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Case Study: At Home with Gustav Stickley: Arts and Crafts from the Stephen Gray Collection

Mon, 05 Jan 2009 16:52:13 -0800

More than a chance to see rare early Stickley furniture from a renowned collector, Stephen Gray, who’s been gathering and researching the work of Gustav Stickley and other Arts and Craftsmen since the 1970s, the rack card for “At Home with Gustav Stickley” indicated that this exhibition might be an interesting take on the traditional decorative arts exhibition. The exhibition title was a nod to how the collector lives with his collection…in the rooms of his home in upstate New York, the pieces arranged to be used; lamps, garbage cans, wall art, sharing space with chairs, tables and rugs, arranged to suit his decorating taste. The idea behind this exhibition was to show these pieces as they are being used now, and might have been used in the past. Grey was quoted describing his collection as a work of art, consciously assembled over the years, and he wanted to share this with visitors. The exhibit seemed like it would have the potential to open conversation about the creative work that collectors do, and the idea that collections are a form of art, as well as offer some beautiful arts and crafts furniture on view. This sounded promising so on a cold day in December I went to the Wadsworth to see the exhibit. I entered the exhibition gallery, a fairly empty space with one text panel on the wall. The entranceway to the rest of the exhibit was defined by an arts and crafts styled portico with the typical square columns. With a brown carpet underneath foot, low lighting, and a cool color on the walls, the room and the portico seemed a little spare and cold. This spare feeling persisted throughout the exhibit. The labels were simple, black text on brown, no graphic treatment, limited to object identifications and quotes from Stickley. Perhaps the labels were designed to not detract from viewing the objects themselves, but the lack of any embellishment set a somewhat institutional tone that worked against the idea of being “at home” with these objects. And, while many of the objects were arranged in groupings to suggest their placement in a home, these weren’t quite object vignettes evoking the feeling of lived in rooms designed to personal taste. There was no wall paper, or textiles on floor or table, none of the casually left objects that surround us in daily life. Arts and Crafts homes were supposed to be alive with texture and rich with color. Publicity images from Stephen Gray’s home, featuring his collection, show this same attention to light, color, and warmth. This mood was missing from the space at the Wadsworth. I wondered if this lack of “hominess” was the result of was a tension in this exhibition between different ways of looking at these beautiful objects. On the one hand, the “At Home” model intended to get visitors thinking about how people actually live with these objects, and how art (hanging on the wall or the arrangements of our furnishings) is a part of our lives. The exhibition organizers tried to accommodate this way of looking, through furniture grouping and using some architectural embellishments such as the arts and crafts style portico at the beginning of the exhibit, and a few drop down ceilings to create the sense of a cosy space. But, without real vignettes only the very minimal sense of home was evoked. Having comments from Stephen Gray, scattered through-out that might have illuminated some of his aesthetic choices, his collecting ideas, his search for different aspects of Arts and Crafts furniture to fulfill a vision would have contributed here. On the other hand, I also saw that not having all these embellishments left the objects to be seen as objects, without distractions, without mediation or too much interpretation, encouraging the kind of looking that many people seek in any art exhibition. This sensibility called for a more spare approach that seems to have won the day. However, this was not entirely successful either as the exhibit design did not facilitate close viewing. Although there were no barriers around the object platforms, the pieces were placed in such a way that visitors couldn’t walk around objects or see details up close. In short I love the idea behind this exhibition, however, I felt like the execution didn’t quite live up to the possibilities in the premise. The idea that a collection is a work of art, essentially a creative endeavor, the art of gathering found things together in patterns and juxtapositions, the art of finding rhythm and rhyme or simply beauty in the objects of the world around us, is wonderful way to think about this activity that so many people engage in. Indeed, reflecting on this activity that spans collecting arts and crafts furniture to old cars to Barbie dolls, and recognizing the artist or creative soul in us all would be a great way to link this exhibit to the wider world, and perhaps to make us all feel at home with this rarified collection.

