In Special Collections, my group examined a unique exhibit titled “Miscellaneous” that was comprised of photos of different people, families, scenes, as well as postcards of famous individuals, and letters. While flipping through this collection, we were confused at first because most of these pieces had little to no details on years, dates, or names. I found myself asking these questions several questions repeatedly, such as, “why did the photographer take a photo of this scene?” and “what is the story behind this piece?”. Although these questions were left unanswered, I still found this experience valuable because I got a real glimpse into the world during Johnson’s life–I saw scenes of what the streets looked like, the kinds of vehicles people drove, and how they dressed. From actually visualizing important individuals and places in Johnson’s life, I gained an overall clearer picture of the context and environment of Johnson’s life story.
This process of interpreting real photos and reading letters to and from Johnson was more constructive than just reading this script from his interview. After reading Steven Conn’s piece on “Do Museums Still Need Objects”, I strongly agreed with his statement that “[objects] offer people the simple pleasure of looking at and the thrill of being in the presence of real things.” This remark hones in on this idea that people like objects in museums because they enjoy the feeling of having real, tangible objects to see, interpret, and react to. This is the exact experience I had when I looked through the exhibition–touching and seeing these pictures, postcards, and letters captured my interest and let my mind freely interpret in different ways. Having “real things” stimulated discussion among the group and allowed us to share and experience Johnson’s world together.
In terms of materiality, the photos, postcards, and letters were materials of the exhibition. They were physical items but when examined carefully were full of content and value because of that materiality and meaning. In this regard, I resonated well with Hengel’s idea of materiality and this distinction between the physical object and the “mind” or content of it. While working with the exhibit, I definitely saw how these ideas of physicality and content worked in conjunction with one another to create meaning and value for the viewer, myself. Thus, handling these physical objects created a more intimate Special Collections experience and allowed me to develop a vivid understanding of Johnson’s life.
Wow, what a truly stunning experience it must have been to go through such intimate pieces of the collection! The postcards and letters sound particularly interesting, as they bring a uniquely first-person perspective into play. I was especially intrigued by what you gathered from looking at these pieces– while your questions were left unanswered, I believe you are right in that these pieces give short but meaningful glimpses of Johnson’s life and environment. In this way, perhaps the personal aspect of these pieces provide a passageway for viewers to empathize better with Johnson in the subjectivity of his experiences.
About fifteen years ago I was going through boxes at a sidewalk sale in San Francisco when I came across a collection of photo albums from the early part of the 20th century. There were five in total. I didn’t have a lot of cash on my so I bought two of them for about a dollar-fifty and took them home. One of them is a collection of photographs taken by a missionary couple who worked in Egypt in the 1920s, 30s and 40s that detail their lives, homes, students and locals. I realized too late that I should have bought all five. The book smells faintly of pipe tobacco when you open it and photographs are lovingly placed inside to tell the story of this family and their life. A few spots are empty where the attached photograph fell out. The materiality of the object itself draws me in as much as the subject material. I began a personal mission to return the book to the descendants of the woman who compiled it, realizing at one point that I very well may have purchased it from one of those people. I also believed that somewhere in the world were a set of descendants who would be overjoyed to have it. I have been searching for them for 10 years so far, someday I will figure it out. In the meantime the book and its content represent a sacred space by virtue of their materiality and the space that these memories occupy in my home. Photographs in particular serve as windows into frozen moments, making memories material. Being able to touch, smell, carry, regard and preserve this collection offers a window into the life of a stranger across an 80 year timespan.