Editorial committee: Dorota Folga-Januszewska, Paweł Jaskanis, Piotr Majewski, Tomasz Makowski, Stanisław Waltoś

Translation: Joanna Figiel

Warsaw, 2019

Proceedings of the 2nd international seminar in a series “Planning an Extended Museum:
Museums and Identities”, held at Wilanów, Warsaw, 21–23 November 2018

Seminar organized by the Museum of King Jan III’s Palace at Wilanów, ICOM Austria, ICOM Czech Republic, ICOM Poland, ICOM Slovakia and co-financed by the Ministry of Culture and National Heritage of the Republic of Poland

© Copyright by Museum of King Jan III’s Palace at Wilanów, Warsaw, 2019
© Copyright by National Museum in Kielce, Warsaw, 2019
© Copyright by MOCAK Museum of Contemporary Art in Krakow, Warsaw, 2019
© Copyright by Cracow Saltworks Museum Wieliczka, Warsaw, 2019

ISBN: 978-83-66104-28-0

Proofreading and copyediting: Grażyna Waluga

Design: Grafixpol

The book is the result of cooperation between the Museum of King Jan III’s Palace at Wilanów, the National Museum in Kielce, MOCAK Museum of Contemporary Art in Krakow, and the Cracow Saltworks Museum Wieliczka.

Publication under the auspices of ICOM Austria, ICOM Czech Republic, ICOM Poland, ICOM Slovakia

The book is supported by the ICOM Special Project Grant
www.icom.museum

Konwersja: eLitera s.c.

“Museums and Identities” Seminar

21 – 23 November 2018

PROGRAMME

WEDNESDAY, 21 NOVEMBER 2018

9:00 – 10:00

REGISTRATION

10:00 – 13:30

Opening of the Seminar: Museums Facing Identities – introduction

1. Paweł Jaskanis, Museum of King Jan III’s Palace at Wilanów

2. Dorota Folga-Januszewska, ICOM Poland; Elke Kellner, ICOM Austria

3. Martina Lehmannova, ICOM Czech Republic

4. Jasna Gaburová, ICOM Slovakia

5. Jarosław Sellin, Secretary of State, The Ministry of Culture and National Heritage (Poland)

6. Zdeněk Novák, Secretary of State, The Ministry of Culture (Czech Republic)

7. Luis Raposo, ICOM Europe

8. Suay Aksoy, ICOM (Suay Aksoy’s letter will be read by Dorota Folga-Januszewska)

9. Constanze Itzel, House of European History

10. Christopher Whitehead, Newcastle University

14:30 – 16:30

Session 1: Perspectives: Different Identities and Missions of Museums
Chairman: Elke Kellner, ICOM Austria

1. Lisa Moran, Inheritance and Transformation and the Irish Museum of Modern Art

2. Rebecca Pollack, Framing Holocaust Narratives in Britain: The Holocaust Exhibition at the Imperial War Museum

3. Silva Colombo, “Spontaneous Museums” in Northern Sweden: Cultural Narratives within Norrbotten

4. Michał Malinowski, A Little Match to Ignite a Big Fire

5. Maria Anna Potocka, Museum in Context

6. Jonathan Zisook, Towards a Sociological Analysis of the “Synagogue Museum” in Contemporary Poland

18:00 – 18:30

Session 2: Neighbors: Impact of Museums on Cultural Landscapes and Social Networks
Chairman: Jasna Gaburová, ICOM Slovakia

1. Celine Wawruschka, From the Collector’s Passion to the Invention of Tradition: the Scientific Network of Municipal Museums in Lower Austria in the Long Nineteenth Century

THURSDAY, 22 NOVEMBER 2018

10:00 – 12:00

Session 3: Politics: Museums in Historical and Contemporary Context
Chairman: Dušan Buran, ICOM Slovakia

1. Guido Morpurgo, A Tale of Two Cities. Designing an Extended Museum of the Present with the Former Warsaw Ghetto Fragments: the Waliców Project

2. Jacoline Buirma, Dealing with the Colonial Past: a Visitor’s Perspective

3. Markéta Jonášová, “The Second Centre Pompidou”: Display of the Modern and Contemporary Art Collection at the Czech National Gallery in the 1990s

4. Meltem Yaşdağ, The Reconstruction of a Cultural Landscape by Emigrant’s Identity: Population Exchange Museums in Turkey

13:30 – 15:30

Session 4: Nature: Environmental Impact of Museums
Chairman: Martina Lehmannová, ICOM Czech Republic

1. Zbigniew Myczkowski, Royal Gardens in Wilanów – the Pearl in Local Landscape and the Nest of Place Identity

2. Zdeněk Novák, Landscape for Breeding and Training of Ceremonial Carriage Horses at Kladruby nad Labem in Czechia

3. Milan Jan Půček, Naďa Machkova Prajzova, Antonín Šimčik, Agriculture: Rediscovered Identity in the Context of a Changing World

4. Julien Bastoen, Museums, Urban Regeneration and Environmental Awareness. The Luxembourg Museum’s Reconstruction Issue in Turn-of-the-Century Paris

16:00 – 18:00

Session 5: Economy: Impact of Museums on Local Development & Financial Sustainability
Chairman: Lubomír Anděl, ICOM Czech Republic

1. Dorota Folga-Januszewska, Identity Builds Development. How Museums Stimulate Regional Changes

2. Robert Kotowski, Museum as a Platform for Personal Development

3. Beata Nessel-Łukasik, Robert Supeł, Through the Doorstep. Museum in Relation to Its Milieu

4. Jindřich Ondruš, Museum/Landscape/People – Identity ;and Its Stakeholders

FRIDAY, 23 NOVEMBER 2018

10:00 – 12:30

Session 6: European Union: Impact of Museums on European Identity
Chairman: Dorota Folga-Januszewska, ICOM Poland

1. Cristina Da Milano, Museums and Social Landscapes

2. Michalina Petelska, The Role of Emigration and Immigration Museums in Strengthening and Shaping Migrant’s Identity

3. Katharina Küster, “Is the Museum a Battlefield?” Museum Occupations: Between Resistance and Complicity

4. Paweł Kowal, Polish Discussions about the House of European History as a Register of Discrepancies in the Process of Shaping European Identity

14:00 – 15:30

Final session & discussion

1. Jan Godłowski, Cracow Saltworks Museum Wieliczka as an Active Player in Building the Mining Heritage Community

2. Discussion, conclusion of the seminar

I

INTRODUCTION

Museums and Identities

The 2nd International Seminar in a Series

“Planning an Extended Museum”

Organized by Museum of King Jan III’s Palace at Wilanów, ICOM Austria, ICOM Czech Republic, COM Poland, and ICOM Slovakia

The seminar was held on 21–23 November 2018 in the Museum of King Jan III’s Palace at Wilanów, Warsaw, Poland.

“Museums and landscapes are an essential element of humanity’s physical, natural, social and symbolic environment.” Based on the first sentence of the ICOM Resolution of the 24th ICOM General Conference held in Milano in 2016: “The Responsibility of Museums Towards Landscape”, we want to continue the discussion initiated during the First Seminar in 2017 about the impact of museums and how they react to the surrounding landscape, urban or rural. What particular responsibility for protecting this natural heritage and for promoting sustainable development do museums have?

The term ‘landscape’, however, also implies other perspectives: How do museums influence the cultural, social, economic, and political identity of the place and society they are situated in? They choose what objects are collected, presented and protected, what stories are told and in what way. They define what is handed on to future generations. “With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility”, to quote Winston Churchill, Theodore Roosevelt and Spider-Man. Therefore, we want to question the role of governmental authorities or financial sponsors and see how they may influence the presentation or content of exhibitions. How do museums react to financial dependencies or state-ideologies?

ICOM PRESIDENT’S LETTER TO
THE “MUSEUMS AND IDENTITIES” SEMINAR

21–23 November 2018, Wilanów

Dear Colleagues,

I am delighted to be able to join you here today, albeit via a letter. I thank Dorota Folga-Januszewska and the organisers for this invitation and opportunity, and congratulate them for putting together such a stimulating conference.

Museums are considered among the most trusted and revered institutions in the world. We are known for delivering non-biased information through our exhibitions and learning programmes. Yet, do we provide multiple perspectives on the past and on present developments? Whose stories do we tell? Do we build platforms/forums that invite people to tell and hear these stories, to discuss and get motivated to collaborate for a better tomorrow?

Museums, through numerous stories, can assist – locally or globally – in bridging societies divided by social fault lines and in creating harmony. They collaborate and contribute to the democratisation of society. Of course, it is neither simple nor easy, although I’d much like it to be, thinking of the geography I come from. There are histories for identities that are neglected or overlooked in museums because of political circumstances or non-official histories. The dominant discourse can exclude groups on a national scale or an international/supranational scale, as for example the position of ‘Others’ within European identities and heritages and exclusion of some minorities from a stronger inclusion into European society. The past can be quite effective in creating a sense of belonging or non-belonging within smaller communities or within countries. This is, as well, a matter of cultural policy, domestic and/or international.

The past cannot be changed but it can be faced and righted, rectified and repaired. In 2017, the International Council of Museums ICOM had as its International Museum Day theme “Museums and contested histories: Saying the unspeakable in museums.” This was an occasion for museum professionals to focus on darker pages of the past and the present, on discussing post-trauma action in societies and reconciliation but also on inquiring if action could be taken while undesired acts are in the making this very day or even before they started. So, I ask myself and I ask you: do museums get a better opportunity than this to establish international collaborations, bring such diverse and plural communities together and look for shared solutions.

I wish you a very enjoyable and fruitful conference and a lot of networking.

Suay Aksoy

Jarosław Sellin

Secretary of State

The Ministry of Culture

And National Heritage, Poland

The participants of the International Seminar

Museum and Identity

Museum of King Jan III’s Palace at Wilanów

Warsaw, 21 November 2018

Ladies and gentlemen,

First, I would like to extend a warm welcome to all the participants of the seminar inaugurated today, and especially to our distinguished guests from abroad.

I have carefully studied the programme of the international seminar organised by the Museum of King Jan III’s Palace at Wilanów entitled “Museum and Identity”, taking place as part of the “Planning Extended Museums” series. The issues that you will be dealing with during this event are extremely important for the best possible preservation and transfer to future generations of those elements of material and immaterial reality that, until recently, were regarded as secondary to the necessary urban development and technological progress. Contemporary problems regarding the immediate environment of museums are perfectly illustrated by the example of the Museum in which we now find ourselves, and its vicinity that has dramatically evolved over the last dozen or so years.

One pressing concern is that the progressing urbanisation, a response to the ever-growing housing needs, does not take into account issues related to the protection of culturally significant areas – in the same way in which it disregards environmental values. Disregarding the functions of areas directly associated with historical palaces or castle complexes and assigning contemporary utilitarian functions to those areas makes it impossible for a museum to fully convey its value in the visual sphere – which is, after all, crucial for its audience. Such problems, as well as others arising from the development or modernisation of transport infrastructure, are common to many European museums. Finding adequate solutions is never easy and often requires an understanding – at the official level – of numerous imponderables that often, and unfortunately, do not fit into typical administrative schemes. Because of this, I believe that today’s seminar is all the more important and should indicate the course of action that museums should take in order to protect the material landscape as well as the immaterial historical and cultural heritage that lies beyond their walls.

I would like to thank the Museum’s Director, Paweł Jaskanis, all those who contributed to the organization of this meeting, and especially the members of the International Council of Museums, which, alongside the Minister of Culture and National Heritage of Poland, has provided financial support for this event.

Wishing you fruitful debates, I declare that any activities undertaken by museums to preserve landscape elements important for history, tradition or culture, in or outside of their immediate vicinity, will be supported by the Minister of Culture and National Heritage of the Republic of Poland.

II

ORGANIZERS’
INTRODUCTION

Dorota Folga-Januszewska

Deputy Director of the Museum of King Jan III’ Palace at Wilanów

IDENTITY BUILDS DEVELOPMENT. HOW MUSEUMS STIMULATE REGIONAL CHANGES

Identity is fought for, identity is built, identity is a condition of consciousness (and vice versa). These three approaches to the concept of identity – seemingly obvious in the context of the long history of museums – take on a somewhat different meaning. Identity is a concept that on the one hand shapes the recognition of one’s place and point of view in the world, and on the other, one’s relation to other people, traditions, and culture. In the face of rapid technological changes (artificial intelligence, avatarization), the concept of identity extends to the areas once reserved for mathematics,[1] and requires persistent modification, i.e. a constant redefinition. If we add to this the question of what constitutes the contemporary development of humanity, we get the image of the role played by cultural institutions – including museums – in complex transformations that combine a pro-development attitude with a broad understanding of the functioning of cultural values and a narrative of identity. The result can be the wellbeing of individuals, social groups, and entire regional and national systems. However, it may also be a cultural conflict and this is probably why the question of identity in relation to the museum activities is so significant.

Identity and narrative

The last decades of museum development have brought back interest in intangible heritage and narration as a deliberately directed and constructed form of storytelling used in museums. Published in March 2019, the Museum and Change. The Fate of Narrative Museums[2] presents various views on the understanding and use of narration in the practice of organising exhibitions and establishing new museum institutions.

From this point of view, identity is the source of narration. Without it, it would be difficult to identify the museum’s mission. Scholars of this issue, however, often draw attention to the fact that persistent search for and description of identity can be an indication of a crisis, a response to negative changes and the search for a new path.[3] In other words – the search for identity heralds change.

In relation to the identities of museums, this question is interesting and complex. According to various contemporary definitions,[4] the museum can be understood both as a public institution operating on the basis of statutory laws, and as a certain avatar of such an institution – an immaterial museum that provides complex, multi-image and multi-tone narratives via its digital existence.

Therefore, the identity of a museum has several dimensions:

– Individual – resulting from its own history and founding act, often a gesture of a person or persons with specific tastes. In such a case, the museum identity is directly related to the origins of its collections: it can continue its founder’s idea or focus on the specificity of the collection and mission (e.g. technical or medical museums). Often, this ‘individuality’ is outlined broadly, as in the case of religious museums, church museums or museums created on the basis of historical narration (a certain event is reflected in the museum’s mission).

– Social – a museum operating within particular surroundings is gradually transformed by the environment for which it operates. Contemporary museology sees the deep sense of museum existence as an inspiration for a particular community, but simultaneously recognises that every museum is shaped, changed and ‘adapted’ to local needs by this community. This is a two-way process: the museum ‘speaks’ and ‘listens’, the visitors watch and ‘broadcast’. This is how an educational path gradually develops, taking into account not only the objective values of ‘objects’ but also, and above all, the values of processes.

– Regional – the social dimension shapes what can be termed as the specificity or regional conditions of the museum: different language and culture, traditions in interpersonal relations, forms of display, dominant motifs. In some cases, the regional dimension is considered to be the main identity of the museum. The museum is established in order to preserve this regional dimension. Nowadays, increasing importance is also attached to the natural environment – i.e. nature, seen as the source of regional differences.

– Economic (developmental) – another dimension of the museum’s identity that should not be overlooked is economic awareness. Sometimes built upon the basis of valuables in the museum’s possession such as items in its collection but above all on the understanding of the process of investing those values in stimulating development. In this case, the economic dimension of identity means that both the museum’s managers and employees understand that they work with values of different nature: they build a brand, manage processes, participate in the cultural market, produce knowledge of a specific value and specific application. The museum’s economic identity influences its setting – it stimulates cultural industries, tourism, trade, transport, and investments in its environs.[5] A good example is the increase in property value in the vicinity of well-functioning cultural institutions – popular places to spend free time.

Such an approach to the identity of a museum makes it easier to plan actions and development; cultural, investment, and economic interactions with close (the region) and more remote environments (tourism, industry specialisations, education). This encourages a growth the energy and character of which should be directly influenced by the museum.

Another important task of the museum is to mediate between past and acknowledged values and new experiences, or even experiments. All four dimensions of the museum’s identity determine its quality as the ‘meeting point’ within the area in question. In her Mediation Manual published in 2017, Alexia Georgakopolous describes the relationship between self-esteem and conflict forecasts.[6] In this relationship, identity is the key, and the museum – the mediator.

Identity and mediation

Until recently, it was believed that one of the most important tasks of museums is a specific form of education the essence of which is not to provide particular information but to develop observation and listening skills as a method of gaining knowledge and practical experience. Such a stance of ‘combined attitudes’ and often combined (apparent) opposites can only be achieved via certain deep-rootedness in culture, the understanding of tradition and the ability to ‘read history’ that serve to create a blueprint for the future. In this sense, the museum mediates between the past and the future, using different fields of knowledge and social practices.

We can then ask whether the contemporary museum can be understood as a path towards the future? It is difficult to give a simple answer because there are many kinds of museum institutions. One thing is certain, however, that in any region or field the museum can be the space of therapy or a means of preventing pathologies, and it can ‘generate social change’. At the end of the second decade of the twenty-first century, the question ‘What would happen if museums saw the essence of their existence as “exclusively” the creation of relations?’ is asked more and more often.[7] Would it also result in extremely different relations: social, intercultural, post-conflict ones, but also these that build interdisciplinarity of sciences, and multiculturalism, relations between the world of values and the world of commerce? The authors of the book devoted to this process, published under the highly ambiguous title The Constituent Museum, pay particular attention to four concepts: reciprocity, activisation, structure (of relations) and negotiation.[8]

Each of these concepts has its own tradition, its tools, and theories built up over the years. The burning question is then how to find new ways to combine knowledge, economic experience and social practices into a museum entity? Theory may be beautiful and sophisticated but everything depends on the culture of its implementation, the essence of which lies in mediation skills and professional delivery of all museum activities: exhibitions, workshops, publications, and meetings with the knowledge that mediation requires lifelong education and careful observation of the world.[9]

New identity – practice

Universally known examples of the transformation of the town-region and model for shaping a new type of relationship between museum activity and its surroundings are the histories of two profound transformations: the construction of the Guggenheim Museum at Bilbao, the Basque Country, Spain, and the gradual construction of the Tate Modern Gallery, located in the former Bankside Power Station, in the Bankside area of the London Borough of Southwark. From today’s perspective, it is equally valuable to learn about the driving forces of these transformations, and to reflect on the comments of the artists and producers of those activities. ‘The Bilbao effect’ has already entered language as a metaphor for deep grassroots change. A port city in northern Spain, plagued by conflicts, unemployment, and acts of terror, witnessed the collapse of the shipbuilding industry in the 1980s. Between 1936 and 1937 it was the capital of the short-lived Basque Republic bloodily and ruthlessly pacified by General Franco’s army. This act of state violence remains deeply rooted in the memory of the city’s inhabitants, although as an international seaport the city has developed steadily until the 1970s. On 26 August 1983, during the local Aste Nagusia celebrations, a violent flood hit the region. Within 24 hours, 600 litres of water per square metre fell and the water level rose by 5 metres. The city and the port were destroyed, and it soon became clear that there were no funds for their reconstruction. This brought an end to the shipbuilding industry in the agglomeration of Bilbao, and a beginning to the initiative of the regional authorities to experiment with investments (Guggenheim Foundation) to stimulate the development of the city in an entirely different way.[10] The history of Bilbao’s transformation is well described – nowadays, a classic study of a change of approach to cultural institutions as the architects of change.[11]

The second great experiment was carried out in entirely different circumstances, ranking the museum high among the factors altering their environment. This is the story of the declining industrial complexes in the Bankside area of London Borough of Southwark, and the idea of the Tate Modern project brought forward in the 1990s. During the conference entitled ‘Museum Economy’ organized in 2010 at the Cardinal Stefan Wyszyński University in Warsaw and Wilanów Palace Museum, Donald Hyslop – the co-creator of Tate Modern’s success – talked about the four main forces that “build the foundation for our future growth and development”.[12] First was the collection, the second – attractive exhibitions, and the third – the architecture of the building converted from a former power plant. Hyslop emphasised the fourth factor of success which was “to include the Tate Modern project in the strategy for social change and social development aimed at promoting culture and regenerating the urban fabric”.[13] He paid particular attention to the fact that “such a social model had to be based on specific knowledge and include answers to the following questions”:

– How to balance, in a developing area, the needs of permanent residents, employees, and tourists.

– How cultural organisations and business entities can work together and how culture can become attractive for business.

– How to build and create political support and commitment to defend such activities.

– How to lead towards genuine, authentic development of local, national, and international organisations that would operate not only within each of these structures but also build their collaboration and create links between them.

– How to create opportunities in which artists and other creative forces and ideas would operate not only within cultural institutions but also in places and spaces of everyday life.[14]

The ‘Bilbao-Tate’ models, although implemented in different economic and social situations, had common goals that were food for thought in many centres around the world. Their most important feature was the suggestion that the development of a given area can be driven by ‘art and culture’ – the areas of human activity that for many decades were treated – both in regional and state policies – as areas requiring subsidies and were not analysed from the economic point of view. The emergence, in the 1980s, of the ‘economy of culture’ field was already a certain signal of a change in the approach among economists themselves. However, they mostly focused on the development of the so-called cultural industries, manufacturing various ‘products’ (recordings, prints, souvenirs) rather than on long-term economic stimulus leading to a change in the living situation in specific regions, cities, or areas. It is therefore not so much the cultural ‘product’ itself but the context of its creation and the new network of knowledge which is important, the practices, services, education, and entertainment built in this context that, taken as a whole, can change the material conditions and interpersonal relations in the examined locations.

Of particular interest were conclusions drawn from the observation of the re-construction of areas which in the process of technological and social changes collapsed as (post)industrial areas and were reborn as new social and cultural centres. These processes coincided in time (which, of course, certainly was not a coincidence) with the so-called global museum boom. And this ‘coincidence’ was important because museums provided another crucial factor for the success of new investments in this model of cultural investment – it grounded activities on creating a sense of identity. It was a therapeutic combination of the awareness that the collapse of past income structures (mining, metal industries, shipyards) in a region, including the disintegration of spatial and social forms, could initiate the idea of recreating prosperity via culture, resulting not only in prosperity, but also, perhaps, in the restoration of causal emotionality – a motivation to build a ‘new tomorrow’. Cultural values, which had slowly become an ‘income’, exposed a wide range of influences: they integrated tradition, sentiments, ideas for recreating nature devastated by industry, and simultaneously assumed the active participation of the local community in these processes. It is precisely this human factor – connections, an exchange of experiences, the convergences of differences – that has been appreciated as the stimulant of development rather than a hindrance. In this light, the turn of the twenty-first century appears as a change in attitudes, a departure from submission to globalisation towards the individualisation of local areas.

In Poland, such processes of ‘identity therapy’ can be examined via several interesting examples. Museums played an important role in the reconstruction of regional values. Interestingly, the examples discussed below have certain similarities: location in the “border-regions” where the problem of identity is influenced by changes in different countries, strong sense of individuality, and location at the point of juncture of different cultures.

The Silesian Museum in Katowice – opened in 2015 in its new premises, it is one of those interesting examples whose analysis requires the concept of identity. The concept and then the establishment of a new Silesian Museum in Katowice was initiated and carried out by Dr. Michał Grażyński, Silesian Voivode (1927–1939), and art historian Dr. Tadeusz Dobrowolski.[15] In order to create a museum in the region of Upper Silesia, the Society of Museum of Silesian Land was established in Katowice in 1924. We should remember the circumstances that preceded this event – the three Silesian Uprisings between 1919–1921 and the plebiscite of 1920 inscribed in the Versailles Peace Treaty ending the First World War, as a result of which, among others, Katowice found itself within the territory of the Republic of Poland.[16] In Katowice, the Silesian Parliament was formed with the first parliamentary elections in 1922, and the Parliament itself became the coordinator of the first Polish museum. In 1928, the Provincial Council applied to the Silesian Parliament for the establishment of this institution by a Parliamentary Act, adopted on 23 January 1929. At the time, natural science, ethnographic, and artistic collections, gathered between 1927–1929, already existed. The museum quickly expanded its collections. Its activity was accompanied by many comments and press articles; their full documentation was gathered and edited by Edward Długajczyk,[17] and the history of the construction of a new building to the design of the outstanding architect Karol Schayer (1900–1971)[18] was described by Lech Szaraniec.[19] The National Digital Archives in Warsaw has photographs and fascinating iconographic material documenting the construction of the museum. It was undoubtedly one of the most modern museum buildings in Europe at that time, erected for the sum of over 5 million Polish zlotys at the expense of the autonomous Silesian Voivodeship.

After the entry of the Nazi army in 1939, the Silesian Museum in Katowice – considered a monument of Polishness – was dismantled, with a considerable effort and resources – by the German administration in 1940. The collection was confiscated and transported to the Upper Silesian Museum at Bytom in 1939. Almost immediately after Polish authorities took over the administration from the military board of the Soviet authorities in March 1945, the idea of rebuilding and reconstructing the collections of the Silesian Museum in Katowice was born. Between 1945 and 1949, this initiative was revived a number of times. Provincial Conservator, Dr. Józef Kluss addressed regular letters to the General Directorate for Museums and Protection of Monuments in Warsaw, pointing out that: “the idea of creating a central district museum in Katowice with subordinate museums at Bytom, Chorzów, Gliwice, and Zabrze comes to mind”.[20] Even when, “for financial reasons”, Kluss received a refusal from the Ministry of Culture and Art in Warsaw in 1948,[21] the idea of rebuilding and reactivating the Katowice museum was repeatedly revived.

Another effective initiative was revived during the times of ‘Solidarity’ in Silesia (1980–1981) and resulted in the restoration of the Silesian Museum in Katowice in 1984. Located in the former Grand Hotel tenement house transferred to the museum (since 1922, it served as an office building). After 1984, the Katowice Museum also regained part of its former collection from Bytom (800 objects from the Art Department, among others), and began intensive activity with its peak in 2005 when it took the initiative to build a new seat and signed the founding act of the Silesian Museum in Katowice to be located in the former post-industrial buildings of the ‘Katowice’ Coal Mine. The Austrian, Graz-based studio Riegler Riewe Architekten’s competition winning design was implemented with European funds (granted in 2011). Together with the surrounding area, the building was included in the so-called Culture Zone. Its institutions include the so-called ‘Spodek’ – a sports and entertainment hall, the Concert Hall of the National Polish Radio Symphony Orchestra and the Congress Centre with a roof turned into a green area were also built in the vicinity of the museum.

It is worth noting that even before the museum was erected and made open to the public, the halls and spaces of the former Katowice mine, unexploited since the 1980s, began to adapt to the activities of various cultural associations and initiatives. In May 2009, for example, the mine hosted the Long Night of Museums, linked to the International Museum Day. The turn of the second decade of the twenty-first century can be considered the moment of the reconstruction of the identity of this centre. It was also the beginning of a new vision of the future of the region, transforming from the leading industrial centre surrounded by degraded natural areas into a region where cultural investments are treated as stimulators of social and economic development. Change, however, cannot occur without conflicts and differences in vision, and often the calculation of economic profit takes precedence over cultural values such as landscape and heritage conservation.

The newly opened museum is located mostly underground. The planning and opening of the exhibition, including the permanent exhibition devoted to the history of Silesia, triggered a lot of heated discussions in the region and revealed the need, hidden for many years, to talk about the region’s origins, tradition, German and Polish influences, the uniqueness of language and culture, the influence of neighbours and the shaping of a vision of ‘another’ future. As it soon transpired, the museum had to mediate in many such unspoken cases. In 2015, Prof. Ewa Chojecka presented a short account of this process and successfully captured all the tensions and misunderstandings that arise when, years later, it is necessary to rebuild a ‘different’ identity.[22]

On 31 January 2019, the museum was awarded the Gloria Artis Medal for Merit to Culture – undoubtedly an acknowledgement of its mission in the process of building a new kind of identity.

Similar processes have taken place in several other cities in Poland. Gdańsk and Gdynia, located within the so-called Tri-City, have become one such a place of transformation. The European Solidarity Centre in Gdańsk, established in 2007, as well as the Museum of the Second World War, located nearby and opened in 2015, are excellent examples of constructing platforms for debate, mediation and the new role of museums. They were also joined by the Emigration Museum in Gdynia, established in 2012 and opened in 2015, located in the historic building of the Marine Station built in 1933 at the so-called French Quay. All three institutions were established in areas that just two decades ago were functioning as strictly industrial zones: European Solidarity Centre and World War II Museum in the vicinity of the former shipyards, Gdynia museum in the port.

From the very beginning, both Gdańsk museums ‘wrote’ social scenarios with obvious political connotations. The permanent display at the ECS is devoted to the birth, problems, context, and success of the Solidarity movement until 1989. All its educational, mediation and social activities carried out by the management and the team, declare a pro-European, pro-social dialogue. The cultural institution fulfils the role of a museum (collections, safeguarding the heritage of the shipyard and locations related to the Solidarity movement, education, permanent and temporary exhibitions), as well as a space for lifelong education (courses, conferences), it is a publisher and researcher of history, but in the public perception it is primarily a meeting place for meaningful discussions. The identity-building role of this institution was revealed in dramatic circumstances in January 2019, when the coffin containing the body of the President of Gdańsk – Paweł Adamowicz, assassinated during a one-day public fundraiser of the Great Orchestra of Christmas Charity – was laid there so that thousands of Gdańsk residents and visitors could pay their respects and express their protest against hate speech and the atmosphere of hatred besetting many people today.[23] A month later, we could observe another effect of the ECS’s social auto-identification – a cut in funding on the part of the state as the co-organiser of the museum,[24] motivated by a conflict of political identity. However, the action of the Minister of Culture resulted in a rather unexpected reaction – a community driven fundraiser of money for the institution was conducted within a few days, in which over 3 million zlotys missing for the celebration of Solidarity on the occasion of the 30th anniversary of free elections in Poland was collected.

An equally interesting example in the reflection on identity and museums is the fate of the largest historical museum institution in Poland, implemented in the years 2008–2017, established and co-financed by the local government and the state. The city of Gdańsk has donated a plot of land that was once adjacent to the area of the Old Town, called the Old Bucket House at Wałowa Street,[25] with a view of the canals and shipyard. In this historic and traditional part of the city, an angled building was erected, emerging from a deep dry trench, giving the impression of a leaning or even sloping structure. Most of the exhibition spaces are underground; the main exhibition space is more than 3000 square meters. The opening of the museum in 2016 was accompanied by numerous political and historical discussions and conflicts. The Minister of Culture decided to dismiss the management team when the result of nearly eight years of the team’s work became publicly available. This situation was accompanied by numerous protests, revealing the importance of the museum for understanding the processes and transformations that Central Europe underwent as the result of World War II.[26] The identity of individuals as an act of conscious choice of belonging to a specific circle of recipients has been subjected to a difficult test in relation both to the traumatic events of the past war and to the contemporary sense of belonging to a specific environment. The museum positioned itself at the very centre of these controversies, making clear that an institution of its type may be a field of certain sublimation – a transfer of conflict from the real world to the represented world in the contractual context (exhibition) of which a struggle between different attitudes takes place. This phenomenon is worth emphasizing because the museum as an institution run by staff that should, for ethical reasons, strive for objectivity, tolerance, and openness, may in some circumstances become the arena of conflict, despite its most idealistic assumptions.

This observation, however, visualizes the extremely important role of the museum, which becomes the ‘field of mediation’ in today’s world, mediation that requires in-depth training of the people who initiate it. In this retrospective context of understanding identity in relation to the work and management of a museum, the above examples of three museums in Poland are of great significance.

The first example of a large museum devoted to the specificity of the region (Silesian Museum in Katowice) shows the importance of the understanding of the diversity of traditions at the meeting point of cultures (in the case of Silesia: Polish and German, and partly Czech) and of the search for common areas – i.e. the Silesian identity in all former and contemporary areas of cultural activity (language, customs, clothing, architecture, religions, literature, visual arts, music, science, craftsmanship, etc.).

The second example, the European Solidarity Centre in Gdańsk, is an excellent illustration of the ‘obstruction’ of memory of important social and cultural movements as a manifestation of the choice of outlook. The identity of this institution is to maintain a great social tradition, whose borders extend far beyond the region, country, or even continent, but also to build a new understanding of solidarity as the continuous process of assimilation.

The third example – the Museum of the Second World War, demonstrates how much work is still required in order to be able to return to past events in a situation where events from decades ago still shape consciousness, as if they took place quite recently, and how the sense of belonging, but also a sense of loss make it difficult to regain one’s personal and collective (social) identity.

All three examples of museums also have an entirely different dimension, a common dimension in contrast to their deep diversity. Each of them, a cultural institution to which people come and return, promotes the development of their surroundings, influences the shaping of the landscape, impacts social changes, and finally generates a certain economic income, thus becoming a stimulus of further change.

Jasna Gaburová

President of ICOM Czech Republic

NEIGHBOURS: IMPACT OF MUSEUM ON CULTURAL LANDSCAPES AND SOCIAL NETWORKS
Introduction to the second session of the seminar “Museum and Identities. Planning an Extended Museum”

Geographer Xoán Paredes defines cultural landscape as:

The environment modified by the human being in the course of time, the long-term combination between anthropic action on this environment and the physical constraints limiting or conditioning human activity. It is a geographical area – including natural and cultural resources – associated to historical evolution, which gives way to a recognizable landscape for a particular human group, up to the point of being identifiable as such by others.

An issue of the cultural landscape represents the complex phenomena that various disciplines deal with. It is caused by the fact that the character of the landscape distinguishes itself by changeability resulting from a variety of natural and cultural conditions. Jiří Kupka from Czech Technical University in Prague divides cultural landscape into five categories:

1. Preserved elements, objects and their complexes,

2. Preserved urban and settlement structure,

3. Preserved landscape structures where, for example, composed landscapes, traces of economic activity in the landscape and traces of the landscape exploitation, belong to,

4. Visual values of historical elements and structures,

5. Places of spiritual importance (immaterial value of landscapes).

The places in this last category are divided into several types (places associated with ancient legends and stories, places of historical events, places of pilgrimage, places associated with life, work or death of outstanding persons, and places connected with literary and artistic works).

To this category we can add museums as they are often connected with the abovementioned types. Museums with the most evident impact on cultural landscapes and social networks are the ecomuseums.

At the 24th ICOM General Conference “Museums and Cultural Landscape” at Milan in 2016, the first Forum of ecomuseums and community museums took place. The purpose of the forum was to share experiences, challenges and difficulties ecomuseums face today; to share their future projects; to envisage prospects of exchange or collaboration with their visitors. During the Forum, „it was proposed to establish an International Platform for exchange and experience sharing,” and “to create a permanent international Working Group to keep watch and make proposals on the theme territory–heritage–landscape.” In the early 2017, on the basis of ideas, issues and debates brought up at the Forum a common vision was drawn and a provisional “Milan Cooperation Charter” was adopted.

In the age of information technologies the impact of museums on social networks can be immense. But is it really so? How many ordinary people use the information technologies to study museum objects? When promoting museums and their activities, we simply cannot rely on the most powerful until recently of social networks – the Facebook. ‘Likes’ given to a post or ‘shares’ do not mean that all the people who liked the event would really come. The duty of a museum is to keep a record about its visitors and find out what they are interested in. Museums play an important part in educating people in local and national culture and history. The bigger the community, the easier it is to get the audience. The smaller the community, the more difficult it is to fulfil the demands of the visitors; on the other hand, however, it is easier for the museum to get feedback thanks to which it can be more flexible in organizing exhibitions or educational activities in accordance with the needs and interests of local people, schools and different social groups.

Local and municipal museums in small towns and villages, often far away from political, administrative and economical metropolises, have the greatest possibility to serve as a mediator between the cultural landscape and social networks; this, however, can be done only with enthusiastic directors, curators and other museum employees, with the support of enlightened and generous local authorities.

Elke Kellner

Managing Director ICOM Austria

PERSPECTIVES: DIFFERENT IDENTITIES AND MISSIONS OF MUSEUMS

Museums aim to benefit society, promote knowledge, art, creativity and ethics, while preserving their primary missions – to collect, conserve, communicate, research and exhibit objects that are in some way defined as meaningful for a society, a state, a group of people or an individual. Today, museums as cultural hubs function as platforms for discussion, often also tackling contemporary social issues and conflicts in their exhibitions. By offering different perspectives, museums can play an active role in addressing traumatic histories or controversial topics. By presenting scientific facts and promoting different viewpoints, the mission of museums is to strive against wrong perceptions of history and stereotypes that are often used as instruments of political agendas and to establish peaceful relationships between people. This is a very noble mission indeed, but when it comes to its fulfillment, it is not always easy to stay clear of well-established perceptions of history that often shape the identity of nations and countries. Museums have to reevaluate the kind of perspective or awareness they want to convey to their visitors. We have to look closely at the stories that are told and at who is telling them.

The colleagues who participate in the first panel of the conference address this topic from very different perspectives: Lisa Moran discusses the role of the Irish Museum of Modern Art reflecting the changing identity of Ireland over several decades as a locus for the renegotiation of identity in terms of the relationships between center and periphery, North and South, Ireland and the United Kingdom, and Ireland and Europe. Her contribution demonstrates the great continued relevance of this topic, especially as 2018 was the “European Year of Cultural Heritage,” but also, even more importantly, the year when the UK negotiated its withdrawal from the European Union (Brexit). One of the key points has been the border that separates Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland, and thus the Irish border backstop has been thought out as a guarantee that there be no hard border on the island of Ireland no matter what future trade arrangements are agreed between the EU and UK.

Rebecca Pollack dedicates her contribution to the framing of Holocaust narratives in Britain and the Holocaust Exhibition at the Imperial War Museum in London. She argues that by incorporating the Holocaust narrative into the national exhibitions of the First and Second World Wars, Britain deliberately frames the Holocaust within histories of its military victories. It also casts contemporary British identity in the role of a defender against injustices making it possible to construct British contemporary culture in opposition to its imperial past.

Jonathan Zisook examines the “Synagogue Museum” as a typological category of Jewish material remains that attempts to reconstruct and reimagine the Jewish past as an identity building project in the Polish present and for the Polish future. His sociological analysis demonstrates the importance of synagogues as physical structures and visible reminders of a once vibrant Jewish culture destroyed by the Nazis. In his opinion, the “Synagogue Museum” plays an essential role in the return of Jewish memory and the construction of a new Polish Jewish culture and identity among non-Jewish Poles in contemporary Poland.

Maria Anna Potocka presents another example from the Polish museum-community, examining MOCAK the Museum of Contemporary Art in Krakow in its social, historical and geographical context. Being an art museum, its main focus is to expose art as a social and critical device, as an invitation to debate public problems within the institution of the museum. Located in Krakow, a cultural hotspot of Poland, the museum aims to continue this tradition. At the same time, the historic context of the museum’s building – the former Oskar Schindler’s factory – manifests its link to the Holocaust.

Silvia Colombo approaches the topic by attempting to identify the (potential) common and shared values of the local museum scene together with the narratives conveyed by these exhibitions as well as to understand the practices used. On the example of “Spontaneous Museums” in Norrbotten County in northern Sweden, she shows how regional museums could help develop a more conscious cultural profile of the Norrbotten region, linked to its rich history and specific cultural heritage.

Finally, Michał Malinowski has a close look at how museums provide their audience with tools and templates for understanding the world and making sense of information, critically showing how the influence of mass and social media adversely affects our perception of reality. He concludes that the narrative structures built by museums around their objects and activities allow both a broader cultural understanding and debates within society.

Martina Lehmannová

Director of the Lidice Memorial, President of ICOM Czech Republic

MUSEUMS AND IDENTITIES. PLANNING AN EXTENDED MUSEUM

Having cooperated, the National Committees from Poland, Czechia, Slovakia and Austria organized the international conference entitled “Museums and Identities. Planning an Extended Museum”. The conference took place in the Museum of King John III’ Palace at Wilanów, Warsaw, Poland, on 21–23 November 2018. Thus, the ICOM Czech Republic has been fostering successful collaboration in organising international conferences following ‘Presumption to Responsibility. Museums and contested History. Saying the Unspeakable in Museums’ held in Brno in 2017, in co-operation with the ICOM National Committees: Austrian and Slovak.

Not until a few years ago, it seemed that identities that had been built for a long time faced a decline in importance in favour of new constructs. That impression was particularly strong in Europe. It was the formation of the European Union in preference to different values. Themes of national or country identities with bases formed in the nineteenth century were superseded by other universal and global subjects. Logically, we needed to have a sense of belonging and to understand where we belonged to. The role of museums was to discover and present inspirations from the past. Numerous projects were initiated to demonstrate the international nature of the society. Since then, however, the word ‘international’ has been increasingly often combined with ‘national’; nowadays, regional issues prevail. Globally, it was the establishment of the House of European History that offered one example of such process. The idea of its creation born in 2007 was accompanied with proclamations declaring a search for common themes, the uniform history of Europe, the uniform European identity. However, the permanent exhibition opened in 2017 did not cover any of them, since it aims to sustain the balance of member states too stubbornly. As to Czechia, it might be illustrated by projects devoted to Emperor Charles IV (1316–1378). Even the very title of the exhibition ‘Charles IV. The Emperor by the Grace of God’ run in 2006 (and presented in the Met, New York), referred to a nearly universal authority. Ten years later, the figure of Emperor Charles IV was presented at an exhibition accompanied with the epithet ‘Czech-Bavarian’.

The change of situation, however, did not come itself; undoubtedly, museums and collections had played an important role. It was definitely proved during the celebrations marking the 100th anniversary of the establishment of Czechoslovakia, with museums playing one of the most important roles. They witnessed political, cultural, economic, and environmental growth. Social developments have been documented by museum professionals in the form of created collections. Basing on this work, we can look for an answer to the questions about our identities. Are we Czechs? Czechoslovaks? Winners? Losers?

Whatever happens, it seems clear that no debate on identity/identities can take place without the participation of museum institutions. Identity is a set of many factors, both tangible and intangible, preserved by museums. Contrary to many other institutions, museums add the values of material objects to the intangible cultural heritage. In the increasingly virtual world, museums are becoming places that make it possible to meet the reality. It is our mission to make this happen.

The conference entitled “Museums and Identities” was devoted to debates on the existing state of museum discourses. The basic question was: What is the role played by the museum in the process of building identities in the contemporary society? Answers were given in six panels. Introductory lectures dealt with the issue of perspectives of different museums and their missions. Especially noteworthy in this respect was a paper by Lisa Moran entitled ‘Inheritance and Transformation, and the Irish Museum of Modern Art’ presenting the development of the institution that reflected identities in Ireland from 1991 to the present time, when – under the influence of political and economic developments, Ireland was being transformed into a united and universal state. Since the country is facing the necessity to deal with Brexit now, the Museum is considering a scenario under which it will be developing in a new political situation.

Next panel dealt with the question of neighbourhood and the influence of museums on the formation of social relations. A paper delivered by Celine Wawruschka from Austria presented the revival of interest in the local history generated by her research into the founders of Lower Austrian museums. She gave renewed publicity to the forgotten nineteenth-century figures, placed them into the local and international contexts, thus attracting attention of the local authorities.

Panel three was devoted to politics, museums in the context of the past and present time. It included projects devoted to such problems as the preservation of the Warsaw Ghetto memorial, or the colonial history and emigration fighting for existence with the political establishment that would lack understanding. Among its papers was a paper by Markéta Jonášová ‘“The Second Centre Pompidou”: Display of the Modern and Contemporary Art Collection at the Czech National Gallery in the 1990s’; she provided detailed research into exhibition projects carried out by the National Gallery in Prague and compared them with the contemporary political situation; using the exhibitions as illustrations, Markéta Jonášová indicated the common ground on which the National Gallery in Prague would build a concept of arts in the Czech Republic and of Czech arts.

The conference devoted special attention to the nature or, more precisely, to the cultural landscape. Papers on special landscape areas in Poland and Czechia were presented within the same panel. Zbigniew Myczkowski delivered a paper on the ‘Royal Gardens at Wilanów – the Pearl of the Local Landscape and the Nest of Place Identity’; Zdeněk Novák presented ‘Landscape for Breeding and Training Ceremonial Carriage Horses at Kladruby nad Labem in Bohemia’. The landscape is a cornerstone in the process of identity formation, and its character has an impact on inhabitants. The discovery and recovery of historical concepts of landscape are among the most important tasks of cultural institutions; they make it possible for us to understand the place we live in and to develop a mental attitude towards our surroundings. The panel included a report prepared by Naďa Machková Prajzová, Milan Jan Půček and Antonín Šimčík entitled ‘Agriculture: Re-Discovered Identity in the Context of the Changing World’. The presentation introduced the National Museum of Agriculture, now undergoing a remarkable process of transformation from a dusty and nearly-forgotten institution into one of the most popular museums in the Czech Republic. The museum professionals managed to give a true picture of fundamental questions put by the contemporary society; combining history and the latest topics they presented numerous interesting views on the basic activities and needs to order human existence.

Naturally, the process of identity building is conditioned by economy; this subject was dealt with in a separate panel devoted to interrelations of museums and their vicinities. The speech on this topic, delivered by Jindřich Ondruš ‘Museum/Landscape/People – Identity and Its Stakeholders’, explained in detail the influence of the Wallachian Open Air Museum on the development of the local economy, and explored relations between money invested in museums (subsidies, etc.) and money generated by museums.

The final panel was devoted to the question of the European Union and the formation of European identity.

Papers presented at the conference are to be published in the collection in 2019. The co-organizers will continue their activities, and the next conference is planned in Bratislava in November 2019 under the patronage of the ICOM National Committee Slovakia, and will be devoted to the thirty years of freedom – which we intend to study in respect of the freedom of information.

III

THEORIES
AND PROCESSES

Piotr Majewski

National Institute for Museums and Public Collections
Cardinal Stefan Wyszynski University in Warsaw

PLANNING A MUSEUM IN ITS SURROUNDINGS, I.E. MUSEUM IN CONTEXT – INTRODUCTORY REFLEXIONS

I would like to thank the initiators of this Wilanów seminar for their invitation. It is a great pleasure for the National Institute for Museums and Public Collections to support this event as an institution as well as by contributing to its program. I would also like to take the liberty of shortly addressing the topics outlined in the program, especially the ones pertaining to museum’s activities, such as revitalization, history, memory and culture as well as the cultivation of this memory. My voice is that of a historian who also used to do museum work and who feels inspired by one of the points made by the ICOM General Conference in July of 2016 (The New Responsibilities of Museums towards Landscape). It states that “thanks to the skills of museum professionals, museums help to increase the awareness of the communities and make decisions about landscape transformations”.[1] May this statement reflect that museums inspire individuals as well.

The aforementioned notion of revitalization includes the essential aspect of heritage management which encompasses culture as well as nature – as we are speaking about museums and their surroundings. It thus touches upon the question of the economic utility of this heritage as well as its appeal to the society. The term revitalization in this context does not carry the narrow meaning of conservation (actually: restoration) but describes an obligation to preserve tangible carriers of values (cultural and natural) as well as an obligation towards its recipients.

Nowadays, decisions concerning the preservation of cultural heritage in all its dimensions and contexts are not made by politics of national governments and meritocratic convictions alone, but oftentimes by a volatile public opinion for which monuments, museums, their surroundings, tangible as well as intangible forms of heritage are (or are not) a commonplace part of their surroundings – their mental landscape I would like to call it. Through their activities on behalf of their social surroundings museums play a vital role in the decision of whether cultural heritage is or is not a stable part of this mental landscape in the same way as other cultural institutions are – such as hospitals, stadiums, supermarkets, etc.

It will prove difficult to expect the satisfying effects postulated by international boards without facing the challenge of winning the battle over collective awareness – an awareness for the need to preserve our heritage in its broadest context. This awareness – interestingly – has been part of the Polish law concerning the preservation of monuments since Poland’s re-birth in 1918 as well as before, e.g. in the activity of the Society for the Care of Monuments of the Past.

When considering whether our heritage (and its contexts) constitutes a value in itself or rather a value dependent on society’s needs, we are forced to face problems pertaining to the economic aspect of museums’ work. These problems concern the search for effective ways to finance the preservation of tangible heritage as well as current maintenance in a long-term perspective. This inevitably leads to the question of entrepreneurship in a museum’s operations and, accordingly, the attempt to define proportions: what part should entrepreneurship play in a museum and how much of it can a museum afford in order to still be a museum.

In these reflections on heritage and its multidimensional contextualization there is room for history as well; more broadly speaking: for cultural memory – in light of this seminar’s topics – the culture of conserving its surroundings (physical as much as mental ones).

Nowadays, with the traditional canon of knowledge about the past as well as the canon of passing on this knowledge losing its implicit value, the question “What is history for?”, in which history describes the way we interpret reality as a series of correlated experiences rather than of ephemeral incidents, is especially pressing. Carlos Pereyra would answer it by saying that “in the turmoil of the contemporary period orientation becomes possible only if we start from a comprehensive knowledge of the process, which has led to the world being the way it is”. The problem is that the necessity of considering these types of questions seems to be less self-evident than ever before. The more importance we ascribe to the past, the less we seem to actually know about it.

In discussing the multidimensional context of heritage and the preservation of its collective memory, the question about the validity of what the public discourse calls politics of history politics of memory politics of culture returns. It is a key question concerning the responsibilities a nation state (and its institutions) has towards the cultural and natural assets it is entrusted with as well as their collective memory. Consequently – as an affirmative answer seems to be imposing itself – another question arises concerning the responsibilities of museums, whose expositions include the space surrounding the museums themselves.

Answering this question, necessarily reveals its ethical dimension. The past and its descriptions have been and still are a sort of mixed bag of socio-technically useful tools that would offer knowledge on certain models of personalities, which in turn would provide foundation for the current – implying: optimal – state of affairs. The profession of anyone dealing with cultural heritage is still bound by this responsibility. Taking a walk through the streets of Warsaw today, a city that has been revitalized after having been destroyed in World War II, we’ll admire a postulated past, petrified according to the then available knowledge and ideas about it – a yardstick that changes over time and space. For conservatio est aeterna creatio...

Stringing together a variety of threads stimulated by the theme of this seminar, I would like to point out that what predisposes museums to confront their Gordian knot is the museums’ interdisciplinarity as institutions as well as that among their employees, the diversity of the exhibits – documenting culture and nature – the cross-disciplinary approach to the times in which they operate as well as the interdisciplinary expectations of people visiting museums.

We thus find ourselves in the right place and at the right moment in time to reflect on challenges that are not new, but are emerging anew.

Christopher Whitehead

Universities of Newcastle (UK) and Oslo (Norway)

DE-BORDERING THE MUSEUM: VOICE, EMPATHY AND ARCHAEOLOGIES OF INEQUALITY[1]

Introduction

Is it possible – or desirable – to conceive of a museum without borders? What are the borders that we propose to tear down in the museum, and how?

‘Museum without borders’ is a slogan for an institutional ideal of access for and responsiveness to the many rather than the few. It is the proposal of a public space that is inclusive of multiple groups and identities, that is, a space in which old hierarchies and social orders are no longer allowed to reproduce inequalities. In postcolonial contexts and others where multiple ethnicities and identities cohabit, the museum without borders is concerned with representation of different groups, and with reflecting and acting on its own historical and situated socio-political nesting and functions. It means working through its potentials as contact zone, in the sense articulated by James Clifford as a space of critical and reciprocated interaction between the museum and the groups whose cultures are musealised.[2] It means avoiding at all costs a monovocal, top-down, authoritative imposition of knowledge on others, and fashioning instead a site of cultural enfranchisement.

Very well. But in another sense, a museum without borders is a contrary idea in our time, for this is an ever more bordered world, and walls of one kind or another are forever being made. Obviously, we can speak of the walls and borders that demarcate national territories – which cut up the physical world into the arbitrary formations we call states. The US-Mexico Wall that Donald Trump so desires, the ‘Fortress Europe’ much invoked in the Refugee Crisis, are not just physical things but powerful expressions: of who should be in and out who should belong, who can own space, who is legitimate and who is not. They are the blunt argument for sovereignty, containment and exclusion that is always othering, for they necessarily demarcate here-there, us-them relations.[3] But their logic is often circular: the border is there to divide this group from that; this group needs to be divided from that because there is a border. The fundamental and historical ‘why?’ question is rarely addressed. Borders mark out who can live where, in relation to matters of legal title. Many of us own property, or pay to live in property owned by others, somewhere in this bordered world. At its origins, the idea of owning land is an outrageous nonsense, but over millennia we have naturalised this bizarre claim, such that it is legalised, secured, policed and protected, even gated (which is to say, bordered), in some cases with flagrant disregard for those whose presence preceded ours. There is – of course – little chance, without an apocalypse, of going back from this and unpicking the longue durée legal weave through which we have appropriated nature, and although some might gain from this, many of us would find such a change quite contrary to our interests.

Borders then are a naturalised (but not a natural) thing, an ever-present condition of our existence and co-relations. They are not only physical walls. We can think too of economic, social, psychological borders, and epistemological borders, and it is here that talk of ‘museums without borders’ appears more radical. As many have commented, the museum has always had a bordering function: for example, the art museum sets the borders of what can be considered as ‘art’, and the proper grounds of behaviour in front of such stuff. For Pierre Bourdieu and Alain Darbel in 1969, the museum’s function was – through the double making of elite culture and elite society – to reproduce and enforce borders between social classes. The history museum sets borders between what should and should not be noticed of the world before now – what pasts, and what stories, fragments and images of them should be made known, and which ones not. These borders are not distinct from the bordering of social groups, for there is reciprocity between the knowledge formations and the social formations that uphold and profit from them. For many, the very walls of the museum are borders, and this is not helped by entrance charges, high security, the forbidding starchitecture beloved of governments and municipalities pursuing the tourist dollar and the soft power of international cultural capital. (The decades-old interests in access that marked the New Museology continue to bypass many powerful museum-makers!) It is not helped by some museums’ physical inaccessibility for the differently-abled, the differently-gendered, for parents, and sometimes even for pedestrians (as when there is no easy way to walk to the museum because of poor urban planning). There are many other bordering practices that we could mention as specific to the museum, chief among which is the glass border they make between us and the curated world.

‘Heritage’, or the symbolic valorisation of the past in the present, is often presented in national and international policy as a means of identifying and celebrating commonality, as something with the potential to unite. It is – in this view – a way of eliminating the borders in the mind. We know very well, however, that it can also be an object and engine of division, precisely because of issues of ownership.[4] As I and many other researchers have explored in the context of the EU-funded CoHERE (Critical Heritages of Europe) project,[5] heritage is instrumentalised by many policy makers as a means of overcoming difference and proposing common humanity; but it is also sometimes used by individuals, groups, politicians and media actors to reinforce difference, hatred and fear. When a heritage is yours but not mine, then we have a border of the mind that can have pernicious effects of social division in the ‘real world’ of social relations.

In some cases, this reaches terrible proportions of consequence. In 2011, Anders Breivik massacred seventy-seven people, most of them members of the youth wing of the Norwegian Socialist Party. He did so as an act of war against the encroachment of others – foreigners, Muslims, the non-white – not by targeting those others directly but by targeting people who would protect their rights and whose political creed was based on acceptance and even celebration of difference. In support of his murderous actions, he made use of a confection of historical stories – the crusades, the Norse Gods, the Siege of Vienna, to legitimate the border of belonging that he was making. Five years later, in the run-up to the Brexit referendum in the UK, the right-wing nationalist Thomas Mair murdered Labour – and pro-‘Remain’ – Member of Parliament Jo Cox. He did so against a background of ideologically xenophobic uses of the past by far-right and mainstream political actors. Such political discourse was widely reported to give disaffected and indignant Britons – those that can be adequately classed as losers of globalisation, punished by austerity, de-industrialisation and needing someone to blame for their predicament – a license to hate and perpetrate deadly violence. (Attacks on mosques and reports of racial hatred in the UK rose considerably at the time.) To be sure, these seem like extreme cases, but we are seeing their mainstreaming across many national settings. And these eruptions of obvious violence are not so distinct from the subtler, banal forms of discrimination and division in which our ideas about the past – how we relate to it, what claim to presence it gives us, what mandate for othering – configure borders of difference and reproduce division in society, both through the interaction of groups and the cultural coding of public media forms including the museum.

How then – returning to the question – can museums be borderless spaces, when borders are written into the very morphology of the museum as institution, and when bordering practices in the world outside are so prevalent? Let us take these aspects in turn.

Unboxing the museum

Answers to the first part of the above question are well rehearsed. Exemplary community-led museums; outreach programmes; the idea of an ‘extended museum’ (articulated in recent ICOM discussions) that is not bordered into a zone of containment and reclusion, but ‘gets out there’ into neighbourhoods, into social life, into public spaces; participatory projects (for all of their difficult politics and practicalities); community co-production... All of these break the box of the museum and allow for a positive intermingling of the museal and the social. They may help to overcome the threshold fear that many people still feel at the museum entrance, making it instead a social space and a civic, civil forum of more equal exchange between groups and between actors, where the orders between expert and non-expert are eroded to recognise people’s ‘lived expertise’ of their experiences and their world.

Co-production initiatives are ideally suited to this. They form both a means for collecting (stories, memories, images) and layering interpretation. This can be the rescue archaeology of memory, which is critically important because of intergenerational cultural changes and rapid urban, rural and climate change. Spending time with people, walking, talking, tracing their place-based memories and knowledges, enabling their creative agency through structured frameworks – all of this can all shift the emphasis of the museum and the very concept of heritage, as constituted by things, sites and practices, but also as peopled. People – not just places – are mobile heritage sites, accruing and making their historicity through the markings of time and place, through experience, and through identity and memory practices. If people are mobile heritage sites, it follows that they are not only the bearers but also the keepers of that heritage. We must work together to articulate these heritages that have been hidden in plain sight, that may overlay, interconnect with, or bypass and contradict, official heritage.

Community co-production is a form of participatory collaboration between the powerful and less powerful to create material – often for public dissemination and use – that involves sharing the creative work of production. The purpose of this is to give creative agency and ‘voice’ to people whose voices are not usually heard, and whose stories, interests and perspectives are rarely shared. It allows community members to communicate publicly, and should provide them with the resources and guidance to do this in an empowering, respectful and rewarding way. Co-production can take the form of displays, media outputs (e.g. films, photo-essays, sound recordings, etc. etc.). They can be documentary or creative, or a mixture of both. Co-production can:

– Help people to feel that their voices are being heard and that their communities and views are recognised.

– Reveal hidden histories and add to the stock of knowledge about heritage and the histories of places and communities.

– Valorise people’s ‘lived expertise’ alongside academic expertise.

– encourage respect for, and promotion of, cultural diversity.

– facilitate intercultural and intergroup dialogue.

– Increase people’s sense of ownership of, and pride in, historic sites, encouraging civil and civic engagement.

– Reduce people’s senses of alienation from authorities and from decision-making processes.

Authorised Heritage Discourse (AHD) is a concept identified by heritage studies scholar Laurajane Smith in her 2006 book Uses of Heritage.[6] AHD is based on typical expert knowledge, expounded by people who have the authority to judge if the past is valuable to protect, and what aspects of it should be valorised through preservation or interpretation. AHD also sees heritage as innately valuable, but underneath this there may be elitist aesthetic judgements about what is beautiful, or political choices about what heritage is important to tell the story of a place, a nation or a people. Community engagement and co-production offer important ways to overcome a narrow AHD and to change the balance of power over who can speak about the past. Co-production is about finding ways for people to be able to express themselves to wider publics, especially in circumstances where they are generally unable to do so. It recognises people’s ‘lived expertise’, which is to say that people are experts on their own lives and – in personal ways – the places of their lives.

Voice, in this context, is the right and the power to express views freely, including a general entitlement to have these views heard. There are – of course – instances in which voices must be regulated or moderated, for example, where people express hatred towards others, and/or express racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic and other prejudicial viewpoints. In these cases, we need to find ways to make decisions based on knowledge of public order legislation and the sensitivities of community relations. Not acknowledging such voices runs the risk of making our museums into spaces of fiction and escape that evade the difficulties of the present. In museums, we need careful mechanisms to deal with such situations, taking care that all parties act within the law.

At the heart of a successful co-production project is a desire to recognise and promote value in this more pluralistic perspective on what it means to manage and communicate heritage, and this requires a balance of views across the spectrum. In a recent event on working with communities, one of my research team members discussed her method of finding participants for our co-production activities by ‘hanging out’ in the neighbourhoods we were working in, by being friendly and approaching people and showing genuine curiosity about, and interest in, their understandings and views of the past. One panellist was disquieted by this, asking ‘what happens if the person you talk to is really hated by the community and doesn’t speak for them?’ This question is understandable, but it also comes from a comfort zone. It erects a border between those who should be invited to speak and those who should be silenced. It risks making a heterogeneous community of communities into one thing with one limited range of views. It polices voice and the right to feel attachments to the past. Of course we need to be discriminating and careful in our representation of positions, but this should not mean silencing anyone dogmatically.

The museum also needs to be decentred. Community engagement should not only have the purpose of ‘input’ into the museum, of ‘bringing back’ materials and visitors. Rather, the museum may better be considered one of many nodes within a network of valorisation; other nodes may not be so boxed up: they could be streets, squares, gathering places, spaces of memory, a web-based archive. Both museal and civic practices and processes should flow freely through this network, without any assumption that the museum should be some kind of terminus.

In the Newton-Kâtip Çelebi-funded project ‘Plural Heritages of Istanbul’, which ran from 2016 to 2018,[7] together with colleagues I developed a programme of practice-based research into community memory and understandings of the heritages of the ancient Land Walls of the city, which are part of a UNESCO World Heritage Site (Fig. 1). People from many communities and with a range of identity positions took us on walks of the neighbourhoods, pointing out and discussing what was important to them, either for symbolic reasons, matters of collective memory or personal life stories, or mixtures of these. Through this we saw refractions of notable historical events – things that make it into history books – experienced in the everyday memory spaces and lifeworlds of ‘ordinary’ people unknown to the wider world – people whose lives rarely make any mark on the official heritage record (that is, the political analogue of the fossil record). At the same time, we took seriously the seemingly banal and everyday memories and practices of social life. We discovered long histories of intergroup amity and conflict, bird-keeping and trading, gardening, sport, religious observance, mourning and labour that configure existence in and the spaces of the urban heritage site. And yet such rich histories were nowhere recognised in the official valorisation of the site, such as in the UNESCO World Heritage Site Statement of Outstanding Universal Value (OUV).[8] We understood that there were truly ‘plural heritages’ of what appeared to be a single place.

1. A researcher from the Plural Heritages of Istanbul team talks to male teenagers who routinely walk on top of the Land Walls of Istanbul to socialise, much as their fathers and grandfathers did. This is part of the history of the area and its inhabitants that is routinely ignored. Rather, the authorised heritage discourse (AHD) stresses the military history of the Walls as a defensive structure, for example during the Ottoman Conquest of Constantinople in 1453, as well as their ancient archaeological and architectural features; Photo by Christopher Whitehead

After walking with and learning from community members, we worked with some of them to co-produce guided walks and films – sometimes on creative premises, such as when some of our participants opted to be filmed in conversation with the walls, asking them tricky questions about their history that still play into intergroup relations today. We screened these films – of which the participants have ownership – at a community gathering in a café in the neighbourhood. Participants were not asked to come to a museum or a seat of AHD; we came to them. Nor did we seek to incorporate the films into a museum display, although this would be easy to do; rather, they sit in digital space for anyone to access remotely or in situ at the Walls themselves; you can walk with our participants, around the places of their lives and memories. (I encourage you to do so!) This is – in some senses – the distributed making of a borderless museum. It is about extending museum thinking into the ethics of everyday life, and vice versa.

From our experience, we found that:

– Communities who live in and with heritage are key stakeholders. They have knowledge, memories and ‘lived expertise’ that often add new dimensions to our historical understandings and offer a counterpoint to conventional and official ideas of heritage value.

– Community involvement in heritage practice has numerous benefits, including empowerment of social groups, the positive revalorisation of sites, the development of new layers of interpretation of interest to audiences and fulfilling heritage management best practice.

– Community involvement means participation; there are different levels of participation, and it is important that we think carefully about what we can achieve, what the objective and limitations of the participation. It is crucial not to mistake basic consultation for meaningful community participation.

– The ‘community’ is not one thing – there are multiple communities and they intersect in complex ways. This means we should be aware of the political dimensions of identifying communities with which to work.

– It is critical that we gain and maintain trust with the communities we engage, so that people are empowered to participate. As part of this, respectful and responsible communication practices are essential.

– Different communities who live in the same place or have attachments to the same history may have different and potentially conflicting narratives about it, that connect to tensions in the present. This is one of the most difficult aspects of community engagement, for it can relate to serious social, political and legal issues. This means that heritage professionals involved in community engagement have to develop significant new expertise and accept a duty of care not just for heritage sites but for stakeholder communities too.

These and other experiences and recommendations are presented in a number of toolkits – practical guides pertaining to the ‘plural heritages’ approach, community engagement, co-production, digital memory mapping and other innovations.[9]

Engaging with borders in the museum

Let us now address the second part of the question posed earlier – how can museums be borderless spaces, when bordering practices in the world outside are so prevalent? This requires more counter-intuition. I suggest that in a way, museums should be full of borders. What I mean by this is that museums should be a site in which we recognise and take stock of the bordered world, and of the bordering practices that occur. Too often, museums have avoided talk of borders, as if to present a frictionless world. Of course, there are incidental mentions in history museums of the making of borders between territories in the past. But at the level of national history this sits uneasily sometimes, as it brings into focus the mutability of the geopolitical formations that have – relatively recently in world and human history – become nation states, giving the lie to any assumption that our nations have some kind of natural shape and represent an unquestionable global order.

Other kinds of border – between richer and poorer, between ethnicities, communities, classes, genders, identities, belief systems, religions, abilities, ages and so on – also need consistent attention in the museum. Museums that deal with what Ash Amin calls the ‘politics of propinquity’,[10] or the problems of sharing the space we cohabit, too often present social relations as untroubled, as if the places of our lives were simple sites of equal opportunity and intercultural amity. The difficult histories of the past – the racisms, the exploitation and elimination of people(s) that are highly visible in public imaginaries, are – it is true – often important foci for museums. But in general, they are presented as closed, as ‘past’ as in finished without particular ramifications for or connections with the present. There is an Enlightenment teleology to it: this is what we have survived, what we have gone beyond; what we have learned from, so as never to repeat it. It is the old story of humanity ‘progressing’ in civilizational terms. Important though it is to reflect on the violences of the past, we wilfully delude ourselves if we imagine that all of this old violence is gone. It is in the weave of social relations in the present. It is in the repeat injustices, inequities and structured misfortunes that befall whole groups of people because the powerful have forgotten the lessons of the past, or don’t care for them. This is about how the establishment of mythic closure of difficult history can obscure its connections to contemporary social antagonisms that are truly ‘difficult’ now.

Museums need – if anything – to excavate the borders that articulate discrimination and social exclusion. This is an archaeology of the present. Where do such bordering practices come from? How are we positioned on either side of these divides? How did we get here? What were the causes and what have been their effects? How does it feel to be where we are, taking into account that the ‘we’ is in fact heterogeneous and comprehends multiple subject positions, identities and vantage points? What are the different interests, beliefs, enmities and anxieties that different groups have? Let us go back as far as we can to understand the origins and development of such situations, to helps ourselves and audiences to understand why inequalities exist, why certain groups behave as they do, and what is at stake for them in their beliefs about past and present.

This also means that museums should engage directly with manifestations of hatred and discrimination, treating these as historical artefacts of the present or recent past. It involves a careful use of representational techniques, whereby uncivil phenomena can be ‘distanced’ through display methods that are analytical in nature, taking the heat out of them. This is not about ‘platforming’ hateful voices, but about containing, historicising and analysing them. Excising troubling phenomena from the museum creates a fictional world of peace and harmony that will lead museums to further irrelevance. It also means a shift in emphasis from closed history to a history of the present. New communicative media make this more possible than ever, and it is necessary to speed up exhibitionary response times. It is no longer possible to say that the museum is the ‘wrong medium’ for up-to-the-minute issues.

Another common way in which museums try to mitigate fear and hatred of otherness is through representing the personal stories of those who suffer visibly the global inequalities of the present, in order to help visitors to feel the difficulties that others have undergone and to create a moral community that uses empathy as a basis for promoting tolerance. The border transgression here is between the lifeworlds of the privileged and the unprivileged. It is to say to the visitor: exit yourself momentarily; cross the border between you and me; be in my world for a while; see what it is like. This is the case, for example, with museums and exhibitions that focus on forced migration and refugeeism. Empathy and tolerance, however, are paradoxically liable to reproduce borders,[11] for they afford the empathisers and the tolerators a privileged position of moral regard towards others. It is most often a one-way relationship, based on the exercise of emotional agency from which – in a worst case – it is the feeling subject rather than the other, or the distant sufferer, who benefits, for she or he fulfils a moral duty of empty care before returning to normal life. It is a ‘feel-bad-feel-good’ affect, often one for which visitors sometimes pay good money. Historian Mark Salber Phillips cautions that “empathy [...] can lead to some dangerous paths.” He continues “when the sufferer is someone to whom we have no direct or demonstrable connection, identification may seem unearned and can easily degenerate into self-indulgence or even prurience...”;[12] Similarly, philosopher Amy Coplan problematizes over-identification and ‘empty empathy’.[13] Another philosopher, Paul Bloom, has recently argued that empathy is a harmful stand-in for the informed, ‘rational compassion’ that alone can lead to effective programmes of care.[14]

You might now object to this cynical view, and suggest that even effecting a gradual attitudinal shift among audiences is good work on the part of museums. This is so, but not if the museum compartmentalises empathy, and, because we are so struck with the affecting sight of human suffering, subtly exonerates us from taking action against the real engines of inequality. Perhaps the idealized empathetic response that museums encourage does actually lead – in some cases – to critically-informed actions of care in the world. Indeed, if Phillips cautions against empathy, he also cautions against a dismissal of a compassionate, sentimental engagement, for this can be part of important progressive programmes including moral campaigns from anti-slavery to women’s rights.[15] Furthermore, the hypothesis mooted above that the museum enables a compartmentalization of emotional and ethical engagement is one that requires empirical study, so that we can begin to understand the long-term effects on visitors of such exhibitions.

