Within These Halls

Ancient survivors are gathered protectively within these historic halls.

Made elite by the accident of their preservation, here representatives of earthly alien

   civilizations stand sentry;

Objects peculiar and enigmatic to the crowds of gazers who float directionless and dazed

   through the cool airy corridors and vaulting galleries.

In this exceptional place aloof remnants of remote pasts, though silent, actively seek

   to live again in mortal imaginations.

Most passing minds remain dark; the murmuring gazers are nearly all cursory

   in their explorations.

Pallid, rigored bodies of cold marble, bronze festering with inexorable green decay, and

   jagged shards—the orphaned red and black wreckage of once-elegant flowing clay lines—

Remain insensible and meaningless under fleeting, incurious glances.

And yet the survivors are not frustrated in their pursuit.

A skilled and studied few walk among the gazers, speaking history, sparking understanding

   and recognition and igniting new, living meanings in the minds of those who draw near.

The very breath of their words resuscitates these ruined remnants of past centuries, and the

   survivors breathe once more.

If only for a moment, the passions, beauties, terrors, and toils of a distant and dead antique

   live again.

AMW

August 2012

The Long Goodbye

Apologies for the lack of posts lately, but it's been a rough few weeks. As many of you already know, my teaching position at the Getty Villa was among those eliminated in the recent massive cuts to the Education Department at the Getty Museum. You can read more about the cuts here. My last day at work is in early September. Until then, I will continue to work and help train the volunteers who will replace my fellow educators and I this fall. Thus begins what I'm calling "the long goodbye." While there is something to be said for quick goodbyes, I plan to use my last bittersweet weeks here to savor what I've enjoyed most about working at the Villa. Although I will miss my co-workers dearly, I will also miss this beautiful place at which I've had the privilege to work these past five years.

I could offer my own comments on the Getty's decision to make such deep cuts to its education staff, but I can do no better than F. Robert Sabol, President of the National Art Education Association. He wrote an excellent letter to the Editor of the L.A. Times (a letter that--so far as I can tell--has yet to be published by the newspaper) expressing his dismay at the cuts, specifically the choice to replace professional educators with volunteers. Here is his letter, in its entirety:

May 7, 2012

TO:  Editor, L.A. Times

FROM:  F. Robert Sabol, President, National Art Education Association

RE:  Museum Education Cuts at J. Paul Getty Museum

For many decades, the J. Paul Getty Museum has played a leading role in promoting object-based learning through high-quality museum education programs and the professionalization of gallery teaching. The recent decision by President and CEO of the Getty Trust James Cuno to eliminate 19 positions in the Museum Education Department represents a significant step backward as well as a lack of understanding of the public value that museum educators provide.

Mr. Cuno's statement, "The stronger the collection one has, the better one can do everything else," is out of step with how the museum field and external environment are evolving. (The savings from the education cuts and staff reductions in other museum departments will make available $4.3 million for art acquisitions--a relatively small amount in today's art market.) Given today's competitive economic, cultural, educational, and leisure climate, many art museums are shifting from being solely "about something to being for somebody"--a concept first introduced by Stephen Weil, the late emeritus senior scholar at the Center of Museum Studies at the Smithsonian. While the collection and preservation of works of art are essential, for museums to remain viable in the future they must also demonstrate their value and relevance to their communities, which is precisely what museum educators are trained to do.

Art museum educators help students and adults see, experience, and understand works of art from a variety of time periods, cultures, and regions--and encourage lifelong learning in the arts. Through inquiry and dialogue, museum educators promote the development of creative and critical thinking skills and an appreciated of diverse cultures, ideas, and human experiences. To these important ends, numerous art museums employ professional gallery teaching staffs.

Many museums also rely on docents to lead tours and support the educational mission of the institution. Indeed, the thousands of men and women who volunteer their time provide an invaluable service for millions of visitors to American art museums each year.

However, professional museum educators possess extensive formal education, considerable professional training, and specialized knowledge; they are uniquely qualified to help the general public develop an understanding of the value of art and artists in society. They have a deep knowledge of individual works of art, artists, and art history as well as a solid grounding in education history, theory, and practice. Museum educators contribute important scholarship to the field and use that research to inform the daily work of museums. Indeed, Elliot Kai-Kee, Education Specialist in charge of gallery teaching at the Getty, recently authored with Rika Burnham, Head of Education at The Frick Collection, Teaching in the Art Museum: Interpretation as Experience, a pivotal book that The Art Newspaper calls, "Essential reading for anyone engaged in the interpretation of art."

When Mr. Cuno chose to assign the responsibility of gallery teaching to volunteers and mandated that such a program be up and running in a few short months, he undermined the Getty's educational mission and its longstanding commitment to visitor engagement and learning. It remains to be seen what vision emerges for the future of public education at the Getty. Works of art will always be central to the missions and purposes of museums, however, their continued relevance to individuals and contemporary society is dependent upon establishing meaningful connections with the people that view them, something that museum educators are uniquely trained to do.

New Challenges

Teaching a school group in the galleries.

Way back when, before my life was consumed by motherhood and the desire to use this space to keep friends and family updated on how Liam is changing and growing, I used to write about my work more often. Take, for instance, this post on my teaching philosophy, this post on how to look at art in a museum, and this post on things visitors do that annoy me as a museum educator. There was also this little gem of a post, relating the story of how one very young museum visitor was stumped by Heracles' pubic hair. As I scrolled back through my archived posts, I realized just how often I used to write about my job. A goal I have for this year is to start throwing in more work-related posts like I used to, if only to temper all of the mommy-related posts with a few stories about what it is I do when I'm not being Liam's mom.