Case Study: theanyspacewhatever

Sun, 04 Jan 2009 18:19:35 -0800

The usual disorientation of entering a museum becomes a compelling part of the visitor experience within theanyspacewhatever exhibition at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum (through January 7, 2009). Written words and messages greet the visitor at the door, literally enticing, welcoming and orienting as the experience begins. Text and signage first draws the eyes up and around the museum’s space as one seeks his or her bearings, but also incites curiosity of what is hidden on the walls or around the next corner. Though the exhibition brings together 10 separate artists, their work is unified through the blurred division of where the art and the design of the building merge. Perhaps what struck me most was my total lack of fatigue. Like a child my inquisitiveness spurred me to discover the next piece of the exhibit searching as if participating in a scavenger hunt. The artists used virtually every space available from entry to exit, drawing me into areas I have passed by during other visits to this particular museum. It was as if the beauty of the building was rediscovered. I, like the rest of audience that day, became a part of the exhibition through its experiential aspects. Rather than concentrating on only the artistic installation, the human presence also becomes a focal point. Interactivity and the architecture of the museum create moments when others can literally be viewed from afar as part of a piece. Similarly, the social aspect of a museum visit is integrated throughout. One project invites you to take off your shoes, settle onto a floor pillow and watch the artist’s video while another provides refreshments and bean bag chairs while viewing a movie. All engage a variety of senses yet provide transitions that also offer respite. Lighting, seating and information areas are also particularly cognizant of visitor needs while still integrating into the total design. Often the individual artist’s project draws you in before finding the signage to explain its reasoning. In a way this contributes to the exhibition's interactive nature, though I am not completely sure this is intentional. For example, I did not discover that specific spots were carefully included within the exhibition to listen to the audio guide until I had bypassed the majority of these spaces. Because of my enthusiasm moving through the museum I simply missed the wall text explaining this fact. However, information was available in a variety of formats for those seeking more background on the artists’ intent. Overall this exhibition embodies the visitor experience. It highlights disorientation to orient. Curiosity and mystery are rich even when one “finishes” viewing the space. Various features consider the physical and social needs of the visitor, while also working to satisfy the intellectual desires of the audience. It would be interesting to see this exhibition multiple times because I suspect that it is the human energy, both from those who created it and those visiting, which generate the vitality of its content.

