Friday, May 6, 2016

Communication Misfires at the deCordova

“Tut, tut, child!” said the Duchess. “Everything’s got a moral, if only you can find it.”
(Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Chapter 9)

            Tucked away on 30 acres of wooded wonderland in Lincoln, Massachusetts on the shore of Flint Pond, the deCordova Sculpture Park & Museum boasts over 100,000 visitors each year, yet feels like a hidden gem, evoking the energy of a Lewis Carroll story. In 2011 the institution announced its goal to become “a leading sculpture park in this country,” by 2016 in a strategic plan articulating its path forward. In the accompanying press release, the deCordova highlighted five primary objectives: to focus more resources towards activity in the park and the sculpture collection, it’s “greatest and unique asset;” to incorporate more international pieces, acknowledging that art is “both global and local;” to increase accessibility to contemporary art by “deepening its educational offerings to give divergent points of entry for visitors, striving to connect audiences with contemporary art in innovative ways;” to connect community to the artists and their process by “opening up the curtain,” to behind the scenes work; and, to insure fiscal health and long-term sustainability.[i]


           
            This vision represents the deCordova’s enduring commitment to an educational mandate aggressively pursued by its founding director, Frederick P. Walkey from the museum’s infancy in the 1950s, yet also reflects the slow (and at times) rocky evolution of the park and museum from a local entity supporting the needs of Lincoln residents, to its current lofty goal of national (and international) acclaim. How is a museum’s community defined? To whom are cultural heritage institutions accountable? How do organizations’ administrative and curatorial decisions impact discovery of information regarding their history, collections, and policies; and to what extent should they be responsible for promoting broader accessibility to the same?

“Cultural knowledge spaces are constructed with information shaped and influenced by sociopolitical forces.”[ii] Whether a large, federally funded museum, or a local historical society run solely on volunteer time, cultural heritage institutions are creatures of their surroundings, subject to relationships in both their internal and external ecologies. In their analysis of natural history museums, Star and Griesemer examine the “intersectional nature of the museum’s shared work,”[iii] which acknowledges the network of various stakeholders and modes of interactions at play. Among the theoretical foundations cited by the authors is the work of Chicago school sociologist Everett C. Hughes, who writes of institutional ecology:

“In some measure an institution chooses its environment. This is one of the functions of the institution as enterprise. Someone inside the institution acts as an entrepreneur...one of the things the enterprising element must do is choose within the possible limits the environment to which the institution will react, that is, in many cases, the sources of its funds, the sources of its clientele (whether they be clients who will buy shoes, education or medicine), and the sources of its personnel of various grades and kinds. This is an ecology of institutions in the original sense of that term.”[iv]

These same theories can be applied to an art museum like the deCordova, whose institutional ecology comprises of not just curators, artists, patrons, contractors, and volunteers, but also preschool teachers, budding thermal analysis scientists, and the entire Town of Lincoln. An understanding of its beginnings helps explain the deCordova’s footing amidst this sociopolitical web, and perhaps why it struggles towards self-awareness in an increasingly digital age. Regardless, it offers a fascinating case study for examination of museums’ information management practices and their resulting effects.



The deCordova is a destination. Its Strategic Plan included an ambitious Master Plan to update current landscaping in the park in efforts to increase environmental sustainability, expand accessibility, and maximize the park’s usability to families, including increased access during the winter months, as laid out in the deCordova’s Request for Proposal. As someone who has visited the park with a friend and her stroller, I can attest that much of the sculpture grounds are inaccessible to individuals with mobility issues or assisted transport, so such developments are heartening. Yet in recent visits, little in this arena seems to have changed.


The museum is obviously interested in growing its clientele (as per Hughes), in both its commitment to educating audiences in contemporary art, to heighten its stature as a world-class sculpture park, and to increase revenue. In many ways the deCordova purports to be a pillar of the community, transparent in its decisions, and forthcoming with information regarding its collections and administration. The park and museum devoted a page on their website to sharing their strategic planning process with the community and highlighting their inclusive approach, which engaged with “visitors, friends, and constituents.” The deCordova goes to great lengths to describe the process, its participants, and even shares video links to the “Strategic Innovation Sessions” and “Strategic Planning Sessions,” which would provide invaluable insight into the approach they take to information management, were they actually available. Instead, this like many other examples of information exchange expected or desired by users, the deCordova fails to execute, especially in the online environment.

The deCordova’s website is an efficient relic. It offers a clean design, and the initial perception of usability, with minimal clicks required to learn of hours or pricing, browse the gift shop, or scan the calendar for upcoming events. The Park and Museum’s mission and history are quickly locatable, offering visitors a palpable version of the institution’s genesis: the property, originally the deCordova and Dana Museum and Park, was bequest to the Town of Lincoln in the estate of Julian de Cordova, a wealthy businessman and traveler with a penchant for knick knacks and oddities. The Town agreed to the gift in a deed executed 1930, which was realized in 1945 upon de Cordova’s death. According the website’s version of history, “independent appraisers determined that Julian's collections were not of substantial interest or value, so the collection was sold and the proceeds were used to create a museum of regional contemporary art,” which opened its doors in 1950.



