In politics, the idea of a process story – the inside story about how policy is made – doesn’t always sit well. It’s “too inside baseball.” The focus on what is happening behind the scenes, on the machinations that impact policy outcomes is often perceived to be a distraction from the political outcomes themselves. But I’m a sucker for stories that unpack how something happens rather than simply focussing on the end result or product. I like knowing why particular choices were made and by whom; it helps me understand the flows of power and influence that shape the world.
This emphasis on process instead of only the final product is an idea that I can see in a few different places in our sector too, and I’m really excited by it. Dan Spock recently Tweeted a link to imPERFECT CITY – a fascinating sounding project from Delaware Center for the Contemporary Arts (DCCA), which is “a conversation-based exhibition that evolves from an open call for proposals to conceptualize a utopian city within the DCCA’s gallery spaces.” Although the project has many layers and phases, what I am most interested in is the open processes the project purports to follow, which treats the creation of the exhibition as the exhibition. As the proposal by Maiza Hixson describes, “The exhibition “opens” during the planning phase to allow citizens to interface with DCCA curatorial staff who are present to answer questions visitors may have about curatorial process.” In other words, the exhibition is the process of the exhibition; it is not just the end result. imPERFECT CITY takes its form as a living process story. In addition, the whole project makes use of documentation (blogging, videos) as a means for exploring the issues raised by the exhibition, and creating parallel digital and in-gallery experiences.
I love this. There is something really compelling about the humanness of process that is visible in this kind of approach. The edges of the exhibition become permeable and uncertain; it is impossible to know exactly when it starts or ends. How reminiscent is this of so many digital interactions, which are themselves endless and linked to so many other things? The Internet is perpetually unfinished. It is about process because it is itself a process rather than a product; a constantly-shifting performative environment which demands that those who want use it must interact with it in order to experience it. Unlike most museum exhibits, which have a definite and pre-determined start and end date and typically exist within strictly defined borders, the Internet does not privilege time and space in quite the same way. This gives us a lot of space for publicly exploring and explaining how we do what we do.
Social media and digital publishing platforms open up a lot of potential for institutions that want to create compelling content and stories about their exhibitions that aren’t so strictly bounded by the dates and spaces of the gallery. The Museum of Contemporary Art, Australia has made inroads in this area with their recent ePublication for Anish Kapoor, which was treated as a “living catalogue” and evolved over the course of the exhibition to include a Preview Edition, an Installation Edition, and a Reflection Edition. Rather than creating interpretive content prior to opening and never revisiting it, this catalogue continues to grow during and after the exhibition. The Installation Edition includes information about how one of the sculptures was installed in the space, opening up the mystery of the institution to the public and adding depth to the discussion about the exhibition.
The Dallas Museum of Art’s recently-announced plans for a conservation studio also offer an interesting take upon the emphasis of process in the physical space of the museum, since the studio will effectively turn conservation into an ongoing living exhibition. As Jerome Weeks describes:
[Director Max Anderson is] going to turn conservation into a public exhibit. Other museums hold the occasional tour through their work rooms. But this is different. Consistent with Anderson’s other efforts in making the DMA more accessible online, he will be, more or less, turning this internal museum function inside-out and putting a spotlight on it. Imagine a hedge fund putting the accountants on display.
Wild, right? There is a certain voyeuristic fascination we have with getting behind-the-scenes in someone’s life, in learning what goes on behind the closed doors. Opening up of parts of the institution to public view plays right into these feelings, and develops a very human understanding of what the institution does.
But this approach also shifts the focus away from the objects and exhibitions onto the human forces that impact them. Could this prove to be a distraction? This is how Australia political strategist Mark Textor describes the political process story:
One of the consequences of an increasingly expansive financial and political media field is the need for content to fill it. Some content is important. Most is borderline trivial, certainly irrelevant. But that has never discouraged the commentators. This search for content to feed the hungry commentariat has led to the rise and rise of the ”process story”. The ”process story” is about campaign mechanics, whether it be a political campaign or a big market offer, not about the issues of the campaign.
