Polymaths, experts, and the new information hunter-gatherers

I chewed through more than a few metaphors to try to encapsulate a concept that's been occupying my thoughts a great deal lately. In the end, describing it simply was best.

Before the connectivity of the modern world, the learned elite gained information in isolation, with exacting slowness. What one person learned was very often confined to that one person. Reading something and committing it to memory, or writing it out in a personal reference/index system were ways to gain and retain knowledge. One person could be a deep, thorough expert in their field, calling to mind a host of examples and connections based on personal study and personal experience. Their knowledge was internalized and kept secure with themselves, and they could speak eloquently on their subject by drawing on their own store of expertise.

Now, a new expert is emerging, more along the model of a card catalog. Think of a person who may not be able to speak eloquently on, for example, the various dictates of the Second Lateran Council of 1139, but who has a broad grasp of the movement of history during the 12th century and can easily and quickly locate information about the canon law adopted during the council, articles that interpret particular aspects of that law, and is savvy enough to sort through junk information to find relevant details quickly.

Think of the first as a person who stores information, and the second as a person who stores pathways to information. The second person will be able to move more quickly, access a broader range of subjects, and use the tools of the modern world more effectively.

But the first person is our deep thinker, who can connect all the dots of a problem and can speak with authority. The first person knows the location, hours, and menu of a local Mexican restaurant because they have been there; the second person knows that the restaurant is down the street a ways, and can quickly narrow down to the correct restaurant on his iPhone.

Are we moving toward a culture where we value the latter over the former? Is the latter more uniquely suited to the world today, and the former is a dying breed? Does everyone need a bit of both? Which is the more useful in a museum environment - or do we need both? Are the experts our curators, and the indexes our visitor services managers?

Twas the Night Before Christmas

Just in case you haven't seen this hilarious re-writing from a registrar's perspective, here it is re-posted.

To the Top of the Case, To The Top of the Hall 

Now Pack Away, Box Away, Move Away All! A visit from St. Entropy, who,  like St. Bernard, comes to the rescue of those lost in the drifts. 

 ‘Twas the Night before Christmas, with nothing to prove—We were still reeling from the museum’s big move.There were boxes and boxes of…still more, smaller boxes,Full of papers and pictures and foxes and rockses.Huge jars stuffed with fish and enormous whale testiclesTeeny jars crammed with spiders and vesiclesThe movers had helped out by acting as sorters,Then submitted our names to the film crew of “Hoarders.”Not a creature was stirring—they were packed in too tight,Wrapped in paper and foam and unable to bite.We sat on wood crates and used boxes as tables,And discovered that…somehow…we’d lost all the labels.The boxes stretched out to the vanishing point,But not one helpful word could be found in the joint.Remember the last scene shown in “The Lost Ark?”This was seven times worse—and we sat in the dark.Not a thing had been copied, not a word databased,And our system collapsed due to very cheap paste.Without opening every box that we had,There was no way for us to move into our pad.  This called for a nightcap. Or several. Or many.Any solvents unpacked? Why, you guessed it—not any.So the director (with curses) and curators (with whining)Settled in for a night of unpacking and mining.When all of a sudden I heard such a droneI knew in an instant it must be my phoneI reached in my pocket, turned it on with a snap,And what should appear but the Dear Santa® app!It connected to Google and mapped our location,Then demanded a password for verification.My phone screen showed something all disjunct and frayedLike one of those paintings by Thomas Kinkade™.When, what to my wandering eyes should appear,But a miniature sleigh and eight androideerWith a jolly old driver, so lively and quick,I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.More rapid than banner ads his coursers they came,And he pulled out his Tablet and downloaded their names.“Now Cyber! now Ebook! on Dunder! and Twaddle!We must get there quick, we have no time to dawdle!”And then in a twinkling, as I watched on the screenNick arrived at the door looking fit, lean, and mean.A curator screamed, “My God!  It’s alive!”So I aimed for his head and threw an MRM5.Santa entered the room and got straight to unpackingWith ripping and tearing and general whacking.He filled all the shelves, crammed the drawers, stuffed the cases,Racked up the racks, leaving no empty spaces.In a flash he was finished, and all was unpackedAnd snugly assorted, complete and compact.But nothing made sense, there was no order at all.And what would not fit had been tossed in the hall.“But Santa!” I pleaded, “How will we be ableTo find the collections with nary a label?”Santa smiled like a man who’s pulled off a great featHe tapped on his phone and one box gave a tweet“I’ve equipped each “thing” with its own RFID tagThey’re findable even stuffed deep in my bag.”Sure enough every specimen, each object and box,Now bore that sign of electronic pox.Santa leaped in his sleigh, to his team gave a whistleAnd away they all flew like the down off a thistle.But I heard him exclaim, without missing a beat,“This system will work…until it’s obsolete.”
(Sally Shelton, John Simmons and Elizabeth Merritt always find the holidays a moving experience.)

Museum Offices

I love this old photo gallery from The Washington Post with a peek into the office of a senior curator at the National Gallery of Art. Look familiar to anyone?