This version also credits the Trustees of the estate with this innovative plan, despite the fact that the Trustees assigned in de Cordova’s will, were mostly disinterested in the museum, and in fact, subject to a lawsuit brought by the Town of Lincoln forcing them to simultaneously fund the museum and park and stay out of its administrative decisions. These facts are not merely gossip, but illustrate the dynamics of control that play out in the lifecycle of an institution, and the intersection of motives influencing a museum’s collection strategy and information management.

The archives of the deCordova and Dana Museum and Park provide some sharp insight into how the institution views itself today, and how an institution’s ecology is shaped by its entrepreneurs and surroundings (to borrow the language of Hughes). The collection is housed in the historical holdings at the Lincoln Public Library, available to view upon appointment. While the three boxes do not include any contemporary materials, beyond a smattering of annual reports from between 1970 and 2000, the archival collection includes original documentation of the deCordova’s formation, the lawsuit, and countless photos of the information objects collected by Julian de Cordova and his wife, deemed lacking in curatorial or monetary value.



The early administrative records recounting the original gift indicate the Town of Lincoln felt overwhelmed by a property and its contents that were in disrepair and requiring substantial (and perpetual) capital investment if expected to meet de Cordova’s edict that a permanent museum and park be created after his passing. In 1948 the courts ruled in the Town’s favor, citing the doctrine of cy-près, which affords beneficiaries of estate requests that would be impossible, impracticable, or illegal to perform, legal recourse to via probate to adjust the terms of the will. Thus, from its inception, the Town—a collective group of interested municipal citizens, determined information surrounding the deCordova’s identity and structure, rather than a contingent of art-focused leaders.

The Town followed de Cordova’s instructions to hire a director of artistic esteem, and Walkey, and MFA grad, pursued an aggressive platform promoting modern, New England art, and staying committed to education and outreach. Until he retired in the late 70s, the deCordova followed this path, focusing on contemporary art, notably ahead of the curve in regional Pop Art and Boston's post-war expressionist movement. The next decades saw the collection and programming emphasis changing to meet the whims of its directors—from focusing on New England, experimental art, to an $8 million expansion of studio space for artists-in-residence, to its change in name and centrality in 2009 to the deCordova Sculpture Park and Museum in 2009 under guidance of director Dennis Kois.

Each of these shifts never strays far from the deCordova’s landscape—and ultimately the Town of Lincoln—as its nexus. Indeed, archival records reveal a rift at the end of Walkey’s tenure, in which Francis S. Andrews, former director and president responded to Lincoln residents’ desire to restrict the park to only Lincoln’s own. Andrews appealed for a broader vision for the Museum and Park, noting that, “by providing for the concept of town “ownership” and control by a politically sponsored Board, the deCordova gift provided the basis for sometimes narrow, localistic thinking.”



Nearly 40 years later, has the deCordova eliminated this exclusionary energy? While the doors to the Park and Museum are open to all technically, barriers imposed by cost, location, and lack of access to its collections and information regarding the same, especially in the digital realm, would indicate no, or not entirely. For an outsider, participating in the deCordova’s ecosystem involves constant mediation of conflicting information and inconsistent semiotics, where outward communication inaccurately represents actual policy and action.

Let’s return to the website. The deCordova’s online presence is much like its curatorial approach—it imparts information onto its audience in a singular fashion. Www.decordova.org is primarily a venue for administrative and narrative communication about the Park and Museum, its partners, educational and event opportunities, history, and future vision. While its mission is to foster “the creation, exhibition, and exploration of contemporary art through our exhibitions, learning opportunities, collection, and unique park setting. . . . [and] engage all visitors with exhibitions and programs that connect our audiences to contemporary art and culture,” the deCordova’s collections are featured no more prominently than any other information object on the website. Under the ‘Art’ tab are links to Current Exhibitions, Upcoming Exhibitions, Past Exhibitions, Sculpture Park, Permanent Collection, and Rappaport Prize. The first two sections offer short blurbs about current and upcoming exhibitions with some brief, prescriptive curatorial narrative and a few examples of works feature, offered as low-resolution digital images with limited metadata (artist, title, materials, date, on loan from, etc.) and a noticeable copyright mark to discourage download and reuse. There are seldom links to artists’ webpages (let alone social media accounts), and the occasional link to an exhibition book sold at the gift shop website, but mostly the information provided is static text.