Could openly documenting the process of creating an exhibition or of an acquisition take the focus away from the exhibition itself? And is a focus on process worth the effort, or does it just promise to add to workloads whilst providing only trivial or irrelevant content? Would museum audiences be interested in gaining insight into what we do and why, or is this just be extra effort for little reward?
What do you think? Do process stories interest you? Could you see this kind of approach working in your institution?
museum geek 
Process stories generally work with an engaged audience — the sort of person that’s already interested in the basic story you have to offer and are tickled by the extra bit of inside knowledge.
Process stories end up being ultimately useful in learning about other projects from a peer to peer perspective since that’s where you learn *how* you might apply the knowledge of someone else and where it might differ from your own experience. It’s the critical bit of discovery that makes it clear why someone has ended up at *this* endpoint rather than another which may seem better or more obvious.
My personal experience was while I was still at the New England Aquarium when we opened up the Aquarium Medical Center in 1997 or so. For the first half of the decade, I’d still been part of the Animal Care Staff (when I was still playing biologist) and we created a 2500 ish square foot exhibit devoted to displaying the workings of the veterinary staff at the aquarium. There were holding tanks, much of the lab equipment that we used, and medical procedures carried out behind glass walls between the staff and the public. On selected occasions there were usually education staff interacting with the public, explaining procedures in progress and there was also a live connection with the staff inside for additional questions and answers when time allowed. All of this was supplemented by a series of interactive displays in front that covered the basics of what was on display — current medical charts for animals, explanations of basic procedures and equipment, and the ongoing schedule of activity.
It was a popular destination and served as the reference model for a handful of similar experiences implemented around the country. It was science, it was real, and it was engaging. The one thing that could become stressful over time was that sense of being constantly on display, but given a few ways to escape from the public and reasonable schedules, it persisted for well over a decade in a prime location.
Bruce, I think you’re absolutely right about process stories appealing to those who are already interested and engaged with the basic story. When I was doing some reading about process stories in the political sphere, one of the criticisms about them was that they were *only* appealing to those who were already interested in politics to begin with. So it’s an opportunity to deepen the engagement for those who want to know more, but might be fairly irrelevant to those who are less interested in delving deeper?
Mia just Tweeted that she thought that the reason “behind the scenes” stuff is popular is more about access and conversation with staff than about process. In your comment you mentioned the importance of the live connection with staff, but also that it was real science made visible. Do you think the process itself was interesting, or the fact that is was kind of a live show?
I think showing the processes of putting together an exhibition, or of conservation, is extremely exciting! However, as mentioned in comments above, that may be because I already have an interest within the gallery as a whole.
(I will preface the following remark by pointing out I’m specifically considering the vis. arts gallery)
However my fear is definitely that it can take away from the exhibition itself. Coming from a Vis. Arts background and with my interest in process-based creation I have definitely been exposed to amazing work that lives as process with very little evidence on completion. Art can get away with that, I think, but in a more traditional gallery context I’d worry that if too much concentration is placed on the act of creation/inception rather than the resulting exhibition then the Museum may be shooting itself in the foot. Producing engaged, excited audiences through an online dialogue that may then expect more from the final exhibition than the gallery can deliver.
Of course that may be the curse of the Web as a whole- audiences want more from the gallery. More interaction, more videos, more Facebook like buttons(?) 😉
Travis, thanks for the comment. It’s useful to hear about your experiences in an art context. Your point that museums might end up “Producing engaged, excited audiences through an online dialogue that may then expect more from the final exhibition than the gallery can deliver” reminds me a lot of an important discussion from 2009 that one of Nina Simon’s posts sparked off on avoiding what she called the participatory ghetto: http://museumtwo.blogspot.com.au/2009/04/avoiding-participatory-ghetto-are.html
Rob Stein’s response, and the discussion that followed, are also useful to read on this issue. http://www.imamuseum.org/blog/2009/07/27/nina-simon-response/
Is it a problem if the online experience is richer than the in-gallery one? It probably is if we still see the in-person experience as being the primary one. But what if the in-person experience isn’t privileged over the digital? Is a mis-match there still a problem?