150th Anniversary of Fredericksburg

No battle is just one event, or one offensive, so technically the 150th anniversary of the Battle of Fredericksburg has been going on for a few days, and will continue into tomorrow.

But today, this morning, 150 years ago, my many-times-great-grandfather was leading his regiment toward Prospect Hill, where Confederate artillery and infantry were entrenched. They stepped off from Slaughter Pen Farm, marched through fields and across railroad tracks that are still there, and were part of General Meade's brigade, which pierced - for a few brief moments - the Confederate line. Richard Gustin's company, the Troy Guards, the company he raised and was voted captain of at the beginning of the war, suffered 50% casualties in the assault.

Slaughter Pen Farm, where the march began.

Stonewall Jackson's line.

Looking down Prospect Hill; the railroad tracks are about at the tree line.

Good Career Advice

I recently co-hosted a dinner conversation at the NEMA fall conference. 15 or so young or emerging museum professionals, my PAG co-chair Kate McIntosh, and I went out to dinner at the Bluebird Tavern in downtown Burlington, VT.

We had a great and far-ranging conversation about job searching, putting your best foot forward, the tricky nature of mapping a museum career, and had a hilarious and slightly depressing sidetrack into the worst interview questions we'd ever been asked. (The winner: "If you could imagine yourself as any kind of fruit, what would it be?")

One piece of advice I offered that evening, that I believe helped me in my recent job search and has helped me as a professional in general, is to read Ask a Manager. I purchased and read her book on job-searching, and combed through her free ebook on preparing for interviews over a dozen times at least. Her advice is straightforward, practical, and interesting. I like her core emphasis on being the best candidate for a job by being a thorough, competent, accomplished professional, and letting that show through.

I would encourage any professional to read her blog, and if you have a question, to submit it. She's very timely about responding, and the handful of times I have written in I've received excellent advice.

Back on Track

As it turns out, re-arranging everything in your life and moving to another state in the course of three weeks is rather exhausting. I'm settling in to my new job at the Vermont Historical Society, learning the ropes, and figuring out my new life in Vermont. After my first week in my new apartment - in which I did not have heat and several rooms were still under construction - life has settled into a rhythm.

I was lucky enough to attend some parts of the NEMA fall conference, and I have notes from two panels there, and I have been doing some museum reading and thinking in my down time, so I should resume a normal posting schedule here shortly!

Arts Organizations and Community

Somewhat delayed by unexpected events including Sandy, I'll be publishing a series of blog posts inspired by the proceedings at the Salzburg Global Forum, an annual leadership seminar for 50 young nonprofit leaders in the arts organized by National Arts Strategies. Bloggers have been asked to address a series of questions facing the nonprofit arts world similar to those being considered in Salzburg.

Arts Organizations and Community

In a post-recession world, institutions which survive will be those grounded deeply in a sense of community. By community, I mean that linked group of people who establish connections with one another and with others based around an idea or a place.

Communities of ideas can exist the world over, and may never even meet physically. The internet has provided an easy way to replace the physical with the intellectual, and has provided virtual meeting spaces to encouraging the sharing of ideas. Communication has always been at the heart of communities of ideas, and that communication grows faster and more sophisticated every day. “Web 2.0” and “social media” are both buzzwords of this new, more sophisticated linking.

Communities of place are much more traditional, and foster connections by the simple virtue of familiarity breeding not contempt, but mutual reliance and affection. Small towns and neighborhoods are the ultimate example of this type, which fluctuates widely as demographics shift from urban centers to rural areas. “Third places,” such as coffeehouses, bars, and other physical institutions are also a small-scale example.

These communities can co-exist and co-create – those interested in fiber arts might congregate at a yarn store, or those in a neighborhood might form a jogging group. Communities of ideas might create brief, intense communities of place, such as a Renaissance fair or science fiction convention, and communities of place might band together to promote an idea, such as an inner-city neighborhood advocating for music education in its schools.

Museums can and should participate in both types of communities. First, all museums have subject matter expertise and collection items that can speak directly to one or more communities of ideas. Engaging with those communities can activate their passion on behalf of an institution, and they can serve as valuable advocates worldwide, no matter the location of the museum. The key to this type of engagement is consistency and transparency – regular new content accompanied by honest dialogue with those who may be more expert in a subject matter than the museum itself. This type of community engagement is much more familiar to museums, but many have yet to take full advantage of its new digital possibilities

Museums have struggled as members of a community of place. Some have succeeded brilliantly for a time, only to fall behind with a change in leadership or staff. Some have eschewed their physical communities entirely in favor of connecting only with those who have particular interest in their collections. Museums can no longer be the temple on the hill that preaches down to the masses; they must now be equal community members. This requires a great deal of flexibility and understanding, as a museum must participate equally, sometimes allowing its own identity to recede (not disappear!) to allow for another member of its community to take center stage.

Ultimately, when the time comes to prove necessity, a museum that has integrated its planning, programs, and exhibitions fully with both its virtual and physical communities will survive.