One of the most important aspects of a History Museum
exhibit is the exhibit’s labels that inform museum visitors of the significance
of various display cases, objects, and photos. While such a task seems easy and
straight-forward, Beverley Serrell’s text Exhbit
Labels: An Interpretive Approach shows that there is a real art to such a
process. Serrell’s work lays out everything from how to structure the
information on a label to the best types of readable and handicap-accessible
fonts to use in a label. Such information helps museum professionals create an
exhibit – historical or otherwise – that appeals to and engages with people of
a variety of backgrounds and intellectual abilities.
Serrell’s work functions more as a textbook than a singular
piece that uses a historical argument to trudge its readers along. Thus, there
is no one theme, but rather an in-depth look at many aspects of creating a
great exhibit. One aspect of a good exhibit that she touches on that I really
appreciated was the concept of the exhibit’s voice. As Serrell demonstrates, it
is important to consider what types of perspective that labels embody? What
type of person might be speaking through these labels and how might potential
museum-goers respond to such a voice? One way to combat the dangers of a
singular voice or perspective within an exhibit is the concept of sharing
scholarly authority between curators and the public who might eventually frequent
the museum.[1]
I was quite pleased to find Serrell uphold my all-time
favorite history exhibit – The Gallery of California History at the Oakland
Museum of California – as a prime example of shared authority within an
exhibit. In the text, Serrell cites the Oakland Museum’s gallery regarding Californians’
experiences of the 1960s entitled Forces
of Motion as a key example of this. This exhibit asked a handful of
Californians of differing backgrounds who came of age during the 1960s to
create their own displays in a sort of, shoebox diorama fashion that provided a
glimpse into their own personal experiences during the period. The shoeboxes
consist of family photos and empty packs of cigarettes, pins from
California-based political groups as diverse as the John Birth Society and the
Black Panther Party. As Serrell argues, these types of displays enable visitors
and community members to tell their own histories and provide their own voice
to a process that usually revolves around the decisions of curators and institutional
authority.[2]
Additionally, I would add that such an approach personalizes
exhibits not only for those community members involved in the curating process,
but for those visiting the museum as well. I can very clearly remember going to
this exhibit for the first time when the institution opened it five or so years
ago. Having grown up in the area, I knew a few of the people profiled in the Forces of Motion exhibit. I remember
being so excited by that. For example, I remember one the people profiled in
the exhibit to be L. Frank Manriques, an indigenous Californian, lesbian artist
who frequently gave guest lectures in many of my American Indian Studies
classes at San Francisco State. Her display consisted of pictures of her with
past lovers, American Indian Movement patches, and small art pieces. It really
made history seem like something that didn’t just consist of theoretical
arguments or names and dates, but rather something that people I knew actually
experienced. In this sense, the shared authority and personalization of history
that the Oakland Museum’s exhibit labels gave myself and others a way in, an
opportunity to understand the larger trends and happenings of a historical
period. A good history exhibit can really provide such an experience.
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