The Museum as Temple, and Art as Holy

A place of solitude and introspection, the museum is my temple. While wandering through the halls of the Louvre or the MoMA or the Met we are given the opportunity to experience works of art we never knew before, and to see them in different lights and from different angles. There is no substitute for this physical and immediate experience of comprehending and internalizing visual art, and I will argue that while the digitalization of museums (for my purposes, art museums) has certain and profound benefits, when given the opportunity I would never choose to view art on the internet when I could see it in person. Museums have always been a place of hands-on (or at the very least eyes-on) learning in my life, and as technology allows for the expansion of the museum space from the purely physical and finite world to the more ambiguous sphere of the infinite and digitalized I wonder if the ‘museum experience’ itself is in flux.

Styliani et al. make a few excellent points in regards to the value of virtual museums in their piece, Virtual museums, a survey and some issues for consideration. While the digital sharing process undoubtedly enables the preservation and sharing of fragile artifacts (when a single scan can spread a piece of art to countless eyes for the remainder of the digital age), putting art on the internet also allows for audiences around the world to experience and appreciate the art – especially those who would otherwise be unable to see it. Whether personal geography or economy is the barrier to a museum visit, digitizing and sharing works of art over the Internet broadens the available audience and can inspire those halfway around the world. There is no question this increase in audience size and diversity is a benefit for all within the audience – and for art itself. How are we to broaden the capabilities, complexities, and even definitions of art without spreading the art-bug, as it were, to people all around the world?

For B.J. Soren in Best practices in creating quality online experiences for museum users, the focus was not on defending online museums as such but to enable digitized museums to be more productive and effective in reaching the young in particular. Targeting young users - especially first-time users - is essential to fostering an appreciation for art and history (and their nexus), while at the same time ensuring that professionals and adults remain interested is key to ensure the casual and fanatic fans of art return. Soren found, through rather meticulous research, that instead of focusing on either one target audience or one particular focus of teaching, museums must offer a range of different outlets for people of all ages and experience-levels to further enjoy and learn from the museum piece. Fundamentally important were ideas such as sharing and spreading information, making the reception of art/history more than a simple one-way street by encouraging participation and the exchange of ideas between visitors and educators, and finally inspiring creativity and reflection in regards to any given museum exhibit. The bottom line for Soren was to make sure that particularly children remained interested and engaged – and in the online museum world this could mean anything from virtual games relating to the presented information to prompts to create something new with the information garnered from the museum visit. I very much appreciated that one of Soren’s ultimate concerns was with being sensitive to the needs of the community in which museums operate – both to ensure respect for a given culture as well as to reach out and hopefully ensure that the community itself offers information and creative help to individual exhibits and museums for a richer and more honest presentation of the information at hand.

In addition to our readings, I am reminded of one of the most impacting and inspiring TED talks of recent memory (and, as a TED talk junkie, this is not a claim I make lightly). Amit Sood worked for Google and developed the company's Art Project, and, to make a long story short (and not ruin the glory of Sood's attached talk) the Art Project is an inter-museum approach to digitizing the works of the world's great museums in one place, for all people to access on the Internet. The opportunity for individuals to amass digital collections of their favorite works of art and in some small sense 'own' their experience in this permanent way is one, I think, particularly important gift of the Art Project. Attached is the TED talk, for more information certainly take an adventure at the Art Project's home page. 

Both authors and Mr. Sood understand that there are certain limitations to the virtual museum as a locus of presenting (and hopefully inspiring) discussion and history – and I think that at the end of the day virtual museums must “act in a complementary and auxiliary manner” to traditional museums (Styliani et al. 524). So, given all the benefits and wonder of the virtual museum as a learning and teaching tool, why my concern for the loss of the museum-space of old? There are a few tangible (and many more intangible) beauties to the physical museum, and they are the causes I wish to champion.

While the scan of a piece of art may show incredible detail and provide complementary historical information on the piece, its creator, the time period of creation, etc. I truly do not believe that the dimensional experience of a piece of art can be adequately replicated in the digital world. 

To see the individual brush strokes and texture of a painting in real-time, right before your eyes is decidedly different than to see the admittedly incredible pixelation of that same piece on the Internet. This connection with the artist, this fundamental connection to human creation, is irreplaceable and missing in the scans of paintings that I peruse online. 

The physical settings of the museum space itself add to and complicate the experience of appreciating art. Whether the chairs in front of a piece are comfortable or not impacts how long I will spend appreciating any single item - whether there are chairs at all is certainly a consideration for my achey bones. 

Seeing a piece of art (especially one that requires true three-dimensional appreciation as a statue does) from different angles and in different light can have a profound impact on any art lover - another task difficult to replicate with a single scan or even a detailed 3D rendering of a model. 

While it is certainly not encouraged in all museums, to touch a piece of art and thereby further limit the philosophical and spatial distance between the creator and the purveyor of art is another benefit not provided by the virtual museum.