The Past Exhibitions and Sculpture Park sections are the only two to include any sort of query capabilities. With respect to the former, users can search by keyword and filter by year, though it takes some frustrating trial by error to determine that only exhibitions from 2006 forward are available, despite the year drop-down box given options from 1950 to current. There is a pdf available listing all exhibits from 1950-2011, though no images or metadata beyond artist, title, and year are provided. Digital images are a selected few from each exhibition. Latham writes, “The museum system, in the end, plays a major role in providing potential information for users but also in taking away many potential choices. This is a responsibility that all museum workers need to understand, no matter what organizational role they play.”[v] This holds true for the individual (or team) designing and providing copy for an institution’s website, the person supplying metadata for digital objects, and the director determining which artists to feature in a season’s exhibition.



The sculpture section search interface is slightly more robust, offering users the choice to search by creator last name (though it doesn’t specify whose last name), material type, year created (again with the same issue), with an archive of sculptures is organized by author last name available to view, all with the same narrative style descriptive metadata. The Permanent Collection Section page is quite limited, with items organized by artist last name and bare-bones metadata for each included. The Collection itself is described in a brief side bar, noting its major holdings of work by photographers Harold Edgerton, Charles “Teenie” Harris, Aaron Siskind, Jules Aarons, Larry Fink, Edward Steichen, and Bradford Washburn, large-scale sculptural works by Dorothy Dehner, Antony Gormley, Dan Graham, Alexander Liberman, Nam June Paik, Jaume Plensa, Rona Pondick, George Rickey, Ursula von Rydingsvard, William Tucker, Gary Webb, and others, and “one of the largest and most comprehensive museum collection of works by artists of the New England region since c. 1950, with particular depth in Boston artists in general and members of the mid-twentieth-century Boston Expressionist group (Jack Levine, Hyman Bloom, Karl Zerbe, David Aronson, Arthur Polonsky, Barbara Swan, Bernard Chaet, and others).” Again, none of these artists’ names are supported with links or additional information.

Much like the website, the museum itself gives the illusion of patron-control, but is entirely curated and does little to invite interaction or a multitude of interpretations. Visitors are free to explore the galleries in whatever order they like, but descriptive placards and signage carry patrons along a prescribed path in terms of themes and analysis. Children and families are supposedly encouraged—with adventure kits offered up to create games as you explore around the grounds. Yet on several occasions I witnessed an employee hawking over a parent with kids, repeatedly harping to not let them touch anything, despite the delightful, playground-like appeal of many works featured. Several designated areas were available for children to “interact” with the art, but these amounted to a wall of string and pins, and another of fuzzy fur—perhaps compelling in a sensory capacity, but hardly manifesting into the realm of deep participatory creation.

I embarked on my own reconnoitering related to this project. I noticed an iPad set up with a survey for visitors (though no sign indicated that’s what it was) and decided to complete it. One screen indicated the museum had a mobile app, which I searched for on my iPhone but couldn’t locate. I asked an employee who radioed to a manager to see if the Museum had a mobile app, and was told that they did not. Later I inquired at the front desk if the deCordova had a library. I was informed that they did, but that it was no longer open to the public as of several years past. The reception by staff to this, and all of my inquiries, was incredibly polite and seemingly helpful, asking for my name and contact info so they could have someone more qualified to answer reach out to me.



Yet in another example of inconsistent institutional information sharing, when I attempted to contact the registrar and the marketing offices about the library, digital images, their content management system, and any preservation plan, I received back only one terse email stating they were likely too busy planning for a summer event and wouldn’t be able to answer my questions (most of which required only one word answers). I called another number and left a message to which I received no response, and a second, polite email practically begging for just a few responses that went unanswered.

My experience at the Lincoln Public Library reviewing the deCordova archives was much more positive. I emailed the archivist in an advance and was invited in any time, even when she was not working. I had to complete a release form, though I appreciated that the Library did not ask for information about my research request or affiliation, which can alienated non-traditional archives users. The reference librarian pulled the three boxes in the collection for me and I spent several hours reading through old correspondence, legal proceedings, marketing materials, and several large albums of de Cordova’s photos—a rich collection from his world travel’s, early year’s at the Flint Pond Estate, and pages upon pages documenting his much bemoaned art. This is a perspective closely controlled by the Park and Museum. Unfortunately, the collection does not contain current administrative records, thus much recent information about the deCordova and its administrative activities remain difficult or impossible to access.







At the deCordova, like many cultural heritage institutions, “a small range of individuals are making the choices about value, preservation, and ultimately what they interpret as informative pieces. This has an enduring effect on what information is preserved and what is not.”[vi] The way a museum communicates to the public—about its collections, its policies, and its plans is revealing. The deCordova presents a series dichotomous messages of inclusion/exclusion, inviting engagement, yet stymieing it. Like the missing video links, the Landscape Master Plan initially offers users a timeline updating them on the Committee’s progress, but the updates stop in 2013.