Suse, funny you should bring up the in-person over the digital museum. I almost mentioned the Gallery of Lost Art (http://galleryoflostart.com/) as a project from a major gallery that is engaging in an interesting way with expectations of both the Web and how a gallery can engage audiences with purely online exhibitions/content. Process as well becomes as part of the Lost Art gallery in that it will itself become ‘lost’ (though we all know nothing is truly ever removed from the Internet…) on a certain date, as well as the early site slowly rolling out the works to encourage the audience to return.
In regards to Nina Simon’s post it’s interesting that issues of relationships between online and real life space is such an ongoing issue, 2009 was a few years ago now! Part of my PhD research has been exploring the links between Internet Art and the physical gallery space; how do you present online works in the gallery? Should you even try? There’s been a few recent exhibitions (Offline Art, curated by Aram Bartholl in particular) that are still wrestling with these questions- whether successful or not at least the attempt is being made (and this creates something interesting to think about at the very least!).
What about you, though? You mentioned imPERFECT CITY at the top of the post, but have you lived through any of these projects before? If so, did you think things worked as intended within that project?
(I have to say, the process of design-by-committee of a city reminds me of the project at the gallery where we had post-AAANZ conference drinks last year where the audience produced cardboard houses to add to a floating city. Too many cooks!)
Travis, I don’t that I’ve lived through anything like imPERFECT CITY; although it appeals on so many levels. A few weeks ago I did go down to Canberra for the National Museum’s “Museum Workshop” exhibition, which moved elements of the conservation studio – including conservators – onto the gallery floor. It was great. I think I lost well over an hour in a single room, and only left when an errant fire alarm sounded. And I wasn’t the only one. I spent a bit of time people watching whilst in the space, and the audience engagement was significant. People lingered, talking to each other and watching what was happening, talking to the conservators. On Twitter this morning, both Bruce Wyman and Courtney Johnston mentioned the “sincere enthusiasm” that comes across when people talk about things that they’re passionate about, and I’m sure that was a factor. It’s a much warmer approach than the cold exhibit without interaction.
Yes it’s true, behind-the-scenes insights make you feel like you’re a part of a community of knowledge rather than a outsider. For me this sense of belonging makes it easier to feel confident about finding personal connections to ideas and concepts that can be a little alienating otherwise.
We recently created a series of video shorts on the behind-the-scenes of the ‘Francis Bacon: five decades’ exhibition at the Art Gallery of NSW. We hoped to connect our audience to the exhibition by showing the nuts and bolts of how a show like this is born and introduce them to the people we don’t often see, those who get the paintings to Australia and into the Gallery. Our hope was to communicate the importance of the show to an audience largely unfamiliar with the paintings of Francis Bacon and spark an interest in coming to the exhibition. The viewing numbers and feedback about the videos indicate they have been well received by audiences locally and beyond. The nice surprise has been that the staff who shared their part of the exhibition process on video felt good about the results and the wider staff felt pride in seeing the skills and contributions their colleagues had made.
This suite of shorts now have a life beyond the exhibition dates and can be viewed by Francis Bacon fans, museum studies students and whoever else might want to watch and engage. http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL7C591D0C79CA59E9&feature=view_all
Francesca, it’s really lovely to hear about the internal engagement in this example. That idea of professional peer-to-peer contact that Bruce was talking about above comes up here. How much work was involved with the videos? Do you think you’ll take a similar approach with other exhibitions?
I feel like the stars aligned for the Francis Bacon bts videos, lean budgets and limited shooting time meant we didn’t have a large crew or complicated setups. We did a lot of the work in pre-production to make the shoot and edit time more cost/time effective. What makes the films so strong is the passion and generosity that each curator, registrar, designer et al brought to the exhibition, as well as a shared feeling that this was a moment in time that was really worth capturing on film and sharing with a greater audience. I’ve produced more modest videos that felt like alot more work.