Cultural theorist Carolyn Pedwell talks of empathy as a Euro-American political obsession, based in part on the “liberal desire to explain social and geo-political conflict and inequity as the outcome of deficient cross-cultural understanding (rather than say pervading structures and practices of neocolonial and neoliberal governmentality), and thus to invest in the promise of empathy as affective remedy”.[16] Empathy, in this view, can reinforce the very conditions of inequality and power relations that give it its raison d’être, by diverting our attention from key structural problems. She explains, “this turn away from political and economic structures and towards an individualist politics of feeling has arisen in a context in which we are told repeatedly that there is no alternative to global capitalism, the neo-imperialist ‘war machine’, and their social and geo-political cleavages”. To add to this, we might consider systemic obstacles to legal and safe refugeeism. These include the difficulties in claiming asylum-seeker status because of bureaucratic overload and the ways in which policy itself, inadvertently or otherwise, creates the very conditions of refugees’ suffering.[17] For example, in Europe the Geneva Convention has arguably become inoperable for identifying legitimate asylum seekers because of penalties that disincentivize commercial carriers from dealing with them, creating a market for people-smuggling that in turn leads to mass suffering. This suffering is then documented in increasingly distressing representations in newsmedia and exhibitions, but often without any such causal explanations. This suggests that the deficit is not so much one of empathy for distant sufferers as of meaningful understanding of, and rational but compassionate action against, the systemic and global-level causes of their suffering.

To address suffering inevitably also requires the metaphorical archaeology of the borders that criss-cross the physical and social world. This is to enable the development of a moral community that is also a critical community, aware of the hybridities, causes, borderings and cultural crossings that make the present. Such a community may make only a small difference, but it is one that museums can equip them to make, both through understanding the real causes and contingencies of inequality, difference and power questions that must be addressed, and by transgressing the border of the museum walls to take into the spheres of the everyday some more active principle and practice of care.

The 2017 “Lost Childhoods” exhibition on foster care at the Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History told of the “stories, struggles, and triumphs of youth who are aging out of foster care”, surely a community bordered out of the social, legal and economic structures that many of us take for granted, not least the family. Here, through take-away postcards at the end, the exhibition exhorted visitors to translate their regard in the exhibition to a practical act of care in the real world: donating clothes; helping someone write a CV, even baking a birthday cake. These may be small gains that do nothing much to address the systemic causes of disadvantage, but they are something, they are achievable, and they represent the breaking of an existential wall between the museum and real life. Above all, the museum can reinvent itself as a truly crucial institution of the present if such small gains can be married to the cultivation of deeper historical understandings. Such understandings should enable us to think critically about the complex and sometimes difficult-to-see borders of the everyday, and to take to task those actors – institutional, political, media – who make and protect such borders.

To summarise:

– Museums should recognise and address the implication of heritage – in both official and non-official forms – in the production of contemporary antagonistic identities, social divisions and anxious responses to change, and as a matter of everyday life and high political salience.

– Museums should be a site in which we recognise and take stock of the bordered world, and of the bordering practices that occur. It means avoiding a fictional representation of the world as a space of frictionless amity, freedom and equality. (This is an easy option for museums, but fundamentally limits their social purchase and relevance.) It also means ‘excavating’ the deep causes and histories of discrimination, inequality and social divisions, and thereby creating better conditions for intergroup understandings and peace through engagement with past-present connections.

– The eradication of social division is a utopian prospect. Museum’s engagement with social division is not necessarily about ‘resolving’ different identity positions and attitudes to the past. It is about negotiating the politics of sharing space with care, justice and civility, without fear of violence, as guiding principles.

– Museums do well to promote empathy for others as a means of transgressing experiential borders, but there should be an awareness of the political and ethical liabilities of this as an approach that can reinforce difference and do little to foster effective change. Let us consider, in museums and beyond, how we can move between empathy and criticality, understanding complexity and deep causes, and how to move from viewing to doing, from empathy to action.

Paradoxically, the ‘de-bordered’ museum turns out to be always cognisant of them, always engaging with them. Borders are not going to disappear. Instead of hoping for such a condition, or blithely suggesting that we live in fictional harmony, museums can help us comprehend the history of bordering processes, the positions, thoughts and feelings of those who make them, and the consequences for those of us on either side. Museums can help maintain our vigilance as new borders are made. They are sites in which borders should be both understood and routinely dismantled.

Cristina Da Milano

ECCOM – European Centre for Cultural Organization and Management

MUSEUMS AS SOCIAL LANDSCAPES[1]

The relationship between heritage and community

The relationship between heritage and communities implies the need for a clear binary vision of community members as active subjects and not just passive recipients of cultural policies actions and strategies.

On 27 June 2005, Faro, in Portugal, hosted the opening meeting of the Council of Europe on the ‘Framework Convention on the Value of Cultural Heritage for Society’, called the Faro Convention, which came into force on 1 June 2011.[2]

That document is still a milestone for the understanding of the role of cultural heritage in contemporary society: starting from the concept that the use of cultural heritage falls between the rights of the individual to come into the cultural life of the community and enjoy the arts, as enshrined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights of 1948,[3] the Faro Convention represents a step forward since it grants to the populations the right to play an active role in recognizing the values of cultural heritage and invites states to promote participatory processes, based on the synergy between public institutions, private citizens, and associations.

The main element of novelty of the Faro Convention is constituted precisely by the shift of attention from the object – cultural heritage – to the subject: citizens and community. In fact, Article 12 of the Convention affirms that the parties undertake to “take into consideration the value attributed by each patrimonial community to the cultural heritage in which it identifies” and “to promote actions to improve access to cultural heritage, in particular for young people and disadvantaged people, in order to raise awareness of its value, the need to conserve and preserve it and the benefits that can derive from it”.[4] Hence the Convention therefore sees in the participation of citizens and communities the key to increase awareness in Europe about the value of cultural heritage and its contribution to well-being and quality of life. The key points are therefore the notion of cultural heritage as a common good, the definition of ‘community of inheritance’ and the concept of value as something socially constructed.

Regarding the first point, the term ‘common good’ describes a specific good shared by and beneficial for everyone – or for the great part of a given community. This also applies to cultural heritage that ultimately belongs to humanity and is preserved for future generations. Water, air, environment – are common goods in a global sense, but the historic centre of a city, a monument, a local museum, a public garden, a landscape are goods that benefit specific communities and can be key elements of local development, helping to improve the quality of life of that community and producing integration, social cohesion and sense of belonging.

The second point concerns ‘heritage communities’ which the Convention defines as “a group of people who attribute value to specific aspects of cultural heritage, and who wish, in the framework of public action, to support them and pass them on to future generations”.[5] It is clear that the concept of community can be understood in a broader sense but it is anyway closely related to the notions of access, participation and representation (which we will discuss later).

As for the third point, communities play a fundamental role in the valorisation of heritage, since – through participatory processes – they consciously appropriated the values related to it, redefining them: in fact, the concept of value is a socially constructed concept that changes over time and depends on historical, social and cultural factors. A further strengthening of this concept passes through the UNESCO Recommendation of 2015 in which cultural heritage is defined as a set of material and immaterial values recognized by the populations, key actors of the processes of identifying what heritage is.[6]

The values of cultural heritage

Value is the result of a social construction made by every community in every age: this is true for every object of an evaluation and consequently also for cultural heritage. But even if we admit that every value is a symbolic value, it remains however to be established how the values associated with the heritage within our societies are constructed.

We can start from the economic value of cultural heritage, since from the analysis of this particular type of value derives important implications also on the social value of heritage.

The economic value related to heritage is a multidimensional one, defined as Total Economic Value (TEV) and used to define the total value of non-reproducible resources. It is the sum of the use-value (direct and indirect) and the non-use value, to which the option value, the bequest value and the existence value are attributable.[7]

Since it is not possible to apply to cultural heritage the cost of substitution as an indicator of the value of the asset itself (heritage), the value of the benefits connected to it is used for this purpose. It is useful to dwell on the definition of the so-called social and psychological benefits, which refer to the sphere of social relationships, the level of quality of life, the state of inner well-being that arises when there is the possibility of living in presence of (and enjoying) environmental and cultural quality.[8] In particular, among the social benefits have been identified:

Increase of people’s cultural level through:

– Enhancement of cultural diversity and collective memory in every community

– Increase of individual technical skills

– Awareness of existential and environmental problems

Improvement of the quality of life through:

– Crime reduction

– Social relations

– Awareness of civil rights

But if the recognition and evaluation of these benefits are less problematic as regards the issues of conservation and re-use of the historical-architectural heritage – also because in this context there are studies and methodological practices of research and evaluation now consolidated – their determination appears more complicated in the case of the use of cultural tangible heritage (museums, archaeological areas, etc.) and participation in artistic and cultural activities. In this case, we speak of community benefits, which imply that the improvement of the cultural baggage of the individual can lead to a diffusion of positive effects for the benefit of the whole community. In particular, community benefits may have on the one hand this specific moral/educational character, while on the other they can be linked to topics such as the development of a critical conscience in individuals and of its ability to construct its own cultural identity.

Continuing our analysis of values associated with heritage, we come to aesthetic, cognitive and political values.

In European culture, mental and emotional values as well as merit judgments on culture are determined by pairs of opposing concepts as presented in the following table.

Table 1. Couples of opposing concepts that generate traditional value judgments on museums.
Source: Author’s elaboration of: S. Pearce, ‘On Collecting: An Investigation into Collecting in the European Tradition’, London: Routledge, 1995, p. 285.

Us

Them

Present

Past

Authentic

Forged

Known

Unknown

Normal

Strange

Art

Non-art

True

False

Extraordinary

Ordinary

Interesting

Boring

Understandable

Incomprehensible

Masterpiece

Artefact

On the left are those aspects that European culture judges positively: we in fact favour what is authentic over to what is not, we feel at ease with what is normal, known and identifiable, we prefer interesting things, we know what it is art and we believe that this notion is closely linked to the concepts of ‘importance’ and ‘masterpiece’.

By widening our perspective, this pattern becomes the representation of a broader juxtaposition between ‘Us’ (which we represent with concepts like normality, authenticity, importance) and ‘Them’ (understood as carriers of non-culture, abnormalities, falsehood), thus assuming also a political value. Obviously, within the society these aesthetic, cognitive and political values are intertwined with each other and it is very difficult to separate one from another and to understand what are the mechanisms according to which they operate.

Diagram 1. Notions of distinctions and difference against the axes of time and space to create sense of US and OTHERS
Source: Pearce, ‘On Collecting’, p. 313.

Among the pairs of opposites that form the merit judgments on culture in the European tradition, the first to be indicated is ‘Us’ vs ‘Them’ = ‘Europeans’ vs ‘Non-Europeans’.[9] It is clear, in fact, that the awareness of oneself occurs through the identification of what is other than us: even if this is true for all human beings, for Europeans this way of perceiving the world is more pronounced and had given life to this system of dichotomies on which it is based.[10]

The perception of value is also an appropriation which implies a distance from something else (the separation between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’). This distance is a cultural distance that operates in the two dimensions of time and space: in our cultural tradition there exists a line that leads us to consider as close and similar what is above the line, and as foreign and far away what is below it.

The differences that constitute the essence of ‘Us’ and ‘Others’ can be identified on two main axes: spatial and temporal (Diag. 1).

The meeting point between the two axes represents the single individual: within a certain distance from both the temporal and spatial axis, we can find all that is familiar to us and belongs to us (family, city, language, traditions and customs, somatic characteristics, religion) while, as we move away from the meeting point, we find what is ‘different’, more alien (as the distance from the meeting point of the two axes is greater).

Beyond the demarcation line within which we are ‘We’ Europeans, we meet in a crescendo of geographic and temporal differences ‘Others’ who are beyond us in geographical terms and before us in temporal terms.

But let us now analyse the values of heritage from a post-structuralist perspective.[11] We know that assets are valued according to extremely different parameters, dependent on the subjective judgment of individuals or groups of individuals. Writers such as Barthes, Foucault and Bourdieau have de-legitimised the idea that value judgments are valid, suggesting that they do not actually reflect objective truths but simply the image of a man who, believing he is observing the outside world, actually observes his own image reflected in a mirror. This is equivalent to saying that there is no objective reality, but that we can all ‘build’ our personal ‘discourses’ in relation to objects and their meanings.[12]

Starting from the distinction made by Saussure between meaning and signifier, Barthes goes beyond questioning the existence of a true and indubitable element (meaning), introducing instead the idea of a continuous flow of meanings that are generated by a third element – the artist/observer.[13] In simple terms, the meaning of the signifier changes with regard to the subject that interprets it.

By widening this concept to the whole field of human disciplines, we arrive at the generic conclusion that there is no objective reality, but a set of different ‘realities’ that depend on who performs the interpretative act and the context in which it occurs.

In our case, it can be said that the interaction between the heritage and the one who uses it determines its meaning. The greatest risk that such a vision of the world implies is that of considering the meaning of each cultural testimony as ‘meaningless’: on the other hand, it is a conception that allows to eliminate the distance between the subject and the object as recognizes the active role that culture plays in our lives.

The post-structuralist attitude towards knowledge allows us to re-interpret the nature of our heritage and our relationship with it. Furthermore, by bridging the gap between the individual and society, it offers us an understanding of individuals who are at the same time forged by society and ‘social norms’ but in part also forge these structures through their actions.

The role of museums in contemporary society

How does the role of museums fit within the framework of the Faro Convention and the principles it bears and the creation of the value we have commented on?

The idea that the cultural and social dimension are closely linked and, more particularly, that cultural policies and institutions can have a positive impact on the lives of individuals and communities is not new and has been entertained in the discussions – generated by the changes to which Western society has been subjected in recent decades – on the role of culture and museums in contemporary society and on their capacity to produce integration, dialogue and social cohesion.

Already in 1970, Alma Wittlin wrote that “Museums do not represent an end in themselves, but rather a means to the service of man and his development”;[14] in 1972 the ICOM – UNESCO conference in Santiago de Chile put the social role of museums at the centre of the discussion among the professionals of the sector, starting a series of reflections, debates and publications on the theme.[15] In the same year, debates took place on the concepts of ‘democratization of culture’ and ‘cultural democracy’, officially launched with the Intergovernmental Conference of European Cultural Ministers promoted by UNESCO in Helsinki in 1972 (which will be discussed later); in those years, phenomena such as social theatre, the movement of community arts in Great Britain (which correspond to the animation socio-culturelle in France and Soziokultur in Germany), and the widespread heritage represented by public art interventions, were born and consolidated and have made the link between cultural heritage and local development more and more explicit.

But it was not until a few years ago that the thesis began taking hold, apparently far more radical, namely that cultural institutions can act as real vehicles to fight social exclusion, meaning by exclusion “a dynamic process that it totally or partially precludes the individual from participating in those social, economic, political and cultural systems that determine his or her integration into society”.[16]

If on the one hand it is the very concept of social integration that has acquired a new value, not related and referable only and exclusively to those categories of non-public that fall within the classical definition of social exclusion – i.e. people with physical, psychological or social disadvantages – but to the community as a whole, on the other hand the idea that cultural institutions in general and museums in particular can become instruments of social integration through a wise use of strategies for access, participation and representation seems to be accepted. In reference to museums, back in 1998 Richard Sandell identified in these mechanisms the main barriers that inhibit their use by the community and individuals.[17]

Access is the first step towards more complex and complex social and cultural inclusion strategies, and demonstrates that cultural institutions are anything but neutral: museums or cultural institutions not involved in breaking down access barriers, actively keep them. Traditionally, access problems have mostly been associated with architectural and financial barriers (which still today still represent one of the main obstacles to participation, especially in the case of ‘disadvantaged’ users), while only recently the focus has been placed on sensorial and cognitive barriers, cultural barriers as well as technological ones (digital divide).

But access, however fundamental, if interpreted as a one-way process, during which cultural institutions open up to audiences other than traditional ones, is not enough. In fact, it is necessary to actively involve these audiences (and more generally the communities) in an effective process of consultation and participatory planning. In order to eliminate barriers to participation (decision-making processes, creative processes, the construction of meanings), cultural institutions have at their disposal a wide range of strategies and practices that are very different from one another, all of them sharing the objective of becoming less self-referential, more rooted in the life of the communities and more open to the needs of their public and different stakeholders.

A further area of exclusion is related to the lack of or distorted representation of certain groups and cultures or ‘sub-cultures’ - for example in museum collections and installations - with the affirmation and promotion of dominant social and cultural values, subordinating or rejecting alternative values. Other barriers can be more directly attributed to the sphere of political decision makers, such as:

1. The lack of resources made available for the development of cultural services accessible to all, and not only to traditionally ‘disadvantaged’ groups

2. Failure to exercise the equalization function against social and territorial imbalances

3. The deliberate choice to keep some cultural services exclusive

4. The emphasis placed on data as unique indicators of success and not, for example, on methodological indicators such as participatory planning and the active involvement of communities or specific community groups.

With specific reference to intercultural dialogue, in May 2008 in Strasbourg the Council of Europe launched a fertile message of profound reflections and guidelines for building democratic, fair and sustainable societies, enhancing the diversity that, today more than ever, features. The message is contained in the White Paper on Intercultural Dialogue – Living together as Equals in Dignity[18]. The preface recognizes as its priority the democratic management of a constantly expanding cultural diversity in Europe – rooted in the history of our continent and amplified by globalization. The questions, the issues to be addressed are complex and demanding and imply, before the operational strategies on how to respond to diversity, a vision of the future. The White Paper provides the vision: it affirms believes that respecting and promoting cultural diversity are the essential conditions for the development of societies based on solidarity and that the common future depends on our ability to protect and develop human rights and to promote mutual understanding. European identity must be based on shared fundamental values, on cultural diversity on respect for our common heritage and the dignity of all. Intercultural dialogue offers the possibility to prevent ethnic, religious, linguistic and cultural divisions and to progress together and recognize our different identities in a constructive and democratic way.

However, intercultural dialogue can only develop under specific conditions.

The White Paper gives some indications to build it: to practice a democratic governance of cultural diversity; strengthening democratic citizenship and participation; teach and develop intercultural skills; create spaces reserved for intercultural dialogue or extend existing ones; finally, to provide intercultural dialogue within an international dimension.

Political decision makers from the post-war period to today have given different answers to the question of what the role of culture in society is or could be: these are responses strongly linked to the issue of legitimizing public spending on culture and which have merged into three broad orientations of policies, effectively summarized in the taxonomy developed by François Matarasso.[19] In the first case, we can speak of a model of ‘development of access’. Widely adopted in Europe between the fifties and sixties of the last century, it is based on the idea of democratization of culture; its objective is to guarantee equal opportunities for access to a single culture that is universally valid through the identification of specific underrepresented groups, the development of activities / programs aimed at promoting their participation, and the removal of specific barriers, whether physical, intellectual, cultural / attitudinal or financial. In many European countries, access development is nowadays an integral part of the activities of almost all cultural institutions, and the principle that public funding entails some duty to widen the relevant public is generally recognized.

The second policy model consists of the instrumental use of cultural initiatives for the achievement of socio-economic objectives. In this model, cultural and social actors identify specific situations of social unease (such as urban degradation, crime, school dropout, unemployment, racism or other forms of discrimination) and develop ad hoc projects to counter them. The most striking form of the ‘socio-economic development’ model is that which combines culture and the arts with urban regeneration processes: alongside this strand, the model in question also includes a wide range of initiatives with social objectives (such as for example the development of self-esteem and specific skills in the individual, or the capacity for self-determination in the communities), aimed at involving the recipients. Even the socio-economic development model presents some risks: among these we mention, for urban redevelopment interventions, the excessive emphasis on short-term environmental and economic impacts to the detriment of social and cultural ones (meaning, by impact on the culture of a place or a community, the impact on lifestyles, identity, heritage and so-called cultural governance, or citizenship, participation, representation, diversity), or failure to achieve financial and social goals however unrealistic; in the case of community development projects, the mediocrity of the final product under the artistic profile, episodic interventions (which hardly leave a permanent trace on the territory and in the life of the communities), and a top-down approach, which often disregards a careful analysis of the needs and expectations of the participants.

The model of ‘cultural democracy’ – officially born at the Intergovernmental Conference on Cultural Policies in Europe promoted by UNESCO in Helsinki in 1972[20] – is based on the assumption that the task of cultural policies is to guarantee equal dignity and opportunities for all citizens and consists in expanding access not only to cultural consumption, as proposed by the two previously illustrated models, but also to production and distribution of culture. The emphasis is therefore placed on the active involvement of individuals, which translates into their opportunity to access culture not only as an audience, but also as actors capable of producing culture, intended as a tool that stimulates creativity and fosters a positive sense of one’s own identity.

At the heart of the cultural democracy model is the concept that in order to truly contribute to the fight against social inequality, cultural institutions have to become more inclusive, through human resource development policies, funding allocation criteria, experimental new partnership modes, the inclusion of new voices, skills and narratives.

One of the most decisive test benches in this regard is the growing social and cultural diversity of Western societies, which requires many institutions to radically revise their policies freed of their former prejudices and beliefs that have traditionally informed them not only about culture and planning, but also the organizational structure. In fact, the most evident data emerging from a review of national and local cultural policies aimed at promoting social inclusion in Europe is the new centrality of issues related to diversity and intercultural dialogue, prompted by the growing migratory pressure.

The three models of policy presented here, far from excluding each other, outline a field of activity and can be creatively combined, provided they meet two basic conditions: 1) that individuals and groups – even those that are clearly disadvantaged – are not stigmatized as a problem, but considered as real resources; 2) that these policies lose their current status of exceptionality and become an integral part of the way of thinking and working of policy makers and cultural operators.

From policy to practice

Promoting not only access but also participation in activities related to heritage and decision-making processes and the representation of communities means, in a word, a serious investment in the processes of audience development understood as a strategic process and dynamics that allows cultural organizations to put the public – seen not only as visitors but also as points of reference – at the centre of their action. On the one hand, in fact, audience development means engaging an increased number of participation and diversification of the population groups that use cultural goods and activities. On the other hand, considering that participatory practices are only one of the two sides of the coin, it means investing in the second aspect linked to participation, i.e. participation in decision-making processes, and representation through which it is possible to complete the vision of the Faro Convention. Here too, audience development is the strategy to focus on, since the third key element on which it is based is precisely that of strengthening the link between cultural institutions and people. The strategies on which culture institution should focus in order to achieve results in this sense are those related to: processes of co-creation; internal and external capacity building (intended to strengthen the capacity of internal staff and communities); collection and analysis of quantitative and qualitative data (on the motivations that push individuals/communities); partnerships with different stakeholders; use of new technologies.[21]

A practical example in this sense is given by the activities carried out in the last twenty years by ECCOM – European Centre for Cultural Organisation and Management[22] which has carried out many projects related to the social role of museums and their link with the diverse components of society, through the capacity building, partnerships, qualitative analysis, use of new technologies, namely:

– LLML – Lifelong Museum Learning – dedicated to train museum professionals in the domain of lifelong learning in informal places such as museums;[23]

– VoCH – Volunteers for Cultural Heritage – which analyses the role of volunteers in the cultural sector and their training needs;[24]

– European Museums and Young People – dedicated to the complex relationship between young people and museums;[25]

– DIAMOND – Dialoguing Museums for a New Cultural Democracy – dedicated to the interaction between science museums and disadvantaged sections of the population through the use of new technologies (Digital Storytelling);[26]

– Museum Mediators – devoted to the professional training of museum operators in dealing with diverse audiences;[27]

– MCP Broker – Brokering Migrants’ Cultural Participation – aimed at developing a benchmark tool for cultural institutions in order to determine their level of openness and accessibility to migrant citizens.[28]

All of them had in common a very similar structure: funded by the EU through different programmes, they were based on a research phase to frame the issue and to provide a theoretical framework about it; a training phase addressed to museum professionals; a publication meant to share the results of the project.

Art Clicks: a specific answer to the call of the White Paper

Art Clicks is the most recent project of ECCOM: it is an ongoing project funded by the Stavros Niarchos Foundation and carried out in partnership with Fondazione MAXXI of Rome.[29] Its aim is that of exploring and building intercultural competences and practices in Italy and in particular in Rome, where different ethnic groups and cultures meet with increasing intensity due to quite recent migration flows. The project has the same basis as the abovementioned ones, but instead of a research phase it has foreseen a planning phase during which, after having attended a training course, participants have planned together intercultural projects to be implemented in their own institutions: the focus here is on co-creation.

It represents the (almost) natural continuation of the previous experiments carried out by ECCOM: the binding thread of all previous projects, which also represents continuity with Art Clicks, is the beneficial role of cultural and artistic experiences in approaching and enhancing diversity and creating those spaces for cultural encounter that anthropologist James Clifford in 1997 defined as ‘contact zones’,[30] contexts of exchange and construction of new relationships based on mutual appreciation.

Art Clicks is the context where 25 people coming from different backgrounds (museums, theatres, libraries, social organisations, schools, students and artists of local and migrant origins) met to exchange ideas, to learn from each other, to devise and to experiment intercultural practices. The objectives were to strengthen the intercultural skills of individuals and their mother institutions or organizations together with their policy on inclusion of migrants and the promotion of active participation of migrants and refugees in the cultural life of the country.

Art Clicks has tried to break the borders (not only between people but also between disciplines), making them areas of contact, safe places for debating and discussing burning issues,[31] anchoring itself to values such as inclusion, dialogue and inter-disciplinarity and re-reading the values traditionally associated with heritage in a post-structuralist key.

This is clearly the only possible way to reconcile a value system based on the contrast between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’ with the one that is founded on the concept of sustainability.

Moreover, within Art Clicks we have also reflected on the concept of community, trying to overcome a contradiction inherent in the Faro Convention: if it is true that the Convention establishes the link between the value of heritage and community, this does not help us to overcome the dichotomous vision of ‘we’ and ‘others’ if the community perceives itself as a closed, immobile, scarcely permeable system.

The only way to affirm and turn into practice the processual, inclusive and dynamic value of cultural heritage from a post-structuralist point of view is to recognize, sustain and reverse those same values as values of the community. This osmosis between individual, community and heritage – seen as open systems – is the only feasible way to achieve the objective of sustainability, not only conceived in its economic and environmental dimensions but also in its social and cultural ones.

Constanze Itzel

Director of the House of European History

EXTENDING TO EUROPE.
THE HOUSE OF EUROPEAN HISTORY IN BRUSSELS

Introduction

An ‘extended museum’– that is what the House of European History can be called in several respects. This article will discuss three main ideas related to this topic. First, how can the European nature of this museum be described? Second, how is it embedded in space, both in its local landscape and in the wider European geographical space? Third, how is European heritage being re-contextualised in this museum?

A European museum[1]
The concept

The House of European History is a museum that opened its doors in Brussels in May 2017. This museum interprets history from a European perspective, connecting and comparing shared experiences and their diverse interpretations. This museum could be easily described as an impossible museum, given that a commonly agreed view on European history does not exist. To complicate matters further, there had been no pre-existing collection of objects, the museum’s exhibition and content would have to be experienced in the 24 languages of the European Union (EU), and would need to be relevant and accessible for 741 million Europeans.

Europe has tens of thousands of museums, but few about its own history, at least not explicitly. The House of European History is the first attempt to present a subject matter as complex as European history in one exhibition narrative. There are books about European history, there are national, regional and local museums, but there had been no museum on European history yet.[2] The aim of this museum is to complement all the other perspectives on history offered in all these other museums by a new one.

Some visitors expect that this would be a museum where the EU defines history. On the contrary, it is a museum – although financed by the European Parliament – which has been entirely built by a team of historians and museum people, without any kind of political influence. We have brought together historians and museum professionals from across Europe in an international team which at present has colleagues from 18 different nationalities.[3]

It was a hard work to agree on a joint narrative.[4] There is no agreed common perception on history in Europe, and experiences of historical events are very different, for example, according to whether people were victims, perpetrators, bystanders according to their nationality and groups they belonged to. This diversity is very difficult to address. Moreover, history museums around Europe are greatly different and so are the expectations of what to find in there. Opinions about the narrative of the permanent exhibition are divided, and so – whilst an outline can be given in this article – readers are encouraged to visit and explore the exhibition in person.

Specifically, the aims underpinning this museum are to bring together the transnational phenomena that have shaped the continent, and to present Europe’s history in a way that conveys a multiplicity of perspectives. The museum thus becomes a forum for learning, reflection, and debate, which documents and preserves European memories of shared historical events, and raises awareness about their variety and diversity.

How did we address the difficult task of squaring the circle, between a unifying narrative for laymen and a representation of diversity of experiences and viewpoints?

A place for debate

The exhibition was conceived based on the awareness that every historical narrative is a construction. This dilemma was placed right at the beginning of the exhibition and we display, from the beginning, a critical approach: We don’t claim to present certitudes; instead we raise questions.

The permanent exhibition starts with a prologue, confronting visitors with seemingly simple but in reality highly complex questions, such as: What is Europe? Can it be geographically defined? Where does its name come from? What is European heritage?

The concept of interpretation is present from the very first room of the exhibition. The first showcase presents the myth of Europa, a mythical Phoenician princess abducted by Zeus which has presumably, according to ancient authors, given the continent its name. This story has been reinterpreted from various points of view over time, and the image of Europe and the bull was used to represent people’s views on Europe and its history throughout the centuries.

1. View of the first exhibition space, Shaping Europe;
© European Union 2018; source: EP

Another showcase elaborates on evolving cartographic representations of Europe. In contrast to other continents, Europe has no natural borders and cannot be clearly defined geographically. Its cartographic image changes with the time period and with the perspective of the beholder. It follows from this that Europe is a separate continent only in the perception; its borders are essentially cultural. Both showcases therefore demonstrate that the way Europe is seen depends on the eye of the beholder, and on the time and geographical standpoint from which he or she judges.

Interpretation is also the theme of the central atrium sculpture, a 25-metre--tall artwork suspended in the staircase and linking five exhibition floors. Its branches carry quotations of contemporary witnesses, philosophers, politicians or historians, who comment on the respective historical period. Together, they result in polyphony of different interpretations and thus portray the discursive character of historiography, a symbolic expression of the dynamic of European history and its never-ending interpretations.

2. View of the World War II section; © European Union 2018; source: EP

Another reflexive meta-level is introduced in a display about European heritage:

In a big showcase dedicated to historical heritage, the House of European History proposes a selection of fourteen phenomena which have been formative for the continent. By juxtaposing these moments, the visitor is asked: Can these developments be considered a distinct European heritage? If so, what parts of this European heritage should we preserve, what do we want to contest?

Finally, the concept of memory is a red thread that comes back four times in our exhibition. It is the appropriate concept to address issues such as the impact of history on the present, the diversity of memories related to one and the same historical event, memory competition and memory conflicts.[5] We explain the ‘operating mode’ of memory and oblivion with the help of different case studies. We show how they can change with the context, how they can be manipulated, and how memory can lead to motivate revenge but also reconciliation. We also examine various different ways of dealing with difficult pasts, be they late recognition of guilt, silence, long-time repression, or even punishment of those who want to remember. Finally, we address the question of shared and divided memory after the fall of the Iron Curtain.

The concept of collective memory is therefore, for us, a significant tool to break up a chronological historical narrative made for laymen by a critical reflection on perceptions of the past.

It is important to stress, notably with a view to the title of this conference, that we have given preference to this critical concept of dealing with the past over the notion of identity. The concept of identity was judged not to be suitable to grasp the complexity of Europe. Also, a common and widely accepted definition of what European identity might be does not really exist.[6] Instead of defining an identity from top down, the House aims to become a hub for dialogue on shared historical events and their diverse perceptions.

Which European history?

Which history does the museum present? The House of European History does not juxtapose national histories. We are often asked whether we have one room per country. But this is exactly not the idea behind the museum. How do we solve the issue of describing history in a European way? The exhibition is based on three criteria: to be originally European; to have spread all over Europe; to be considered as distinctive hallmarks of European culture up to now.[7]

These three criteria were applied to the reading of history and to determine which topics we would present. Therefore, the exhibition does not present a complete history of Europe, but a selection of themes according to these three criteria, a selection of those historical processes that Europeans share. All offers are linked to European History with a strong focus on the twentieth century. There is a small section on the nineteenth century explaining all concepts important for the history of the twentieth century, such as revolutions, national and democratic movements, industrialisation, nationalism, capitalism, or Marxism, followed by four floors of the exhibition about the twentieth century. There is a red thread running through the permanent exhibition about European integration history but it offers many different layers. This makes it possible to tailor a visit to the museum to certain themes, such as migration, the history of Communism, the history of European integration, the history of democracy, international law, etc.

From time to time, the birds’-eye perspective is given up to narrow the focus and look at specific case studies, historical events that had an impact on the whole of Europe, such as the Russian Revolution, the war in former Yugoslavia, or the German Reunification.

The limited space means a selection needed to be made. This limitation can be quite frustrating for some visitors who expect to find certain elements, for example to find their own national history in the exhibition – but although there are many, many elements related to the national history of many countries, we want to leave the narratives about national history to the national museums with their large number of square meters. However, it is important to stress that we do tell our visitors a lot about the history of their countries, alongside others, as explained below, but they are intertwined into a narrative stressing the shared historical processes.

Although a simplified chronological narrative was necessary due to the low overall knowledge of visitors, how does the narrative provide elements of differentiation?

As with many exhibitions, the museological concept foresees a varied experience, a dramaturgy with different moods. But how does the narrative address the diverse content?

As agreed from the exhibition model, the exhibition is layered, giving the visitor an overview in 90 minutes, but for those interested and returning, there are deeper layers with much more detailed information.[8] The visit can therefore be adapted to the interest of the audience. The success of this is proven by the high number of repeat visits to the museum – to quote only one example, one visitor came back five days in a row and stayed one week, after which he stated in the Golden Book he had now seen it all.

3. European Integration history milestones integrated into the overall exhibition narrative; © European Union 2018; source: EP

The chosen approach therefore is the one of a constructivist museum in which knowledge is constructed by the learner according to their own experiences and interests.

The permanent exhibition also offers different micro-narratives, themes recurring across the chronology, which allow for a visit according to certain themes, for example the history of European integration, clearly indicated by the blue recognisable showcases, but also topics such as protest movements, migration, the history of democracy, human rights, international law, and other themes.

But the main approach to addressing the different situations in every country is a juxtaposition of objects or films from different countries, as for example for the events before and in 1989, which are presented as a chain of events through films, the medium of the time and, on the other side, through objects. The texts on the multilingual tablet contribute to specifying the situation in each country, within the overall framework which is the one of shared historical events.

Sometimes, conflicting, even opposing views are presented on several topics, for example on the Maastricht Treaty, on enlargements of the European Union, on the introduction of the Euro, on the financial crisis, or on migrations, where we juxtapose the wish to ‘protect’ and to reinforce the European Union’s external borders with the view of a migrant coming to Lampedusa. At times, specific objects allow for multifaceted interpretations. Thus, a 6-metre-long book, an artwork by the Dutch architect Rem Kolhaas, symbolising the acquis communautaire, can be interpreted as a symbolic representation of the European Union as a community of law, as a symbol of the enormous efforts of transition countries acceding to the European Union, or of countries leaving the European Union, or even as a symbol of the bureaucracy linked to an administration.

To complement the exhibitions, extensive learning offers for school groups of secondary and primary schools have been developed. Programmes for schools comprise workshops around different topics linked to the permanent exhibition, based on a handling collection, for primary schools, or activity sheets for secondary school students. There is a ‘family discovery path’ running through the exhibition, targeting children of 6 to 10 years of age.

Through these learning offers, the House of European History strives to accentuate a European dimension in debating about history, and to build a bridge to questions relevant for today’s Europe. All learning resources are available online in the 24 official languages of the European Union.[9] In addition, the cultural programmes and events, such as history debates, always try to bring together experts or artists from different parts of Europe.

A European museum in its local and wider environment

If we look at the idea of an extended museum, brought forward in the ICOM’s “Resolution No. 1”: The Responsibility of Museums Towards Landscape,[10] several remarks can be made in relation to the House of European History and its environment.

After having hosted first a zoo and an English-style park, the Leopold Park surrounding the museum was a scientific park created at the end of the nineteenth century, hosting institutes of physiology, hygiene, anatomy, sociology, and a school of commerce.[11] The building of the museum itself was a former dental clinic for disadvantaged children, donated by Georges Eastman from Eastman Kodak as part of a charity at a time when dental care was not systematically reimbursed by social security. The building was originally constructed in 1933–5. It hosted the dental clinic and was later turned into a multipurpose building used by the European institutions.

Rented in 2008 by the European Parliament for 99 years, the building was subsequently adapted for museum purposes, filling in the courtyard and adding two floors. The architecture was designed by an international consortium of architects and builders under the leadership of Chaix & Morel and JWD Architekten.[12]

4. The renovated former Eastman Clinic in the Leopold Park; © European Union 2018; source: EP

During the renovation, care was taken to preserve, and to clean, as much as possible the original parts of the art deco building.[13] The architecture was designed to integrate harmoniously with the old building.[14] Wall paintings in the former waiting room for children, created in the 1930s by Camille Barthélemy, were deposited, restored, and re-installed on the site.[15] For the opening of the museum, the surrounding park was improved with firmer, better pathways. Signage in the park, explaining the history of the park and of its buildings, was put up.

What is more, a reference to the original purpose of this building was integrated into the part of the exhibition dealing with the improvement of living conditions after WW2: While no original furniture of the Brussels Eastman Clinic has been preserved, a dental chair for children originating from the Eastman Clinic in Stockholm, founded in 1936, reminds the donations of Georges Eastman.[16]

Through its creation and the general animation of the area thanks to its visitors, notably during the nights, the museum has contributed to enhancing the quality of the surrounding park, and of the European Quarter, a district with a concentration of office buildings which presented security problems at night.

Looking at the wider context, the museum is located in the European Quarter of Brussels, in the vicinity of European institutions such as the European Commission, European Parliament, European Council and Council of the European Union. This area has the advantage that we can connect the history of Europe, notably the history of the more recent decades of European Union history, with the political reality around the museum that can be seen from its upper floors. Staff and politicians working for the European institutions are thus one of the natural communities of the museum, although not the main ones. Many links to this environment have been established: visitors can combine their visit to the museum with the visit to a political institution. Events and learning programmes contribute to linking European history to the political discussions about Europe’s future.

It is clear, however, that if as a museum we are meant to link up with our local environment, the idea set out in the initial concept is also that the museum exists for all Europeans.[17] This has obviously entailed some challenges.

First of all, the museum is located very far in the West of Europe, but also it is hard to imagine a wider and more diverse community than all Europeans and also new immigrants. This is reflected by the wide variety of reactions to our museum.

To address this issue, we have had to be innovative. For our first temporary exhibition, we had created a website through which visitors could feed content into the museum from anywhere in the world. Visitors were asked to present their connections with other parts of Europe and the world, and the results were mapped in the exhibition on a colourful digital map. The data could be researched afterwards to reveal interesting relations and patterns of European behaviour. This map has been since integrated into the permanent exhibition – it can bring user-generated content directly into the exhibition[18].

The museum will further invest in offers allowing reaching out beyond its walls. A study about audience development will be carried out in order to explore how new audiences can be acquired. Extending the museum offers to Europe is a long process which has only just started. Because of its limited resources, the museum will search for partnerships around Europe to cooperate on European history across the continent.

A European collection

The Shenzhen Declaration on Museums and Collections has called, among other things, for museums to develop as sites for international dialogue and for inclusive discourses around heritage.[19]

In this context, it is interesting to mention the collection that has been brought together in the House of European History in Brussels. No prior collection was available, so all the objects which are on display in the House of European History had to be borrowed, bought or acquired as a donation. The objects were researched after the historical narrative had been defined. The aim was not simply to find the right objects to illustrate the messages of this narrative, but also to bring together a collection of European significance. This was not an easy task, as not all museum collections are digitised and available online. Travelling to museums was necessary, as well as the help of researchers on site and of curators of potential lenders.

5. A European collection in the section “Europe – a Global Power”; © European Union 2018; source: EP

The House of European History’s collection is not supposed to duplicate any national collection, but to collect items that are not collected by any other museum or archives, for example on the history of the European integration process and of the European Union. Collecting during the first years was targeted towards the exhibitions, but contemporary collecting actions were also carried out, for example, when the European Union received the Nobel Peace Prize in 2012.

As a result, more than 1000 objects from over 300 lenders in 37 countries were brought together in Brussels for the permanent and first temporary exhibition. Covering the same topic, for example, on national and democratic movements in the nineteenth century, objects from Portugal, Ireland, Poland, and Hungary are displayed together in one showcase. Nowhere else in Western Europe can one see in such an extensive way Polish, Hungarian or Slovak objects, to name but a few.

This new contextualisation leads to an interesting change in meaning.[20] An object which previously could have been symbolic for a particular national history is now embedded into a European context. Hence it has become representative for transnational historical phenomena. The object is also, very often, ‘confronted’ with similar objects from other countries, and is therefore turned into part of a story about similarities, connections and mutual influence, rather than representing a fixed, bounded entity.[21]

The museum has engaged in a series of public events in which artists and historians of different origins are invited to interpret the permanent exhibition from their personal perspective. As an example, we arranged ‘Daydreaming Nations’ tours, given by thirteen historians, journalists, writers, and filmmakers who guided the audience through European history, with a focus on the topic of the birth of nine new states – Austria, Hungary, the Kingdom of Yugoslavia, Czechoslovakia, Poland, Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, and Finland – in the aftermath of the First World War.[22] This type of event will be repeated in 2019 to remember the events around the fall of the Iron Curtain in 1989.

About one single topic – the emergence of new nation states in 1918 – thirteen totally different stories were told, based on very different selections of objects and exhibition rooms. Another event, the ‘European Story Series’, brought poets to the exhibitions which guided the public on a very personal journey through European History.[23] Therefore, if the newly contextualised objects take on a new meaning – we could potentially speak of an ‘Europeanisation’ of their significance.

The biggest potential of the House of European History lies probably not in a renegotiation of cultural heritage with the aim of creating a unified European identity, which would be utopian, but in visualising the diversity of meanings that its content has for different communities; in raising curiosity for the other, and enhancing understanding.

Events such as this are a realisation of the museum’s mission to engage into multiperspectivity and to enhance debate about what in European history is shared and what divides Europeans. The diversity of choices therefore hinted also at the process of construction of significance[24] by the museum’s users.

Conclusion: A museum under constant construction

To conclude, it needs to be pointed out that the exhibition will never be a satisfactory whole for all visitors in all their diversity. No matter how many themes we add, there will always be some missing. Our exhibition will also never be totally finished. One reason is that the objects on loan have different durations and are constantly being exchanged. This means that we can create vivid examples of European diversity by switching, for a certain theme, from Swiss objects to Polish to French ones, or vice versa. On the other hand, the historical narrative will be evaluated and will evolve over time based on this evaluation. If the museum has managed to create a contribution to the discussion about what Europe, what European history, and what European heritage actually are, it has fulfilled its most important mission.

Paweł Kowal

Institute of Political Studies, Polish Academy of Sciences
Centre for East European Studies, University of Warsaw

EIGHT AXES OF DEBATE ON THE PRESENTATION OF EUROPEAN HISTORY AT THE HOUSE OF EUROPEAN HISTORY

Introduction

The House of European History (HEH) has provoked one of the most heated debates on the presentation of the Polish history in the context of Europe and the possibility of creating a ‘common’ historical narrative. This debate involved Polish historians, writers and politicians as well as two Polish academics – significant and widely recognised researchers of contemporary times who participated in the process of creating the exhibition at the House of European History.

Professor Włodzimierz Borodziej, a historian from the University of Warsaw, has been a member of the HEH Council and headed its Scientific Committee. In his statements, Borodziej defended the content of the HEH exhibition and explained the context accompanying its design. Professor Wojciech Roszkowski, a member of the HEH Council, spoke out critically against the exhibition. The discussion was also attended by a dozen or so people involved in the production of historical exhibitions in Poland as well as journalists. Several dozen articles and press interviews were published.

This paper is intended to present the main axes of the dispute about historical issues that have emerged in the Polish expert community in the context of the opening of the HEH exhibition. Thus, I focus on the main points of contention between Poland and the outside world in relation to the presentation of historical issues. At this juncture, however, it is worth clarifying that the discussion was largely based on the assumption that a Polish or an expanded variant of a Central-European vision of history, and an opposing Western-European vision of history do in fact exist.

Actually, the fundamental issue that has been overlooked is that the different visions of history of various Western countries, as well as internal discussions in those countries can be, and indeed are, very serious. In this discussion, a basic methodological issue was overlooked, namely that the history of European countries is studied and interpreted on the basis of a system of concepts related to the existence of nation states. This hampers to a large extent any comparative approaches. I raise these objections for the sake of further discussion and its better understanding. I am aware that journalistic discussion requires a simplified, schematic way of formulating arguments which does not change the fact that journalism should be seen as a valuable source in the study of ideas.

There are a few other caveats that are vital to understanding the debate that has taken place: in Poland, historical policy issues are widely discussed, magazines specialising in historical issues are particularly popular and have a large readership, practically all major opinion weeklies and newspapers feature historical supplements. Over the last 15 years, around fifty museums and new narrative exhibitions focusing on contemporary history have opened in Poland. The question of how the history of Poland and the global role of Poles are presented is part of the lively political debate and has been brought up, for a number of years, as the key element of subsequent election campaigns.

For each of the main arguments, the debate’s participants saw the potential parties to the dispute – namely themselves and their adversaries – somewhat differently. It was also obvious that the participants referred to the case’s chosen aspects. As far as placing oneself on the axis of ideological/political divisions was concerned, sometimes it was a dichotomy: left-right, sometimes East-West, sometimes liberal-conservative, sometimes defined on the basis of other divisions.

Main axes of the dispute

Below, I present eight issues around which the authors – the Polish participants of the debate – disagreed upon or which were treated as potential areas of misunderstanding between Poland and Europe.

1. A ‘starting point’ for the history of contemporary Europe. The controversial point was the answer to the question what values and trends lay at the basis of contemporary European consciousness. One side insists on the issues of religion and philosophy, the other – of revolution and social change. In this case, therefore, we can talk about the opposing conservative approach and the affirmation of the revolution.

2. The question of the origin of European values in a historical context. Critics of the House of European History emphasise the absence of such trends as the Renaissance and the reduction of European history to revolution and its consequences in the approach of museum’s creators.

3. The role of revolution in European history. In this case, the ‘Western’ and ‘Eastern’ approaches or, more broadly, the ‘Eastern’ and ‘Central European’ approaches were outlined more clearly. In the perception of the ‘East’, the ‘West’ aims at the idealization of revolution as the flywheel of social change and progress. The ‘East’ displays reluctance towards revolution, emphasises the importance of continuity and evolution. This strand of the debate is not surprising in the slightest; it stems directly from the experience of communism and corresponds with the post-Yalta division of Europe.

4. The significance of left-wing ideologies such as communism and Marxism. One side sees them as the source of freedom, especially in the social dimension – women’s rights, and so on. This trend should also include the supporters of the nuancing of the importance of Marxism in European history. The other side of the debate sees it as an intellectual or even direct source of totalitarianisms.

5. The importance of religion, Christianity. One party sees Europeans as people who have grown out of religion (religion as the basic experience of building a European identity), the other – as liberating themselves from religion (religion as oppression).

6. The consequences of World War II. In the context of the HEH debate, ‘the West’ is seen as understanding WWII as significant, but comparable to other events of the twentieth century, especially WWI. In relation to this approach, Central and Eastern European nations, and especially Poland, emphasise the uniqueness of WWII experience as compared to other historical events, based on the scale of its atrocities and consequences.

7. The meaning of the Cold War. On the one hand, we are dealing with a kind of historical symmetrism, i.e. an attempt to show the motives of both sides: the West and the USSR as equivalent political forces that played an equal part in fuelling the political conflict. The consequence of such symmetrical approach is that 1989 is hardly recognised as the beginning of freedom. On the other hand, the Cold War is perceived as a contemporary moral war between the forces of good and evil. This is an approach closer to the American approach and as its result, the significance of the end of the communist period ‘gains’ importance.

8. The overall role of Central and Eastern Europe in the history of European continent. There is a conviction among the critiques of the HEH exhibition that the importance of the region in the history of Europe has been diminished, that there is little knowledge of the history of the Eastern part of the continent in the West, etc.

Specific issues

The HEH debate in Poland raised a number of specific issues, either resulting from the above eight points or from the approach to the exhibition seen from the specific Polish angle. As an example, I am quoting two such problem areas, which, from the Polish perspective, are of considerable importance:

– The role of Józef Piłsudski in history. The creators of HEH place him alongside fascist and authoritarian leaders. In the context of traditional Polish historiography, such a move is difficult to accept due to Piłsudski’s role in Poland regaining independence in 1918, a fact deeply rooted in the consciousness of the Poles. Critics of the HEH approach stress that Piłsudski was not a fascist and should not be presented in the context of fascist leaders of the time. This can be understood only based on knowledge of Polish historiography: we can observe a high level of mythologization of Piłsudski in Poland; it should be assumed that he was an authoritarian leader, but not a fascist.

– The role of Pope John Paul II in the processes of overthrowing communism, the unification of Europe, etc. The Museum either diminishes or omits his role and the exhibition does not pay attention to the political significance of JPII on a global scale. Hence, the critics of the exhibition emphasise that JPII was instrumental in the break-up of the totalitarian system. In this case, in light of contemporary source research, the critics are right. It is worth noting, however, that the insufficient consideration of the role of the Polish Pope is basically a consequence of the critical approach towards the part played by religion in the shaping of European history and identity.

Research conclusions and recommendations for future research

One can risk the hypothesis that Poland is one member state of the EU where the HEH exhibition caused the most vivid interest and lively disputes. The authors of the HEH exhibition should carefully analyse the course of the Polish debate, which in itself demonstrates how narrative historical museums can play an important role in contemporary politics. This, however, leads to the conclusion that it is necessary to expand political science research on historical museums as an expression, but also means of the creation of contemporary interpretations of history. One of the most interesting issues is the importance that the debate’s participants attach to the representations of contemporary history as the source of legitimacy of the European project.

Katharina Küster

University of Art and Design in Karlsruhe

A MATTER OF DIRECTION?
MUSEUM OCCUPATIONS BETWEEN RESISTANCE AND COMPLICITY

When I read two of the quintessential questions raised by the Open Call for this conference, I was surprised by the perspective they stem from. While one of them asked “How are museums influencing the cultural, social, economic or political identity of the area and society they are situated in?”, a second one intended to discuss how “museums react to financial dependencies or state-ideologies”.[1] This set of questions suggests a deterministic trajectory which operates according to a top-down principle: While museums are influenced by the state and different sponsors, they in turn affect the social and political identity of the society they are located in. The following essay discusses the possibility of reversing this perspective by drawing on three different case studies in which specific parts of the public made attempts to take over the physical space of the museum, thus intending to change the direction of impact in a bottom-up sense.

The public’s recurring attempt to ‘conquer’ the art museum is closely related to a paradox which, according to art historian Linda Nochlin, has always been inherent in the idea of the institution: “As the shrine of an elitist religion and at the same time a utilitarian instrument for democratic education, the museum may be said to have suffered from schizophrenia from the start”.[2] Nochlin, among others,[3] describes the art museum as an inherently bourgeois territory which is constantly contradicting itself by the democratic intention to involve diverse publics and lower classes. Taking the Louvre as an example, Nochlin discusses how the revolutionary transformation of former palaces to public art institutions only marked the beginning of the contradictory correlations between museums and its publics: The Louvre was still regarded as a symbol of aristocratic representation and privilege during the February Revolution in 1848, when the populace took over the museum following the battle cry “We shall never get rid of kings till we pull down the palaces”.[4] Nochlin thus asserts that political resistance within art museums had little to do with the aesthetic qualities of the presented works but rather with the social and political implications of the institution itself. With its symbolic power, the art museum functions as a significant bastion of what Antonio Gramsci calls a ‘war of position’, thereby implying the importance of cultural institutions and traditions for the creation as well as the contestation of hegemonic power within civil society. [5]

Building upon Gramci’s and Nochlin’s historical groundwork, this essay will be discussing three more recent case studies in which art institutions were temporarily and symbolically appropriated in order to use them for political demands. Intending to provide an insight into different constellations of actors, motivations and approaches, I chose three rather distinct examples. Besides the fact that they all took place at renowned art institutions in European cities, they seem to have little in common. While the examples cover a time span from 1921 to 2012, the duration of the actions ranges from a few minutes to several weeks and the key actors vary between unemployed workers and artists. Despite these differences, in each case the art museum was considered a potentially productive stage for political resistance. Therefore, each of them may be read as a paradigmatic proof of the museum’s relation to radical activist practices within its specific institutional, political and historical framework. In the following, I will first contextualise the case studies before focusing on the increasing entanglements of institutional and activist practices.

The attempted occupation: Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool, 1921

“I think we’ll go for a walk”, he suggested. “A short walk. It’s too late for anything else. We’ll all be art critics this afternoon. We’ll go across and have a look at the pictures in the Art Gallery. Those places are as much for us as anybody else. They belong to the public”.[6]

The first of my three case studies took place in a city that is commonly known for its working-class uprisings. Besides a radical-militant period in the 1980s in which the people of Liverpool stood up to the conservative Thatcher administration, the city’s reputation of being ‘a hotbed of militancy’[7] goes far back in history and is closely tied to fights and strikes for union recognition. Once a thriving port city which benefited immensely from Britain’s imperialist supremacy, colonial relations and slave trade, Liverpool had attracted streams of migrants from Ireland and other parts of Europe from the eighteenth century on. However, towards the end of the nineteenth century, employment numbers in construction and most areas of manufacture either stagnated or declined, foreshadowing the city’s upcoming economic decay which was also fuelled by the inter-war recession.[8] It was within this political climate and with strong support from the newly formed Communist Party that the National Unemployed Workers’ Committee Movement (NUWCM) was founded in 1920. Their main demand was a significant raise of Poor Law Relief in order to be able to stay out of the ‘work houses’ – state institutions which traded food and shelter for work under most undignified conditions.[9] The movement planned to make their voices heard by rendering mass unemployment and poverty visible within the territories of the upper class, namely the main shopping areas and public spaces in the city centre.[10]

The first protest march of the NUWCM took place in 1921 and led to the ‘Exchange Flags’, a space in front of the town hall, which was theoretically open for the general public but practically reserved for “the well-dressed merchants and brokers [and therefore] a forbidden ground to the city’s working men”.[11] While the gathering of around 10,000 members of the Committee remained politically ineffective – the mayor didn’t offer anything to the crowd but a reassuring smile from the balcony of the town hall – the large number of people united for the cause motivated them to organise another march which took place just a few days later. This time, the city’s main street, a luxury shopping area was turned into a site of protest by 20,0000 unemployed persons, who peacefully marched up and down the store fronts, following a Committee member’s convincing appeal: “The shoppers won’t believe there is so much poverty in the city unless you show them”.[12]

As a third site of protest, the NUWCM chose St Georges Plateau. Since the public square is located in between the concert hall, the central library, the Liverpool Museum and the Walker Art Gallery, it may be regarded as Liverpool’s centre in terms of high culture. Due to the unemployed’s frustration with the fact that the mayor was still not willing to receive the Committee in person or to succumb to any of the protesters’ demands, one of them spontaneously suggested to occupy the Walker Art Gallery. Instead of peacefully lingering on the public square in front of it, he headed towards the gallery, proclaiming that “Those places are as much for us as anybody else. They belong to the public”.[13]

Even though he might not have been fully conscious of it at the time, the speaker thereby addressed a crucial point of the museum’s history: as the gallery was being planned about fifty years earlier, there had been a heated debate about whether or not it should be paid for with public funds. In fact, many critics had addressed pressing social projects which they regarded to be far more urgent than the erection of another bastion of bourgeois pleasure. However, a significant donation by the Liverpudlian brewery owner Andrew Barclay Walker paired with the Liberals’ conviction that places of culture and education might encourage a mingling of different social groups had finally enabled the opening of the museum in 1877.[14] The claim to the art gallery and its treasures by the NUWCM in 1921 therefore has to be situated within this broader perspective. As a matter of fact, the museum was supposed to be open to the public – and to all parts of it – but social reality suggested otherwise: the gallery was considered to be a space of distinction, designated to the upper class of Liverpool. Therefore, it did not come as a surprise that the state authority violently intervened when some of the Committee members decided to appropriate what has been claimed to be theirs in the first place: the territory of the gallery.

Most of the unarmed protesters were taken to the hospital that day and all of them were brought to trial as a consequence. Interestingly though, public opinion as well as the judges were in favour of the protesters. That the Committee’s action did not actually pose a threat to the museum or its artworks was later verified through the judge’s critique of the police intervention, who called the used violence ‘most unnecessary’ and ‘disquieting’.[15] According to museum theorist Suzanne MacLeod, “the choice of site for the protest amplified the brutality of the attack on the protesters, placing them [the protesters] very much on the moral high ground”.[16] Indeed, the incident does expose an intrinsic paradox of the art museum: its fundamental claim of being for the public – specifically in its liberal guise as a space of democratic principles and humanist convictions – has been questioned and put to the test through its attempted occupation by the unemployed.

The accepted occupation: Palais des Beaux-Arts, Brussels, 1968

The Free Assembly, which occupies the Palais des Beaux-Arts in Brussels on this Thursday, 30 May 1968, declares that its activities will be carried out through the solidarity action of all artists, regardless of their disciplines and without any kind of aesthetic or linguistic discrimination.[17]

While the Liverpool case was initiated by actors who were in no way affiliated with the art world, the upcoming example was headed by renowned artists and may therefore be considered much rather a fight on common ground. As in the Liverpool case, the decision to occupy the art institution was deeply embedded in a series of events: May 1968 is considered to be the epitome of the 1960s students’ revolts. While protests associated with the Vietnam war, civil rights movements, and the democratization of education occurred in countless countries throughout the decade, the revolts in Paris have become especially notorious. The situation culminated in the erection of street barricades, a general strike with around ten million participants, the temporary closure of a number of French Universities, and a serious political crisis.[18]

Sparked off by different students’ protests which demanded a profound democratization of the University system, the Paris uprisings quickly spread to the French provinces as well as the neighbouring countries. From the end of May until mid-July 1968, students of the Université Libre de Bruxelles took direct action by occupying the University. Inspired by the students’ initiative, some Brussels artists decided to join in by adding concerns about cultural policy and institutions to the field of action.

Directly after having decided on the occupation of the Palais des Beaux-Arts (Bozar)[19] in a café nearby, about fifty people – among them renowned poet and artist Marcel Broodthaers – entered the sculpture hall of the institution, putting up banners saying ‘No to class culture’ and ‘Fighting the cultural politics of the country’. There are varying and partly contradictory accounts of how the occupation of the Bozar was formed and what its concrete aims were. This scientific uncertainty might be seen as proof of the different groups’ conflicting perspectives and interests at the time. The requests can roughly be divided into three different categories: One of them was a broad critique of Belgian cultural policy.[20] A second one underlined the occupiers’ solidarity with the students’ actions at the University, demanding a radical transformation of the educational system.[21] A third one aimed at the freedom of artistic articulation – a Flemish writer and one of the occupation’s initiators was being prosecuted for sexual explicitness.[22] As the Dutch Days[23] were taking place at the Bozar at the time, one of the few things which were agreed upon was that the protests should in no way be associated with the disputes over linguistic imperialism which were stirring up the country, especially its Flemish parts.[24]

There were also differing opinions on the role of the Bozar within this set of criticism. The Bozar had been designed as a multi-purpose art centre in the 1920s, which was supposed to function as a link both between commercial and cultural life as well as between the upper and the lower part of the city. As such, its anti-elitist, social function had already been inscribed in its initial foundations. While one artist nevertheless accused the institution of being a symbol of the capitalist bourgeoisie, criticizing the collectors’ influence on the exhibition programme as well as the prices for entrance tickets and catalogues,[25] the majority of the activists considered the museum rather as a partner in crime: in a treaty between the occupiers and the institutional representatives, it was agreed upon that the occupation would be limited to one hall, thereby guaranteeing that the exhibition and its programme would not be disturbed in any way.[26]

When the administration of the Bozar realized that the protest was mostly directed against cultural and educational policy in general rather than against the occupied institution itself, the director decided to support the presence of the activists: he actively kept the police from clearing the building,[27] being well aware of the negative press such a scene would trigger. As a result, the occupation was kept up, a temporary physical structure was built[28] which turned the central hall into a forum and a working space for various commissions, in which general topics such as artistic education, public art, and the status of the artist within society were discussed.[29] The relationship between the Bozar’s director and the artists remained on a highly cooperative level throughout the occupation, the institution even provided the latter with necessary materials such as typewriters and paper. Both parties even co-organized an event which took place at the end of the Dutch Days.[30] The press on the other hand began to attack the occupation after a couple of days and demanded the Bozar to put an end to the situation.[31] By 10 June, both parties came to the mutual agreement that the occupation would officially end but that the artists could remain inside the space for three more months. Paradoxically, the cooperative relationship between the occupants and the administration rendered the opponent intangible, which led to a situation in which the discrepancies within the group itself suddenly seemed to be more profound than that between the occupiers and the occupied. Internal disagreements between more radical and more moderate fractions as well as the fact that some of the most popular members of the movement – such as Roger Somville and Marcel Broodthaers – distanced themselves from the common cause contributed to the slow dissolution of the occupation only a week after its initiation. The last occupants voluntarily left the building in September.[32] Thus, the current director of the Bozar, Paul Dujardin, asserts that “through dialogue, the Palais managed to skilfully neutralise the protest”,[33] suggesting that a more antagonistic situation might have led to a higher effectiveness of the occupation – especially on a symbolic level and in regard to the public perception of the event.

Instead of relying on activist protest, Marcel Broodthaers decided to take another path, namely his famous piece Musée d’Art moderne, dpt. des aigles, which can be considered as a direct result of the Bozar occupation, its prolongation by other means.[34] In opposition to the attempted ‘commoning’ of the only institution of modern art in Brussels, he established his own, fictitious museum: rather than directly contesting authorities like the ministry of culture, he consequently decided to appropriate their language, even going as far as to formulate the invitation to the opening of his museum under the name of the Cabinet of Cultural Affairs.[35]

The invited occupation: Berlin Biennale, Berlin, 2012

“All decisions will be made by the assemblea, which includes and embraces former curators, directors, workers, and the entire KW community”. We also proposed that “All... decisions pertaining to finance from the German Government [would] be made by the assemblea and mapped [retroactively] in complete transparency from the beginning of the biennial to the end”.[36]

Another leap in time: It is 2011 as the artist Noah Fischer writes the first manifesto for the newly initiated New York activist group Occupy Museums (OM). Drawing from his experiences within the Occupy Wall Street movement, he points to the direct connection between high finance and high culture, both of which according to Fischer, represent the interests and convictions of the mere one percent.[37] Claiming to occupy museums in order to have art bring people of all classes together instead of drawing them apart, to fight elitism as well as the commodification of art by means of a speculative art market, and to stand up for better working conditions in the cultural sector, a number of interventions followed. They took place most prominently in front of major art museums and institutions in New York City. A variety of similar activist initiatives arose during that time, but in contrast to OM they were much more focused on specific topics, such as the fight for a termination of British Petrol’s sponsoring of the Tate Britain (Liberate Tate) or the awareness of the working conditions related to the construction of major art museums in the Gulf States (G.U.L.F.).

Not even a year after OM’s initiation, the 7th Berlin Biennale (27 April – 1 July 2012) with its headquarters in the renowned Berlin art institution KW Centre for Contemporary Art (KW) invited the collective as well as Occupy Wall Street and other related initiatives, such as the preceding Spanish anti-austerity movement Indignados, to ‘occupy’ the art event. The curatorial team – namely artist Artur Żmijewski and curator Joanna Warsza – was in favour of an artistic and curatorial practice which “is not hollow but critical, which does not produce pseudo-critique but actually aims to transform and organize”,[38] in order to break with the elitist system from which art originated. The invited activists thus occupied the central hall of the KW and plastered the walls with banners and posters stating ‘This is not our museum, this is your action space’, alongside other claims such as ‘Power to the people’ or ‘Stop war’. The space contained all the necessary infrastructure for a long term stay, including a major assembly space and adjacent rooms for cooking and sleeping as well as working materials. Despite the activists’ repeated invitation to join them and their discussions, most of the visitors (including myself) stayed on a viewing platform somewhat distanced from the scene. From there, one had a comprehensive view of the setting: members of different political movements were working on their computers, spray painting the walls, and advertising the political cause of their individual groups.

While it was the curators’ intention to include different political movements into the realm of the art museum in order to “make this space obviously political”,[39] promising them complete autonomy in regard to their action within as well as against the institution, the invited activists themselves were not so much looking for political action as for public representation, primarily hoping to attract new followers and to expand the dialogue with similar activist groups.[40]

The press and art public were mostly sceptical concerning the political potential of the event. Various authors of the art magazine Texte zur Kunst[41] described the occupation as ‘idle’ and ‘clichéd’: while Sven Lütticken compared it to colonial ‘human zoos’ of the nineteenth century,[42] Kerstin Stakemeier and Johannes Paul Raether conceived it as “completely isolated from the political reality which organized and financed the Biennale”. The authors claimed that the art event would have been a lot more meaningful if it had addressed its own role within the art scene, as well as its national and corporate funding and the political implications that these dependencies imply.[43] Kunstforum stated that the project had ‘failed reality’, because it remained too vague in regard to content-related as well as formal questions.[44] Also, Frieze found a poignant comparison for the irreconcilable chasm between effective political action and aesthetic representation: “the 7th Berlin Biennale has so far generated more smoke than fire”.[45]

After this heated debate had already reached its peak, OM arrived in Berlin.[46] While the other Occupy offshoots mainly used the main space of the KW to advertise their cause or plan activities and interventions outside of the museum, Occupy Museums may be regarded as the only group that had already gained experience in addressing both institutional practices within the art field and the political, social, and economic problems that often accompany them.[47] As a first step, they decided to move out of the staged activist camp and to relocate their gathering place to the courtyard of the museum which offered a more egalitarian architecture and prevented the visitors from peaking down on the activists from an elevated platform. Even though – or because – the members of OM were well aware of the contradictory nature of being invited to occupy,[48] a part of the group decided to explicitly address the structure of their host institution after a general meeting between the activists, the curators and the KW staff, including guards and administrators. A profound lack of transparency in the decision making and budgeting processes as well as problematic working conditions – especially those of the museum guards – triggered the decision to ‘horizontalize’ the power structure of the biennial. OM’s proposal demanded that all decisions must be agreed upon by the General Assembly, which included everyone employed by the institution, and, in consequence, that the curators should symbolically resign.[49] As this ‘Horizontalization Process’ was put into action shortly before the end of the biennial and was therefore limited to a week, it mainly involved the organization of different working groups, which took a closer look at media communication, the organization of interventions, the spatial organization of the museum, and transparency regarding budgetary decisions. While these egalitarian structures and alternative processes dissolved soon after the stated time frame of one week, one lasting result was the raise of the guards’ wages by 30 per cent, and the promise to involve them more closely in decisions concerning their own role and responsibilities in the future.[50] Another outcome was the resignation of some of the KW employees – among them the head of the press department. As Żmijewski stated retrospectively: “Political reality is brutal – after this experience KW went back to its former shape quite fast. But a few of the permanent KW employees decided to quit their job. After the experience which they had during BB7 they were not able to continue work under the same conditions”.[51]

Consensual dissensus?

As the three distinct case studies have sufficiently shown, museums have always been deeply embedded in and affected (or should one rather say: attacked?) by the social and political realities they found themselves in.

In the case of Liverpool, the art gallery was considered a stronghold of the bourgeoisie by the unemployed workers. Due to their explicit attempt at making their ‘private’ affairs visible to the upper class, the NUWCM turned the museum into a stage for a form of politics, which, according to Jacques Rancière, “revolves around what is seen and what can be said about it, around who has the ability to see and the talent to speak, around the properties of spaces and the possibilities of time”.[52] The occupation of the art gallery has therefore enabled a “transgressive appearance of unauthorized speakers on the public stage”.[53] For Rancière, an occupation is one of various political strategies that enable this kind of political appearance, one which is marked by its disruptive qualities: it disturbs the symbolic configuration which separates noise and discourse, it breaks with the material and symbolic distribution of roles within the territory of the occupied space.[54] The protesters’ appropriation of the territory of the museum thus has to be considered as a deliberate provocation of the museum’s deeply democratic foundation which is thereby exposed as an explicit but unfulfilled promise: through the disruption of the subconscious norms of the gallery and the subsequent brutal reaction of the police, it was not only the bodies and demands of the unemployed that became visible. The shattered attempt to lay public claim to an institution which was supposed to be for the whole public in the first place revealed the exclusive and elitist social reality of the art museum. As such, the event may be considered an act of ‘re-publication’, a moment in which the political function of the art museum was called upon and therefore temporarily realized through profound “dissensus”.[55]

Forty-seven years later, the occupation of the Brussels Bozar might be considered far more successful on a pragmatic level. The Bozar’s self-perception as a progressive art centre played a crucial role within its occupation in 1968: instead of protecting the institution and its programme by calling the police or attempting to negotiate the occupiers’ withdrawal, the director not only accepted their presence but actively supported it. The fact that the majority of the protesters left the art centre a long time before the administration’s ultimatum, suggests that the active dissolution of the antagonistic and disruptive dimension normalized the protest to the extent that it was no longer maintainable. Having been absorbed by the institution, some of the participating artists even decided to abandon civil protest altogether, relocating their critical endeavours from the public into the aesthetic sphere, as exemplified by the case of Marcel Broodthaers.