As I mentioned in my initial report, the deCordova’s Strategic Plan mentions nothing of increased web presence, digital engagement, or other online efforts to increasing their stature as a renowned sculpture park. They do employ active social media accounts—Twitter, Facebook, and Pinterest—but their communications on digital media are similar to their overarching approach. They share information about their exhibits and selected collections (and logistical information), but restrict engagement with their users to the occasional retweet of safe, promotional content. The deCordova will occasionally live tweet a lecture or event, but don’t involve themselves in any conversation—only as a transmitter of selected messages. The Pinterest page is a different “boundary object,”[vii] as it apparently used for marketing the deCordova’s private event space rental. Had the marketing department answered my inquiries I would have obtained more information about how they use this platform and the digital images of private events at the Park and Museum. Ironically, this page appears to offer the most complete digital library of any collection at the deCordova.

One could deduce that it is a strategic attention to financial sustainability expressed between the lines in terms of what information is digitally shared and what is not. The deCordova’s Corporate Membership and unique Art Loan project are clearly presented, and worth noting that the video about the latter project is not restricted. Additionally, it would be interesting to dive deeper into the relationship of the deCordova and the Lincoln Nursery School onsite, which while non-profit, carries a sizeable tuition price tag. While they do offer financial aid, it doesn’t seem that transportation is provided, which would be an obvious barrier to many. I do not know enough about the economics of day cares and preschools to make any assessments, though. This again harkens to Latham, who writes, “This sort of situational and temporal selection is precisely what museum professionals do when bringing an object into the collection, or choosing to exhibit, loan or market any particular pieces. The potential pool of information, then, has been reduced when it finally reaches the user, affecting what range of experience they could have at a museum.”[viii]



What is the moral of this story? I do not doubt the deCordova is committed to bringing contemporary art to its community, and educating them in a unique, beautiful natural environment. I do, however, doubt the desire of an institution to be a national or world leader when their management of information instead expresses perception of a much more limited ecology. One wonders if the same Town of Lincoln exclusionary tensions revealed in the archives still have a sociopolitical undercurrent in deCordova decisions today.






[i]  (2011), DeCordova Announces its 2011–2016 Strategic Plan,” Press Release http://www.decordova.org/sites/default/files/D/deCordovaStrategicPlan.pdf
[ii] Mason, I. (2007), “Cultural Information Standards—Political Territory and Rich Rewards,” in Theorizing Digital Cultural Heritage: A Critical Discourse, 223
[iii] Star, S. and Griesemer, J. (1989), “Institutional Ecology, ‘Translations’ and Boundary Objects: Amateurs and Professionals In Berkeley’s Museum of Vertebrate Zoology, 1907-39,” Social Studies of Science,(19), 408
[iv] Hughes, E. (1971),“Going Concerns: The Study of American Institutions” The Sociological Eye, 62, in Star & Griesemer
[v] Latham, K. (2012),"Museum object as document," Journal of Documentation, (68)1, 58
[vi] Ibid, 52
[vii] Star, S. and Griesemer, J., “Institutional Ecology”
[viii] Latham, K. “Museum object as document,” 52

Wednesday, May 4, 2016

Place and Play at The Mill Museum


The Windham Textile and History Museum (or The Mill Museum of Connecticut) is a non-profit educational institution located in scenic Willimantic, CT. Their mission is to preserve and interpret the history of textiles, textile arts, and the textile industry, and to promote a greater understanding of major trends and changes in technology, immigration, society, culture, the economy, and the environment. Their primary intellectual goal is to compare and contrast the middle and working classes, as these class distinctions relate to the operation of the mills and their effect on the local and immigrant communities of Willimantic. They do this through their museum, library, and archival holdings, as well as through interpretive tours and lectures.
 
A Mill Worker's kitchen (left) and a Mill Manager's Parlor (right)

My analysis of The Mill Museum focuses on the concept of place in historic sites, through the lens of two competing theories of historic house conservation: preserving ‘history in continuum’ versus a ‘period of significance.’ In a 2001 UNESCO publication on historic house museums, Cabral states that a museum’s fundamental purpose is to “provide aesthetic pleasure, emotional delight, a space for daydreaming, the opportunity for evasion, imaginary entertainment” (42). Above and beyond any national or local mandates to preserve history and culture, the transfer of knowledge can occur most successfully in places that make space for these very things, and I think the folks over at The Mill Museum would agree.  Their institution runs on very strong undercurrents of place and play, and I think this is what has helped it develop into a successful medium-sized museum.


