Local history museums like us are always up against
demographics. I often say you don’t appreciate local history until you’re old
enough to remember some of it. As a result it’s sometimes hard to engage the
younger generation and involve them in our mission. This in part led us to our first foray into
the “pop-up museum” phenomenon a few weeks back.
We called it the “You-Seum--a one-night exhibition designed
by you!” We shaped it around the theme “Great-Grandma could have never
imagined…” and invited the public to bring in an item to illustrate that theme.
We set few ground rules, allowing the participants to drive the discussion in
their own way. The turn-out, while smaller than we would have liked (there were
several other events in town that lovely April night) but enthusiastic. The
ages ranged from 6 to over 90. The six-year-old came to show off her Disney
Princess collection.
The entries were insightful and thought-provoking. One of
our members brought his tablet and e-reader; technology obviously outside of
Great-Grandma’s imagination. Another brought a photo of herself having coffee
with an African American friend--an encounter her great grandmother probably
would have never sanctioned. The assistant director opined about the frenetic pace
of modern life, which would have baffled our more relaxed ancestors. She illustrated
it with a dvd showing of the Andy Griffith episode “Man in a Hurry.” One of our
older members brought a slightly risqué sculpture--her great-grandmother could
have never imagined such a thing in a respectable museum.
One participant grew up on a small Chesapeake Bay island,
which was fundamentally transformed a generation ago when a bridge was built to
the mainland. She brought in a nostalgic display of hometown items showing what
was gained--and what was lost-- when the modern world intruded onto her island.
My own great-grandparents’ farm is now the site of a strip
mall, mostly vacant, where the most popular shop is Dunkin’ Doughnuts. So I
brought a dozen assorted pastries--Great-Grandma Long probably never tasted
one, much less could foresee them sold from her cornfield. For the first time
in my career I put out the sign “Please eat the exhibit.” Around the room,
conversations mulled the changes we’ve all seen in such a short period of time.
One of our goals was to get people thinking, and we did it.
On the whole, it was a most enjoyable evening and we plan to
offer it again with a different theme. Along the way, if we can achieve a
reputation as a museum that has more than static exhibitions to observe
passively from behind velvet ropes; as an innovative facility where visitors
can learn from enjoyable, engaging programs, then we’ll have crossed the bridge
from yesterday’s museum to a brighter tomorrow.
