On Big Data and Museums

I just read something that aggravated me. While this is a thoroughly uncommon experience while scavenging the internet, I felt it merited a response. 

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ART FOR DATA'S SAKE

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The article argues that museums are integrating big data tools into museums in order to become more profitable and shift decision-making responsibilities from curators to visitor data. Not only are these assertions extremely flawed, but the underlying assumptions the author makes about the role of museums in society and the types of questions big data can answer show a lack of concern for underserved visitors and and inexperience using data to inform decisions.  

1. MUSEUMS ARE NOT THE CULTURE POLICE

Museums should not be in the business of dictating "the appropriate" way to experience art. The use of technology in our daily lives is inevitable. Instead of becoming increasingly dogmatic about how and when people can use these tools and chastising common behaviors like googling a term or taking selfies, museums should support visitors' desires to make exhibits informative and memorable. Visitors should have the right to experience museums and make-meaning on their own terms. 

2. THE TRADITIONAL "QUIET, CONTEMPLATIVE VISIT" DOES NOT WORK FOR EVERYONE

While there certainly are people who benefit from quiet, contemplative visits, that type of experience requires familiarity and comfort with art museums. Those people are typically well-educated adults. Art museum visitation, more so than that of other public institutions, skews heavily towards people with college or advanced degrees. 

It's not wrong to appeal towards a more academic crowd, but it's important to be aware of who can feel intimated or excluded. Audio tours, integrated technology, and yes, the "dreaded" screens do not only exist for museums to lure visitors into their gift stores; they provide necessary tools to make museums more inclusive of traditionally underserved audiences. Families, people with disabilities, non-English speakers, and less experienced museum-goers are just some of the groups that benefit from additional interpretive tools.  

If museums are only designed to support well-educated, affluent adults without children, they are undermining their missions and doing a serious injustice to people who stand to benefit the most from their presence.

3. "BIG DATA" IS NEITHER DEMON NOR PANACEA

As a new and trendy idea, "big data" is a concept that is either painted as a miracle fount of innovation or an early warning sign of inevitable robot take-over. 

The author seems to fear than an accurate understanding of visitation patterns will corrupt the curatorial process and turn art museums into profit mongers. I am not a quantitative researcher or statistician, so I'm not fully informed on the methods or modes of analysis the article referenced. But from my experience in visitor studies, I know that no amount of data can replace the creative process. It can answer certain kinds of questions about visitor behavior, but data alone cannot tell you how to design intuitive, meaningful experiences with art.

At its best, data can help museums ask better questions and identify meaningful opportunities for improvement. For example, if visitation data showed that visitors rarely spend time in a specific gallery, it does not mean the museum should eliminate it, it simply means they need to explore why this gallery is less successful and how it could be improved. If a survey on visitor demographics revealed that Hispanic visitors are disproportionately underrepresented, the museum could explore why that is and try to improve their relationship with those visitors. Or, if data revealed that an exhibit of an artist who used multi-sensory mediums was really well received by the autism community, the museum could explore setting aside special hours in the exhibit for families with autistic children or curate other experiences that serve those visitors' needs. 

Ultimately, big data and technology are value-neutral tools whose opportunities for improving visitor experience far outweigh their potential for exploiting profit. Access to new types of information cannot corrupt the hearts of museum employees. Museums exist first and foremost to inform, inspire, and preserve our cultural legacy. Data, no matter how big, will never change that. 

A systems approach to environmental design

I really appreciated this TEDTalk from Leyla Acaroglu. She dispells common myths about environmental designs by approaching it from a full product life cycle perspective. Assessing impact is not as simple as using "eco-friendly" materials because impact occurs on a systems level, as the by-product of production, transportation, consumption, use, and disposal. Each stage of this life cycle is full opportunities to innovate and transform the impact of a product. 

This talk reminded me of a prezi I put together before a GlobeMed rummage sale to explain how used clothing has relevance to global health. This prezi takes a tour through the production stages of a cotton t-shirt, highlighting important questions to ask about how this item is made, used, and disposed of from both an environmental and human rights perspective. 

Takeaways from Kennedy Center LEAD 2014

This week, I had the privilege of attending the Kennedy Center's Leadership Exchange in Arts and Disability (LEAD) Conference. I attended sessions on unviersal design/exhibit accessibility, ADA policy, audience engagement, and general best practices for operating an accessible organization. The ideas I was exposed to are still marinating in my brain and I'm excited to explore them more deeply in the way I approach my work in the field. But I thought it would be helpful to distill the most important concepts that resonanted across sessions:

If you're not sure something is going to work for the disability community, just ask. Use experts on your staff and consult regularly with a disability advisory board, or other visitors with disabilities to test concepts and exhibit prototypes at every stage. Working with PwD early and often can help your institution save time, effort, and money to make sure an exhibit works the the widest range of users from the get-go. Consulting PwD add values to your institution by not only ensuring your exhibits will be accessible, but also builds rapport and mutual respect between participants and staff.

