, but this expedition was the first time I was notified that the drawers in each case can be opened to expose more specimens.  I quickly realized they were cumbersome, but to the visitor of the late 1800s, they may have been innovatively interactive.  However, their existence is important because even through difficult to open, they allow more of the collection to be publically accessed at all times.  This use of space provided a solution to one issue Macdonald raises that was debated in the early 20^th century; large portions of collections were often not shown, but kept in storage.  Smaller independent museums popularized such as the Wagner.  Unfortunately it is largely detached from the majority of the Philadelphia community today possibly because it is a small personal collection that never changes.  It stands often unnoticed in North Philadelphia like the outcast building of the neighborhood that was forgotten long ago, but its value and authenticity remains as Wagner intended: to freely provide scientific knowledge to the public.  It remains important as a transitional period museum at a time when scientific knowledge was normalizing and divine abstract thinking was being divided from museum design.

Temple's Anthropology Museum

On Monday I visited the Anthropology “museum” strategically hidden behind the café on the first floor of Gladfelter.  Eager to enter this normally overlooked museum, I almost neglected the two cased displays against the wall resting among the empty tables and sparse student company.  The other students seemed oblivious to these dormant pottery shards and post cards, evidence of past cultures and student facilitated expeditions through which these remnants of the past were found.  An overview of this collection is displayed on a wall plaque next to these noticeably public (yet ignored) exhibits.  It’s shared artifacts and knowledge cover the fields of archaeology and biological, sociocultual, and linguistic anthropology.  I approach the heavy doors of the “museum” and scan for any implication of public viewing hours.  After not finding any, and assuming it is open whenever the building is, I ring the door bell necessary to summon someone of authority to allow me access.  A student opens the door with a questioning expression.  I say I am here to see the museum, but his surprised wordless response is followed by “there is a private meeting at this time” and that I can come back later (there is no exterior notification of this temporary closing).  I return an hour later only to be met by a woman who says she is on her lunch break, but allows the student whom greeted me earlier to supervise my visit.  After he asks me a series of questions about my purpose, I am allowed into the main exhibit.  There is a small table cased-in display in the center of the room and one wall of exposed (and impressive) earthenware pottery.  A large (supposed) Native American headdress rests on top a file cabinet; my guide does not know anything about it.  There is no written explanation for the artifacts, but my guide explains them as best as he knows how.  He explains that many of these artifacts have been found by faculty or students on faculty led expeditions from historic sites in Philadelphia.  A large part of the collection was donated by the Commercial Museum after it closed.  The main purpose of this “museum” is intellectual; faculty and students of archeology and anthropology are given access to study the collection.  It is also my assumed reason as to why it is not advertised.  Can it still be labeled a museum if it does not exactly welcome student tourism?  Isn’t one of main purposes of a museum to allow public access and contribute societal knowledge?  However upon closer analysis, this section behind the heavy doors is mainly a laboratory, but it sponsors more public exhibits throughout Gladfelter.  The display in the café is very much publicly accessed, although often unnoticed, it is still shared and explained much like exhibits in institutions publically recognized as museums (even if abstractly).  My guide also informed me about another exhibit located on the 10^th floor of Gladfelter.  I rode the elevator to the quiet 10^th floor where I was greeted by an informative aesthetically charming display on early 19^th century Philadelphia tableware.  There is no mystery to these exhibits, no “revealing curtain”, although under the surface it certainly embodies many foundational aspects of modern day history museums.