Case Study: It Happened In Brooklyn

Sun, 04 Jan 2009 19:34:30 -0800

Founded in 1863, the Brooklyn Historical Society is dedicated to preserving Brooklyn’s 400-year history and works to connect that history to today’s diverse communities in a tangible, relevant and meaningful way. The institution is located in a landmarked building in Brooklyn Heights designed by George B. Post in 1881. Upon stepping into the building through the terra cotta archways and entering the foyer, it is evident that the Brooklyn Historical Society is indeed dedicated to that 400-year history. Immediately you notice books pertaining to Brooklyn’s history, its neighborhoods, and its inhabitants and historical maps and paintings. Stepping off the elevator on the third floor and into the small room to the right, I entered an exhibition called It Happened in Brooklyn. Supported by artifacts from the Brooklyn Historical Society’s permanent collection, It Happened In Brooklyn explores important moments in history and the role that Brooklyn played in them. The exhibition is organized chronologically by six periods of American History: Native Americans, Explorers and Settlers; Colonial Brooklyn; Revolutionary War; Abolition and the Civil War; Immigration and Migration; and World War II and the Brooklyn Navy Yard. Correlating with these six themes, the exhibition text and artifacts within each section line the walls of the room, with each section framed by a tilted square painted on the wall in a different color. In the center of the room on the floor is a large map of Brooklyn on which graphics and a corresponding key indicate when particular neighborhoods played an important role during one of the six periods. For example Gowanus was highlighted to represent the Colonial Brooklyn period and the waterfront represented WWII. However, for all playful purposes, two small children in the exhibition found it exciting to challenge one another to jump from Coney Island to Brooklyn Heights in one leap. (And they did it!) The exhibition begins by displaying a 3,000-5,000 year old arrowhead possibly used by the Lenape, a tribe that inhabited Brooklyn until the Dutch purchased the land and settled around Gowanus Bay in 1636. Colonial Brooklyn explores the lives of the farmers of now-famous names (Lefferts, Wykoff, Ditmas, and Sackett) who settled Brooklyn before the British came to power. An 1805 Bill of Sale between Johannes Ditmas and Hendrick and Andrew Suydam documents the sale of a slave named Nan for 60 pounds. Artifacts such as a powder horn used in the Battle of Brooklyn, one of the bloodiest battles of the Revolutionary War, and the classic painting of George Washington titled “Athenaeum,” (although this is a copy of the famous Gilbert Stuart painting by James K. Frothingham), highlight the exhibition’s section on the Revolutionary War. It Happened In Brooklyn explores the abolitionist movement and the Civil War with photos of and admittance tickets to Sanitary Fairs, which coordinated efforts of women who wanted to support the federal army with funds and supplies during the Civil War. Because of its proximity to Ellis Island and Manhattan, Brooklyn’s immigration story mirrors some of the well-known stories of immigration to America: the 1840s and 1850s saw German and Irish immigrants; the late 1800s saw Italian and Jewish immigrants; the migration of African Americans from the south in search of jobs and opportunity during World War I is represented; and the first half of the 20th century noticed a large influx of West Indian immigrants. It was particularly interesting to compare a 1921 map of Brooklyn neighborhoods by ethnicity to known ethnic affiliations today. The final period covered in It Happened In Brooklyn is World War II and the role that the Brooklyn Navy Yard, opened in 1801, had in it. Over 70,000 workers helped to build the USS Iowa, USS Missouri and USS Arizona, which was destroyed at Pearl Harbor. Continuing a slight focus on the women of Brooklyn’s history that is evident throughout this exhibition, there is also mention that the Brooklyn Navy Yard is the birthplace of Rosie the Riveter. Photos of workers, a welder’s helmet, machinist tools and overalls are all artifacts that represent the essential role Brooklyn had in World War II. Because the themes of It Happened in Brooklyn chronologically follow well-known events of American history, the exhibition’s organization and flow of ideas is comfortable and effective. The amount of content is appropriate and not overwhelming for the average visitor. The audience of this exhibition is an average adult learner, as the text is at an adult eye-level and the lack of touchable, hands-on exhibits indicates that children were a small consideration. It Happened In Brooklyn effectively supports the institution’s mission to tell the history of Brooklyn, and it does so in a proud, bold, unpretentious way, much like the personalities of today’s Brooklynites.

Case Study: PoP: The Global Citizen

Tue, 30 Dec 2008 17:59:52 -0800

A painted Humvee door, a recreated oriental rug that juxtaposes images of Brittany Spears and Snow White and a ceramic blue and white Santa Claus...these are all objects that can be seen in PoP: The Global Citizen. This exhibition features American based artists who have explored the influence of popular culture in our global art world. The interesting twist is that every work in the exhibition combines current Western cultural elements with non-Western pop culture. The gallery space is small, with stark white walls, tall ceilings and wood floors. Some of the pieces in the exhibition did not fit in the gallery space and therefore spilled into the Center's hallway. When I first walked into the space, my eyes bounced around the gallery. Everything was vibrant or wacky and screamed for my attention. There were a few pieces I noticed right away. Two of the ceramic objects by Leopold L. Foulem were an intriguing mix of East meets West. They were created in the classic Chinese blue and white motif. One portrayed Santa Claus and the other was a teapot with a small image of two males. Across from these vitrines was a terra cotta and mixed media sculpture titled "you're the bomb" by Benjamin Schulman. The sculpture was of seven young boys each holding there own tricolored penis (meant to imitate our favorite American Popsicle). Next to this sculpture were two Humvee doors with painted images of pin-up girls. Artist, Wayne Coe uses the commercialization of news and government propaganda to inspire his work. Most interesting to me were the six pieces of sculpture at the end of the gallery by artist Sin-Ying Ho. From a distance, each piece looked like a traditional Chinese vase; however, with a closer look I was able to see their remarkable detail. In each of her pieces she has transformed porcelain vessels into unfamiliar sculptures by deconstructing and then reconstructing the form. Parts of the sculpture appear to be recycled teapots, vases and cups. She hand painted each vessel and then applied computer decal images of the Mona Lisa, Marilyn Monroe, Wonder Woman and Barbie - to name a few. There were text panels throughout the exhibition to provide additional context for the viewer (something I was very grateful for during my visit) and gallery guides that gave further insight into three of the featured art works. By the end of my visit, some objects still appeared wacky and others...more beautiful than ever.

