When we enter a museum, there is often an expectation that there will be a display of objects. That is, there is an expectation that one will be dazzled and enraptured by a set of ancient porcelain, a uniquely decorated mask, or even a guitar. There is a certain visual aspect that is undeniably connected with the concept of a museum. This does not only apply to the objects inside, but also to the physical space, from the external architectural appeal, as much as the interior. There is a presence of aesthetic consideration that at once expresses an appeal to the senses, as well as invites exploration of the form.
Museums, regardless of their function or type, have become boxes of treasure that rely heavily on aesthetic appeal to advance their institutional purpose. As they shift from being showcases of their collections to collections of showcases, the role of objects has been recast. While they nonetheless still exist, they are fewer, and their importance often less emphasized, with their educational purpose morphed into a more therapeutic or entertaining curriculum. An appeal is made through pathos, while the ethos becomes more latent and obscure.
While museums continue to be collectors, and academics continue to appreciate the significance of the repositories of items that they have amassed, the transition towards less objects on display and more interactive exhibits demonstrates an evolution in their materialistic nature. The notion of what is material is traditionally intertwined with the idea of physical matter. There is a relation to the surface and the objects that exist within this space. However, materialism has increasingly expanded to include such abstractions as the “aura” that Walter Benjamin describes as embodying the essence of an object.
While Kant would continue to focus on the formal qualities, Kosuth would argue that the definition of art relies on the art idea, or the concept that it represents. Though there is a range of museums, from cultural to natural history, and not simply art, nonetheless, there is ostensibly a connection to the ideal of elevating the institutional mission to a display of concepts, rather than objects. The emphasis becomes less focused on the significance of an individual object, but centered on the significance of the sentiment that it represents. Danto would place these objects within their own narratives, that feed into the grand narrative of our world. There is a weaving and continuation of context, and the role of museums is to convey the relationship of these past narratives with the present, and how they have informed the paths between them.
Looking through the special collection for George P. Johnson, I felt significance of his role in the race films of the 1920s, scrutinizing objects from encyclopedias, to contracts and correspondences. However, I simultaneously realized the fragility of the very objects in the collection. They were worn, tattered, yellowed. I also acknowledged that the interaction with the objects in itself would be different from the average experience of visitors to an exhibit. They would only be able to view the documents, but that additional sense of touch would likely not be in play. As simply spectators, visitors need to to be enthralled by more than an object, but an exhibition within an exhibition. Greater avenues for engagement with the ideas that guide them from the objects to their narratives are required to gain their attention and align their understanding.
Many exhibits put on display not the originals, but replicas. Does this detract from the historical or aesthetic qualities of an object? Does it matter if it is natural or man-made? As long as it is able to properly communicate the desired concept, is it important to have the originals on display? The Smithsonian’s gallery of 3D scans exemplifies the possibility for movement from the material, in the physical sense, to the conceptual space. Additionally, the scans allow for the observation of details that may be hidden or obscured, based on the placement and angle of the objects within their physical domains. So are objects, in material form proper, still required?
I found it interesting how you discussed the trade offs between museums having many or few objects and the shift toward more interactive and experiential exhibits. Of course there is less information when there are fewer objects on display, but perhaps the objects have more of an impact and are perceived as more important when they are part of a limited few. I know that I personally really value a well-told narrative style collection, which are always more memorable for me. It seems like museums used to serve more as archival institutions, whereas now they are more visitor-centric. That being said, boing able to physically handle the Johnson collection archives, which visitors to a museum would never be able to touch, was certainly a more impactful experience.
I love the powerful question you ended with: “So are objects, in material form proper, still required?” I found myself pondering for a long while after reading your post. As I thought, I remembered an instance where a replica did spur immense emotion within me. At the Science Center here in Los Angeles, I toured the visiting exhibit from and about Pompeii. There they featured replica casts of the people whom were buried under the ash, leaving behind perfectly preserved silhouettes within the hardened ash. Capturing the last moment of their lives, the casts were powerful. So, even though I knew they were just replicas, the form and history behind the pieces remained awe-inspiring. Further, perhaps the original physical objects may not always be needed to create a powerful experience?