To answer your question about whether we’d take a similar approach for the next exhibition? I think we’ll always try to capture some of the process of all the different amazing things that happen in the Gallery, it makes for pretty compelling content for both peers and visitors alike. In fact come to think about it communicating process via our digital channels is an increasingly large part of my job at the Gallery.
We just ended a really wonderful exhibition project in which an artist produced an installation (the largest ever of his career) live in-gallery over three months. I learned several things from the process:
1. There is an audience for process and an audience for product. The show was polarizing – some people walked in and said “awesome!” and some walked in and said “when will it be done?” Visitor confusion was high – especially when the artist was not currently in the gallery working.
2. Artists’ processes might not always be conducive to audience engagement. The artist we were working with loved being in the gallery with a few visitors, but not with so many that it felt like a “zoo.” The result was that he was almost never there when most people were–understandable for his process, but frustrating for visitors. Every person is different in this way, but don’t expect an artist to behave in a particular way with visitors without frank discussions about individual needs and expectations beforehand.
3. You need a really good marketing strategy to actually see the results of people coming back again and again to see things change. We didn’t have that. While a small number of people really got into the project and returned repeatedly, we didn’t develop enough of a “story” of the project’s evolution to clearly communicate it. Also, the work itself ebbs and flows–sometimes the artist is cranking, other times, considering, and the difference in what people see on a weekly basis is very dependent on what phase he/she is in.
Nina, thanks for this comment. When I read your early post about this exhibition – before it began – I was very interested in it, so it’s great to get this kind of feedback about what worked and what didn’t.
Your comment raises an interesting question around the difference between process on display in its kind of raw form – which can be seen in your example and also might appear in the DCCA exhibition and the DMA’s conversation studio – and more formalised or polished process stories (such as the MCA’s ePublication) that document or tell the story of the process, but aren’t necessarily exhibiting the process itself. The former is probably less predictable and, although it offers the opportunity for truly interesting moments, might be less interesting since it includes the boring moments when an artist etc isn’t in the room or doing anything particularly visual that the audience can connect with. Conversely, the latter can be made to tell something much more recognisable as a story.
Do you think you’d take a similar approach again? And if so, what would you do differently?
To reiterate some of the ideas being formed above within the context of my particular institution, process is underutilized beyond having a gallery window looking into the prep lab. Being an active research facility, the collections and processes occurring behind the ‘scene’ are brilliant and exciting, especially being in the world of Palaeontology. The imagination runs wild when roaming past the crates and sifting (visually) through the drawers full of fossils and bones.
For me, the thing that is ultimately put on display does not evoke the same embodied, visceral state of the imagination that might lead to a more meaningful experience beyond the usual archetypes of the exhibit. A great story came from a group of visitors whom walked through a historic site room under renovation when I was out of the room, but not out of ear shot. Two families, looking at the various flags, maps, journals etc. started talking about what the room might have been all about. I have never seen people so curious, observant and excited to piece together the past without the need of didactics. The only problem, if you want to read it as that, was the story getting a little mixed up compared to our arguably fictional account of historical events. Something that was cleared up with numerous other levels of interpretation to clarify people, places and events.
The process created a great conversation, and I was loathe to finish staging the space. Never mind putting up interpretive panels as in the other rooms where the glassy eyed visitor gaze is all to present. Imagine a gallery space where curated works where always moving through the exhibition during its run, representing new relationships, dialogues and possibilities. Now imagine trying to discuss the same show, one that is never settled and always in process. I propose this idea is more exciting than exhibitions opening one two one two through the year as finished places that are representing open spaces for thought and meaning.
This great talk from Marianne Fokkens, Naturalis, The Netherlands at Museums and the Web 2013 on Live Science is awesome in context of this discussion.
Love this approach!