GENERAL OVERVIEW

There was continuous textile manufacturing on this site for nearly 130 years, beginning in 1857 and not ending until the last factory shut down in 1985. The Windham Textile & History Museum opened only four years later in 1989, through the efforts of a community group who wanted to preserve the history and identity of the town. In 2014, American Thread Company was added to the National Register as a Historic District, comprised of 14 buildings and 5 structures spread over 11.62 acres. As a private museum, The Mill Museum leases their two buildings from the town, and is governed by a 16 person Board of Directors. The 8 “regular” staff is headed by Executive Director Jamie Eves, who is on the History Faculty at the University of Connecticut and is also a Windham town historian; other staff includes an Educational Consultant, Collections Manager, a Gift Shop Manager/Asst. Business Manager, a Webmistress, a Volunteer Coordinator (who is also the Sunday Gift Shop Volunteer), and a Friday Gift Shop Volunteer. There are currently about 6 regular volunteers in the library and archive, and 1 intern a year on average. 

This dedicated team of almost entirely unpaid volunteers not only keeps the permanent exhibits up and running, with at least one special exhibit every year, but also engages in a variety of year-round educational and outreach programs, and performs archival and library work wherever possible. The Mill Museum’s collections encompass antique sewing machines, industrial machinery, furniture and home appliances, as well as small household items and tools. The archival and library collections cover printed material and maps, published books, photographs, oral history recordings, and artwork.

Besides the regular collections, the Dunham Hall Library itself is an important historical document: it was Willimantic’s first “public library” and continues to be the home of the current library and archive, in addition to being the regular meeting space for local history groups. The Dugan Mill (which at various times housed both the Mill’s fire brigade and its Engineering Department) currently provides exhibition space for the recreated Mill Floor (with equipment and machinery from the 1890s-1950s), with a reconstructed Machinist’s Bench, Print Shop, and Overseer’s Office. The Museum’s intellectual content includes a website with educational, documentary, interpretive, and primary source materials, including digitized archival documents and personal essays . The remaining granite gneiss mill buildings now accommodate both new industry and lower-cost residences for students and artists; they tower over and surround the two official museum buildings, adding to the sense of place The Mill Museum cultivates.

A repurposed mill now known as Artspace provides lower-cost housing for local artists and students, as well as gallery space. The mural shown here was painted in 1995 by local muralist Gordon MacDonald.

I’ve been living in Willimantic for a few years now, and grew up in other mill towns in northeastern Connecticut; the mills really do become a backdrop to daily life that has a definite visual and emotional impact (for good and bad). But they can just as easily fade into the background until they literally fall apart around you. After spending some time in the museum and library, then walking through the historic district again, I came to see how dedicated the Mill Museum is to preserving the history of the rise of the textile industry and its slow decline, along with the impact it continues to have on the mill communities that remain after the mills themselves are gone.
There was a smoke stack here not long ago, documented by local artist Harrison Judd before it collapsed.

DUELING THEORIES OF PRESERVATION: HISTORICAL CONTINUUM VS. PERIOD OF SIGNIFICANCE

‘HISTORY IN CONTINUUM’
Two dueling theories or approaches to preservation guided my thoughts on and experience of The Mill Museum: the tension between preserving ‘History in Continuum’ versus restoring a historic home to a ‘Period of Significance’. One of these emphasizes or only preserves original items of specific people or places, while the other recreates a distinct period of historical significance (Ponsonby 200). The coolest thing about the Mill Museum is that its identity and location allows and almost requires it do both! The histories of the mills cover a long period of growth and change, with multiple figures having prominent roles in shaping the industry of the area, as well as the social structures and living spaces of generations of people who lived and worked in Willimantic. The Criteria for Historical Significance applied to the district by the National Park Service notes the architecture, industry, community planning, and development that took place on the site. These elements encourage preserving a historic continuum, especially as it relates to the exteriors buildings and surrounding areas, many of which have been abandoned, destroyed or repurposed over the years. Remembering the mills’ decline is just as important as documenting its heyday. These changes in mill ownership, structures, and function have been and continue to be documented and preserved, but the museum also documents the shifting demographics and living standards of the people who owned and worked in the mills.
The Mill Museum is lucky in that it was created almost immediately after the mills ceased functioning, by community members with living memories of what life was like and a desire to preserve the entire (and continuing) experience of life with the mills. But they also recognized that it was equally important to document and recreate the period when the mill had its most significant impacts on society.

‘PERIOD OF SIGNIFICANCE’
The period of historical significance for The Mill Museum is 1857–1916, and their recreations depict life circa 1890. Latham describes how restoring to a period of historic significance often requires the use of both “Types” and “Token” museum objects (51). Their emphasis on documenting the working class more or less requires the use of replicas, because the items of daily life from that period didn’t typically survive. In this particular case, the company sold off most of their objects over time and destroyed or removed most of their official documents, so the number of original archival documents about the American Thread Company itself is incredibly limited. The period items the museum does have range from the late 19th century to the 1940s, or later. These came from donors and locations around the state, no ONLY from the original mill building. Their only functioning machine (a spool tumbler) is made of an original drum a volunteer found on eBay, with mechanical parts fabricated by students from Windham Technical High School. Re-enactors and docents are careful to point out which items are original and which are replicas or rebuilt during tours. Even if they aren’t from the exact owners or workers, these original period items are still of the population, time, class, and community of the Willimantic area and NE Connecticut region.
Naumova maintains it is the role of “these [living] museums [to] offer a tactile experience of culture and history while creating both narrative and physical spaces for visitors to ‘insert’ themselves within the cultural production of heritage” (1). The recreations are important for teaching about a time period that has passed, but the environment of the place lends a lot of emotional heft to the importance of preserving ‘history in continuum’ and a space for visitors to project themselves onto the story.