Case Study: Deborah Aschheim and Lisa Mezzacappa: Earworms

Mon, 29 Dec 2008 14:51:23 -0800

I could hear the exhibition "Deborah Aschheim and Lisa Mezzacappa: Earworms" before I could see it. Ethereal, haunting, melodic, the music wafted from the dark room into the sunlit entryway of the Pasadena Museum of California Art. The exhibition was installed in The Project Room, a 700-square-foot gallery devoted to installations by early and mid-career California artists. Artists chosen to participate are charged with transforming the space through site-specific installation. And transform it they did. Sculptor/installation artist Deborah Aschheim and musician/composer Lisa Mezzacappa collaborated on the project to create a play of light, color, and sound. Entering the darkened space, I had to pause for my eyes to adjust to the light and was at once confronted by three suspended organic creatures lit by LED lights. The intricate sculptures—one white, one aqua, one dark blue, composed of plastic, LEDs, (some video), and sound—produce most of the light in the room. Each sculpture is suspended from the exposed ceiling by a complex arrangement of fishing line. Twisting, turning nodes of plastic and wire create messy, but controlled creatures that emanate a different sound, song, or piece of music. The three sculptures or earworms (Node, Swoon, and Palimpsest) were first created as an experiment to preserve memory for language by transforming words into songs. The artists’ project has since evolved into a meditation on space, sound, and memory. Installed in a small industrial room of white walls, concrete floors, and an exposed ceiling, the installation is in stark contrast to the minimalist space. The curvilinear sculptures, muted light, tangled cords, and ethereal music produce the sense of being underwater. A small introductory wall panel at The Project Room entrance provides some context, but the visitor is allowed to make sense of the space themselves. Uninterrupted by stanchions, guards, or additional didactics, a visitor can simply float around and between the sculptures without any barriers. With the open floor plan and intimate space, I spent about fifteen minutes observing the installation, figuring out how it worked, which sound came from which sculpture, and determining the interplay of sound, color, and light. The whimsical, fantasy quality of the installation prompted one visitor to say, “Awww, I want one of those.” Others simply oohed and ahhed as they passed through. The installation is a full-bodied sensory experience. The exhibition design allows the visitor to take ownership of the space, to determine their own path, and to create their own meaning. The Project Room and this installation stands in sharp contrast to the traditional, plodding, linear layout of paintings and photographs that comprise the remainder of the Pasadena Museum of California Art’s galleries. It represents the museum’s commitment to innovation, play, and to supporting the practice of contemporary California artists. If only these ideas could push beyond the boundaries of The Project Room and infiltrate the rest of the museum.