As it turns out, the new year marked some significant changes for me at work. Up to this point the central focus of my job at the museum has been to teach--every thing from school groups and public programs in the galleries to gallery courses for visitors who would like to explore specific topics on the ancient world in-depth. However, beginning this month I began a new job coordinating teacher programs for our division. While I will still be teaching students and teachers, this new position is primarily a programming position; a major responsibility of the job is to generate programming and resources for teachers. This includes things like organizing educational workshops for teachers, generating curricula they can use in the classroom to teach their students about the ancient world, and getting involved with long-term projects dedicated to creating online and other technology-based resources for teachers. The museum is strengthening its school and teacher programs, so there will be plenty of work for me to tackle. What I find most exciting about my new role as project coordinator for teacher programs is the creative aspect. I will be creating programs and resources rather than just implementing them, which offers a new kind of intellectual engagement and challenges that my teaching position did not.

It has only been a few days, so most of this first week was spent getting organized and familiarizing myself with the current line-up of projects. Having taken this week to get my proverbial ducks in a row, I have no doubt I'll be fully immersed in my new role in no time. This new position also requires that I change to a Monday-Friday schedule--something I have not had for almost five years. During my time at the Villa, I've worked a Wednesday-Sunday schedule because teachers need to be at the museum on weekends to teach weekend programming. So, I've not  had a traditional working week in quite some time. Although there are things I will miss about being off on weekdays (e.g. fewer crowds at the store) I look forward to the change, since my regular days off will now be more in sync with Eric's and we will have more time off together. (Up to now, we've had staggered work schedules and as a result have only one day off together every other week.) Moving to a more normalized work schedule is great, but I will also be spending much more time at work. Not only will there be plenty of days that I will need to stick around after hours to oversee programs, I will still be coming to work on the weekend a couple of times a month to serve as the supervisor on duty for our department.

I'm sure it will be a little rocky and stressful over the next few months as I get used to my new job, but I am armed with a good sense of humor and the knowledge that this is an excellent opportunity to gain some new professional experiences and broaden my qualifications in a program area that is always in high demand on the museum education job market.

How Do You Look at Art?

These days with summer ending and school starting up again, it has been a little slower around the museum.  Last week I was giving a gallery talk to two visitors (yes, just two), and one of them commented that they were about to take a trip to Italy and asked, "Can you give us any tips about how to look at ancient art?"  It was an excellent question, given that not all museums have the kind of in-gallery educational programming you find at the Villa, and these visitors wanted to be prepared to get the most out of their experience on their own.

It just so happens that over the summer we educators at the museum had just had a discussion amongst ourselves on just that topic--how do you look at art?  We divided forces and each group came up with a "top ten" list of tips on how to look at art in a museum setting.  The list below, which I shared with those visitors that day, is the result of my group's efforts.  Naturally, every museum professional will likely have a different take on the subject, but I think the list below is direct and simple and therefore easily used.

1. Remember to read the label LAST.
2. Do not enter a museum or gallery with the intention to see everything.
3. Go to an artwork that interests you or attracts you.
4. Find the best vantage point (try different ones).
5. Take your time and challenge yourself to look longer.
6. How does it fit into the surroundings?  (Take a look at the gallery installation and what other artworks are on display in the same gallery.)
7. What details draw you in?
8. What is it made of?
9. What do you understand and what don't you understand about it?
10. Be open to silence and conversation--balance your own reflection and sharing your thoughts with others.

Keep in mind that these are just suggestions, not hard and fast rules, but they will get you off to a good start if you're interested in getting a little something more from your next museum visit.

Teaching Philosophy

Recently I was asked to write a teaching philosophy for a staff ed. session on teaching theory at work.  "Staff ed." sessions are the museum's version of internal professional development exercises.  While I'm all for professional development, I confess that interminable discussions on museum education theory are, for me, the professional equivalent of eating my brussels sprouts.  Maybe it's my Midwestern no-nonsense practicality, but I find that you improve your skills at a task by doing it, not by talking about doing it.  Theory has its place, of course, and can be used as a tool to improve an educator's teaching skills, but I see many educators fall in love with theory, discussing theory, and listening to themselves discuss theory.  When this love affair with theory takes over, these discussions quickly descend into intellectualizing theoretical sessions that are ultimately of little or no practical use.  

My view on the matter is that, at best, education theory is plain common sense, and often is not all that helpful to me when I'm in the trenches teaching everyday.  In any case, I don't think of myself primarily as an educator--I think of myself as an historian who makes history accessible to people and enjoys sharing it with them.  So, having no formal training in the field of education, and having absolutely no idea how to go about writing a personal "teaching philosophy," you can imagine with what wild ecstasy I greeted the assignment.  However, rather than take the assignment as an instruction to clumsily try and pretend to an education background I don't have, I decided to sit down and just bang out my opinion of what it is I set out to do when I get up in front of a group of people in the museum.  To my surprise, I knocked out a document that I rather like, so I thought I would share it with you.  


Whether it would meet the approval of someone with professional training in education, I don't know--but it spells out my genuine take on how and why I approach talking to the public about ancient history the way I do.  Not art, mind you--history.  I am firmly in the camp that ancient artifacts are first and foremost historical and archaeological evidence.  Thinking of them as "art" prioritizes aesthetics over history and archaeology, and when you get down to is really just us re-appropriating these objects for our own purposes in our modern culture and society.