Becoming an accessible organization is not a static set of programs and built features, it's a dynamic, on-going commitment to the needs of the disability community. Your relationship with the disability community should not end just because you've updated to ADA standards. Accessibility needs to be built into your core institutional values.

Accessible is not the same as inclusive. Just because a visitor can physically access something, does not mean that they are having the same experience. In the case of historical site/objects, physical access is not always possible, but built interpretation and interactives can help provide the same type of experience. In a conversation about how zoos/aquariums could be more inclusive for the blind, one attendee described his frustration at how the blind do not get to experience the animal in context: an eagle perched on a branch vs. touching a feather, and lion charging prey vs. petting a lion belt.

He said, "Try to keep in mind, it's common to get a pelt on a flat table.. but because most animals aren't flat, these isolated pieces do not make up an animal." and then comically noted, "You can't describe an American Bison in any way that makes sense to a blind person." Touch experiences are a great first step, but it's important to think more carefully about "what is a sighted person getting from seeing animals that a blind person is not?" How can we use tools such as audio describing and multiple layers of sensory experience to match this experience?

First-hand simulations and other illustrations of the visitor experience for a person with a disability can be valuable tools for building institutional support. For disability advocates who are trying to increase support within their institution, first-hand experiences, such as having staff and board members navigate their space in a wheelchair, or communication tools, such as experience maps or user experience models, can be helpful tools to build empathy and support for disability services. Make an appeal to colleagues' professionalism and desire to have their work communicated to as wide an audience as possible. 

People with disabilities are not a small, special interest group. Especially as the core visitors of many arts organizations are aging, it is important not to think of PwD as a small isolated group. Whether the disability was from birth, or as the result of aging or an accident, disability is something that can affect all of our lives. Most of us personally know someone who is excluded from fully participating in arts and cultural organizations as a result of their disability. We must advocate for public institutions to become as inclusive of the widest range of visitors as possible. Only then will we have a thriving arts/cultural sector that is a reflection of our diversity of human experience.

Going to be chewing on all these ideas and more for a while, but looking forward to keeping in touch with all the thoughtful people I met this week. It's upsetting to become more aware of experiences I take for granted, that are daily frustrations for PwD, but I'm excited about all the work this group of people is doing across the country.

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed, citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

— Margaret Mead

Kermit, Art, and Movement Building

My 2011 senior speech at the GlobeMed Annual Summit

If I had to determine the most important influences on my convictions as an advocate for social change from all of the books, characters, organizations, teachers, travels, and opportunities I have encountered, I would have to say, GlobeMed and Kermit the Frog. For those of you only vaguely acquainted with Kermit, he is the determined little frog at the helm of a bombastic band of Muppets. Though the Muppets face many trials and tribulations in show business, Kermit is always there with spirit and contagious optimism, inspiring his friends to carry on and build a movement of laughter, confidence, and playful anarchy among children of all ages. In the immortal words of Kermit,

“Well, I’ve got a dream too. But it’s about singing and dancing and making people happy. That’s the kind of dream that gets better the more people you share it with. And, well, I’ve found a whole bunch of friends who have the same dream. And it kind of makes us like a family.”

— Kermit

Although GlobeMed is not dealing with singing and dancing, I think that Kermit’s message can speak to all of us. We’re all here because we’re excited. We share a dream about a more equitable world; a dream that gets brighter and more real the more people we share it with. But unlike Kermit, we are making plans to pursue that dream through a unique combination of critical analysis, education, and partnership. GlobeMed’s ability to harness passionate optimism with critical action is the reason I have dedicated so many hours to this organization.

It’s the reason why I’m on a first-name basis with Northwestern’s event scheduling staff. It’s the reason why I have 9 different Gmail labels just for GlobeMed emails. It’s the reason why red and cream craft supplies have completely taken over my bedroom. And it’s the reason I cried for an hour the night we heard there would be a negative article about our fall fundraiser in our school paper. In retrospect, the article was not a big deal, but there’s was no telling me to calm down that night. So, GlobeMed has brought me some strife, but it’s also the reason why I can’t talk about my college extracurriculars without getting so excited that I start lisping, stuttering, and, on some occasions, spitting. It’s the reason why I have been able to participate in such meaningful dialogue on this campus and across this network of extraordinary people. It’s the reason I have had the opportunity to develop my interests within a supportive community. And it’s the reason why I have been transformed from a naïve do-gooder, motivated mostly by deeply entrenched Catholic guilt, to a passionate advocate of social justice, motivated by the beauty and power of collaborative partnership.