It is extremely hard to quantify the visceral reaction of any individual to a piece of visual art - when the contours of the brush strokes strike one under a certain light or angle and one's reaction and response (even a silent one) to others visiting the museum takes hold in an almost uncontrollable way. By means of some (hopefully rare) self-indulgence, I will leave you with my personal experience - the last time I visited an art museum.

In New York with friends for a long weekend about two months ago, we visited the holy of holies, the Museum of Natural History to explore new exhibits and live vicariously through our younger selves by visiting the old. After a leisurely walk across the Park we made our way to the last stop of the day - the sacred Met. While I somewhat anti-socially broke off from our small group to spend some time alone with the pieces that surrounded me (art is to be appreciated communally, perhaps, but internalized in solitude), I walked for some time examining some pieces and barely taking others in. Until I stopped. For whatever reason - maybe drowsiness from a long day of walking the city or slight confusion from some pre-museum imbibing of spirits - I chose to sit down in front of a particular piece. 

André Derain's Houses of Parliament at Night (1905-06) took from me the desire to keep walking. This piece, with its haunting colors and historic setting, challenged my motivation to see as much as possible and instilled a deeply peaceful feeling that to take in one piece of art fully - truly fully - was perhaps more desirable than to sneak a glance at every piece on earth. 

I spent nearly forty minutes sitting there, in an uncomfortable chair, examining and internalizing every aspect and inch of Derain's work. I took pictures, I contemplated sketches, and, ultimately, I sat in silence hoping that I could someday further reflect on the experience and the moment. To see Houses of Parliament at Night in a digital form would be to do it a disservice - but I will provide it anyway, to give my reader a glimpse of what kept me seated, in an uncomfortable chair, for the better part of an hour. 

The museum is my temple, and the self-sacrifice of time pays off a thousand fold when this congregant finds something truly holy. Use virtual museums and scans of art when you are unable to experience the physical alternatives - use them to store and invigorate your most cherished memories - but never forget the simple humility and profound peace of spending some time in the physical presence of the art you love. 

Everybody Has a Story, Let's Start Listening

David Andrew Johnson said that everybody tells a story, and more importantly perhaps, everybody has a story to tell. With 156,000,000 blogs around today (and 50,000 starting daily) it seems that individuals all around the world are quite quickly realizing that they are no different - we all have important stories to tell. The problem (as high blog-abandonment rates suggest) is that bloggers are frustrated that their own blogs - their own stories - don't attract enough immediate attention. Many (perhaps most) choose to stop telling their stories in that forum instead of waiting it out and hoping that others will either become more interested or that they themselves will hone their story-telling skills to the point that others come back for more.

This abandonment issue is certainly an important one for the blogosphere, but I will argue that instead of being merely the byproduct of readers too rushed to tune in, the dissipation of interest (both of the writer and the readers) is the result of downright uninteresting and unimportant stories. How many times can a reader - with limited time and interest - peruse stories about what an individual author's cat did today (or where they went for a walk, or how their classes are going...)?

As the cost of connectivity is still very high, blogs are less available to writers in the developing world - those who possibly have stories more compelling and conspicuous than your average college-educated, self-interested blogger of the developed world. As the cost is higher to access the internet in the developing world (and as Professor Colle made clear last week many in the developing world only have access to computers in telecenters and other community-based and physically finite locations) wouldn't a blogger in such an area take more care to use their internet time effectively and write in a way that cuts through a day's monotony to something truly meaningful - and hopefully universal?

S. Allan and E. Thorsen bring their readers two excellent examples of how citizen journalism and blogging can be meaningful and important - even vital. In The Case of the Wenchuan Earthquake these authors make clear that in a state like China with rigidly controlled and nationalized media (approved by a dictatorial government) not only do "citizen journalists fill the vacuum" (98) of information when emergencies such as the Wenchuan earthquake occur, but in a more generalizable sense, "It seems fair to say that the value of citizen journalism is the greatest when and where the professional media fail" (102).

This second point applies equally well to Human Rights and Wrongs: Blogging news of everyday life in Palestine, also by Allan and Thorsen. While I would never hope to simplify the situation on the ground in the Middle East to something as black-and-white as rights and wrongs, giving the formerly-voiceless a voice is always to be defended and expanded - no matter what side of a debate the reader is on. As surely as I would defend the freedom of speech (even distasteful, hateful speech) in this country, I am unable and unwilling to see in the lines delineating nation states lines of morality that should disallow an individual to express their own beliefs. As internet access has been aggressively limited by Hamas and others in the region, as well as the very real declining economic conditions in Palestine since the al-Aqsa Intifada in 2000 (85), Palestinian blogs are more necessary now than ever.

Those who speak out in regions and nations where protesters are intimidated and silenced deserve respect and defense. Disagreement with an opinion (especially a blog - written perhaps by someone without access to other forms of traditional public communication and speech) is to be equally defended, but disagreement should never result in censorship.