Again forty-four years later, the desirability of activist interventions within art institutions becomes most obvious. As a contemporary exhibition format which is dedicated to the accumulation of diverse perspectives from artistic, sociological, and political disciplines, biennials have come to be associated with a political agency that critically addresses the geopolitical and social realities they are situated in.[56] Furthermore, following the artistic legacy of Institutional Critique, progressive curatorial practices have developed a tendency towards self-reflection, trying to maintain a critical distance to the art field in general and to the concrete practices of their institution specifically.[57] Inviting political movements to occupy one’s own biennial, as was the case at the Berlin Biennale, thus seems to perfectly fit both of these trends and can be considered a crucial step in regard to the conflation of the elitist art field with the public sphere and its conflicts. However, the simple translation of activist politics into the realm of the white cube, coupled with the institution’s architectural setting and cultural practices of observation, met strong resistance within the art public. The mode of ‘as if’, which is necessarily implied by the aesthetic sphere, transformed activist practices into a staged theatre play directed by the Bienniale’s curators at first. Later on, OM decided to take this ‘as if’-mode seriously instead of ignoring the symbolic character of their presence at the art institution. They tried to use it for their own purpose and thereby regained control: by requesting the symbolic resignation of the curators and implementing an experimental, horizontal structure, OM took advantage of the carnivalesque nature of the entire project, using it in a potentially subversive way. However, as we know from anthropology, carnival does not only have the ability to ‘turn the world upside down’,[58] thereby questioning existing power structures and dissolving them for a limited time. It also has to be considered as a compensatory ritual that contributes to the stabilization of the prevailing order through its purely symbolic digression.[59] The latter characteristic of the carnival is crucial to the case of the Berlin Biennale: in the end, the symbolic capital of resistance and subversion was conferred on those actors which had been in charge all along – the curatorial team. The final press release of the 7th Berlin Biennale thus describes the ‘Horizontalization Process’ as “an example of the process-based and self-critical methods with which Artur Żmijewski and his associated curators made pivotal contributions to contemporary discussions around exhibition production”.[60]

Considering Rancière’s notion of appearance as a political act, the Berlin Biennale occupation becomes highly problematic. Having been initiated by the curatorial team of the Biennale, the change of the occupation’s direction (from a bottom-up to a top-down gesture) fundamentally alters its purpose: it ceases to be a primarily emancipatory endeavour and turns into an orchestrated situation in which apparently everything is possible. Taking place inside the sphere of ‘as if’, the invited occupation thus comes dangerously close to what Rancière considers to be a postdemocratic removal of the sphere of appearance:

In it the people are never again uneven, uncountable, or unpresentable. They are always both totally present and totally absent at once. They are entirely caught in a structure of the visible where everything is on show and where there is thus no longer any place for appearance.[61]

Regarding the art institution’s relation to its surrounding public spheres, contemporary curatorial practice should therefore be well aware of the pitfalls that institutional complicities with practices of civil disobedience imply. An imaginary dissolution of the wall between the museum and its outside certainly does not do the trick.

Robert Kotowski

Director of the National Museum in Kielce
Department for the Study of Cultural Heritage Institutions, Faculty of Journalism, Information and Book Studies University of Warsaw

MUSEUM AS A PLATFORM FOR PERSONAL DEVELOPMENT

Museums, besides gathering, protecting and exhibiting their collections, fulfil various social functions, playing a significant role in building relationships with people and considering their experience. Monumental temples of art and science have become places of community dialogue and interaction and an interdisciplinary platform for exchanging ideas significantly influencing attitudes, views and cultures of their recipients. The research, conducted in 2002 by the University of Aberdeen, into the influence of museums on society proves that there any many areas of impact, such as: personal development, imagination, creativity and even health and wellbeing.[1] In the area of the personal development there is a visible influence of museums’ activity on acquiring new skills and experiences, raising self-esteem and self-confidence, changes in the attitude, developing creativity, cultural awareness, communication and memory, which confirms therapeutic value of museums. It has also been proved that museum strengthens the bonds of local community, influences groups that are endangered by the social exclusion, promotes good health and may have a good impact on the solution of such problems as unemployment and crime.[2]

This article will discuss selected areas of the influence of museums and their activity on personal development, community attitudes, integration processes and avoiding exclusion.

Before museums became a ‘collection’ (of poetry, knowledge, notes, objects, etc.), they were a place of change in which a spiritual and creative transformation took place, either individually or collectively.

This tradition lasted for a very long time, present in the Middle Ages and early modern era, reformulated and partially forgotten at the turn of the nineteenth century. Now comes back in a different context of people’s needs and as a mission of a cultural institution. The museum has become and open space for collective presence that inspires the personal development and significantly influences the personality of its visitors. This potential is growing strengthened by knowledge and skills coming from different disciplines of life and science.

Besides gathering, protecting and exhibiting their collections, museums fulfil various social functions, playing a significant role in building relationships with people and enriching their experience. New roles, taken on by cultural institutions at the end of the twentieth and in the early twenty-first century, discover unknown archipelagos of practical solutions for functioning of these institutions within the society. The museum extends its sphere of influence. It is an area for meetings, a magical no-man’s land for contemplation and discussion on culture creators. Museums of the twenty-first century prepare the ground for new social structures by facilitating the interpersonal communication and help us to better understand ourselves in the environment we live in. They became an interdisciplinary platform for exchanging ideas about the world that have a significant impact on attitudes, perspectives and culture of their recipients.[3] All of that in the context of transformations that museums have undergone in the last few decades.

The turn of the twenty-first century has brought a number of changes, defining the contemporary character of museums and galleries all over the world. They have led to a radical reorganisation of museal culture and the relationship with audience that in turn has brought about a change in their social role. It turned out that this is the only way of development for these institutions and their future. A long-lasting monologue in the museums’ work was replaced with contact with their audience, listening to their needs and building social relationships. Defining the purpose of existence of museums as a social service and for social development has become the most popular part of European definitions of museums.[4] The turn towards the audience has become the most important challenge facing contemporary museum institutions.[5] In the face of complexity and diversity of today’s society and their needs, museums could not remain indifferent, preserving their character of monolithic institutions of the past.[6] A well-functioning museum that wants to be accessible and enjoyable to a large number of visitors has to read these needs carefully and react to them. A hermetic museum, closed to changes, cannot meet these expectations. Only a pro-social institution, ready to transform itself and oriented towards its audience stands a chance to react appropriately to social needs and expectations of diverse groups of stakeholders.[7] As Eilean Hooper-Greenhill said in the 1990s: “Museum has to become more open, democratic, professional and react more vividly”.[8]

In this spirit the aims of museum’s activities have been revaluated. From the beginning of time it had been a search for answers to such questions as who we are, where do we come from, how do we build our future and what is our place in the world of nature, how can we follow the changes in history of civilizations, states, nations and even the universe. To this end, the basic tasks of museums are described: gathering, protection and exhibition of the collections;, and what is the top priority is building relations with people with regard to their experience and orientation towards fulfilling various social functions such as shaping the personalities of the audience. Museums as statics storages of objects have now become places of active educations for many groups.[9] They have turned into places of social dialog, multi-dimensional education and interaction and have an impact on many areas of social life.[10] This impact is confirmed by, among others, the activity of the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts, which, thanks to cooperation with the association of Médecins Francophone du Canada, shares its collections for therapeutic purposes. Physicians recommend their patients to visit museums. The authors of this idea sincerely believe that this will make people healthier, happier and more robust. Physicians prescribe free museum tours. This is the first time in history when art and culture are supposed to help people get well again. This program was planned for one year, but its authors hope that the idea will spread all over the country and consequently all over the world. As the museum’s director, Nathalie Bondil, said, cultural experience would have a positive impact on health and wellbeing in the same way as doing sport. Skeptics might want to remind themselves that over hundred years ago it was believed that sport was harmful for the body and women’s fertility. In the same way as physicians prescribe physical activity, they will now prescribe visits in Montreal Museum of Fine Arts.

Human personality is dynamic and develops constantly. However, it is very difficult to define it unambiguously. There are many concepts of personality and many various definitions. The questions investigated by researchers is the problem of personality: What is a human like and how does he or she act? Depending on one’s philosophical view, some people consider personality a superior instance, dynamizing and orientating action; others describe it as a set of subjective mental conditions of action. Some concepts of personality highlight the significance of the innate influences for shaping the personality structure. On the opposite pole, there are theories pointing to the role of environmental factors as indicators of personality. These factors include: climate, landscape, animals, plants, family, school, media, but also cultural landscape, cultural heritage, history and culture – directly related to the museum’s activity. The influence of those factors create the acquired features, expressed in attitudes towards life and other people, opinions, beliefs or habits. The ground for the influence of those factors is human susceptibility to outer stimuli: image, sound, events, people, conduct patterns and authorities. It creates a developmental plasticity of some sort, which consists of suggestiveness, imitation which that subordinates humans to environmental factors or, for example, authorities.

The social impact of museums is inextricably linked with education that should be directed towards parallel teaching within the museum owing to the nature of its collections rather than school activities. A swift exchange of thoughts, views, notes between participants and conversations do not support school discipline. The leader of the class is a moderator, not a lecturer. This type of education should involve games and recreational activities for which the museum collection may be a pretext, but also forms of activity realised episodically but attractively, which encourage newcomers to visit museums.

Museums turn into forums of a social dialog which is one of the categories of narration, and utilises ‘text’ – a museum object. This feature is the very core of the museums’ existence. Museum’s audience do not want to only see and know, they want to experience, take part in the narration about art and heritage, but also in discussion. The visitors are nor passive anymore, but become active participants in an interactive adventure, thus creating the museum experience. They want to enter into individual and collective interactions with the exhibition and have the opportunity to comment on it. At the same time, people are open to confrontation with difficult and controversial topic and ready to break stereotypes. This is yet another area of museums’ social impact, influencing personal development. It gives an opportunity to participate in public and cultural life of the local community, which results in greater integration with the environment making it possible to exchange experiences, thus strengthening social bonds. Voluntary service in the museum is a relatively new form of participating activity, but an increasing interest in it promises its further development.

Culture’s impact on personality was thoroughly researched by Carl Jung who perceived the human as not only a cultural creation shaped by clearly defined content of consciousness and social norms, but also as pressured by various unconscious meanings whose sense we can see while asking about their goal. According to Jung, the humans create themselves and their world in the personal, historical, social, and cultural dimensions. According to him, it is in this clash between individual potential with culture requirements that the human personality is shaped. As the social values and norms make it possible to develop only one part of human personality – the one which is socially ‘useful’ – at the beginning the man develops in part and only in one direction. What remains hidden, ‘pushed’ to unconsciousness, is our ‘other side’ – our Shadow.

In personality studies the basic problem is to what extent the deeper layers of personality are conditioned by environmental factors – it is possible to answer this question only by examining individuals brought up in different backgrounds and cultures. To understand interpersonal relationships is very important for shaping personality, and this is impossible without taking into consideration the position of participating individuals in social structures. Is it thus clearly evident that culture’s influence on human personality is very important and problems of culture and of individual personalities of people living within should not be analysed separately as always interrelated and dependent on each other.

Museums shape our personality, but also our identity – both individual and collective ones. Identity is born in a dialog with the past, which makes it possible to modify and shape subjective traditions, thus influencing the collective memory by giving it the collective meaning, important especially for identities of local communities.[11] It is in the interaction with people and our surroundings that our personality is being shaped. The full potential of this personality, its full development is possible only if the access to knowledge, truth and the past of the world we live in is unrestrained. Moreover, if this truth is not unsaid, but also not distorted, if the possibility of knowing this truth is unrestricted – such conditions allow for the development of a full and responsible individual. That is why museums are so important in our lives.

This problem was the main subject of a conference devoted to ‘Museotherapy’ (Muzeoterapia) organised by the National Museum in Kielce. Its goal was to create a space for exchanging thoughts and opinions of specialists – both theoreticians and practitioners – about a new social role of museum. During this – extremely popular – conference there was a discussion on many areas of influence of museums and their activity’s impact on personal development, social attitudes, integration processes or how to avoiding social exclusion. The conference participants exchanged their views on the contemporary role of museums in therapy of civilizational diseases; on changes in functioning of cultural heritage institutions necessary to make them fulfil needs of the modern society; on meditation as a practice which allows to integrate with the everyday life.

– There was also an attempt made to define the phenomenon of museotherapy. Each participant could have presented their own definition and point of view on this idea. The most important description of this form of therapy is to picture museum as a mediator in strengthening social awareness and mentality. The differences between museotherapy and other forms were also discussed.

– After formulating the definitions one could not help but ponder upon the purpose of this type of therapy, pointing to diagnosis of the cognitive, developmental, and emotional needs; studying the growth of emotional-social, perceptual-cognitive abilities, reacting to internal tensions, failures, frustration and aggression, and developing creative abilities.

After evaluating the project with regard to all the problems brought up by the participants, new lines and directions for the next year conference were drafted. We have been convinced that museums are an interdisciplinary platform for exchange of ideas about the world that serve to build social capital and social integration, and to shape personality. At the same time museums are places of cultural therapy for people and undoubtedly they contribute to improvement of the quality of life.

Milan Jan Půček

Director of the National Museum of Agriculture in Prague

Naďa Machková Prajzová

Head of the Department of Specialised Strategies, National Museum of Agriculture in Prague

Antonín Šimčík

Deputy Director for Museology and Research, National Museum of Agriculture in Prague

AGRICULTURE: REDISCOVERED IDENTITY IN THE CONTEXT OF FAST-CHANGING WORLD[1]

One of the key factors determining our attitude to the landscape and the land in general is a profound change in our relation to agriculture. Due to the development of technologies and gradual decrease in human labour requirements, this process is a global one. In a number of European countries, however, this general process was, within living memory, influenced also by much more sudden and tragic developments. When the Soviet Union managed to temporarily gain absolute control over the development of countries belonging to what came to be known as the Eastern Bloc, it enforced thorough collectivisation as the basic economic system of agricultural production. This led to changes which destroyed traditional structures, traditional societies, economic ties, but also respect to local nature and rural environment in general. This political act of a totalitarian regime was aimed against a large portion of population. Its goal was to dismantle their way of life, its effects, comparable to the holocaust, it fatally and irrevocably altered the lives of hundreds of thousands of people and changed the society and landscape of many countries including the Czech Republic. This process had a far-reaching impact also on the history of our institution, the National Museum of Agriculture.

If we wish to understand the present, we need to pay attention to broader contexts, and if we want to follow the development of agriculture, we ought to consider other ways in which landscape can be used to generate produce and profit, such as forestry or fisheries. We believe it is important to popularise a sustainable approach to the landscape and environment by emphasising the basic processes in the landscape, their impact, risks they pose, and ways in which they can be sustained or improved. During the process of collectivisation, technocratic social engineering had disconnected most people from processes which shape the environment. As a consequence, most people lost touch with agriculture, lost any understanding of what agriculture is about, and in fact lost interest in the subject altogether.

This year, the National Museum of Agriculture celebrates one hundred years since its foundation. It is an opportunity to review a dramatic century. It included periods of bloom and decline, which reflected the development of agriculture and society in general. It is surprising how long a subject as important as agriculture remained outside the scope of interest of museologists and the public at large, although it is an extraordinarily broad, global, and universal platform for research and museum presentation of the history, the present, and future trends influencing the abovementioned close link between people and nature. The basic precondition, however, is to realise not only what agriculture is, what its impact has been, where it is found, and what it influences, but also to choose an appropriate approach in defining a modern museum and ways in which these issues can be presented in the twenty-first century.

Disruption of the interwar tradition

The institution of which the current National Museum of Agriculture is a direct successor was officially founded on 28 September 1918 with the establishment of the Czech Agricultural Museum association. Soon after the foundation of the Czechoslovak Republic, the association transformed itself into Czechoslovak Agricultural Museum, Institute for the Study and Improvement of the Countryside. Thanks especially to the outstanding museological work of Josef Kazimour and extraordinary political support lent to the project by Antonín Švehla, one of the key actors in the creation of an independent Czechoslovak state, this new institution soon became one of the most progressive museums of interwar Czechoslovakia. Efforts to promote awareness of the importance of agriculture in the new state inspired the foundation of regional branches, were reflected in support of agrarian museums in rural areas, creation of travelling exhibitions, and extensive cooperation with domestic and international experts and institutions. The importance of Czechoslovak Agricultural Museum was shortly before the Second World War underlined by the construction of a modern, representative building in Prague-Letná. The museum had a highly visible presence in public life and its significance was until the outbreak of the Second World War undisputed.

Historical developments unfortunately brought different trends into the development of agriculture and museology in general. Just like after the communist takeover in 1948 independent farmers, the traditional representatives of agriculture, were labelled enemies of the socialist regime, so too, the social importance of museums was gradually eroded and questioned. Nationalist movements of late nineteenth and early twentieth century placed strong emphasis on the memory function of museum institutions.[2] This trend then took off dramatically during two subsequent socialist dictatorships, the national one in 1939–1945 and an international one in 1948–1989. Both regional nationalism and later the two most important totalitarian movements of the twentieth century built on tendentiously skewed historical myths illustrated by misinterpreted artefacts. Visits to museums became a compulsory activity by which citizens declared their loyalty to the regime and propagandistic, ideological expositions gradually resulted in disrespect to museums in general.[3] The way in which work in museums was organised frequently led to more or less hidden double agenda, where museum’s official communication was dictated by the official ideology, while research was carried out in a more liberal atmosphere and its quality was more dependent on abilities of the individual researchers.

Current museums and museum management in countries of former Eastern Bloc thus bear many scars, often implicit ones, which ought to be not only identified but also gradually removed. It is therefore necessary to emphasise, again and again, the key role of museums as educational institutions and places of joy, learning, and relaxation. According to a wonderful, about two hundred years old definition, museums should endeavour to be places of learning and happiness. The earliest museums focused primarily on documenting nature, technology, and current science. History was seen as a subject of lesser importance and the main emphasis was on museums’ educational function. Museums were thus conceived of as instruments which mediate the present in order to achieve a better future.

Revival of the National Museum of Agriculture, 2015–2018

While respecting time-tested methodology, the newly revived National Museum of Agriculture tries to follow the principles expressed by the abovementioned definition. Jubilees are usually celebrated by reminders of the past, but equally well-fitting and perhaps even more dignified is to embark on something new, something that will serve people in future. The new concept of the National Museum of Agriculture presents agricultural museology as a rediscovered treasure of interwar Czechoslovakia, which the National Museum of Agriculture managed to restore and in a new form offer to the public as part of project ‘Revitalisation 2015–2018’.

The museum’s founder, who started asking for this service to the public, played a key role in this process. Four years on, it is quite clear that of key importance in developing a successful museum that has a social impact and relevance is a professional approach. Specialised museological expertise brings to our institution new concepts and solutions of lasting value, works with innovations, people’s potential, and introduces experiments into museum’s operation. This leads to the creation of dynamic exhibitions, meta-expositions, purpose-driven organisation of buildings for museum’s needs, unorthodox and yet professional approach to the protection of collection items, the use of collections for science, research, presentation, and popularisation, investment of structural funds into development, and the like. This process of revitalisation led to a transformation of our museum’s approach to many areas of its activity.[4] It has an impact on its collecting efforts, care of its collections, and its communication. And last but not least, managerial approaches are also undergoing change.[5]

Thanks to these approaches, the National Museum of Agriculture is gradually transformed into a communal and participative place capable of bringing new concepts into people’s lives. That is, after all, the only way in which museums, including ours, can become part of infrastructure aimed at improving people’s wellbeing. The National Museum of Agriculture is by definition a universal museum specialised in presenting the phenomenon of agriculture in the Czech Lands. This naturally includes also related areas whose relevance stems from the fact that agriculture is a phenomenon of global importance. Our collections document not only partial phenomena but also the main trends which fundamentally contributed to the formation of current civilisation. It is gradually becoming apparent that agricultural museology is a concept capable of competing in the global arena.

Selection – curation – communication – institutionalisation

For one hundred years, the National Museum of Agriculture has been collecting evidence pertaining to agriculture, one of the most important human activities which had a fundamental impact on human society. Our museum presents to the public agriculture, forestry, fishing, food industry, and gastronomy as areas of key importance to human life and the existence of society as such. It views agriculture as a phenomenon that led to many innovations which are still in use and which influenced even our perception of time. For these reasons, the National Museum of Agriculture had been creating a comprehensive collection whose aim is to document not only subjects related to cultural history, but also natural sciences, environmental issues, and last but not least technological innovations. As a result, the museum manages sub-collections pertaining to natural, social, and technical sciences.

The history of the various parts of our collections is highly varied. Chronologically earliest is the assembly of objects which passed to our collections from the Schwarzenberg public museum of forestry and hunting. This museum gradually evolved at the Ohrada hunting lodge since 1842. The value of this collection is extraordinarily high, because it was in all likelihood the oldest specialised museum of its kind not only in the Czech Lands but in the world. Its importance should therefore be assessed also in the context of historical museology. Another important assembly consists of objects collected in connection with the Jubilee Land Exhibition in 1891 and the Czechoslavic Ethnographic Exhibition of 1895, which were preserved thanks to the efforts of the Ethnographic Society. After the creation of the agricultural museum in 1918, they were incorporated into the museum’s collections in 1924. Highly important are also collections of teaching aids, such as models of machinery and various objects from agricultural academies, especially the former Agricultural Academy in Tábor. Over time, the museum acquired further collection items or entire collections by donation, confiscations, escheat, or collecting activities of its workers.

The basic infrastructure for museum’s communication with the public consists not only of the newly renovated museum building in Prague-Letná, which is finally starting to meet the requirements of a modern museum, but also of the gradually renovated regional branches of the National Museum of Agriculture. These regional branches are thanks to investments, largely European subsidies, gradually transformed into places that attract visitors. In addition to the main exhibition building in Prague, the public can also during the season visit the Museum of Agricultural Machinery and Equipment at Čáslav, Museum of Czech Countryside at Kačina, Museum of Forestry, Hunting, and Fishing at the Ohrada hunting lodge, Museum of Viticulture, Horticulture, and Landscaping at Valtice, and the Beer Brewing Exhibition at Znojmo. In addition to these, the museum also plans to open, in late 2019 or early 2020, a new branch in Ostrava.

The story told by the main exhibition building of the National Museum of Agriculture is about the relation between people and agriculture, about the impact of innovations, and about people’s desire for affluence and abundance. The exposition on the first floor reflects the current forms of hunting and gathering, the earliest forms of finding nourishment and key survival strategies of Palaeolithic humans. Presentations of fishing, forestry, and hunting remind visitors that at the dawn of history, people lived in migrating groups and lived by fishing, hunting, and gathering. Then, some ten thousand years ago, the agricultural revolution gradually transformed life all over our planet. The second floor therefore presents humanity’s most important know-how: agriculture. Agriculture allowed people to settle and eventually forced them to switch from hunting and gathering to growing plants and keeping animals. Over time, improvements, innovations, and search for ways to minimise labour and achieve the best possible results turned agriculture into the subject of scientific interest and enterprise. The third floor is dedicated to food. A dynamic exposition on gastronomy features, alongside traditional exposition elements, also an innovative kitchen studio which familiarises visitors with the culinary skills of cooperating cooks via participative ‘life’ cooking. Currently prepared is an exposition on food industry, which will present food-processing technologies, their history, and modern trends.

At the very top of the museum, visitors can symbolically enjoy a wide view of real life. A roof terrace, which includes flower beds and beehives, offers a view of a city that cannot have been founded without agriculture. Our meta-exposition called ‘Life’ in the roof garden reminds us that while two hundred years ago, over 90% of population was active in agriculture, nowadays a tiny fraction of population manages to feed us all. Two thirds of population in the Czech Republic live in towns and cities and it is likely that the concept of agriculture will undergo further changes influenced by new technologies and trends. The roof exposition therefore offers a symbolic view into a future which our institution as a museum of future strives to achieve.

The goals of the National Museum of Agriculture also include the organisation of various professional, curated exhibitions which make use our museum’s collections, but also the collections of other institutions, including foreign ones. Our exhibitions should be modern, inspiring, educational, but also entertaining. They should present not only the past, but wherever possible also hint at the world of tomorrow. Only projects prepared with such ambitions can inspire us to deepen our understanding and to expand our collections in a meaningful way.

Exhibitions prepared in direct connection with results of research projects form a special category. At the moment, we are preparing and improving exhibitions on gastronomy and fishing, which will be based on the results of projects such as ‘The Culinary Heritage of Czech Lands: Memory, Presentation, and Education and Cultural Traditions of Czech Fishing in the Light of Its Use in Travel Industry and Landscaping’. Research project ‘Hardmuth: From charcoal to a pen-making giant’ is dedicated to landscape and includes cooperation with garden architects. The subject of cultural landscape has also traditionally been covered by our museum’s exhibitions. Our earlier projects focused on subjects such as landscape as space of social presentation and relaxation of select aristocratic families from the seventeenth until early twentieth century and garden architecture in the context of realisation of the goals of the Czech national revival during the First Republic. At the moment, our museum’s visitors can enjoy the exhibition ‘Garden in the First Republic’, presented among others in the museum’s yard.

The National Museum of Agriculture places much emphasis on education. Learning is undoubtedly one of the key parts of museum’s communication. Our aim is to form partnerships when creating museum products, that is, we want to work with broader teams which better reflect the needs of particular target groups. The number of lectures and educational workshops and the number of their visitors has recently rapidly grown both in Prague and in the museum’s regional branches. Education programmes are developed and gradually improved in reaction to the needs and requirements of schools and various groups and clubs.

Recently, we started placing more emphasis on experiential, hand-on learning. The museum opened a ‘discovery room’, which is equipped as a laboratory, lecture room, and space that enables all curious visitors to investigate, discover, and find new information. It is a space dedicated to learning, thinking, experimenting, but also entertainment and play. In 2017, the National Museum of Agriculture also started to place more emphasis on lecturing activities. At the moment, the museum offers series of lectures on subjects related to agriculture, its history, but also its current challenges. Our institution is thus starting to function as a platform for exchanging information and experience. It had recently started to regularly host the Night of Scientists and Week of Science and Technology events.

Our main target groups are children, seniors, and active adults interested in learning. The National Museum of Agriculture strives to offer a wide range of authentic experience within all of its products, both in Prague throughout the whole year and in its regional branches during the season.[6] In 2018, the National Museum of Agriculture became a hit on Instagram and pictures from its exhibitions, especially the “Life on the Roof” exposition, are shared across age groups. This helps spread the reputation of our institution as a place that welcomes visitors and tries to accommodate their wishes and needs.

In contrast to traditional museums, we gradually de-emphasise the historical aspect of a museum. It serves merely as the context, not the primary content of what we wish to communicate. The informative level is formed by remembering the past, knowing the present, and predicting the future. Given current trends in the development of society, it is most likely that future will bring tough challenges with respect to methodological issues linked not only to documenting the present, but also to the perception of predictions which are communicated now.

National Museum of Agriculture: Vision 2030

For 2020, the National Museum of Agriculture had set as its goal to become:

a memory-preserving and research institution with a learning and popularisation function, which communicates to its visitors the unique experience of viewing its spaces, exhibitions, and permanent exhibitions. Families with children, schools, and each visitor in general comes to a museum in order to have an extraordinary experience of being in an attractive, authentic environment or viewing an interactive, experiential exhibition, exposition, equipment, event, or programme. We wish to make this available in Prague in the course of the whole year and in regional branches during the season. We hope that visitors will leave our museum with impressions that will make them wish to come again with their families or friends and recommend us to their friends.

The goal of educational, popularisation, and research activities carried out through expositions, exhibitions, programmes, events, and publications is: (1) to help build in public awareness a positive relation to agriculture, forestry, hunting, fishing, gardening, processing of agricultural produce, cultural landscape, and rural areas, their development and history, or (2) using suitable, ‘common sense’[7] approach to promote interest in information offered by natural, technical, and social sciences with focus on subjects to which our museum is dedicated. In this context, it is important to develop the ability to understand things in their context and to take into account local, regional conditions, or (3) to develop appreciation of simplicity, truth, beauty, and harmony. We want our museum to become an institution that spreads a feeling of joy from learning.

The National Museum of Agriculture aims at increasing the value of its collections in the following three areas: (1) From the perspective of popularisation, we focus on their value for visitors, that is, on mediating an authentic experience based on their own perception of items from our collections and their stories. (2) From a scientific point of view, the decisive factor is their usefulness for current or future scientific research. (3) And finally, there is the monetary value to be taken into account.

In future, it is essential to make sure that the museum focuses on people and develops this aspect of its work. A museum provides service to the public and as such, it must be open, accessible, and relevant. Twenty-first century society will be facing many new challenges including growing consumption, urbanisation, virtualisation, climate change and other threats to environment, increased access to technologies, and ageing population. In this context, the National Museum of Agriculture can help communicate the process of searching for answers to these challenges based on expertly collected evidence which documents their development and by interpreting this evidence by a team of experts the museum had gathered through its activities. The museum must be able to search for, and above all to communicate, answers to currently relevant topics and to offer them to people who come to the museum to ask, be inspired, or admire, relax, and enjoy. Even now, the National Museum of Agriculture touches upon many current subjects. Its exhibitions address the issue of water and drought and the issue of sustainable use of resources is viewed as of key importance. The current series of lectures ‘Let us Grow Food and Eat in a Healthy Way’ has been prepared in collaboration with leading experts from the Crops Research Institute.

In future, the National Museum of Agriculture should also serve as an institution that offers a wider context. The vast amounts of data available will generate issues pertaining to their optimal use. How should we use the information at our disposal? This is why it is important to make our museum accessible to even the youngest visitors, to educate the future generation of people who would see museums as places where one can freely move and perceive objects and events within their historical context, present use, and possible future development. It must, however, inspire also visitors of active age to think and search for suitable ways and solutions, and it is becoming ever more important to develop communication with senior citizens. This is why we need to aim at offering visitors and partners much more space for creating and using our collections, that is, space for active, participative curation. Interaction could not only increase the scientific value of the collection as a body of collected items and information, but also improve the efficiency of museum’s communication, which should to maximum extent possible reflect new trends and expectations of our visitors.

It can be expected that in future, the importance of preserving know-how will increase. Support of cultural and creative enterprises, which are likely to play an ever-increasing role in European economy, will require the preservation of basic competences and human skills. The sooner museums face this challenge, the faster their social importance and relevance is likely to grow. The National Museum of Agriculture had already started with gastronomy but there are many other subjects where technological processes should be preserved for future.

Collected items can offer an authentic experience, a taste of past reality, and while modern technologies are clearly becoming an effective instrument and aid in many processes, they cannot replace the impact of a message communicated by authentic objects which testify to a certain reality and embody it. Development of new technologies even now clearly helps emphasise the uniqueness and importance of museums as institutions which do work with three-dimensional objects. The National Museum of Agriculture focuses on agriculture, which can be seen as a fundamental value in the context of virtualisation of the world.

We hope that museums will become places of safety, places where people feel they can think in peace, come face to face with objects they like and people they want to meet. Places which inspire creativity and support open-minded dialogue. At the same time, thanks to this atmosphere of safety, museums can become spaces of democracy, places where views and opinions are formed, and this is a precious added value especially in post-totalitarian societies.

We hope that the National Museum of Agriculture will, in the next hundred years, remain a museum that can adequately react to new social issues by defining them, presenting them in the context of past events and likely future development, and guarantee a safe space where these issues can be discussed both in a European and possibly even global context. We hope the National Museum of Agriculture will remain an enriching part of people’s lives.[8]

Lubomír Anděl

Curator, Technical Museum in Brno

ECONOMY: IMPACT OF MUSEUMS ON LOCAL DEVELOPMENT & FINANCIAL SUSTAINABILITY

The institution of museum is, in its base, an economic indicator of the state of society and it is a significant part of every economy. The indisputable nature of the economic benefits of museum-type institutions can be seen both through the purely numeric indicators and the social benefits. In many ways, we talk about the museum as a non-profit organisation but our Central European point of view is more tied to governoment or self-governing power which determines the amount of financial contribution to a specific organization and, in many cases, its redistribution. However, non-profit and contributory organisations can make a profit, but it is not their primary purpose, and if the profit is not to serve its founders, it should be reinvested in their activities. It would be shortsighted to assess the activity of a museum institution only on the basis of measurable indicators; the basic values are in the care of the natural, cultural and social wealth that the museum documents, traces, processes and preserves.

Michalina Petelska

University of Gdańsk, Poland

Magdalena Blackmore

University of Manitoba, Canada

MUSEUMS OF MIGRATION: MIGRANTS’ IDENTITY AND IMPLEMENTING THE MUSEUM’S MISSION STATEMENT – CASE STUDIES FROM POLAND AND CANADA

The question of migration should be addressed as part of the discussion about the interaction between the museum and its surroundings. Many museums are dedicated to the history of emigration and address the issue of the identity of migrants in their narratives. Museums are institutions that are open and friendly spaces for expressing and shaping the identity of immigrants in the receiving country. It is worth noting that they carry out this task while simultaneously working for the benefit of the entire local community and with the care for the identity of a given space.

The relationship between museums (especially historical museums) and the issue of identity (especially national identity) has been analysed countless times over recent years. Now that the question of migration has again become one of the main themes of public debate, it is worth paying attention to the active role that museums can play in the multidimensional issue of migrant identity. It should be mentioned in this context the publication of the book Museums, Migration and Identity in Europe. Peoples, Places and Identities.[1] Currently, some researchers are moving away from defining identity, emphasising instead the continuous shaping and changing of individuality and the influence context has on this process. As a sociological construct, identity is a process rather than a fixed form. It is defined, among other things, in relation to other nations which is of particular importance in the era of migration and globalization.[2] Nevertheless, when writing about the identity of Polish emigrants, I accept the categories employed by Andrzej Chodubski who emphasises the subjective sense of determining his or her identity by an individual. Simultaneously, he draws attention to the multitude of identities of Poles who have emigrated, from strictly Polish to those identifying with the country of settlement. He also stresses the frequent occurrences when a person struggles with an unambiguous definition of his or her own identity, or when he or she changes it (defining themselves differently at various stages in life).[3]

Not only large cultural institutions can carry out extensive projects as part of the wider debate concerning migrants. One of the aims of this essay is to draw attention to smaller museums set up and run by migrants themselves. In the context of identity, their role appears even more important – their very existence (the establishment of such an institution) is already an expression of migrants’ identity. The issues concerning the relationship between museums and identity are presented below on the example of two institutions characterised by different status and scope of activity: the Emigration Museum in Gdynia, Poland (hereinafter: MEG) and Ogniwo Polish Museum in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. The activities of both have not yet been subject to scholarly analysis. Further, the aim of this article is to draw attention to the multithreaded issue of identity taken up by the various (also: various types of) migration museums.

In recent years, the question of identity and museums has been discussed in several articles, although in this context most authors focus on the identity of individuals or social groups, including migrants. It is worth noting, however, that some of the migration museums working directly with migrants also play an essential role in the (re)construction of the identity of the area in which they operate. Therefore, drawing on the example of MEG, this essay will also focus on the relationship between the identity of the port district and the local community.

Migration museums

Further on in the essay, I will refer to the phrase ‘museums of migration’. For the purpose of this article I will propose the following classification, although it should be noted that these are categories suggested for the essay rather than a full catalogue of institutions from all over the world.

Among museums that focus their activities on the questions of migration, attention is drawn above all to those that define their mission by including the phrases ‘museum of emigration’ or ‘museum of immigration’ in their name. Examples include the Emigration Museum in Gdynia, Poland, and the BallinStadt Auswanderermuseum (Emigration Museum BallinStadt) in Hamburg, Germany. In North and South America, there are museums of immigration – including the well-known Ellis Island National Museum of Immigration (The Statue of Liberty-Ellis Island Foundation, Inc.) in New York, US. Equally important is the Canadian Museum of Immigration at Pier 21 in Halifax, Canada. The Immigration Museum of the State of São Paulo in Sao Paulo, Brazil, is an example of a similar institution in South America. Immigration museums also operate in Australia and include the Immigration Museum in Melbourne, Australia. All of the abovementioned establishments are large, public institutions. Many of them, depending on the country and their specifics, can be described as state- or local government-run institutions.

Smaller museums of a different nature play an equally important role in addressing the question of migrant identity. Very often, these are established and run by the migrants themselves (foundations, associations, organisations). Great examples of such institutions are the Museum of Danish America in Elk Horn, Iowa, US, and the Ogniwo Polish Museum in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. It should be noted that in the United States there are also museums established to represent communities from other parts of the world, such as the Museum of Chinese in America in New York. All these institutions are the result of interest in historical migrations. The main axes of their narration are the nineteenth- and twentieth-century migrations from Europe and China to North and South America and Australia. These were processes that left a strong impression on the social relations of European emigration states and shaped one of the stages of history in the countries of destination.

At present, migration has once again become one of the main topics of debates on European society. In this context, the activities of another type of museum institution should be brought to light: immigration museums in Europe, such as the Danish Immigration Museum in Farum, Denmark, or the Musée national de l’histoire de l’immigration in Paris, France.

The topic of migration is also taken up by many other museums. The Red Star Line Museum in Antwerp, Belgium, for example, features a similar narrative construction and activities as the abovementioned museums of migration. It is worth noting that there are also a number of Jewish museums that, by telling the history of the Jewish nation, largely focus the narrative of permanent exhibitions on the subject of migration. However, such institutions are beyond the scope of this essay.

Museums of emigration – the identity of emigrants within the diaspora

The starting point for the activities of emigration museums are typically historical migrations. A large part of their activity is related to exploring the identity of emigrants from a given country dispersed around the world. MEG was established in 2012. The opening of the permanent exhibition and the launch of its full programme took place in 2015. The permanent exhibition presents various types of migrations on Polish soil from the Middle Ages to the twenty-first century. At the same time, however, the core of the exhibition is the journey of economic emigrants from a poor village in Galicia via Germany and New York to Chicago. In the second part of the exhibition visitors learn about Polish political emigration in the difficult period of the Polish People’s Republic. The modern shape of MEG’s permanent display allows an immersive and sensual experience of such journeys. The narrative exploits the necessity or choice of leaving the country and shows how migrants from Poland organised their lives abroad. Emigrants or their descendants visiting the MEG during family or holiday visits to Poland often react strongly to the exhibition’s narrative. Meanwhile, genealogical workshops enjoy popularity among the local MEG visitors.

An extremely important part of the MEG’s mission is the Emigrant’s Archives: an archive comprising oral history accounts of Polish emigrants.[4] The MEG collection also remains closely related to the museum’s environment: on the one hand, migrants or their families donate objects to the MEG collection, and on the other, MEG digitises and makes the collections accessible to a wide audience and uses them in its exhibition, publishing, and other activities.

Projects implemented by MEG in collaboration with Polish organisations from all over the world play a unique role in the context of migrant identity. Direct collaboration is also the vital element of its temporary exhibitions. First such display following the opening of MEG was “Faces of the Polish Diaspora: People of Hamtramck” (Oblicza Polonii. Mieszkańcy Hamtramck). The exhibition about Poles in Hamtramck near Detroit was prepared in the United States with personal contributions from its protagonists, and was shown in Poland at MEG as well as in Hamtramck.[5] Importantly, MEG cooperates not only with Polish communities abroad, but also with representatives of countries where people of Polish ethnic origin now live. In 2017, on the 150th anniversary of the Dominion of Canada, together with the Embassy of Canada in Poland, MEG presented a temporary exhibition entitled “Poles in the Canadian Mosaic. 150 Years of History”.[6] The display, together with the accompanying catalogue, was a space for a discussion on the identity of Polish Canadians, both in the context of history and in present-day Canada – currently one of the most open countries to immigrants and refugees from around the world.

In the context of the relationship between the museum and migrant identity, two particular projects are the most interesting for researchers: “Ask about Poland” (Zapytaj o Polskę; 2015), and “Female emigrants in their own voice” (Emigrantki własnym głosem; 2016). The first was directed to a group of migrants who decided to return to Poland. The invitation to participate in the project was addressed to representatives of various waves of emigration: from political refugees of the Solidarity era to young people who moved abroad mainly to satisfy their curiosity about the world. During a workshop, working in pairs (a younger person working together with someone older), the participants crossed the age divide (age identity). The representatives of a given wave of emigration often function, to a lesser or greater extent, among themselves – their identity is shaped by their common experiences. Therefore, it was equally important they were able to share different reasons for, and experiences of, migration.[7]

The literary project “Female emigrants in their own voice” drew attention to the emigration of women from Poland after 2004, i.e. after Poland’s accession to the European Union. During meetings and workshops, questions concerning the challenges and threats related to gender identity in exile were discussed. Among the topics under discussion were the processes of integrating within the new, unfamiliar culture; careers available to female economic migrants; the role of emigrant wife and mother; and human trafficking as one of the risks associated with moving abroad.[8]

Museums established by migrants as an expression of their identity

Museums run by migrants (foundations, associations, organisations) can be found all over the world. In institutional terms, they are often small and depend on volunteers or membership fees. In some cases, they rely on grants or participation in projects run by agencies from the migrants’ home states. People of Polish descent run many such institutions and one such example is the Ogniwo Polish Museum in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada.

Polish Museum Society Inc. (Polskie Towarzystwo Muzealne “Ogniwo”) was established on the initiative of the Federation of Women in Canada, Branch 7 in Winnipeg, officially registered in 1985. The mission of the museum is to collect, protect and exhibit artefacts related to the history of the Polish diaspora and to research the historical and contemporary achievements of Polish emigrants and their descendants living in Manitoba. The museum’s mission also includes promoting Polish culture, folk art and tradition. Since its inception, the museum has relied solely on volunteer work and is a non-profit institution, supported by grants from the provincial or federal government of Canada and private donations. Over the past decade, some projects have been sponsored by funds received from the Polish government, distributed by the Consulate General of the Republic of Poland in Toronto.

In 1992, a museum building was acquired, which made it possible to organise temporary exhibitions, lectures, and workshops. The museum is located in the city’s northern historic North End Winnipeg, until recently a district inhabited chiefly by immigrants from Eastern Europe. Polish organisations are still present in the neighbourhood: Holy Ghost Fraternal Aid Society, Polish Combatants Association Branch 13, and Royal Polish Canadian Legion 246.

The museum’s programme presents various aspects of Polish history and culture. The exhibition of Polish poster art, showing a collection of theatre and film posters, as well as posters promoting tourism and historical anniversaries in Poland, enjoyed great popularity.[9] It was organized on the initiative of one of the volunteers, who noticed several interesting posters in the museum’s collection. During conversations with the local Polish community it transpired that several people have original posters in their collections and are willing to loan or donate them. Most of the works were brought from Poland because of their artistic value and served as decorations for immigrant houses. All of the owners were pleased that their posters would be made available to a wider audience. The accompanying lecture on the history of the Polish Poster School and the discussion on symbolism, a strategy allowing artists to convey content that escaped censorship, attracted particular interest. Among the visitors to the exhibition were representatives of various generations of Polish emigrants. Those who arrived in Canada in the 1980s, came to see the well-known works by Polish artists. Their descendants expressed interest in the new art unknown to them with particular emphasis on the section featuring Polish versions of American film posters. The exhibition is an example of the institution’s active participation in building a new identity for Polish Canadians. The visitors appreciated the fact that the traditional museum display was temporarily substituted with a kind of exhibition typical of a contemporary art gallery. The exhibition was considered a positive step beyond the folk art traditionally propagated by generations that emigrated following WWII.

Equally popular are displays focussing on the Polish-Canadian heritage in Manitoba. A good example is the exhibition “Faces of Polonia”.[10] Part of the project was to invite the local Polish community to co-curate the exhibition. The curators made available photographs from the museum’s collection illustrating the history of the Polish community over several decades. The indirect aim was to describe photographs that had not been documented so far. Reprints of the photographs in the form of a portable mini exhibition were displayed in the museum, as well as in Polish parishes and organisations. This initiative made it possible to identify items from the museum’s collection while at the same time it became a forum for discussion, memories, and questions concerning various aspects of the history of the Polish diaspora in Manitoba. An important feature of the exhibition was raising awareness of the unique value and the need to preserve the ancestors’ heritage.

The third segment of the museum’s activity is creating the image of the Polish ethnic group through dialogue with other religious or ethnic groups. An example is the exhibition entitled “The Face of the Ghetto: Pictures taken by Jewish Photographers in the Litzmannstadt (Lodz) Ghetto 1940–1944”,[11] organized by the Ogniwo Museum and the Freeman Family Foundation Holocaust Education Centre of the Jewish Heritage Centre of Western Canada. The exhibition, curated by Thomas Lutz and Ingo Loose (Topography of Terror Documentation Centre), was accompanied by a screening of the documentary film The Great Szpera directed by Piotr Weyhert and Piotr Perz. In this case, each element of the exhibition was consulted and maintained by representatives of the museum and volunteers from Winnipeg’s Jewish community. Therefore, already during preparation time, both sides had the opportunity to share their experiences related to difficult historical themes. The event was seen as an opportunity to build understanding between the two groups. All volunteers were aware of the need to share knowledge about the Holocaust with the local community.

The examples discussed above show multiple ways of creating identity through taking interest in Polish cultural heritage and the history of one’s own ethnic group in the country of residence. The activity of the Ogniwo Polish Museum confirms the theory that the creation of a new identity is not a linear process, in which a new identity replaces the previous one.[12] It is a process of continuous transformation and selection of such elements of the culture and heritage of the new country of residence that, combined, will create a harmonious whole.

Identity of the newcomers and education of host societies

Europe, and especially Western Europe, have also been a destination for immigrants. Halfway through the second decade of the twenty-first century, migration crisis or refugee crisis began. In a unique manner, it has intensified the presence of the immigration issue in the public debate. Many museums have become active participants, not only in the debate, but also in the reception of those newly arriving in Europe.

As mentioned above, among migration museums some museums are dedicated to immigration and current issues. One example is the Immigrantmuseet in Farum, Denmark (Danish Immigration Museum). Among its promotional materials there is a programme leaflet presenting the museum’s activities simultaneously in Danish, English, Turkish, and Arabic. The institution makes its space available to immigrants so that they can express their identity on their own term. There are also projects that facilitate meeting and getting to know refugees coming to Denmark. In 2016, a project that resulted in an exhibition and publication entitled “Human Refugees” took place. Through interviews and a collection of personal items, visitors could get to know the newly arrived refugees from Syria, Eritrea, and Somalia.[13]

The fact that the subject of immigration is also taken up by museums with an original mission to focus on historical emigration is extremely interesting and socially important. One example of such an institution is, as suggested by its name, the MEG: as I describe above, the dominant narrative element of its permanent exhibition is emigration from the Polish territories. Simultaneously, however, from the launch of its broadly understood programme activities, the MEG has confronted the theme of immigration to Poland – all the more importantly, since the country has no ‘museum of immigration.’

Until recently, museums have treated their education programmes mainly as complimentary to school education curricula. At present, however, the role of museums in adult education is also emphasised. Museums are among the spaces where immigrants can learn the language of the host country. Such museum-based language programmes are all the more valuable as, unlike language courses in language schools, they combine the acquisition of language skills with the development of social skills and knowledge of the museum’s programme (history, art, technology, and others).[14] It is worth emphasising the role of many museum education departments that offer activities aimed at integration, and not just in the form of language classes.

Since the refugee crisis, due to political decisions, the Republic of Poland has not accepted migrants coming to Europe. At the same time, however, many Ukrainians (as well as Belarusians and citizens of other states of the former USSR) have arrived in Poland.[15] In 2016, MEG carried out the project “Multicultural Gdynia – The Tradition of Hospitality” (Gdynia wielokulturowa – tradycja gościnności) which combines language classes with learning about Gdynia. Walking tours around the city were held with guides speaking English, Ukrainian, and Russian.[16] Currently, language swaps are regularly hosted at the museum. Each time, announcements about subsequent editions of “Gdynia Language Swap” is published simultaneously in Polish, English, Ukrainian, and Russian.[17]

The above examples show actions aimed directly at immigrants.[18] An equally important (if not more) role taken upon by MEG is raising awareness and building an open society. Each year, MEG offers its guests an extensive programme of cultural events and every summer a holiday programme of workshops for children. In 2018, it focused on Ukrainian and Eastern European themes. In July and August 2018, children aged 6–12 years were invited to a series of weekly workshops “Holidays Worthy of the East”, during which they learned about Belarusian, Ukrainian, and Russian fairy tales and what the Orthodox Churches and Cyrillic alphabet are.[19] Adult visitors could participate in literary meetings with Ukrainian writers, watch the film Donbas directed by Sergei Loznitsa, or see a concert of the Ukrainian group, Haydamaky.[20]

The daily, long-term educational activity of MEG, which goes beyond Ukrainian issues, should also be emphasised. The offer of classes for schools – apart from classes concerning the history of emigration from Poland – also includes (as exemplified by its current educational offer for 2018/2019 school year) modules such as “Children from different parts of the world” for younger primary school children, “All different, all equal” for older primary school children, or “Multiculturalism is nothing new” for secondary school children.[21] All MEG’s activities, including educational activities, are inclusive.

The identity of the local community and area

Migration museums operating within the former migration infrastructure play a special role. In many cases, they combine the mission of a migration museum with a commitment to revitalize port areas. In such cases, it is important not only to restore the good (original) architectural condition of the building, but above all to involve the museum in the process of restoring cultural and social life to former industrial districts.[22]

The Emigration Museum in Gdynia is located at the Marine Station: a modernist building constructed in the Gdynia port in 1933 to handle passenger and emigration traffic. In 1988, the Polish transatlantic passenger service was discontinued. Since then, the historic building has fallen into disrepair. The opening of MEG in 2015 meant the emergence of an active cultural institution at the very centre of an active seaport. MEG organizes guided city tours and games and has participated in marking and placing information signs in the port space. As part of the 2016 project “Migrations | Creations 2” (Migracje | Kreacje 2) installations by the best Polish contemporary artists appeared in the industrial scenery surrounding the museum.[23]

In 2015, MEG carried out the project “Ladies and Gentlemen, and the Town” (Szanowni Państwo i Miasto). Museum employees invited residents aged 55 and over to share their memories of how they or their families have settled in Gdynia. During several months of workshops, the participants could get to know each other and establish a personal relationship with MEG and its employees. They were given the opportunity to cooperate with MEG on a permanent basis as volunteer guides – also following the end of the project.[24]

In this way, the Marine Station is not only an MEG ‘space’, but also a ‘meeting space’ for the inhabitants of Gdynia. Many recordings from the MEG Emigrant Archives and reports related to objects from the MEG collection underline the emotional link between personal histories and the Marine Station as the space of emigration, farewells, escapes, and returns. Following another division proposed in the literature on this subject, one can say that the Marine Station as the seat of MEG is more of a ‘space of a places’ rather than a ‘space of flows’.[25]

Conclusions

The analysis of the activities of the Emigration Museum in Gdynia and the Ogniwo Polish Museum in Winnipeg shows that the nous of the migration museum is not to be a museum about migration, but a museum created with and by migrants. The activities of migration museums are characterised by an inclusive approach, particularly visible in their educational programmes. Migration museums are an excellent example of active response to the needs of the museum’s surrounding environment and responsibility for shaping this environment, as highlighted in the 2016 ICOM Resolution (Milan).[26] Particularly interesting is the activity of museums that conduct parallel activities addressed to both ‘their own’ diaspora and immigrants arriving in the country in which they operate. In the article, such extensive activity of one institution was discussed on the example of the Emigration Museum in Gdynia. Such institutions address focused activities to the local communities in their local area. At the same time, thanks to modern technologies, they carry out collaborative projects with the diaspora scattered around the globe. In this way they influence and express the identity of the local community and area, immigrants and the global diaspora.

Meltem Yaşdağ

Turkish Ministry of Culture and Tourism

THE RECONSTRUCTION OF A CULTURAL LANDSCAPE BY EMIGRANT’S IDENTITY: POPULATION EXCHANGE MUSEUMS IN TURKEY

Turkish society has experienced a tumultuous transformation over the past decade. Significant demographic changes due to the additional protocol signed during the Lausanne negotiations on 30 January 1923 have been brought about by recent immigration.[1] According to this protocol, both the Muslims outside Western Thrace and the Turkish Orthodox people outside Istanbul were to be forced to migrate. In consequence, immigration waves started from Greece and Anatolia, and nearly two million people have been forced to leave the land they call their ‘homeland’ (Fig. 1).

Without doubt, the 1923 Compulsory Population Exchange lies at the root of the event that redefines and reshapes the social structure of the new Republic of Turkey. The immigrants who experienced difficulties in material and spiritual terms of coming to Turkey, while longing for their past lives, had to adapt to the new settlements on the other side. The immigrants, who were called ‘others’ for a long time, in consequence of living difficulties have lived a life intrinsically inward for political and social reasons. As a result, they have protected their traditions and customs, everything that reminds them of who they were as a family heritage.

1. Migrants transported to Kırzade ferry by boats; source: Lausanne Population Exchange Foundation Archive

Thinking about the reasons, the people of population exchange seem to have to be exposed political practice based solely on their religious identities. It has resulted in a search for belonging / identity / origin for both parties individually and socially. For this reason, in order to keep the material and immaterial cultural heritage alive and – what is even more important – to preserve it for future generations, all documents (like photography, ID cards, letters, etc.), clothing, objects of everyday life or special accessories that are related to their traditions are carefully preserved and cherished by families and their heirs (Fig. 2). This family heritage, together with the settlements of the people under the compulsory population exchange has become the focus of interest of Population Exchange Museums.

Until today, in the field of history science related to compulsory population exchange period, lots of researches have been made in Turkey. But these studies focus mainly on the political and economic aspects of the process. Fortunately, the beginning of the studies on cultural heritage of the population exchange period coincided with the opening of a first population exchange museum in Turkey, at the early twenty-first century. Surprisingly, there had been no direct attempt to preserve this cultural heritage until the year 2000.

2. Family photographs of the Özsamancı family of Thessaloniki population exchange; source: Apikam

3. İstanbul Çatalca Population Exchange Museum; photo by Meltem Yaşdağ, 2016

Until recently, this cultural heritage is directly protected by the first generation emigrants. And historical places that are still preserved by the Turkish Ministry of Culture and Tourism (within the scope of Law No. 2863), has become an official total headline for the first time with an international symposium thanks to Lausanne Exchange Foundation. On 7–8 November 2003 in Istanbul, the Lausanne Exchange Foundation opened a debate at the Turkish-Greek Population Exchange Symposium in the 80th Anniversary. The foundation has been a pioneer in making various studies on the subject in the years following the symposium and has published numerous scientific studies on the subject which led to the opening of the first migration and population exchange-themed museum in Turkey, Çatalca Population Exchange Museum (Fig. 3). The artifacts used for the exhibition of Çatalca Population Exchange Museum clearly demonstrate how different ethnic, religious and cultural identities live together and share the same compulsory population exchange experience. In a sense, the museum has become a cultural centre reflecting the importance and richness of living culture and common history consciousness of people of different backgrounds. More important, however, is the fact that forgotten identity has been kept alive in the memory of the residents of the region.

Çatalca Population Exchange Museum has shown that issues of national identity are the subject of discussion and debate, particularly in the field of social and cultural studies. Its purpose is to develop a deeper understanding of the ways in which museums negotiate and construct meanings of a national identity. To sustain a society’s values and harmonise its communities, it is understood that museum collections can help the community to understand and construct their own cultural identity, which has apparently been neglected due to the political reasons.

The tremendous impact that the Çatalca Exchange Museum had on grandchildren of the compulsory migrants soon became obvious in the cultural geography of the neighbourhood within which the museum is located. After the establishment of the first population exchange museum in Çatalca, other population exchange museums or memory houses were opened in different places in Turkey (Table 1). According to the information in Table 1, when considering the institutions/organizations leading or supporting the establishment of these museums, it becomes clear that population exchange museums in Turkey have begun to turn into a common platform for people to experience the impact of the period and to freely express their feelings about the past.[2]

Table 1. Population Exchange Themed Museums/Memory Houses in Turkey

Museum name

Date of opening

Supporting institution

Responsible institution

1

İstanbul Çatalca Population Exchange Museum

20 December 2010

Lausanne Population Exchange Foundation and Çatalca Municipality

Lausanne Population Exchange Foundation

2

Samsun Alaçam Population Exchange Museum

16
April
2012

Lausanne Population Exchange Foundation, Federation of Rumelia Balkan Associations, Samsun Metropolitan Municipality

Samsun Metropolitan Municipality

3

İzmir Foça History Center

23
April

2013

İzmir Foça Municipality

İzmir Foça Municipality

4

İstanbul Tuzla City and Population Exchange House

03 November 2013

Lausanne Population Exchange Foundation and Tuzla Social Solidarity Association

Tuzla Social Solidarity Association

5

Bursa Migration History Museum

07 November 2014

Bursa Metropolitan Municipality

Bursa Metropolitan Municipality

6

Bursa Nilüfer Municipality Population Exchange House

30

January 2016

Bursa Nilüfer Municipality with the support of Bursa Lausanne Immigration and Solidarity Association

Bursa Nilüfer Municipality

7

İzmir Migration and Population Exchange House

10

October 2017

İzmir Metropolitan Municipality

İzmir Metropolitan Municipality

The purpose of population exchange museums is clear: to protect artefacts and the spiritual cultural values carried by these artefacts for migrant families, to rebuild their forgotten identity and reconstruct cultural heritage. And perhaps the most important thing is to emphasise that they are not only ‘theirs’ but also ‘ours’ as a common cultural heritage. As we know, “local community based museums, often perceived as only addressing local and community identities have the potential to engage with discourses of nationhood”.[3] This is why at the end of the paper it will be admitted that these museums not only make connections between two countries but also reconstruct lost identities and former cultural landscape.

Among these museums, this research looks at three local population exchange museums and cultural landscapes, which are directly related to these museums and are also engaged in constructing and representing an emigrant national identity: İzmir, Alaçam and Tuzla examples are considered important locations for both identity maintenance and construction.

The first example, which is also the second population exchange museum of Turkey, is the Alaçam Population Exchange Museum. The district of Alaçam, with the towns belonging to Samsun, was inhabited by the rich Greek population living off the tobacco trade at that time.[4] The Alaçam Population Exchange Museum is located in the middle of a cultural landscape area, composed of registered structures that are mostly protected by the Turkish Ministry of Culture and Tourism. Alaçam Museum, a part of Alaçam, opened in 2012 (Fig. 4).

This Museum of Population Exchange reflects this historical period both through its content, the message it gives to its visitors and, even more than anything else, through its building. The two-story museum building is also a registered property. The structure was built as the Home for Orphans by the joint initiative of the Turkish and Greek Cypriot ahalis in the last quarter of the nineteenth century. After that, it housed many public institutions. In 2010, the building was renovated and repaired, and since 2012 it has been used as a Museum service building under the supervision of Samsun Museum Directorate.

The museum displays daily use objects, documents and photographs brought by immigrants. In fact, the museum collection includes everything what is associated with the population exchange, even slightly: Photographs taken during the years of Compulsory Population Exchange, objects of everyday usage, and documents. In the Alaçam Museum, there are various clothes: purple velvet embroidered with silver thread, wedding dresses, three skirts, bolero, shalwar and bridal head scarves, used on special occasions. Professional instruments and kitchenware reflect the immigrants’ culture, photographs taken at the time of dislocation, travel documents given to the immigrants, and some documents from the War of Independence are also exhibited (Fig. 5).

If, according to the most common definition, the function of museum is to record the past and preserve cultural heritage, the Alaçam Population Exchange Museum plays its role. There are many ways to create and maintain a cultural identity, but a large part of the process is related to tradition and its uses, rituals, poetry, song and dance, etc. Most of these are being orally passed down the generations. But this makes them threatened. For this reason, the Alaçam Museum, while telling this great and important legacy with its works to the public, the cultural landscape in which it is situated is an important pillar for both the people of the region and for foreign visitors, who wants to experience the population exchange period.

4. Samsun Alaçam Population Exchange Museum; photo by Meltem Yaşdağ, 2017

5. Samsun Alaçam Population Exchange Museum; photo by Meltem Yaşdağ, 2017

The Population Exchange Museum appears to hold a small collection of approximately two hundred artefacts as compared to other such institutions. However, every object exhibited in the museum tells a much bigger story than itself. Undoubtedly, what adds more value to museum’s artefacts in this sense is their close relation with migration history. Thus, a museum effectively fulfils its duty to share the knowledge and to protect cultural heritage that witnessed those living in Alaçam about 95 years ago. For this reason, the aim of the evaluation made through the “Alaçam Population Exchange Museum” is to emphasise the necessity to explain the historical process in the context of the cultural heritage conservation, the social life in general and the urban memory in particular. In other words: to describe the fact that the immigrants who are called ‘the other’, are in fact ‘us’, and to revive an identity that is forgotten.

Another such museum, albeit on a much smaller scale, is the Tuzla Kent and Population Exchange House in Istanbul. Unlike Alaçam Museum, it was founded with the support of non-governmental organizations (migrant associations) and related municipalities, not being a private museum in the official status affiliated to the Turkish Ministry of Culture and Tourism. The museum was opened in a registered building belonging to a Greek family before 1923 Compulsory Population Exchange, just like the one in Alaçam, which was located in a protected urban site area dated 2013. Tuzla Social Solidarity Association, which is both the founder and administrator of the museum, is actively seeking to tell Tuzla about those who have experienced social and demographic changes due to population exchange in a very recent period.

This local and museum has objects that can strongly resonate with personal experiences, contributing to both forming and affirming the identity of local or foreign visitor. On the entrance floor of the museum, there are family and special day photographs about Tuzla’s life before the population exchange. On the second floor of the building there are ethnographic artefacts, such as clothing, a variety of household utensils and ephemera together. Unfortunately, the museum, due to both the lack of space and the operating on volunteer basis, exhibits its artefacts without any detailed explanation (Fig. 6).

After visiting this museum, as being a foreign visitor, you realize that this place has a big story behind its usual scene. And in a sense, national identity’s constructed at the local level. In fact, when the subject is a museum and identity, it is inevitable that it will be directly or indirectly linked to the cultural landscape of the subject. Thus, today a little known source of compulsory population exchange heritage reveals by an ordinary local institution.

The third example is the İzmir Migration and Population Exchange Memory House, which has very effective display techniques. The museum, located in the Buca district of İzmir, is the newest museum in Turkey. The museum, which was opened last year, is a result of the restoration of an old Greek house in the cultural landscape of Buca, where emigrant families live intensely, just as they are in the case of Alaçam and Tuzla. Thus all elements of the museum – like the objects on display, the building’s architecture, its interior design – take part in this creative task, like in the case of the previous ones. But the most important factor that makes it different is that this is the first museum[5] to present works by setting them within an event framework, telling visitors various stories in the form of stories of certain themes (Fig. 7).

The Izmir Migration and Population Exchange Memory House has benefited from the experiences of the first population exchange museum and different other occasions. Firstly, a symposium[6] on the subject of population exchange in İzmir was organized shortly before the official opening of the museum by the committee of museum officials. One of the aims of the symposium was to prepare scientific bolster (basis) for the new museum and its collection. Later, with the various announcements given at the local press, the works entered into the collection process and the collected artefacts took part in the exhibition, to explain not only what the population exchange was but also how population exchange was experienced.

6. İstanbul Tuzla Kent and Population Exchange House; photo by Meltem Yaşdağ, 2017

7. İzmir Migration and Population Exchange Memory House; photo by Meltem Yaşdağ, 2018

8. İzmir Migration and Population Exchange Memory House; photo by Meltem Yaşdağ, 2018

The museum displays the main actors of the Treaty of Lausanne, regarded as the political milestone of the history of population exchange, and the victims of the protocol, in chronological order under the headlines “On the Boat”, “Waiting”, “Building the Future”, “Tahaffuzhane” (Quarantine) (Fig. 8) and “Being a Child”, etc. All the artefacts focus on the specific processes of the population exchange and are used to support the story and to remind of the daily life of immigrants. In addition to the wall panels with migration and family photographs, written text or video enrich the exhibition with oral histories.

9. İzmir Migration and Population Exchange Memory House; photo by Meltem Yaşdağ, 2018

One of the notable elements of the exhibition is the ‘suitcase’ application, which allows the visitor to experience the feelings of compulsory migrants. This is important as it connects the early twentieth-century history of İzmir with contemporary stories of migration. In here, a suitcase hanging on the wall is being filled with various household utensils and personal items of a size close to the original size. The visitor is asked to imagine what it would be like if we had to leave our home and start anew. This interactive activity requires the visitor to imagine packing a suitcase. “You can’t take everything with you so which precious objects would you put in your suitcase?” (Fig. 9).

While especially referring to the non-written history of the Buca urban conservation area in which it is located, the museum with its artefacts has reconstruct the identity of immigrants. An ordinary clothing or letter suddenly becomes emblematic of the story of early twentieth-century Turkish-Greek common history.

In turn, we are reminded how the histories and heritages of different localities, nations and ethnicities are linked together through migration stories and shared events. So, on the one hand this is a story about one family but at the same time it is about our shared history. This example reminds us too that while we sometimes speak about the local, national, and global as though they were different and separate spheres, in actuality they are always connected and influencing one another.[7]

All the three museums are non-profit organisations, managed by a board of trustees and elected officers, who work on a voluntary basis. The museum’s collections are made up of objects donated by the grandchildren of emigrants from both local areas. The museum buildings are at the centre of the cultural landscape and generally used as a meeting space for the local emigrants. These museums are first and foremost community sites, run by and for local emigrants and representing the local area’s population exchange heritage. Their mission statement is “to keep the emigrant’s culture and traditions alive in the area”. However, in order to represent local emigrant’s heritage, these museums draw on discourses of Turkish and Greek national identity.

Population exchange museums and their collections in Turkey have become integral parts of identity formation and also expression of national identity. They also become an extension of us; these values bestow on museums a very important social responsibility to consider carefully and negotiate the messages they project to the public about images and notions of identity, nation and belonging.

As it has been demonstrated in the three above examples, the history of the population exchange relates to what remains of the family heritage today. From the point of view of the museums, a very personal material, such as ‘family heritage’, is a precious gift due to the reference given to cultural identity. For this reason, the population exchange museums use the objects of the past as a means of storytelling. Thus, to the reconstruction and articulation of population exchange identities through the establishment of museums illustrates the important role of this kind of museums in shaping and mediating national identities.

All three museums and their cultural sites also perform several roles traditionally ascribed to national museums. While they provide origin stories for both the Turkish and Greek community, they show how the cultural landscapes can be protected and preserved by the small institutions. Museums can be perceived as sites where society catches glimpses of itself, where it sees what is included and what is excluded, what is part of ‘us’ and what is ‘other’. This is why the result of the research on the museum visitors’ reply is this: “I am who I think I am, and we are who we think we are and also where we come from”.

Significantly, this research suggests that institutions such as museums are being actively used by the citizens that are still seen as ethnic minority as resources in the creation of new forms of identity. Population exchange museums are very precious as institutions reflecting the multiculturalism that blends with too many bad days after Turkey’s experience gained. These museums, recalling ‘a forgotten identity’ form a basis for national consciousness. Undoubtedly, the biggest support in this process has come from the population exchange associations and local governments. These non-governmental organisations and population exchange museums highlight the initiative of voluntary associations and private persons in Turkey. They bring back the sense of lost identity, focus attention on cultural heritage, not just on migration, but also the change resulting from it. It would not be wrong to say that this heritage has been preserved by these associations. Therefore, the population exchange museums which refer to the cultural landscape they are involved in today, remind the identity together with the immigrant associations; these museums have also introduced the cultural heritage of Population Exchange into the multiculturalism of Turkey.[8]

Population exchange (migration) museums are places that store cultural and national identities for Turkey and Greece and enrich and nourish the main elements of a ‘new’ identity concept. These museums are also public spaces where different perspectives on contemporary issues could be brought together within a historical frame to provide some perspective on how societies have dealt with similar issues in the past.

Population exchange museums in Turkey are second chance to express that people who lived here a long time ago, actually belong ‘here’. For this reason, these museums present an opportunity for the heritage sector, especially for those organisations which address questions of identity through their collections, cultural landscapes and displays.

IV

PRACTICES AND PLACES

Michał Malinowski

Director of the Storyteller Museum

MUSEUM – A SMALL SPARK THAT CAN IGNITE A GREAT FLAME

In recent decades, numerous concerns have been expressed about the clash of Eastern and Western civilisations, the end of history, or the end of our civilisation. Regardless of how we define civilisation as ours, whether through a cultural community, a community of experience, religious beliefs, or a community of social and political systems, we will see the emergence of certain patterns typical of late or breakthrough stages. These include, doubtlessly, the weakening of systems of values that have hitherto been recognized as unquestionable, including religious and social values.

With amazement, we realise that ideas that until recently were seen as sufficient or even necessary to further development, such as the idea of individual freedom, continuous materialistically defined progress, democratic political systems, or respect for the rights of minorities, are being devalued before our very eyes at an accelerated rate. While in the world of science we can observe the bringing together of certain fields of study and the desire to synchronize the results of scientific research, in the social sphere the gap between the proposed, sought-after worlds and reality is widening. The causes of these alarming phenomena, testifying to the deep disorganisation of human consciousness, can be found in the intensifying flows of information streams, which the mind of contemporary man has not yet learned to organise in accordance with his accelerating and chaotically defined needs. To put it simply – the contemporary world, uncertain of the direction of its further development, negating or even rejecting in the cognitive sphere, as obsolete and restrictive, the values resulting from its own past, plunges into negative narratives that present chiefly bad aspects of our lives.

This excessive, often chaotic exposure to negative elements intensifies the sense of loss of agency in individuals, social groups, and even nations. We talk about the decline of states or national interests, juxtaposing them with supranational communities, corporations, and interests. Democratic systems are experiencing a major crisis of efficacy. The hitherto conviction that democracy is the best political system, in which a majority that respects the rights of minorities rules, fades, giving way to an overwhelming sense of helplessness. This is accompanied by declarations on creating unlimited opportunities for individuals to develop and choose their own path, without being bound by religious, cultural, traditional, community, and even biological norms (theories of gender fluidity or changing social roles).

