So, those of you who know me well have been wondering just how long it would take before I went on a rant. Here we go….
My husband and I have enjoyed visiting Washington, DC twice in the last two years. It’s cheap and easy to get to from NYC, you don’t need a car to get around, and the museums are free (relatively speaking – they are directly supported by our taxes). A year ago when we visited DC for the first time since childhood, we were disappointed that what we remembered as one of our favorite museums, the National Museum of American History, was closed for renovations. So, when we went this spring, we were eager to visit that museum and the Museum of Natural History, which we had also skipped a year ago because we were frustrated by massive numbers of school groups. (Okay, so neither of these are art museums…but bear with me for a few minutes, I’ll be making a point that applies to art.)
We were first shocked to find that American History Museum no longer actually displays artifacts – at least, not many. What we both loved about the museum as children was the sheer quantity of really cool stuff. Now, one or two objects might be displayed alongside large displays of “context” – signage with photographs and text, an interactive video, etc. – telling you about the importance of the artifact, suggesting how to think about it, and encouraging you to have a personal interaction with it. Although (according to their website), “The Museum has more than 3 million artifacts in its collection,” I’d be surprised if even 300 are actually on display today in the new, re-envisioned museum which is finding “new ways to present the objects of our nation's past.” Um…was there a problem with the old way?
Then we went to the Museum of Natural History. We failed in our effort to time our visit around the swarming schoolchildren and teenagers, so we stepped over and through them to get to the exhibitions we wanted to see. I remembered being gobsmacked, as our British friends would say, by the Hope Diamond as a child, and the rest of the gemstone collection, so we visited it.
The gems were incredible – but I was amazed to see that, instead of actually looking at the pieces, the schoolchildren (and their adult chaperones!) were instead compulsively photographing them, one after another, rushing as quickly as possible through the exhibition to be sure they got to see everything.
We had noticed this on our previous trip, too, at the amazing Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial, which is made up of numerous statues and other creative interpretations of FDR’s presidency. A group of pre-teens – with T-shirts from a Christian school, no less – raced through the memorial, posing with the statues for photographs, and never actually took time to see the pieces and be affected by their meaning.
Imagine yourself here…sitting on FDR’s knee…or petting the nice doggie….
To have an experience of anything – whether it is a historical artifact, a beautiful piece of human craftsmanship, or a tribute to a great man – requires attention. Attention, in turn, requires an absence of distractions (like multiple layers of “context”), plenty of time (which might require being selective), and focused sensory engagement (looking, listening, touching, tasting, smelling, or moving).
Has life started to move so fast that we are afraid we’ll miss something if we pay attention? Does interacting with something, inserting ourselves into it, make it “ours”? Are we so fearful that another beautiful experience will never come again, that we feel the need to capture and hold onto it, even if only in a photograph?
1 Corinthians 13:12: “For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.”
Perhaps, really attending to what we have here – even if it is only as a digital photo of the Hope Diamond is to the real thing – can lead us to a greater eagerness and hope and joy now about what we will experience then.
--Luann
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