******

The core of my teaching philosophy is this:  to make the ancient world meaningful to my audience by demonstrating how the distant past is relevant to our world today.  And, in making the past relevant to contemporary society, to create a genuine appreciation of ancient history in people and provide them with a new perspective on the past.  Ultimately, when a person’s time with me is done, I want her to leave thinking about the past in some way that is different than the way she thought about it before.  For example, a key idea I always emphasize and try to help the public understand is that ancient “art” in many cases was not created as “art” but was created to be functional.  By bringing this important concept to their attention, I want to not only get them to understand the original functional nature of the artifacts we are discussing, but to open their eyes to the fact that the objects we spend so much time looking at and admiring on an aesthetic basis were often not created to be viewed as art or to be seen by mass audiences.

Good teaching should have more to do with questions than with answers.  The value of a history teacher lies in her ability to engage her audience with the material and encourage them to develop their own questions about the objects, the way they have functioned through time and how we continue their stories by finding our own meaning in them, the past, and how museums such as the Getty Villa present the past to the public. When I stand in front of an audience, my goal is not to weigh their thinking down with names and dates that in themselves offer no thoughtful insight into the ancient world, but to provide a social and historical context for the objects around them and show them how to use factual information to understand history and ask questions about why and how things happened the way they did.  

Yet teaching history must be more than just posing questions and encouraging the audience to pose them.  I must also use the artifacts and other historical evidence to show people how they can be used to support answers to our questions.  The public often approaches history with the idea that it is about learning the “truth” of what "really happened" in the past, but I set out to express to them the idea that history and archaeology are disciplines marked by contested theories and interpretations which are always open to reevaluation  and refinement based on new evidence, new perspectives, or new understandings of existing evidence. 

As an historian, I also consider it my responsibility help the public learn how to think independently within the museum—discouraging them from floating through the galleries as a passive learner and instead encouraging them to actively engage educators, labels, and other didactic resources, whether by questioning or critical thinking.  This is a skill which must be developed through example and practice, and it is my hope that my teaching helps people to refine their existing skills in this vein, or to begin in that moment to develop them, and thus create visitors who are more alive to the possibilities of educational experiences in a museum.  In this way, I endeavor to teach visitors how to take ownership of their own learning experience.  Therefore, to transform a visitor’s learning experience in the museum from a passive to an active one is another key component of my teaching philosophy.

Through formulating questions, articulating ideas, close looking, and discussion, the ultimate goal of my teaching is to create the framework for a rewarding intellectual exchange and a meaningful learning experience in the museum.  As is the case with so many aspects of the human experience, the ideal museum learning experience is something that escapes strict definition--but, like pornography, you know it when you see it:  that tell-tale spark of recognition, or discovery, or even revelation in the eyes of your audience.  For me, those moments when I have managed to share my love of ancient history in a meaningful way with others are the moments that motivate me in my teaching and make what I do a worthwhile professional pursuit.

Letters from Students

I think most people would agree that it is always nice to get thank you notes. One of the most entertaining aspects of my job is getting to read the thank yous that sometimes come in from students I taught during their visit to the museum. Teachers tend to turn the project into an assignment that helps students with their letter writing skills, so many of the thank yous arrive grouped in packets of letters from students. I thought I would share some selected excerpts with you from the most recent packet of letters I received--reproduced here just as the students wrote them.

"Dear Ms. Amber...When we were talking you just told us to be quiet and you didn't get mad at us even a little bit. All of the stuff was cool. I hope I could come again."

"Dear Amber...My favorite thing was the beautiful garden and the pond with the fishes. I learned how to make mummys, and how Hercules restled the tiger and got his skin. The visit to the museum helped me because it reviewed the stuff that we learned in the classroom."

"Dear Amber...Thank you...you took us to see the culpture of the sirens. You showed us the shandalers with Mudusa next and after that you showed us the mummy. Finally you showed us that hallway were you let us sit down. I also learned how Mudusa and how see became that beast. This helped me understand some of my questions like do gods and goddesses have emotions. The answer was yes."

"Dear Ms. Amber...Thank you for helping us out! Thank you for taking the time to read my letter, time being limited and there being so many other letters. Thanks again, and hopefully I'll be back soon!"

This one, I think, is my favorite:

"Dear Ms. Amber...Thank you so much for walking us threw the Getty Villa museum. I enjoyed going their very much. I hope you have a nice life."

What Do You See?

Even before I started teaching at the Villa, this statue (pictured below) was always one of my favorite artifacts in the museum. Now I don't have any sort of attachment to the Neolithic period, but I do think the glimpses into the distant past that artifacts like this one offer are rather fascinating. It's also somewhat liberating to talk about artifacts from a time for which we have no written records. The lack of sources from these ancient people explaining or offering us insight as to who or what this object represents means there will always be a mystery about it. Given that freedom, I usually kick off my conversation with visitors by inviting them to take a thoughtful look at the piece and ask, "What do you see?" Frankly, I think the answer is pretty obvious--just show this to any junior high kid and see what kind of reaction you get--but in most cases people are shy about discussing sex with a group of strangers. They all want to have their curiosity satisfied, but no one wants to be the one to ask.

So, what do I see? I see a hermaphroditic deity. The museum curators have chosen to identify this figure as a "fertility goddess"--an identification that focuses on the double entendre of breasts and vulva in the center of the statue and the squatting position of the legs. (Way back when, women squatted to give birth. Really, if you think about it, squatting makes much more sense--you want to work with gravity, not against it by laying on your back.) However, the curatorial explanation of the object as well as an academic article I found which specifically discusses this statue completely ignore what I consider to be the patently obvious phallic head and neck of the statue. If you take those features into consideration, I think it's a lot harder to think of this figure as simply female. Just taking into account what we can see, I think it's quite probable this deity was meant to represent both male and female. If it is the case that this statue is meant to represent, not just the creative power of the female, but the combined creative power of male and female, it likely would have made the image a much more potent and effective one from the perspective of its ancient worshipers.