On the one hand, we are experiencing the collapse of old regimes, and on the other, we suffer the increasing costs of these changes in the form of migratory flows and a break with our own national continuity. Elsewhere in the world, we are seeing – on an unprecedented scale – a polarisation of political and social views. In the new configuration, tribal thinking emerges. It boils down to a caricature or simplification: if you are not in favour of something, you are against it. In the overwhelming chaos, people lose their orientation and withdraw from active social life, threatening to squander the accumulated social capital. It doesn’t take a genius to notice that people are increasingly retreating into the virtual worlds of social media that give them an illusory sense of true interpersonal relations. The excessive simplification of the ways of creating relations, based on their simplification, results in cutting oneself off from getting to know oneself and others through feeling. In the past, people forging their own individuality found support in various types of natural communities: family, neighbourhood, professional, and hobbyist. The contemporary, exponentially increasing accelerated and chaotic flow of information, has completed the process of secondary atomisation and post-information alienation.

A real separation from genuine, multidimensional and multifaceted relations with oneself leads to the diminishing of one’s relations with other human beings, to questioning of the value of the natural world, which results in diminishing satisfaction with one’s life and a decreasing sense of its meaning. This in turn leads to a growing number of various psychological problems, from personality disorders to neuroses and depressions. The crisis of identity results in a cut off from seeing oneself from a historical perspective and negates the natural need to belong to a group. Increasingly often there are instances of people losing the sense of security at the beginning of life and individuals building their identity on the restrictive and destructive base of fear and coercion. Negative socialisation often begins in kindergarten and continues at school, instilling a sense of lack of motivation and inability. In addition, there is a weakening of generational family ties and friendship relations. The decline in education in many countries is reaching a critical level that cannot be improved by the increase in the number of private schools or by interest in non-school forms of education, such as home education.

Progress should serve to improve the social condition of individuals and strengthen their self-esteem. It should support them in their ability to create harmoniously functioning communities, from family, colleagues and friendships, to those related to hobbies and others. The condition of the individual will not improve on its own; it must be restored to its former self and placed under the care of a community that is conscious of its own value. The latter cannot exist within a disintegrated and atomised community of individuals who are not able to determine the purpose of their own individual development. It is unlikely that means of the existing institutional forms can lead to such change. We need new models that would be able to reconstruct the potential of individuals, currently hindered by institutionalized inability.

The museum, defined anew within the social space, could and should be one such new form. The essence of such redefinition lies in the fact that the new museum should become the Master, a space that through the community of feeling and cooperation could teach us how to live. It should be a Temple, where we can regain our mental and emotional strength and create strong motivational tools for action. The new museum could be a place of building relations, both with oneself and with others. By showing various aspects of tradition, it would allow individuals to find their identity, and through contact with the past, it would help them discover their roots, which is helpful in creating a positive vision of the future. It would also ensure stability, giving a sense of emotional security rooted in the communities functioning in a world of rapid change.

In a world dominated by intellectual, emotional and emotional nihilism, the museum could become a source of light, bringing people out of the darkness of indolence and barren, extreme individualism. It could warm up ossified institutions, old patterns of existence and nourish stressed tissues of interpersonal relations. Like a small spark, the museum, pulsating with activity, ignites a small flame, which can develop into a huge fire. Diverse contemporary types of museum activity indicate that there is a qualitative change taking place. Thanks to the experiences experienced during visiting the exhibition or participating in other activities organised by the museum, visitors experience the transformation of their own emotions, which are enriched with positive feelings and reflections, helpful in building an affirmative approach to reality. In this way, the museum becomes a place of restoring human bonds with oneself and the surrounding world. Thanks to the contact with tradition, people acquire the willingness to build their own future constructively. Experience in dealing with others, the feeling of the inseparable bond of the past with the present and the future allows for the harmonious building of one’s own identity and consciousness.

Storytelling is one of the methods the museum can use to influence others. The Storyteller Museum – Museum of Fairy Tales, Fairy Tales and Stories [Storyteller Museum – Muzeum Bajek, Baśni i Opowieści, MuBaBaO] undertakes various narrative activities and organises events aimed at popularising the art of storytelling as a tool for transmitting values and positive modelling of imagination. The museum has developed its own methods of working with fairy tales and stories using MuBaBaO building blocks, paper theatre techniques, spatial illustrations or modelling and creative workshops. The objective is to spend time together listening to traditional stories and to create new ones with the use of various visual media. In fulfilling its mission, the museum promotes the model of creative family meetings during which young and adult participants learn and create stories.

In order to explain the museum’s idea, it is necessary to describe the basic, already established forms of action. An extremely suggestive form of a common creative process is the creation of fairy tale performances, drawing on fairy tales from various parts of the globe and the author’s imagination. Local Mazovian legends, Polish and European, Indian, Arabic, Australian, African or Native American fairy tales inspire them. During expressive storytelling, participants get involved in the story with their voice and body, making various sounds, imitating the movements of the presented figure. Another form of fairy-tale travel are stories related to nature, nature, and ecology. The creation of stories is fostered by ‘fairy tale creatures’, i.e. interactive, colourful beanbags of various sizes, made of ecological leather and filled with soft and comfortable filling. They present various shapes, e.g. imaginary animals or bagels, which can be overlaid. The fairy-tale creatures are meant to interactively stimulate children’s thinking and imagination. They aid comprehensive motor development and improve the activity osteoarticular and muscular system, spine, torso and limbs, especially feet. During workshops involving the fairy tale creatures, participants experience the feeling of entering other states of weightlessness and sensory stimulation. The fairy-tale creatures shape the fluidity and harmony of movement, and above all they provide great fun for both children and adults. Fairy tale creatures can be installed in any indoor or outdoor space, as they easily adapt to the specificity of their surroundings.

The specially designed MuBaBaO blocks, which were created out of passion for creative life, stimulate imagination and are another, quite spectacular, forms of generating creative space. These are simple blocks made of unvarnished, safe to use beech and oak wood. Thanks to special treatment, they boast an interesting, tactile texture, enriched with natural gnarls and discolouration, which increases their visual attractiveness. They develop communication skills, clarity of thinking, concentration, and the sense of internal balance resulting from the process of play. They have an extraordinary power to stimulate imagination, so that the participants are able to visualize and tell stories easily. Players use them to create magical buildings, while inventing stories for them. The subject matter of buildings and stories is limited only by the theme of the story, e.g. the place where a treasure is hidden or a person who has hidden, or wants to discover the treasure, etc. In this way, stories that can be told together after construction is completed are created. The constructions and stories can be produced individually or collectively, or they can be modular when people add further parts to an existing structure, which can rise up to two–three meters upwards.

A tremendously attractive form of joint stimulation of creativity are modelling and creative workshops. Their aim is to show how to easily make interesting toys and how to play with them. During the workshops, children construct and decorate their own models, and then enjoy playing with them. The workshop leader helps to invent a story for a given toy together with the participants and encourages them to tell stories together. They can also talk about constructors and inventors, such as the extraordinary engineer Tański, economic patriotism, or the production of Polish cars in the 1920s. We have a suitable storytelling programme prepared to match each model. The workshop leader also engages parents in the process, encouraging them to help children build the models and invent stories.

The workshops develop the ability to concentrate, teach diligence, attention, patience, and accuracy as well as improve manual skills, stimulate narrative thinking, and shape positive attitudes. They offer great opportunities to positively influence the imagination, allowing participants to include their own improvements and modifications. They can be extremely helpful in organising workshops for different age groups, as well as children with cognitive disorders or disorders of fine motor skills.

During the workshop, each participant receives a special creative set from our series “Imagination Engineer”, from which they can choose, make and decorate a model of a coach, car, train, animal or plane. The set contains a number of elements made of ecological birch plywood.

Another form we employ are unique stage and puppet-making workshops for staging your own story, e.g. building a nativity scene. Inspired by traditional Victorian toy theatres, MuBaBaO has developed a special method of illustrating and presenting stories. Special forestages, backgrounds, and characters are prepared for a paper theatre that draws from fairy tales from all over the world. During the workshops, participants learn how to build a paper theatre and use it to tell stories – how to move paper characters and how to change backgrounds in the scenes during the presentation. They learn a chosen fairy tale and then present it in the paper theatre. Each participant gets their own creative set: a scene, frames, and characters from which they create their own theatre and then decorate it. Then they invent and present the story. The animations can be adapted to the respective age groups from the age of three.

MuBaBaO has also drawn up a workshop programme that includes techniques for creating pop-up books. During the workshop, unique spatial illustrations are created. The workshop leader explains what can be made from a sheet of paper. He or she presents a number of paper cutting and folding techniques that can be used to create fairy tale puppies and cats, penguins, or other figures. Participants learn how to create a folding castle, chamber, landscape, or other scene around which they can base their tale. After creating several characters and scenes, a booklet and its story are produced. At the end, the story is presented with the use of the pop-up book.

Paper elements used during the workshops selected to stimulate the child’s sensory motor skills. Types of paper with varying structure, density, and surface are used. The texture and various shapes of paper elements not only develop children’s imagination, but also stimulate their ability to feel through touch. Thanks to contact with such material, children are encouraged to create and gain confidence in their ability to create something personal and unique.

Stimulating spatial imagination in combination with theatrical narration and the spirit of adventure are served by workshops focused on creating the so-called theatre books. The theatre book is an installation that allows the youngest children to discover secrets hidden in a large pop-up book containing hidden riddles and surprises. These books are so large that the child can go inside and become one of the protagonists of the story. Theatre books provide great fun combined with education. Animators inspire children to create the content of the book, which can contain secrets of mysterious castles, islands full of treasures, or fairy-tale lands. The workshops are an example of how to create an experimental book, combining theatre and the art of storytelling.

Workshops on the creation of costumes complement all of the abovementioned forms of participation in the process of creation and stimulation of imagination. Participants compose beautiful costumes for fairy tale characters, attributes of a king or queen, a prince or princess. They decorate their works with shiny hologram foil and other materials. For example, everyone receives a crown made of special shiny, gold, or diamond paper and decorates it with gold, diamonds, or other unusual materials. Shiny jewellery, a sceptre, shiny armour or golden swords are created. Then, stories about the adventures of characters are invented and told. These workshops can also be adapted to the respective age groups, starting from the age of three.

The museum has also developed workshops for adults who want to learn to tell colourful stories. Participants will learn the secrets of composing fairy tales and telling them with the use of their bodies and gestures. They learn how to skilfully use gestures, movement, or sound to bring the story to life – they learn storytelling tricks of the trade. Interesting and tricky tasks set by workshop leaders bring out humour, energy, and joy as well as awaken dormant capabilities.

The workshop programme is based on oral communication techniques used by traditional storytellers from Africa and contemporary storytellers from the US, Canada, Spain, France, Arab countries, and India. Basic level workshops are suitable for those with no have knowledge of the subject and anyone interested in storytelling can attended. Workshops include work on the structure, content, and delivering of the story, as well as gestures, voice, posture, contact with the listener, and the space where storytelling takes place.

The museum’s open formula encourages perceiving museum space as a pretext to invent new creative acts, new projects, and undertake new activities that stimulate the imagination. It introduces the creative process itself into previously unknown areas of life, but does not strip it of mystery and driving force and protecting it from triviality and automatic repetitiveness. Thanks to the possibility to experience creativity as a driving force across a number of dimensions – teaching, entertaining, restoring, allowing a better insight into one’s nature, stimulating imagination, protecting and disseminating cultural and historical heritage, contributing to restoring social communication – the museum gains a brand-new quality. The actions undertaken by the museum on an unprecedented scale allow contemporary viewers to find their own lost creative power. The modular way of structuring the subsequent activities allows for their unlimited dissemination in any space, although museum spaces are the most appropriate due to the basic purpose and specificity of these activities, aimed as they are at awakening the desire to participate in the creative act, to experience, and to create.

In the era of technical development of information and allowing it too many functions (carrier and activator of knowledge, progress, science, interpersonal relations), the cognitive skills of learning about the world via one’s personal experiences disappear, as does the ability to evaluate these experiences in an organized manner. The access to information itself and the ability to label other people, events, and experiences, become more important than actually learning about them via experience, cooperation, collaboration and community building. This results in an oversimplified and impoverished perception of the external world as a one-dimensional, sometimes even hostile environment that limits one’s aspirations rather than as a natural space for personal development.

According to some, the key to understanding the nature and evolution of the world are emotions (Dominique Moïsi, Geopolitics of Emotions. How Cultures of Fear, Humiliation and Hope are Reshaping the World, translated by Renata Włoch, Warsaw: PWN, 2009). Today, understanding emotions has become a key skill. Institutions such as MuBaBaBaO meet the growing need for the development of this skill and strive to awaken the feelings accompanying creative acts and collaboration. Museums of this kind can become the incubators for new forms of identity building. The creativity experienced in the community enables better self-knowledge, the creation of mechanisms for the identification and auto-adjustment of one’s own emotions, organising one’s feelings and their conscious transformation. This is a new role for museums, because until now the museum space has not been perceived as a centre for creativity, an oasis of co-participation in the creative process, a place used to rebuild communication with oneself and others, a kind of exclusive spa aiding the revitalisation and regeneration of the human condition. Thanks to a new understanding of the museum’s role this is now possible.

Guido Morpurgo

Politecnico di Milano, School of Architecture Urban Planning Construction Engineering

A TALE OF TWO CITIES.
DESIGNING AN EXTENDED MUSEUM OF THE PRESENT WITH THE FORMER WARSAW GHETTO FRAGMENTS: THE WALICÓW PROJECT

L’histoire à venir ne produira plus de ruines.

Elle n’en a pas le temps

Marc Augé[1]

1. The District of Mirów today: a reconnaissance

Observing the acceleration of the change taking place in the central area of Warsaw is an occasion to activate a critical re-reading of it, starting from its double stratification: the structural palimpsest of the nineteenth century still recognizable in the post-apocalyptic city of 1945, and the new superimposed urban fabric made by a collection of autonomous and out of scale objects. If it is true that the city is the most significant product of a civilisation, here we are witnessing the construction of the present made possible by the refusal to compromise between the urgency of a change and its own memory and, in the last analysis, the multicultural identity sedimented in this ‘dual’ city.[2]

In the Wola Distric towers dominate: offices and international hotels, residential areas and shopping centres consecrate the birth of another city whose idea of the new as a value tarnished the memory of itself, condemning its morphological order to a perennial transience.

Observed from the craters still open in what remains of the urban fabric of the District of Mirów in the southern area of Warsaw, through its incessant building activity, the new entrepreneurship is setting up a huge stage for a forthcoming and forgetful future. The off-scale principle is superimposed on the urban text: super-infrastructures, uprooted architectural-surfaces and self-referential objects testify the disjunction between city and architecture, between expression and objectivity, between representation and simulation (Fig. 1).

Where it is now a habit to erase history, time and names, we witness, almost directly, the synchronic and diachronic distortions of the urban text, the disappearance of the fragments of the previous city and the appearance of new architectural ‘relicts’; the systematic substitution of the past with the anonymous language of curtain walls, hi-tech envelopes, self-referential formalisms; the renunciation of every principle capable of establishing a rooted settlement; the weakening of the relationship between progress and conservation in favour of a widespread atopy.

1. A Tale of Two Cities: the surviving Ghetto’s fragments of Waliców street in the new out-of-scale Warsaw-Mirów urban landscape. Drawing from MSc degree Thesis “Was war saw” by Cristiano Gerardi • Politecnico di Milano 2019. Supervisor: Guido Morpurgo

This corresponds to the definitive exhaustion of the urban land-document in which the last traces of the previous city are engraved; it is a final erasure occurring through the saturation of the voids with buildings that do not establish any dialogue with the places and do not correspond to any morphological rule ascribable to a history, to any idea of a European city. At the same time, in some surviving architectural micro-stories, even more sophisticated forms of forgetfulness occur.

The face of Warsaw as huge archaeological find of the modernity is replaced with a new immaculate philological mask, with the display of coloured plasters to cover the grainy physical material of the events, as perfectly executed ‘glazes’ of memory. This activity of redesigning the past on the basis of a dialectic between restoration and cancellation is devoid of any interpretation: it conceals history, putting it aside. Moreover, the dress rehearsal of this attitude had already been tested during the years of the reconstruction of the historical centre through its museographic transformation. The idea of the city-museum illusionistically recalled by an exemplary philological reconstruction characterizes the rebuilding of Stare Miasto, a certified copy of the lost old city, an event that should be re-read in the context of the overall urban reconstruction developed between 1946 and 1951.[3]

An example of intervention on fragments of surviving façades blazingly restored is in Chłodna Street, the road that cuts the belly of the city in two main Ghetto areas, the largest of which included the Konzentration Lager Warschau extended for more than a kilometre along Gęsia Street (the current Anielewicza Street).[4]

A similar case is represented, by two portions of surviving façades in Próżna Street, a road on the eastern edge of the so-called Little Ghetto, whose walls – today concealing fashionable bars, luxury apartments and offices – are definitively been brought back ‘to the new’ through accurate philological restorations based on the idea, equally meticulous, of the cancellation from bricks and stones of the signs impressed by the work of the flamethrowers, as consequences of human combats and sufferings.

But the current declination of the ‘illusionistic’ approach in the intervention on the fragments of the historical city is often, on the contrary, radically destructive. It reaches its peak in the procedure of instrumental detection of ruins of the pre-war city hidden in the urban subsoil, which inevitably emerge when new buildings are to be built. These fragments re-emerge from the ‘permafrost’ of Warsaw, as in the case of the ruins that continue to appear in the area of Nalewki Street, the heart of the old Jewish quarter of Warsaw, a street that no longer exists, but that left traces of itself on the western edge of the Krasińskich Garden. These archaeological finds often re-emerge semi-intact, with coloured floor tiles, with a set of enamelled dishes corroded by indifference, ashes and human remains never claimed by anyone, which are reburied in the old Jewish cemetery of the city.[5] The promoters of new building interventions are required to instruct archaeologists to excavate and map the remains of the old buildings with the use of sophisticated detection systems and to perform a three-dimensional restitution. Then the ruins are finally removed and disposed of to make room for new works: documenting and forgetting do not seem to be antithetical terms here, because they belong to the same attitude to the cancellation of the traces of the post-apocalyptic city. It is therefore a paradox to note that here the architectural problem of the foundation as a structural element of the tectonic is resolved by the disconnection of the new city from its historical foundation, through its definitive cancellation.

This renunciation of historical identity through the various declinations which urban renewal works are developed with, therefore, often coincides with the desire to make the last fragments of the previous city and its memorial uniqueness definitively unrecognizable and politically inoffensive. The progressive disappearance of points of reference in which to recognize the traces of the deep identity of Warsaw, inevitably leads to reconsidering the meaning and consequences of the city’s status as a tabula rasa, of its artificial ‘original condition’: an immense archaeological site, a urban desert left over from the total destruction occurred between 1943 and 1944, according to a precise and determined project.[6] This environmental condition coincides, as has been noted, with the attempt to demolish the foundations of Western culture. The return to the zero degree of urban civilization, to a dimension placed before time, suspended in an artificial eternity in which stone, concrete and bricks dominated the space not as witnesses of the unitary matrix of urban experience, ruins evocative of the sense of a narrative and of the DNA of its architecture, but as mute rubble without form and, therefore, no longer referable to a historical dimension (Fig. 2).

2. The Topography of Memory. The permanence of Waliców site among the former Warsaw Ghetto fragments of the Wola District. Drawing from MSc degree Thesis “Waliców, Fortress of the memory” by Sara Pellegrini and Domenico Spagnolo • Politecnico di Milano, 2018. Supervisors: Guido Morpurgo, Annalisa de Curtis

Warsaw 1944, an unprecedented desert of debris and ashes, the soil of an absolute reset, of the end of history, in which it was the timeless dimension of geology, of inhuman minerality that prevailed over everything. The total and ‘instantaneous’ destruction produced here the cancellation of its inhabitants, of its identity from its multicultural essence, of the city itself from its own history, and established the replacement of the urban geography with the temporally inconceivable dimension of geology.[7] Dimension totally alien to human time which, when it was time to decide whether and how to realize a post-war reconstruction, seemed to exclude any possible archaeology, thus making every genealogical research inoperable.

But despite the disappearance of material and chronological references produced by the apocalyptic Nazi urbicide, today, despite the activation of a new form of destruction of the city, still remain – particularly in the Wola District – parts of Warsaw buried in the ‘bottomless land’[8] below the current one, the last ‘building chromosomes’ of the forma urbis that characterized it between the two world wars as a European capital city. They are ‘craters’ from which traces and fragments of urban blocks emerge, pieces of buildings-units of housing aggregation that, codified and repeated, combined and covered with historicist masks, formed the urban image of the central area of Warsaw in the twentieth century. Fittings of recurring elements of the Mittel-European style and its morphological repertoire: the late nineteenth-century eclecticism and the Jugendstil; the contaminations of Art Deco and the first rationalist experiments.

The apocalypse is in Warsaw, first of all, a historical singularity, an emblematic event of the modernity of which the Holocaust seems to represent a failure or, as Zygmunt Baumann argues, its intrinsic product.[9] Warsaw also represents the epic scenario of the revolt of the Ghetto, of psychological resistance, of the production of culture, of armed struggle and of documentation of extermination. While the Nazis systematically burned ‘the memory of the disappearance’,[10] that is all the archives, the libraries, the offices of the cadastre to erase Warsaw from history, the historian Emanuel Ringelblum and the other members of the underground organisation Oneg Shabbath documented all that possibly could be transcribed; they gathered day by day everything that could testify to future generations the existence of Warsaw Ghetto and kept it in aluminium barrels of milk and cans that were buried before the total and definitive destruction of the Ghetto in the Northern District was completed.

But the apocalypse suffered by Warsaw is also a powerful figure of speech. This historical, memorial and physical relevance inscribed in the traces of the city that the surviving ruins represent, can be reinterpreted through the project as a tectonic tool to root architecture at its urban foundation. Considering as a case study the ‘archaeological site’ defined by Chłodna Street to the north, by the new route of Aleja Jana Pawla II to the east, by Wronia Street to the west up to Prosta Street to the south, there is a dense presence of ‘remembering places’,[11] both in terms of open spaces remaining from total destruction, and of buildings and parts of them, in addition to the rare remains of the wall still kept in the folds of what is left of the urban fabric.

3. Metamorphic Waliców: historical thresholds of the site in the post-apocalyptic city. Aerial photos of 2017-1945-1935 (from Google)

Some of these sites have already been violated by post-war reconstruction and today definitively endangered by property speculation.

The area, today a vast ‘telluric cavity’ (Fig. 3), still bears many traces of pre-war Warsaw, including the last imprint of the west section of Krochmalna Street, home of the orphanage directed by Dr. Janusz Korczak (a relic still existing in an enclave escaped from destruction) and, before that, the emblematic city stage of the lively plot told by Isaac Bashevis Singer in his romances and tales. Other scattered fragments, abandoned in the folds of the new Warsaw, testify of another scale of relationships, such as the remains of semi-abandoned urban blocks and sections of the wall still present in the streets: Grzybowska, Żelazna, Łucka, Ciepła, and Prosta.

Particularly relevant are the two large post-industrial voids that, almost in succession, burst into the tormented geography of the district on the west edge of Żelazna Street, the road-boundary on the western perimeter of the Ghetto, once home to the metallurgical laboratories of the Duschik & Szolce, whose south-eastern corner coincided with one of the gates of the forbidden city, of which today remains a fragment on the corner with Grzybowska Street. The first is the area of the former Norblin industries (outside the Ghetto area) still partly enclosed by the exposed brick wall on the northern edge (Łucka Street) and occupied by buildings that will soon be reduced to pure facades, incorporated in a shopping mall in the guise of colossal ‹scrap›. The second, a more extensive terrain vague, which includes two large former urban blocks, is the former Brewer Haberbush i Schiele, an area within the Ghetto between 1940 and 1941, an industry almost entirely razed to the ground during the Warsaw Uprising in August–October 1944, of which only three buildings remain today. The site is an enormous crater characterized by a process of internal emptying that seemed unstoppable, still partially surrounded by a syncopated succession of building relics that belonged to the area of the Ghetto (in particular on the northern side of Chłodna Street) and other rare architectural revenants that, near to collapse, throw shadow and rubble on Wronia Street. This sector is today subjected to the umpteenth private radical reconversion in towers for offices, apartments and commerce.

4. The former Small Ghetto area interpreted as an archaeological field: today’s off-scale buildings become imprints of an immemorial past. The findings of the former Ghetto, on the contrary, are represented as volumes, historical building materials for the future of the European city. Concrete model from MSc degree Thesis “Waliców, Fortress of the memory” by Sara Pellegrini and Domenico Spagnolo • Politecnico di Milano, 2018. Supervisors: Guido Morpurgo, Annalisa de Curtis

2. Focusing on the DNA of the city

The three buildings-ruins of Waliców Street, in the southern part of the former Little Ghetto (Fig. 4), which in terms of building quality are completely ordinary in the urban structure of old Warsaw, for their very status of ruins have the ability to transfigure the site’s temporal dimension, to convey the urgency of its ‘stratigraphic image’ and of its own historical depth of monuments of experience. Out of the four originally present in that lot, these residential buildings of five and six floors above ground that survived the Nazi destruction, are symbolic architectures. Once part of an urban block of the ‘forbidden city’, they demonstrate the value of long duration, of permanence versus oblivion. They constitute a proof of the immanence of the Ghetto in the city of our present and a proof of resistance to destruction by basic material, the minimum unit of construction of living space: the block of dwellings 24 x 54 m built in structural walls of red bricks, extraordinary operator of images, symbol of the DNA of the city.[12]

The three surviving residential buildings, unavoidable images that seem to directly come out of the urban desert photograph taken in December of 1945 by Soviet reconnaissance aircrafts, are archaeological finds that condense a plurality of narrations. The first building from the north, at number 14, which is the only one of the three to present the typical multiple courtyards of the old blocks of dwelling in Warsaw, is in a state of neglect ruin: the part on the street has been destroyed by an explosion on 24 September 1944, during an assault by SS to a group of partisans of the Polish Home Army (Armia Krajowa) who was barricaded inside. Together with the other two semi-abandoned buildings and a section of the Ghetto wall corroded by events, incorporated into the brick façade of an old factory, the wreck faces an area characterized by a succession of buildings that mark the stratification produced from the different methods of intervention that characterize the city of reconstruction. Otherwise, the surrounding areas of Waliców Street, especially in the south and west, characterised by recent and inhomogeneous autonomous interventions, have already shown their refuse of a long-term permanence.

5. Thesis project for a Memorial, a Theatre and for the regeneration for public uses of the Waliców street finds. Overlaying the archaeological excavation site on the contemporary city. Planimetric view. Drawing from MSc degree Thesis “Waliców, Fortress of the memory” by Sara Pellegrini and Domenico Spagnolo • Politecnico di Milano, 2018. Supervisors: Guido Morpurgo, Annalisa de Curtis

The buildings of Waliców Street and the two empty spaces of about half a hectare each that border them on the north and south-east edges of the lot, left in these conditions after being razed to the ground during the revolts, are ‘rapid images’ which, as Walter Benjamin states, coincide with the recognition of the ‘present’ in things: “the most intimate image of the past”.[13] Being these architectural writings depository of the morphological identity of an entire vanished city, fulcrum that condenses the memory of forms of intellectual and armed resistance against total annihilation, they represent the spatial dimension of belonging to the site as a historical object, representing a fragile yet unique case-study: an archaeological section of the post-apocalyptic city (Fig. 5).

They have an urgent need for an architectural interpretation that is not limited to conservation for their cultural heritage status. The use of the project as a tool for research and for the critical modification of reality, coincides in this case with the possible reconstruction of a memorial dimension of the context of the former Little Ghetto, through the re-reading of time through urban space: an extended museum of the present of things.

The three buildings of Waliców Street which, together with the other ruins still present in the urban structure of Mirów District, are irrefutable documents of the story of the Warsaw Ghetto, possess a sort of pedagogical vocation precisely starting from their own image in the city of today.

3. Configurations of a speaking ground

As we tried to testify, because the subsoil is full of history, it imposes itself as an unavoidable interlocutor every time that the old is replaced and the new is built. Moreover, as the anthropologist Marc Augé suggests, “the substitutions are at the antipodes of the ruins. They re-create a present functionality and eliminate the past”.[14] Reorganising the fragments may mean, in the case of Warsaw, to relocate them within the new city. Fixing these findings on the ground cannot therefore disregard the possibility of rooting them to what that soil itself hides.

Unfortunately, at first glance, the patrimony of ruins of the so-called Little Ghetto seem hopelessly lost: the processes of substitution in progress at Mirów District are forcing the soil to abandon history and its meaning. In the case of the only surviving fragment of the block in Waliców Street, the design theme of the recovery and reconversion of historic buildings, seems to be indissociable from the reconstitution of relations with the basements presumably still present in the two open spaces in the north and south-east of the lot between Grzybowska Street to the north and Pereca Street to the south. The probability that these remains still exist is part of the method which all the areas razed to the ground in 1943–4 were treated with after the war: the ground level was cleared of rubble wherever possible and the underground floors were covered up with earth.

6. Thesis project for a Memorial, a Theatre and for the regeneration for public uses of the Waliców street archeological finds. Elevation / Longitudinal sections facing Est. Drawing from MSc degree Thesis “Waliców, Fortress of the memory” by Sara Pellegrini and Domenico Spagnolo • Politecnico di Milano, 2018. Supervisors: Guido Morpurgo Annalisa de Curtis

Since there are almost no cartographic bases and cadastral plans of the pre-war Warsaw, the only possibility to establish the presence and position of ruins in the subsoil, before carrying out excavation campaigns and using geophysical surveying tools, is to study the aerial photos taken by Soviet reconnaissance aircrafts in December 1945: a powerful tool for its impressive objective truth. In these photos the mineral eternity of the post-apocalyptic city is fixed. Not only the buildings that still exist, but also the imprints of the missing ones, their combinatory logic within urban blocks are clearly visible in them. The tragic image of the end of the European city does not simply describe the result of a radical transfiguration: it is a sort of radiography of the palaeographic structure of the urban text. That picture is unequivocal: the history of the destruction of the city is not mystifiable. It reveals a lot of information and details, otherwise invisible, on the specificity and articulation of the urban structure, from which the conformation of its morphemes emerges: the residential buildings with single and multiple courtyards that represented the basic settlement principle and the identity of the whole forma urbis.

7. Thesis project for a Memorial, a Theatre and for the regeneration for public uses of the Waliców street archeological finds. Elevation / Longitudinal sections facing West. Drawing from MSc degree Thesis “Waliców, Fortress of the memory” by Sara Pellegrini and Domenico Spagnolo • Politecnico di Milano, 2018. Supervisors: Guido Morpurgo Annalisa de Curtis

Relocating those ruins in the present city means linking them to a geography of relationships, establishing a connection first of all with the imprint of what still remains and through paths realised by rediscovering the pavement still existing below the asphalt and, perhaps, recomposing some part of them with materials derived from the demolitions of other ruins, such as morphemes of an immemorial urban writing (Fig. 6).

This urban re-foundation project that requires an exclusive museological methodology for the recovery of seemingly lost meanings, may represent a form of balance between architecture, archaeology and the multiform urban landscape of Warsaw, a city with many stories interrupted by the breaking of total destruction. Attributing to the ruins of an invisible and yet present city their value as elements of identity in today’s city, as fulcrum of an extended museum that can be used for permanent documentation, study, research and debate on the present, is a way to establish a new urban structure through the reassignment of a vital role to archaeological objects. It is the possibility of reassigning to these finds the unique value of monuments and collective foundations: physical, visible links with one of the most important narrations of the twentieth century, with the breaking point of Modernity that this city represents and the dimension of a present Europe that still produces cities divided by new walls, barriers and other subtle physical forms of ethnic, sociocultural and religious segregation.[15]

Ultimately, it is necessary to integrate through a responsible museographic project the last ruins of the Warsaw Ghetto into the history of the contemporary city, for the archaeological significance which they are carriers of, and to reorganise the foundation plan on which to re-measure the architectural and urban form of the present: the architectural project must be realised as something in which the narrated time and the built space can’t be considered separately (Fig. 7).

Waliców Project is an Architectural and Urban Design Workshop dedicated to the students of the last year of the Master of the School of Architecture, Urban Planning and Engineering of the Politecnico di Milano.[16]

The workshop -this year at its third edition- started in 2016 in collaboration with the Faculty of Architecture of the Warsaw University of Technology and with the patronage of various organisations: Polin Museum of Warsaw, the Memorial of the Shoah of Milan, Istituto Italiano di Cultura Warsaw, Consulate of the Republic of Poland in Milan, ICOM-International Council of Museums Europe and Poland.

The didactic collaboration between the two Architecture Schools of Milan and Warsaw focuses on the preservation and the enhance of the Memory of the Nazi occupation of the city through its projectual regeneration.

Overall about 150 students from Milan Polytechnic, from 13 European and non-European countries, took part in the two editions of the Waliców Project.

The students projects were presented in several exhibitions organised at the Polin Museum, at the Holocaust Memorial in Milan and during the last edition of the Singer Festival in Warsaw, in the courtyard of 14 Waliców Street.

8. Thesis project for a Memorial, a Theatre and for the regeneration for public uses of the Waliców street archeological finds. Cross sections. Drawing from MSc degree Thesis “Waliców, Fortress of the memory” by Sara Pellegrini and Domenico Spagnolo • Politecnico di Milano, 2018. Supervisors: Guido Morpurgo, Annalisa de Curtis

The projects presented here are a work-in-progress elaborated by the School of Architecture of Milan Polytechnic during the two past academic years.

The program focuses on the redesign of the buildings of Waliców Street no. 10-12-14 in an integrated project, including the preservation of three historic buildings and their reuse for collective purposes – a memorial-museum, documentation centre and artistic workshops, temporary residences for scholars and artists – and the museographic interpretation of two empty areas under which are buried the ruins of the buildings destroyed in 1943 and 1944 during the ghetto uprising and the Polish insurrection against German occupation.

The little memorial-museum has the role to support the historical buildings, a place of study for documentation and Memory, as well as for the elaboration of a memory of the present through cultural activities, debates and research about the issues that are generating new walls, ghettos and socio-cultural divisions within the present European archipelago (Fig. 8–9).

9. Thesis project for a Memorial, a Theatre and for the regeneration for public uses of the Waliców street archeological finds. Exploded axonometric view of the project. Drawing from MSc degree Thesis “Waliców, Fortress of the memory” by Sara Pellegrini and Domenico Spagnolo • Politecnico di Milano, 2018. Supervisors: Guido Morpurgo, Annalisa de Curtis

Jonathan Zisook

City University of New York

TOWARDS A SOCIOLOGICAL ANALYSIS OF THE SYNAGOGUE MUSEUM IN CONTEMPORARY POLAND

Introduction

Prior to World War II, 3.3 million Jews lived in Poland, accounting for 10 percent of the population. Warsaw maintained the largest Jewish community in Europe, second only to New York City globally, totalling 30 percent of the capital city. Poland’s cultural capital, Krakow, was a quarter Jewish before WWII, and small villages were often 50 to 80 percent Jewish.[1]

Ninety percent of the Jewish population was murdered in the Holocaust. Most survivors emigrated to the United States, Israel, and Western Europe immediately after WWII – especially following post-war pogroms in Krakow (August 1945) and Kielce (July 1946) – and following the antisemitic political campaign of 1968, where some 13,000 to 18,000 Jews were stripped of their citizenship and forced to emigrate.[2] By 1989 only a few thousand Jews remained in Poland.[3]

With the fall of communism, a small Jewish revival has taken place. Today there are approximately 30,000 Jews in Poland, most of whom reside in three cities: Warsaw, Wrocław, and Krakow. Polish Jews have (re)established robust institutions, including Jewish day schools, Jewish Community Centres, and Orthodox and Reform communities.[4] However, contemporary Polish Jews are still a precarious minority group, making up less than one tenth of one percent of the population. Consequently, the present-day Jewish community requires non-Jewish stewards of memory to help maintain the vast material remains of the pre-war Jewish population, over one hundred times the size of today’s Jewish community. Indeed, Jewish material remains are ubiquitous throughout Poland, including cemeteries, synagogues, schools, ritual bathes, and other former Jewish communal properties. Without these heritage caretakers – often completely anonymous – Jewish memory would cease to exist in many small towns and local communities where no Jews remain.

In this article, I focus on synagogues and the ways in which they are remembered, forgotten, neglected, preserved, and renewed by non-Jewish Poles. I specifically examine the emergence of what I call the Synagogue Museum – a synagogue that is restored and now serves as a local Jewish museum and community centre – as a typological category of Jewish material remains that attempts to reconstruct and reimagine the Jewish past as an identity building project in the Polish present and for the Polish future. Here, my analysis relies upon qualitative sociological fieldwork in the town of Chmielnik, where its magnificently restored synagogue now functions as a museum of Jewish culture and memory. I assess the development and role of the synagogue museum in Chmielnik and offer a theoretical approach that situates the town and its synagogue museum in the context of what historian Diana Pinto terms ‘Jewish space’, what sociologist Y. Michal Bodemann calls a ‘Judaizing milieu’, and what journalist and researcher Ruth Ellen Gruber classifies as ‘virtually Jewish’. However, before directly addressing the subject, I must first briefly distinguish the category of Synagogue Museum from at least four other classifications of synagogue remains.

A typology of synagogue remains

The Synagogue Museum is but one of many options in contemporary Poland. There are at minimum four other categories of synagogue remains, including: (1) Ruins, (2) Rededications, (3) Commercial Exploitations, (4) Forgotten and Unmarked.[5] Here, I briefly outline a typology of synagogue remains, which will help to elucidate the function of the Synagogue Museum.

1. Preserved ruins of Działoszyce synagogue; photo by Jonathan Zisook

2. Post-Sabbath Concert with Jewish Cantors in the Rededicated Isaac Synagogue in Kraków; photo by Jonathan Zisook

3. Hevre Café in former Beit Midrash Hevra Tehilim in Kraków; photo by Jonathan Zisook

Synagogue ruins, both preserved and abandoned, are an ode to the Holocaust and former shtetl life. Ruins call attention to the unnatural absence of Jews in towns and cities once full of Jewish life. They serve as collective memento mori. An impressive example is the preserved synagogue ruins in Diałoszyce (Fig. 1) – built in 1852 and preserved as ruins in 2011 – but many others dot the Polish landscape. Rededications, on the other hand, reflect the contemporary re-emergence of the Polish-Jewish community. Such examples include the Nożyk Synagogue in Warsaw – built between 1898-1902 and fully renovated in 2002 – the Isaac Synagogue (Fig. 2) – erected in 1644 and most recently restored in 1998 – or the White Stork Synagogue in Wrocław – constructed in 1829 and fully renovated in 2010. These rededicated synagogues are actively used by the present-day Jewish community of Poland. In contradistinction are two final categories, which accord little genuine significance to the Jewish past. Commercial exploitations of synagogue remains instrumentalize Jewish heritage for commercial profit. The Hevre Café in Krakow (Fig. 3), originally the Beit Midrash Hevra Tehilim (1896), is one such example. This former synagogue is today a café and pub that serves Jewish style food. The owners exploit its Jewish past in Kazimierz – the historic Jewish district of Krakow – while doing irreparable damage to the late nineteenth and early twentieth-century wall-art and façade of the synagogue, including the destruction of the Torah niche.[6] Finally, abandoned and forgotten synagogues are ever-present in Poland. A prescient example is the former synagogue in Pszczyna (1835) in Upper Silesia (Fig. 4). It was turned into a cinema by the Nazis and continued to serve this function during the Communist period. After the fall of Communism, the building fell into disrepair and was purchased and renovated as a film themed Escape Room – an homage to the movie theatre. No plaque or any other form of memorialization is present. The building’s life as a synagogue for nearly one-hundred years is almost entirely forgotten, reflecting a discursive absence of Jewish memory.[7]

Having now presented a typology of synagogue remains in Poland, I turn specifically to Chmielnik and its synagogue museum as a sociological case study.

Chmielnik and The Synagogue Museum

On the eve of the Second World War, the town of Chmielnik in the Kielce region was overwhelmingly Jewish. Indeed, it was a characteristic shtetl. Of the 12,500 residents in 1939, 10,275 were Jewish (82.2%).[8] The Jewish life of the town came to an abrupt end in March 1943 with the liquidation of the Chmielnik Ghetto and final deportations of Jews to the Nazi death camp Treblinka. Following the war, forty Jews returned to Chmielnik but hostility from some of the local Polish population – including the murder of two Jews in 1945 – led most of the survivors to emigrate.[9] With no Jews remaining in the town and under the Soviet sphere of influence, any Jewish remains were either dispossessed or forgotten. The most visible of Jewish remains was the town synagogue – constructed in the seventeenth century (1633–64). Located north of the market square on Wspólna Street, the synagogue was desecrated by the Nazis in 1942. Like many synagogues in occupied Poland, the Nazis converted the building into a warehouse. Throughout the communist period, the synagogue continued to function as a derelict warehouse, suffering from general neglect and ruin.

4. Former synagogue of Pszczyna; photo by Babafemi Akinrinade

5. Świętokrzyski Shtetl Education and Museum Centre in a restored synagogue in Chmielnik; photo by Babafemi Akinrinade

After the fall of communism, and with growing awareness of Poland’s Jewish past, several Jewish cultural and memorial initiatives sprung up in and around the dilapidated synagogue. With the support of the town mayor Jarosław Zatorski, who served as mayor from 1993 to 2014, the first “Meetings with Jewish Culture” took place in June 2003. The Meetings feature a host of programs, which are both earnest and kitschy at the same time, largely modelled after the annual Jewish Culture Festival in Krakow. These include student plays – where children often perform as fetishized Chasidic Jews with bobbing payot (sidelocks) – klezmer performances, Jewish style food and cooking classes, and speeches from invited guests. The Israeli ambassador to Poland at the time, Professor Szewach Weiss, was invited to inaugurate the first festival, and a number of other prominent figures in Polish-Jewish dialog have attended subsequent meetings, including the author Miriam Akavia. Holocaust survivors from Chmielnik have also been invited and are treated as guests of honour at the yearly events.[10]

With this resurgence of interest in Polish-Jewish culture and memory, the town and municipal council adopted a resolution in 2008 to restore the town synagogue. The decision was made following negotiations with the Jewish Community of Katowice, which ceded its previous claims to ownership of the synagogue on condition that the synagogue would be transformed into a museum of Jewish heritage and memory of the former shtetl. The restoration project, relying upon the fastidious support of Mayor Zatorski and large European Union grants, took place between 2011 and 2013. In November 2013, Chmielnik unveiled the Świętokrzyski Shtetl Education and Museum Centre (Ośrodek Edukacyjno-Muzealny “Świętokrzyski Sztetl”) housed inside the beautifully restored town synagogue (Fig. 5). The synagogue museum was named in honour of Majer Mały, a Holocaust survivor from Chmielnik who emigrated to British Mandatory Palestine immediately after WWII and lived the rest of his life on a kibbutz in Israel. Mały was awarded the Knight’s Cross of the Order of Merit of the Republic of Poland in 2008 and regularly participated in the Meetings of Jewish Culture in his elder years. He made an indelible impact upon Polish-Jewish relations in present-day Chmielnik and was therefore a fitting namesake for the new museum.

6. Conference Room in Świętokrzyski Shtetl Education and Museum Centre; photo by Jonathan Zisook

7. Day of Judaism in Chmielnik; photo by Jonathan Zisook

The restored synagogue has two exhibition levels and incorporates both Judaica objects and multimedia displays in its main exhibition space in the former sanctuary on ground level. In the centre of the exhibition is a glass bimah, which the museum touts as being the only bimah in the world made exclusively of glass. In addition, the ground floor includes a multimedia library and conference room draped in a massive faux tallit (Jewish prayer shawl) canopy (Fig. 6). On the second level is a stage and auditorium that doubles as a temporary exhibitions gallery (Fig. 7). The second floor is situated in the location of the former women’s balcony, which was expanded during the restoration to make the space more useful as a museum and community centre. It certainly accomplishes this goal but also obstructs the visibility of the remnants of original religious wall art in the sanctuary – a decision therefore not without criticism.

The museum exhibition designer, the acclaimed Nizio Design International – the same designer of both the core exhibitions of the Warsaw Rising Museum and the POLIN Museum of the History of Polish Jews in Warsaw – describes the function of the museum as follows:

The key creative premise of the Swietokrzyski Shtetl Museum is the reproduction of the multifaceted cultural and social life, where the architectural context will become the central space for the activities of Chmielnik’s residents. The project is inscribed in the context of two masses: the symbol of light [...] and the symbol of shadow [...] The refurbished synagogue from [the] 17th century will give room to a theatre, a prayer room with the characteristic glass bima[h], and a conference room. The minimalist nature of the exhibition will perfectly harmonize with the story of the former Jewish town, such a synthetic form determinant of the present together with the history of the shtetl. That is why, it gains a new harmonious dimension.[11]

While it may be an exaggeration to claim that the synagogue museum is truly minimalist, the building has arguably become the “central space for the activities of Chmielnik’s residents”, serving as both a museum of Jewish culture and as a local community centre. By commemorating “the town’s rich Jewish past”, the synagogue museum is also attempting “to reconstruct a multicultural life in the town’s monocultural present”.[12] It does this through programming – especially for children – including seminars, the annual Meetings of Jewish Culture, Judaica and art exhibitions, concerts, interfaith events, and other activities. Piotr Krawczyk, the museum’s manager and local archivist, exclaimed to me that he dedicates himself to preserving Chmielnik’s Jewish past because “Jewish history in Chmielnik is Polish history”.[13] Krawczyk has published numerous articles in local and regional papers on the town’s Jewish heritage, as well as co-authored a monograph on Jewish Chmielnik with historian Marek Maciągowski.[14] Krawczyk is joined by former Mayor Zatorski who reiterates that “for our towns and villages the history of the shtetl is the greatest opportunity for a future. Quite simply, this is the past of these places, and without it we will not succeed in building an identity for the present”.[15] Zatorski has continuously emphasised this point during his 21 years as mayor. At the very first Meetings with Jewish Culture in 2003, he proudly proclaimed to the attendees:

Those who remember about their past know how to build their future [...] We are now facing a great challenge. The challenge of the future! Dear inhabitants of Chmielnik! If there is anybody among you that doesn’t believe my words, that doesn’t believe in friendship and brotherhood between the two nations, I would like them to change their opinion. I would like all of us to understand that it is only through friendship and kindness that we can build our future.[16]

For Krawczyk, Zatorski, and many others who were instrumental in the creation of the synagogue museum in Chmielnik, the Jewish past of the town – where Jews and Christians lived side by side for hundreds of years – provides a space to consider what it means to live in the town’s monocultural present and how to build a more diverse future.

8. Opening of Temporary Exhibition at Świętokrzyski Shtetl Education and Museum Centre; photo by Jonathan Zisook

Another important forum that the synagogue museum has hosted every year since its restoration are the Catholic ‘Days of Judaism’. Established by the Polish Episcopate in 1997, the Days of Judaism have taken place in Poland since 1998. The annual festivities are organised in one rotating central location, while smaller participating events occur throughout the country. The goal of the Days of Judaism is to foster Christian-Jewish dialogue, “as well as prayer and reflection on the relationships of both religions”.[17] I accompanied Rabbi Samuel Rosenberg of Krakow on 16 January 2019 for the most recent iteration of the Day of Judaism in Chmielnik (Fig. 8), part of the larger nationwide Days of Judaism taking place in Łódź. Rabbi Rosenberg, along with Rabbi Yehoshua Ellis – Chief Rabbi of Katowice – participated in a congenial debate with Fathers Jan Oleszko (Catholic) of Kielce and Wojciech Rutkowski (Evangelical) of Radom. Father Rutkowski expressed the need to “conduct dialog as a means of remembering the Jews who were murdered by Hitler”, while Father Oleszko reminded the audience that “Pope John Paul II taught us to love the Jews”. This sentiment was articulated even more powerfully by the representative of the Bishop of Kielce, Father Dariusz Gącik, in his opening remarks at the Day of Judaism in Chmielnik:

This great Jewish culture is also our culture and we cannot understand our past without reflecting upon the Jews who lived here. In the Days of Judaism, we follow Pope John Paul II who taught us that the Jews are our elder brothers in faith. We have much to learn from our brothers, the Jews, who can teach us [Catholics] about faith and rachamim,[18] which they practiced here in Poland and in Chmielnik. We should not forget them.[19]

The two rabbis concurred with their religious counterparts, but also inserted a respectful critique of the event by emphasizing the necessity of Jews as dialog partners for ‘real dialog to occur’. Given the present demographic reality of the town, where no Jews have lived since WWII, “this marvellous event”, said Rabbi Ellis, “is still the Day of Judaism without Jews”. Similarly noteworthy was the lack of critical reflection by the priests and organizers of the event, who selectively emphasised only positive relations between Jews and Poles, while evading the difficult topics of anti-Jewish violence and historic antisemitism. This is striking given the proximity of Chmielnik to Kielce, where 42 Jews – mostly destitute Holocaust survivors – were murdered by their Polish neighbours in response to a ritual murder accusation in July 1946.[20] In Chmielnik itself, two returning Jews were murdered by their neighbours one year earlier.[21] While Rabbis Ellis and Rosenberg did not explicitly mention these facts during the debate, they implied such a critique by pointing out that Jewish memory and Polish memory of Jews are not one and the same. In general, this critique could be levelled at the synagogue museum more broadly, as its exhibition “enables [the] discovery of numerous sites where Poles and Jews used to coexist peacefully” until the Jews were “wiped off the map by World War II and the Holocaust”.[22] But, this narrative belies the times where it was not peaceful and where Poles and Jews did not live harmoniously, exemplified most terribly by the Jedwabne massacre in July 1941 and the post-war Kielce pogrom.[23] Of course, these horrific events do not reflect the entirety of Polish-Jewish relations for close to a thousand years, nor should the bravery and sacrifice of Poles who rescued Jews and resisted the Germans valiantly during WWII be forgotten. Irrespectively, however, the synagogue museum in Chmielnik does present a pacified version of history. One Chmielnik resident told me: “we love Jews, we loved Jewish people! We tried to help Jews during the war, to save Jews, but now we only have the synagogue and the [Jewish] cemetery. We must remember the Jews and this history!” Her earnestness was palpable, but it reflects an uncritical narrative largely perpetuated by the museum, the Day of Judaism, and the Meetings with Jewish Culture.

In a highly critical article in the intellectual Catholic journal Tygodnik Powszechny, progressive theologian Zuzanna Radzik similarly accuses Chmielnik of superficially remembering its Jews. Radzik claims that Chmielnik lacks serious self-reflection on the Jewish past and instead fosters “joyful but slightly shallow festival[s]” geared towards drawing large crowds, tourists, and banal entertainment.[24] She further questions the sincerity of Chmielnik’s Jewish culture initiatives when local Home Army heroes who denounced and killed Jews during the Holocaust are still celebrated in the town. In response, historian Agnieszka Sabor, who has closely studied the developments in Chmielnik and neighbouring shtetls,[25] rebutted Radzik’s critique in the pages of the same journal. Sabor praises Chmielnik for its determined grass-roots effort to commemorate the town’s Jewish past since the fall of Communism, even if it is at times kitschy and anachronistic. Sabor points out that “little Chmielnik has dared to do something no other town or city in Poland has done so far [...] The local government, supported by a few enthusiasts, made the Polish-Jewish dialog its main political objective. This policy is implemented consistently and systematically – taking the risk of losing each, consecutive local election”.[26] In fact, Zatorski was defeated in 2014 by an opponent less enthusiastic to spending town funds on preserving Jewish heritage. Thus, while Radzik rightly criticises Chmielnik and the often-facile engagement with Jewish culture in Poland – something I have also observed in my research – I am nevertheless sympathetic to Sabor’s position.

Despite the sometimes kitschy, anachronistic, and even shallow engagement with its Jewish past, the town of Chmielnik has done something extraordinary. It restored a derelict synagogue that otherwise would have fallen into complete ruins. It is not self-evident in Poland that synagogue remains will be maintained or even restored, let alone rededicated as functioning houses of worship by the small Jewish community. There are no Jews in Chmielnik, nor is Chmielnik a popular tourist destination, although to be sure the synagogue museum is intended to be an engine of tourism in the “socioeconomic dimensions of nostalgia” among locals and visitors.[27] That the local government of Chmielnik developed an impressive, albeit imperfect, museum that commemorates the rich Jewish past of the town and region, is unique and laudatory. The building could have just as easily been restored for some alternative purpose and commercially exploited like the Hevre Café in Krakow or entirely forgotten and unmarked like the synagogue in Pszczyna. This is apparent when situated comparatively within a typology of synagogue remains in Poland. Furthermore, the synagogue museum is one of the only institutions in Chmielnik that is actively involved in civic engagement and encourages cultural pluralism in an ethnically and religiously homogeneous society. The synagogue museum thus helps to construct a new narrative of Polish identity in the town and region, one which celebrates its historic diversity. Regardless of how idyllic and uncritical the museum’s presentation of Polish-Jewish relations, Chmielnik deserves cautious praise for constructing a ‘Jewish space’ in its contemporary context.

From Jewish space to virtual Jewishness

The Synagogue Museum as a category of Jewish material remains plays an active role in the development of what historian Diana Pinto calls ‘Jewish space’. First articulated in 1996, Jewish space, according to Pinto, expresses “a new cultural and social phenomenon [...] inside each European nation with a significant history of Jewish life”. Pinto explains that “there are two aspects” to Jewish space. “The first is the gradual integration of the Holocaust into each country’s understanding of its national history and into twentieth-century history in general. And the second is the revival of ‘positive Judaism’”.[28] The first aspect of Jewish space thus entails the “recognition and incorporation of the Holocaust into national and European histories through memorials, monuments, and museums”.[29] And, the second – ‘positive Judaism’ – Pinto conceives of as “a form of expressive living Judaism, irrespective of whether there are or are not any Jewish actors in the Jewish space”.[30] Positive Judaism in Pinto’s formulation thus includes the proliferation of Jewish cuisine, art, literature, music, and festivals. In this regard, the synagogue museum in Chmielnik realises both aspects of Pinto’s conception of Jewish space. It is a monument to the murdered Jews of the town and a continuously evolving and imperfect zone of ‘positive Judaism’.

While Pinto was analysing the development of European Jewish space as a theoretical model, the sociologist Y. Michal Bodemann was similarly describing “the recuperation of Jewish culture and intellectual life” in Germany during the 1990s “as taking place within a ‘Judaizing milieu’ [judaisierendes Milieu] and as part of a ‘theatre of memory’ [Gedächtnistheater] connected to Kristallnacht and the Holocaust”.[31] For Bodemann, unlike Pinto however, ‘real’ Jews are almost entirely peripheral to the construction of a Judaizing milieu, while Pinto implies some participation of actual living Jews in the Jewish space in order to develop European Jewish identity as a ‘third pillar’ of post-war Jewry along with the United States and Israel.[32] Building upon these overlapping sociohistorical conceptualizations, journalist and researcher Ruth Ellen Gruber aptly reclassifies the phenomenon as ‘virtual Jewishness’ in her influential work Virtually Jewish: Reinventing Jewish Culture in Europe. Gruber writes:

‘Universalization’ of the Jewish phenomenon and its integration into the mainstream European consciousness, this emergence of a ‘Judaizing terrain’ and ‘Judaizing milieux’ in all their widely varied, conscious and unconscious, manifestations [can be understood] as a ‘filling’ of the Jewish space. This is a process that in turn encompasses the creation of a ‘virtual Jewishness,’ a ‘virtual Jewish world,’ peopled by ‘virtual Jews’ who perform [...] Jewish culture from an outsider perspective, alongside or often in the absence of local Jewish populations.[33]

In this articulation, Gruber relies upon both Pinto’s and Bodemann’s analyses and develops a theoretical framework to investigate contemporary European Jewish culture largely in the absence of Jews.

Chmielnik is a textbook example of the virtual Jewish phenomenon. It is both a Jewish space and a Judaizing milieu that gives rise to virtual Jewishness. In the absence of ‘real’ Jews in the town and with only the occasional Jewish visitor at the Meetings with Jewish Culture or Day of Judaism, ‘Jewish cultural products’, like food, music, or art, “may take precedence over living Jewish culture.”[34] As a consequence, bizarre, kitschy, or fetishized conceptions of the Jewish past divorced from reality are often proudly showcased with little self-reflection. Taken too far, this can lead to “a popular image of the Jew as an ‘other,’ [and] an exotic perpetual outsider,” which is “paradoxically [...] fostered by a surge of interest in Jewish culture”.[35] Yet, at its best, virtual Jewishness – as reflected in Chmielnik – serves as a means of symbolically reclaiming a pluralistic past, which was upended by the Holocaust and suppressed by the Communist state. In so doing, a Synagogue Museum – a socially constructed virtual Jewish space – has the potential to foster new and diverse identities for the present and future.

Conclusion

Synagogues are inescapably present in the Polish landscape. They are physical reminders of the vibrant Jewish community that called and still calls Poland home. Some of these synagogues languish in ruin. Some have been beautifully rededicated for use by the small Jewish community. Some are movie theatres, and some are banks. Others have been converted into local museums of Jewish culture and memory. I have analysed the development of one specific Synagogue Museum in Chmielnik, which is a paradigmatic Jewish space and characteristic of virtual Jewishness. And, while it is not without criticism, the Chmielnik project is also a meditation on the responsibility of former shtetls to memorialize their Jewish residents and to celebrate Jewish history as an integral part of Polish history. A Synagogue Museum thus has the potential to reimagine Jewish space and to inspire new forms of identity. “Quite simply”, says Mayor Zatorski, “this is the past of these places, and without it we will not succeed in building an identity for the present” or for the “future”.

Zdeněk Novák

Czech Ministry of Culture

LANDSCAPE MUSEUM FOR BREEDING AND TRAINING OF CEREMONIAL CARRIAGE HORSES AT KLADRUBY NAD LABEM IN CZECHIA

The landscape for breeding and training of imperial ceremonial carriage horses at Kladruby nad Labem is a special museum offering more than 500 years of experience of how the people who bred horses in individual historical periods considered the sustainable use of landscape, and of natural resources and their cultivation. The terrain, soil, climate, water and vegetation were used and also cultivated to the extent the then farming customs and degree of knowledge allowed for breeding horses for an important European Imperial Court. The landscape still bears the authentic traces of this development since the oldest days. In the same way the horse breeding and training know-how that became the main source of income for local population was developing. Hand in hand with this development these people were also taking care of the landscape.

The breed of Kladruber gala carrossiers for the imperial court in Vienna was bred and stabilised already in the early eighteenth century thanks to the favourable natural conditions of the landscape. Hence Emperor Charles VI’s decree that launched in 1721 new construction development of the stud farm.

The first military map from 1764 to 1768 gives us quite a convincing picture of the landscape: the natural structure of the forest, meadows and pastures plots respecting the natural conditions. The roads were planned to be passable even in time of floods.

The decision to create an imperial stud farm that was to serve the Imperial Court meant also major changes in the stud farm organisation. Ignaz Grill of Warimfeld, the director of the Imperial Equerry Office in Vienna, set the professional requirements, and Mauritz Jahn took over the project design works in 1821. The property as a whole was to represent the emperor and demonstrate the order of his rule. The principles selected for the reconstruction were already obsolete principles of garden and landscape architecture represented particularly by André le Nôtre; however, they were handled in a creative manner and applied with regard to the breeding and training of ceremonial carriage horses. The principal changes to the landscape were carried out following the concept approved in the 1820s. The stud farm should have consisted of three farmsteads (Kladruby nad Labem, Josefov and Františkov) in a moderate Classicist style connected by straight avenues lined by Lombardy poplars (Populus nigra ‘Italica’), also the favourites of French gardeners. Parallel to that, the first extensive works were organised on meadows and pastures between 1819 and 1822.

Main complex is the place where the stallions and mares crosses

The main communication routes were built between 1822 and 1830. The plan worked with two main axes: Selmická Avenue running from Kladruby nad Labem towards Týnec nad Labem, and Řečanská Avenue running in the direction of the Elbe River. The two intersect in the entrance to the stables for mares and stallions at the Kladruby nad Labem farmstead. The architecture of the yard viewed from the entrance to the stables creates the impression of a patte d’oie, but today the left axis does not continue from the yard into the landscape. Between 1828 and 1831 the Františkov farmstead was built on the axis running to Týnec nad Labem (Prague).

Complying with the French garden principles, the axis runs through the symmetrical building and continues to the ‘infinity’ for the total length of 4.5 km. In 1830, the Selmická Avenue was planted with Lombardy poplars. Following the construction of Kladruby nad Labem – Františkov axis, the rectangular grid of pastures was gradually developed and they were being cultivated. The pastures were usually planted with one group of trees fenced against damage caused by grazing horses (clumps). In addition to wooden fencing, the pastures were also separated by alleyways. The newly constructed direct connection between Kladruby nad Labem and Františkov together with the newly established pastures affected the area of forests. The southern border of Obora forest in the section ‘Pod sklepy’ and further westwards retreated towards north to the today’s border. It was lined by horse chestnut alleyway (Aesculus hipocastanum). The forests that are the former game park and the pheasantry were administered by the Pardubice estate until 1859, when they were transferred under the administration of the Imperial Court. Then they were replanted in the regular grid of vegetation captured in the map from 1876.

The biggest construction project in the second half of the nineteenth century was that of St Wenceslas and Leopold Church, a part of the stud farm and manor house at Kladruby nad Labem village, in a style corresponding to that of Kladruby farmstead yard. In 1865, Josef Wollenik built stables for English thoroughbreds called Paddock. The Romanticist brick structure interrupted the axis leading to Josefov and it was later complemented with decorative wooden plants. Probably it was to evoke the English countryside atmosphere in accord with the abovementioned establishment of picturesque clumps of trees in the pastures and fully corresponded with the character of landscape, serving primarily for horse breeding and training.

The 1st military mapping map (1764–1768) gives us quite a convincing picture of the landscape: the natural structure of the forest, meadows and pastures plots respecting the natural conditions

The 2nd military mapping map (1806–1869) shows the arrangement of the landscape through the avenues and cabinets de verdure

A new neo-Gothic St Lawrence Church designed by architect Jan Hrádek, a local dominant feature, was built in 1903–1905. It also did not affect the composition of the landscape.

An outstanding element of the landscape at Kladruby nad Labem, absent in other places used for breeding of horses in Europe, is The Mošnice landscape park. The establishment of the park was supervised by Anton Umlauf,[1] the chief director of the Imperial Gardens in Vienna. The Mošnice Park modifications were reflected also in other parts of the area:

– Apple tree avenues were planted in the neighbourhood of Josefov farmstead in a regular pattern, one apple tree alleyway was located in the western part of the farmstead and bordered the park;

– Italian poplars in The Selmická and Řečanská Avenues were replaced by lime trees (Tilia cordata);

– The manor house garden was landscaped, the modifications included foundation of an alpinium and new plantings of mainly newly introduced conifers. Similarly, the common grounds of Kladruby nad Labem were improved;

– The image of English countryside incited the plantation of hedgerows and ivy by the buildings. The common grounds of Kladruby nad Labem were amended in a similar manner.

The result of the processes described briefly above is a unique place with its clear breeding function, composed of two contrasting and yet interconnected parts:

– Formally organised pasture landscape based on the principles of a French garden (alley, étoile, patte d’oie, bosquets with a cabinet de verdure) with intentionally suppressed architecture of the farmsteads, an unobtrusive structure of the buildings and sculptures accentuating the important sites;

– The romantic landscaped park at Mošnice designed on the principles of painting perspective enriched by a wide range of tree species planted there.

Unlike many similar landscapes[2] based on architectural dominants, the landscape composition of this places intentionally suppresses the architecture. Yet, its architecture is refined and comparable to other analogical imperial, royal or noble sites. It is screened from sight by vegetation, it is not open to any intentionally designed vistas and thus it is not the prime element of the visible landscape order, but it becomes its naturally anticipated centre of gravity because of its primary utilitarian function.

Manor house hidden by trees

The landscape for breeding carriage horses is situated on the alluvial plain on the right bank of the Elbe River – the flat terrain with the remains of oxbow lakes hidden behind trees. The river is not an important feature in the scenery. The remains of floodplain forest, a part of its section adjacent to the river, became the core of Mošnice Park. In the north, the park is lined with a stretch of meadows and pastures closed on their northern side by a forest of mostly coniferous trees (Pinus sylvestris, Pinus strobus, some deciduous trees) growing on a slightly elevated sand terrace. The forest forms background to the composed sceneries. This basic segmentation of the landscape into three zones – the predominantly grassed zone lined with really or seemingly wooded zones – contains the uniquely composed landscape reflecting in a rare manner its purpose and creating the ornamented farm – ferme ornée.

The farmstead buildings – Kladruby nad Labem, Františkov and Josefov – create three central points of the landscape principal composition structure based on the monumental, predominantly lime tree avenues. The longest of them is 3.2 km long – Selmická Avenue – stretching towards the gate of Františkov farmstead and then continuing as 0.75 km long poplar avenue to the western border of the property to disappear there. The Řečanská Avenue is 1.5 km long, Semínská – 0.25 km, Koleská poplar alleyway has 0.4 km, Kaštánka – 0.9 km, and oak alleyway – 0.6 km. The tree alleys remind the visitors of the so-called imperial avenues commonly planted in the Habsburg Monarchy since the rule of Emperor Karl VI along the main imperial roads. Straight avenues flanked in the vicinity of farmsteads by well-maintained hedgerows resemble the monumental landscaping and urban projects according to the principles of André Le Nôtre (e.g. Versailles,[3] Blenheim Palace,[4] Chateau Augustusburg and Falkenlust in Brühl,[5] Caserta,[6] Saint Petersburg,[7] and Peterhof).

Avenue to Františkov Stable

The Řečanská and Selmická Avenues lead from the entrance to the main mare and stallion stables at Kladruby nad Labem farmstead. This forms the main composition node of the whole landscape. Contrary to the examples from other countries, the focal point of the landscape is the entrance to the stables rather than a castle or palace gate, despite the fact that there is the Imperial Manor House at the farmstead. Neither is it the traditional cour d’honneur in front of a chateau or palace, on the same axis with the buildings as was common in the Baroque and Classicist designs, for, in this case, it is represented by the courtyard the main axis of which goes via the Řečanská Gate towards the centre of the patte d’oie in the gate leading to the central farmstead. The courtyard perimeter is defined by the stables with its south wing housing the Coach House and Tack Store, by the Řečanská Gate and the line of lime trees that screen off the Manor House. The emphasis placed on the landscape’s breeding function is also strengthened by the simple design of the Imperial Manor House which does not dominate the courtyard of the farmstead but seems to play a secondary role in the overall visual impression of the place.

Around the central gate of the farmstead, the layout of the buildings defining the cour d’honneur upholds the landscape principle of patte d’oie. The central axis (Řečanská Avenue) passing through the Řečanská Gate in the south wing, originally flanked by a couple of Italian poplars (Populus nigra ‘Italica’), continues in a lime tree avenue and ends in ‘infinity’. The right, west-eastern axis (Selmická Avenue) passes through the side gate with two white pillars and continues with a lime tree avenue, ending in ‘infinity’. The left axis, which is still traceable in the landscape, was later disrupted by the construction of the Paddock stable and its fencing as well as planting.

The Selmická Avenue seemingly ends with the monumental building of Františkov farmstead. Its axis, however, leads further through the symmetrical portal of the entrance building and continues through the group of trees planted in the middle of the farmyard to line it, and then it continues westwards as another alleyway to the landscape of pastures behind the farmstead to end in the ‘infinity’.

Similarly to the Kladruby nad Labem farmstead, the architecture of Františkov farmstead buildings is intentionally inconspicuous, even though it is similarly extensive and, under different conditions, would be considered monumental. It features a soft light grey-green façade with simple, white decorative elements, red roofs made of fired clay tiles, all of which are partially screened by an avenue creating a consistent whole and the appearance of farmsteads architecture. The same pattern is followed in the third farmstead – Josefov – that should have been originally accessed by the third axis patte d’oie. The architecture of Josefov is not as monumental as that of the first two farmsteads, and the buildings resemble the neighbouring vernacular architecture of the Polabí (The Elbe Lowland) region villages. The same applies to the neighbouring smaller-scale landscape composition.

Regular landscape raster

The landscape consists mainly of grassland, particularly meadows and pastures. Two types of woody plantings prevail: straight lines of trees and contrasting picturesque clumps and solitary trees (in the spirit of an English garden designed by Capability Brown). The structure of linear plantings in the landscape is hierarchical. The monumental lime tree avenues (first class structure) are linked to the linear tree plantings that represent organisational and compositional structure of a lower class. They are avenues bounding almost rectangular pasture plots along the Selmická Avenue and then apple trees lining the roads near the Josefov farmstead (repeated to a certain extent in the western part of the property near the Mošnice landscaped park).

All types of linear plantings comply with the idea of a ferme ornée and at the same time they perform both the compositional and utilitarian functions. Even the lime tree avenues serve as a ground for carriage horses training in-hand, tree-lined avenues provide shade to grazing horses and protect them from strong winds and the apples supplement their fodder.

The longest apple tree alley (1.4 km) starts in the middle of the Řečanská Avenue and stretches to the eastern border of the property. Another apple tree avenue begins by a waterway from the point marked with a Baroque statue of St John of Nepomuk and runs for 0.5 km to merge with the former avenue. The monumental Koleská Avenue (0.75 km), lined with lime trees starts from the same place (later bypassing Kladruby nad Labem farmstead), and is crossed by the poplar lined (Populus nigra ‘Italica’) avenue running parallel to the Selmická Avenue. Alleys and avenues thus form a six-ray star (étoile) the centre of which is at the statue of John Nepomuk. This creates the basis of a distinct (acute) triangle shaped pasture plots. The views through the avenues forming the star are not focused on any architectural or artistic landmarks, they end in the ‘infinity’ either missing the buildings completely or going through the open gates of the buildings hidden behind the treetops.