Case Study: Fast Forward

Sun, 28 Dec 2008 19:53:43 -0800

I was fortunate enough to visit Fast Forward at MSI a week before the official opening and see first hand an impressive and thoughtful exhibition that takes a look at modern day innovators and innovation. As it was explained to me by MSI staff, they wanted to develop something as a modern day follow up to a recent exhibition on da Vinci, and they were fortunate enough to have an individual step forward to underwrite the entire exhibition. Not only is Fast Forward beautifully designed and fabricated, but it nicely connects interesting innovations to people. Often a connection we fail to make in modern society. In many ways it reminded me of the TED conference, brief, quick, meaningful and brilliant. One of the most compelling stories is about William Kamkwamba from Masitala, Malawi. It only took 20-year-old William Kamkwamba a library book, some blue-gum trees, discarded bicycle parts and an inspired idea to become a sensation in his home country. Kamkwamba, who lives in a small African village in Malawi, began building windmills at age 14, after he had to drop of out high school because his family could not afford the tuition of $80 a year. Now his family has three windmills on their property, supplying power to their home for the first time. Since then, Kamkwamba has offered his assistance to others, helped build a windmill for his local school and worked on powering his entire village. Well worth the visit and another great presentation from the staff at MSI. They might very well have the best temporary exhibition team in the US. -- Chris Dornfeld, Dec. 2008 Description of Fast Forward from MSI: From cuisine made by ink-jet printers, to urban high-rise farming, to instant-messaged hugs you can feel, you’ll meet pioneers working on these and other amazing ideas that could change the way we live. Inventors tell us in their own words how they’ve worked to take their ideas from “what if” toward “here’s how."

Case Study: Peggy Preheim: Little Black Book

Mon, 15 Dec 2008 18:20:56 -0800

Vast expanses of white greet the visitor to the Peggy Preheim: Little Black Book exhibition at the Aldrich Contemporary Art Museum (through Feb. 9, 2009) - - 20’ white walls, white frames, off-white mat board, white paper. An occasional black leather bench offsets the white. If you do not flee the starkness, tiny exquisite drawings, photographs and sculptures draw you closer and closer. So close, in fact, that guards jump up to follow you, and raised frames tacked to the blond wood floors are necessary to establish safe distances. I visited the exhibition on a cold, grey Sunday afternoon. I was the sole visitor that day, which may explain why the white seemed so white. The exhibition was dauntingly minimalist. A short introductory panel written by Aldrich Director Harry Philbrick hangs at two access points. Only two other very brief text panels are displayed within the entire space. From this copy, I learned that the show represents the first comprehensive survey of Peggy Preheim’s “hauntingly delicate work”. Preheim’s process is explained, as are the sources of her inspiration. I understood that her work explores implied narratives, which are left to the viewer to fulfill. With this background, I began to examine the art. Working in pencil, photography and clay, Preheim creates tiny figures, many of which resemble humuculi. Fetal figures rest in glass containers or float on paper. They are meticulously rendered in sharp detail, making them both beautiful and disturbing. The drawings look like photographs; the photographs look like drawings. The figures seem otherworldly, timeless – and unmoored. Fascinated by the technique and the uniqueness of Preheim’s vision, I found myself nose to glass, with guards all around me. The Aldrich has made an attempt to soften the tone of this exhibition and make it a little more user-friendly. At one entrance, a visitor can take a 6” x 9” card that contains a photograph, brief explanatory text, a series of questions to prompt discussion, things to do there (it’s unclear how they could be done in the galleries), things to do at home, and vocabulary words. Elsewhere, two black leather benches harbor magnifying glasses to help you see better. Also, the exhibit wanders through several small rooms; an appropriate choice given the smallness of the pieces. In one room, I sat on a bench - - not to see the pieces (which were too small) but to read the hardcover catalogue that had been placed there. I loved the experience. I learned much, much more about the artist, her art, and also about the enormous emotional connection that the Director has for her works. The book conveyed the intimacy and sense of conversation that was stripped from the art by the mostly empty white walls, the guards, and the cold, echoing floors. Ironically, an exhibition so much about narrative was missing the Aldrich’s unique, participatory audio narrative bestowed upon other exhibits in the museum. I would have loved to hear the Director read from the letters and poems he wrote for the catalogue, and I would have loved to add my own narrative to some of the works. Also missing was the high-quality brochure, found in other galleries, that explains a little bit about the art and the artist. For instance, I have no sense of Preheim’s life and no idea why her show was titled Little Black Book. Small works of art present a special challenge to exhibit designers. How do you get people close enough to see but far enough away to be safe? Small works are intimate, personal, delicate. How do you support and enhance that sense of intimacy? Unlike large works, which often stun one into silence, small pieces invite conversation. How do you create a space that encourages comment or narrative? Peggy Preheim: Little Black Book is an invitation to visit a strange, lovely, evocative world. Yet, I felt lonely when I left and I believe the works themselves are lonely there, too.