Of course my analysis of this prehistoric object is just as subject to debate as that of the curators, but at least it doesn't ignore the obvious!

Cypriot fertility deity, 3000-2500 BCE

Another Rainy Day in L.A.

Even those of you outside of the L.A. area have probably heard about the heavy rain and winter storms hitting the west coast right now. The rain in the last few days has been heavier than I've seen here in quite some time. I usually enjoy the rain--you start to miss weather when you don't really have it anymore--but southern California just isn't prepared for such heavy rainfall. Everyone is always fixated on the prospect of an earthquake, but SoCal is relatively prepared for that eventuality. If you really want to mess the place up, just dump more than five or six inches of rain on the place all at once. This week's storms have done just that, and things have gotten a little crazy. Yesterday two trees fell on the ranch house that sits behind the Villa. Luckily no one was injured and the damage was mostly cosmetic. Apparently the rain-saturated soil and incredibly high winds blowing around yesterday caused the trees to fall. As I understand it, those trees were planted in containers and hadn't developed a very deep root system yet, so they were particularly vulnerable to the wind and rain. This morning a huge crane was brought in to remove the debris before we opened. Thunder, wind, rain, hail, and tornado warnings--feels like home to me!

One unforeseen benefit of the rain has been school group cancellations. Angelinos are so unaccustomed to rain that many of them just hunker down when it starts to pour, and many schools decided to cancel their scheduled visits to the museum. Fewer teaching assignments doesn't bother me at all, but it seems silly to make the kids miss out on a field trip just because it's raining. It's not like this is an open-air museum! Still, I think it's worked out for the best. In the past two weeks we've had half our teaching staff decimated by illness, so it's given those of us still standing a bit of a break this week.

In spite of the fresh start to the new year I've not gotten back into a habit of posting here regularly. My delinquency is in part due to being busy both at work and at home, but also because things have been kind of boring around here lately! It seems like all I do is work, eat, and sleep. Things will be picking up in the coming weeks, though, so I'm hoping to get back to making at least one post a week. Next week Sabina (another teacher) and I will start to work with another sixth grade class through our multiple visit program. It's always an adventure to actually go out to a school and work with students on their own turf, so I'm looking forward to meeting the new class. The program consists of a classroom introductory visit, three lessons at the museum (separate visits), and then a final visit to the classroom when we give the kids a chance to handle some ancient artifacts. It sounds a little crazy, but it's a much less hair-raising experience than you would think. If you don't believe me, check out this post on our last artifact handling visit.

That's all for now, but you'll hear from me again soon.

December Update

I was back at work this week after a short but sweet visit home to Illinois, where Eric and I spent a few days visiting my family. It was good to spend some time at home, but now it's back to the daily grind. My work schedule doesn't really change over the holidays. While most museum staff get the holidays off, the Education department must provide staff to run the public programming during what often turns out to be our busiest two weeks of the year. These holidays in the trenches, so to speak, are probably the hardest part of the job to accept and get used to. Just like everyone else I want to have some time off to enjoy the end-of-the-year festivities, but duty calls. Still, on the positive side, it does feel good to be a part of other people's time with their families and friends and maybe help make their visit to the museum memorable. These days, for people working in the humanities, it also feels good just to have a job. There are a lot of people who aren't so lucky, and I do my best to remind myself of that fact when I'm at work wishing I was someplace else.

Hopefully these last few days of the year will be relatively uneventful and quiet. Well, maybe not so much quiet. A couple of Eric's buddies surprised him with a home theater system for Christmas. Now my living room is home to two speaker tower monstrosities and something called a subwoofer. I enjoy surround sound as much as anyone, but I'm not a fan of having to accommodate the requisite equipment in my home. Also, now when Eric plays "Modern Warfare 2" on his Xbox, it sounds as if a tactical assault is going down in our apartment. Sigh. Ever the long-suffering wife, I endure, knowing there will come a day when Eric's boyish enjoyment of this fancy noise-maker on steroids will be seriously checked.

I've been following the news reports of the hefty snowstorm hitting the eastern U.S. this weekend. It always seems a bit odd during the winter months to hear people talking about snow and ice while L.A. enjoys 70 degree temperatures, warm breezes, and sunshine. I've always said one of the few perks of L.A. is the weather this time of year. For all of you who will be freezing your patootie's off this winter in less temperate regions, I'll be thinking of you as I'm cruising up the street with the window down under the sunshine and palm trees!

My family: Eric (my husband), me, Dad, Mom, Erin, and Ethan (Erin's boyfriend)

Sisters

Cousins: Erin, me, Lacy, and Heather

Artifact Handling

This fall our school program has been piloting a "multiple visit" curriculum, in which we work with one class of sixth graders over the course of two classroom visits and three visits to the museum, each session focusing on a different type of ancient art (frescoes, mosaics, and marble). Last Wednesday was the culmination of the program, and we returned to the school in order to facilitate an artifact handling session. Yes, that's right--we let sixth graders handle two thousand year old objects. With an introductory lecture on how to handle fragile objects, why it's so important to wear gloves, and the strategic placement of pillows, it's actually not as insane or nerve-wracking an experience as it sounds.