AURA OF PLACE
“But if the essence of a museum is not to be found in its objects, then where? I propose that the answer is in being a place that stores memories and presents and organizes meaning in some sensory form. It is both the physicality of a place and the memories and stories told therein that are important” (Gurian 165).
Assorted views from the permanent exhibits at The Mill Museum, in both the main building and the Dugan Mill
The aura of the place is that feeling of emotional connection you have when you are in a specific place, an idea based on a 2015 article by Alevtina Naumova. In this article she describes an interactive and emotional role for historic house museums that traditional museums do not often get to indulge in, because “living house museums, on another hand, move past this [static] model of transmission of knowledge and strive to recreate that indefinable ‘sense’ or ‘aura’ of the time period, of what it could have been like to live back in the day” (2). When I walk the historic “district,” the remaining mill buildings loom over me; I see the old worker’s row houses, and on the way home I drive through the neighborhoods of Victorian houses where the middle class used to live; I stand on the mill floor next to a machine that dwarfs me and read about the 14 year old girl who wore high heels so she would appear the required working age of 16, as well as be able to reach a machine I myself cannot reach. I am able to absorb information about the history of the mills by feeling and sensing, by virtue of the physical environment, completely apart from the interpretive text and recreations that only tell me about what happened in the past.
Giovanni Pinna, introducing historic house museums in that same 2001 UNESCO publication, writes that a historic house museum “is highly evocative because not only does it contain objects, it also embodies the creative imagination of the people who lived and moved within its walls” (7). The Mill Museum achieves this by incorporating quotations from oral histories everywhere in the mill building, which personalizes the industrial experience, inviting and allowing you to imagine life at different times and from different perspectives (managers vs. worker; skilled vs. unskilled laborers; men and women; adults and children). All of this creates an environment of participatory play, or “wide awareness,” and offers patrons of all ages a chance to satisfy their imagination in ways they are not often allowed (Naumova 4-6). Naumova concludes her discussion with a call for historic house museums to enjoy and indulge in the possibilities that storytelling provides:
…the practice of heritage is, first of all, a practice of story telling…We weave the narrative using physical objects, a game of pretence [sic], urban mythology and physical urban spaces. It is an embodied process too, since a true story can never come alive if it is left encased in a glass ‘box.’ It needs to be forever flowing, it wants to be played with, repeated, told and re-told. Otherwise, it turns into just a ‘remembering.’” (7)
The Mill Museum definitely embraces this imperative of storytelling, using both their physical collections and location to tell the multiple narratives that exist in the history of the mill experience. The physical collections and environment are complimented by library and archival collections that add to the museum experience through their intellectual content and location in historic Dunham Hall.


LIBRARY AND ARCHIVE

The Dunham Hall Library was developed as part of the assimilation program for immigrant mill workers; open from 1878 to 1941, it grew from 600 books to 7,000 volumes before it closed. Open in the evening, the library was open to mill workers and the surrounding community, with additional space used for lectures, games, drawing & singing lessons, Sunday school, Episcopal services and English lessons. Although only about a dozen books from the original library remain (some are shown in the banner above; most were sold off when it closed in 1941), The Mill Museum has worked to build an artificial collection that intellectually supports their curatorial and interpretive work, and supports the needs of researchers. 

Dunham Hall Library

Physically, the library and archive are located on the third floor of the main building, the only space not accessible by ramps; intellectually, the collections are accessible but with assistance. The historic space is beautiful, and adds to that “aura of place” by letting visitors walk through, meet, and study in a room that was used for these same purposes over a hundred years ago. Unfortunately, the space is not energy efficient or preservation friendly, with temperature control being a serious issue, but efforts are underway to address the physical needs of the collections: past grants have provided for rehousing of many collections, as well as processing, description, and digitizing of others. 

The website offers up a huge amount of information to those who are physically or otherwise unable to visit in person, and gives researchers an opportunity to generally explore the museum collections before visiting.
The History page of the Mill Museum website
 However, there aren’t currently any organized information systems available online; they are working on digital infrastructure and collections are cataloged in Past Perfect. With donations remaining fairly steady since they opened, space is becoming an issue. Archival and library activities, like many other museum functions, are performed by volunteers, which has lead to a descriptive backlog that is typical of most archives (Jorgensen et al. 456). The most critical issues in terms of the collection would be to get the library collection into a catalog and to create inventories of archival material; both of these projects are in process, as are efforts to secure funding and support for further digitization of collections.