The triangle-shaped pastures form a gentle structure of the plots linked to small pastures by Josefov farmstead. The linear plantings of trees between pastures evoke the impression of a cabinet de verdure in bosquets of French gardens. In French gardens these cabinets have either aesthetic or entertainment functions. Here they serve as pastures in a well-thought utilitarian composition. A visitor not acquainted with the stud farm operation rules who walks along the avenues and looks into the individual cabinets will be surprised to see horses there, usually white but sometimes also black.[8] The cabinet de verdure with picturesque groups of trees in the middle and grazing horses resemble English parks. The clumps are formed by groups of indigenous trees – oaks (Quercus robur), lime trees (Tilia cordata and Tilia platyphyllos) and ash trees (Fraxinus angustifolia). This combination of French and English garden principles is unique.

The white fences lining the main avenues and enclosing the pastures further strengthen the sense of order in the same way as the whitewashed fences protecting the trees in the pastures (cabinets de verdure) from trampling and nibbling by animals.

The key purpose of linear plantings is the organisation of pastoral landscape into areas corresponding to the varying needs of the heard (pastures for mares and mares with foals, for foals and for individual stallions) so that the number of pastures enables smooth rotation to provide sufficient amount of fodder and also prevents their damage as well as suffering of the horses.

Gardenesque part of Mošnice Park

The linear plantings divide the landscape into squares and they act as windbreaks and sun screens that are very important for horses grazing on pastures, similar to clumps at the pastures and trees along the roads for training of horses in-hand. At the same time the linear plantings also bring order to the landscape and create an axial scenery comparable to the compositions applied in French landscape layouts.

From its last stretch, the Řečanská Avenue (from the entrance to the main stable) branches off towards west a picturesque road lined with red oaks (Quercus rubens) similar in dimensions to the lime-tree avenues. It passes through the Mošnice Landscape Park and ends in the road lined from the west by old willows (Salix viminalis) that crosses the Selmická Avenue by a gamekeeper’s lodge near Selmická Vrata.

The Mošnice Park is an outstanding romantic landscape site. Its composition is based on the original vegetation of a riparian forest (Quercus robur, Ulmus laevis, Tilia cordata, Prunus padus) and preserved oxbow lakes of the former meanders of the Elbe River before it was canalised.

Spatial illusion in Mošnice Park

The Mošnice Park begins with an alley of red oaks (Quercus rubens). At the end of this alley there is a small bridge that opens into a vista of an oxbow lake. The only lane in the park with a compacted surface continues in an elegant simple sigmoid consisting of two bends; the radius of the right one is about 300 metres. This radius was determined by the purpose of the lane which was not intended for walks but for a ride in a carriage. In fact, the entire park was designed with carriages in the mind. Impressive landscape sceneries open in a fan-like manner around the road follow the recommendations aimed at the creation of painting perspective in the composition of a landscaped park. The application of principles of oblique anamorphosis to the garden design is based on the selection of colourful woody plants in suitable places (vistas) to create an illusion of a bigger (deeper) or smaller (shorter) space to achieve the desirable impression of the composition.[9] For example, plantings of bluish conifers at the end of a vista contribute to the visual effect of a deeper space while darker in colour conifers seem to be further away. By a careful combination of trees and shrubs the illusion of a hill or valley can be achieved, and the visual effect can be multiplied by the reflection of plants on water, etc. For the first time, the principle of perspective in the landscape design was used in Lednice park,[10] and by Count Ernst of Silva-Tarouca when he started the Průhonice Park.[11] By applying this principle, he was able to create a visual effect of a space comparable with that of Giani Lorenzo Bernini (St Peter’s Square in Vatican) or André Le Nôtre in Vaux-Le--Vicomte and Versailles) who achieved the space illusions (perspective ralentie, anamorphosis) through a geometric arrangement. Lednice’s gardeners and Silva-Tarouca were the first landscape architects who had the access to a wide range of woody plants needed for creating such visual effects.

At the Mošnice Park this principle was creatively developed and applied in a unique and until then unknown way.[12] The road is lined with solitary trees of rare wood species (Ginkgo biloba, Picea breweriana, Juniperus virginiana, Platanus acerifolia), picturesque acacias (Robinia pseudoacacia and Robinia pseudoacacia ‘Tortuosa’), ash trees (Fraxinus excelsior ‘Pendula’), and remarkable combinations of woody plants in small groups. They begin with a simple group of green and purple beeches (Fagus sylvatica a Fagus sylvatica ‘Atropunicea’) and end with contrasting combinations of a spruce (Picea abies), hornbeam (Carpinus betulus), horse chestnut (Aesculus hippocastaneum). The views opening from the road are either open or framed by the horizontal oak branches and they focus on attractive solitary trees or their groups. The composition employs all the instruments of distorted painting perspective and brightens the park sceneries with various colours, from yellow green blossoming lime trees or light green willows, whitish crowns of blossoming chestnuts (Castanea sativa) to white crowns of blooming conkers (Aesculus hippocastaneum), catalpas (Catalpa bignonioides), rare Tatar pear trees or silver lime trees (Tilia argentea) and white poplars (Populus alba), contrasting with dark groups of spruces, maples (Acer platanoides ‘Schwedleri’) and beach trees (Fagus sylvatica or Fagus sylvatica ‘Atropunicea’).

Imperial equipage with eight stallions

Oxbow lakes play an important role in the park composition. The vegetation around them, carefully selected with regard to their colours, reflect in the water. The composition takes into account a wide range of colours changing throughout a day and year. The author of the park grouped the trees similarly to the way used in Lednice Park, so that their contrasting effect worked throughout the year, which can be demonstrated on the group made up of spruces, hornbeams and conkers giving the different effect in the morning, midday or in the evening, in spring, summer, autumn and winter.

The use of rare maple sycamore (Acer pseudoplatanus ‘Leopoldii’) variant is particularly exceptional. It can be found in the park in several solitaires always in different sceneries so that the beauty of the tree came to the fore sometimes in front of a contrasting background (e.g. reddish maple Acer platanoides ‘Schwedleri’), sometimes as a stand-alone to allow the sun to lighten up its crown. Such a composition is to be found neither in English parks nor in those on the continent at Wörlitz,[13] Potsdam,[14] or in Muskau.[15]

South of the road the views reveal meadows planted with more or less regularly placed attractive solitary trees (gardenesque style) of the same height (Picea pungens, Acer pseudoplatanus ‘Leopoldii’, Fraxinus angustifolia, Quercus robur, Quercus rubens) that create a colourful spectrum. The colours change with seasons and the relations between the colours and textures also change from contrast to harmony as visitors move along the road depending on the distance between the trees. The opposite side of the road offers the scenery of another park lake mirroring the surrounding vegetation. In this south-western section, the oldest oaks still stand that come from the original littoral vegetation along the Elbe River. The exit from the park opens a view of two purple beech crowns (Fagus sylvatica ‘Atropunicea’) standing in front of an apple-tree avenue reverberating the landscape organisation in the eastern part of the property. Further in the back pops up the Selmická Avenue which, viewed from this angle, forms the scenery backdrop.

In the Mošnice Park, unlike in country parks of the same era, there are no follies or statues and its beauty is based solely on premeditated application of wood plants and work with light.

North of the strip of pastures, behind the Kaštánka (Aesculus hippocastaneum) Avenue, stretches a predominantly coniferous forest that provides the stud farm with timber necessary for fencing, construction works and with fire wood. The individual sections of the forest are organised orthogonally into plots of similar sizes as the pastures. Similar spatial organisation applies also to the network of roads serving the training of horses. Parallel to the Selmická Avenue runs a forest clearing called Dlouhá alej (Long Alleyway) (3.5 km) used for the training of horses in-hand.

The forest vegetation thus creates a negative print of the pastoral landscape: instead of ‘empty’ two-dimensional pastures, there are three-dimensional volumes of vegetation, instead of linear plantings – the ‘empty’ clearings, yet everything follows the same model (ferme ornée) with the aim that the productive forest, used in the most efficient way possible, is also aesthetically compatible with the adjacent pastoral landscape.

The landscape for breeding and training of imperial ceremonial carriage horses at Kladruby nad Labem is an example of the compositional contrast of an ornamented farm (ferme ornée) developed in two stages – in the 1820s (stage one) and then almost hundred years later at the beginning of the twentieth century (stage two), in which its economic purpose was fully respected and expressed by the means of landscape architecture. It is an exceptional fusion of the principles of generous landscape compositions in the spirit of the superior French garden architecture (André le Nôtre) applied in stage one, combined with the principles of the English landscape architecture adding picturesque features such as clumps to the rationally ordered landscape, with the climax achieved in the romantic landscaped park (stage two) where the principles of manipulative painting perspective were applied thanks to a wide range of cultivated plants unknown before. The creative skills of architects and means available to them resulted in a utilitarian landscape which is on a par with gardens by French landscape architects and – in the case of the Mošnice Park – with English and German landscape architects due to the principles of perspective applied there to create visual illusions.

The principles of the utility, decorative and entertainment gardens are blended together to produce a harmonious whole. Using the ideas of the French garden to emphasise the function of the landscape as a crossbreeding site of horses (the focus of the composition is the place where the stallions and mares crosses) also has no analogy in the comparable stud farms.

Lisa Moran

Curator: Engagement and Learning, the Irish Museum of Modern Art

INHERITANCE AND TRANSFORMATION, AND THE IRISH MUSEUM OF MODERN ART

The Irish Museum of Modern Art (IMMA) was opened in 1991, shortly after the end of the Cold War and seven years before the Good Friday Agreement which brought an end to what was euphemistically referred to as ‘the Troubles’. This was a period of sectarian violence largely acted out in Northern Ireland but which also extended into the Republic of Ireland and to Britain, lasting nearly thirty years. The Museum’s inaugural exhibition “Inheritance and Transformation”, in 1991, curated by IMMA’s first Director Declan McGonagle, set out the manifesto for IMMA, claiming that, in the late twentieth century:

to be local is to be international, to be marginal (from which Ireland has suffered in recent history) is actually to be central.[1]

IMMA has had several directors since 1991; however, McGonagle’s inaugural manifesto remains a legitimate and relevant framework within which to consider how IMMA, as a national cultural institution, contributes to and shapes cultural identity in Ireland. Over the past four decades, IMMA has played an important role in reflecting and giving expression to the evolving social, cultural and political identity of Ireland manifest in its exhibitions, collections and public engagement programmes. In this paper, I show how this founding manifesto has unfolded, focusing on a number of artists who have exhibited in IMMA, including Willie Doherty, Miroslaw Balka, Emily Jacir, and Shane Cullen, to demonstrate how this manifesto has been implemented well beyond the term and direction of IMMA’s first director.

1. The Irish Museum of Modern Art, Royal Hospital Kilmainham, Dublin

I will discuss the role of the museum as a reflection of the changing identity of Ireland over several decades and as a locus for the renegotiation of identity, taking account of the complex network of relationships between centre and periphery, North and South, Ireland and the United Kingdom and Ireland and Europe.

McGonagle honed his skills as a curator in the 1980s, in the Orchard Gallery, in Derry. Also known as Londonderry, the city is a contested and troubled place at the heart of the sectarian violence of the Troubles. The Orchard Gallery was a new and experimental space where McGonagle established his credentials as an innovative curator. He brought international artists to Derry and promoted Irish artists abroad. He honed his interest in politically and socially engaged art at a time when such work was not yet taken seriously by the mainstream.

In many ways, McGonigal was the embodiment of the local and the international. Coming from Derry, his formative experiences in that fault line between Northern Ireland and the Republic informed the prevailing political and socially engaged cast to his thinking and his curatorial practice. But McGonagle also operated with ease on the international stage, having worked as exhibitions director in the ICA in London, in the early 1980s, he curated and wrote about international artists and regularly contributed to international journals such as Artforum. In 1987 he became the first curator to be shortlisted for the Turner Prize for his work in the Orchard Gallery.

IMMA was established, in 1991, under conditions of compromise and contingency. Some of those who argued for a museum of modern art at the time, wanted a state-of-the-art, white-cube venue in the city centre. However, the Royal Hospital Kilmainham, an architecturally and historically significant building on the outskirts of Dublin, completed in 1684, had been refurbished by the state in the 1980s and was in need of a purpose. A former retirement home for soldiers in the British Army, it was a challenging space to accommodate the needs of contemporary art. However, with strong political support, it was designated as the location of the new Irish Museum of Modern Art. Employing what the writer and curator John Hutchinson referred to as ‘imaginative lateral thinking’, McGonagle framed this decision in terms of an opportunity rather than a compromise.[2] In his statement at the opening of IMMA, we see an indication of his capacity to be both visionary and pragmatic:

there is no better place in Dublin for a museum of modern art because it is a place charged with historical significance. It leaves the standard art museum, the custom-built clean white box, far behind and exists in a world artists are beginning to address. It’s a museum of the future, a place rather than a space, and will be good for 100 years.[3]

The purpose of the Museum was also subject to dispute; debate ensued as to whether it was to be an Irish Museum of Modern Art or a Museum of Modern Irish Art? While Ireland had a Municipal Art Gallery and a National Gallery, up until this point, there had been no single venue where it was possible to get an overview or art historical account of Irish art. In consultation with his board, McGonagle made it clear that IMMA would be an Irish Museum of Modern Art – where Irish and international art were represented within thematic rather than national frameworks – always merging the local and the international.

The museum opened with a small budget which presented considerable challenges and constraints to both programming and acquisitions. As Hutchinson noted, “An alternative, less conventional attitude to the project seemed to be called for – an attitude less focused on an acquisition and ownership than on the idea of art as a form of activity, process and transformation”.[4] From the outset, McGonagle recognised the need to replace traditional museum methodology with a strategy that was both pragmatic and relevant. Diversity rather than homogeneity would be the museum’s keynote and this was embedded in the opening manifesto.

With “Inheritance and Transformation”, McGonagle acknowledged, and turned to his advantage, the contingencies of the circumstances within which the Museum of Modern Art came into being. He acknowledged what he was inheriting: a select, eclectic collection, a historic building loaded with colonial baggage, a limited budget, and a divisive and partisan arts sector. He also acknowledged what would be transformed: the understanding of modern and contemporary art as a dialogue rather than received wisdom, and the experience of the museum as a place to participate in. These aspirations were always framed in terms of both local and international, “Our first task will be to develop a relationship with a neighbourhood, then with the city of Dublin, with the whole country and with the world community”.[5]

The exhibition “Inheritance and Transformation” comprised a healthy representation of both Irish and International modern and contemporary art including such notables as Carl Andre, Andre Judd, Nancy Spero, Joseph Beuys, Georg Baselitz, Antony Gormley, Hans Haacke and Krzysztof Wodiczko. And it also included important emerging and established Irish artists such as James Coleman, Dorothy Cross, Nigel Rolfe, Eilís O’Connell, John Kindness, Kathy Prendergast and Willie Doherty.

Since the museum opened, IMMA has exhibited and collected the work of numerous Irish and international artists. One of Ireland’s most important artists, Willie Doherty was born, and continues to live, in Derry. Working primarily in photography, film and text, his work explores themes of memory and place, particularly in relation to his native Derry and the troubled history of Northern Ireland; places that have been, and continue to be, historically and politically determined. He explores the relationship between public and private memory and how the past is remembered and mis-remembered. In early works such as Fading Dreams, 1990 and Protecting/Invading, 1987, Doherty used text and image to explore the ambiguity of memory and how language can shape our understanding of the past, where the same landscape is perceived differently depending on which side of the political divide one identifies with.

2. Willie Doherty, Secretion (still) 2012

3. Willie Doherty, Remains (still), 2013; IMMA Collection: Heritage Gift, 2014

Another film work by Doherty, Secretion, shown in IMMA in 2013, was created in the context of documenta 13, in 2012. He had been invited to make a work in response to the place of Kassel, in Germany, and its environs. He employed the metaphor of rivers and tributaries to convey the sense of memory as something that slowly seeps into the soil over time, where it continues to resonate. The work was inspired by a photograph of a dead SS guard by Lee Miller, an American photographer who was embedded with the Allied troops crossing Europe towards the end of World War II. The guard was immersed in a stream in Dachau concentration camp, having been set upon by the prisoners once the camp had been liberated. Doherty was interested in the ambiguity of the image, its ability to convey both horror and serenity:

Obviously, my response cannot be emptied of what I already know or imagine about the German landscape and the traditions of its representation however the intention is not to impose a preconceived reading onto the landscape but to respond to what I might find there. Secretion is about the present rather than the past. The work attempts to engage with the landscape as it looks today but also as a repository of the memories of past experiences and our apprehension about the future.[6]

A recent acquisition to the IMMA Collection, Remains, 2013, is a fictitious film focused on the locations of punishment shootings in Derry. It is based on real events where, as part of a spate of punishment shootings in 2012, in Derry, by a dissident Republican group, a father was ordered to bring his son and another boy to a specified location for a punishment shooting. During the Troubles, such punishments were administered by the IRA to control drug use or anti-social behaviour. They continue to be used by dissident Republicans to exert control and to address petty grievances, a reminder of the tentative hold of the Good Friday Agreement, currently under threat with the Brexit negotiations. Commenting on the work, Doherty stated, “I revisit these same locations in Remains to explore the idea of the generational nature of the conflict, how it passes through families and the vicious circle that people can get caught up in”.[7]

As the Polish poet Czesław Miłosz suggested, “It is possible that there is no other memory than the memory of wounds”, and the memory of wounds and the impossibility of either remembering or forgetting are explored in this art work, which is a response to the manifestations of an unresolved past in the present.[8] Remains is a reflection on the generational and cyclical nature of conflict and its traces in memory and in the landscape. The complexity of the conflict and its traces in contemporary experience are explored through the ambiguity of Doherty’s poetic work, a key art work in IMMA’s Collection.

Another artist whose work addresses the difficult period of the Troubles is lens-based artist Les Levine. Born in 1935, in Dublin, he spent most of his adult life in Canada and America. His diverse practice encompasses a range of media and methodologies including video, photography, installation and conceptual art. He created a body of photographic work titled The Troubles: An Artist’s Document of Ulster in 1972, which documented aspects of life in Northern Ireland during the early stages of the Troubles. Levine said of the series:

The piece is extremely colourful. It deals with every aspect of the situation. It goes into Catholic homes, Protestant homes, churches, funerals, explosions [...] My approach was to take it from the human point of view, not the political. So in all cases, I tried to show the people involved and to evoke some state of mind that they were representing in the photo. I avoided taking sides or showing bias. I think the photos speak for themselves and tell their own extraordinary story.[9]

The Troubles: An Artist’s Document of Ulster was donated to IMMA by the artist and, as part of the museum’s collection, it is an important visual document of the reality of lived experience during the conflict.

4. Mirosław Bałka, 250 x 700 x 455, 41 x 41, Zoo T, 2007; Irish Museum of Modern Art, courtyard; photo by Denis Mortell

In a country mired in the past, it is difficult to separate notions of identity and memory due to their interdependency. Employing the term ‘cosmopolitan memory’, sociologists Daniel Levy and Nathan Sznaider extend Maurice Halbwachs’ concept of collective memory to take account of globalisation, where cosmopolitanism refers to the way in which global concerns become part of local experience.[10] Applied to an Irish context, cosmopolitanism provides a conceptual framework to understand how notions of identity have been shaped iteratively by both local and international influences. Charged with the display of contemporary Irish and international art work, the museum is a forum within which the iterative nature of this dynamic can be explored.

In 2007, IMMA presented an exhibition of art work by the Polish artist Mirosław Bałka, entitled Tristes Tropiques. Like Doherty, Bałka is also concerned with themes of memory and place, in particular his native Poland and its difficult past. Drawing on his own experiences, he deploys the ambiguity of his abstract sculpture to address these themes. The exhibition comprised a large body of sculptural and video works from the previous twenty years, presented in IMMA’s galleries and grounds. IMMA also commissioned a new work 250 x 700 x 455, 41 x 41, Zoo/T, an octagonal metal structure similar to the frame of a tent or a marquee, which was fabricated in a foundary in Dublin. Zoo/T is a scaled model of the ‘zoo’ constructed in Treblinka death camp by the SS commandant Franz Strangl for the recreational entertainment of the camp SS guards. A camp within a camp, the zoo replicated the structure of incarceration of the camp, where foxes captured from the local area and housed in the lower chamber were tormented by birds encased in the dove coup in the upper chamber of the ‘zoo.’ Observing the tension generated between these two captivated creatures constituted the ‘recreational’ entertainment. The original zoo is known only through photographs, as the entire site of Treblinka was destroyed in 1943 following a prisoner uprising and no traces of the camp remain. Here, Bałka presented the trace of the camp – the zoo – rather than the camp itself, rendering it absurd as zoo.

Since the expansion of the EU there is a large Polish community living in Ireland and Bałka gave a bespoke tour of the exhibition in Polish, to engage this new community with the museum. Bałka’s work framed a set of questions relating to historical memory which resonated with the concerns of many artists such as Doherty and Levine, exploring their relationship to ‘difficult pasts’ and challenging assumptions about what it means to be Irish and European, national and international. Such international exhibitions draw attention to the resonances and shared cultural concerns, complicating how notions of memory and identity are understood and expressed.

5. Artist Emily Jacir, Palestinian and Irish students in Belfast, January 2017; photo by Lisa Moran

Similarly, in 2017, IMMA hosted an exhibition of work by Palestinian artist Emily Jacir, entitled Europa, which included sculpture, film, drawings, large-scale installations and photography. Jacir also explores themes relating to memory and place, in particular notions of contested memory and silenced historical narratives. Like Bałka, she was also commissioned to make a site-specific work for IMMA, Notes for a Cannon (2016), which focused on the strong links between Palestine and Ireland, including a shared history of British colonial rule. Notes for a Cannon took as its point of departure IMMA’s Clock Tower and the Clock Tower that once stood at the Jaffa Gate in Jerusalem, which was destroyed by the British in 1922, so that the city aligned with the British notion of what biblical Jerusalem should look like. Jacir installed a sound work in IMMA’s clock tower, so that every day, at a slightly different time, there was the sound of a canon followed by the Muslim call for prayer. Despite the brevity of the call for prayer, the museum received complaints from local residents about the noise.

In the context of Jacir’s exhibition and to further explore the links between Palestine and Ireland, IMMA hosted a collaboration between five students from the Art Academy in Ramallah, in the West Bank, where Emily teaches, and five Irish art students. The students worked with Emily and a number of artists and writers over a two-week period during the run of Emily’s exhibition. This involved several day trips to Belfast and Derry, where the students met Willie Doherty who talked to them about his work and took them on a walking tour of the sites in Derry which feature in his work.

6. Shane Cullen, Fragmens sur les institutions républicaines IV, 1993–1997; Centre d’art contemporain de Vassivière en Limousin; photo by Jacques Hoëpffner

IMMA has a large and growing collection of work by Irish and international artists. Works from the collection are included in numerous exhibitions throughout the year and are also made available on loan to other museums and galleries. Works from the collection both reflect and challenge notions of identity. For example, Fragmens sur les institutions républicaines IV, 1993–1997, by Irish artist Shane Cullen, was made over a period of four years and consists of 96 large Styrofoam panels, each carrying transcriptions of the secret messages smuggled out of the H-Blocks in the Maze Prison in Northern Ireland during the period of the 1981 hunger strike by Republican prisoners. In this work, Cullen rendered the controversial and subversive subject matter in monumental form. The work was acquired by IMMA in 2000 and has been widely shown nationally and internationally. However, when it was included in an exhibition to celebrate the opening of the Luan Gallery, in Athlone, a town in central Ireland, a local county councillor put forward a motion that the work was offensive to members of the public and should be removed:

That this Council in congratulating Athlone Art & Heritage Ltd’s successful opening of the Luan Gallery and noting that art can be provocative and controversial, requests that the exhibit entitled ‘Fragmens Sur Les Institutions Républicaines IV’ be removed as it is offensive to so many people.[11]

Athlone is a major Irish military centre and headquarters of the Western Command of the Irish Army and many in the army would have an antagonistic attitude towards Republicans dissidents (The IRA claimed to be the true Irish army). The motion generated considerable debate and media interest. IMMA issued a statement in support of the art work drawing attention to the role of such work in contributing to the ongoing dialogue about how the past is mediated in the present:

‘Fragmens sur les Institutions Républicaines IV’ is a major artwork by Shane Cullen, one of Ireland’s most respected artists who works with text in a conceptual vein of practice. The work was purchased in 2000 for the national collection of modern and contemporary art at IMMA and has been exhibited widely in Ireland, UK, France and the USA. All artforms whether written, performed or visually expressed, take a discursive direction. That is their point, their raison d’etre. The gallery space provides a forum in which to raise and address subject matter that invokes cultural, social and political issues and that may not easily be expressed elsewhere.[12]

Reverting to McGonagle’s original manifesto is not to suggest that there is a consistent or coherent curatorial intention underpinning all that IMMA has done since it opened in 1991; quite the contrary, there is an arbitrary and contingent quality that continues to underpin much of what we do, as each new Director seeks to put their personal stamp on the Museum’s ethos and activities. In many ways there are significant departures from that manifesto’s intention, but I argue that McGonagle’s intentions, emphasising the importance of the museum in contributing to the shaping and articulation of identity, have ensured that IMMA remains an important site to both explore and contest matters relating to national identity at a local and international level.

During his tenure as director of the museum McGonagle shifted public understanding of the role and function of a museum of modern art, so that it was seen as a place for participation and dialogue and that meaning resides in this exchange. Notions of identity tend to be informed by the past and it is important to ensure that the museum can continue to be a space where the past can be examined and where new narratives can be generated in the present. IMMA has been through many phases since McGonagle left and continues to be assailed by the demands of both public and private sectors but McGonagle’s vision of the Museum as a public and contested space continues to exert its relevance.

Markéta Jonášová

“THE SECOND CENTRE POMPIDOU”.
THE DISPLAY OF MODERN AND CONTEMPORARY ART COLLECTION AT THE NATIONAL GALLERY IN PRAGUE IN THE LIGHT OF THE POST-COMMUNIST TRANSFORMATION OF CZECH NATIONAL IDENTITY

From Patriotism to Nationalism

In 1995, after seventeen years of reconstruction, the renovated Trade Fair Palace was to become the first site to permanently house the modern and contemporary art collection of the Czech National Gallery. Intended to provide a comprehensive overview of the valuable collection for the first time since the early twentieth century, the opening of the new permanent displays in December 1995 was considered a significant event across Europe, such that it received extensive media coverage. Art critics reflected on the struggle of the institution to find a respectable permanent site, and the long missing presentation of twentieth-century art in Czech cultural life. Even though the renovated space of the functionalist palace brought together the vast collection of modern and contemporary art, the inner division of exhibition spaces drew territorial boundaries. The display of French art of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries was located on the second floor of the palace, together with the exhibition of European art of the twentieth century, and the exhibition of Czech art from the 1960s until the present day. The long-awaited exhibition of “Czech Modern Art from 1900 to 1960” was the only permanent display to be located on the third floor of the palace. This exhibition received the greatest attention not only in relation to the spatial layout but also with regards to the curatorial research and press response. In the exhibition catalogue, the curators explained that their decision was to present Czech artists who had significantly contributed to the development of European and world art. Even though the exhibition received numerous reviews, both curators and critics avoided any debate regarding the role of the National Gallery – being, foremost, the presentation of ‘national’ art.[1]

Such function had been explicitly inscribed into the Czech National Gallery by a statute of 1949, which officially sanctified a merge of two previously independent institutions: the Modern Gallery, established in 1901 with the aim to support contemporaneous art, and the Patriotic Society of Arts Picture Gallery, which was founded at the end of the eighteenth century and in 1937 became the State Collection of Old Art.[2] The statute pronounces the gallery to be a state-run institution, with the role of collecting, preserving and displaying both domestic and foreign artworks. This naturally stated, yet problematic distinction between ‘domestic’ and ‘foreign’ was not symptomatic of the new cultural policy of the ruling Communist Party. Instead, it perpetuated an older institutional agenda of the gallery to establish and promote a distinctively Czech artistic tradition.

The roots of the emphasis of the National Gallery on the promotion of the local canon can be found in the efforts of the Patriotic Society of Arts, founded in 1796 with the aim of supporting the flourishing of arts in the Bohemian Kingdom and cultivating the taste of the public.[3] The society members, who considered themselves to be patrons of both art and the homeland, were purchasing artworks that would fulfil the criterion of outstanding significance and could serve as a model for students of the newly established Academy of Arts.[4] The intention to provide people in the Bohemian Kingdom with a gallery that would display the best quality artworks was based on the patriotic motivation to contribute to the development of artistic life in the region, by means of which its international cultural prestige could be elevated. Establishing its gallery at the turn of the nineteenth century, the efforts of the Society of Patriotic Arts stood at the very beginning of the nation-building process in the Bohemian Kingdom and had not yet been enforcing the idea of on an ethnically distinguishable culture.

Analysing the formation of European nations from an ethno-historical perspective, Miroslav Hroch considers enlightened patriotism to be an obvious historical legacy of which the European processes of nation building could make use. In the Enlightenment theory, patriots were considered responsible for the flourishing of their homeland and well-being of its inhabitants. The notion of ‘homeland’, however, did not necessarily correspond with the geographical boundaries of a state territory or was not dependent on a place of origin, as patriots were free to choose the land they should devote their efforts to.[5] In the process of formation of modern nations over the course of the nineteenth century, the idea of an emotional obligation towards the homeland played an increasingly significant role. Anthony D. Smith perceives ‘territorialisation’, defined as “residence in, and the growth of memories and attachments to an historic homeland, and the identification of the members with its landscapes”,[6] to be a foundational tendency shaping the construction of modern nations. The prolific establishment of national galleries across European countries in the nineteenth century mirrors the need of modern nations to define territories, together with the tendency to self-definition and dissemination of distinctive public culture, memories, and customs.[7]

In the extensive literature concerning the origins, definitions, and implications of nations, a difference is often drawn between the civic-territorial and ethnic-genealogical model of a nation.[8] The debate regarding the problematic distinction between civic-territorial and ethnic model of a nation becomes clearer when understood in terms of the difference between patriotism and nationalism. Even though historically the concepts have been commonly interchanged, Maurizio Viroli argues that for belonging to a political community based on patriotic values, the love of the ‘homeland’ and political institutions is crucial, whereas citizenship anchored in nationalism locates the source of identity within a unity of people which are the central object of devotion and loyalty.[9] Hence, the shift from the support of the art in the Bohemian Kingdom by the Society of Patriotic Arts to the promotion of Czech art at the Modern and later National Gallery can be perceived as symptomatic of the shift from patriotism to nationalism over the course of the nineteenth century. One of the foundational events that reinforced the transformation of the gallery from a patriotic to nationalist institution was the establishment of art history as a scientific discipline over the course of the nineteenth century.

Institutionalising Czech art history

The establishment of art history in the nineteenth century Europe was institutionally linked to the professionalisation of public art museums, and ideologically to the struggle for national self-definition. The presumption of a national artistic school derived from the classical artistic canon became the categorising scheme for art historical scholars at an early stage in the history of the discipline. With the increasing influence of national movements, it was considered axiomatic by art historians that the history of art had an essential role in establishing national identities and that the promotion of such identities was the duty of scholarly work. Depending on the regional political situation, such assertions emerged either in opposition to the existing political structure or in compliance with the interests of the state.[10]The scholarly grounding of Czech art history can be found in the tradition of the Vienna School of Art History, the prevalent methodological approach of Czech, Slovak, Hungarian, and Austrian art historians in the first half of the twentieth century.[11] From the 1920s onwards, Czech art historical scholars were mainly elaborating on the idea of a nationally unique art historical development, traceable through a close formal analysis. This approach remained an influential approach of Czech art historians for several decades.[12]

The efforts of nationalist art historians to construct a Czech history of modern art independent of the German tradition is manifested in the history of the Modern Gallery established in Prague in 1901. Even though the emperor stated in the deed of the foundation that the gallery was intended for the successful development of modern art of both nations living in the Kingdom of Bohemia, the division of the institution into two independently funded sections enabled them to pursue different agendas. After the establishment of an independent Czechoslovak state in 1918, the funds of the Czech section were significantly increased at the expense of the German part. The curatorial and political representatives elevated the national interests above the initial agenda of the gallery, predominantly acquiring works of nineteenth-century Czech artists in order to build a retrospective collection that would represent and legitimise the national cultural identity. Even though art critics of both language groups disputed the aim of the gallery to create an institution of ‘national’ art, the interests of the newly sovereign nation were elevated over the international ideals of modern art.[13]

Not long after the establishment of Czechoslovakia in 1918, the position of art historian was added to the acquisition committee of the Modern Gallery, with Karel B. Mádl and Antonín Matějček joining the Czech section.[14] Matějček was among the most influential Czech art historians in the 1920s and 1930s, a professor of art history at the Charles University, and an assistant of Max Dvořák for one year.[15] Published in 1924, Matějček’s Modern and Contemporary Czech Art identifies the beginning of the recent history of Czech painting with the foundation of the Society of Patriotic Friends of Arts. To create a chronological narrative of ‘Czech’ art, Matějček praises the lives and works of male artists of a Czech descent. Their significance is mostly evaluated against their engagement with national cultural life and the present-day Western canon, national traditions, and a ‘beauty of form’.[16] The reasoning underlying Matějček’s art historical narrative very much corresponds with the ‘sacred foundations’ of national identity, as discerned by Anthony D. Smith: he perpetuates the myth of ancestry in the lineage of artists and the belief in the separate destiny of Czech art, embraces the collective attachment to the ancestral homeland, and celebrates not only the work of the artists but also the lives of the ‘glorious dead’.[17]

For Smith, as well as for Jürgen Habermas, the process of nation formation necessarily entails not only positive defining acts (‘this is us’) but also negative differentiation with respect to ‘alien’ and ‘foreign’ cultures. When discussing the formation of European nation-states, Habermas perceives the negative differentiation to be the reason why “self-understanding as a nation often wards off all things that are foreign, debates other nations and discriminates or excludes national, ethnic, and religious communities”.[18] Given the power discrepancies within the Austrian Empire, the most common other to be differentiated from becomes, for Czech nationalists, German cultural tradition. In Matějček’s account, German and Austrian influence is perceived as non-authentic and invasive: protecting Czech art from any form of German cultural influence means saving it from its arch-enemy.[19] The exhibiting policy of the Modern Gallery was aligned with Matějček’s nationalist intentions. Czech art was either presented separately from German art in order for the autonomous development to be illustrated, or, in the case of the contemporary artists, together with the French art of the twentieth century.[20] The ideologically established ethnic boundaries pervaded the agenda of the Modern and later National Gallery, institutionalising exclusions in a cultural consciousness. Even though people of both Czech and German origin were rightful citizens of Czechoslovakia, the state agenda deliberately supported an exclusively Czech narrative related to its territory. This led to an increasing tension between the idea of citizenship as a legal status determining the formal basis for the rights and responsibilities in relation to the state, and the ethnically distinguished sense of belonging to a community of the nation.

Gallery for the Czech people

A fleeting glance at the history of exhibitions held at the National Gallery during the Soviet era reveals a continuing focus on the presentation of Czech (and rarely Czechoslovak) art, in compliance with the foundational statute from 1949. According to the list of exhibitions organised at the National Gallery from 1945 to 1985, there was the exhibition of “Czech art of the nineteenth century” and “Czech Masters of the nineteenth century” in 1950; “Masters of Czech drawing and Czech landscape of the nineteenth century” in 1951; “Czech art of the nineteenth century” in 1952; “Czech Masters of the nineteenth century” in 1953; “Czech art of the nineteenth century” in 1954; “Czech painting of the nineteenth century” in 1955; “Founding figures of Czech modern art” in 1958; “Czechoslovak modern art since 1945” in 1962; “Modern Czech drawing” in 1965; “Czech modern art from the collection of Emanuel Hloupý” in 1966; “My homeland: Czech painting of the nineteenth century”, “Czech art of the early twentieth century”, and “Czech sculpture of the nineteenth and twentieth century” in 1968, “Czech cubism” in 1969, “Czech painting of the nineteenth century” and “Art and the present era: Czech art of the 1920s (A celebration of the 50th anniversary since the establishment of the Communist Party)” in 1971, “Czech art of the nineteenth century” in 1972, “Czech social graphic arts” in 1974, “National artists of the Czechoslovak Republic” in 1976, “A selection of Czech graphic arts and sculpture 1921–1976 (A celebration of the 55th anniversary since the establishment of the Communist Party)” in 1976, “Tradition and contemporaneity of Czech art” in 1979, “The Times of Battles and Victories. Czech art from 1938 to 1945 (A celebration of the 60th anniversary since the establishment of the Communist Party)” and “Testimony of history: Czechoslovak visual arts 1921–1981” in 1981, and “Czech painting of the twentieth century” in 1984 and 1985.[21]

There is no doubt that the selections of artists as well as interpretation strategies were changing with respect to the politically desirable character of ‘Czech’ art. Officially, the programme of the gallery had to be in compliance with the principles of Marxism-Leninism, with a much greater dogmatism after the suppression of the Prague Spring in 1968.[22] This, however, did not imply an absolute adoption of Socialist realism as the exclusive principle of acquisition and exhibition policies. Rather, there was a greater emphasis on the communicative potential of figurative style and contemporaneous art reflecting particular social subjects in compliance with the soviet cultural policy. The increased number of exhibitions of Yugoslav, Armenian, Georgian, Romanian, Kazakh, Bulgarian, Polish, Hungarian, and Russian art in the 1970s suggest that as a result of the stiffened Soviet influence, the gallery had to give priority to a collaboration with countries of the Eastern bloc. The official exhibition agenda was not suppressing the history of modernist movements but rather the present-day artistic strategies drawing on the Western avant-garde legacy.[23]

The Return of Western Modernism

The democratic revolutions of 1989 and 1990 were realised both in the name of national liberation and emancipation from Soviet oppression, throwing the communist legacy into historical oblivion.[24] The first demonstrations against the communist regime in Prague in 1988 and 1989 were indeed anchored in a strong national sentiment. Participants were carrying Czech flags, singing the national anthem, and chanting the name of Masaryk – the first Czechoslovak president – and Dubček – whose leadership symbolises a period of liberalisation leading to the Prague Spring in 1968. According to Ladislav Holy, nationalism did not merely replace the communist ideology: it was the basis for the opposition to communism, which culminated in its overthrow. The first demonstrations were carried out in the name of the freedom of individuals and the nation because the state was perceived as alienated, serving the Soviet interests. In the years to follow the Velvet Revolution, the sense of ‘liberation’ from the Soviet oppression was reinforced. The public discourse became shaped by nationalist myths of the pre-war republic, the re-establishment of organisations that were banned by the Communist Party, an open acknowledgement of national symbols and questioning the Communist Party’s own symbols and myths. Together with ‘undoing’ the wrongs of the socialist period, the aim of the newly formed government was to return the Czech Republic back to Europe – to become part of the West again.[25]

At the opening of the Trade Fair Palace in 1995, the influence of Western culture was reinvoked both in terms of the curatorial conception of the new exhibitions, including the retrospective of cubist sculptor Otto Gutfreund, and within the exhibition space itself. The history of the newly renovated building was stressed at a temporary exhibition “Like Phoenix, the Past and Present the of Fair Trade Palace”.[26] In their response to the re-opening of the palace, art critics mostly reflected on the inadequate and unsuitable environment of the building for the display of contemporary art, complaining about bad lighting, low ceilings, and a hostile functionalist environment. Nonetheless, with respect to the architecture itself, the building was praised – described as a “functionalist gem”, “a generous space admired already by Le Corbusier”, or “a mythical Phoenix risen from the ashes”.[27] In the eyes of the public, the Trade Fair Palace had become a symbol of both a culturally and economically thriving period of the first Czechoslovak Republic – a period that could be, after the demise of communism, publicly praised again.

Being one of the early examples of functionalist architecture, the rigorous reconstruction of the palace maintained its original character designed for the display of goods. Transformed into an exhibition space, the circular floor plan reinforced a linear curatorial narrative, as it left very little space for possible turn-offs and interconnection of rooms. According to some reviews of the exhibition, the implementation of the art historical narrative was not as clear as it is described in the curatorial conception and the catalogue. Visitors found it difficult to follow the sections in a confusing installation consisting of large panels and small booths, with scarce information provided.[28] In their response to such accusations, the curators claim the problematic installation to be a result of an insufficient air-conditioning system and other technical problems, which determined the final positioning of artworks.[29] Nonetheless, the renovated space of the Trade Fair Palace maintained its purist, functionalist character, which embraces the modernist narrative by emphasising formal affiliations of artworks.

Czech Modern Art 1900–1960

The curatorial conception of the most-anticipated display “Czech Modern Art 1900–1960” was structured into sixteen chronologically subsequent sections, with each section representing a significant modernist movement or stylistic tendency. It began with a period of “Symbolism in Painting and Sculpture” at the turn of the nineteenth century, represented by a group artists adhering to the non-traditional means of artistic expression. The work of sculptors such as František Bílek, Ladislav Šaloun, and Jan Štursa, and painters František Kupka, Jan Zrzavý, and Antonín Slavíček, demonstrated according to the curators the tendency of artists to experiment with form in order to express mythological, religious, and spiritual motives, as well as to explore poetic and symbolic potential of landscape painting. In the catalogue, the influence of Auguste Rodin, Edvard Munch, and Paul Gauguin on the art of this generation is emphasised. The melancholic landscapes and introspective portraits of Jan Zrzavý were also included in the following section titled “Expression”, together with the painting of artists Josef Váchal, Emil Filla, Václav Špála, and Bohumil Špála. The work of these artists from the first decade of the twentieth century was interpreted as influenced by expressionism and fauvism, in particular by the work of Edvard Munch, Vincent van Gogh, Paul Gauguin, and Honoré Daumier, and by Dostoevsky, Nietzsche, Hermeticism, and Eastern philosophy.[30]

1. An example of Bohumil Kubišta’s style characterised as Cubo-Expressionism: St Sebastian, 1912, oil on canvas, 98 x 74.5 cm; National Gallery, Prague; source: sbirky.cz

2. Emil Filla’s response to expressionism, Reader of Dostoyevsky, 1907, oil on canvas, 98.5 x 80 cm’ National Gallery, Prague; source: sbirky.ngprague.cz.

The third chapter “František Kupka: From the Figure to Abstraction” was solely devoted to the work of František Kupka and the development of his artistic approach from expressive representative painting to abstraction in the period from 1905 to 1913. The art historians highlight his profound effect on “the whole art of the world”, which was eventually reasserted by his retrospective held in Paris in 1989. Apart from Kupka’s work, the second decade of the twentieth century was introduced by a section devoted to “Cubism”. The perceived persisting influence of expressionism in the work of several artists is by the art historians addressed as specifically Czech artistic phenomena of ‘cubo-expressionism’. In the catalogue, not only the influence of Pablo Picasso and Juan Chris on the art of this generation is accentuated but also the significance of the “Modern Art Exhibition” organised in Prague in 1914, in which Kubišta, Špála, and Čapek exhibited together with artists such as Constantin Brancusi, Marcel Duchamp, and Jean Metzinger. The cubist sculpture of Otto Gutfreund, who studied in Paris with Emile Antoine Bourdelle, was included in another separate section – if Kupka was presented as the most significant Czech painter, Gutfreund occupied the same prominent position among sculptors. The part of the exhibition revolving around cubistic tendencies culminated with chapter loosely titled “Cubist Alternatives”.[31]

As a pioneer of abstract painting, Kupka was included in another section titled “Cosmic Architecture and the Pure Form”, which discussed his ideas of the “world as a theatre of nature, as a continual chemical and energic change and movement, whose denominator or activator is life”.[32] Kupka’s abstract paintings were once again included in the tenth section of the exhibition devoted to “Abstraction” in the 1930s, together with the paintings of František Foltýn and Vojtěch Preissig, and sculptor Zdeněk Dvořák. In opposition to the sections concerned with cubistic tendencies, the turn towards realism in the 1920s was captured in an extensive chapter, which presented together the so-called movements of “Primitivism, Civilism, and Spiritual Realism”.

3. An example of Civilism in sculpture: Otakar Švec, Sunbeam-Motorcyclist, 1924, bronze, 114 x 226 cm; National Gallery, Prague; source: sbirky.ngprague.cz

4. Zdeněk Pešánek’s fountain design for the World Exhibition in Paris in 1937, Female and Male Torso, 1936, plastic and other materials, 140 cm; National Gallery, Prague; source: sbirky.ngprague.cz

According to the curators, the stylistic tendency of artists to capture contemporaneous life was partially a response to the events of the First World War. The shift of Otto Gutfreund’s work from cubism to Civilism, characterised as a style in Bohemia parallel of German Neue Sachlikeit, was interpreted both in stylistic terms and as a consequence of the artists’ interest in capturing personal and working lives of men and women. The notion of Primitivism was referring to artists such as Antonín Procházka and Josef Čapek, whose work “drew from the art of so-called ‘primitive’ nations” and “incorporated a celebration of folk artists”, such as sculptures of Josef Jiříkovský and Alois Wachsman.[33]

The lyrical abstractions of Josef Šíma, Toyen, and Jindřich Štýrský, all of whom lived and worked in Paris, were subsumed under a section titled “Visual poetry”, together with sculptures of Josef Wagner, Vincenc Makovský, Hana Wichterlová, and Zdeněk Pešánek. The Czech iterations of surrealism then constituted the subject of the following chapters: “Surrealism as a Programme” and “On the Brink of Surrealism”. The first chapter concentrated solely on the work of Jindřich Štýrský, Toyen, and Vincent Makovský, who were the only visual artists among the founding members of the Prague Surrealist Group, which maintained close contacts with André Breton’s movement in Paris. The influence of surrealism was also traced in the artistic approach of several artists working in the 1930s, some of whom founded in 1942 the Group 42, bound by artists’ similar reflections on the life in a modern city, presented in a chapter titled “The Mythology of the Mundane”.

The socially and politically radical events following the Munich Agreement in 1938 and escalating in the Second World War only entered the narrative in the last three chapters, beginning with the section titled “Reflection of Solitude”, which presented the work of ‘existential’ painters Alén Diviš, Václav Hejna, Václav Boštík, and Zdeněk Sklenář. The main focus of the last two chapters titled the “Transformation of Surrealism” and “The Renaissance of Modernism” was the turbulent post-war era. Whereas the intention of the first one was to demonstrate the prevalent legacy of surrealism, the second section mostly focused on artists, whose work could be likened to French artistic movements of Tachisme and Informalism, and which were inspired by expressionism, cubism, and abstract art. In this last chapter, the curatorial selection ostentatiously avoided inclusion of artists, whose work could be perceived as in compliance with the principles of Socialist Realism. On the contrary, it presented mostly abstract works created by Václav Boštík, Jan Kotík, Mikuláš Medek, Karel Malich, and others.[34]

The exhibition narrative sheds a different perspective on the proclaimed aim of the curators to focus on both artists who have contributed to the ‘world art history’ and who were considered outsiders. In their interpretation, the notion of ‘European’ and ‘world’ art history implies almost exclusively Western European modernism, as articulated predominantly by artists working and exhibiting in Paris at the beginning of the twentieth century. The extent to which Czech artists contributed to this development is measured against their engagement with the ‘most progressive’ Western stylistic tendencies, which necessarily prioritises artists who travelled abroad or lived in the cosmopolitan capital. Consequently, the work of František Kupka and Otto Gutfreund receives the greatest attention, as Kupka is considered to be among the pioneers of abstract painting, and Gutfreund of cubist sculpture. The perpetuation of this grandiose national narrative, which evolves according to stylistic influences and affiliations, was also possible due to the prevailing methodological legacy of the Vienna School of Art History.[35]Interestingly, when analysing the narrative of the exhibition devoted to the history of Slovak Art in the twentieth Century, which opened in the Slovak National Gallery in 2000, museologist Mária Orišková observes similar paradigms: national and regional uniqueness combined with modernist formalism and neo-modernism.[36]

Forgetting the East

The tendency to re-establish the legacy of the first Czechoslovak Republic and suppress the cultural history of the Soviet period pervaded the opening of both the permanent displays of the national collection and the functionalist exhibition space. The modernist narrative omitted debates on the influence of the ideological shift and avoided any reflections on the impact of the official Soviet cultural policy. Rather than the modernist narrative itself, the absence of well-known realistic painters was questioned in several reviews of the exhibition. In their response to such criticism, the curators justified their decision to focus solely on the “modernist and avant-garde tendencies” in Czech art by their alleged exclusion from public presentation during the Soviet era. According to the curators, the suppression of these tendencies brought about a condemnation of non-traditional artistic strategies by the general public.[37]

The second part of the exhibition, titled “Czech Art from 1960 to Present”, perpetuated the tendency to elevate artists whose work was not officially supported by the communist regime. As Mária Orišková observes, the problematic aspect of such a tendency is not the aim of promoting artists, who adhere to non-traditional means of artistic expression, but the establishment of a polarity between ‘low, official, academic’ art and ‘high, autonomous, authentic’,[38] when the first implies affiliation with Socialism and the latter with Western modernism. The elevation of ‘neo-avant-garde’ artists and the absence of artists working either in compliance with the demands of the Communist Party or with more traditional artistic means created a black-and-white narrative, in which the celebrated memory of ‘underground’ art was positioned against a forgettable ‘official’ art. The elevation of František Kupka’s work manifests this hegemonic influence of the modernist canon. It is both the nature of his abstract paintings – ‘pure’ manifestation of artistic autonomy – and the fact that he was working in Paris in the beginning of the twentieth century, which grant him the prominent position. It enables the curators to manifest that Czech art took part in the Western development of modern art, as canonised by the formalist theory. Why such an ostentatious manifestation?

Despite its hegemonic influence, formalist modernism and the notion of artistic autonomy has served as the representation of the democratic character of Western culture. To become part of the universalist, modernist culture of the liberal West, post-Soviet countries have had to reject their communist past and undergo an accelerated process of modernisation – in Boris Buden’s words, they have had to catch up with the culture of their Western counterpart. The varying political and social experience is translated into a problem of cultural difference, when the culture of post-communist countries is perceived as belated and alienated.[39] The political role of art in communist society is repudiated together with the memory of the society being a product of social antagonisms, leaving a historical gap that has to be bridged through the re-establishment of modernist culture. Hence, the emphasis on a canon anchored in Western modernism is not merely a response to the ‘ideological’ character of art favoured during the Soviet era. Embedded in the economic logic of ‘catching-up’ with the more developed Western countries under the capitalist logic of competition, the cultural affiliation had to be manifested in terms of the Western modernist culture. The label of the ‘second Centre Pompidou’, attributed to the Trade Fair Palace by art critics in the 1990s, manifests this cultural situatedness in a bitter irony. If ethnically ‘Czech’ is the first category underlying the institutional organisation of the modern and contemporary art collection of the Czech National Gallery, the preferred national canon mirrored the new cultural identity of the 1990s, negating its Eastern alliances and ties to Soviet cultural policies by an endorsement of the modernist and avant-garde artistic tradition. The opening of the new permanent display of the modern and contemporary art collection at the Trade Fair Palace was embedded in the problematic identity of the ‘liberated’ nation, which only entered a new sphere of hegemonic influence, represented by the economically, politically, and culturally ‘more developed’ Western countries.

Locating the Common Ground

The history of the display of the collection, reflected in the institutional organisation of the gallery, reveals a striking perpetuation of the idea of the Czech nation as an organic entity, solely omnipresent within the territory of the state. Distinguishing the idealist notion of Czech art, mostly based on vague criteria that constitute the national, perpetuates a discriminatory category, which identifies what is ethnically Czech with the cultural history of the region. However, if the ‘national’ is approached, in compliance with recent scholarship, not as an organic everlasting entity but as a historically conditioned category, it allows for a critical reading of history that exposes the role of visual arts in the construction of national identity, and the influence of nationalism on visual arts. Addressing the issue of the constitution of national identity in the present-day society by a critical interpretation of the collection opens the public space of the gallery to a much-needed debate.

Nonetheless, it is necessary to ask what the role of the national gallery might be if not the promotion of ‘national’ culture. In terms of the distinction between patriotism and nationalism, Maurizio Viroli stresses the need to invoke the idea of patriotism without nationalism:

If we are patriots in this sense, we have to fight against anyone who attempts to impose a particular interest over the common good; we have to oppose discrimination and exclusion, but we have no obligation to impose cultural, or ethnic, or religious homogeneity, nor to foster self-aggrandizement at the expense of other people’s liberty, nor to deny civil and political rights to any of our fellow patriots.[40]

If the state, represented by its institutions, remains the main organising unit in a society, then the National Gallery as an institution funded by public resources should act on behalf of its population. What could be the common ground for a collective activity and interests of not only legal citizens of the state, as such a category is in the era of accelerated migration and multiple nationalities disputable, but also for individuals residing in the area? One of the possible approaches is to conceptualise the geography of the state as a living, fluid experience, rather than as a fixed territory demarcated by its boundaries. The communities that reside within territories of European nation states have always been in flux. Hence, the common sense of belonging to a certain community or territory can be hardly located in the idea of a shared cultural origin. The sense of belonging can rather be comprehended through a common experience, which creates and reflects ideas surrounding a particular place. In addition, it can be seen as a way of remembering, instrumental in the construction of collective memory. Locality and belonging can be then defined by both actual territorial emplacement and by collective memories to and experiences of particular landscapes. Such a construction of locality is a multivocal and multi-layered process, which mobilises loyalty to different communities simultaneously, and can transcend both local and national boundaries in order to encompass identity.[41]

Manifesto of the Post-communist Patriotic Gallery

1. Expose and question art historical narratives anchored in nationalistic assumptions, which impose cultural, ethnic, and religious hegemony and homogeneity.

2. Think of conceptions that do not deny the historical heritage of nationalism but at the same time do not perpetuate its influence.

3. Present a critical programme, which champions civic virtue with respect to local political, social, and economic conditions.

4. Voice political pressures.

5. Do not avoid contesting narratives. Accommodate multiplicity of perspectives.

6. Stop pretending that an institution located in an economically and politically marginal region of Europe can have the same status as ‘global’ art museums.

7. Refuse the aim of having a global commercial spotlight.

8. Start developing a programme that is not derived from the canon promoted by the (Western) international art scene but relevant for both the history and present concerns of the local culture.

9. Expand the thinking beyond the conventional model of an exhibition. Introduce other formats such as workshops, discussions, multi-genre events.

10. If needed, restructure gallery departments. Think of the architecture and design of exhibition spaces, and its accessibility.

11. Consult the accessibility of the space and relevance of the programme with various professionals and visitor groups.

12. Seek collaboration with institutions that share similar historical and social concerns.

The research was supported by the Ministry of Culture of the Czech Republic.

Maria Anna Potocka

Director of MOCAK the Museum of Contemporary Art in Krakow

THE GENESIS AND STRATEGIES OF THE MOCAK COLLECTION IN RELATION TO THE CITY AND ITS HISTORY

The Museum of Contemporary Art in Krakow, MOCAK, was inaugurated in 2011. It is the first museum of contemporary art in Poland built, and so far the only one completed, entirely since the war. The intention of its founding authority, the City of Krakow, was to complete a specific historical sequence: from the tenth century at Wawel Castle to the twenty-first century in Zabłocie.

MOCAK is an institution boasting an extensive programme inspired by the context of place and history. Because Krakow is the ‘City of Literature’, we are involved not only with the presentation and collection of international contemporary art, but also with the links between literature, poetry and art. Since the museum is located in the renovated and expanded spaces of the former Schindler’s Factory, much of our exhibition and publishing activity relates to the Holocaust and World War II.

MOCAK’s most important task is to share contemporary art with an audience that is not professionally involved in art. It is equally important to create an identity based on local contexts.

The story of MOCAK Collection begins with Maria Anna Potocka transferring to the institution her private collection of some one thousand works by artists from various countries related to body art, performance, conceptualism and Fluxus, as well as works by young Polish artists, including the Ładnie Group. Currently, the Collection comprises some five thousand works, many of which were purchased in the years 2012–2017 within the framework of the ministerial programme “National Collections of Contemporary Art”. At that time, many works, including the entire legacy of Mikołaj Smoczyński, were acquired from artists and their heirs as donations. Our ambition – one that we have pursued more and more effectively – is to build a collection that will reflect all the important issues of the past fifty years.

Because Polish audiences are wary of contemporary art – mainly due to insufficient education and an indifference to museums of contemporary art – we opt for works that combine the power of ideas with a certain visual appeal. We examine the reaction of visitors to the successive sections of the Collection. Our observations indicate that such an approach has been very much appreciated.

Collection strategy

The strategy for building the MOCAK Collection has been inspired by the diversity of artistic production following World War II. We are interested in the most significant artistic styles. We seek out formal solutions and outsider digressions, as well as social, historical, and anthropological commentaries. In that context, we are most interested in works related to the problems of human dignity and freedom – hence the focus on the themes of emigration, feminism, and politics. We are also looking for works related to the last world war and the Holocaust. Within these subject areas, we are particularly interested in works marked by a certain degree of inventiveness and experimentation related to the medium.

In expanding the museum’s collection, we rely on two strategies. When it comes to artists whose work is diverse and who are associated with MOCAK through participation in exhibitions, we try to acquire several distinctive works and thus create a reasonably representative whole. In the case of artists whose work is homogeneous in terms of media and themes, we choose one, most characteristic piece, which in turn we treat as a supplement to a thematic cluster comprising other works within the Collection. Currently, we have several such clusters that allow us to prepare themed exhibitions based on the objects from the Collection.

Existential reflections

For centuries, references to personal experiences and social relations have been the pivot of every outstanding artwork. Contemporary art has granted full independence to such issues. This has in turn enabled existential discussions to emerge in contact with the artwork. This area of contemporary artistic activity is particularly attractive to viewers because it encourages them to compare the point of view of the artist with their own emotions and concerns. Many works – assigned, for example, to the ‘Realist Art’ section of the Collection – convey such comments or reflections.

Realist art

We are looking to add to our Collection artworks inspired by the tradition of Realism, especially works that focus on existential content. Nowadays, art that puts into play the visual relationship with the world has great potential – by using single images, often devoid of context, it can convey metaphorical, critical, tragic, or ironic messages. This kind of art is extremely attractive to Polish viewers because it promotes their beliefs about art while simultaneously taking on board contemporary problems and meanings. In the near future, we expect to present an exhibition on various realist strategies based on works from the Collection.

From conceptual art to postmodernism

The Collection includes numerous works by conceptual artists. We consider this movement as seminal for a contemporary understanding of art; hence we seek out artworks that combine a juxtaposition of conceptual reflection with postmodern visual and symbolic freedom. Within this framework, engaged artistic attitudes are of particular interest. This is because many artists today – often influenced by the avant-garde legacy – feel obliged to manifest critical attitudes towards socio-political problems. We consider it the duty of large public institutions to give representation to this kind of outlook. Conceptual art introduces intellectual order, postmodernism – visual attractiveness, and critical engagement asserts social responsibility.

World War II and the Holocaust

An important part of the museum’s programme is to warn against the horrors of the Holocaust ever happening again. We address this topic via exhibitions and publications, but also through the acquisition of artworks for the museum’s Collection. We already own pieces by Mirosław Bałka, Sigalit Landau, Artur Żmijewski, Lukáš Houdek, Michel Kichka, and others. Recently, we have succeeded in purchasing – outside the ministerial programme, in an auction – a full set of Jonasz Stern’s lithographs depicting the tragedy of the Lvov Ghetto. For a number of reasons, we intend to develop further this part of the Collection. A public visiting the museum located in the Schindler Factory expects a contemporary commentary on the subject of the Holocaust. Additionally, we collaborate with foreign museums and institutions that deal with this subject, also through exchanging works and exhibitions.

Art, literature, theatre

Another thread in relation to the MOCAK Collection is the concept of combining arts. Our programme includes a series of exhibitions devoted to poets who practise visual arts. So far, we have exhibited works by Wisława Szymborska, Zbigniew Herbert, Joachim Ringelnatz, and Herta Müller. The MOCAK Collection already includes several dozen of Szymborska’s collages (from private donations), and next year we are planning to acquire collages by Müller. We are proud to have in our Collection the Krystian Lupa theatrical installation from Factory 2 – an interactive combination of stage design and documentation of rehearsals and meetings with the participants of Andy Warhol’s Silver Factory.

The Krakow Group

We do not neglect the artistic tradition of the II Krakow Group, whose legacy is crucial for the history of Krakow’s art. Józef Chrobak has bequeathed to the museum his rich archive of the Group and we intend to collect other works representative of the members of the Group. At present, the Collection includes works by Jerzy Kałucki, Tadeusz Kantor, Janina Kraupe-Świderska, Jadwiga Maziarska, Marian Warzecha, Jonasz Stern, Janusz Tarabuła, and Danuta Urbanowicz. These are artists who employ traditional avant-garde methods in relation to contemporary problems and whose relationships to one another constitute an important theoretical message, and who can thus be seen as the avant-garde of postmodernism. The Group’s ethos, rather than bringing together artists who think in similar ways, was to bring together individuals interested in one another’s ideological and artistic media discoveries.

New art

The work of young artists is covered extensively in the MOCAK programme. We run the Re Gallery, which presents works by students and young graduates of art schools from all over the world. We have also shown the work of the youngest generations in exhibitions of Krakow-based artists (the series Artists from Krakow). These presentations – preceded by a broad overview of the artistic community – allow us to discover new, promising talent. We try to include pieces by some of these artists in our Collection.

Creative design

Artists often turn to the concept of employing everyday objects. This trend has become a standard practice in contemporary art. In our Collection, there are several works that exploit the symbolic meaning of items such as a carpet, jug, clothing, tableware, and other ordinary utilitarian objects. We have set out to expand this section, because such a media strategy produces strong and convincing messages to which audiences are very receptive.

Jindřich Ondruš

Wallachian Open-Air Museum in Rožnov pod Radhoštěm

WALLACHIAN OPEN-AIR MUSEUM AND LOCAL DEVELOPMENT.
ECONOMIC IMPACTS OF WALLACHIAN OPEN-AIR MUSEUM AT ROŽNOV POD RADHOŠTĚM

While creating its medium-term strategy for its everyday work, the Wallachian Open Air Museum strives to become an important pillar of progress in the field of cultural heritage and sustainable development. Hence, it systematically works on optimal adjustment of collaboration with important stakeholders. It also engages in measuring the impact of its work on local development. The museum seeks to stimulate economic processes, particularly in relation to the development of tourism and support of cultural diversity and strengthening local and regional identity.

In my presentation, I am going to focus on the positive impacts which WOAM has on public budgets. First, let me present some information about our museum: It was founded in 1925, and is the largest open-air museum in the Czech Republic. It is a state-funded organisation, run by the Ministry of Culture of the Czech Republic. The Museum has a status of a National Cultural Monument.

At present, there are more than one hundred structures built over an area of 80 hectares. The museum is divided into four separate parts:

1. The Little Wooden Town (opened) (1925);

2. The Wallachian Village (1972);

3. The Water Mill Valley (1982);

4. Pustevny (opened in 1898, reconstructed in 1995).

There is also a national methodological centre for other open air museums located here.

Here we have some of the starting points for calculating the economic impact of the museum.

Firstly, we need to consider our stakeholders – strategic of influential partners. The most important ones are the state, especially the Ministry of Culture, the regional government and local government. Region and the City.

Last year, we worked on a new mid-term strategy, in cooperation with the University of T. Bata in Zlín. Of course, the strategy focuses on main functions of the Museum: education, research and collections, keeping of historical memory and creation of visitors’ experiences. But we know that these are very difficult to measure. So in our strategy, we also included a chapter about economic impacts.

For this purpose, a study was conducted in 2018 by Tereza Raabová, Economic Impact Art s.r.o., titled “Economic Impacts of the Wallachian Open Air Museum at Rožnov pod Radhoštěm and Its Visitors”. Before we look at the results, let me shortly explain the methodology.

The economic impacts were calculated by input-output analysis, based on the national statistics. This methodology is widely used in the world. It was invented by Wassily Leontief, who was awarded a Nobel Prize for it. After some arrangements, the methodology was certified also by the Czech Ministry of Culture, and it has been tested in many Czech cultural projects.

1. Direct and indirect multiplier economic effect of visitor’s expenditures

The method quantifies what happens to Czech economy as a whole if one Czech crown is spend by visitors for services (for example, cultural services, hotels, restaurants, etc.)

By this method, the multiplier or indirect effect, which means activity of the entire supply chain, can be also quantified.

There are two types of economic impacts:

1. Impacts of the museum’s budget and museum’s suppliers

2. Impacts of the visitors’ spending in restaurants, hotels, shops, etc.

Let us start with the economic impacts of the museum’s budget and activity.

The Museum has a budget of almost 98 million Czech crowns (CZK, ca 3,8 million EUR), out of it almost 60 million CZK comes from the state contribution and grants. The museum pays 33% of its budget (32 million CZK) to other suppliers.

The second circle shows the total impact of the museum’s spending, including direct and indirect effect (on the supplier chain): increase in total turnover by 155 million CZK (about 6 million EUR), and gross value added (gross domestic product) of 91 million CZK (about 3.5 million EUR) which includes profits and wages. And it helps to create 138 jobs. The total annual revenues to the public budgets are 35 million CZK.

As we can see, the economic impacts of the museum’s budget and activity on the public budget is negative, as the latter produces more than it receives, the deficit is 24.7 million CZK (1 million EUR).

But to know the overall impact of the museum, we have to quantify also the economic impacts of museum’s visitors and their spending, because the museum is one of the most important attractions in the region.

Average visitor spending thanks to WOAM

Visitors’ expenses were partly obtained from the data available to the museum, from surveys and other sources and partly they were estimated. Of course, the amount of money spent per a foreign visitor is higher than that spent by a native one, as foreigners have much higher expenses on transportation, accommodation, meals, etc. Expenditures of foreigners on air tickets, as well as expenses incurred after traveling outside the Czech Republic, are not included as they do not normally represent income for the Czech economy. Thus, foreign payments that are calculated are only payments in the Czech Republic and to Czech entities (e.g. tickets and museums).

The input data table shows that the average relevant visitor’s spending ranges between CZK 133 to 715 per person, while the distance of visitor’s residence increases the amount, as we also need to include part of the expenses for accommodation and transportation to Rožnov pod Radhoštěm. Furthermore, we see that admission to WOAM is only a small part of the total expenses that visitors spend while visiting the museum (a total of 11 per cent of the expenditure).

2. The economic impact of WOAM ’s budget and activity

Most of the money was spent on refreshment (stalls, restaurants, cafes). As the distance of residence increases, the length of the journey and stay increases, which leads to higher expenditure on accommodation and transportation. (For these expenses, only a proportion of the visitor’s expenses was included half-day stay and half the price of a bed for one night because the surveys of WOAM show that on average visitors spend about 3 hours in the museum which means that, including journey and one meal, a trip to the museum takes about half a day.)

Average visitor spending

Where our visitors come from

Total expenditure in MM CZK

Local

From around 20-50km

From other areas of the Czech Rep.

Foreign

Tickets WOAM

33

50

65

70

19.6

Food, restaurants

80

145

160

190

48.6

Souvenirs, goods

20

40

70

85

19.3

Public transportation

0

40

50

60

14.8

Fuel

0

30

90

90

23.5

Parking

0

10

10

10

3.0

Accommodation

0

15

140

180

36.5

Others

0

15

20

30

6.1

Overall Average visitor spending

133 CZK

345 CZK

605 CZK

715 CZK

Overall visitor spending million CZK

0.4

19.8

118.8

32.4

171.3

Table 1. Average visitor’s spending owing to a visit to WOAM

3. Economic impact of visitors to WOAM

The Museum attracts more than 300,000 visitors every year. This diagram shows where our visitors come from:

– 20 per cent come from the city of Rožnov and its surrounding areas up to 50 km;

– 65 per cent are from other regions of the Czech Republic;

– 15 per cent are from abroad, mostly from Slovakia.

As mentioned above, local visitors spend much less money than foreigners who need to pay for accommodation, transportation, food, etc. All visitors spend 171 million Czech crowns thanks to the museum (ca 6,6 million Euro).

Out of this sum, only 11 per cent is spent for museum tickets and 89 per cent goes to restaurants, hotels, souvenirs, transportation, etc.

The third circle shows the total impact of the visitor spending, including direct and indirect effect: increase in total turnover by 260 million CZK (ca 10 million EUR), 31 million CZK was value added tax for the state budget, while 97 million CZK was gross value added. The gross value added includes profits and wages. And it helps create 174 jobs. Total taxes and revenues to public budget equal 56.6 million CZK (2.2 million EUR).

Total economic impacts of the museum and its visitors

Now, let us combine the two diagrams together and sum up total economic impacts of the museum.

The total impact of the museum visitors’ spending, including direct and indirect effect is: the increase in the total turnover of Czech economy by 383 million CZK (about 14.8 million EUR), the museum creates or helps create 283 jobs and public budgets revenues are 86 million CZK (3.3 million EUR).

4. Public budgets revenues vs. expenses

To conclude, we have to look at the final impact on public budgets. Nearly 60 million CZK (2.3 million EUR) were invested in the museum from the public budget. But the total public budget revenues coming from museum visitors and suppliers amounts to 86 million CZK (3.3 million EUR).

It means that each Czech crown invested into the museum generates 1.4 CZK income for the public budget.

Silvia Colombo

“SPONTANEOUS MUSEUMS” IN NORTHERN SWEDEN:
CULTURAL NARRATIVES WITHIN NORRBOTTEN

1. ‘Spontaneous Museums’: the process behind a definition

1.1. About ‘spontaneity’

Since I started working on this project, observing and looking closer at the current museum situation in Norrbotten,[1] I felt the urge to find a definition, a word that could fit in this context. It was only after long discussions, a rather slow thinking path, a continuous research through sources of inspiration and studies that I finally have come to a conclusion. This paragraph is therefore dedicated to the theoretical process leading to the word ‘spontaneous’, contemplated from its general to its ‘targeted’ meaning and thus applied to the museum field.