While some museums have what are called "study collections" that are kept for scholars and students to study and examine, we did not bring artifacts from the museum. It turns out the Los Angeles United School District (LAUSD) has what they call an "Art and Artifact Collection" that they were willing to make available to the students in our program. They provided a selection of artifacts (mostly Roman terracotta oil lamps, strigils, and styli) and we facilitated the handling and talked to the students about the objects and how they were made and used in the ancient world. It was really a pretty neat experience. I know the kids were jazzed about it, although I don't think they understood just how special it was that they had this opportunity to handle real artifacts.

A student and I examine an ancient Roman oil lamp. 

Below is a picture of the oil lamp my group of kids worked with--they were given a worksheet of questions to answer, which prompted them to try and figure out on their own what it was made of, what it might have been used for, and who might have used it. The kids in my group were very sharp. They eventually figured out our object was a lamp made of clay. Not too bad for three sixth graders who just started studying ancient history this year! The credit goes to their teacher, of course, but I'd like to think all of the time they spent in the galleries with educators over the course of their three visits at the Villa made a difference too.

Roman terracotta oil lamp with an image of the goddess Minerva. 

Villa College Night '09

Live music in the Inner Peristyle

Anyone who has ever had the chance to attend an after-hours party at the Villa knows that as beautiful as the place is in the daylight, nighttime transforms it into an almost magical place. This week we hosted our annual "College Night" event, attended by faculty and students from universities all around Southern California. Giving tours on College Night is always a fun experience, because the students are there to have a good time and they come into the galleries with a laid back curiosity that makes for great discussion. Aside from offering tours of conservation labs and various galleries in the museum, we had lots of great food and drinks, live music by the Boulder Acoustic Society in the Inner Peristyle garden, and historical reenactors from Legio VI Victrix wandering around the museum portraying Roman soldiers and civilians (including Pliny the Elder and a medicus equipped with a real wax tablet) in full costume and gear. It was a long work day, but a very enjoyable evening.

Glass and gem handling gave guests a chance to learn how ancient glass was made and how engraved gems were carved.

Two Legio VI actors, a soldier and this betrothed, wandering the Outer Peristyle garden at sunset.

Me, giving one of my gallery talks on the "mystery of the red shroud mummy."

The Inner Peristyle after dark.

I missed Pliny the Elder, but I did manage to get my picture taken with two of the soldiers from Legio VI. It was a photo opportunity not to be missed!

Looking vs. Seeing

Every so often in my time as a museum educator I have had the opportunity to teach blind and low vision groups. The most recent opportunity came this summer, when a group from the Braille Institute in Santa Barbara came to the Villa. Sadly, in the past blind or low vision groups have not found the museum a very accommodating place. People can be impatient with blind visitors, perhaps not realizing at first that they cannot see. Other problems can occur with seeing-eye dogs, if security officers are not properly instructed in how to deal with them. Sometimes there is also an attitude that those without sight cannot really enjoy a museum which, after all, is a place designed to offer a visual experience. How could someone without sight truly "experience" such a place?

In preparation for this group's visit, one of our education coordinators worked closely with a representative from the Braille Institute in order to prepare for their visit. I have to say, Eidelriz did a wonderful job. This group was composed of artists, so for our lesson we planned to discuss ancient painters. Eidelriz began the lesson with frescoes in the theater gallery. As she talked about ancient frescoes, she passed around "touchables" such as lime putty (in a plastic baggie), small examples of modern frescoes, paint brushes, and minerals for the group to handle. Touchables are what you might call Eidelriz's specialty, so she was eager to see how our touchable collection could help improve the museum experience for blind and low vision visitors.

Eidelriz in the museum with the group

The fresco portion of the lesson went off like gangbusters, and we moved on to my part of the lesson--discussing painted sculpture. I chose to talk about our little three-foot marble sculpture of Venus in the Basilica, because there are still traces of pigment within the folds of her drapery, and we know she was painted using the encaustic technique (mixing hot wax with powdered pigment). Not only was it a different medium, but it was a chance to discuss a different painting technique. The only significant difference in my conversations with blind and low vision visitors compared with sighted visitors is my effort to over-describe the object we are discussing. Once I described the statue, we passed around beeswax and discussed how it was used to make paint, and I told them more about the history of the sculpture. Also, when preparing for the lesson the day before, I had the idea of encouraging the group to touch the marble columns on either side of the statue. Those columns are just part of the architecture, so they are fair game for touching. By touching the columns, the group got a good idea of the cool, slippery smooth surface of marble and why encaustic painting might have been a good technique for the artist to use with that medium.

Thanks to the touchables, the time in the galleries went very well. Afterward the group gathered in the education studio to do some painting of their own. Eidelriz created a small workspace for each person, taping paper to the table and using masking tape to create a border they could feel framing the area they were to paint. Each person also received paint brushes and a palette (i.e. a paper plate). Each pile of paint was labeled with a different number of dots along the edge of the plate, enabling the blind painters to distinguish between the different colors.

Inside the Education Studio

At the end of their time in the studios, we asked some of the participants the question I posed earlier: How could someone without sight really experience a museum, a place primarily designed to be a visual experience? One woman in particular had some great things to say. She said everyone has a different way of learning and experiencing the world. "I can't see, but I'm still learning something. And maybe one day things will be better and we can feel everything."

A painting made by one of the participants

Touchable Venus

The newly installed "touch statue", depicting the goddess Venus leaving the bath. It is a replica of a work by 19th century sculptor Antonio Canova.