COMMUNITY
The collections and sense of place are incredible strengths, but it is evident that their biggest strength is the sense of community around The Mill Museum, and they are fortunate to have some amount of support at various levels of government. Even though the town and region are not wealthy, the museum receives support locally and from the state (if not always in money, in spirit) and the recent recognition from the National Register acknowledges their historical significance to our country. The local community and the state provide financial support for both the museum’s continued existence and special projects, ranging from capital improvements, grants and potential collaborations (like plans to join the Connecticut Digital Archive or CTDA), community outreach, volunteers, and interns.

Windham Mills Heritage State Park
 The community support helps maintain the exterior environments, which add to the ambience of what could be a very dreary area. Student volunteers from Eastern Connecticut State University (ECSU) do spring clean up every year as part of the Town Wide, Town Pride day, a joint program of the town and the college. The area around The Mill Museum includes the Garden on the Bridge, which is maintained by the Garden Club of Windham and the Windham Mills State Heritage Park, a part of the Willimantic River Alliance. Volunteers also staff the gift shop, are docents and re-enactors for special events and school groups, process collections, and help curate special exhibitions. Using the building for what it was originally intended—a store, a meeting place, a space to learn and socialize, even to assimilate—but in a new way, fosters an intense sense of community responsibility in volunteers and researchers, and encourages “the people” to be actively involved in creating the record of their cultural heritage.

This community-centered attitude is also evident in The Mill Museum’s web presence, both on their website and their Facebook page. 
The Mill Museum's Facebook page advertises events, documents the area, and shares historical content with their followers.

The Facebook page is very active and offers diverse content, from publicizing events, to showing archival materials being processed or images documenting the local area. They have been regularly posting original content as well as relevant stories about Connecticut textiles, textile history, museums, and historic houses for the last five years, and there seems to be a real back and forth between the museum and their constituents online.

 
This screen shot shows a public art project by Kenneth Saintonge, a museum volunteer and local artist, discussed below. This also illustrates the conversational tone of The Mill Museum's Facebook page, and the open attitude of the Hysterical Historicals, a local history group that meets at the museum.

In addition to offering formal programs, participatory experiences, and volunteering opportunities, The Mill Museum encourages activities like taking documentary pictures and using the archive for new creative artistic endeavors; this breeds loyalty in the community and helps pass on historical knowledge through the arts.


HISTORICAL SIGNIFICANCE & FUTURE TRENDS
The Mill Museum participates in a number of activities that have obviously helped it become as successful as it is, and they are sure to continue these even as they work to update their digital infrastructure. They already embrace some key elements of Carson’s “Plan B” in that they completely recognize the “reality that storytelling is the powerful medium in which modern learning takes place” (19). The intellectual content of The Mill Museum packs an emotional punch that traditional museums about the textile industry could not:

 ·      Walking between the workers and the managers living spaces reveal the stark differences in a way that contrasting items laid out in display cases don’t illustrate nearly as well;
·      Items like the scrap of cloth from Slater’s Mill (the first textile factory in the United States), or a 1903 union charter for the Loom Fixers Union, help to put the mill experiences in Willimantic into a broader context of manufacturing at these moments of past national significance; and
·      Comparing and contrasting the antique sewing machines and mill machinery from different periods of time helps to place a long period of textile history onto a continuum of technological advances, and helps visitors make sense of how these changes in industry affected and created new social structures.

The Mill Museum will also surely continue and expand the beneficial relationships they already enjoy with local artists and academics. Last year, a coalition funded by the Connecticut Office of the Arts launched the My Windham Project, which called on local artists to create public art as a path towards revitalization of downtown Willimantic. A volunteer at the museum participated in this project by creating a series of images from archival material that helped bring mill history to the main street, as way to connect residents to “the town as it is, and the town as it was.”


Encouraging this kind artistic project exposes members of the public to both the history the museum is attempting to preserve and to the idea of archival material as a link to the past. Visual reminders are an amazing way to draw people in and help them imagine themselves in a historical context. There are also multiple murals in town that depict industry and the role it has played in society. I hope town-wide public art projects continue to draw on material from The Mill Museum, and that museum material inspires other local artists; as a practicing artist myself, I definitely plan on spending some time there in the future!