Case Study: Be Here Now

Tue, 02 Dec 2008 14:58:57 -0800

How can a developer design a meditative space in a noisy environment like the Exploratorium? In this case study, I'll expose the process and decision points that led to a surprisingly minimal acoustical treatment. At Be Here Now, an exhibit in the Exploratorium's Mind area, visitors enter a nautilus-shaped structure made of Japanese shoji screens. For two minutes, they sit and observe the meanderings of their own thoughts. Visitors are instructed to focus on their own breathing, and track their distractions by pressing a hand-held button. A bell chimes and the total number of button presses is displayed. This exhibit can reveal the limits of one's own attention span, as well as the non-linear and uncontrolled nature by which thoughts seem to pop into our minds. The Exploratorium is a vast, acoustically reflective space, filled with noisy exhibits and the sounds of delighted visitors. We have a sound-dampened area for exhibits on Listening, but the exhibit Be Here Now was to be placed in the Mind section; uncarpeted and under a 50-foot ceiling. Decision Point 1- Exhibit Priorities, and putting off the question of noise. Bill I knew our acoustic environment would offer a challenge for this exhibit idea, but felt we should prototype first, and engineer later. One method of making an exhibit is to keep things as loose as possible until one gathers visitor input. I subscribe to this method because our visitors are always surprising me. It makes sense to take advantage of visitor input early, so we can be responsive to their input. We can even take drastic turns if visitors behave unexpectedly. I believe in this method, because the intent and the use become more aligned, and the result feels like a more fully-realized exhibit. Bill and I needed to know if the activity was workable, interesting and surprising before bogging down with the noise problem. Mock-up opportunities were somewhat limited, due to the exhibit’s proposed size and need for electronic components, but we sallied forth. I mocked up a simple structure of shoji screens for staff and a few visitors to try. I held a stopwatch to time the activity, and gave them a counter. Staff members and visitors were generally enthusiastic. They found the activity interesting and challenging. Some were surprised at the number of distractions they had. Some got trapped in thought loops, wondering if thoughts about distractions were distractions. Several staff complained about ambient noise, and one was even bothered by the patterns he saw on the backs of his eyelids. We learned that our audience could indeed sit for two minutes, and decided the thought loops were not harmful to the purpose of the exhibit. We noted the noise complaints, and wondered about their numerical incidence and severity on the exhibit floor. Decision Point 2- Questioning the assumption of a noise problem, and affirming the core activity. After dragging a number of visitors into the shop, we decided we’d build a sturdy prototype for the museum floor. Shoji screens in a nautilus shape were beautiful, and seemed to create a quiet mood, so I designed the exhibit around that idea. The lack of parallel walls minimized sound reflection somewhat, and we could decide later if a roof or another type of structure would be required. We kept graphic and affordance elements as loose as possible, and we provided earmuffs, in case visitors wanted to use them. Our team researcher Joyce Ma, conducted a formative study of visitors to help us identify and respond to visitor experiences. While the numbers are small, we found that most visitors persisted with the activity successfully, in spite of the ambient noise. Of a total of 18, we asked 15 visitors what kind of distractions they experienced. Eight cited things outside the museum, while six cited things inside the museum, from concern about companions to noise distractions. While half of the 18 visitors interviewed couldn’t cite a trigger for their distractions, four cited noise. We learned that noise was a distraction for some visitors. We also learned that noise didn’t prevent them from using the exhibit successfully. In fact, 14 of the 18 visitors experienced positive emotions while in the exhibit. Of those 14, ten said they felt peaceful, calm or relaxed while inside. 11 out of 18 visitors saw the earphones we had placed, and all 11 used them. To be fair, four people felt frustrated by the experience. Two of these four had waited in line for it and were disappointed by the activity (non-activity). Considering that this exhibit is antithetical to the expectation of our visitors, I thought this was a pretty good start. We thought that getting our visitors to sit still for two whole minutes in our environment was going to be a challenge, but 15/18 completed the exercise. That was surprising to us. Decision Point 3: Bang for the buck responsiveness. What would it have taken to create a sound-dampened Be Here Now? We could have installed a roof, but at the cost of a modular, lightweight structure and a perhaps sense of light that made it beautiful. We could have rebuilt the structure with insulated walls, but the cost would be high, and the look would have suffered. Both would have cost time and money, which could have be used in the development of more exhibits for our collection. We decided to go for bang for the buck, and did only a little remediation on noise. - I ordered a white noise maker and installed it in the exhibit. - We made the earphones more visible and labeled them. - We placed the exhibit at the far reaches of the museum. We responded to visitor frustration with the activity (non-activity) by placing a graphic outside the exhibit that described the experience. The advantages of the visitor feedback method of iterative development are great. Perceived problems from a designers perspective are not always real problems for visitors. Evidence often points to a clear path, and calls into focus the core objectives of any exhibit. Disadvantages include expense and the time it takes to iterate faithfully. In the case of Be Here Now, the mission was to offer an awareness of the power of the ambulatory mind. I believe this was achieved without extensive sound abatement. We can't travel the other road, so we won't ever know if it was the best possible outcome.