Ever since the Villa reopened in 2006, the Education department has been working to develop a "touchables" program at the museum. The idea of touchables in art museums has been around for awhile, but it has gained real popularity in recent years. We have been incorporating touchables like paint brushes, sculpting tools, minerals, and so on in our daily teaching for some time now. This month we raised the touchables program to a whole new level with the installation of a "touch statue"--that is, a statue that visitors can touch. The "touch statue," of course, is not an artifact but a modern replica. Actually, if I want to be strictly accurate it is a replica of a replica of a replica. Did you get that? Yeah, me neither. When you say it out loud it sounds like you need a little flow chart to understand it. Let me attempt to clarify: The statue is a late 20th century CE replica of an 19th century CE copy of a 2nd century CE Roman copy of a 4th century BCE Greek sculpture of the goddess Aphrodite. In other words, we copied an 18th century sculpture that was a copy of an ancient Roman sculpture that was a copy of an ancient Greek sculpture.

I hope that makes sense. Anyhow, this touchable statue was recently installed in the West Belvedere at the end of the Outer Peristyle garden. Part of the fun of working in a museum is getting to see what goes on behind the scenes, so I thought I would share a little of it with you with a look at the installation of the new touch statue.

Venus in the stone laboratory, being stabilized & secured for her move to the West Belvedere.

Moving through an underground passage at the museum.

A careful ride down the ramp in the Outdoor Classical Theater.

Down another ramp into the Herb Garden.

Through the Herb Garden.

Finally, at the West Belvedere.

As you can see from the pictures, the Villa site isn't exactly designed for easy installation of objects outside of the museum galleries. Venus' journey to the West Belvedere was cautious and slow. Part of the motivation of placing her so far from the museum itself is to make sure visitors view this location as totally separate from the museum space, where touching is most definitely taboo. Keeping it out of the museum galleries helps to ensure that there is no (potentially confusing) exception to the strict "do not touch" policy inside the museum. The idea we hope to communicate is that the this is a space outside the museum where touching is allowed.

Now, maybe you are less cynical than I and this thought has not occurred to you up to this point, but I have to say I was pretty amused that a statue of a nude woman was chosen as a "touchable" statue. I mean, is it just me or is inviting people--ahem, especially men--to touch a statue of a naked woman just inviting trouble? (One word: Breasts.) And the fact that Venus happens to be posed in such a way to suggest she's trying to cover herself from the viewer only adds to my opinion that the choice of this Venus as the touch statue is just all sorts of wrong. I would love to say I trusted visitors not to be lewd, but given the irresistible combination of being able to touch and take pictures, I know better.

I'm sure this won't be the last you hear of the Villa's touch statue. Once the programming around it gets going there will be stories to share--of that I have no doubt.

A Very Special Top Ten

Interacting with the public on a daily basis can be a pleasure or a pain. So much of the pain side of things could be eliminated if more people practiced a little courtesy and consideration. Recently I decided to attempt to define proper museum behavior. Below is the list* that emerged from my exasperation--

Top Ten Ways to Not be a Pain in a Museum Educator's Ass:

10. Do not stand in front of someone in a wheelchair. Just because someone is in a wheelchair does not mean he or she is a piece of furniture.

9. Do not assume your speaker is a docent volunteer or a student.

8. Do not ask the speaker, "So, is this a good tour?"

7. Do not interrupt or ask a question in an attempt to show the group what you think you know. We are not interested in contests and will be happy to simply take your word for it that you know everything.

6. Do not arrive late and then ask for a recap when the speaker asks if there are any questions.

5. Do not ask about other objects in the gallery when they have nothing to do with the subject of the conversation.

4. DO NOT TOUCH.

3. DO NOT TOUCH THE EDUCATOR.

2. If you are listening to an educator in the galleries, listen--do not stick your nose in a label and read. Chances are the educator knows more than the label does.

1. DO say thank you when the tour ends.

Keep in mind this is only the top ten--but it will get you off to a good start.

*With thanks to my colleague, Kristen, who helped me decide which items truly belong in the top ten. The sarcasm, alas, is all mine.

The Chimaera of Arezzo

Chimaera of Arezzo (pictured here on display in Florence), Etruscan, ca. 400 BCE

"The Chimaera...a raging monster, divine, inhuman--a lion in front, a serpent behind, a goat between--and breathing fire. Bellerophon killed her, trusting signs from the gods."

Homer, The Iliad

The Chimaera of Arezzo exhibition is, for me, one of the most anticipated exhibitions of the year. Unlike many other special exhibitions at the Villa, I had opportunities to attend scholarly talks on this show long before it opened, so I had a great preview of what it would be about. Also, it is a pretty big deal that Italy has allowed such a nationally treasured artifact to travel to L.A. This exhibition marks the first time this Etruscan bronze sculpture has ever traveled to the United States. On top of all of this, the great myth attached to the Chimaera of Arezzo is a wonderful tale that appealed so much to people over the centuries, the story eventually made its way into our modern Western culture and iconography (albeit in a somewhat modified form). All of these elements make this installation one of the most interesting and memorable I have yet seen at the Villa.

Homer's account (dated to the 7th c. BCE) of the myth of the hero Bellerophon and the chimaera is the first evidence of writing we have from ancient Greece. The fact that this myth shows up so early in Greek literature suggests this was both an antique and popular tale, even then. The myth tells how Bellerophon, mounted on the winged horse Pegasus, is able to fly above the Chimaera beyond the reach of its flaming breath and cast down a spear from above to kill the monster. The image of Bellerophon flying above the monster, spear at the ready, was depicted on everything from large vases to miniature oil jars to engraved gemstones. These containers and luxury items were traded throughout the Mediterranean world, carrying the story of Bellerophon and the chimaera with them.