The Mill Museum is sure to continue to capitalize on, and work with, their dedicated community through outreach events around town, in the natural environment, and in the surrounding areas.   
Some of these include

Despite all of this outreach, this organization could clearly benefit from a wholehearted jump into some kind of social tagging, transcription, or community annotation project: capitalizing on the supportive and engaged network of volunteers could enhance the work they already do and potentially pull in new users (Zorich et al. 14). Modern museum patrons want to see themselves reflected in the historical narrative, and want to insert themselves into history; using social media and Web 2.0 to facilitate this would engage users more thoroughly in the learning experience (Carson 26). The re-enactment events are a step in the direction of this idea, but launching additional social media platforms where guests are encouraged to photograph their visits and use those photographs in new interpretive ways could open up possibilities for novel outreach and educational campaigns.
The Windham Textile & History Museum is an important element of the Willimantic community and works tirelessly to preserve and make available the history of a small town that was at the center of the textile industry for a significant period of time. Cabral claims “the museum is a place of memory and a place of power. The museum is the ‘house of memory’ that preserves the objects of some of us mortals who, able to overcome the condition of being mortal, were immortalized. They will always be remembered, by the force of memory” (43). The Mill Museum ensures that those mere mortals that are documented and remembered include both the titans of industry that built our economy and social structures, as well as those immigrants and workers who made it all possible. More importantly, they work to put them on equal historical footing, so future generations can know and hopefully understand their important contributions to our culture.






TECH SPECS FROM NPS NRHP APPLICATION

      Added to National Register as a District in 2014 for statewide significance in two areas: “associated with events that have made a significant contribution to the broad patterns of our history” (A); and “embody the distinctive characteristics of a type, period, or method of construction, or that represent the work of a master, or that possess high artistic values, or that represent a significant and distinguishable entity whose components may lack individual distinction.” (C)
      14 buildings and 5 structures (11.62 acres) - all extant mills, store houses, and other associated buildings, including the Stable, Office and Library & Company Store (current museum), plus bridges and other buildings and structures (Gate House, Wheel House, Machine Shop, Bleachery, Dye Houses)
      Architecture: Late Victorian: Romanesque Revival and Queen Anne; 19th and 20th Century Industrial; Late 19th and 20th Century Revivals: Colonial Revival
      Historic Functions: Industry: manufacturing facility, warehouse, waterworks
      Significance: Architecture, Community Planning & Development, Industry
      Period of Significance: 1857-1916


My more general review of the museum can be found here: http://432spr16cchi.blogspot.com/2016/03/final-project-part-i-intro-to.html


REFERENCES
Albanese, E. “Mill museum saves Willimantic’s hard history.” Boston.com. The Boston Globe, April 13, 2008. Web. Accessed April 27, 2016 at http://archive.boston.com/travel/explorene/connecticut/articles/2008/04/13/mill_museum_saves_willimantics_hard_history/

“American Thread Company.” National Register of Historic Places Program. National Park Service, 30 July 2014. Web. Accessed April 22, 2016 at https://www.nps.gov/nr/feature/places/14000434.htm
Cabral, M. 2001. “Exhibiting and communicating history and society in historic house museums.” Museum International (Unesco Paris), No. 210, 53(2): 41-46.

Carson,C. 2008. “The End of History Museums: What’s Plan B?” The Public Historian 30(4): 9-27.

“Edit-a-thon”. 2016. Wikipedia, April 2, 2016. Web. Accessed April 30, 2016 at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edit-a-thon

Gurian, E. H. 1999. “What is the Object of this Exercise? A meandering exploration of the many meanings of objects in museums.” Daedalus, America’s Museums (Summer, 1999), 128(3): 163-183.

Jorgensen, C., P. F. Marty, and K. Braun. 2012. "Connecting to Collections in Florida: Current conditions and critical needs in libraries, archives, and museums." Library Quarterly 82(4): 453-476.

Latham, K. F. 2012. “Museum object as document: using Buckland’s information concepts to understand museum experiences.” Journal of Documentation 68 (1): 45-71.

Macdonald, S. (ed). 2006. Chapter 6: “Collecting Practices.” A Companion to Museum Studies. John Wiley & Sons. 592 pp.

The Mill Museum. 2016. Facebook. Web. Accessed April 30, 2016 at https://www.facebook.com/The-Mill-Museum-184249887043/

Naumova, A. 2015. “‘Touching’ the Past: Investigating lived experiences of heritage in living history museums.” The International Journal of the Inclusive Museum 7: 1-8.

Pinna, G. 2001. “Introduction to historic house museums.” Museum International (Unesco Paris), No. 210, 53(2): 4-9.

Ponsonby, M. 2011. “Textiles and Time: Reactions to aged and conserved textiles in historic houses open to the public in England and the USA.” Textile History 42(2): 200-219.

Windham Mills State Heritage Park. n.d. Willimantic River Alliance. Web. Accessed May 1, 2016 at http://www.willimanticriver.org/recreation/pg_park_windham-mills.html

Windham Textile & History Museum: The Mill Museum. 2016. Web. Accessed April 30, 2016 at www.millmuseum.org

Zorich, Diane M., Günter Waibel, and Ricky Erway. 2008. Beyond the Silos of the LAMs: Collaboration among libraries, archives and museums.