The first step considers a first, non-specialist source, such a dictionary definition. Here, the adjective ‘spontaneous’ is described as something “performed or occurring as a result of a sudden impulse or inclination and without premeditation or external stimulus”,[2] where the words ‘impulse’, ‘inclination’ and ‘without premeditation’ are of particular interest. They actually contribute to clarify what lies behind the foundation of certain kind of museums or exhibition spaces, opened in order to indulge personal interests and to follow the need to share something with a (local as well as non-local) community.

A similar idea is also stated and supported by the performance ‘Spontaneous Museum’ curated by Ekaterina Shcherbakova and Azad Asifovich, occurred at Palais de Tokyo (Paris) in 2014. Borrowing the curators’ statement:

the aim of the performance is the creation of a chance, a haphazard approach to whether things are done. It creates a collection, based on the concept of spontaneity as well as on subjectivity [...] it’s a proposal for humanized collection, free from any institutional rules of the art world.[3]

The project is therefore centred on the keywords ‘spontaneity’, ‘subjectivity’ and ‘freedom’, suggesting that this imitation of a museum is a non-institutional place where one can collect, organise a visit but also contemplate art. Dynamics that, even when recontextualised and displaced in a different situation, respond to the same impulses and stimuli, giving a similar result.

Again, apropos museums working with spontaneity, we can mention another example: the Spontaneous Art Museum, founded in Brussels in 1995 and based on a collection of ‘non-labelled’ artworks. As claimed on the website, the museum’s mission is to exhibit works “simply and freely made, without constrictions. Their [the artists’] art is different. Outside the norms, outside the institutionalised frameworks, beyond the rules, the borders and limits”.[4] In this place, where there are no aesthetic preconceptions nor categorisations, art can be just itself, without frontiers and time restrictions.

1.2. About objects and collections

This with regard to the contents. From the point of view of collections and collectors, other are the references to look at, other the questions to state. For instance, why do we need to collect objects? What is the spur encouraging us to gather particular specimens as well as common items? Why do we share our collections with people, with an ideal ‘public’ or the entire society? Several are the studies[5] around those queries, persisting since the emergence of museum and ‘collecting’, considered as personal interest as well as representation of a ‘social status’.

Through the centuries, the common, recurring thread connecting those fields seems to be the strong relationship between the owner and the object(s) possessed. By the way – whether by virtue of its aesthetical or semiological values – a series of objects by itself cannot be treated as a collection unless it tells a story, it embodies a moment, a situation, or it represents a personality, a place.

Peter Linett, after a visit in a small museum of ‘found, ready-made’ objects, explains that process with simple and clear words.

For him

collecting is a universal human impulse [...] The idea is that all kinds of people can relate to museums because everyone knows first-hand the thrill of gathering, organizing, comparing, and studying cool stuff – and it doesn’t matter whether the stuff in question is Renaissance sculpture or dead, soon-to-be-smelly sea stars that washed up in the tide.[6]

‘Thrill of gathering’ that – according to Mieke Bal – is caused and justified by fetishism, that often pushes people to develop material interests in objects and motivate them towards possession,[7] while Werner Muensterberger[8] attributes it to a psychological anxiety, often compensated by accumulations of goods. Summing up, it is just “when a self-conscious narrator begins to ‘tell’ its story, bringing about a semiotics for a narrative of identity, history, and situation”,[9] and passing from a passive status of owner to an active role of raconteur that one turns into a collector, showing and sharing its narratives and perspectives. At this point, once the trigger is pulled, every single piece of the whole story is capable of conveying variable meanings and values according to factors like the contextual framework, the purposes of the ‘producer’, the identity of the receiver and their mutual influences and intentions.[10]

There are numerous cases supporting this: among them, private as well as public, tangible as well as virtual collections based on artworks and paintings, but also on artefacts, projects or everyday items. For example, virtually collecting ‘impossible objects’, which are then stored and visualised on a web platform called The Uncomfortable, the Greek architect Katerina Kamprani wants to create “a collection of deliberately inconvenient objects”.[11] Since 2011, she has been inventing and designing voluntarily useless objects and, at times, producing prototypes merely conceived to annoy (and enjoy) people.[12] Just to mention some, the Thick cutlery set or the Uncomfortable wine glass are accessories developed as aesthetically pleasant but practically unusable. Ultimately, they are all created in order to share the same pragmatic dysfunctionality.

We can also consider the Museum of Innocence in Istanbul, designed and founded by the writer Orhan Pamuk whilst he was writing the namesake book.[13] Although the nineteenth-century house where the museum is located opened only in 2012, the author began gathering the objects of his collection already in the 1990s. As he wrote, the items he selected for the exhibition are meaningful not just because of their material values, but especially for all the memories they evoke and all the stories they are able to communicate. Collecting is, in other words, an act we accomplish in order to fill a cultural gap, as “the power of things inheres in the memories they gather up inside them, and also in the vicissitudes of our imagination, and our memory – of this there is no doubt”.[14] The result is therefore a fascinating place where a series of stuffed cabinets tell a story ‘chapter by chapter’, window by window. Together, they shape a modern Wunderkammer, an ‘encyclopaedic novel’[15] built on a hopeless love story, and even though there is a bonding between the book and the museum, “just as the novel is entirely comprehensible without a visit to the museum, so is the museum a place that can be visited and experienced on its own”.[16] Yet they undoubtedly enrich each other.

Shifting scenery and moving to the small Italian village named Ozzano di Taro (Parma), we find the Fondazione Museo Ettore Guatelli, which is a museum with an object-based collection intended to preserve a vanishing rural past. Its founder, Ettore Guatelli (1921–2000), was a teacher who, during the course of his life, gathered traditional items that he successively set up in his house. Within this (not-so-unconscious)[17] demo-ethno-anthropological museum, that he usually nicknamed “Museum of the Everyday” or “Museum of the Obvious”,[18] he literally accumulated series of artefacts dating back to the pre-industrial era.

“Guatelli’s predisposition to collecting followed a typical ‘rural attitude’ and was encouraged by the necessity to preserve, reuse, repair and produce objects which had lost their original purposes, in order to create more useful ones. He was also moved by curiosity and attracted by ingenuity, by that special capability of making do with just a few means”.[19] This process, where ‘rural-ready-made objects’ are shifted into another sphere, abandoning their previous, pragmatic identity and acquiring a contemplative and theoretical status, has hence been made in the name of memory and preservation. It seems that Guatelli used “the aesthetical expedient so that the obvious can redeem itself from obviousness and it can be projected into the extraordinary museum dimension”.[20]

Extraordinary museum dimension that is also the main point of reference of this paper, a framework where we will contextualise the Nordic case studies considered at a later stage. After a short analysis of the term ‘spontaneous’ and a more detailed disquisition around the interest in collecting objects, we can conclude the first part of the paper.

In the end, when talking about ‘spontaneous museums’ we refer to non-institutionalised exhibition spaces where ordinary-object-based-collections are stored and shared with the public. They can be monothematic as well as reflect various and multiple passions, but they are generally founded and run by non-museum-professionals who, moved by curiosity, impulse and interest let their collections be accessible to ‘others’.

2. Cultural Narratives in Northern Sweden: contextualising Norrbotten and its cultural situation

From the outside, Norrbotten is essentially known as the land of Sami people, Northern lights and Gammelstad – the old town of Luleå recognised as UNESCO World Cultural Heritage site since 1996. Actually, it is much more than this. Norrbotten owes its name to its geographic position, north of the Gulf of Bothnia, overlooking the Baltic Sea. Broadest and northernmost county of Sweden, it borders Finland to northeast and Norway to northwest and it is part of Swedish Lapland. Mainly flat, it becomes more and more mountainous once the Norwegian border is approaching. Pertaining to Swedish Lapland and crossed by the Arctic Polar Circle, Norrbotten is characterised by a subpolar climate, marked by long, rigid but dry winter and sunny and bright summer. The territory is composed by 14 municipalities and Luleå, which is also its seat, is one of them. Overall, with approximately 250.000 inhabitants, its total population represents just the 2.5 per centof the entire country. The official language of the region is Swedish, while other linguistic minorities are Finnish and Meänkieli, spoken across the border with Finland (in the Tornio valley), Sami, which is the official language of the indigenous Sami people established here, and Romani, spoken nationally.

In Norrbotten, nature is definitely predominant and an important economic resource within the whole area: hydroelectric power and mining (especially in Kiruna and Malmberget) are the most influential industrial branches, together with the forestry industry, agriculture, fishing and tourism. The military sector, historically established in the region and with headquarters in Boden since the nineteenth century, is another significant ‘business’. Moreover, in the last few years, technology has been developing and expanding due to Facebook, which established new data centres in Luleå, but also to bit coin companies that settled their headquarters in Boden.[21]

On this rich and yet complex background, one can easily presume that the local cultural narratives are multiple and disparate. The museum network is though rather established, being composed of municipal museums – e.g. Gällivare museum, Àjtte museum in Jokkmokk or Piteå museum – the open-air museums of Hägnan, in Gammelstad, and the regional Norrbottens museum, in Luleå. The latter was founded already at the end of the nineteenth century but it opened just a few years later, in 1936, as the institution in charge of representing the history, the local material and immaterial culture and the cultural heritage of the whole region. For all these reasons, it can be considered as an ‘extensive organisation’[22] which is active in a large area.

3. ‘Spontaneous museums’ in Norrbotten: some case studies

Beside those museums, though, an interesting ‘exhibition sub-system’ based on non-institutional venues and on everyday-object-collections takes more and more place within the region. Definable as ‘spontaneous museums’,[23] they have been rather recently established within Norrbotten by people interested and passionate about a topic, a field or a profession. Up to now, at least ten are the ‘spontaneous museums’ resulting from a first mapping of the county; further studies, trips and analysis will be necessary and accomplished within the foreseeable future. From north southwards, we can mention the Kristallen (The Crystal) in Lannavaara, Kiruna municipality, the Myggmuseet (The Mosquito Museum), exhibited within Gällivare museum and located in the namesake village and municipality, the Holgers Traktor Museum (Holger’s Tractor Museum) in Överkalix municipality. Then, the Lilla Figurinmuseet, dedicated to miniatures and situated in Töre (Kalix municipality), the Patinamuseet in Boden, the Bensinmuseet, with a collection of former and antique petrol stations based in Älvsbyn and the Glommers Hatt och Leksaks Museum (Glommer’s Hat and Toy Museum) in Glommerträsk (Arvidsjaur municipality). Since it is not necessary going through every single case, at this stage of the study just three examples will be considered.

The first one, which is also the most ‘institutionalised’, is the Myggmuseet, originally established by Gällivare municipality in Avakadjo, Inlandsbanan’s stop[24] within a natural reserve rich of water and mires that, in summer, is usually invaded by mosquitos. Since its opening in 1999, the museum was conceived as obvious attraction for tourists passing by and exploring nature in northern Sweden. That, at least at the beginning, worked very well, since the museum annually summoned around 7.000 to 8.000 visitors,[25] who were guided by some myggguider (mosquito guides) – Lars Israelsson,[26] Lillemor Bergman and Sigge Åström[27] among them. They explained the tourists what species of mosquito lived there, showed the most effective insecticides and equipment one should opt for, and some thematic and curious souvenirs it is worth to mention – from the t-shirt “bloody summer Swedish Lapland” to the mosquito-inspired shoes. Unfortunately, the positive wave then stopped. Already in 2003, the amount of mosquitos within the area started to diminish progressively, letting the museum lose its raison d’être and forcing the administration to move it within Gällivare museum (2006), where it is still located.[28] Besides the Myggmuseet has been a place conceived, opened and promoted by a public body for clear touristic purposes, it still represents an interesting example of ‘spontaneous museum’. First, its ‘permanent exhibition’, marked by objects with symbolic more than aesthetic values, illustrates the local, natural conditions and immaterial traditions. Second, the simple management[29] and the accumulative way of displaying objects make it appear more an amateur cabinet of curiosities than a proper museum (Fig. 1, 2).

1. Display case at Myggmuseet in Gällivare; photo by Silvia Colombo, October 2018

2. Display cases showing some of the mirabilia exhibited at Myggmuseet in Gällivare; photo by Silvia Colombo, October 2018

However, this case demonstrates how the promotion of something usually seen and considered in a negative way – as an insect – can be rather successfully turned into something positive, able to promote a territorial peculiarity. In other words, the administration has been attempting to transform a discomfort in an entertaining and educative curiosity giving value to the local natural heritage.

In Svartbyn, near Överkalix, lies the Holgers Traktor Museum (Fig. 3), initiated around 20 years ago by Holger Larsson, an enthusiast of tractors and antique tools.[30] Today, the collection boasts around 200 specimens of (mostly functioning) tractors dated from the 1930s until today, and moto scooters displayed in a field and stretched in every direction as far as the eye can see. Besides this open-air section, which is the main attraction of the place although – for obvious reasons[31] – accessible only in summer, arranged in a wooden pavilion there is also a smaller exhibition of old vehicles, agricultural as well as other kind of instruments.

The popularity of this place[32] lies not only in its unique collections and in the entertaining skills of its founder, but also in its educative potentials, as it presents and preserves the regional history of agriculture.[33]

Moreover, in 2018, Holger opened another museum-section where is stored and displayed a massive amount of antique – wall as well as wrist – clocks partially coming from the collection owned by the pharmacist Emma Pajala (from Pajala),[34] and partially from his personal.[35] In a recent interview published on the local magazine NSD, Holger said that the funniest thing about collecting clocks (Fig. 4, 5) is repairing them when they do not work anymore, giving them a second (or third, or fourth) chance.[36] And, apparently, he is not tired of collecting yet.

3. Holgers Traktor Museum in Svartbyn, Överkalix; photo by Silvia Colombo, August 2018

4. The wall clock collection at the Holgers Traktor Museum in Svartbyn, Överkalix; photo by Silvia Colombo, August 2018

5. The wrist clock collection at the Holgers Traktor Museum in Svartbyn, Överkalix; photo by Silvia Colombo, August 2018

Like Myggmuseet, Holgers Traktor Museum gives value to a local specificity through collecting but it is even more focused on the ‘good old days’, on a group of items pertaining to a moment that is definitely concluded and representing the material and immaterial heritage of the area.

This inevitably triggers the ‘nostalgia factor’ for something that is not hic et nunc anymore, as also suggested by a comment someone left on TripAdvisor[37] after a visit to the museum. In fact, it is possible that folk museums “evoke a time that allegedly allowed for a simpler yet more fulfilled life, embedded in a community and in touch with nature”.[38] In fact, it is exactly in the encounter between the museum’s designer, the objects exhibited and the public that the past is re-enacted through an ‘idealized narrative’.[39]

Narratives that are rather meaningful also in the third and last case examined, the Patinamuseet in Boden. Not surprisingly, its founder, Pelle Brännström, on the museum’s website wrote that “in order to increase the nostalgia factor, all the objects are [exhibited] in their original conditions, with their unaltered traces of times”.[40]

Opened since 2012 within a historical building, the museum’s mission – as its name suggests – alludes to “a thin surface layer that develops on something because of use, age, or chemical action”.[41] That is why, going through its exhibition spaces, one can admire a consistent selection of antiques and mirabilia of various sorts the he has been collecting for a long time. Among them, there are old bicycles, mopeds and motorcycles, but also hairdressing, music, camping and cobbler tools and, most of all, the collection’s centrepiece, a skeleton riding a bicycle, exhibited in a huge display case at the centre of the room (Fig. 6-8).

Patinamuseet, though, is able to start those ‘nostalgic dynamics’ also by virtue of an unstoppable ‘flooding of remembrance’ originated by the fascinating, rusty and imperfect objects shown in its exhibition spaces. In fact, as consciously affirmed by Brännström, “the museum will bring your memories back. It is like when you listen to your childhood music and, suddenly, memories appear in your mind”.[42] And the power generated by this temporary connection with something material – or, at least, perceivable with our senses – seems to be relevant when referred to our museum experience. That is because “the experience of reminiscence work [...] would appear to suggest that objects provoke memories and ideas in ways that other information-bearing materials do no, or may not to the same degree”.[43] So, the bonding between ‘me’ as a ‘visitor’ and the ‘museum’ as a place filled with a collection of objects’ turns out to be reinforced, being on the verge of a collective and yet personal memory at the same time.

6. Various tools and instruments collected at Patinamuseet in Boden; photo by Silvia Colombo, August 2017

7. Antique beauty tools at Patinamuseet in Boden; photo by Silvia Colombo, August 2017

8. A skeleton riding a bike at Patinamuseet in Boden; photo by Silvia Colombo, August 2017

4. Conclusions

This is to give a general sense of what is happening in the cultural field of a sparsely populated area as Norrbotten. The fact that the interest in those kind of themes, into popular culture and ‘spontaneous museums’ is increasing is also demonstrated by the emergence of other similar cases. For example, Sverige Radio has recently published an interview with Rolf Svanberg and Lisbeth Lind Svanberg,[44] who have newly founded the Halmmuseum (Straw Museum), near Boden, which is based on a collection (around 1.500 items) of artefacts made.

In light of this, it is evident that ‘spontaneous museums’ and their popular and antique objects are undoubtedly important within the whole region, since they symbolise certain interests, traditions and habits, shaping and representing the local community. All of them, capable of bearing evident, material features, also work as means through which immaterial heritage and culture is spread and conveyed to people. In the end, this contributes to mould the identity of the area, recognisable not so much for its geographic and political borders, as for its cultural and historical background. The never-ending and circular connection between past present and future works also as cohesive element, making heritage

beneficial to a people. First, its antiquity conveys the respect and status of antecedence [...], underpins the idea of continuity and its essentially modernist ethos of progressive, evolutionary social development. Second, societies create emblematic landscapes in which certain artefacts acquire cultural status because they fulfil a need to connect the present to the past in an unbroken trajectory. Third, the past provides a sense of termination in the sense that what happened in it has ended, while, finally, it offers a sequence, allowing us to locate our lives in what we see as a continuity of events.[45]

Beata Nessel-Łukasik

Ministry of Culture and National Heritage

Robert Supeł

Director of the Józef Piłsudski Museum in Sulejówek

ON THE DOORSTEP. THE MUSEUM AND ITS MILIEU

Józef Piłsudski and Sulejówek

Józef Piłsudski is considered to be one of the greatest heroes of twentieth-century Poland, the leading figure in Poland regaining independence in 1918, and a key force in the creation of the Second Republic of Poland, sometimes known as the Second Polish Commonwealth to emphasize the continuity with electoral monarchy – the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. Piłsudski is also unmistakeably associated with the victory in the 1920 war with Lenin’s Russia. A celebrated man and a hero, who, having lost his family home as a child, recaptured it at the age of 56 when he settled in a small town near Warsaw, Sulejówek.[1]

In 1921 Aleksandra Szczerbińska, soon Piłsudski’s second wife, bought a timber house (called Villa Otradno or, more commonly, Drewniak) and a neighbouring empty plot of land, Villa Milusin, at Sulejówek. Initially, however, the family treated the residence as seasonal, like many of their neighbours (Fig. 1). At the time, Sulejówek was a holiday resort for many residents of Warsaw, including representatives of political elites. In 1923, Polish Army soldiers built a new house as a gift for their commander on the empty plot. In the same year, Piłsudski resigned from office and limited his public activity to live with his wife and two daughters in the villa, from then on known as Milusin Manor (Fig. 2). Before Piłsudski’s return to power, the family spent three years there. These were probably the calmest and happiest years in Piłsudski’s adult life.[2]

1. The Piłsudski’s first home at Sulejówek; photo from the archive of the Józef Piłsudski Family Foundation

Piłsudski died in 1935. His wife and daughters left Poland shortly after the German invasion of Poland. The properties at Sulejówek remained in the hands of the Piłsudski family until the end of World War II, when they were seized by the communist authorities. For many years, the manor house served as a kindergarten, and Drewniak was turned into communal flats for several families. However, despite the reluctance of the communist authorities towards Lenin’s victor, the name of Sulejówek came to be permanently associated with the Piłsudski family name.

2. On the porch of the Milusin Manor. From the left: Lt Michał Galiński, Aleksandra Piłsudska, Wanda and Jagoda Piłsudski, Marshall Piłsudski, the children of gendarme Majewski, Sulejówek, 1927; photo from the archive of the Józef Piłsudski Museum.

Józef Piłsudski Museum in Sulejówek

In 1981, a group of active residents established the Society of Friends of Sulejówek, which set itself the goal of creating the Museum of Marshal Józef Piłsudski in Milusin Manor. Following several years of efforts aimed at restoring the memory of the former residents of the town, in 1988, on the initiative of the Society, the Historical Enclave of the Town was created and a mound was erected to commemorate Piłsudski and other co-creators of Independence. Very soon, city authorities realised the value of building the town’s image upon the legend of the Marshal and other eminent personalities of the Second Polish Republic, also linked to Sulejówek. As a result, at the end of the communist era, ideas previously popularised by the Society were finally reflected in the town’s public space. Many streets were given names referring to historical events. At that time, the City Council also approved a new coat of arms, with symbolism referring directly to Piłsudski.[3] In recent years, the creation of Sulejówek’s identity around Piłsudski’s figure was completed by the unveiling of another monument to the Marshal in Niepodległości Square, next to the Mound of the Co-Creators of Independence. Today, the most important celebrations organised by the City Hall and various local communities are celebrated there.

Wanda Piłsudska and Jadwiga Piłsudska-Jaraczewska, the Marshal’s daughters, returned to Poland in 1990. Shortly afterwards, they established the Józef Piłsudski Family Foundation with the aim to create a museum dedicated to their father. At this point, the family’s activity coincided with the efforts of Sulejówek’s community, which in consequence led to the transfer of properties previously owned by the Piłsudski family to the Foundation. In 2008, after gaining support of the Ministry of Culture and National Heritage, the Józef Piłsudski Museum in Sulejówek was established. The primary goal of the new institution was to create a museum and educational complex at Sulejówek, and to renovate properties belonging to the Foundation, including the third historic building, Villa Bzów, located on the plot leased by the town for the needs of the emerging museum, as well as the construction of a new building that would house a permanent narrative exhibition.

Responsibility of the investor

The above story could illustrate an exemplary model for the creation of a new museum institution closely embedded in its immediate surroundings. The synergy of the local community, the family of the museum’s protagonist and the central government’s activities, suggests a lasting and tension-free relationship between the museum and its surroundings. Unfortunately, the reality can be surprising. Therefore, the moment of establishing the museum should be treated as the beginning rather than end of efforts to build lasting links between the museum and its surroundings.

Let us remember that the town has been using the three historic buildings for many years. One as a nursery, one as housing, and the third one leased to the museum – a doctors’ surgery. For a relatively small town, relocating a nursery, a surgery, and finding accommodation for the displaced tenants presented a big challenge. Therefore, after such an effort, the local community rightly expected that the new central institution (financed by the Ministry) would shortly not only take care of the monuments, but also compensate the expense via its activities and attract crowds of visitors. Meanwhile, the creation of the museum’s concept, its design, securing funding, revitalization of monuments and the construction of a new building with a permanent exhibition are time-consuming processes, which in the case of the Józef Piłsudski Museum in Sulejówek have been going on for more than a decade now.[4]

On the one hand, it would seem that an investment of such a high value, one that would attract crowds of visitors to a small town, should be met with an adequate response of local authorities who would adequately prepare the urban infrastructure for the reception of a large numbers of visitors. On the other hand, it is also worth remembering about the reality in which such communities operate, meaning that due to financial constraints, they may not be able to meet such expectations. Therefore, it is not always realistically possible to synchronise the entirely independent processes of museum construction and changes in the urban structure – thus creating strain between the newly established institution and the local authorities.

Another issue that casts a shadow over the relationship between the museum and its surroundings is the protracted construction time which, due to the scale of the investment, has become burdensome for the inhabitants of a small town, and in particular for the construction site’s immediate neighbours. Traffic, noise and, in extreme cases, material damage continue to create new waves of frustration in the local community, which is still impatiently awaiting the completion of its long-standing efforts to establish a museum, honour its most famous inhabitant, and develop a space that would integrate the various groups that coexist in a town lacking a local cultural centre.

3. The ceremony of completing the construction work on the modern building of the museum and educational complex, Sulejówek, 10 November 2018

4. A visualisation of the museum project, Platige Image S.A., 2016

All of the abovementioned issues may become a concern in the relationship between the newly created museum and its immediate surroundings. Therefore, the museum must handle them with extraordinary sensitivity and responsibility. This is why the institution’s staff strives to ensure that the relations between the museum, the local residents, and the authorities are a field of genuine collaboration and dialogue, especially in areas where there is a high likelihood of conflict. The local community should have the right to monitor the construction progress on an ongoing basis (Fig. 3), have access to reliable and continuous information about what is happening in the area, and an opportunity to co-create the institution and its programmes. Unfortunately, this is not always achievable in practice.

The museum’s staff has been working on the investment and the institution’s collection and programme for over a decade now. Not always, however, have they devoted enough time to maintain their relationship with the local area. This resulted in a several blunders that have caused the local community to be absent from the process at certain stages, as exemplified by the visualisation of the museum-educational complex prepared in 2016 (Fig. 4). It shows nothing but the area occupied by the museum. Other urban buildings do not exist, so the newly created museum appears as an enclave completely detached from the town, in no visible way connected to it. Seemingly a small misstep, it impacted the delicate relationship between the museum and the local community, and simultaneously launched the museum on a difficult, long path of finding the right ways of communicating with the local community and managing its expectations, in order to minimise the risk of similar missteps in the future.

Public consultations

Building a museum in a small town of 20 000 inhabitants, close to a major metropolis, is a right moment for defining the role that it should and could play in the life of the local community, as well as asking questions about the scope of the social impact of the new cultural institution. How do the museum staff and the local residents perceive this expected influence? Do these two sides have anything in common, and if so, why? What divides them, and why? As the practice of the Józef Piłsudski Museum in Sulejówek shows, gathering knowledge and experiences related to the establishment of a new institution within the social tissue of a town is neither a simple nor a short-term task.

First of all, getting to know the surroundings, the town and its residents, requires an institution to undertake a whole series of activities which, appropriately selected and spread over time, would allow asking questions about the phenomena that interest us and finding correct answers.[5] Thus, it is necessary to create a team made up of people with an array of different competences and skills, who will be able to carry out both social research and research that is relevant to the profile of the museum and the needs of the local community. Staff should include sociologists, anthropologists or ethnographers, community art practitioners, cultural animators, local history enthusiasts, and social activists, who will find appropriate solutions for rooting the cultural institution in its surroundings.[6]

Secondly, during the implementation of social programmes and deepening the knowledge about the local community, it is equally important to make use of existing and previously verified solutions. Unfortunately, despite the many changes that have taken place in the last several years in Polish museum institutions, activities concerning museums’ milieu or research of groups forming around them are still uncommon.[7] Often, museum programmes are limited almost exclusively to spaces within the museum and to deepening knowledge about visitors of particular institutions. This, in turn, makes it impossible to develop mechanisms that would make it easier to get to know the surroundings of the museum and to implement activities extending the social impact institutions have on their local environment. The lack of access to best practices and implementation of methods popularised by social research results in the fact that many museums limit their relations with the local community to sporadic formal contacts[8] and do not conduct research of their potential audiences.[9]

In contrast, the Józef Piłsudski Museum in Sulejówek, in which a long-term study of the town’s social fabric and activities within and outside of the museum’s space was launched in the early stages of the institution, is a rare, even unique example of an institution which managed to ‘go outside’ and take a closer look at its surroundings over the past few years. However, this would not have been possible without its cooperation with different backgrounds. Thanks to special programmes aimed at museum institutions striving to get to know their audiences and two years of cooperation with a university, it was possible not only to develop and carry out the first activities involving the residents, but also to conduct various social consultations[10] that allowed to verify the image of Sulejówek and its residents and to learn more about the local community’s expectations in relation to the new institution (Fig. 5).

Local community and the museum

During workshops and other important events in the life of the local community that were organised before the start of the investment, it transpired that the inhabitants did not know much about what was going on beyond the threshold of the institution located in their close neighbourhood. Only the groups that permanently cooperate with the museum, such as teachers, were well informed about the institution’s programme. Therefore, one of the first conclusions that emerged after the initial talks with the residents in 2014,[11] was that there was not only a need to open up and expand communication channels, but also to create new spaces for interaction with those who could in time become the museum’s ambassadors in their neighbourhoods. Today, after four years of understanding the role that ‘whispered marketing’ still plays in the life of the local community, we have managed to expand the group interacting with the museum to include representatives of organisations such as the Society of Friends of Sulejówek or Sulejówek Running (Rozbiegany Sulejówek), as well as other locals: history enthusiasts, cultural animators, or employees of other institutions such as the town’s library or the community centre. As a result, residents are now more effectively informed about the activities of the museum and about the museum’s programmes within the space of their town.[12]

5. Workshop “Why a Museum” realized as part of public consultations among Sulejówek residents, 2014; photo by K. Szuba

Another outcome of the longstanding conversation with the local communities was taking notice of the discrepancy between the fact that while the local residents are very proud of the museum’s building, i.e. the Milusin Manor, which in their opinion distinguishes Sulejówek from other towns, in fact they have very little knowledge about the house itself and its former inhabitants. In other words: they treat the place as a landmark, but often are not sure what is actually there. The next step, therefore, in building the relationship between the museum and its surroundings was to use the resources of both the museum (the collection) and the local community (individual knowledge, their memories, and private collections) not only for a collective re-creation of the local history,[13] but also for a creative interpretation of the remaining traces of memory. Thus, in just three years – following the initial diagnosis of the problem based on the local community’s participation in different local programmes themed ‘My history – my museum’, more than 1,000 inhabitants have visited the museum.

The successful building of a relationship between the museum and residents would be impossible if the latter did not draw the attention of the former to one more issue – namely, the very strong need to integrate and activate this very diverse and economically stratified community. During the multithreaded discussions about the museum and its surroundings, the participants of individual public consultations often emphasised that when it comes to the relationship between the museum and the local community, it is extremely important to create a meeting place on the premises of the museum that in time could become a kind of a social centre. Then the museum would not only cease to be “separated from the residents by a huge fence”,[14] but could also expand its cooperation with the local community and the scope of its influence on Sulejówek’s social capital. In order to achieve this, however, the museum had first to find out how such a space could function – i.e. what could encourage the various groups of residents to gather in the Józef Piłsudski Museum in Sulejówek.

Museum and the local community

From the museum’s point of view, Sulejówek residents are just one part of its future audience. Nevertheless, due to the history of the museum and its location, they undoubtedly occupy a special place among other visitors. Therefore, the local community quickly became one of the three communities with which the museum wanted to build extensive relations from the very start.[15] Unfortunately, the first activities organised as part of the 2012 public events schedule demonstrated that despite initial declarations it is tremendously difficult for the both sides to meet.[16] Once the museum began activities outside of its space, the ongoing talks with the inhabitants have begun in earnest. Without this process of looking closer at the social space around the museum over several years, it would have been impossible to identify the needs of the local community, to discover local resources, or to start the long-term, very difficult process of building relations with the local residents (Fig. 6).

6. A street action organized with the residents as part of the project “I Am Standing in Front of a Strange Trumpet”, Sulejówek, 2017; photo by Z. Gozdecki

This does not mean, however, that launching activities aimed at building a local community around the museum was easy. The majority of Sulejówek’s residents work in Warsaw and at weekends take advantage of the cultural offer of the capital or the small nearby towns. As a result, many residents rarely spend their free time in the immediate vicinity of their homes, limiting it to participation in several major public events, primarily outdoor and sports events. How to reach out to those absent from the public space? When and where? How to invite them in? Very soon it turned out that a good start would be to utilise the historical residence of the museum – Milusin, and its beautiful garden, which in the summer season was a great place for local residents to relax. This is how the programme ‘Discover Sulejówek’ was born – a series of recurring summer creative workshops that have become a permanent fixture on the museum and town’s calendar of events.

Initially, the programme was addressed just to children spending their summer holidays at Sulejówek in 2013. Situated among pine forests in the Mazovian dunes, before 1939 the town was one of Warsaw’s summer resorts. In the 1940s, holidaymakers and children still went there to spend their summers. With more than 20,000 inhabitants, the town hardly resembles that former resort. Because of this, it is particularly important to meet the needs of many Sulejówek families who, during the summer, look for an opportunity to relax in green spaces close to home.

The first summer creative workshops turned out to be such an opportunity – first for children, and later for youth and adults. Over time, thanks to their interesting programme, it turned out that even while the garden was closed for renovation, there was no shortage of people willing to take part in joint creative activities focussing on the town’s history and public space, and another interesting location or a private garden could be found.[17] Yes, thanks to finding concrete, simple solutions, we managed to launch the first permanent programme for local residents, as part of which the participants not only have created town audio guides and questing, but also renovated – together – one of the elements of Piłsudski’s historical garden – a crane, which in the 1920s was a permanent fixture of the cultural landscape of Sulejówek.[18]

7. A street action organized with the residents as part of the project “I Am Standing in Front of a Strange Trumpet”, Sulejówek, 2017; photo by Z. Gozdecki

Having built the nucleus of an intergenerational community of local residents and partners interested in the museum’s programme, the time has come to ask how this scope of cooperation and close, often very personal, relationships could be extended. Study visits,[19] conversations with museum ambassadors in the local community[20] and research conducted within the ‘Investigate Culture’[21] programme resulted in the museum, town library, and the Society of Friends of Sulejówek inviting local residents to create digital resources for the city’s Social Archive. An idea of sharing family histories or an interest in learning about the place in which they have just moved to has emerged among the local residents. Today, the archive contains 146 recordings of memoirs and 1041 digitised items (documents, photographs, family memorabilia), about which 18 articles have been written by residents for the local newspaper.[22] Some of them were found thanks to the involvement of the national media and the implementation of the museum’s unique participation project.

Common space

Sulejówek and the museum are linked not only by common history or the fact of functioning within a single social space. What makes it much easier to build mutual relations today is also a certain common area of often personal experiences, which translate into the fact that for many residents, the Milusin Manor – the museum’s central building – is much more than just a historical monument. It is also the space of numerous important sentimental journeys that, even before the opening of the museum, allowed one to experience very personal encounters with the museum outside of its premises.

Between 1956 and 2000, the Piłsudski family’ former home Milusin served as the city’s Nursery no. 1. In those 44 years, the ‘enchanted garden’ and ‘mysterious’ place – as it was described by the participants of the project ‘I Am Standing in Front of a Strange Trumpet’[23] –has witnessed many, often significant, moments in the lives of three generations of Sulejówek’s residents. Today, the memories of those times recalled by the producers and others who accepted the museum’s invitation to participate in the programme about the post-war history of Milusin[24] became the basis for a series of family-style meetings with the museum’s neighbours. During the meetings, residents recorded their recollections, created their own, short radio broadcasts together with journalists, and later presented the outcomes to other residents in various spaces of the town.[25] Often, it transpired that what really unites the residents and the museum is the place, strongly engraved in their memories (Fig. 7).

Once you went through the gate, Milusin was on the right, and on the left, some kind of covered bicycle shed.

Edyta Kalinowska, born 1978

The stove had these cast iron lids, so it was probably a coal stove.

Aniela Małek, born 1956

At the time, everything seemed so large to me, since the hall was so big. And the garden was huge. The hills were huge.

Marta Kubacka-Świątek, born 1988

You would go to the nursery as if it was your home.

Aniela Małek, born 1956

My grandmother always told me: remember that your nursery will be famous one day and remember that you should never be ashamed that you were born at Sulejówek. Because this is the home of Józef Piłsudski. Grandpa.

Irmina Rawińska, born 1963

I had a great pleasure to meet Ms Jadwiga Jaraczewska. It was during the symbolic handing over of the nursery building to the Józef Piłsudski Foundation

Sergiusz Królak, born 1998

In a place like this, time catches up with you. For me, it will always be a nursery. I guess that’s how it is going to be.

Tomasz Przybyszewski, born 1982

This building is alive. And so, it will be passed down from generation to generation that these are not just four walls and a roof. And I went to the museum, I paid for my ticket, and I saw this and that. It has a completely different meaning.

Marysia Kubacka-Świątek, born 1988

These are just a few reminiscences about Milusin. They show that residents perceive the location of the museum in many different ways, they treat it as their own, personal space – a space one would like to return to, visit and share with their loved ones. Almost all participants of the first residents’ project eagerly await the opening of Milusin to rediscover this place for themselves.

A multitude of realities. About us and the museum

The scope of the museum’s influence has grown alongside the new experiences of collaboration with local residents. The map of places with new partners for joint activities has expanded: the Volunteer Fire Department located on the other side of town, the Culture Centre at Okuniew, the Museum of the Land of Mińsk at Mińsk Mazowiecki, or the town libraries at Wesoła and Rembertów, the districts of Warsaw neighbouring Sulejówek. Each one is a good place to ask about different local communities living near the museum, how they imagine the place where they could meet and why they would like to do so. Eight hundred people of different ages joined the last research and educational project, the specially prepared presentation entitled, ‘A multitude of realities. Exhibition about us and the museum’[26] (Fig. 8).

8. Research and educational project “A multitude of realities. Exhibition about us and the museum”, Sulejówek, 2018; photo by M. Różycka

The majority of participants of meetings organised during the exhibition declared that they visit various museums in search of both knowledge and emotion. However, when it comes to the Józef Piłsudski Museum in Sulejówek, they expect that in addition to broadening these kinds of experiences, they will be able to find a space for joint social and cultural activities in which they could actively participate. Therefore, they expect not only the opportunity to encounter interesting and varied sightseeing, but to partake in an array of activities encouraging regular meetings between diverse audiences.

For us, you visit a museum once, and then maybe with guests or on some kind of special occasion. And here, there was the opportunity to create this museum.

Modern museums do not impose their vision of how you are supposed to view them.

A place like this museum, I think it can do a lot more for the community, for local people.

We could not only meet with the museum staff, but also invite other people.[27]

These few statements from participants indicate a new direction for the museum. This does not mean, however, that immediately after the opening, various groups that used to spend their free time in completely different spaces would flock to the institution – a museum associated with seeing exhibitions rather than other interesting activities. Therefore, overcoming a certain stereotype of the perception of a museum as a place of acquiring knowledge and collecting items from the past is a process that requires time. It involves both the preparation of the space around the museum and continual, additional activities that will bring the local community closer to the museum’s new form and provide them with a range of different, ongoing activities.

Summary

The process of establishing a relationship between the museum and its surroundings requires actions across several areas. An extremely important element of this process, beyond communication and collaboration related to the investment, is to create a space for implementing projects co-created by local residents and the inclusion of various groups building the institution’s identity and programme. These kinds of practices are the foundation for building relationships and strengthening bonds between the museum and its surroundings. Knowledge and experience stemming from activities undertaken beyond the threshold of the museum are undoubtedly the basis for this process. Without them, creating strong links between the institution and the surrounding social fabric might well prove impossible.

Jan Godłowski

Director of the Cracow Saltworks Museum at Wieliczka, and Monuments Conservator of the Saltworks

CRACOW SALTWORKS MUSEUM AT WIELICZKA AS AN ACTIVE PLAYER IN THE BUILDING OF MINING HERITAGE COMMUNITY

To use the term ‘active player’ in relation to a museum institution may sound provocative or even suggest an association with other kinds of activity, for example business activity (‘an active player in the market’). However, the museum can be an active player both within its area of interest, as well as its surroundings, the local community, etc. For a museum to be an active player means to show initiative, decisive actions, even a certain belligerence in setting and implementing goals and acquiring space, taking advantage of opportunities to effectively realise its mission and to build a position as a cultural institution, both in its immediate neighbourhood and within the institutional environment. Nowadays, there are growing expectations that museum institutions closely cooperate with local communities and are actively involved in the life of local communities, while building their future in relation to the past.

The term ‘cultural industry’ has appeared, favouring a shift in how the museum’s role is perceived – no longer a sacred space of culture, but rather a commercial institution, closely integrated with society, expected to develop a certain ‘product’ and thus generate profit. Specific programmes, including educational and outdoor events, are addressed to a wider audience and are not only intended to draw exhibition goers, but also bring financial benefits. Museum collection becomes a specific product expected to earn money. Personally, I keep my distance from such commercial approach to the museum’s mission. However, I believe that the methods and tactics used in the business world can be tremendously effective for contemporary museums and the new challenges they face. What is needed is courage and faith in the fact that it is quite possible to achieve any agreed, even if seemingly demanding, goal.

1. The Wieliczka Castle, where exhibitions are held, the seat of Cracow Saltworks Museum; photo: A. Grzybowski

Drawing on my experiences working as a manager – also in the museum sector – I can say that yes, it can be done (we can do it!). Various museums have different, specific characteristics related to the scope of their activity and mission. The scale of their activities, as well as the related needs and financial possibilities, also differ. When it comes to traditionally understood functions of the museum, its basic tasks are collecting, storing, studying and making available of the artefacts; exhibiting them in an appropriate manner and, finally, educational activity. But do we want anything more than that? Can we draw on the enormous potential of the institution – the knowledge accumulated in the museum – and make a real impact on our broadly understood environment, so as to better preserve the cultural heritage entrusted in our care? More and more often, museum workers face the dilemma whether to limit themselves to the basic, statutory functions of the museum or to introduce innovation, significantly expanding and adapting the functioning of institutions to the changing (also technologically) contemporary world and audience expectations. In order to achieve concrete results, it is certainly necessary to require museum’s bosses to adapt a wide-ranging managerial view, set appropriate goals, and assess the real possibilities for their achievement, including the assessment of the potential of employees at their disposal.

It is worth discussing three initiatives carried out by the Cracow Saltworks Museum at Wieliczka in the past few years. These are the three case studies of museum’s activity: community building both at the local and international level, and influencing the protection of world-class monuments.

Wieliczka Museum is located in the Saltworks Castle, which since mid-thirteenth century has been the administrative centre of the historical saltworks company comprising the Wieliczka and Bochnia mines, with all their facilities including the saltworks and a saltworks farm.[1]

Today, both mines with their vast underground excavations and the castle are historical monuments and together form a UNESCO World Heritage Site entry called ‘Wieliczka and Bochnia Royal Salt Mines’. Each of these facilities is managed by an independent entity and has a separate Site Manager, with a separate marketing policy uncoordinated with other partners. It is worth emphasising that the museum is a cultural institution and both mines are commercial enterprises. The Cracow Saltworks Museum was established in 1951 as an independent institution in the operational salt mine in Wieliczka. As a cultural institution, it has always been, in comparison to the industrial enterprise, the weaker partner in terms of financing of cultural events.[2]

Case Study 1: An attempt to create a common information policy regarding the entire mining enterprise covered by the joint ‘Wieliczka and Bochnia Royal Salt Mines’ UNESCO list entry

The Wieliczka Salt Mine is a complex of mining excavations originally spanning circa 240 km of underground passages. While a large part of this complex is listed, only a small portion of around 4 km is accessible to visitors. Every year, over 1.7 million tourists visit the site. In principle, there are two entities operating within the mine: Kopalnia Soli SA – the former mining company currently working on securing the excavation sites and the servicing of tourist traffic on the 2.2 km long Tourist Route, and the Cracow Saltworks Museum, whose exhibition spans 19 chambers and the 1.5 km of connecting sidewalks on Level 3 (135 m below ground).

2. A fragment of the museum’s underground exhibition at Level 3 of the salt mine; photo: A. Grzybowski

The admission to the mine’s tourist trail and the underground exhibition are covered by a single entry ticket.[3] In addition to the underground exhibition, the Cracow Saltworks Museum also offers an exhibition at its headquarters in the medieval Saltworks Castle at Wieliczka. Bochnia Salt Mine is about 30 km away from Wieliczka; it is also on the UNESCO list and open to the public. As I mention above, these institutions are independent and pursue their own policy that, essentially, is not coordinated with the others. The relationships between the entities are fraught with a lack of mutual trust and a lack of will to cooperate resulting from historical conditions. And so, for example: there is no single page with shared information or an exchange of links to events on the individual institutions’ webpages.

Wieliczka and Bochnia Royal Salt Mines is the only Polish venue to be invited, at the beginning of 2017, by the World Heritage Centre UNESCO in Paris to participate in the ‘Underground Europe’ programme, planned for 2017–2019 as part of a broader, EU Commission financed project entitled ‘UNESCO World Heritage Journeys of Europe’. The programme is related to the 2018 European Year of Cultural Heritage and the Europe-China Tourism Year, and aims to create new UNESCO sites tourist trails of dedicated to individual tourists and groups from China and the US, as well as business tourists from Europe.

3–4. Screenshots from www.visiteuworldheritage.com

Four touristic themes were prepared: Ancient Europe, Royal Europe, Romantic Europe, and Underground Europe. In an exclusive group of 34 UNESCO-listed European destinations, nine are included in the Underground Europe programme. The programme’s partner is National Geographic. Thanks to the museum’s international activity, UNESCO turned directly to the management of the Cracow Saltworks Museum (rather than to commercial mining companies and their extensive marketing departments) with a proposal to take part in the newly created programme.

The character of this programme is tourism and marketing oriented. The museum did not have any previous experience in this field, nor a sufficiently large and appropriately trained staff. This was, however, an opportunity to convey a coherent message about the entire historical complex and its heritage, addressed to the international community and lacking the dominating views of commercial entities and their particular interests. It was also a chance to gather and communicate information about the region, which we, as cultural workers, consider worthy of increased attention. We took on the risks associated with actively participating in the international project, preparing comprehensive and substantive communications regarding the area, as well as convincing our mining partners that we would coordinate the project and thus represent the entire UNESCO list entry, including the Wieliczka and Bochnia mines.

The preparation of this specialised content was a huge effort on the part of the museum. It selected objects and themes, and compiled all the materials, maintaining a suitable balance between the historical and commercial information, and entertainment. For the first time ever, the three facilities have been represented together in the international arena. During work on the project, a seminar for all nine of the Underground Europe programme’s participating sites was organised at the three Polish sites. Let us hope that this is the beginning of a collaboration that can break down the barriers and will result in a routine, shared and well-balanced, coherent and complete, presentation of information about the entire historical complex.

Case 2: An attempt to build an international community of mining museums and to create a best practice code for subterranean, historical mining sites

By historical, I also mean quite new, almost contemporary post-industrial objects that include underground mine excavations, and whose characteristics require a brief description. Although these are not always formally listed as historical sites, they often already serve this role, while simultaneously working as museum institutions. Such sites can be compared to historic cathedrals or castles, where both these functions – a monument requiring protection and museum space – intertwine. It is obvious that the mines, as the name suggests, are below ground and cannot be seen from outside in their entirety, but from the inside, little by little. Their preservation and exposition require particular, specific actions on the part of the conservators. The approach to the adaptation of old excavations may differ significantly depending on the type of mine, the time of its establishment, and subsequent mining techniques.

Despite some common features, each mine has its own individual characteristics, that are different for salt, coal, copper, tin, silver or slate mines, and it is often difficult to compare them. Some of these sites are formally listed as monuments, some have been converted into museums, and others are de facto, if not formally, functioning as museums. Sometimes they are historical sites, other times – natural reserves. Many of the former mining sites are used commercially for entertainment, others as health resorts. or research centres. There are a few examples of underground tourist trails in operational mines. Finally, there are quite a few unused, now abandoned sites. All the above features, regardless of the way in which they are cultivated, to a greater or lesser extent make former mines a great tourist attraction and thus a good place to celebrate mining heritage.

Mining sites vary in size – from single, several dozen metres long tunnels to complexes comprising several hundred kilometres long corridors. Some mines can be and have been adapted to the needs of mass tourism, others, due to difficult approach, can be accessible only to small groups of visitors. There are also entire sites that are not accessible for safety reasons, but that are worth preserving as historically important industrial objects. By industrial facilities I mean both Neolithic flint mines and contemporary coalmines.

The style of management of these sites can also vary: some are managed by public institutions such as museums, associations of local enthusiasts, commercial entities, family businesses, ‘heirs’ of former mining companies – no longer mining, but carrying on as tourist enterprises, and finally, the tourist trails in operational facilities whose parts can be used for commercial, tourist, and museum purposes.

The question of the possible degree to which authenticity and safety in former mines can be preserved is another matter. How far can we go in adapting the space to suit the needs of visitors? What should be protected in order to preserve mining heritage and what can be used for strictly commercial purposes? What part of former equipment do we want to preserve and how can we do that? Where to find funding needed to maintain these facilities?

Thanks to the second life of the former mines – the new functions that they serve – it is possible to maintain many sites, not only because of preserving historical monuments and mining heritage and their significant educational role, but also for purely commercial reasons, or to build – and uphold – the historical awareness of local residents.[4]

It should be remembered that legal environment is an important element of how such site operate – they are often still subject to mining law, and sometimes also laws regarding the protection of historical sites.[5] The regulations and practices vary widely from country to country.

Building upon decades of experience, the Cracow Saltworks Museum at Wieliczka felt qualified to take up the challenge of building a community of both local and global historical mining centres. To this end, it hosted the International Conference of Mining and Underground Museums, Wieliczka – Bochnia, 19–22 November 2018. Both the local Wieliczka and Bochnia Mines were invited to collaborate as co-organisers. The four-day conference was preceded by intensive direct contacts with mining centres around the world and in effect was attended by representatives from 18 countries, under the motto: ‘Let’s meet and share our experiences!’

The fact that the academic community (i.e. the historians of mining heritage) met with practitioners running underground museums and tourist routes can be seen as a success. The latter protect and make the former excavations accessible to the public. My observations so far show that very often the circles of mining historians are utterly detached from those who operate (make available to visitors) the historical mines. Often, also some former mines are so self-centred that they are not interested in, and consequently do not exchange experiences with, other similar sites.

5–6. International Conference of Mining and Underground Museums, Wieliczka – Bochnia, 2018

The conference was intended as the starting point for building a platform to exchange experiences in the management of underground mining facilities. It provided space for discussions concerning successful and unsuccessful approaches, strategies to avoid mistakes, and examples to follow during transformation of post-mining facilities into commercial facilities where the primary goal is the protection of heritage. How to build the unique character of such sites? What steps should be taken in order to avoid losing historical authenticity when adapting the sites to the needs of contemporary audiences? Where is the borderline between creation and conservation? How to seek out new relationships between the establishment of new exhibition spaces and communication with the audience? Where lies the boundary between research, education, and generating profit? These are just some of the issues raised during the conference.[6]

The concrete outcome of these discussions and exchange of experiences is the start of work on the project proposal entitled ‘Best Practice Guide for Underground Mining Facilities’. The Cracow Saltworks Museum took on the role of the coordinator, and representatives of ICOMOS and TICICH offered help. I hope that in the next few years, our mining community will manage to collectively formulate the Guide that will serve the managers of mines available to the public. We also hope it will help represent the sector working to protect industrial heritage, and perhaps lead to the creation of an international committee of mining museums within ICOM. The published conference materials and, above all, the conference and its subsequent editions will create an international platform for knowledge and inspiration for centres that are planning to open underground tourist routes.

Case 3: The Cracow Saltworks Museum’s director taking on the responsibilities of the provincial monument conservator in relation to all historical salt mining sites at Wieliczka and Bochnia

I have briefly outlined the sheer scale of Wieliczka and Bochnia’s underground complexes.[7] The issue of protection of such unusual sites is very difficult. Both mines are listed, have a special status of a Historical Monument, and are included in the UNESCO World Heritage List. Decision-making regarding maintenance work and efforts to provide access are also complicated. The companies that manage the two mines – Wieliczka Salt Mine and Bochnia Salt Mine – are responsible for securing the historic parts of the mines, liquidation of unnecessary and dangerous excavations, ongoing technical maintenance of the facilities to ensure conditions enabling access to visitors, as well as commercial and educational tourist services. The Cracow Saltworks Museum, beyond its typical role in safeguarding and displaying collections and research, has been – and remains – an institution that provides opinions on the work carried out in the historical mines and provides expert advice to the Office of the Monuments Conservator.

It is practically impossible to preserve such vast underground complexes in their entirety. Especially the excavations which were created as a result of the twentieth-century salt mining by leach extraction are subject to rapid decay. An additional factor in the accelerating the convergence of post-exploitation fissures is the continuous uplift of the Carpathian Mountains, whose edge runs in the area of the Wieliczka-Bochnia deposits.[8] The mines are located directly under inhabited towns and cities.

A historical mine is simultaneously a listed monument, as well as mining reserve, a de facto museum and a tourist attraction. The mine also provides space for educational activities aimed at children, as well as students of mining and geology. It is also a space where one can carry out various commercial activities, mainly events but also health resort facilities. In order to be able to do all of this, it is necessary to provide adequate technical, sanitary, gastronomic, and logistical solutions, as well as maintain the underground workings in suitable condition. Preserving historical excavations authentically, in their near original form, requires complex mining works. It should be emphasised that we operate under the regulations of both the Geological and Mining Law, and the Law on the Protection of Listed Monuments, which are not always compatible with each other.

7. Museum and mine team during the inventory of the historic part of the salt mine at Wieliczka; photo: K. Kozłowski

In order to save such a specific monument and make full use of its potential while simultaneously adapting it to health and safety requirements of mass tourism it is necessary to have – in addition to financial resources – good cooperation between the management of these facilities, the management of the mines, the mining supervision bodies, the office for the protection of monuments and the museum, where historical knowledge about the mines is gathered. Making optimal decisions to preserve such type of monument is thus a very complicated process, preceded by historical studies for individual excavations (carried out by the museum team) and obtaining recommendations from specialist mining experts. Occasionally, it is necessary to broker a compromise between conservator’s recommendations and technical scope, with a foremost view to the safety of people. The diagram below illustrates the complexity of this multifaceted decision-making process.

In 2017, in response to the complexity of issues regarding the protection of historic mines, the museum initiated the creation of a special post dedicated to the salt mines at Wieliczka and Bochnia – the Conservator of the Cracow Salt Mines. Because of the practical competences of the museum’s team, this function was entrusted to the director of the Cracow Salt Works Museum. Thanks to this, the museum has a tangible, official influence on the processes related to investments and the protection of historic salt mine sites. Currently, the director of the museum is the controller of processes regarding the preservation of the authenticity of the sites and the sustainable development of visitors’ access.

Diagram 1. The complexity of decision-making process (prep. by J. Godłowski)

The above case studies illustrate the museum’s external activities. In the first and second example discussed above, it was possible to encourage collaboration between the two mines, while trying to build a community through joint ventures initiated by the museum. In the second case, the museum would like to pass on the Wieliczka-Bochnia Centre’s hundreds of years of experience in the field of safeguarding and providing access to mining facilities. With its scientific and financial background, it becomes a driving force behind the consolidation of the mining environment. We invite both large, leading mining centres and smaller ones to work together to create such a space – a creative platform for the presentation and exchange of ideas relating to the problems resulting from the processes of adaptation and transformation of post-industrial objects into museum institutions, as well as the established methods of solving such problems. I think that such multiparty international work on preserving the mining heritage should produce spectacular results in the future. The last example – the placing of Wieliczka and Bochnia mines under joint conservation protection – proves the museum’s determination in safeguarding historical monuments and taking on responsibility for such sites. The universal character of salt, its history and importance in the former state-run economy are impulses for a wide range of museum’s activities, also beyond the historical area of the Krakow Salt Works. The three case studies presented in this article, in which the museum played the role of initiator, coordinator and facilitator, and involved the management of two local mines in its activities at first, and with time becoming an international leader within the field concentrated around the UNESCO, ICOMOS, and TICCIH structures, fully proves the thesis contained in the title. In today’s world, the museum can and should be an active player in the broadly understood museum field in order to successfully preserve the cultural heritage for future generations.

ABSTRACTS IN POLISH

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Dorota Folga-Januszewska

TOŻSAMOŚĆ BUDUJE ROZWÓJ.
JAK MUZEA STYMULUJĄ ZMIANY W REGIONACH

W ostatnim dziesięcioleciu (2008–2018) nastąpiło istotne przejście od globalizacji do poszukiwania tożsamości. Proces ten jest widoczny w niemal wszystkich przejawach kultury i życia społecznego. Jako zjawisko kulturowe zmiana ta wydaje się oczywista, jednak naprawdę ważne jest to, że wyznacza ona również nowy sposób myślenia ekonomicznego. Muzea odgrywają kluczową rolę w tej zmianie. Jako instytucje o długiej i bogatej historii, stają się stymulatorami rozwoju lokalnego. Wartościując „miejsce” i jego odrębność ukrytą w dziedzictwie, zarówno materialnym, jak i niematerialnym, muzea prowokują osoby przybywające zarówno z bliska, jak i z daleka (turyści) do porównań i wniosków na temat tego, jaka jest rzeczywista i długotrwała wartość ich działań. „Dziedzictwo” powoli zaczyna być dla nich „prawdziwym skarbem”, a zarazem przestaje oznaczać zagładę środowiska naturalnego (jak w przypadku działalności przemysłowej czy grabieży zasobów naturalnych). Ludzie przyjeżdżają, odwiedzają, podróżują, a poszukując „czegoś innego”, ożywiają lokalne usługi i edukację, prowokują dyskusje, tworzą nowe kontakty międzyludzkie i międzyregionalne. Sieci i technologie komunikacyjne czynią ten proces łatwiejszym i bardziej zauważalnym. Proces przyspiesza. Ostatni projekt badawczy OECD (Organizacja Współpracy Gospodarczej i Rozwoju) i ICOM, „Kultura i rozwój lokalny. Maksymalizując wpływy” ma na celu spojrzenie na muzea jako potężne zasoby umożliwiające dostęp do istniejących i potencjalnych powiązań z lokalną gospodarką i społeczeństwem oraz ich wzmocnienie.

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Christopher Whitehead

USUWANIE GRANIC MUZEUM:
GŁOS, EMPATIA I ARCHEOLOGIE NIERÓWNOŚCI

Punktem wyjścia niniejszego eseju jest pytanie, czy istnienie instytucji „muzeum bez granic” jest możliwe lub pożądane dzisiaj, gdy muzeum samo w sobie jest w wielu aspektach instytucją tworzącą granice, a świat, w którym żyjemy opiera się na granicach i praktykach tworzenia granic. Muzea, celowo lub też mimowolnie, tworzą granice społeczne, ekonomiczne, epistemologiczne i kulturowe. W artykule przedstawiam strategie zmiany takiego stanu rzeczy poprzez stosowanie praktyk partycypacji społecznej i współprodukcji oraz możliwości przekraczania muzealnych murów nie poprzez rozszerzenie działalności muzealnej w przestrzeni pozamuzealnej, a ponowne przemyślenie funkcji muzeum jako węzła w ramach sieci dziedzictwa obejmującej miejsca obywatelskie i codzienne. Muzea aktywnie dążą do przekraczania granic – zarówno własnych, jak i innych – szczególnie poprzez umożliwienie uprzywilejowanej publiczności muzealnej wejścia w świat osób cierpiących gdzieś daleko, osób zmuszonych do migracji. Wiąże się to z kultywowaniem wśród zwiedzających empatycznej postawy wobec innych, ale może mieć niechciany wpływ na wzmocnienie granicy „my–oni” i pozorne uwolnienie odwiedzających od odpowiedzialności podejmowania konstruktywnych działań społecznych, jakie miałyby na celu konfrontacje z głębszymi przyczynami i warunkami cierpienia innych. Zbyt często obecne przyczyny nierówności społecznych i podziałów pozostają nieodkryte i twierdzę, że – paradoksalnie – aby muzeum zostało pozbawione granic, musi być ono zawsze świadome rzeczywistych granic istniejących w świecie. Wszystko inne sprowadza się do praktyki tworzenia fikcji, co jeszcze bardziej umniejsza znaczenie muzeów. Muzea muszą nie tylko zapewniać zwiedzającym wstrząsające doświadczenia, ale także pokazywać archeologię naszej egzystencji pełnej granic. Dzięki temu będą mogły wyposażyć publiczność w świadomość konieczną do kwestionowania wszelkiego rodzaju granic i poszukiwania sposobów na doprowadzenie do ich erozji.

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Cristina da Milano

MUZEA I KRAJOBRAZY SPOŁECZNE

Zmienia się konfiguracja demograficzna i kulturowa Europy, a wśród obywateli UE powszechne są nastroje dezorientacji, a czasami nawet odtrącenia. Ogólna równowaga i ład społeczny w państwach przyjmujących zależą od wzajemnej wiedzy i zdolności do dialogu z przybyszami. Wymiana kulturowa i możliwości wyrażania różnych kultur są zatem równie istotne, jak bezpośrednie inicjatywy na rzecz pomocy materialnej, jakie zapewniają uchodźcom społeczności przyjmujące. Bezkonfliktowe społeczeństwa wielokulturowe mogą powstawać wyłącznie w wyniku procesów wymiany i wzajemnego zrozumienia tożsamości, różnorodności, zdolności i kompetencji.

Jak podkreślono w Białej Księdze Dialogu Międzykulturowego, ani inicjatywy międzykulturowe, ani inicjatywy „obejmujące” i wzmacniające perspektywę międzykulturową nie są jeszcze szeroko rozpowszechnione. W związku z tym ważne jest zapewnienie nowo przybyłym i ich stowarzyszeniom, jak również organizacjom/instytucjom kulturowym i obywatelom Europy możliwości wzajemnego eksperymentowania w obrębie „dobrych praktyk międzykulturowych”, które mają być rozpowszechniane jako modele oraz możliwości rozpoczęcia nowego dialogu i planowania strategii pogłębiających wiedzę i wzajemne zrozumienie. Priorytetem jest również wymiana praktyk i strategii w celu zapewnienia wartości, wiarygodności, skuteczności metodologicznej, popularyzacji i trwałości.

Muzea, teatry, biblioteki i inne lokalne organizacje i instytucje kulturalne odgrywają w naszych społeczeństwach centralną rolę społeczno-kulturową, można z nich korzystać w sposób „demokratyczny”, są otwarte dla wszystkich obywateli świata, pochodzących z różnych środowisk kulturowych i nieposiadających konkretnych umiejętności językowych: ich język jest uniwersalny. Paradoksalnie, chociaż organizacje te są, par excellence, przestrzenią waloryzacji różnych kultur i wypowiedzi, często są one ekskluzywne, tzn. niedostępne dla uchodźców i migrantów. Powinny być jednak instrumentami zachęcającymi do dialogu i wzajemnego zrozumienia, a także promować różnorakie formy wyrazu kulturowego. W tym sensie mogą być systematycznie „wykorzystywane” do zaspokajania społecznych, kulturowych i twórczych potrzeb nowo przybyłych oraz do umacniania ich tożsamości.

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Constanze Itzel

ROZSZERZENIE NA EUROPĘ
– DOM HISTORII EUROPEJSKIEJ W BRUKSELI

Z wielu względów Dom Historii Europejskiej można nazwać „rozszerzonym muzeum”. Jego istota, kolekcja i publiczność mają charakter europejski. Dom Historii Europejskiej – pierwsza próba uchwycenia złożoności Europy w muzeum historycznym – ma na celu opisanie wspólnych procesów historii i ich rozbieżnych postrzegań. Artykuł porusza trzy tematy. Po pierwsze, opisuje, jak można definiować europejską naturę tego muzeum. Po drugie, nakreśla, w jaki sposób muzeum osadzone jest w przestrzeni, zarówno w lokalnym krajobrazie, jak i w szerszym kontekście europejskiej przestrzeni geograficznej. Po trzecie, kwestionuje sposób, w jaki dziedzictwo europejskie jest rekontekstualizowane w tym muzeum.

Muzeum europejskie

Dom Historii Europejskiej interpretuje historię z perspektywy europejskiej, łącząc i porównując wspólne doświadczenia i ich różnorakie interpretacje. Muzeum to można by nazwać muzeum niemożliwym, nie istnieje bowiem uzgodniony, wspólny sposób postrzegania europejskiej historii, a doświadczenia związane z wydarzeniami historycznymi są bardzo różne i zależą np. od tego, czy w trakcie danego wydarzenia ludzie byli ofiarami, sprawcami, czy obserwatorami – w zależności od narodowości i grup, do których należeli. Dodatkowo sytuację komplikował fakt, że nie istniała wcześniejsza kolekcja przedmiotów, a oczekiwano, iż wystawa i treść muzeum będzie dostępna w 24 językach Unii Europejskiej, a zarazem istotna i dostępna dla 741 milionów Europejczyków.

Wystawa powstała na bazie zrozumienia, że każda narracja historyczna jest konstrukcją. Od samego początku muzeum prezentuje podejście krytyczne, nie twierdząc, że przedstawia bezsporne fakty, ale stawiając pytania. Wybór tematów prezentowanych na wystawie opiera się na trzech kryteriach: miały być pierwotnie europejskie, rozprzestrzenione w całej Europie i uważane za charakterystyczne dotychczas znamiona Europy.

Na podstawie wyników badań, które wykazały bardzo powierzchowną wiedzę potencjalnych zwiedzających, podjęto decyzję o przedstawieniu pozornie łatwej narracji chronologicznej. W jej ramach kilka elementów zapewnia zróżnicowanie – warstwowe przedstawienie treści, mikronarracji, rozbieżnych poglądów na temat wydarzenia historycznego lub wybór obiektów, dzieł sztuki, obrazów i filmów ukazujących mnogość perspektyw. Kategoria pamięci pozwala zająć się różnymi sposobami pamiętania przeszłości w różnych okresach czasu przez różnych ludzi.

Uzupełnieniem wystaw jest obszerna oferta edukacyjna skierowana do uczniów szkół średnich i podstawowych. W ten sposób Dom Historii Europejskiej stara się zaakcentować europejski wymiar debat o historii i zbudować pomost do kwestii istotnych dla dzisiejszej Europy. Wszystkie materiały dydaktyczne są dostępne online w 24 językach urzędowych Unii Europejskiej. Ponadto programy i wydarzenia kulturalne, takie jak debaty historyczne, zawsze starają się zebrać ekspertów czy artystów z różnych części Europy.

Muzeum europejskie w środowisku lokalnym i europejskim

Muzeum mieści się w budynku dawnej kliniki dentystycznej dla dzieci o nieuprzywilejowanej sytuacji społecznej, podarowanej w latach 30. XX w. przez Georges’a Eastmana z Eastman Kodak. Historyczne części tego budynku zostały jak najlepiej zachowane, odrestaurowane i oczyszczone, a odniesienie do historii budynku zostało włączone do stałej ekspozycji. Okoliczny park również został częściowo ulepszony i zyskał na atrakcyjności dzięki rozpoczęciu działalności muzeum. Położenie w pobliżu instytucji europejskich pozwala muzeum na połączenie historii Europy, zwłaszcza historii ostatnich dziesięcioleci Unii Europejskiej, z rzeczywistością polityczną, która otacza muzeum i którą można zobaczyć z jego górnych pięter. Publiczność może połączyć wizytę w muzeum z wizytą w instytucji politycznej. Wydarzenia i programy nauczania przyczyniają się do powiązania historii Europy z dyskusjami politycznymi na temat przyszłości Europy.

Kolekcja europejska

Dom Historii Europejskiej powstał bez wcześniejszej istniejącej kolekcji – na stałą i pierwszą czasową wystawę zebrano ponad 1000 obiektów od ponad 300 użyczających z 37 krajów. Ta nowa kontekstualizacja prowadzi do interesującej zmiany w wymowie prac: obiekty o narodowym znaczeniu symbolicznym osadzone zostały w kontekście europejskim. Eksponat jest „skonfrontowany” z podobnymi eksponatami z innych krajów, co zachęca do rozmaitych interpretacji związanych albo z historią narodową, albo z podobieństwami, powiązaniami i wzajemnymi wpływami różnych państw.

Prawdopodobnie największy potencjał Domu Historii Europejskiej nie leży w renegocjowaniu dziedzictwa kulturowego w celu stworzenia jednolitej, lecz utopijnej, tożsamości europejskiej, ale w unaocznieniu różnorodności znaczeń, jakie jego zbiory mają dla różnych społeczności oraz we wzbudzaniu ciekawości wobec innych i umacnianiu wzajemnego zrozumienia.

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Paweł Kowal

OSIEM OSI SPORÓW O PREZENTACJĘ HISTORIĘ EUROPY W DOMU HISTORII EUROPEJSKIEJ

Polska jest państwem, w którym debaty historyczne odgrywają większą rolę niż w wielu innych krajach Europy. Także procesy „muzealizacji” historii współczesnej po roku 2000 były w Polsce wyjątkowo widoczne. W tym kontekście łatwiej zrozumieć, dlaczego Polska okazuje się być tym krajem Unii Europejskiej, w którym dyskusje na temat Domu Historii Europejskiej są wyjątkowo intensywne.

Ten fakt można interpretować jako element walki politycznej w Polsce. Warto jednak również przeanalizować te debatę jako katalog potencjalnych rozbieżności w postrzeganiu historii Europy przez różnych członków Unii. Tematem tej prezentacji będzie próba zinterpretowania polskiej debaty na temat Domu Historii Europejskiej.

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Katharina Küster

KWESTIA KIERUNKU?
OKUPACJA MUZEUM POMIĘDZY OPOREM A WSPÓŁUDZIAŁEM

„Takie miejsca są tak samo dla nas, jak dla każdego innego” – tym okrzykiem bojowym Brytyjski Narodowy Komitet Bezrobotnych Pracowników rozpoczął w 1921 roku okupację Walker Art Gallery w Liverpoolu. Celem bezrobotnych było wykorzystanie przestrzeni przeznaczonej dla wyższych klas społecznych, aby ich głos usłyszały osoby, które wcale nie chciały ich słuchać. Starali się rozruszać skostniałe struktury społeczne i przestrzenne miasta, którego częścią składową było i nadal jest muzeum.

Biorąc pod uwagę rzekomą atrakcyjność i popularność, jaką zyskały w ramach VII Berlińskiego Biennale okupacje instytucji artystycznych, niniejszy artykuł poddaje pod dyskusję rolę muzeum jako instytucji publicznej inicjującej protest lub/i będącej przedmiotem jego krytyki. Jak wystarczająco dobrze pokazały losy Institutional Critique (Krytyki Instytucjonalnej), instytucja jest nie tylko miejscem dyskusji i krytyki, lecz również punktem ich natychmiastowego zawłaszczenia.