To pretend I could make this point better than the profound John Stuart Mill would be disingenuous and do a decided disservice to those reading - as such I will provide my point via a wordsmith much more meticulous than I am. "...the peculiar evil of silencing the expression of an opinion is that it is robbing the human race, posterity as well as the existing generation - those who dissent from the opinion, still more than those who hold it. If the opinion is right, they are deprived of the opportunity of exchanging error for truth; if wrong, they lose, what is almost as great a benefit, the clearer perception and livelier impression of truth produced by its collision with error" (On Liberty, 1859).

As a firm believer that a two-state solution is the only possible lasting peace the Middle East will see in my lifetime, I am also quick to defend the rights of Israeli nationhood and my fellow Jews in the region. But to stop here would not be enough - for this would be to deny the basic brotherhood (and sisterhood) I share with the people of Palestine as well, and all people seeking safety, security, and a homeland. There is no one among us who is undeserving of these basic rights, and anyone who claims legitimacy based solely on religious grounds or the dictates of a book written between the 12th and 2nd centuries BCE has lost the debate before it can even begin. We are all human beings, all of us destined to enjoy and endure the same moments of happiness as well as those trials and tribulations that are the substance of life. Reading the Blogging news of everyday life in Palestine I am struck by how universal all of our human desires are, and how ludicrous it is that a piece of land (or a particular faith, or an ideology...) should be the source of such intense and continuing division between people.

To return, finally, to David Johnson should no doubt be a relief to those reading, as I fear my own preaching has replaced academic blogging for the time being. One point that he made really struck me - and gave definition to my own academic focus in a way I was previously unable to articulate. Johnson said, justifying his own tendency to offend, that "much of history is quite offensive." Finally it made sense why I've dedicated these years of my life to the study of History and the ongoing pursuit of learning - not to 'know' the facts of the past but to interpret (and reinterpret) them through a continually evolving lens. My roommate asked me today if you can ever be truly "good" at history. I told him that you can only specialize - gaining extraordinary knowledge and insight into a particular figure, or area, or period of time. But that is not my interest, and I sincerely hope never to find satisfaction in knowing even a great deal about a little thing. To be "good" at history is to be forever learning and finding new sources. This is how I should appreciate blogging (both in writing one and reading many). This is how citizen journalists and bloggers can provide meaningful stories that others will want to read - and keep on reading.

And I hope you do.

Empowering Women to Better Communities

Considering ways to better spread ICT4D within rural communities it is fundamentally important to empower those within the community who are already trusted leaders or teachers. As the women on the finca that Professor Colle discussed were empowered, so too must women in villages and rural areas be empowered to teach their own communities.

My reason for empowering local leaders (particularly women) to take on roles within their rural communities to spread the impact and availability of ICT4D is two-fold – first to utilize pre-existing networks and the influence of individuals within communities who are already trusted as teachers and locals, and secondly to in effect empower those leaders to assume a greater political/social role within their communities and beyond. In this way perhaps these individual women can go from being trusted teachers to powerful sociopolitical voices within their communities – and shift cultures that may value women as teachers but not as complete human beings with the same rights and responsibilities as men. It is important to note that this may not be a role that certain women are comfortable assuming or even want to assume, but this should nonetheless be the aim of progressive students and ICT4D organizers in the field.

The trust that is necessary for any local populace to buy into an ICT program is something that Professor Colle touched on in his presentation – as well as the interaction that he espoused to be so essential to a productive partnership (and an effective ICT4D program must be just that – a true partnership between academics and students in the field, community leaders, and the local populace). Local leaders can also provide important feedback as to what will be the most effective means of reaching and influencing the daily activities of the local populace. For Colle, first in Essex County and later abroad, the audiocassette was a powerful tool to reach and communicate with people by virtue of its ability to be presented during traditional activities such as the agricultural enterprises. So too in other communities audio recordings (with essential time for feedback, answers to recorded questions, etc.) could be particularly useful. The two-way communication between ICT4D providers and those that should directly benefit from its introduction can be channeled through these trusted women leaders. 

Utilizing the leadership and teaching power of local women also has the potential to decrease the overall cost of ICT programs in rural areas. Instead of building and operating a separate kiosk for ICT usage, trusted women community leaders’ homes and places of traditional business (such as the finca, in Colle’s example) can be modified and expanded to house the technologies most needed and suitable for the location.

As Heeks writes (Do information and communication technologies (ICTs) contribute to development? 2010) that men are more likely to be ICT users than women (in India), this goal of empowering women through the utilization of information and communication technologies can help bridge the gender gap in ICT usage and empower women to use such resources. In so doing, the hope remains that the role and respect these women assume in their own communities will expand – benefitting all within the community to see these women leaders (and by extension all women) as supremely capable, intelligent, and powerful figures – and fundamentally worthy of respect and equal rights.