Review: At Home with Gustav Stickley: Arts and Crafts from the Stephen Gray Collection

Mon, 05 Jan 2009 16:52:13 -0800

Review: theanyspacewhatever

Sun, 04 Jan 2009 18:19:35 -0800

Review: It Happened In Brooklyn

Sun, 04 Jan 2009 19:34:30 -0800

Review: PoP: The Global Citizen

Tue, 30 Dec 2008 17:59:52 -0800

New user: Holly Barton

Sun, 04 Jan 2009 19:24:13 -0800

New user: Judith Hutton

Sun, 04 Jan 2009 18:08:57 -0800

New user: Saralyn Rosenfield

Thu, 01 Jan 2009 13:11:09 -0800

New user: Paul Wigfield

Tue, 30 Dec 2008 10:05:38 -0800

Comment:

Fri, 02 Jan 2009 06:03:09 -0800

Hi Elena, Crittercams provide such powerful information! It must be provocative for people to see themselves through the penguin's crittercam. We never ourselves from their perspective. I'm looking forward to seeing your show.

Comment:

Fri, 12 Dec 2008 04:27:10 -0800

I have often thought overall our interactive exhibits are too insistingly high energy and that more contemplative and intentionally quiet zones in the midst of that was a good idea. Achieving that is technically difficult and, as shown here, surprises the visitor. Congratulations for taking this on. It would be great if others who have tried contemplation zones in the midst of activity would chime in. This world is too noisy and too stimulating for our children and learning to modulate even a little bit is a help. e--

Comment:

Thu, 11 Dec 2008 04:42:12 -0800

Visited this during the research for our own climate change gallery, and found it one of the most memorable exhibitions I've visited. It's a brave and original take on a topic that all too easily suffers from fatigue and worthiness. Although it's true that most panels are in Norwegian (understandably) there are small English summaries, and I’d have no reservations recommending it to international visitors since the most noteworthy thing is the experience, rather than the text. Having said that, it was useful to meet the team and have an English translation, in particular since the ‘vote with your feet’ feedback station’s success revolves around its clever selection of questions that could truly divide an audience. Be aware that it is a temporary exhibition, so it’s not huge, and was developed quite quickly, but if you’re interested in communicating climate change in museums, I’d say it’s definitely worth either a visit, or a good chat with the insightful team who developed it.

Comment:

Fri, 28 Nov 2008 07:02:41 -0800

I printed out this review along with descriptions of 4 others and had about 100, 13-year-olds here in Detroit rate them according to how interesting and fun they thought they would be. I was very surprized when this exhibit turned out to be a big favorite amoung these young teens - blew away exhibits like Star Trek and Science of Spying!