Na przykładach Walker Art Gallery w Liverpoolu (1921), Palais des Beaux-Arts w Brukseli (1968) i VII Berlin Biennale (2012), przeanalizowane zostały różne motywacje i strategie okupacji muzeów, aby lepiej zrozumieć historię muzeum jako przestrzeni publicznej, a także jego instytucjonalne współsprawstwo ze strategiami oporu.

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Robert Kotowski

MUZEUM JAKO PLATFORMA ROZWOJU OSOBISTEGO

Muzea – obok gromadzenia, ochrony i eksponowania zbiorów – spełniają różnorodne funkcje społeczne, odgrywając znaczącą rolę w budowaniu więzi z ludźmi i licząc się z ich doświadczeniem. Z monumentalnych świątyń sztuki czy nauki zmieniły się w miejsca dialogu społecznego i swoistej interakcji. Stały się interdyscyplinarną platformą wymiany idei o świecie, znacząco wpływającą na kształtowanie postaw, światopoglądu i kultury swych odbiorców. Badania na temat wpływu muzeów na społeczeństwo dowodzą istnienia wielu obszarów oddziaływania, a wśród nich m.in. na rozwój osobisty, wyobraźnię, kreatywność, a nawet zdrowie i dobre samopoczucie. W zakresie rozwoju osobistego widoczny jest wpływ działalności muzeum na zdobywanie nowych umiejętności i doświadczeń, zwiększenie pewności siebie i poczucia własnej wartości, zmianę postaw, rozwijanie kreatywności, kulturowej, świadomości, komunikacji i pamięci, co potwierdza, obok wielu innych funkcji muzeów, ich znaczenie terapeutyczne. W artykule omówione zostały wybrane obszary oddziaływania muzeów i wpływu ich działalności na rozwój osobisty, postawy społeczne, procesy integracji czy przeciwdziałanie wkluczeniom.

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Milan Jan Půček

Naďa Machková Prajzová

Antonín Šimčík

ROLNICTWO: NOWO ODKRYTA TOŻSAMOŚĆ
W KONTEKŚCIE SZYBKO ZMIENIAJĄCEGO SIĘ ŚWIATA

Narodowe Muzeum Rolnictwa obchodzi setną rocznicę powstania. W tym roku jubileuszowym odwiedziły je już setki tysięcy zwiedzających. Muzeum przedstawia rolnictwo jako ważne zjawisko społeczno-kulturowe – największy wynalazek, który umożliwił ludzkości przetrwanie. Co spowodowało obecne zainteresowanie opinii publicznej zjawiskiem, które prawie zniknęło z naszego społeczeństwa?

W 2015 r. Narodowe Muzeum Rolnictwa rozpoczęło proces „odrodzenia”, aby stać się „muzeum życia”. Od stu lat NMR zbiera dokumenty dotyczące rolnictwa jako jednej z najważniejszych działalności człowieka, która zasadniczo zmieniła społeczeństwo. Rolnictwo doprowadziło do rozwoju technologii, które stosujemy do dziś i wpłynęło na nasze postrzeganie czasu. NMR przedstawia rolnictwo, leśnictwo, łowiectwo, rybołówstwo, przemysł spożywczy, i gastronomię jako kluczowe obszary zapewniające byt zarówno jednostkom, jak i całemu społeczeństwu. Pokazuje najważniejsze tematy poprzez dynamiczne wystawy i historyczne ekspozycje, gdzie zwiedzający stają się współodkrywcami oraz otwiera nowe perspektywy dla relacji pomiędzy ludzkością a naturą, dla ryzyka i możliwości zrównoważonego rozwoju oraz ludzkiego życia. Muzeum podnosi tematy, które dotyczą nas wszystkich, ponieważ rolnictwo łączy naszą przeszłość, teraźniejszość i przyszłość. Rolnictwo to nie tylko sposób na zapewnienie środków koniecznych dla naszej egzystencji. To życie pośród wiejskiego krajobrazu oraz sposób postrzegania i kształtowania tego krajobrazu. To tradycja, odpowiedzialność i podejście do życia – historia naszego życia. Z lekką tylko przesadą możemy powiedzieć, że bez rolnictwa nie byłoby historii.

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Michalina Petelska

Magdalena Blackmore

MUZEA MIGRACJI:
TOŻSAMOŚĆ MIGRANTÓW I REALIZACJA MISJI MUZEUM
– PRZYPADKI POLSKIE I KANADYJSKIE

Wyrażanie i kształtowanie tożsamości migrantów w trakcie działań wynikających z realizacji misji muzeów migracji zostało ukazane na przykładzie aktywności Muzeum Emigracji w Gdyni oraz Ogniwo Polish Museum w Winnipeg, Manitoba, w Kanadzie. Muzea migracji są znakomitym przykładem aktywnego reagowania na potrzeby otoczenia muzeum i odpowiedzialności za kształtowanie tego otoczenia, na co zwrócono uwagę w Rezolucji ICOM (Mediolan 2016). Szczególnie interesująca jest działalność tych muzeów, które zwracają się jednocześnie do „swojej” diaspory, jak i imigrantów przybywających do kraju, w którym działają – w artykule zostało to zaprezentowane na przykładzie Muzeum Emigracji w Gdyni. Instytucje takie adresują bardzo precyzyjne działania do lokalnych społeczności miast, w których funkcjonują, a równocześnie realizują projekty wspólnie z diasporą rozsianą po całym świecie. W ten sposób wpływają i wyrażają tożsamość miejsca, lokalnej społeczności, imigrantów i diaspory w globalnym sensie.

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Meltem Yaşdağ

REKONSTRUKCJA KRAJOBRAZU KULTUROWEGO POPRZEZ TOŻSAMOŚĆ EMIGRANTA:
MUZEA WYMIANY LUDNOŚCI W TURCJI

Protokół dodatkowy do traktatów z Lozanny kończących wojnę grecko-turecką, podpisany 30 stycznia 1923 r. narzucił obu państwom przymusową wymianę ludności: z Grecji wysiedlono ludność turecką oraz muzułmanów, z Turcji natomiast wysiedlono niemal wszystkich prawosławnych. W rezultacie prawie dwa miliony osób zostało zmuszonych do opuszczenia ziemi, którą nazywało „ojczyzną”. Dziś wiele osad będących świadkami tego procesu wymiany podlega ochronie jako tureckie dziedzictwo kulturowe. Misja ochrony tego dziedzictwa jest realizowana przez lokalne muzea bądź domy wymiany ludności, obsługiwane przez stowarzyszenia wymiany i gminy. Wśród siedmiu muzeów wymiany ludności znajdują się: İzmir Migration and Population Exchange Memory House, İstanbul Tuzla City and Population Exchange House oraz Alaçam Population Exchange Museum. To ważne instytucje, które opisują doświadczenia i wspomnienia wysiedlenia poprzez eksponaty etnograficzne, efemeryda i historię mówioną. W ramach ochrony dziedzictwa kulturowego należącego do imigrantów muzea te opisują fakty historyczne w kontekście pamięci społecznej i miejskiej. Celem niniejszego raportu jest odniesienie się do tej sfery dziedzictwa kulturowego, w której muzeum jest również częścią społeczności lokalnej, oraz wyjaśnienie, jak doświadczyć „żywego muzeum imigracji”, któremu towarzyszą obrazy i związane z nimi dokumenty historyczne. Przykłady Tuzla, Alaçam i İzmir przekazują opowiadane i przypominane informacje na temat przeszłości oraz niepisane informacje o przeszłości. Artykuł pokazuje, jak odbudowywać zapomnianą tożsamość, jak doświadczyć „żywego muzeum regionu”, wizji i związanych z nimi dokumentów historycznych.

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Michał Malinowski

MUZEUM – ISKRA, KTÓRA MOŻE ROZPALIĆ WIELKI PŁOMIEŃ

Reprezentacje muzealne dostarczają publiczności narzędzi i szablonów do zrozumienia otaczającego je świata i odbieranych informacji. Ten aspekt oferty muzealnej można uznać za szczególnie cenny w świecie zachodniej cywilizacji, w którym uporczywy, wszechobecny i znaczący wpływ środków masowego przekazu i mediów społecznościowych ma negatywny wpływ na nasze postrzeganie rzeczywistości, i w którym jesteśmy świadkami znacznego spadku zadowolenia z życia u wielu osób. Jak nigdy dotąd potrzebujemy narzędzi poznawczych, aby zapanować nad napływem informacji, a rolą muzeów bardziej niż kiedykolwiek wcześniej powinno być ożywienie społeczności pozytywną iskrą i dostarczanie im istotnych doświadczeń.

Niniejszy artykuł bada, w jaki sposób historie przekazują wiedzę narracyjną odgrywającą istotną rolę w rozwoju wyobraźni i budowaniu indywidualnego postrzegania świata i innych ludzi. Oferuje przykłady jedynych w swoim rodzaju, pionierskich działań Muzeum Opowiadaczy Historii w zakresie zachowania i rozwoju dziedzictwa opowiadania oraz wykorzystania mądrości wielokulturowej. Omawia sposoby, w jakie muzea mogą wykorzystywać różne formy opowiadania historii i praktycznego zdobywania wiedzy, aby przyczynić się do tworzenia znaczeń i rozwijania moralności, poczucia wartości i tożsamości wśród publiczności. Artykuł wnioskuje, że struktury narracyjne, jakie muzea budują wokół eksponatów i działań pozwalają na szersze zrozumienie kulturowe i debaty w społeczeństwie. Zaprasza muzea do zaangażowania się w procesy uzdrawiania i narzucania naszemu spojrzeniu na rzeczywistość „porządku poznawczego”, aby przywrócić poczucie satysfakcji i więzi z innymi, tym samym zachęcając odwiedzających do tego, aby stali się lepszymi obywatelami, zarówno w swoich lokalnych społecznościach, jak i naszej „globalnej wiosce”.

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Guido Morpurgo

OPOWIEŚĆ O DWÓCH MIASTACH.
ZAPROJEKTOWANIE „ROZSZERZONEGO MUZEUM TERAŹNIEJSZOŚCI”
Z DAWNYMI FRAGMENTAMI GETTA WARSZAWSKIEGO:
PROJEKT WALICÓW

W centrum Warszawy, zwłaszcza na Woli, zachowała się cześć budynków dawnego getta żydowskiego założonego przez Niemców w czasie okupacji. Te ostatnie fragmenty ocalałe z powstań z lat 1943–1944 są częścią dawnego miasta i świadkami oporu przed Zagładą zaginionej dziś Warszawy. Są głosami wspólnej pamięci, które z powodu ciągłych przemian urbanistycznych narażone są na ostateczne usunięcie zarówno z tkanki miasta, jak i europejskiej świadomości zbiorowej. Znaleziska te stanowią niezwykły materiał do budowy współczesnego dialogu i współżycia obywatelskiego. Jednocześnie są świadome przeszłości, dziedzictwa, które może być chronione i poddane renowacji w ramach odpowiedzialnego projektu architektoniczno-urbanistycznego: rozszerzonego muzeum teraźniejszości, które potrafiłoby na nowo połączyć dwa miasta: współczesną stolicę w Warszawą dawną, zniszczoną.

Trzy zrujnowane budynki, które przetrwały na ulicy Waliców, polaryzują wymiar pamięci i nieprzenikliwość dokumentów historii, przede wszystkim mają wartość jako ostrzeżenie dla współczesnej Europy przed budowaniem nowych „gett” w postaci nowych granic, ogrodzeń czy rozmaitych form apartheidu. Wraz z odnowieniem znalezisk archeologicznych na ulicy Waliców, politechnika w Mediolanie zainicjowała warsztaty projektowania architektonicznego we współpracy z Politechniką Warszawską, pod patronatem różnych instytucji europejskich, w tym ICOM.

Projekt Waliców – ucieleśniający ideę „rozszerzonego muzeum” promowaną przez konferencję ICOM 2017 – może stać się pierwszą jednostką potencjalnego systemu obiektów zabytkowych poświęconych formacji młodzieży, tematem do debaty w ramach działalności społeczno-kulturalnej i sztuki, archipelagiem stanowisk archeologicznych, jakie mają zostać reaktywowane poprzez projekt muzealno-architektoniczny. W tym sensie ulica Waliców stanowi studium przypadku z oczywistym elementem odpowiedzialności muzeum za krajobraz miejski i tożsamość Warszawy oraz, bardziej ogólnie, miasta europejskiego.

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Jonathan Zisook

W STRONĘ ANALIZY SOCJOLOGICZNEJ
MUZEUM SYNAGOGI WE WSPÓŁCZESNEJ POLSCE

Materialne pozostałości po społeczności żydowskiej, w tym cmentarze, synagogi, szkoły oraz innego rodzaju mienie gmin żydowskich są wszechobecne w całej Polsce. Sposób zapamiętania, zapominania, zaniedbania, zachowywania i odnawiania tych pozostałości jest przedmiotem powiększającej się literatury studiów polsko-żydowskich. Niniejszy artykuł analizuje Muzeum Synagogi jako typologiczną kategorię żydowskiej kultury materialnej, poprzez którą próbuje odtworzyć i wyobrazić sobie żydowską przeszłość jako projekt budowania tożsamości w teraźniejszości i dla przyszłości Polski. Muzeum Synagogi można odróżnić od co najmniej czterech innych kategorii pozostałości po synagogach w Polsce, takich jak: (1) ruiny, (2) miejsca ponownego poświęcenia, (3) miejsca użytku komercyjnego, (4) miejsca zapomniane i nieoznakowane. Opierając się na jakościowej, socjologicznej pracy terenowej, artykuł przedstawia studium przypadku w mieście Chmielnik i wnioskuje, że miasto i jego muzeum synagogalne składają się na to, co historyk Diana Pinto określa mianem „przestrzeni żydowskiej”, socjolog Y. Michal Bodemann nazywa „środowiskiem judaistycznym”, a dziennikarka i badaczka Ruth Ellen Gruber klasyfikuje jako „wirtualnie żydowskie”. Natomiast, jak argumentuje autor, Muzeum Synagogi może odegrać istotną rolę w przywróceniu żydowskiej pamięci i budowaniu nowych tożsamości we współczesnej Polsce.

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Zdeněk Novák

MUZEUM KRAJOBRAZOWE HODOWLI I SZKOLENIA KONI
DO CELÓW CEREMONIALNYCH
W KLADRUBACH NAD ŁABĄ W CZECHACH

Aktualnie Lista światowego dziedzictwa UNESCO zawiera 102 obiekty wpisane jako krajobrazy kulturowe. Wszystkie one świadczą o ludzkich relacjach z ziemią, o historii cywilizacji i rozwoju technologii lub o osiągnięciach dawnych władców (królów i książąt). Najwcześniej dodane krajobrazy kulturowe (Sintra w Portugalii, Lednice-Valtice Cultural Landscape Complex w Republice Czeskiej) były przykładami jasno zdefiniowanych krajobrazów zaprojektowanych i stworzonych celowo przez człowieka, których późniejszym efektem są organicznie wykształcone krajobrazy, ilustrujące tradycyjny sposób uprawiania roli (zarówno istniejące, jak i wygasłe) oraz związany z tym krajobraz kulturowy.

Kompleks Lednice-Valtice został wpisany na Listę UNESCO w 1996 r. Jest to rozległy obszar (234 km²) ilustrujący historię postępującego rolnictwa, leśnictwa, hodowli ryb i zwierząt, a także ambicje książęcego domu Liechtensteinu. Podstawowy układ terenu tworzą aleje obsadzone drzewami w XVII w. w celu podkreślenia znaczenia zamku Valtice jako rezydencji książęcej. Kompleks jest unikalnym ferme ornée, którego główną cechą jest ogród angielsko-chiński ze znaczącym wkładem egzotycznych drzew odnoszących się do skali krajobrazu.

Kompleks służący hodowli i szkoleniu koni powozowych w Kladrubach nad Labem, rozwijany od XV w., wnosi nową jakość do zbioru krajobrazów kulturowych znajdujących się na liście. W miarę zmian w środowisku miejskim dworu cesarskiego w Wiedniu, w stolicy imperium wybudowano bezpośrednie aleje łączące Hofburg z parkami Prater i Augarten i Schönbrunn z Laxenburgiem i Favoriten, co umożliwiło ceremonie dworskie z ośmiokonnymi powozami dla cesarza i hierarchiczną aranżacją powozów członków dworu. Podobne zmiany miały również wpływ na krajobraz w Kladrubach nad Labem. Na początku XIX w. zasady ogrodu w stylu francuskim (André Le Nôtre) wpłynęły na układ alejek (patte d’oie, étoile). Pastwiska, pola i przyległy las zostały zaprojektowane tak, aby zaspokoić potrzeby stada.

Na początku XX w., pod wpływem zasad stosowanych w najlepszych środkowoeuropejskich ogrodach krajobrazowych, Anton Umlauft stworzył arcydzieło sztuki ogrodowej, tworząc iluzje przestrzenne, które obecnie można znaleźć tylko w Parku Průhonice i w kompleksie Lednice-Valtice.

Krajobraz kompleksu w Kladrubach jest unikatowym ferme ornée, od wieków służącym temu samemu celowi i ciągle doskonalonym. Jego niezwykłą, uniwersalną wartość wykazało porównawcze badanie krajobrazów stadnin w Hiszpanii, Francji, Włoszech, Niemczech, Austrii, na Węgrzech i w Polsce.

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Lisa Moran

DZIEDZICTWO I TRANSFORMACJA
A IRLANDZKIE MUZEUM SZTUKI NOWOCZESNEJ

Irlandzkie Muzeum Sztuki Nowoczesnej zostało otwarte w 1991 r., krótko po zakończeniu „zimnej wojny” i na siedem lat przed zawarciem tzw. umowy wielkopiątkowej. Wystawa inauguracyjna „Inheritance and Transformation” (Dziedzictwo i Transformacja) z 1991 r., której kuratorem był pierwszy dyrektor IMMA, Declan McGonagle, przedstawiła manifest instytucji, twierdząc, że pod koniec XX w. „bycie lokalnym oznacza bycie międzynarodowym, a bycie na marginesie (z powodu którego Irlandia ucierpiała w najnowszej historii) ma tak naprawdę oznaczać bycie w centrum”.

Od czterdziestu lat IMMA odgrywa ważną rolę w odzwierciedlaniu i wyrażaniu zmieniającej się społecznej, kulturowej i politycznej tożsamości Irlandii, co przejawia się w jego wystawach i zbiorach. W niniejszym artykule zastanowię się, jak rozwinął się ten manifest założycielski, skupiając się na wielu kluczowych artystach i dziełach sztuki, w szczególności na pracach Williego Doherty’ego, Mirosława Bałki, Emily Jacir i Shane’a Cullena. Omówię też rolę muzeum w odzwierciedlaniu zmieniającej się tożsamości Irlandii na przestrzeni kilkudziesięciu lat oraz muzeum jako miejsca renegocjacji tożsamości w ramach relacji między centrum a peryferiami, Północą a Południem, Irlandią a Wielką Brytanią oraz Irlandią a Europą.

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Markéta Jonášová

„DRUGIE CENTRUM POMPIDOU”.
KOLEKCJA SZTUKI NOWOCZESNEJ I WSPÓŁCZESNEJ
W GALERII NARODOWEJ W PRADZE
W ŚWIETLE POSTKOMUNISTYCZNEJ TRANSFORMACJI
CZESKIEJ TOŻSAMOŚCI

Teoria krytyczna opracowana przez zwolenników nowego muzealnictwa wyraźnie pokazała, że muzea nie są instytucjami neutralnymi, które prezentują wyłącznie obiekty o znaczeniu naukowym. Instytucjonalny aparat muzeum – jego zbiory, wystawa, architektura i strategie interpretacyjne – zależą od zakresu możliwości przyznanego przez patronów, darczyńców, monarchę czy władze państwa. Czerpiąc z nowej muzeologii, artykuł analizuje otwarcie stałej ekspozycji kolekcji sztuki nowoczesnej i współczesnej w Czeskiej Galerii Narodowej w 1995 r. Zaledwie kilka lat po odzyskaniu niepodległości i wyzwoleniu spod oficjalnej kontroli radzieckiej czeska scena kulturalna świętowała otwarcie odnowionego Pałacu Wystaw, nowej galerii poświęconej prezentacji sztuki współczesnej i nowoczesnej. Analizując zasady ekspozycji sztuki w Pałacu Wystaw w latach 90. XX w., artykuł omawia powody, dla których Czeska Galeria Narodowa podkreślała kulturę zdefiniowaną etnicznie, jednocześnie pielęgnując szczególną tożsamość kulturową zgodnie z postsowieckim dyskursem politycznym.

Przewaga etnicznie zdefiniowanej kultury w Czeskiej Galerii Narodowej, która przejawia się przede wszystkim w nowej stałej ekspozycji pt. „Czeska sztuka współczesna w latach 1900–1960”, jest kwestionowana w oparciu zarówno o historię kolekcji, jak i krytyczne teorie Maurizio Virolego, Anthony’ego D. Smitha i Miroslava Hrocha dotyczące kształtowania się i wpływów nacjonalizmu. O ile nacisk na wyraźnie „czeską” tradycję artystyczną zawsze dominował działania Galerii Nowoczesnej, a później Narodowej, o tyle narracja historyczna w ramach tej kategorii zmieniała się wraz z politycznym porządkiem państwa. Celem badań jest wykazanie, że ekspozycja kolekcji w 1995 r. była zorganizowana niemal wyłącznie w odniesieniu do historycznego kanonu sztuki zachodniej, tłumiąc refleksję nad oficjalną rolą sztuki w czasach Związku Radzieckiego. Polityczne usytuowanie takiego podejścia interpretacyjnego poprowadzono na podstawie prac Borysa Budena i Miroslava Holego na temat kształtowania się postkomunistycznej tożsamości kulturowej. Zrozumienie znaczenia społecznego i politycznego Czeskiej Galerii Narodowej na przestrzeni czasu, a w szczególności po rewolucjach demokratycznych w 1989 r., pozwala nam zadać pytanie o jej rolę w dniu dzisiejszym. Zamiast być kształtowaną przez oficjalną politykę kulturalno-polityczną państwa, galeria powinna odzwierciedlać mnogość pozycji i tradycji kulturowych istniejących w kulturze lokalnej. W związku z tym wniosek z artykułu stanowi spekulacyjną propozycję przyszłego rozwoju tej wybitnej instytucji artystycznej.

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Maria Anna Potocka

GENEZA I STRATEGIE KOLEKCJI
MUZEUM SZTUKI WSPÓŁCZESNEJ W KRAKOWIE MOCAK.
KONTEKST MIASTA I HISTORII

W programie Muzeum Sztuki Współczesnej w Krakowie MOCAK sztuka jest traktowana jako narzędzie społeczne i krytyczne, jako zaproszenie do debaty na temat problemów publicznych. Ten punkt widzenia ujawnia się na wystawach, w publikacjach i projektach. A rolą instytucji jest pośredniczenie pomiędzy artystami a publicznością. Duże instytucje publiczne nie są dla artystów – służą interesowi publicznemu. Naszym obowiązkiem jest uczynić sztukę bardziej dostępną i zrozumiałą dla widzów. Jesteśmy tutaj, aby sztukę wyjaśnić.

Ważny jest dla nas także Kraków. Miasto zdobyło pozycję kulturalnej stolicy Polski. A my jesteśmy tutaj, aby uzupełnić spektrum kultury – od XIX do XXI w. Dlatego manifestacja kultury jako pola życia i działania jest kolejnym głównym problemem. Politykę muzeum kształtuje także budynek i dzielnica, w których się znajdujemy. Nasza publiczność – zwłaszcza międzynarodowa – oczekuje nawiązań do fabryki Shindlera i otaczającego nas kontekstu historycznego, który często pojawia się w naszym programie.

Szczególny nacisk kładziemy na Holokaust, który w istotny sposób determinuje naszą działalność. Do tematu podchodzimy nie tylko z historycznego, ale także moralnego i etycznego punktu widzenia. Podzielamy przekonanie, że sztuka i kultura są teraz najważniejszymi polami interpretacji Holokaustu i służą jako ostrzeżenie.

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Jindřich Ondruš

WOŁOSKIE MUZEUM PLENEROWE A LOKALNY ROZWÓJ.
GOSPODARCZE WPŁYWY WOŁOSKIEGO MUZEUM PLENEROWEGO
W ROŽNOVIE POD RADHOŠTĚM

Wołoskie Muzeum Plenerowe jest największą tego typu instytucją w Czechach, służącą jako centrum metodologiczne dla innych muzeów na wolnym powietrzu, podlegających Ministerstwu Kultury Republiki Czeskiej. Ponad dziewięćdziesięcioletnia historia muzeum sprawiła, że stało się ono jedną z wiodących atrakcji turystycznych w regionie i uznaną instytucją badawczą, której roczna frekwencja wynosi około 300 000 zwiedzających.

Tworząc swoją średnioterminową strategię, Wołoskie Muzeum Plenerowe stara się być ważnym filarem postępu w zakresie dziedzictwa kulturowego i zrównoważonego rozwoju. Systematycznie pracuje nad optymalnym dostosowaniem współpracy z ważnymi partnerami i angażuje się w pomiar wpływu swoich działań na rozwój lokalny. W niniejszym studium przedstawiam, w jaki sposób muzeum dąży do stymulowania procesów gospodarczych, zwłaszcza w odniesieniu do rozwoju turystyki i wspierania różnorodności kulturowej oraz wzmacniania tożsamości lokalnej i regionalnej.

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Silvia Colombo

„SPONTANICZNE MUZEA” W PÓŁNOCNEJ SZWECJI:
NARRACJE KULTUROWE W NORRBOTTEN

Niniejszy artykuł opisuje badanie poświęcone „popularnej stronie” systemu muzealnego w północnej Szwecji, a dokładniej w hrabstwie Norrbotten. W tym celu teoretyczne wprowadzenie wyjaśnia, w jaki sposób słowo „spontaniczny” może być użyte w odniesieniu do pola kultury. Następnie, aby wyjaśnić i zrozumieć dlaczego ludzie odczuwają potrzebę zbierania (zwykłych przedmiotów, jak również i dzieł sztuki itp.), przedstawiam teorie semiologiczne i estetyczne. W ramach poparcia tych teorii prezentuję praktyczne przykłady, takie jak „The Uncomfortable” (Niewygodne), wirtualna kolekcja modeli 3D zaprojektowana przez architekt Katerinę Kamprani czy „Museum of Innocence” (Muzeum Niewinności) w Stambule, założone przez Orhana Pamuka. Następnie opisuję hrabstwo Norrbotten – jego cechy terytorialne, kulturowe oraz kontekst muzealny. W regionie, oprócz oficjalnych instytucji, znajduje się spójna sieć „spontanicznych muzeów”, a mianowicie „folklorystycznych i popularnych” obiektów wystawienniczych, które można określić jako „nieplanowane” lub „spontaniczne”, takich jak Patinamuseet w Boden, Trakor Museum w Överkalix, Myggmuseet w Gällivare. To pierwsze, wstępne badanie będzie próbą zidentyfikowania (potencjalnych) podobnych i wspólnych wartości lokalnej sceny muzealnej, określenia narracji przekazywanych przez te wystawy oraz zrozumienia praktyk stosowanych przez te miejsca. Wyłaniająca się tożsamość tego swoistego „podsystemu muzealnego” mogłaby pomóc w opracowaniu bardziej świadomego profilu kulturowego regionu, powiązanego z jego historią i unikalnym dziedzictwem kulturowym.

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Beata Nessel-Łukasik

Robert Supeł

PRZED OTWARCIEM.
MUZEUM A RELACJE Z JEGO OTOCZENIEM

Józef Piłsudski to jedna z najważniejszych postaci polskiej historii – budowniczy polskiej niepodległości, pierwszy Marszałek odrodzonej Rzeczypospolitej i Wódz Naczelny zwycięskiej armii broniącej Europy Zachodniej przed bolszewicką Rosją w 1920 r. Muzeum poświęcone jego życiu i działalności powstaje w Sulejówku pod Warszawą, w miejscu, gdzie zachował się dworek „Milusin” – dom rodziny Piłsudskich w Sulejówku – dar żołnierzy dla ich wodza.

Budowa muzeum to bardzo czasochłonny i wielowymiarowy proces. Realizacja inwestycji na tak dużą skalę w niewielkiej miejscowości trwa bardzo długo i wymaga wyjątkowej wrażliwości na najbliższe otoczenie muzeum. Dlatego już na etapie projektowania muzeum, rewitalizacji zabytków i budowania nowego budynku z wystawą stałą, zespół Muzeum Józefa Piłsudskiego w Sulejówku starał się działać w taki sposób, żeby relacje między muzeum, mieszkańcami i władzami miasta były obszarami rzeczywistej współpracy i dialogu. Nie zawsze udało się osiągnąć ten cel. Wydłużający się okres budowy muzeum i związanych z tym szereg niedogodności dla bezpośrednich sąsiadów oraz władz miasta spowodował, że często oczekiwania społeczności lokalnej nie zostały w pełni spełnione. Niejednokrotnie mieszkańcy Sulejówka nie tylko nie otrzymywali informacji o stanie zaawansowania prac czy ofercie instytucji, ale wręcz czuli się pominięci w procesie budowania muzeum, którego otwarcie miało przecież zwieńczyć ich wieloletnie wysiłki na rzecz uhonorowania najsłynniejszego mieszkańca ich miasta.

Z tego względu od 2013 r. zespół muzeum zdecydował się rozpocząć działania na rzecz poznania bliżej otoczenia muzeum oraz stworzenia przestrzeni do włączania społeczności lokalnej w proces współtworzenia tej instytucji. W tym celu przez kilka lat były prowadzone zarówno konsultacje społeczne wśród mieszkańców Sulejówka jak również wdrażane programy umożliwiające podjęcie współpracy z różnymi środowiskami. Każde z tych działań, badania społeczne czy różnego rodzaju projekty o charakterze partycypacyjnym pozwoliły zespołowi muzeum wyjść poza teren siedziby i umożliwiły poruszanie się w przestrzeni społecznej wokół muzeum. Dzięki temu udało się nie tylko zebrać wiedzę na temat potrzeb i oczekiwań społeczności lokalnej, lecz również – poprzez konkretne działania – stworzyć obszar wspólnych inicjatyw, w których realizację mogli zaangażować się także sąsiedzi muzeum. Tak powstał kilkuletni cykl letnich warsztatów twórczych, program Archiwum Społecznego Sulejówka realizowany razem z Miejską Biblioteką Publiczną i Towarzystwem Przyjaciół Sulejówka oraz wiele innych działań pozwalających włączyć mieszkańców w proces współtworzenia programu muzeum. Obecnie każdy z tych projektów składa się na fundament rozwijania programów lokalnych i poszerzania środowiska, jakie wykształciło się wokół muzeum i stanowi krąg ambasadorów oraz cennych współpracowników instytucji wspierających zespół w dziele budowania przestrzeni dla lokalnej społeczności za progiem muzeum.

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Jan Godłowski

MUZEUM ŻUP KRAKOWSKICH W WIELICZCE
JAKO AKTYWNY UCZESTNIK BUDOWANIA
WSPÓLNOTY DZIEDZICTWA GÓRNICZEGO

W ostatnich latach Muzeum Żup Krakowskich w Wieliczce podjęło wyzwanie zbudowania wspólnoty historycznych ośrodków górniczych, zarówno lokalnych, jak i międzynarodowych. Wielickie Muzeum ma swoją siedzibę w Zamku Żupnym, który dawniej był centrum administracyjnym historycznego przedsiębiorstwa żupnego obejmującego kopalnie w Wieliczce i Bochni. Obecnie zarówno obie kopalnie, jak i zamek są historycznymi zabytkami i wspólnie tworzą seryjny wpis na Listę światowego dziedzictwa UNESCO. Każdy z tych obiektów jest zarządzany przez niezależny podmiot, ale to Muzeum przewodzi w reprezentacji całego kompleksu pod nazwą „Wieliczka and Bochnia Royal Salt Mines”.

Warto podkreślić, że Muzeum Żup Krakowskich jest instytucją kultury, a obie kopalnie są przedsiębiorstwami komercyjnymi. Przykładem próby stworzenia wspólnej polityki jest przygotowanie i koordynacja prac związanych z udziałem naszego wpisu na listę UNESCO – „Wieliczka and Bochnia Royal Salt Mines” – w nowym projekcie UNESCO i „National Geographic”, wspieranym przez Unię Europejską: „World Heritage Journeys in Europe – Underground Europe”.

Muzeum jest również organizatorem międzynarodowej konferencji poświęconej muzeom górnictwa podziemnego i szlakom turystycznym i zaprosiło obie kopalnie do współpracy w charakterze współorganizatorów. Głównym celem konferencji jest zainicjowanie procesu budowy platformy wymiany doświadczeń w zarządzaniu nieczynnymi już obiektami górniczymi, jakie warto objąć ochroną i udostępniać zwiedzającym. Mamy nadzieję, że działania te posłużą również budowie reprezentacji środowiska zajmującego się w praktyce ochroną dziedzictwa przemysłowego, a także przygotowaniu katalogu najlepszych praktyk w zakresie ochrony i zarządzania tymi bardzo złożonymi i kosztownymi obiektami.

Dzięki staraniom pracowników Muzeum Żup Krakowskich w Wieliczce przejęło w 2017 r. prawa konserwatorskie do historycznych wyrobisk w kopalniach soli w Wieliczce i Bochni, zarządzanych przez niezależne podmioty gospodarcze. Obecnie dyrektor muzeum w Wieliczce pełni funkcje kontrolne, dbając o zachowanie autentyczności obiektów i zrównoważony rozwój ich funkcji turystycznych.

CONTRIBUTORS

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Museums and Identities Contributors

Lubomír Anděl – curator at the Technical Museum in Brno (since 2015), and treasurer of ICOM Czech Republic (since 2015); specialises in political and economy history of the 20th century and in optical technologies; in 2007 joined ICOM as an individual member; in 2002–15 deputy director of the Vysociny Pelhrimov Museum; author of the new permanent exhibition ‘Optical Technologies’ 2015–16; and author of many exhibitions about the political history of 20th-century Czechoslovakia, team leader of ‘Porta Culturae’ and ‘Museums and Galleries on-line” projects in 2009–14.

Magdalena Blackmore – instructor of Polish language and culture at the University of Manitoba, Canada; her research interests are Canadian Immigration, Poles in Manitoba, and oral history; she has conducted two oral history projects documenting the experiences of Polish immigrants in Manitoba; since 2017, she is president of the Ogniwo Polish Museum Society Inc.

Silvia Colombo – art historian and museum professional, she holds a PhD in Architectural Heritage at Politecnico di Milano; after she concluded a collaboration with the University of Manchester as project consultant, she started working at Norrbottens Museum in Luleå (Northern Sweden). Freelance editor and art critic, she writes for many publishing houses and art journals; her main research interests focus on contemporary art and politics, history, memory and museum studies.

Cristina Da Milano – president of ECCOM, research fellow in the field of museum education and communication, with specific regard to culture as a means of social integration, the field on which she has published several papers; lecturer in many post-graduate and master’s courses; holder of a degree in Archaeology (University of Rome), diploma in Fine and Decorative Arts from Antiquity to 1450 (Royal Society of Arts, London); MA in Museum Studies (University of Leicester); MA in Technological Instruments for the Economic Evaluation of Cultural and Environmental Heritage (University of Ferrara); she is a member of the board of directors of Culture Action Europe and Teatro di Roma.

Dorota Folga-Januszewska – an art historian, critic and museologist; member of SAREC ICOM and AICA, deputy director of the Museum of King Jan III’s Palace at Wilanów. She worked at the National Museum in Warsaw from 1979 to 2008, first as an assistant and finally as its director. Professor at the Academy of Fine Arts in Warsaw. Founder and creator of museum studies at the Wyszynski University in Warsaw, and director of the Museology Institute (2008–12). Author of over 300 publications, curator and author of over 50 exhibitions in Poland and abroad.

Jasna Gaburová – graduate of Ethnography and Folkloristics at the Department of Philosophy, Comenius University in Bratislava, Slovakia. She has served as a curator of ethnographic collections at the Slovak National Museum – Museum of History in Bratislava. Former director of the Folk Arts and Crafts Museum, she is one of the founding members of ICOM Slovakia, secretary of the national board 2015–18, president of ICOM Slovakia since 2018.

Jan Godłowski – director of the Cracow Saltworks Museum in Wieliczka (since 2016), and Monument Conservator of the Cracow Saltworks (since 2017), covering both the historic mines at Wieliczka and Bochnia; art historian and graduate of the Jagiellonian University, with many years of experience in archaeology; experienced manager, specialising, in the past, in business restructuring; member of the boards of listed companies.

Constanze Itzel – director of the House of European History, where she previously worked as curator and advisor; former curator at the Badisches Landesmuseum Karlsruhe, research assistant at the University of Heidelberg, research and committee administrator for the Committee on Culture and Education of the European Parliament. Holds a PhD for her thesis on the impact of the image debate on fifteenth-century paintings; author of numerous publications on cultural history and EU cultural and educational policies.

Markéta Jonášová – completed her MRes in Exhibition Studies at Central Saint Martins, University of the Arts London, and MA in Arts and Heritage at Maastricht University. As an independent researcher and art critic, she regularly publishes articles on contemporary art and museology; participated in international seminars at Tate Modern and National Museum in Krakow and currently works as a curator of the etc.gallery in Prague.

Elke Kellner – received an MA in Art History and also studied Archaeology at the University of Vienna and Yale University; since 2014 she is managing director of ICOM Austria; she initiated the series of “ICOM Palmyra Talks” to support the fight against looting and illicit trafficking of cultural goods. Since 2016 she has been lecturing at the Master-Course “Cultural Heritage” at the Danube University in Krems, Austria. She began her career as an assistant to the director at the MAK – Austrian Museum of Applied Arts/Contemporary Art in Vienna, followed by curatorial projects for the Vienna Art Week and TBA 21 – Thyssen-Bornemisza Art Contemporary. From 2006 to 2013 was working at the ORF – Austrian Broadcasting Corporation / Radio Ö1, since 2011 – as head of the event-department and at the same time as journalist at the Radio Ö1 Science Department. In 2013 Kellner worked as a producer at ORF III (Austrian Broadcasting Corporation /Arts & Science Television Program).

Robert Kotowski – director of the National Museum in Kielce, assistant professor at the Department for the Study of Cultural Heritage Institutions at the Faculty of Journalism, Information and Book Studies, University of Warsaw; his scholarly interests focus on cultural heritage, and social history of the 20th century, especially the interwar period, as well as museum and modern management systems of museum institutions; author of many scholarly publications on history and social and management issues, and the author of a book about one of the most valuable objects of the National Museum in Kielce, a portrait of a Girls in a red dress by Józef Pankiewicz (Dziewczynka z obrazu. Historia życia Józi Oderfeldówny, Kielce, 2014).

Paweł Kowal – an assistant professor at the Institute of Political Studies at the Polish Academy of Sciences and at Centre for East European Studies, University of Warsaw, post-doctoral fellow at the College of Europe (Natolin); political scientist, historian, columnist, expert on Eastern policy, co-founder of the Warsaw Rising Museum. In 2009–14 member of the European Parliament, Chairman of the UE delegation to EU-Ukraine Parliamentary Commission, and of Foreign Affairs Committee; former member of the National Security Council, Member of the Polish Parliament, Secretary of State at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs; author of numerous publications on the transformation processes in Central Europe; editor-in-chief of Warsaw East European Review and Studia Międzynarodowe (International Studies). Member of the editorial board of the bi-monthly New Eastern Europe and member of the board of the Platform of European Memory and Conscience and the Board of the Jan Nowak-Jeziorański College of Eastern Europe.

Katharina Küster – MA student of Art Theory and Curatorial Studies at the University of Art and Design in Karlsruhe, Germany. She has been involved in different exhibition projects at Badischer Kunstverein Karlsruhe, SBC Gallery, Montreal and Carré d’Art – Musée d’art contemporain, Nîmes. Since 2015 founding member of the project space LAF at Pforzheim, Germany; the collective’s primary curatorial focus is on the perception and transformation of urban spaces.

Martina Lehmannová – director of the Lidice Memorial, president of ICOM Czech Republic. She specialises in arts, design, architecture and history of the 19th and 20th centuries; in 2001–11 worked as curator at Moravian Gallery in Brno, in 2006–11 was responsible for Josef Hoffmann Native House in Brtnice and architect Dušan Jurkovič’s house in Brno; in 2012–14 was curator of the applied art collection at The City of Prague Museum; in 2015–17 worked at the Museum of Decorative Arts in Prague; since 2017 she is the director of the Lidice Memorial. In 2007 she joined ICOM as an individual member; in 2012–14 she was a board member, and since 2015 she has served as the president of ICOM Czech Republic.

Naďa Machková Prajzová – head of the Department of Specialised Strategies of the National Museum of Agriculture; in 2011–17 director of the East Bohemian Museum in Hradec Králové; member of ICOM INTERCOM and cultural and creative sectors, lead expert at the Czech Ministry of Culture. Her field of expertise is the relevance of museums to contemporary society. Graduate of German studies and history at the Palacký University in Olomouc, she earned her PhD in modern economic and social history at Charles University in Prague.

Piotr Majewski – graduate of the Faculty of History at the University of Warsaw (1995), and of the Post-Diploma Museological Studies at the same university (2001); awarded a PhD degree in 2003, and a post-doctoral degree in 2010. In 1995–2009 worked at the Royal Castle in Warsaw; in 2009–2011, he was deputy director of the Cultural Heritage Department of the Ministry of Culture and National Heritage; since 2011 director of the National Institute for Museums and Public Collections and editor-in-chief of the annual Muzealnictwo (Museology); since 2015 – professor at the Cardinal Stefan Wyszynski University in Warsaw.

Michał Malinowski – museologist, imagination engineer and professional storyteller, teacher, writer, artist, and traveller; on his initiative, the Storyteller Museum at Konstancin Jeziorna near Warsaw was established, dedicated to the traditions of oral and intangible heritage; organizer of numerous meetings, workshops and festivals of storytelling; he also conducts ethnographic research in Poland and abroad; co-author of the book Polish Folktales and Folklore for which he received the AESOP Accolade Award from the American Folklore Association; received a UNESCO scholarship for the exhibition devoted to Amadou Hampate Ba, one of the greatest African thinkers and writers of the 20th century; in 2014 appointed to the Council of Intangible Cultural Heritage at the Ministry of Culture; expert in art education at the National Training Centre for Teachers since 2018.

Lisa Moran – curator of Engagement and Learning programmes in the Irish Museum of Modern Art with responsibility for third level and research; projects include ‘Unconscious Objects: a series of conversations on art and psychoanalysis’; ‘Art | Memory | Place’, 2017, in response to Ireland’s decade of centenaries; and the ‘What is_?’. She has BFA from the Cooper Union School of Art, New York, and MA in History of Art from the National College of Art and Design (NCAD), Dublin; and a PhD with NCAD on the artistic responses to memory and difficult pasts in the work of Polish artist Mirosław Bałka; lectures on modern and contemporary art with an emphasis on commemoration, memorialisation and art in public spaces.

Guido Morpurgo – architect PhD, started his research in architecture in 1991, obtaining recognitions with national awards for realized buildings and interior design. In 2000–8 was associate at the Gregotti Associati International (Milan – Shanghai); in 2006 opened Morpurgo de Curtis Architetti Associati, whose works have been internationally published and displayed, the Milan Shoah Memorial – the office’s most eminent project, awarded by the Gold Medal to Italian Architecture – is protected by the Italian Ministry of Culture; he teaches Architecture Design at Politecnico di Milano; author and editor of monographies and essays on architecture and urban design.

Beata Nessel-Łukasik – PhD in sociology, art historian, graduate from Social Science School at Polish Academy of Science, scholar of Ministry of Culture and National Heritage, cooperator of Special Pedagogics Academy, social action specialist in the Museum of Józef Piłsudski in Sulejówek; studies local communities in the context of culture and memory; since 2013 involved in the audience research programme the Museum of Józef Piłsudski in Sulejówek, the integration process based on the place of common memory around a new-built cultural institution and took part in many programmes and educational courses including memory research, oral history, creation of social archives.

Zdeněk Novák – graduate of the Faculty of Horticulture at Mendel University in Brno (1982); in 1983–90 employee of Silva Tarouca Research Institute for Landscape and Ornamental Horticulture, responsible for the conservation of historical gardens, parks and cultural landscape; in 1990–5 at the National Heritage Institute presented the nomination of Lednice-Valtice Cultural Landscape for the UNESCO World Heritage List. At the Czech Ministry of Culture since 1995, he initiated and collaborated on the nominations of the Gardens and Castle at Kroměříž, the Tugendhat Villa in Brno and the Průhonice Park.

Jindřich Ondruš – director of the Wallachian Open Air Museum (since 2012), president of the Czech Association of Open Air Museums (since 2012); started his professional career as an engineer; in 1994–2004 was mayor of the Nový Hrozenkov municipality; in 2004–12 member of the Regional Council and Deputy Governor of the Zlín Region responsible for culture, monument care and tourism; participated in many national and international conferences; in 2017 initiated the discussion about the future of open air museums in the Czech Republic.

Michalina Petelska – assistant professor at the University of Gdańsk, Poland, PhD holder in history; particularly interested in the history of Poland as seen from the outside; author of a monograph on the relationship between the 19th-century’s most eminent Dane, Georg Brandes, and the state of Poland and Poles, Georg Brandes i Polacy (Gdańsk, 2017); specialises also in the theory, didactics, and practice of museology; in 2014–16 worked at the Emigration Museum in Gdynia, where she co-created its first permanent exhibition and the research department; member of the Polish Association of Museum Professionals and the Polish Association for Canadian Studies, corresponding member of the Polish-Skandinavisk Forskningsinstitut in Copenhagen.

Maria Anna Potocka – art critic, curator, director of the MOCAK Museum of Contemporary Art in Krakow; in 2003–7 lecturer at the University of Social Psychology, Warsaw; run contemporary art galleries (Galeria PI, Galeria Pawilon, Galeria Foto-Video, Galeria Potocka); in 2002–10 director of Galeria Bunkier Sztuki; created world collections of contemporary art (donated to MOCAK); member of IKG, AICA, ICOM and SPP; author of many books, including Malarstwo (1995), Rzeźba (2002), Estetyka kontra sztuka (2006), To tylko sztuka (2008), Fotografia (2010), Wypadek polityczny (2010), Nowa estetyka (2016), ans many theoretical and philosophical essays.

Milan Jan Půček – director of the National Museum of Agriculture in Prague, Czech Republic; former director of the regional museum in Moravia; he specialises in issues related to rural development and management in the public sector, and is a lecturer on this subject at the College of Regional Development in Prague, cooperates with the Masaryk University in Brno and Charles University in Prague; senior lecturer in Public Economy and Regional Development. The author and co-author of six scientific monographs and over twenty articles (one study and nine articles deal with museum management).

Antonín Šimčík – deputy director for museology and research at the National Museum of Agriculture in Prague since 2015; in 2009–15 director of the Silesian Museum in Opava; lecturer at the Silesian University in Opava since 1997, teaching courses in museum conservation and restoring; participated in projects dealing with issues related to the protection and presentation of cultural and natural heritage; co-author of two monographs and 15 studies on conservation and restoration of historic heritage, on museology, management and history.

Robert Supeł – graduate of Warsaw University of Technology, since 2014 has worked at the Józef Piłsudski Museum in Sulejówek, most recently as its director; in 2007–14 employee of Polin Museum of the History of Polish Jews and of the Association of the Jewish Historical Institute in Warsaw, where he was responsible for the development of the permanent exhibition; prior to his work at Polin Museum, he was employed by Reuters, where one of his positions was that of managing director for Poland, Czech Republic and Slovakia.

Christopher Whitehead – professor of Museology at the Universities of Newcastle (UK) and Oslo (Norway). He is currently working on political uses of the past and contested histories and heritages, especially where these relate to contemporary social tensions, division and conflict; he has worked on Turkish heritage, museum history and art interpretation, as well as extensive EU-funded research into museums and migration (MeLa project) and European heritage and identity (as CoHERE project co-ordinator).

Meltem Yaşdağ – culture and tourism expert at the Turkish Ministry of Culture and Tourism; holder of MA in History of Architecture, Middle East Technical University, PhD at the Department of Art History, Ankara University; participated in the British Museum’s International Training Programme of Museology and conducted studies at museums in the UK; with post-doctoral research into cultural heritage, museums and postcolonial architecture from the 1923 Turkish-Greek Forced Population Exchange, she is the author of numerous scholarly publications on these subjects, currently is working on a book about the immovable cultural heritage of Sürmeli village, Bafra, Samsun.

Jonathan Zisook – PhD candidate in the Department of Sociology at the Graduate Center of the City University of New York; author of numerous studies published in scholarly journals, including Religious Studies Review and the Journal of Classical Sociology; most recently a Fulbright Scholar in the Faculty of History and the Institute of Jewish Studies at Jagiellonian University in Krakow; MA holder in Modern Jewish History from Yeshiva University, where he also teaches courses in Sociology of Religion and Social Theory.

FOOTNOTES

IDENTITY BUILDS DEVELOPMENT. HOW MUSEUMS STIMULATE REGIONAL CHANGES

[1] However, even in relation to mathematical identities, this concept defines the relationship between functions.

[2] P. Kowal, K. Wolska-Pabian (eds.), Muzeum i zmiana. Losy muzeów narracyjnych, vol. 16 of the ‘Muzeologia’ publishing series, Kraków, and Warszawa: Muzeum Pałacu Króla Jana III w Wilanowie, Muzeum Powstania Warszawskiego, 2019.

[3] See K. Javanaud, ‘A Philosophical Identity Crisis’, Philosophy Now, 97 (July–August 2013).

[4] The number of ‘museums’ considered appropriate is evidenced by the International Council of Museums ICOM’s ongoing project. Prior to its General Conference in Kyoto in September 2019, more than 200 proposals for the definition of a museum submitted by museum workers – members of ICOM – were available on the website until 1 April 2019: https://icom.museum/en/news/the-museum-definition-the-backbone-of-icom/.

[5] This is the subject of the OECD and ICOM, including ICOM Poland, joint project implemented in 2017–2019: Culture and local development. Maximizing the impact. Towards the OECD-ICOM guide for local governments, communities and museums. The International Organization for Economics and Development OECD together with the International Council of Museums ICOM – developed the “Guide” and conducted research which reported on the impact of museums and cultural institutions on the development of the environment, including economic dynamics. On 10 April 2019, at the Museum of King Jan III’s Palace at Wilanów, a seminar devoted to this issue summarised the observations that had been made so far in Poland. Other reports are available at: http://asemus.museum/news/new-oecd-publications-museums-culture-local-development/ (accessed: 3 July 2019).

[6] A. Georgakopoulos, The Mediation Handbook. Theory, Research and Practice, Routledge, 2017.

[7] The sentence: “What would happen if museums put relationships at the centre of their operation?” opens the introduction to the book: J. Byrne, E. Morgan, N. Paynter, A. Sanchez de Serdio, A. Železnik (eds.), The Constituent Museum. Constellations of Knowledge, Politics and Mediation. A Generator of Social Change, Amsterdam: Valiz, 2018, p. 11.

[8] Ibid., p. 9.

[9] On the range of problems of contemporary museology see: F. Mairesse (ed.), New Trends in Museology, Paris: La Documentation française (Musées-Mondes), 2016.

[10] See, among others: K. Lus Arana, ‘Behind the Bilbao Effect. An Overnight Success in 20 Years’, MAS Context, no. 30–31, http://www.mascontext.com/issues/30-31-bilbao/behind-the-bilbao-effect-an-overnight-success-in-20-years/ (accessed: 3 July 2019); and a comprehensive study: L.M. Lus Arana, ‘After effects: le Guggenheim et l’effet Bilbao’, in: L.M. Lus Arana, J.-M. Tobelem, J. Ockman (eds.), Les Bulles de Bilbao. La mutation des musées depuis Frank Gehry, Paris: Editions B2, 2014.

[11] See, among others, the article written on the 20th anniversary of the museum’s opening: J. Morris, ‘The Guggenheim Bilbao, 20 Years Later: How a Museum Transformed a City – and Why the “Bilbao Effect” Has Been Impossible to Replicate’, Artnet, 12 Oct. 2017, https://news.artnet.com/art-world/the-bilbao-effect-20th-anniversary-1111583 (accessed: 1 Feb. 2019).

[12] D. Hyslop, ‘Dziesięciolecie Tate Modern w Londynie – kultura i rewitalizacja miasta’, in: D. Folga--Januszewska, B. Gutowski (eds.), Ekonomia Muzeum. Materiały polsko-brytyjskiej konferencji naukowej, Uniwersytet Kardynała Stefana Wyszyńskiego w Warszawie, 25 listopada 2010, Muzeum Pałac w Wilanowie, 26 listopada 2010, vol. 1 of the ‘Muzeologia’ publishing series, Kraków: Universitas, 2011, p. 27.

[13] Ibid., p. 28.

[14] Ibid., pp. 28–29.

[15] A detailed description of the activity and the programme was published by Tadeusz Dobrowolski, Działalność Muzeum Śląskiego w Katowicach: od chwili założenia Muzeum do końca lutego 1930 r., Katowice: Muzeum Śląskie, 1930.

[16] The problems of the Silesian uprisings and conflicts around the plebiscite have a rich literature on the subject: M. Lis, Powstania śląskie i plebiscyt ze współczesnej perspektywy, PIN, Instytut Śląski w Opolu, Opole, 2015.

[17] Źródła do dziejów Muzeum Śląskiego w Katowicach (do 1939 roku), prep. E. Długajczyk, Katowice: Muzeum Śląskie, 2002.

[18] Materials related to the project can be found in, among others, the Archives of Karol and Bożena Schayer at the Institute of Józef Piłsudski in America, item 7, Studies and notes on the Silesian Museum.

[19] L. Szaraniec, ‘Muzeum Śląskie w Katowicach 1924–2005’, in: B. Szczypka-Gwiazda (ed.), Rozum i rzetelność są wsparciem jedynym: studia z historii sztuki ofiarowane Ewie Chojeckiej, Katowice: Muzeum Śląskie, 2006, pp. 279–95.

[20] See State Archives in Katowice (hereinafter: APK), no. 173/24-25.

[21] APK, no. 173/23.

[22] E. Chojecka, ‘Muzeum Śląskie. Nad wystawą historyczną przeszedł walec i wyrównał’, Gazeta Wyborcza, 9 Aug. 2015, katowice.wyborcza.pl/katowice/1,35055,18513308,museum-slaskie-nad-exhibition-historical-pastedl-walec-i-wyrownal.html (accessed: 3 July 2019).

[23] Cf.: ‘Ile osób pożegnało prezydenta Adamowicza w ECS? Mamy dane’, https://wiadomosci.dziennik.pl/wydarzenia/artykuly/589505,adamowicz-gdansk-ecs-resident-farewell-data.html (accessed: 3 July 2019).

[24] ECS is an institution co-managed and co-financed by the City Council and the Ministry of Culture and National Heritage. See the article: ‘Gdańsk sam dofinansuje ECS. Rusza społeczna zbiórka’, https://www.rp.pl/Polityka/190139852-Gdansk-sam-dofinansuje-ECS-Rusza-spoleczna-zbiorka.html (accessed: 4 July 2019); and on the results of the fundraiser, see: P. Ciszak, ‘Ponad 3 mln zł na Europejskie Centrum Solidarności zebrane. Do skarbówki nie trafi ani złotówka’, https://www.money.pl/podatki/ponad-3-mln-zl-na-europejskie-centrum-solidarnosci-zebrane-do-skarbowki-nie-trafi-ani-zlotowka-6345890822035073a.html (accessed: 4 July 2019).

[25] Historical name of the street was Wiadrownia (German: Eimermacherhof). A fragment of the Old Town, where craftsmen’s workshops producing buckets were established in 1540. During the construction of the museum, many archaeological discoveries were made in the area. The persistence of the name is also an interesting symptom of historical identity, unchanged despite the fact that Gdańsk changed hands from Polish to German in the 19th and 20th centuries.

[26] The first director and creator of its programme, Paweł Machcewicz, describes the history of conflict from his point of view in the book: Muzeum, Kraków: Znak Horyzont – Społeczny Instytut Wydawniczy Znak 2017.

PLANNING A MUSEUM IN ITS SURROUNDINGS, I.E. MUSEUM IN CONTEXT – INTRODUCTORY REFLEXIONS

[1] ICOM Milan 2016: The New Responsibilities of Museums towards Landscapes, .icom-italia.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/ICOMItalia.MuseumInternational.Articolo.AlbertoGarlandini.pdf (accessed: 12 July 2019), p. 174.

DE-BORDERING THE MUSEUM: VOICE, EMPATHY AND ARCHAEOLOGIES OF INEQUALITY

[1] This essay is published as an extended version of a paper originally published by UNESCO Office in Mexico and Ministry of Culture and Tourism of Puebla (2019) Museos sin Fronteras en el Área Circumpacífica (Museums without Borders in the circum-Pacific Region). Mexico City, UNESCO Office in Mexico. It also draws on: the Plural Heritages of Istanbul project toolkits, available online at https://pluralheritages.ncl.ac.uk; research funded by the AHRC (UK) and TUBITAK (Turkey) under the Katip-Çelebi Newton fund (AH/P005810/1); the European Commission-funded Research and Innovation Action CoHERE, Performing and Representing Identities in Europe (grant no. 693289); and on C. Whitehead, and F. Lanz, ‘“Only Connect”: the heritage and emotional politics of showcasing the suffering migrant’, in: M. O’Neill, and G. Hooper (eds.), Connecting Museums: Health, Community, Inclusion, Routledge (forthcoming). See also: Ch. Whitehead, S. Eckersley, M. Daugbjerg, G. Bozoğlu (eds.), Dimensions of Heritage and Memory. Multiple Europes and the Politics of Crisis, Routledge, 2019.

[2] J. Clifford, Routes: Travel and Translation in the Late Twentieth Century, Cambridge Mass., 1997.

[3] W. Brown, Walled States, Waning Sovereignty, 2nd ed.: New York: The MIT Press, 2017.

[4] J.E. Tunbridge, G.A. Ashworth, Dissonant Heritage: the Management of the Past as a Resource in Conflict, London: John Wiley & Sons, 1999.

[5] https://research.ncl.ac.uk/cohere/ (accessed: 12 July 2019); for free resources relating to this, see http://cohere-ca.ncl.ac.uk/#/grid (accessed: 12 July 2019).

[6] L. Smith, Uses of Heritage, New York and London: Routledge, 2006.

[7] https://pluralheritages.ncl.ac.uk/ (accessed: 12 July 2019).

[8] https://whc.unesco.org/en/list/356 (accessed: Dec. 2019); we hope to change the OUV statement to reflect community histories around the site.

[9] https://pluralheritages.ncl.ac.uk/#/research (accessed: 12 July 2019).

[10] A. Amin, ‘Regions unbound: towards a new politics of place’, Geografiska Annaler: series B, Human Geography, 86 (2004), no. 1, pp. 33–44.

[11] W. Brown, Regulating Aversion: Tolerance in the Age of Identity and Empire, Princeton NJ: Princenton University Press, 2006; C. Pedwell, Affective Relations: the Transnational Politics of Empathy, London: Palgrave Macmillan UK, 2014.

[12] M.S. Phillips, ‘On the Advantage and Disadvantage of Sentimental History for Life’, History Workshop Journal, 65 (2008), pp. 49–64, here: 51.

[13] A. Coplan, ‘Understanding Empathy: Its Features and Effects’, in: A. Coplan, P. Goldie (eds.), Empathy: Philosophical and Psychological Perspectives, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011, pp. 3–18.

[14] P. Bloom, Against Empathy: The Case for Rational Compassion, London: Bodley Head, 2017.

[15] Phillips, ‘On the Advantage’, p. 51.

[16] Pedwell, Affective Relations.

[17] See, for instance: C. Whitehead, and F. Lanz, ‘“Only Connect”: the heritage and emotional politics of showcasing the suffering migrant’, in: O’Neill, and Hooper (eds.), Connecting Museums.

MUSEUMS AS SOCIAL LANDSCAPES

[1] Some of the reflections expressed in this paper are included in the following publication: C. Da Milano, M.F. Guida, E. Falchetti, Intercultural Rehearsals, Milano: Editrice Bibliografica, 2019.

[2] Council of Europe, Framework Convention on the Value of Cultural Heritage for Society, 2005, https://www.coe.int/it/web/conventions/full-list/-/conventions/treaty/199 (accessed: 12 July 2019).

[3] See in particular Art. 27 of the Declaration https://www.ohchr.org/EN/UDHR/Documents/UDHR_Translations/eng.pdf (accessed: 12 July 2019).

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid.

[6] UNESCO, Recommendation concerning the protection and promotion of museums and collections, their diversity and their role in society, Paris, 2015, http://musei.beniculturali.it/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/FINAL_RECOMMENDATION_ENG.pdf (accessed: 12 July 2019).

[7] The TEV is based on the need to quantify in monetary terms the benefits attributable to actions for the protection and conservation of cultural and environmental heritage. In reality, many classes of benefits have instead character of intangibility, and it is therefore more appropriate for them to have a form of identification of values different from the monetary one. In this regard, the concept of Social Complex Value has been devised, since it presents the same components as TEV but can be ascribed not only to monetary (quantitative) terms but also to non-monetary (qualitative) ones.

[8] See the monographic issue of the magazine Economia della Cultura, 27 (2017), no. 2, dedicated to culture, health, and wellbeing. It is fair to underline that the judgment on these presumed types of social and community benefits is extremely controversial, especially as regards their success as instruments of regeneration and social cohesion: the greatest problem remains in fact to demonstrate its effectiveness in a clear and unequivocal manner.

[9] The adjective European is used in its cultural sense and not purely geographical.

[10] Historically speaking, in the European world this happened first with the Greeks who conceptualised themselves in opposition to barbarians; then with the Romans who carried the concept of romanitas opposed to those who did not adhere to it; then with the opposition between Christians and pagans; finally, starting from the second half of the fifteenth century, with the comparison between Europeans and inhabitants of the new worlds that were gradually being discovered.

[11] There are also historical, functional and structural analysis of heritage which have not been taken into consideration here and which can in some way be considered as outdated by the post--structural approach.

[12] In the post-structuralist theory, language is not considered as an impersonal system but rather as connected to other systems and, in particular, to subjective processes. This concept of language is summarised in the concept of “discourse”.

[13] R. Barthes, Elements of Semiology, New York: Hill and Wang; Reissue edition, 1977.

[14] A. Wittlin, Museums: In Search of a Usable Future, Cambridge Mass.: The MIT Press, 1970, p. 157.

[15] The important role of ICOM in the reflection on the role of museums at international and national level is evidenced by the rich bibliography available at https://icom.museum/en/activities/research-development/publications/ (accessed: 12 July 2019). In particular, for the purposes of this article the following special issue of the Museum International is worthy of mention: ‘The Role of Museums in a Changing Society’, Museum International, 68 (2016), no. 3–4, pp. 1–175.

[16] A. Walker and C. Walker (eds.), Britain Divided: the Growth of Social Exclusion in the 1980s and 1990s, London: Child Poverty Action Group, 1997.

[17] R. Sandell, ‘Museums as Agents of Social Inclusion’, Museum, Management and Curatorship, 17 (1998), no. 4, pp. 401–18.

[18] https://www.coe.int/t/dg4/intercultural/source/white_paper_final_revised_en.pdf (accessed: 19 Aug. 2019).

[19] F. Matarasso, ‘L’état, c’est nous: arte, sussidi e stato nei regimi democratici’, Economia della Cultura, 4 (2004), pp. 491–9.

[20] The Conference Final Report see: https://unesdoc.unesco.org/ark:/48223/pf0000001486 (accessed: 18 July 2019).

[21] European Commission Directorate-General for Education, Youth, Sport and Culture, Study on Audience Development. How to place audiences at the centre of cultural organisations, 2017: http://engageaudiences.eu/files/2017/04/Final-report-NC-01-16-644-EN-N.pdf (accessed: 13 July 2019).

[22] .eccom.it (accessed: 13 July 2019).

[23] http://online.ibc.regione.emilia-romagna.it/I/libri/pdf/LifelongLearninginMuseums.pdf (accessed: 13 July 2019).

[24] http://online.ibc.regione.emilia-romagna.it/I/libri/pdf/VOCH_Inglese.pdf (accessed: 13 July 2019).

[25] http://online.ibc.regione.emilia-romagna.it/I/libri/pdf/Giovani_Musei.pdf (accessed: 13 July 2019).

[26] http://www.eccom.it/images/stories/handbook/handbook_english.pdf (accessed: 13 July 2019).

[27] http://museummediators.eu/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/Handbook_English_view.pdf (accessed: 13 July 2019).

[28] https://mcpbroker.wordpress.com/about-2/benchmark-2/ (accessed: 13 July 2019).

[29] https://www.maxxi.art/en/events/art-clicks-laboratorio-formativo-e-di-progettazione-interculturale/ (accessed: 13 July 2019).

[30] J. Clifford, ‘Museums as Contact Zones’, in: id., Routes: Travel and Translation in the Late Twentieth Century, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1997, pp. 188–219.

[31] M. Vlachou, ‘Dividing issues and mission-driven activism’, in: R.R. Janes and R. Sandell (eds.), Museum Activism, London: Routledge, 2019, pp. 47–57.

EXTENDING TO EUROPE. THE HOUSE OF EUROPEAN HISTORY IN BRUSSELS

[1] For further reading, see: C. Dupont, and T. Vovk-van Gaal, ‘The House of European History’, in: B. Axelsson, C. Dupont, C. Kesteloot (eds.), Entering the Minefields: The Creation of New History Museums in Europe. Conference Proceedings from EuNaMus, European National Museums: Identity Politics, the Uses of the Past, and the European Citizen, Brussels, 25 January 2012, EuNaMus Report No 9, Linköping: Linköping University Electronic Press, 2012, pp. 43–53, http://www.ep.liu.se/ecp/083/ecp12083.pdf (accessed: 15 July 2019); C. Itzel, T. Vovk-van Gaal, ‘The House of European History project in Brussels’, in: W. Borodziej, J. von Puttkamer (eds.), Europa und sein Osten. Geschichtskulturelle Herausforderungen, München: Oldenbourg Verlag, 2012, pp. 75–80; J. Jareš, ‘The House of European History: In Search of a Common History and its Future’, Cultures of History Forum, 12 Oct. 2017, http://www.cultures-of-history.uni-jena.de/exhibitions/european-union/the-house-of-european-history-in-search-of-a-common-history-and-its-future/ (accessed: 14 July 2019); C. Kesteloot, ‘Exhibiting European History in the Museum: The House of European History’, BMGN – Low Countries Historical Review, 133 (2018), no. 4, pp. 149–61; S. Krankenhagen, ‘Gegründet 2017 als House of European History’, Merkur Zeitschrift, 25 (August 2017), pp. 28–31, https://www.merkur-zeitschrift.de/2017/08/25/gegruendet-2017-als-house-of-european-history-2/ (accessed: 13 July 2019); M. Prutsch, European Historical Memory: Policies, Challenges and Perspectives, Brussels: European Parliament, Policy Department for Structural and Cohesion Policies, European Union, 2014, http://www.europarl.europa.eu/RegData/etudes/STUD/2015/540364/IPOL_STU%282015%29540364_EN.pdf (accessed: 15 July 2019); R. Sīmansons, ‘Europe’s Journey to Modernity: Developing the House of European History in Brussels’, thesis submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy at the University of Leicester, June 2018, https://lra.le.ac.uk/bitstream/2381/43185/1/2018SIMANSONSRSPhD.pdf (accessed: 15 July 2019).

[2] For a summary of previous museum projects visualising Europe, see W. Kaiser, S. Krankenhagen, K. Poehls (eds.), Exhibiting Europe in Museums, Transnational Networks, Collections, Narratives, and Representations, New York, and Oxford: Berghahn Books, 2014.

[3] For an account of the process of creating this international team see C. Itzel, ‘Creating a European museum under the auspices of the European Parliament: A unique venture in an unusual environment’, in: P. Christodoulou, and A. Mork (eds.), Creating the House of European History, Luxembourg: Office of Publications of the European Union, 2018, pp. 47–54.

[4] For a detailed overview of the process of creating the historical narrative, and of the reasoning behind, see A. Mork, ‘The narrative’, in: Christodoulou, and Mork (eds.), Creating the House, pp. 129–221.

[5] This framework was built on the reflections on memory by authors such as Maurice Halbwachs, Pierre Nora, Jan and Aleida Assmann, and Adolph Muschg, see Mork, ‘The narrative’, p. 130.

[6] For a recent summary of diverging definitions, see M. Prutsch, Research for CULT Committee – European Identity, Brussels: European Parliament, Policy. Department for Structural and Cohesion Policies, 2017, http://www.europarl.europa.eu/RegData/etudes/STUD/2017/585921/IPOL_STU(2017)585921_EN.pdf (accessed: 13 July 2019). Cf. also: E. Buettner, ‘What – and who – is “European” in the Postcolonial EU? Inclusions and Exclusions in the European Parliament’s House of European History, BMGN – Low Countries Historical Review, 133 (2018), no. 4, pp. 132–48.

[7] See Mork, ‘The narrative”, p. 131.

[8] See T. Vovk van Gaal, ‘Step by step towards the House of European History’, in: Christodoulou, and Mork (eds.), Creating the House, pp. 112. See also: L. Beyers, ‘Het voorzichtige Huis. Het nieuwe Huis van de Europese Geschiedenis’, BMGN – Low Countries Historical Review, 133 (2018), no. 4, pp. 121–31.

[9] https://historia-europa.ep.eu/en/educators-teachers/classroom-activities (accessed: 13 July 2019).

[10] Resolutions adopted by ICOM’s 31st General Assembly, Resolution No. 1, http://icom.museum/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/ICOMs-Resolutions_2016_Eng.pdf (accessed: 13 July 2019).