Calyx krater, Faliscan, ca. 370 BCE

Thus, an antique tale from Greece made its way west to Italy, where Bellerophon's defeat of the chimaera became the most commonly depicted heroic triumph. The Ertruscans in particular were quite taken with the imagery. The most stunning representation of the chimaera we have from Etruria is the Chimaera of Arezzo. The statue is imposing by itself, but scholars think it likely was only part of a monumental offering made to a religious sanctuary. Most representations of the chimaera include Bellerophon flying above, mounted on Pegasus, ready to launch his spear and kill the monster. Scholars believe the Chimaera of Arezzo must have once been paired with an equally impressive bronze sculpture of Bellerophon on Pegasus, which would have been displayed above it. Although the Chimaera was found in a votive burial with numerous bronze statuettes, no evidence of this sculpture was found, so its existence remains only an educated guess.

If an artifact has a documented history, I find visitors are just as curious about the "modern" history of an artifact as they are about its ancient context and history. As it happens, the modern history of the Chimaera of Arezzo is one of the most well documented of surviving ancient works of art. It was discovered near the Italian town of Arezzo in 1553 and quickly became the crown jewel in the antiquities collection of Cosimo I de Medici, Grand Duke of Etruria. He saw the sculpture as a magnificent testament to the legacy of Etruria, which he claimed for himself. (Naturally!) Cosimo saw himself as Bellerophon and referred to his enemies as "chimaeras." That is, he intended to defeat his enemies as thoroughly as Bellerophon had dispatched the chimaera. Cosimo's adoption of the Chimaera into his collection made the sculpture famous, and ever since it has been one of the most celebrated works of art from Italy's ancient past.

St. George and the Dragon Detail of an Illuminated manuscript, French, about 1410 CE

One of the aspects of this exhibition I like is how it brings the myth of Bellerophon and the Chimaera full-circle. Though the myth declined in popularity during the Roman imperial period, the myth endured in western areas of the Roman empire--and even in some eastern areas, as recent archaeological discoveries have shown (see the illustration of the mosaic floor, below). By the early Christian period, images of this pagan myth were sometimes even paired with Christian symbols. The Medieval image of St. George impaling a fire-breathing dragon seems to be a derivation of the Bellerophon myth transformed into more Christian terms. That is, good, represented by St. George, defeats the dragon, which can be seen as a representation of the devil. This is illustrated in the exhibition by the display of an illuminated manuscript (see above) from the Getty Research Institute's collection. The Villa curators never miss an opportunity to deepen and broaden special exhibitions with manuscripts from the GRI. The GRI's holdings are truly vast, and I am glad our curators here use them so effectively.

A less tangible issue addressed by the exhibition is why the popularity of Bellerophon eventually declines in Greece but becomes exceedingly popular abroad, especially in Italy. One scholar has suggested that Bellerophon becomes an anti-hero in Greek ideology because of his tragic end. In the accounts of Homer and Hesiod, Bellerophon was brought to ruin by Zeus for having the hubris to mount Pegasus and attempt to fly up to Mt. Olympus in order to join the gods there. In Italy, on the other hand, it seems there was no strong central ideology influencing the perception of Bellerophon. Instead, religion in Italy was more of a private, individual practice, and so Bellerophon became venerated as one who could travel between worlds (that is, the earthly realm and the divine realm) and could therefore mediate with the gods on behalf of the dead. This idea is illustrated by a gold ring in the exhibition, which scholars suggest was created specifically to be worn by a deceased individual in the hope that Bellerophon would intercede on his behalf before the gods and aid him in his journey to a life after death.

Roman mosaic floor dating to ca. 260 CE found in Palmyra, Syria

As much as I like this exhibition, I am disappointed in one respect. The mosaic floor shown above, found in Palmyra, Syria, is not a part of this exhibition. This in itself is not a major disappointment, since curators are often unable to get loan approval for every object they want to include from other museums. Also, it occurs to me that in this case, the floor is possibly still in situ, right where the archaeologists found it. Even so, instead of leaving the object out completely, curators chose to display a scale facsimile of the mosaic. What bothers me about this decision is that the number one question I get from visitors is, "Is that real?" By that they mean, "Is it really ancient or is it a copy?" One of the most shocking things I learned when I stepped into a museum gallery as an educator is that many, many people think that museums only display copies of works of art. I am happy to change their perspective and assure them that when they are in a museum they are looking at the real thing, unless it is specifically stated otherwise on the label. Now, of course the facsimile in the exhibition is marked as such, and it is a great illustration to view in the context of the exhibit. Still, I can't help but be a little disappointed that this time, when a visitor asks me, "Is it real?" I have to say no.

Be that as it may, this is an exhibition not to be missed by Southern California museum goers. The Chimaera alone would be well worth the drive to Malibu, but when you add the Golden Graves of Vani to it, you have an irresistible pairing. There will be more from me on Vani in a later post--I am still slogging through the archaeology of the site, so I need a bit more time before I can have a decently informed opinion.