When I came to Northwestern as a freshman, I had no idea what was going on. The only thing I had ever considered doing with my life was singing opera. Weird life choice, I know, but I was born a hyper-active noise-maker. I learned to make noise on pitch and then just put one foot in front of the other until, 18 years later, I ended up a music performance major without ever really knowing why. Luckily, my interests began to evolve once I arrived at school. I was referred to GlobeMed by friends and professors at the end of freshman year, and decided to apply for the chapter. But, as some of you know, I was initially rejected from joining. Luckily, I’ve never been the type to ask for permission. I knew from my first impressions of GlobeMed, that I had a lot of learn from these people, so I started showing up to meetings anyway. My obnoxious persistence paid off because I learned more in that first year about the difficulties of responsible activism and the possible solutions for a better future than I had in my entire life preceding. I learned that when it comes to working in global health, nothing is more important than humility. It takes balls to put your ideas out there, but it requires something much greater to listen, to learn, to adapt, and to collaborate. I learned that you must have confidence and vision to relentlessly pursue your goals, but the humility to constantly adapt your means.

So, GlobeMed was already blowing my mind… and then came my first summit. I had never been a part of something like that before. The collective energy and drinking the KoolAid of global health equity imbued with such a sense of determination and conviction. GlobeMed had already changed my worldview, but the summit was when I realized the unique position we were carving out in this larger movement. It was when I realized the gravity of what we were doing and the call we were making to the people around us. For the first time, I realized that it wasn’t just isolated people idealizing a different world; it was something bigger and more powerful. And I was hooked.

That first summit reminded me of some other immortal words from Kermit,

“Who said that every wish/would be hear and answered? When wished on the morning star/Somebody thought of that/and someone believed it/Look what its done so far.”

— Kermit

We all thought of a future with more equitable healthcare and believed in our ability to make it happen. And look what is has done so far: we are 46 chapters and partners strong, advancing health, happiness, and equality from Nepal to Ghana to Nicaragua to Detroit. We have gone from idea to movement, and it’s still growing. This web of inspiration and activism is so beautiful to me, that I think it transcends the idea of a movement. I feel like I can’t call it anything less than art. I don’t want this to turn into an esoteric conversation on the definition of art- too many hipsters have stayed awake late into the night discussing this topic. But, in broad terms, I think art is something that inspires you to go through the world slightly different. Sometimes that means just recognizing beauty somewhere you wouldn’t have looked for it before, but other times, it fosters a complete transformation of your person and purpose, and inspires you to be better. This is undoubtedly how I would define GlobeMed.

People can spend their whole lives searching for something that inspires them to create, act, believe, and come alive, in whatever form that may take. I’m lucky enough to have found it in this community of individuals that combine all the hope of Kermit with all informed capability of pragmatists. The effect of all the events, the dialogue, the friendships, the GROW trips, the meetings, pale in comparison to the inspiration we give to our friends, chapters, partners, and community. GlobeMed is a testament that goodness, hope, and compassion, when met with pragmatic solidarity can inspire people to action. It’s an overwhelming form of beauty that is too vast to be contained by any museum. We are art; we are a movement.

Thank you for letting me be a part of it.

Maya Angelou on "Modesty vs. Humility"

In the wake of Dr. Angelou's death, much has been said of her considerable contributions as a literary figure, woman of color, and all around paragon of humanity. However, this quote, from a recent article on The Atlantic, has resonated with me the most. It's partially due to the humor of her stripper metaphor, but mostly because she so eloquently articulated the difference between these two distinct virtues, one which I find deplorable (modesty) and one which I find absolutely essential (humility). 

“I don’t know what arrogance means,” she said.  “You see, I have no patience with modesty. Modesty is a learned adaptation. It’s stuck on like decals.  As soon as life slams a modest person against the wall, that modesty will fall off faster than a G-string will fall off a stripper. 

Whenever I’m around some who is modest, I think, ‘run like hell and all of fire,’” she said. “You don’t want modesty, you want humility. Humility comes from inside out. It says someone was here before me and I’m here because I’ve been paid for. I have something to do and I will do that because I’m paying for someone else who has yet to come.” Dr. Maya Angelou

Humility means that you have respect for the people and circumstances that have shaped your path and privilege. You know what you can do and who has enabled you, but you also know what you can't, and none of this diminishes your accomplishments. It requires a capacity for deep listening and empathy. You're not just willing to listen to others, but you're deeply appreciative of their contributions and perspectives. 

Modesty, on the other hand, can be a way of deflecting or dismissing praise and accomplishments. It is a conscious affectation in response to expectations for passivity. Following Dr. Angelou’s example, I urge us to examine the social script of modesty from the perspectives of both gender and white privilege. There is a greater expectation of modesty for women than men. Women are expected undermine praise, rejecting the power that comes with command of desirable skills. Going outside the expected script, embracing a compliment instead of deflecting, can make men seem confident while making a woman seem narcissistic.

Modesty is also a function of white privilege. Deliberately undermining your own competence requires assurance that your power and position are not at risk. Not everyone can afford the social or economic consequences of making oneself smaller.

I urge people to stop perpetuating this type of forced modesty or expecting it in others. Create a conversational culture that accommodates confidence. Strive to understand both your assets and your limitations. Eschew forced modesty, but remain deeply appreciative of the world around you.