[11] E. Deschamps, and P. Perchoc, Le bâtiment Eastman: un joyau du patrimoine bruxellois pour la Maison de l’Histoire européenne, Union Européenne, 2016, http://www.europarl.europa.eu/thinktank/fr/document.html?reference=EPRS_BRI%282016%29577957, p. 2 (accessed: 13 July 2019).

[12] https://archicree.com/realisations/maison-histoire-europeenne-bruxelles/ (accessed: 13 July 2019).

[13] Deschamps, and Perchoc, Le bâtiment Eastman.

[14] Chaix & Morel et Associés, Maison de l’Histoire Européenne, https://vimeo.com/298997432 (accessed: 13 July 2019).

[15] C. Dupont, ‘L’Institut dentaire George Eastman’, Cahiers de la Fonderie, 52 (2017), p. 29.

[16] Ibid., p. 28.

[17] Committee of Experts, House of European History: Conceptual Basis for a House of European History, Brussels, 2008, http://www.europarl.europa.eu/meetdocs/2004_2009/documents/dv/745/745721/745721_en.pdf (accessed: 14 July 2019).

[18] .myinteractions.eu (accessed: 14 July 2019).

[19] ‘Shenzhen Declaration on Museums and Collections – UNESCO High Level Forum on Museums, 10–12 November 2016’, in: D. Folga-Januszewska (ed.), Extended Museum in its Milieu, vol. 1 of the ‘Muzeologia’ publishing series, Kraków: Universitas, 2017, pp. 15–18.

[20] On changes of meaning of objects integrated into a collection, see e.g. P. van Mensch, L. Meijer van Mensch, New Trends in Museology, Celje: Museum of Recent History, 2011, p. 18.

[21] On curatorial practice as ‘heritagisation’ practice, see L. Smith, All Heritage is Intangible: Critical Heritage Studies and Museums, Text of the Reinwardt Memorial Lecture, 26 May 2011, Amsterdam: Reinwardt Academy, Amsterdam School of the Arts, 2011, https://www.reinwardt.ahk.nl/fileadmin/download/reinwardt/RWA_All_heritage_WEB.pdf, p. 9 (14 July 2019).

[22] In cooperation with Bozar and under their programme ‘1918, European Dreams of Modernity – 100 Years On’, https://historia-europa.ep.eu/en/agenda/daydreaming-nations-tours (14 July 2019).

[23] https://historia-europa.ep.eu/en/agenda/european-story-series-1 (14 July 2019).

[24] “Significance is a way of telling stories about items or collections, explaining why they are important”, R. Russell, K. Winkworth, Significance 2.0: a guide to assessing the significance of collections, Adelaide, 2009, https://www.arts.gov.au/sites/g/files/net1761/f/significance-2.0.pdf, p. 1 (accessed: 14 July 2019).

A MATTER OF DIRECTION? MUSEUM OCCUPATIONS BETWEEN RESISTANCE AND COMPLICITY

[1] For the full introduction see ICOM, ‘Museums and Identities’, ICOM Slovensko, 2018, http://network.icom.museum/icom-slovakia/aktivity/museums-and-identities/ (accessed: 13 Feb. 2019).

[2] L. Nochlin, ‘Museums and Radicals. A History of Emergencies’, in: B. O‘Doherty (ed.), Museums in Crisis, New York: George Braziller, 1972, p. 14.

[3] Pierre Bourdieu and Alain Darbel most prominently pointed to the socially exclusive structure of art museums: Cf. P. Bourdieu, A. Darbel, The Love of Art. European Art Museums and Their Public, Cambridge: Polity Press, 1991.

[4] H.B. Stowe, Sunny Memories of Foreign Lands, Boston: Phillips, Samson & Co., 1854, vol. 2, pp. 170–2.

[5] Cf. A. Gramsci, ‘State and Civil Society’, in: Q. Hoare and G.N. Smith (eds.), Selections from the Prison Notebooks of Antonio Gramsci, New York: International Publishers, 1971, p. 243.

[6] G. Garrett, ‘Liverpool 1921–1922’, in: M. Murphy (ed.), The Collected George Garrett, Nottingham: Trent Editions, 1999, p. 199. George Garrett was a participant and chronicler of the activities of the National Unemployed Workers’ Committee Movement. The research for this case study is mainly based upon his account of the events and Suzanne MacLeod’s investigations. Cf. S. MacLeod, ‘Civil Disobedience and Political Agitation: the Art Museum as a Site of Protest in the Early Twentieth Century’, Museum and Society, 5 (2007), no. 1, p. 55.

[7] According to Andrew Lees, it was Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain who used this description first. Cf. A. Lees, Liverpool: The Hurricane Port, 2nd ed.: Edinburgh and London: Mainstream Publishing, 2013, available at Kobo (accessed: 13 Feb. 2019).

[8] Cf. C.G. Pooley, ‘Living in Liverpool: The Modern City’, in: J. Belchem (ed.), Liverpool 800, Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2006, pp. 197, 235.

[9] Garret, ‘Liverpool 1921–1922’, pp. 185–6.

[10] Ibid., p. 193.

[11] Ibid., p. 188.

[12] Ibid., p. 193.

[13] Ibid., p. 199.

[14] Cf. J. Moore, High Culture and Tall Chimneys: Art Institutions and Urban Society in Lancashire, 1780–1914, Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2018, pp. 171–80.

[15] Garret, ‘Liverpool 1921–1922’, p. 211.

[16] MacLeod, ‘Civil Disobedience and Political Agitation’, p. 55.

[17] C. Blotkamp et al. (eds.), Museum in Motion? Museum in Beweging? Het museum voor moderne kunst ter diskussie, The Hague: Staatsuitgeverij, 1979, p. 248.

[18] M. Dogan, ‘How Civil War Was Avoided in France’, International Political Science Review, 5 (1984), no. 3, p. 247.

[19] A choice had to be made between the art centre and the ministry of culture. Cf. S. Govaert, Mai ‘68. C’était au temps où Bruxelles contestait, Brussels: Pol-His, 1990, p. 157.

[20] The arbitrary distribution of subsidies as well as the overall spreading of the cultural budget were mains points of critique in the Free Assembly’s position paper of 30 May 1968. A copy of this document can be found in Blotkamp, Museum in Motion?, p. 248.

[21] Cf. Blotkamp, Museum in Motion?, p. 248. See also the press statement of the occupiers in K. De Boodt and P. Dujardin, ‘The Artist Says “We” (and then again “I”). On the Public Perception of the Occupation of the Centre for Fine Arts’, in: C. Eyene (ed.), Resist! The 1960s Protests, Photography & Visual Legacy, Tielt: Lannoo Publishers, 2018, p. 228.

[22] Cf. De Boodt and Dujardin, ‘The Artist says “We”’, pp. 233–5.

[23] The Dutch Days was a festival intending to strengthen the cultural bond between the North and South of the former Netherlands.

[24] Cf. De Boodt and Dujardin, ‘The Artist says “We”’, p. 229.

[25] He called the Bozar a ‘maison de la bourgeoisie’ and suggested to turn it into a ‘maison de travailleurs’. Cf. De Boodt and Dujardin, ‘The Artist says “We”’, p. 229.

[26] The treaty specifies the rights and obligations of the occupiers. A copy can be found in Blotkamp, Museum in Motion?, p. 248.

[27] Govaert, Mai ‘68, p. 158.

[28] Interestingly, three years later, a variation of this structure “tailored to the experiment, participation, discussion and happening culture” was rebuilt on the same spot by an architecture firm, commissioned by the Bozar. Cf. De Boodt and Dujardin, ‘The Artist says “We”’, p. 242.

[29] Govaert, Mai ‘68, p. 160.

[30] De Boodt and Dujardin, ‘The Artist says “We”’, p. 230.

[31] Govaert, Mai ‘68, p. 161.

[32] Ibid., p. 161.

[33] De Boodt and Dujardin, ‘The Artist says “We”’, p. 242.

[34] Cf. F. De Vree, Marcel Broodthaers. Oeuvres 1963–1975, Brussels: Isy Brachot, 1990, p. 44.

[35] Cf. D. Crimp, ‘This is Not a Museum of Art’, in D. Crimp (ed.), Marcel Broodthaers, Minneapolis and New York: Walker Art Center, 1989, p. 76.

[36] N. Fischer, ‘Agency in a Zoo. The Occupy Movement’s Strategic Expansion to Art Institutions’, Field. A Journal of Socially-Engaged Art Criticism, no. 2 (2015), p. 31.

[37] N. Fischer, ‘Occupy Museums Manifesto’, Noah Fischer, 1 Oct. 2011, http://www.noahfischer.org/project/ows/38396, (accessed: 16 Feb. 2019). Inspired by the Tahrir protests in Turkey and the Spanish Movimiento 15-M, the Occupy Wall Street movement was initiated in September 2011. The activists occupied public and semi-public spaces in order to actively lay claim to public property, to raise awareness of the influence of mainly financial corporations on political decisions, and to fight economic and social inequality.

[38] A. Żmijewski, ‘Vorwort’, in: A. Żmijewski and J. Warsza (eds.), Forget Fear, Cologne: Walther König, 2012, p. 17.

[39] A. Żmijewski et al., ‘Letter From the Biennale Staff to the Participants in Indignadxs/Occupy Biennale’, Facebook, 13 Apr. 2012, https://www.facebook.com/notes/occupy-berlin-biennale/letter-from-the-biennale-staff-to-the-participants-in-indignadxsoccupy-biennale/179728402147458 (accessed: 16 Feb. 2019).

[40] Cf. Indignados and Occupy Biennale, ‘Von den AktivistInnen der neuen Protestbewegungen’, Press Kit of the Berlin Biennale, 25 Apr. 2012.

[41] Texte zur Kunst is a left-wing German art magazine, closely affiliated with the tradition of Critical Theory.

[42] Cf. S. Lütticken, ‘Let’s Fake History’, Texte zur Kunst, 22 (2012), no. 86, p. 222.

[43] K. Stakemeier and J.P. Raether, ‘Triumph der Mülltrennung’, Texte zur Kunst, 22 (2012), no. 86, p. 228.

[44] Cf. S. Boecker, ‘An der Realität gescheitert’, Kunstforum, 216 (2012), p. 160.

[45] C. Lange, ‘7th Berlin Biennale’, Frieze, 148 (2012), p. 195.

[46] As Fischer asserted in a personal message to me, the reason for their delayed arrival was that they were “busy in NYC with political activities in May, which took priority over the Biennial opening”. The first ‘May Day’ of Occupy and the protesting of non-union labour at the Frieze Art Fair were only two in a series of activities which OM took part in May 2012.

[47] Especially the private funding of public art institutions and the dependencies that come with it, as well as the precarious working conditions that are omnipresent within the cultural sector have been a constant focus of OM’s activities.

[48] Cf. B. Riley, “The Most Creative and Exciting Artistic Aspects of Occupy are Not Visual, but Rather Experiential”. An Interview with Blithe Riley, Participant at Occupy Biennale, Part of the 7th Berlin Biennale, Realized by Raluca Voinea’, Idea. Arts + Society, 41 (2012), p. 123.

[49] Ibid., p. 128.

[50] Ibid., p. 129.

[51] N. Fischer and A. Żmijewski, ‘The Occupied Museum’, ArtLeaks Gazette, 2 (2014), p. 15.

[52] J. Rancière, The Politics of Aesthetics. The Distribution of the Sensible, London and New York: Continuum, 2004, p. 13.

[53] Ibid., p. 18.

[54] J. Rancière, ‘Occupation’, Political Concepts. A Critical Lexicon, 2012, https://www.politicalconcepts.org/occupation-jacques-ranciere/ (accessed: 19 Feb. 2019).

[55] According to Rancière, “equality only generates politics when it is implemented in the specific form of a particular case of dissensus”, see Rancière, The Politics of Aesthetics, p. 52.

[56] For a critical discussion of the ‘biennial phenomenon’, see P. Kompatsiaris, ‘Curating Resistances: Ambivalences and Potentials of Contemporary Art Biennials’, Communication, Culture & Critique, 7 (2014), pp. 76–91.

[57] Simon Sheikh describes these curatorial practices as a ‘third wave’ of Institutional Critique. Cf. S. Sheikh, ‘Notes on Institutional Critique’, in: G. Raunig and G. Ray (eds.), Art and Contemporary Critical Practice: Reinventing Institutional Critique, London: MayFlyBooks, 2009, p. 9.

[58] P. Burke, Popular Culture in Early Modern Europe, 3rd ed.: Cambridge: Ashgate, 2009, p. 268.

[59] Ibid., pp. 282–4.

[60] Berlin Biennale, ‘The 7th Berlin Biennale – More Discussions Than Ever Before’, Berlin Biennale, July 2012, http://blog.berlinbiennale.de/en/1st-6th-biennale/7th-berlin-biennale.html (accessed: 20 Feb. 2019).

[61] J. Rancière, Disagreement. Politics and Philosophy, Minnesota: University of Minnesota Press, 1999, p. 103.

MUSEUM AS A PLATFORM FOR PERSONAL DEVELOPMENT

[1] C. Wavell, G. Baxter, I. Johnson, D. Williams, Impact Evaluation of Museums, Archives and Libraries: Available Evidence Project, Aberdeen: Robert Gordon University, 2002, p. 78.

[2] Ibid.

[3] G. Fyfe, ‘Sociology and the Social Aspects of Museums’, in: Sh. Macdonald (ed.), A Companion to Museum Studies, Hoboken NJ: Wiley-Blackwell, 2011, p. 33.

[4] M. Borusiewicz, Nauka czy rozrywka? Nowa muzeologia w europejskich definicjach muzeum, Kraków: Universitas, 2012, p. 90.

[5] E. Hooper-Greenhill, ‘Studying visitors’, in: S. MacDonald (ed.), A Companion to Museum Studies, Malden: Wiley-Blackwell, 2006, pp. 362–76.

[6] R. Miles, I. Zavala (ed.), Towards the Museum of the Future: New European Perspective, New York: Routledge, 1994; R.R. Janes, G.T. Conaty (ed.), Looking Reality in the Eye: Museums and Social Responsibility, Calgary: University of Calgary Press, 2005.

[7] R. Batko, R. Kotowski, Nowoczesne muzeum. Dziedzictwo i współczesność, Kielce: Muzeum Narodowe w Kielcach, 2010, pp. 52–3.

[8] E. Hooper-Greenhill, Museums and Their Visitors, London and New York: Routledge, 1994, p. 2.

[9] Ibid., p. 1.

[10] D. Folga-Januszewska, P. Jaskanis, and S. Waltoś, Raport. Kierunkowe zmiany w muzealnictwie polskim. Propozycje, 16 Nov. 2009.

[11] E. Nieroba, A. Czerny, M.S. Szczepański, ‘Między nostalgią a nadzieją. Dziedzictwo kulturowe jako dyskursywny obszar rzeczywistości społecznej’, in: E. Nieroba, A. Czerny, M.S. Szczepański (eds.), Między nostalgią a nadzieją. Dziedzictwo kulturowe w ujęciu interdyscyplinarnym, Opole: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Opolskiego, 2009, p. 9.

AGRICULTURE: REDISCOVERED IDENTITY IN THE CONTEXT OF FAST-CHANGING WORLD

[1] The article will be published in Czech version in Prameny a studie (Sources and Studies), a peer--reviewed journal of the National Museum of Agriculture.

[2] One can clearly follow these phenomena in multi-ethnic regions, for instance in the former Austrian Silesia, where they can be traced in the Czech, German, and Polish population in parallel.

[3] In 1989, the total number of visitors to Czech museums stood at 13,815,000, while in 1991 at just 8,731,000. For more detail, see Tab. 12.09: Vybrané ukazatele z kultury (1989–2016), https://www.czso.cz/csu/czso/ceska-republika-od-roku-1989-v-cislech-2017-8jcopi31rm#12 (accessed: 17 July 2019).

[4] F. Ochrana, M. Plaček, M.J. Půček, A. Šimčík, Management a hospodaření muzeí, Praha: Karolinum, 2018, p. 204.

[5] Innovations are felt in all parts of museum’s organism, in selection, curation, communication, and institutionalisation. For more, see e.g. F. Waidacher, Handbuch der allgemeinen Museologie, Wien: Böhlau Verlag, 1993.

[6] The National Museum of Agriculture organises a wide range of special events such as ‘Letná Pig or Pig Feast in the Museum’, ‘Letná Mardi Gras’, ‘Easter in the Museum’, ‘Herbal Day’, ‘Museum Day in Letná’, ‘Letná is Growing’, ‘Agriculture Day’, ‘Prague Museum Night’, ‘Letná Harvest Festival’, ‘On the Track of Food Secrets or Do You Know What You Eat?’, ‘Scientists’ Night’, ‘Biomarket’, ‘Hunters’ Feast’, ‘Letná Goose and St Martin’s Wine Tasting’, ‘Advent Workshops’, ‘St Nicolas in the Museum and St Nicolas Fair’, ‘Security Day’, ‘Great-Grandfather’s Tractor’, ‘Heritage Memorial Open Day’, ‘Rudolf Chotek’s Journey Through the Chateau’, ‘Open Garden Weekend’, ‘Kačina Chateau Night’, ‘Kefir Festival’, ‘Wine and Grain Harvest in Kačina‘, ‘Riding Festival at the Chateau’, ‘National Hunters’ Festival’, ‘Festival of Forest and Wood’, ‘Museum Pumpkin Harvest’, or ‘Meeting Ostrava Patriots in the Moravian-Silesian Region’, and many others.

[7] Within this context, what we understand by ‘common sense’ is preference for solutions which are correct and useful rather than just likeable or populist. By ‘common’ we mean appropriate to local conditions, easy to understand and well-suited to the context, focused on addressing causes rather than just mitigating the consequences, and finally, by ‘sense’ we mean they are logical.

[8] E. Kubů, J. Šouša, A. Šimčík, 100 let Národního zemědělského muzea, Praha: Národní zemědělské muzeum, 2018, p. 160.

MUSEUMS OF MIGRATION: MIGRANTS’ IDENTITY AND IMPLEMENTING THE MUSEUM’S MISSION STATEMENT – CASE STUDIES FROM POLAND AND CANADA

[1] Ch. Whitehead, K. Lloyd, S. Eckersley, and R. Mason (eds.), Museums, Migration and Identity in Europe. Peoples, Places and Identities, London and New York: Routledge, 2016.

[2] A. Karnat-Napieracz, ‘Local, national and European identity in the age of globalisation – a sociological Perspective’, Annales Universitatis Paedagogicae Cracoviensis. Studia Socilogica, 2 (2012), no. 4, pp. 46–55.

[3] A. Chodubski, ‘O tożsamości polonijnej’, in: id. (ed.), Tożsamość kulturowa, kwestie narodowościowe i polonijne, Toruń: Wydawnictwo Adam Marszałek, 1998, pp. 9–13.

[4] Interesting remarks on the relationship between the collective memory and museum narratives that include oral history accounts can be found in: M.T. Tureby, J. Johansson, ‘Narratives from multi-cultural Sweden: Positioning and identification in immigrant collections at the archive of the Nordic Museum 1970–2015’, Oral history, 44 (2016), no. 2, pp. 81–90.

[5] Faces of the Polish Diaspora: People of Hamtramck, Summary available at: http://www.polska1.pl/en/dzialania/aktualnosci/invitation_to_an_exhibition/ (accessed: 31 Jan. 2019).

[6] Poles in the Canadian Mosaic. 150 Years of History, Summary available at: http://www.polska1.pl/en/dzialania/aktualnosci/one_exposition_two_vernissages/ (accessed: 31 Jan. 2019]. Michalina Petelska was one of the exhibition’s co-curators.

[7] Ask about Poland, Summary available at: http://www.polska1.pl/en/dzialania/aktualnosci/repatriates_to_meet_at_the_emigration_museum/ (accessed: 31 Jan. 2019).

[8] Female emigrants in their own voice, Summary available at: http://www.polska1.pl/en/dzialania/aktualnosci/female_emigrants_in_their_own_voice/ (accessed: 31 Jan. 2019).

[9] The exhibition was presented between September 2012 and April 2013. Information based on the Museum’s collection, described by Magdalena Blackmore, President of the Board of the Museum.

[10] The exhibition was presented in 2010. Information based on the Museum’s collection, described by Magdalena Blackmore, President of the Board of the Museum.

[11] The exhibition was presented between 27 January and 13 February 2015. Information based on the Museum’s collection, described by Magdalena Blackmore, President of the Board of the Museum.

[12] K.N. Conzen, D.A. Gerber, E. Morawska, G.E. Pozzetta, R.J. Vecoli, ‘The Invention of Ethnicity: A perspective from the USA’, Journal of American Ethnic History, 12 (1992), no. 1, pp. 4–41.

[13] I. Riccardi, Human Refugees, Danish Museum of Immigration, 2016.

[14] Several valuable remarks on this topic can be found in the chapter ‘Language learning in museums’ in: S. Labadi, Museums, Immigrants, and Social Justice, London and New York: Routledge, 2018, pp. 63–86.

[15] For more on the relationship between migration and identity relationships, and in particular about the identity of Ukrainians and Belarusians in Poland, see: K. Jurek, Tożsamość imigrantów z Białorusi i Ukrainy. Wchodzenie w polskie społeczeństwo, Lublin: Katolicki Uniwersytet Lubelski Jana Pawła II, 2016.

[16] Multicultural Gdynia – The Tradition of Hospitality, Summary available at: http://www.polska1.pl/en/dzialania/aktualnosci/multicultural_gdynia_-_tradition_of_hospitality/ (accessed: 31 Jan. 2019).

[17] For example, the event of 9 February 2019: http://www.polska1.pl/pl/dzialania/aktualnosci/902_gdynia_language_swap (accessed: 2 Feb. 2019).

[18] Museums that are not strictly museums of migration gain new visitors when addressing the issue of migration in their activities (exhibitions). Immigrants, especially those with lower cultural competencies, relatively rarely use the offer of cultural institutions in the country of settlement. As the example shows, an exhibition on migration can increase the proportion of migrants among visitors by up to more than 30% – see: A. Eryilmaz, ‘The Political and Social Significance of a Museum of Migration in Germany’, Museum International, 59 (May 2007), nos. 1–2, pp. 127–36.

[19] Programme available at: http://www.polska1.pl/pl/dzialania/aktualnosci/wakacje_warte_wschodu/ (accessed: 31 Jan. 2019).

[20] 16-17-18.11 [edit] Ukraina. Spotkania literackie, Summary available at: http://www.polska1.pl/pl/dzialania/aktualnosci/edit_ukraina/ (accessed: 31 Jan. 2019).

[21] Educational offer available at: http://www.polska1.pl/pl/edukacja/oferta_dla_szkol_i_przedszkoli/licea_i_szkoly_ponadgimnazjalne (accessed: 2 Feb. 2019).

[22] For more on the changes in the function of urban space in port cities see e.g. T. Palmowski, M. Pacuk, T. Michalski, ‘Przemiany przestrzeni miejskiej miast portowych na przykładzie Gdańska i Gdyni’, in: I. Jażdżewska (ed.), Miasto postsocjalistyczne. Organizacja przestrzeni miejskiej i jej przemiany: XIV Konwersatorium Wiedzy o Mieście, vol. 2, Łódź: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Łódzkiego, 2001, pp. 33–46.

[23] Migrations | Creations 2, Summary available at: http://www.polska1.pl/en/dzialania/aktualnosci/immigrants_have_landed_in_gdynia_port/ (accessed: 31 Jan. 2019).

[24] Ladies, Gentlemen, and the Town, Summary available at: http://www.polska1.pl/en/dzialania/aktualnosci/ladies_gentlemen_and_the_town/ (accessed: 31 Jan. 2019).

[25] For more on the relationship between residents and built environment see, e.g. P. Borysyewicz, ‘Duch miejsca trzeciego’, in: B. Gutowski (ed.), Fenomen Genius Loci. Tożsamość miejsca w kontekście historycznym i współczesnym, Warszawa: Instytut Historii Sztuki (Uniwersytet Kardynała Stefana Wyszyńskiego), Muzeum Pałacu w Wilanowie, 2009, pp. 83–88.

[26] Resolutions Adopted by ICOM’s 31st General Assembly, Milan, Italy, 2016, https://icom.museum/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/ICOMs-Resolutions_2016_Eng.pdf (accessed: 17 July 2019).

THE RECONSTRUCTION OF A CULTURAL LANDSCAPE BY EMIGRANT’S IDENTITY: POPULATION EXCHANGE MUSEUMS IN TURKEY

[1] During the Lausanne negotiations, the population change considered as the priority issue was determined by the Turkish and Greek sides with the “Protocol on the Convention on the Exchange of Turkish-Greek Peoples” and its boundaries and nature. According to the Convention Article 1, Orthodox Greeks in Turkey, Muslim Greek nationals in Greece will be subjected to forced migration since 1 May 1923 and the migrants shall not return to settle in their country of origin without the permission of the Turkish and Greek authorities, K. Arı, ‘Lozan Barış Görüşmeleri ve Nüfus Mübadelesi’, Toplumsal Tarih Dergisi, 155 (2003), pp. 88–89.

[2] The process of population exchange in Greece seems to have more corporate approach than that in Turkey. Particularly thanks to the Center for Asia Minor Studies, while the oral history deemed to be forgotten, was recorded, enough data were collected to establish a national ethnographic museum on population exchange. Greece, however, maintain historical data relating to the exchange on behalf of museums, unlike Turkey, with non-governmental organizations focusing on settlement history at the regional scale. For this reason, there is only one museum (Museum of the Asia Minor Hellenism “Filio Chaidemenou”) in Greece, which is the only one in this area. There are also separate sections in several museums (like Benaki Museum or Byzantine Museum).

[3] E. Chapman, ‘What Makes a Museum National? National Identities at Community Museums’, Linköping Electronic Conference Proceedings, 2007, p. 237.

[4] Nearly a hundred houses and trade structures were built in the last quarter of the 19th century by the Greek Cypriot population living in Alaçam before the compulsory population exchange. These structures became a home for Turkish immigrants coming from Greece. A large part of the structures that have come to date are registered as ‘immovable cultural heritage’ by the Turkish Ministry of Culture and Tourism.

[5] The emphasis of ‘first’ here has made on the basis of the author’s own personal observations and professional experience.

[6] In the opening speeches of the International Izmir Migration and Population Exchange Symposium held on 27–28 April 2017, organized by İzmir Urban Archives and İzmir Metropolitan Municipality, it was emphasised that the symposium was held in order to prepare an ideological and scientific ground for the İzmir Migration and Population Exchange House, which will be opened soon.

[7] R. Mason, Heritage and Identity: What Makes Us Who We Are? 2015, p. 2, (http://www.ncl.ac.uk/sacs/staff/profile/rhiannon.mason#tab_research (accessed: 8 Aug. 2018).

[8] According to the author of this research, museums are one of the important spaces in the society where we could have these kinds of public conversations freely. Because daily printed materials like newspaper or periodical symposiums organized by universities are a vehicle for such discussion, these methods are not as efficient as the museums and they seem to be within the formal political system, failing to reach a population at large.

A TALE OF TWO CITIES.
DESIGNING AN EXTENDED MUSEUM OF THE PRESENT WITH THE FORMER WARSAW GHETTO FRAGMENTS: THE WALICÓW PROJECT

[1] M. Augé, Le temps en ruines, Paris: Éditions Galilée, 2003.

[2] I borrowed the title of this contribution from the homonymous book by Charles Dickens (1859) as a critical interpretation of the European city of the nineteenth century.

[3] Regarding the issue of the philological reconstruction of the historical centre of Warsaw in relation to the theme of the ‘false’ in the reconstruction of totally devastated monuments, or to the issue of value represented by it, then of how controversial the scientific nature of that type of intervention both at the time and today’s observatory, refer to the argumentations, in my opinion still fully sharable, by Ezio Bonfanti in his ‘Architecture for the historical centers’ in: id., Scritti di architettura, a cura di L. Scacchetti, Milano: Clup, 1981, p. 304 (‘Architettura per i centri storici’). Also on the subject of the reconstruction of the historic center of Warsaw it may also be of some interest to compare Bonfanti’s arguments with the articles collected in: ‘Polonia’, Casabella, 33 (Oct. 1969), no. 341. In particular, the strongly ideological imprint of Piotr Bieganski, ‘Strategy of restoration. Notes on the conservation and protection of historical monuments in Poland’, p. 36–9; and that of Luigi Vagnetti, ‘The past discovered. Ideology and feeling in the urban face of Poland’, pp. 14–21. Regarding the overall plan of reconstruction of Warsaw, its practical modalities and its ideological imprint refer to the volume that collects the materials that form the report presented at the Conference of the Polish Unified Worker Party of 3 July 1949, edited by the first mayor of the city, Bolesław Bierut, during the reconstruction: Le plan sexennal de reconstruction de Varsovie. Le composition graphique, les diagrammes, le plans et les perspectives ont été établis d’apres la documentation et les projects du bureau d’urbanisme de Varsovie, Warszawa: Książka i Wiedza, 1951. I have also consulted the following volume which contains the documents of the reconstruction plan of the city: J. Zarzyki (ed.), Plan Generalny Warszawy. Prezydium Rady Narodowej Miasta Stołecznego Warszawy, Rada Główna Społecznego Funduszu Odbudowy Stolicy i Kraju, Warszawa: Drukarnia im. Rewolucji Październikowej, 1965. Of particular interest are the parts relating to the conception of the plan at pp. 45–54, and the comparative schemes between the pre-war urban structure and that of the reconstruction, especially those reported on pp. 130–3 of the chapter XVI ‘Śródmieście’ (City Center).

[4] Chłodna Street was bypassed by the most important – and present in the European collective unconscious – of the wooden bridges built by the Nazi engineers to connect in several points some enclaves of the Ghetto and thus make them definitively disjointed from the city’s street network. In this case the bridge become the only one connection between the ‘Little’ and the ‘Large’ Ghetto.

I got all the information and historical reconstructions on the Warsaw Ghetto and in particular on the so-called ‘Little Ghetto’ from the volume of B. Engelking and J. Leociak, The Warsaw Ghetto. A Guide to the Perished City, Yale: Yale University Press, 2003. I have also consulted the volume by R. Sakowska et al., Warszawskie Getto 1943–1988. W 45 rocznicę powstania, Warszawa: Interpress, 1988; and the illustrated book that also contains the text of M. Edelman, The Warsaw Ghetto: The 45th Anniversary of the Uprising (published in Italian by the forward of Włodek Goldkorn, Il Ghetto di Varsavia lotta, Firenze: Giuntina, 2012), the book by Michel Mazor, The Vanished City: Everyday Life in the Warsaw Ghetto, Venice: Marsilio Pub., 1994, and Jacob Sloan (ed.), Notes from the Warsaw Ghetto: The Journal of Emmanuel Ringelblum, New York: Schocken Books, 1974.

[5] The Jewish Cemetery (Cmentarz Żydowski) is still an extraordinary forest-lapidarium and the only part of the city document that has not been razed by the Nazis: one of the most powerful image operators of the previous city that deserves a separate discussion.

[6] I have investigated this specific topic in my essay: ‘Continente Varsavia: da metropoli a necropoli. Alle origini della segregazione/periferia’, Ananke, no. 82 (Sep. 2017), pp. 62–66.

[7] A particularly incisive description of this landscape of total destruction is present in the writing on Warsaw by Vasily Grossman, reported in the book by A Writer at War. Vasily Grossman with the Red Army 1941–1945, ed. A. Beevor, transl. L. Vinogradova. In the Italian version of the book, the chapter ‘Warsaw-Łodz’ is published by Adelphi, Milan, 2015, pp. 353–60.

[8] Grossman, A Writer at War, p. 348.

[9] According to Zygmunt Baumann in Modernity and the Holocaust, Cambridge, 1989 (Italian edition by Il Mulino, Bologna, 1989), the Shoah does not represent the failure of modernity as claimed by Helen Fein in Accounting for Genocide: National Responses and Jewish Victimization during the Holocaust, New York: Free Press, 1979, but is one of its ‘products’.

[10] G. Didi-Huberman, Images malgré tout, Paris: Les Éditions de Minuit, 2003 (in Italian: Immagini malgrado tutto, Milano: Feltrinelli, 2005, p. 37).

[11] J. Rykwert, Remembering Places. A Memoir, Oxford: Routledge, 2017.

[12] I would like to point out the interesting study about the types of bricks used in traditional constructions in Poland at the beginning of the last century by Prof. Jan Sas Zubrzycki, Murarz polski, Lwów: Gubrynowicz i Syn, 1916.

[13] W. Benjamin, Über den Begriff der Geschichte, Frankfurt am Mein: Suhrkamp Verlag, 1966 (in Italian: Sul concetto di storia, Torino: Einaudi, 1997, p. 136).

[14] Augé, Le temps en ruines, p. 93.

[15] In this regard, see my text, ‘The Ghetto “Tradition” in contemporary European cities: memory, narrative and reissues’, Eutopia. Ideas for Europe Magazine, no. ‘European Cities’ (20 Oct. 2014). Cf. also J. Calame, E. Charlesworth, Divided Cities. Belfast, Beirut, Jerusalem, Mostar and Nicosia, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009.

[16] The first results of the design experiments are collected in the official website .walicowproject.polimi.it (accessed: 19 July 2019).

TOWARDS A SOCIOLOGICAL ANALYSIS OF THE SYNAGOGUE MUSEUM IN CONTEMPORARY POLAND

[1] R. Mahler, Yehude Polin Ben Shte Milhamot ha-Olam, Tel-Aviv, 1968; J. Tomaszewski, Ojczyzna nie tylko Polaków: mniejszości narodowe w Polsce w latach 1918–1939, Warszawa: Młodzieżowa Agencja Wydawnicza, 1985, p. 50; E. Mendelsohn, The Jews of East Central Europe: Between the World Wars, Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press, 1987, pp. 11–84.

[2] See, among others, B. Szaynok, Pogrom Żydów w Kielcach 4 lipca 1946, Warszawa: Bellona, 1992; D. Stola, Kampania antysyjonistyczna w Polsce 1967–1968, Warszawa: Instytut Studiów Politycznych Polskiej Akademii Nauk, 2000; J.T. Gross, Fear: Anti-Semitism in Poland After Auschwitz: An Essay in Historical Interpretation, New York: Random House, 2007; D. Stola, Kraj bez wyjścia? Migracje z Polski 1949–1989, Warszawa: Instytut Pamięci Narodowej – Komisja Ścigania Zbrodni przeciwko Narodowi Polskiemu, 2010.

[3] Some have estimated the Jewish population in 1989–90 at approximately 2,000, whereas others maintain the number was somewhat higher and closer to 10,000. See, for instance, A. Polonsky, ‘“Loving and Hating the Dead”: Present-day Polish Attitudes to the Jews’, Religion, State and Society, 20 (1992), no. 1, p. 69, who opens his 1992 article with the following: “Today there are barely 10,000 Jews in Poland”.

[4] A small but rich literature on contemporary Jewish life in Poland has appeared in recent years. See H. Halkowski, Żydowskie życie, Kraków: Austeria, 2003; S. Krajewski, Poland and the Jews: Reflections of a Polish Polish Jew, Kraków: Austeria, 2005; K. Gebert, Living in the Land of Ashes, Kraków and Budapest: Austeria, 2008; K. Gebert and H. Datner, Jewish Life in Poland: Achievements, Challenges and Priorities since the Collapse of Communism, London: Institute for Jewish Policy Research, 2011; K. Reszke, Return of the Jew: Identity Narratives of the Third Post-Holocaust Generation of Jews in Poland, Boston, Mass.: Academic Studies Press, 2013; A. Baumol, In My Grandfather’s Footsteps: A Rabbi’s Notes from the Frontlines of Poland’s Jewish Revival, Kraków: Austeria, 2019. I thank Rabbi Avi Baumol for sharing with me a manuscript copy of his insightful autoethnographic reflections on Jewish life in Poland.

[5] For a catalogue of synagogues in Poland, see E. Bergman and J. Jagielski, Zachowane synagogi i domy modlitwy w Polsce: Katalog, Warszawa: Żydowski Instytut Historyczny, 1996. See also W. Wilczyk, Niewinne oko nie istnieje / There’s No Such Thing As An Innocent Eye, Łódź: Atlas Sztuki, and Kraków: Korporacja Ha!art, 2009.

[6] For an insightful and critical analysis of the exploitation of Jewish remains in the Hevre Café in Kraków, see J. Francisco, ‘Hanukah in Holocaustland’, 31 December 2016, http://jasonfrancisco.net/hanukah-in-holocaustland, (accessed: 3 March 2019).

[7] For an expanded analysis of these typological categories of synagogue remains, see J. Zisook, ‘Between Ruin and Rededication: Polish Synagogues and the Jewish Space’, Reflections, 3 (2017), pp. 56–66.

[8] See S. Spector and G. Wigoder, The Encyclopedia of Jewish Life Before and During the Holocaust, New York: New York University Press, 2001, pp. 253–4; D. Newman, Hope’s Reprise, trans. M. Beckerman, Toronto: Azrieli Foundation, 2015, p. 2.

[9] Spector and Wigoder, The Encyclopedia of Jewish Life, p. 254. See also Gross, Fear, pp. 31–80; E. Koźmińska-Frejlak, ‘Polska jako ojczyzna Żydów: Żydowskie strategie zadomowienia się w powojennej Polsce (1944–1949)’, Kultura i Społeczeństwo, 43 (1999), no. 1, p. 131.

[10] M. Maciągowski, and P. Krawczyk, The Story of Jewish Chmielnik, Kielce: Chmielnik Municipal Office, 2007, pp. 242–62.

[11] ‘Świętokrzyski Shtetl – Revitalisation of the synagogue in Chmielnik’, http://nizio.com.pl/swietokrzyski-shtetl-revitalisation-of-the-synagogue-in-chmielnik/ (accessed: 4 March 2019).

[12] Zisook, ‘Between Ruin and Rededication’, p. 58.

[13] P. Krawczyk, in discussion with the author, Chmielnik, Poland, 3 July 2017.

[14] Maciągowski and Krawczyk, The Story of Jewish Chmielnik.

[15] As quoted in M. Murzyn-Kupisz, ‘Rediscovering the Jewish Past in the Polish Provinces: The Socioeconomics of Nostalgia’, in: E. Lehrer and M. Meng (eds.), Jewish Space in Contemporary Poland, Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press, 2015, p. 115.

[16] As quoted in Maciągowski and Krawczyk, The Story of Jewish Chmielnik, p. 246.

[17] Konferencja Episkopatu Polski, ‘22nd Day of Judaism in the Catholic Church in Poland’, 18 January 2019, https://episkopat.pl/22nd-day-of-judaism-in-the-catholic-church-in-poland/ (accessed: 5 March 2019).

[18] Rachamim is the term for mercy and compassion in Biblical Hebrew.

[19] Father Gącik is alluding to the speech delivered by Pope John Paul II at the Great Synagogue of Rome on 13 April 1986, where the Pope referred to the Jews as “our elder brothers [in faith]” and “our dearly beloved brothers”. This was the first time a Pope ever visited a synagogue. For the official English translation of the Pope’s speech by the Vatican, see ‘Text of Pope’s Speech at Rome Synagogue: “You are Our Elder Brothers”’, New York Times, 14 April 1986, p. A 4, https://www.nytimes.com/1986/04/14/world/text-of-pope-s-speech-at-rome-synagogue-you-are-our-elder-brothers.html (accessed: 7 March 2019).

[20] Gross, Fear; Szaynok, Pogrom Żydów w Kielcach.

[21] Spector and Wigoder, The Encyclopedia of Jewish Life, p. 254.

[22] R. Biskup, Wrota niebios: synagogi regionu świętokrzyskiego / Gateways to Heaven: the Synagogues on the Świętokrzyskie Region, Kielce: Drukarnia “Panzel”, 2015, p. 25.

[23] A vociferous debate ensued in 2000-01 after the publication of J.T. Gross, Sąsiedzi: Historia zagłady żydowskiego miasteczka, Sejny: Fundacja “Pogranicze”, 2000, translated as Neighbors: The Destruction of the Jewish Community in Jedwabne, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2001. Gross uncovered a gruesome episode in WWII, where the Jews of the town of Jedwabne in northeastern Poland were rounded up and burned alive in a barn by their Polish neighbours. I discuss the Jedwabne debate and its aftermath at length in a forthcoming publication. For an extensive overview of the topic, see A. Polonsky and J.B. Michlic, The Neighbors Respond: The Controversy over the Jedwabne Massacre in Poland, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2004.

[24] Z. Radzik, ‘Bohater i Żydzi’, Tygodnik Powszechny, 3234 (2011), no. 27, https://www.tygodnikpowszechny.pl/bohater-i-zydzi-139700 (accessed: 6 March 2019). For an insightful analysis of the often idealised, kitsch, and exploitative environments of former Jewish heritage in Poland and elsewhere in Europe, see S.I. Salamensky, ‘Diaspora Disneys: “Jewface” Minstrelsy and “Jewfaçade” Display in East-Central Europe and Eurasia’, in: E. Nahshon (ed.), Jews and Theater in an Intercultural Context, Leiden: Brill, 2012, pp. 331–47.

[25] See A. Sabor, Sztetl: Śladami żydowskich miasteczek: Działoszyce, Pińczów, Chmielnik, Szydłów, Chęciny, Kraków: Austeria, 2005.

[26] A. Sabor, ‘Stereotypy są jak chwasty’, Tygodnik Powszechny, 3236 (2011), no. 29, https://www.tygodnikpowszechny.pl/stereotypy-sa-jak-chwasty-140146 (accessed: 6 March 2019), as translated in Murzyn-Kupisz, Jewish Space in Contemporary Poland, p. 148.

[27] Murzyn-Kupisz, Jewish Space in Contemporary Poland, p. 143.

[28] D. Pinto, A New Jewish Identity for Post-1989 Europe, London: Institute for Jewish Policy Research, 1996, p. 6.

[29] Zisook, ‘Between Ruin and Rededication,’ p. 56.

[30] Ibid.

[31] Ibid. See Y.M. Bodemann, Gedächtnistheater: Die jüdische Gemeinschaft und ihre deutsche Erfindung, Hamburg: Rotbuch Verlag, 1996.

[32] See D. Pinto, ‘The Third Pillar? Toward a European Jewish Identity’, in: A. Kovács and E. Andor (eds.), Jewish Studies at the Central European University: Public Lectures 1996–1999, Budapest: Central European University, Jewish Studies Program, 1999, http://web.ceu.hu/jewishstudies/pdf/01_pinto.pdf (accessed: 9 Sept. 2018).

[33] R.E. Gruber, Virtually Jewish: Reinventing Jewish Culture in Europe, Berkeley Calif.: University of California Press, 2002, p. 11.

[34] Ibid., p. 27.

[35] R.E. Gruber, Letters from Europe (and Elsewhere), Kraków and Budapest: Austeria, 2008, p. 62.

LANDSCAPE MUSEUM FOR BREEDING AND TRAINING OF CEREMONIAL CARRIAGE HORSES AT KLADRUBY NAD LABEM IN CZECHIA

[1] Anton Umlauft (1858–1919), a gardener, botanist and clerk, born at Rokytnice in the Orlické hory Mts. (Eagle Mountains), died in Vienna; the son of the Nostic family gardener Josef Umlauf, from 1877 gardener assistant in Schönbrunn Palace Garden; in 1877 made a palace gardener, in 1889 the chief garden inspector for Schönbrunn and Hetzendorf; in 1896 the court garden director for Schönbrunn, Hetzendorf, Augarten, Burggarten, and Laxenburg; in 1912 elected the vice-chairman of the Garden Society in Vienna; he landscaped several private parks (e.g. Esterházy), published books on the regeneration of old parks, on Schönbrunn, the cultivation of bulb plants in Austria, etc.; several plants have been named after him. He was a member of the Dendrologische Gesellschaft zur Förderung der Gehölzkunde und Gartenkunst in Österreich-Ungarn chaired by Count Ernst of Sivla-Tarouca.

[2] E.g. Versailles, Lednice-Valtice Cultural Landscape, Wörlitz, Postupim or Muskau.

[3] http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/83 (all websites were accessed on the same date: 22 July 2019).

[4] http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/425.

[5] http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/288.

[6] http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/549.

[7] http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/540.

[8] White Kladruber foals are born black and change their colour to white during the first five to eight years. So the seemingly random presence of white stallions and mares, black foals or black and white herds of mares and foals emphasises the moment of surprise and enhances the experience.

[9] Z. Novák et al., Zahrada Evropy, Národní zemědělské muzeum, s.p.o., Praha, 2017; the book was published thanks to the support of the Ministry of Culture of the Czech Republic in the framework of the ‘Cultural landscape as the space for representation and relaxation of selected aristocratic families in the period from the 17th to the early 20th century’, identification number DF13P01OVV01.

[10] http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/763.

[11] The park is on the World Heritage List as Component 002 of the serial property of the Historic Centre of Prague, http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/616.

[12] As far as the landscapes on the World Heritage List are concerned.

[13] http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/534.

[14] http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/532.

[15] http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/1127.

INHERITANCE AND TRANSFORMATION, AND THE IRISH MUSEUM OF MODERN ART

[1] D. McGonagle, ‘Foreword’, Inheritance and Transformation, exhibition catalogue, Irish Museum of Modern Art, 1991, p. 6.

[2] J. Hutchinson, ‘From the Edge to the Centre’, Inheritance and Transformation, 1991, p. 8.

[3] D. McGonagle, The Irish Times, 1991.

[4] Hutchinson, ‘From the Edge to the Centre’, p. 8.

[5] D. McGonagle, Irish Times, 1990.

[6] Willie Doherty talk in the context of his exhibition: Secretion in IMMA@NCH, 20 May 2013, https://soundcloud.com/imma-ireland/audio-archives-revisited-willie-doherty-in-conversation (accessed: 22 July 2019).

[7] Willie Doherty talk in the context of Art | Memory | Place programme, IMMA, 21 September 2016, https://soundcloud.com/imma-ireland/art-memory-place-willie-doherty-remains (accessed: 22 July 2019).

[8] C. Miłosz, Acceptance speech for the Nobel Prize in Literature: Nobel Lecture, 8 December 1980, https://www.nobelprize.org/prizes/literature/1980/milosz/lecture (accessed: 22 July 2019).

[9] L. Levine, The Troubles: An Artist’s Document of Ulster, IMMA, https://imma.ie/collection/the-troubles-an-artists-document-of-ulster-70 (accessed: 22 July 2019).

[10] D. Levy, and N. Sznaider, The Holocaust and Memory in a Global Age, trans. By A. Oksiloff, Temple University Press, 2006.

[11] Motion put forward by Fine Gael Councillor Mark Cooney of Athlone Town Council, 2013, story by T. Kelly, Athlone councillors’ artwork debate: As it happened, .westmeathindependent.ie/news/roundup/articles/2013/01/07/4013887-athlone-councillors-artwork-debate-live-updatesbr (accessed: 22 July 2019).

[12] IMMA press statement, 2013.

“THE SECOND CENTRE POMPIDOU”. THE DISPLAY OF MODERN AND CONTEMPORARY ART COLLECTION AT THE NATIONAL GALLERY IN PRAGUE IN THE LIGHT OF THE POST-COMMUNIST TRANSFORMATION OF CZECH NATIONAL IDENTITY

[1] L. Bydžovská, V. Lahoda, and K. Srp, Czech Modern Art 1900–1960, Prague: The National Gallery, 1995, pp. 11–19.

[2] V. Vlnas, 200 Let Národní Galerie v Praze, Praha: Národní galerie, 1995.

[3] L. Slavíček, “Sobě, Umění, Přátelům”: Kapitoly z Dějin Sběratelství v Čechách a na Moravě 1650–1939, Brno: Barrister & Principal, 2007, p. 151.

[4] Slavíček, “Sobě, Umění, Přátelům”, pp. 159–160.

[5] M. Hroch, European Nations: Explaining Their Formation, London and New York, 2015, Kindle edition.

[6] A.D. Smith, ‘Nations in Decline? The Erosion and Persistence of Modern National Identities’, in: A. Sturm, M. Young and E. Zuelow (eds.), Nationalism in a Global Era, London and New York: Routledge, 2007, p. 19.

[7] Smith, ‘Nations in Decline?’, p. 19.

[8] S.L. Croucher, ‘Perpetual Imagining: Nationhood in a Global Era’, International Studies Review, 5 (2003), pp. 3–4.

[9] M. Viroli, For Love of Country. An Essay on Patriotism and Nationalism, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995, p. 8.

[10] M. Rampley, ‘The Construction of National Art Histories and the “New” Europe’, in: T. Lenain et al. (eds.), Art History and Visual Studies in Europe: Transnational Discourses and National Frameworks, Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2012, pp. 233–244.

[11] M. Bartlová, ‘Art History in the Czech and Slovak Republics: Institutional Frameworks, Topics and Loyalties’, in: T. Lenain et al. (eds.), Art History and Visual Studies, p. 306.

[12] Bartlová, ‘Art History’, pp. 308–309.

[13] K. Kuthanová, ‘The Modern Gallery in the Reflection of National Identities’, in” M. Bartlová et al. (eds.), Building a State: The Representation of Czechoslovakia in Art, Architecture, and Design, Prague: Academy of Arts, Architecture and Design, 2015, pp. 123–126.

[14] Kuthanová, ‘The Modern Gallery’, pp. 123–126.

[15] M. Bartlová, ‘Continuity and Discontinuity in the Czech Legacy of the Vienna School of Art History’, Journal of Art Historiography, 8 (2013), pp. 1–10.

[16] A. Matějček and Z. Wirth, Modern and Contemporary Czech Art, London: George Routledge & Sons, 1924, pp. vii–46..

[17] Smith, ‘Nations in Decline?’, p. 19.

[18] J. Habermas, ‘The European Nation-State – Its Achievements and Its Limits. On the Past and Future of Sovereignty and Citizenship’, in: G. Balakrishnan (ed.), Mapping the Nation, London: Verso, 2012, p. 284.

[19] Matějček and Wirth, Modern and Contemporary, pp. vii–46.

[20] Kuthanová, ‘The Modern Gallery’, pp. 123–126.

[21] Soupis výstavní činnosti Národní galerie v Praze od r. 1945–1985, Archiv Národní Galerie, Praha, Česká Republika.

[22] NG Zhodnocení práce 1971–1975, Archiv Národní Galerie, Praha, Česká Republika.

[23] Soupis výstavní činnosti Národní galerie v Praze od r. 1945–1985.

[24] B. Buden, Konec Postkomunismu, Praha, Rybka Publishers, 2013, p. 67.

[25] L. Holy, The Little Czech and the Great Czech Nation, Cambridge, England, and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1996, p. 48–59.

[26] Podklady k TK, 12.12.1995 13:00, ke korektuře, Archiv Národní Galerie, Praha, Česká Republika.

[27] J. Rous, ‘Velebludiště’, Literární noviny, Feb. 1996, p. 14.

[28] M. Slavická, ‘Veletržní palác přinesl zklamání’, Lidové noviny, 10 Feb. 1996, p. 16.

[29] V. Lahoda and L. Bydžovská, ‘Jarmark Kritiky’, Lidové noviny, 16 March 1996, p. 16.

[30] Bydžovská, Lahoda, and Srp, Czech Modern Art, pp. 1–52.

[31] Ibid., p. 114–124.

[32] Ibid., p. 128.

[33] Ibid., p. 144.

[34] Ibid., pp. 24–315; Scénář stálé expozice pro Veletržní palác (1900–1960).

[35] Bartlová, ‘Continuity and Discontinuity’, p. 10.

[36] M. Orišková, ‘New Grand Narratives in East-Central European Art History?’, Ars, 1–3 (2002), pp. 234–240.

[37] Lahoda and Bydžovská, ‘Jarmark kritiky’.

[38] Orišková, ‘New Grand Narratives’, pp. 234–240.

[39] Buden, Konec Postkomunismu, pp. 60–65.

[40] Viroli, For Love of Country, pp. 1–17.

[41] N. Lovell, ‘Introduction: Belonging in Need of Placement?’, in: id., (ed.), Locality and Belonging, London and New York, 1998, pp. 1–24.

“SPONTANEOUS MUSEUMS” IN NORTHERN SWEDEN: CULTURAL NARRATIVES WITHIN NORRBOTTEN

[1] For more information, see par. 2.

[2] See: online Oxford Dictionary: https://www.lexico.com/en/definition/spontaneous (accessed: 22 July 2019).

[3] From Ekaterina Shcherbakova’s website: http://www.ekaterinashcherbakova.com/ (accessed: 22 July 2019).

[4] Art spontané: “Une démarche artistique et dans une création produite simplement, librement, sans contrainte. Leur art est autre. Hors des normes, hors des schémas institués, des règles, des limites”, http://musee-art-spontane.be/accueil/art-spontane/ (accessed: 22 July 2019).

[5] There is a vast and specialised bibliography related to those topics; here I will mention just a few of them: C. De Benedictis, Per la storia del collezionismo italiano. Fonti e documenti, Milan: Ponte alle Grazie, 1998; T. Bennet, The Birth of the Museum: History, Theory, Politics (Culture: Policy and Politics), London and New York: Routledge, 1995; P. Blom, To have and to hold: an intimate history of collectors and collecting, Woodstock: Overlook Press, 2003; K. Schubert, The Curator’s Egg: The Evolution of the Museum Concept from the French Revolution to the Present Day, London: Ridinghouse, 2009; A. Macgregor, O. Impey (eds.), The Origins of Museums: The Cabinet of Curiosities in Sixteenth- and Seventeenth-Century Europe, Oxford: Ashmolean Museum, 2017. M.C. Mazzi, In viaggio con le muse. Spazi e modelli del museo, Florence: Edifir, 2005.

[6] P. Linett, Spontaneous natural history collection sur la plage (2010), http://www.sloverlinettaudienceresearch.com/blog/2010/march/spontaneous-natural-history-collection-sur-la-plage (accessed: 22 July 2019).

[7] “The narrative nature of fetishism as a crucial motivation for collecting”: M. Bal, ‘Telling Objects: A Narrative Perspective in Collecting’, in: A Mieke Bal reader, Chicago and London, 2006, p. 277.

[8] W. Muensterberger, Collecting: An Unruly Passion, Psychological Perspectives, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1995.

[9] Bal, ‘Telling Objects’, p. 273.

[10] See: “We can talk of how the object is used, and how it conveys information about social characteristics, personal feelings and religious beliefs. This is to talk of the technomic, sociotechnic and ideotechnic functions of the object. The object’s meaning is the effects it has on the world”. Ian Hodder, “The contextual analysis of symbolic meanings”, S.M. Pearce (ed.), Interpreting Objects and Collections, London and New York: Routledge, 1992, p. 12.

[11] See: https://www.theuncomfortable.com/ (accessed: 22 July 2019).

[12] Ibid.

[13] O. Pamuk, The Museum of Innocence, New York: Knopf Doubleday Publishing, 2009.

[14] Ibid., p. 324.

[15] O. Pamuk, The Innocence of Objects, New York: Harry N. Abrams, 2012, p. 16.

[16] Ibid., p. 18.

[17] At the entrance of his house, he wrote: “Il Museo è qui” (The museum is here). See: V. Padiglione, ‘Cinque presenze della scrittura nei piccoli etnografici musei’, in: A. Andreini (ed.), La parola scritta nel museo: lingua, accesso, democrazia, Regione Toscana: Giunta, 2009, pp. 43–44.

[18] See: .museoguatelli.it (accessed: 22 July 2019). There are other similar examples, such as, to mention only some, the American Museum of Every Day Life in Vermont, and the Museum of the Everyday, situated in Auckland, New Zealand.

[19] “Alla base della predisposizione di Guatelli per il collezionismo vi furono la necessità di conservare, riutilizzare, riparare, creare nuovi oggetti utili da quelli ormai inservibili per il loro scopo originario, che era propria del mondo contadino, e la curiosità, l’attrazione che suscitava in lui tutto ciò che era frutto dell’ingegnosità, della capacità di arrangiarsi con pochi mezzi”, C. Ghirardini, ‘Gli strumenti musicali del museo Guatelli di Ozzano Taro’, Fonti musicali italiane, 11 (2006), p. 265.

[20] “[Guatelli] ricorre all’espediente estetico come mezzo per riscattare l’ovvio dall’ovvietà e proiettarlo nella dimensione dello straordinario, del museale”, O. Cavalcanti, ‘È del museo il fin la meraviglia’, La Ricerca Folklorica, 39 (April 1999), p. 86.

[21] Information about Norrbotten are mostly available in Swedish. See: Norrbottens synliga historia, vols. 1–2, Luleå 1992–1998. Svenska Turistföreningen, Lappland: Norrbottens Lappmarker Och Kustland, Nabu press 2010. Norrbottens museum and Luleå kommun have been publishing yearbooks since decades: they are also interesting sources to look at.

[22] Norrbottens museum’s policy: “Norrbottens museum is managed by Region Norrbotten. According to the programme, the regional museum will run its museum activities in all the municipalities, pursuing specific cultural goals in accordance with the tasks assigned by the State. Its fields of specialisation are archaeology, architecture and architectural preservation, collections, document archives, picture archives, museum education, cultural projects, art exhibition and programmes as well as photography and documentation”, http://www.norrbottensmuseum.se (accessed: 22 July 2019).

[23] See par. 1.

[24] The Inlandsbanan – in English “Inland line” – is the iron railway connecting Kristinehamn, in the south, with Gällivare, in the north, built during the first three decades of the 20th century. Currently it is working only in summer and it is mainly used as a touristic railway, https://inlandsbanan.se/ (accessed: 22 July 2019).

[25] Z. Svärdkrona, ‘Museum för myggbitna’, Aftonbladet, 24 July 2004, http://www.aftonbladet.se/ (accessed: 22 July 2019).

[26] ‘Gynnsamt för blodsugare’, NSD, 16 June 2012, http://www.nsd.se/ (accessed: 22 July 2019).

[27] Svärdkrona, ‘Museum för myggbitna’.

[28] ‘Myggmuseet flyttar från Avakadjo’, NSD, 16 March 2006; http://www.nsd.se/ (accessed: 22 July 2019).

[29] Nowadays, the museum is located along Gällivare museum’ staircase and it is not clearly illustrated nor contextualised.

[30] Stellan Mäki, ‘Duo: Han har traktorer i hundratal’, Norrbottens kuriren, 10 Feb. 2015, http://www.kuriren.nu/ (accessed: 22 July 2019).

[31] The significant amount of snow covering the open-air exhibition does not facilitate the visit.

[32] The founder counts around 2 to 3 thousand visitors per year, M. Engström-Andersson, ‘Här står tiden inte still’, NSD, 13 March 2018, see: http://www.nds.se/ (accessed: 22 July 2019).

[33] See: “Holgers traktormuseum erbjuder förutom traktorer en samlad jordbrukshistoria från Norrbotten”, Holgers traktormuseum, 18 May 2018, http://www.kulturmiljonorrbotten.se/ (accessed: 22 July 2019).

[34] See: “Klockan, som visas på Holgers museum, kommer från Pajala och tillhörde apotekaren Emma Pajala”, ibid.

[35] Engström-Andersson, ‘Här står tiden’.

[36] “Vad är roligast med att samla på klockor? – Det är när man får tag i någon klocka som inte fungerar och kan laga igång den”, ibid.

[37] Look for Holgers Traktor Museum on http://www.tripadvisor.se/.

[38] S.A. Simine, ‘Nostalgia and Post-Nostalgia in Heritage Sites’, in: Mediating Memory in the Museum, London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013, p. 54.

[39] “Nostalgia can only be evoked through a deliberate misreading, an evasion, a seduction and beguilement in which both sides (curators and visitors) collude in an idealized narrative”, ibid.

[40] “För att höja nostalgifaktorn är alla saker i fyndskicks dvs. orörda från tiden det begav sig”, http://www.patinamuseet.se/ (accessed: 22 July 2019).

[41] According to the Cambridge Dictionary’s definition: https://dictionary.cambridge.org/pl/dictionary/english/patina.

[42] “Museet ska väcka minnen till liv. Det är som när man lyssnar på en skiva från när man var liten och plötsligt får bilder i huvudet”, M. Ekman, ‘Samlingen blev nostalgimuseum’, Norrbottens kuriren, 6 Aug. 2013 (online).

[43] G. Kavanagh, Dream Spaces. Memory and the Museum, London & New York 2000: Leicester University Press, p. 20.

[44] A. Lidé, Stor samling av halmföremål blev museum, http://www.sverigeradio.se/ the (accessed: 15 Feb. 2019).

[45] G.J. Ashworth, B. Graham & J.E. Tunbridge, Pluralising pasts. Heritage, Identity and Place in Multicultural Societies, London: Pluto Press, 2007, p. 42.

ON THE DOORSTEP. THE MUSEUM AND ITS MILIEU

[1] P. Hetherington, Unvanquished: Joseph Pilsudski, Resurrected Poland and the Struggle for Eastern Europe, Houston: Pingora Press, 2012; W. Suleja, Józef Piłsudski, Wrocław: Zakład Narodowy im. Ossolińskich, 2006.

[2] W. Kalicki, Powrót do Sulejówka, Warszawa: Agora, Sulejówek: Muzeum Józefa Piłsudskiego, 2014.

[3] The blue shield in Sulejówek’s coat of arms refers to the colour of Piłsudski ‘s uniform, and the shape of the battlements to the insignia presented to the Marshal in 1920.

[4] Pierwsze dziesięć lat, Sulejówek: Muzeum Józefa Piłsudskiego w Sulejówku, 2018.

[5] P.T. Kwiatkowski, B. Nessel-Łukasik, ABC Badania publiczności w muzeum, Warszawa: Szkolenia Narodowego Instytutu Muzealnictwa i Ochrony Zbiorów, vol. 12, 2018, p. 5, https://www.nimoz.pl/files/publications/59/ABC_Badania_publicznosci.pdf (accessed: 19 July 2019).

[6] Over the past five years of the process of building relations between the Józef Piłsudski Museum in Sulejówek and its surroundings, the following people were involved in research: academic staff, university students on internships, the Research Collective and experts from the Association of Creative Initiatives “ę”, and in activities with the local community: artists and history enthusiasts from Sulejówek and historians, animators and educators involved with local history and participatory programmes. In total, 40 creators and 200 co-creators of participatory projects, i.e. Sulejówek residents, were involved in the implementation of five local programmes in Sulejówek in 2018.

[7] In 2017, the National Institute of Museums and Collections launched the programme Audience Surveys of Polish Museums. Currently, apart from the Museum Statistics project, it is the basis for the development of this kind of research in Polish museums and widening their impact on the development of individual institutions.

[8] P.T. Kwiatkowski, B. Nessel-Łukasik, Muzeum w społeczności lokalnej. Raport, Warszawa: Narodowy Instytut Muzealnictwa i Ochrony Zbiorów, 2018, https://www.nimoz.pl/files/articles/212/Raport_Publiczność_muzeów_w_Polsce_2018.pdf (accessed: 19 July 2019).

[9] An example of such a study was a nationwide project researching Polish cultural participants and audiences carried out in 2016 for the Museum of Polish History, the Museum of the History of Polish Jews POLIN and the Frederic Chopin Institute.

[10] The first study was carried out in 2013 in the form of research walks. A year later, in 2014, six focus group interviews were conducted with local community leaders (officials, employees of cultural institutions, teachers, members of non-governmental organisations, history enthusiasts, and culture animators; N: 31) and a special workshop “Why a Museum”, attended by young people from various educational institutions and its guests (N: 60). In 2015, a group of 20 students at Sulejówek undertook a quantitative study (a survey during the Long Night of Museums [N=200], and The Marshal’s Run [N=200]) and qualitative research (40 individual in-depth interviews with four groups of inhabitants: middle school youth, elderly people, city activists, parents of young schoolchildren). The results of these studies were presented at a conference at the M. Grzegorzewska Academy of Special Education in 2016.

[11] P.T. Kwiatkowski, B. Nessel-Łukasik, A. Pokrzywa, ‘Wykorzystanie konsultacji społecznych w procesie tworzenia modelu muzeum partycypacyjnego’, Kultura i Społeczeństwo, 59 (2015), no. 3, pp. 165–88.

[12] The last programme implemented on the basis of a local network of cooperation with these communities was the project ‘Carols from Sulejówek’, in which the museum was the main partner of the organiser, the Society of Friends of Sulejówek. At that time, 45 people were involved in preparing events, recording a CD and organising a concert for the residents, who became not only the co-creators of the project, but also its ambassadors. More information available at: http://towarzystwoprzyjaciolsulejowka.pl/koledy-z-sulejowka/ (accessed: 19 July 2019).

[13] In 2016, together with the Municipal Public Library and the Society of Friends of Sulejówek, the Museum established the Sulejówek Social Archives collecting various documents, photographs and accounts in digital form in order to gradually reconstruct the portrait of the town’s community over the various decades of the 20th century.

[14] More on the results of qualitative research conducted among local community leaders: Kwiatkowski, Nessel-Łukasik, Pokrzywa, ‘Wykorzystanie konsultacji społecznych’.

[15] The other two groups are: Legion families found thanks to The Legionnaire’s Census and teachers involved in the History Teachers’ Club at the Józef Piłsudski Museum in Sulejówek.

[16] During “Sulejówek Days” organised in June 2012, very few residents visited Milusin Manor to take advantage of the museum’s offer prepared especially for this event.

[17] Once the museum grounds were closed for the construction period, summer workshops took place in the Private Cultural Centre Sulejówek Miłosna, in the Painting Atelier of Jolanta Knap and in Wzorcownia Cafe. In 2018, ‘The Closet. 5th Summer Creative Workshops’ received a distinction in the Sybilla 2017 competition.

[18] More about the creation of a garden crane and the effects of individual creative activities carried out within the framework of the long-term programme, ‘Discover Sulejówek’ can be found at: https://muzeumpilsudski.pl/odkryj-sulejowek/ (accessed: 19 July 2019).

[19] In 2015, the Museum team visited the archives of the History Meeting House, the Grodzka Gate and the Borderland Centre, where they took a closer look at various solutions for creating archives about the history of towns and their inhabitants.

[20] Between October 2015 and June 2016, the museum organised nine meetings in the series entitled “My City. My Story’, inviting people involved in local history and social memory in other towns and cities (Milanówek, Legionowo, Warsaw, Łódź, and Krakow), and discussed the launch of a similar program at Sulejówek.

[21] The museum’s participation in the Mazovia Institute of Culture’s programme for cultural institutions created the basis for building a network of cooperation between cultural institutions at Sulejówek.

[22] Between January 2017 and the closing of the local weekly Lokalna in November 2018 as part of the ‘History from the Family Drawer’ series, a text by one of the city’s residents has been published each month.

[23] The project’s creators were inspired by Józef Piłsudski’s statement made in 1924 about the recording of human voice beginning with words: “I’m standing in front of some strange trumpet”. At the permanent exhibition of the Józef Piłsudski Museum in Sulejówek, this recording will be one of the artefacts presented in the ‘Sulejówek’ section.

[24] 160 people applied to participate in the program. 98 of them met with the project coordinators and recorded their memories of Milusin Manor. Out of the accounts collected in this way, 91 participants of the programme assembled their own mini radio plays. Many of them were presented during one of 18 radio shows about the project, later broadcast by the Polish Radio, Radio Dla Ciebie, and Radio Warsaw.

[25] During the project, three actions in the public space were organised during which radio broadcasts of the former pupils and employees of the municipal Nursery No. 1 were listened to.

[26] https://muzeumpilsudski.pl/wielosc-rzeczywistosci-o-nas-i-muzeum/ (accessed: 19 July 2019).

[27] An audience survey of the exhibition “Multitude of Realities” realized by Józef Piłsudski Museum, Warsaw, 2018, https://muzeumpilsudski.pl/wp-content/uploads/2019/08/Wielość-Rzeczywistości_RAPORT (accessed: 28 Aug. 2019).

CRACOW SALTWORKS MUSEUM AT WIELICZKA AS AN ACTIVE PLAYER IN THE BUILDING OF MINING HERITAGE COMMUNITY

[1] Dzieje żup krakowskich, ed. A. Jodłowski et al., Wieliczka: Muzeum Żup Krakowskich, 1988, 377 pp.

[2] J. Godłowski, ‘ Wieliczka – Protection, Museum and Commercialism’, in: D. Folga-Januszewska (ed.), Extended Museum in its Milieu, vol. 18 of the ‘Muzeologia’ publishing series, Krakow: Universitas, 2018, pp. 123–8.

[3] Zabytkowa Kopalnia Soli. Muzeum Żup Krakowskich – Wieliczka Ancient Salt Mine, Cracow Saltworks Museum.

[4] J. Godłowski, ‘Ochrona kopalń-muzeów na przykładzie Muzeum Żup Krakowskich Wieliczka’, in: ABC ochrony muzeów techniki, Szkolenia Narodowego Instytutu Muzealnictwa i Ochrony Zbiorów, vol. 11, Warszawa, 2017, pp. 43–8.

[5] J. Charkot, ‘Uwarunkowania historyczne i prawno-organizacyjne górniczo-konserwatorskiego zabezpieczania zabytkowych wyrobisk kopalni bocheńskiej’, Studia i Materiały do Dziejów Żup Solnych w Polsce, vol. 31 (2016), pp. 119–49, https://docplayer.pl/50615697-Uwarunkowania-historyczne-i-prawno-organizacyjne-gorniczo-konserwatorskiego-zabezpieczania-zabytkowych-wyrobisk-kopalni-bochenskiej.html (accessed: 19 July 2019).

[6] J. Godłowski, Introduction, in: J. Godłowski (ed.) Let’s meet and share our experiences. International Conference of Mining and Underground Museums, conference proceedings, Wieliczka: Muzeum Żup Krakowskich, 2018, pp. 19–21.

[7] Ibid., pp. 27–35.

[8] A. Garlicki, ‘Salt Mines at Bochnia and Wieliczka’, Przegląd Geologiczny, 56 (2008), no. 8/1, pp. 663–9.