As Summer Was Just Beginning

I know I have been delinquent with my blog updates the past few weeks, but in my defense, I have been rather uninspired and there is not much going on at the moment. By this time, of course, summer has officially begun. Eric just began teaching his course on ancient Egyptian religion at UCLA and I will be wrapping up school group lessons tomorrow. (I have declared it an official day of celebration.) The summer months will still be busy, just with different kinds of distractions. Beginning next week I will have no teaching assignments on Wednesdays, which will give me the luxury of one day a week to research and prepare for upcoming projects. For example, I am preparing a course comparing nudity in the ancient Near East, Egypt, and Greece. Also, two special exhibitions are opening at the Villa this summer: The Golden Graves of Ancient Vani (July 16–October 5, 2009) and The Chimaera of Arezzo (July 16, 2009–February 8, 2010). I have about a month or so to study up on both of those exhibitions so I can be ready to present them to the public by the time they open. I am very much looking forward to both of these shows. They will both have an archaeological bent to them compared to other special exhibitions I have taught here, which will make them particularly fun for me.

In other news, we are now a two car family again. You will recall some months ago I reported that the engine of Eric's old beater overheated and seized, leaving him stranded on the 405 freeway. Since then he and I have been negotiating the use of our one remaining car as best as we could--and not doing half bad, all things considered. Anyhow, last week a friend of his bought a new car and very kindly sold his old one to Eric for a price he could afford. So we now have two cars again, and what a luxury it is! I will enjoy very much not making grocery trips on my day off with my little push cart and waiting on the bus in order to get around and get errands done.

With all that in mind, you could say things are going pretty well right now. We have no extraordinary plans for summer since we usually take our vacation in September, after Eric is done with his summer teaching. What we will be doing is taking advantage of the awesome SoCal summer weather, enjoying time with friends and family, and going to lots of summer movies. I have learned to make the most of my unusual work schedule and have got myself into the habit of seeing movies on Mondays, when everyone else is at work. It is a lot of fun to kick back with your soda and popcorn and see a movie in an almost deserted theater. Once you know how great it is without the crowds, it is almost disappointing to see a movie any other way. Also, at the end of the summer I plan on escaping the city for a visit home.

But, for now, there are miles to go so I had better get to it. Time to get busy learning the stories revealed by the golden graves of Vani.

Summertime in the Villa's Herb Garden

Thank You Card

Today I received a very cute thank you card from one of the school groups I gave a lesson to recently. My favorite comment is scribbled to the right of the amphora: "Thank you so much. I am smarter having listened to you."

These cute and sometimes creative thank-yous from school groups always make my day. There are so many times that you can feel frustrated and discouraged and frazzled as a museum educator, it is nice when someone takes the time to say "thanks." It really does mean a lot when someone takes the time to let you know they appreciated your time and effort. Saying "thank you" is one of the first lessons we learn as kids, but it is amazing how many of us forget about it when we're grown up. Thankfully, in my line of work I am reminded every day just how far a simple "thank you" can go.

The Lampbearer

Recently a long-term loan from the Museo Archeologico Nazionale in Naples, Italy went on display at the Getty Villa. Known as the Statue of an Ephebe (youth) as a Lampbearer, this bronze statue was discovered in Pompeii in 1925 buried in a well-to-do private residence. Being modeled in the style of ancient Greek sculptures of beardless young men, he holds an ornate candelabrum, and so likely served as a functional decorative object in the home.

At the time of the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius in 79 C.E., the house was in the process of renovation. The Ephebe was found in a room off the atrium, apparently being stored out of the way with other bronze decorative pieces while the renovations happened. Traces of a protective cloth which had been draped over it are visible on the shoulders and buttocks of the sculpture--apparently the heat of the blast seared the cloth to the statue. Considering he went through a catastrophic volcanic eruption, the Ephebe survived in amazing condition. He survives with his original marble base, and most of the glass paste that served as inlay for the eyes remains. Three workers--perhaps those completing the renovations--were not as lucky. Their skeletal remains were discovered in the front hall of the house.

As always, I am happy to have a new object to work with in the galleries. He's a great object to use in talking about ancient bronze sculptures because he is so well-preserved. The fact that you can still see most of the glass paste inlays for the eyes is wonderful. So many visitors are unaware that ancient sculptures had inlaid eyes. It is an understandable mistake since in many cases the inlays do not survive. It is always fun to have an object to show them that so clearly illustrates what I tell them about the original appearance of the sculpture.

Also, modern conservation has revealed that the lips and nipples are made of copper and that can now clearly be seen. Bronze sculptors often made use of different colored metals to add life to their sculptures, but often the metals darken so much overtime they are not easily seen with the naked eye. But again, in this case, you can clearly see where copper was used instead of bronze.

I have already used the object several times in my talks, and I look forward to including it on my "Roman Connoisseurship" focus tour this summer. As an object that served to decorate the villa in which it was found, it is the perfect object to use when discussing Roman collecting habits.

Since beginning to discuss this object with visitors, some interesting points have come up. First of all, with a date of 20-10 B.C.E., the Ephebe was going on one hundred years old by the time Mt. Vesuvius erupted in 79 C.E. This suggests a longevity for the piece and makes me wonder--was it passed down to its last ancient Roman owner, or did he purchase it himself for his collection? Also, the label identifying the statue in our gallery has a very neat-looking image of the statue in situ (as it was found), buried to its knees in detritus. The picture is definitely one that captures the archaeological imagination, but it's been brought to my attention that damage to the sculptures knees would not have allowed it to stand in such a way. That being the case, this photograph was very likely staged when it was taken in 1925. This is not unheard of--there are several examples of staged archaeological photographs. Academic veracity often fell victim to appearances.

Statue of an Ephebe (Youth) as a lampbearer

Roman, ca. 20-10 B.C.E.

I look forward to getting to know my friend the Lampbearer better over the next months during his stay at the Villa. He will reside here for about two years, then he will return home to the museum in Naples where he will be on display not all that far from the house in which he was first discovered.