Behind the scenes

A few weeks ago, I attended a masterclass, organised by the nice people at Leicester University’s Museum Studies department, entitled “Design As Interpretation”. Exploring museum architecture and design, and their role in providing context for the interpretation of a museum’s objects, the masterclass attracted attendees from Norway, Italy, Spain, Hungary and Portugal, as well as the UK, and comprised museum professionals, educators, in-house designers, interpretation specialists etc..

The “tutors” were three architects from a US practice that specialises in museums and exhibit designs; a principal of Metaphor, who design exhibits in the UK and elsewhere; a principal at Land Design Studio, exhibition designers; and a principal at lighting designers Sutton Vane Associates. The theme of the week was using exhibit design to enhance the meaning(s) of an exhibition: the lead “tutor” used the term embody. In other words, how an exhibition is put together should embody the exhibition’s themes. This took in such ideas as audience definition, conceptual framework, narrative, procession and circulation, design vocabulary, materiality, interactivity, graphics, lighting, and media.

In teams of six, we were given three days to come up with a presentation proposing a change of use for a space (of our choosing) on the university campus. The changes proposed had to relate to a broadly-defined theme that was chosen at random; in our case the theme was “connections”. Using model-making materials, a laptop, digital camera, glue, scissors, paper and coloured pens, our team had to develop a proposal to remodel the space (we chose a busy lobby).

From our work, and through talking to the design professionals, it became clear that spaces (and especially, by inference, museum spaces) can be appropriately enhanced when the designers and museums professionals collaborate and share ideas. This is preferable to the scenario where an architect will design a building with little reference to the end users: the example of the National Museum Of Ireland in County Mayo was given, where the architects decided to install a large glass window in a section that ended up housing costumes, and which actually required low light levels. The huge window had to be screened off later.

If, therefore, the museum staff and the designers and architects of future East Lothian museum spaces could get a chance to meet and discuss, then this may serve to enhance the final result. With proposals to remodel two of our museums on the table, and plans to build a new museum space in Haddington under way, this was quite timely.

The Tuesday Lunchtime Natural History Half-Hour

My knowledge of natural history is not extensive. My background is in Egyptian Archaeology and then military and social history. So when Jo asked if I wanted to go and see the bittern at Seafield Pond, I said ‘Of course’. Mind you my knowledge of bitterns was limited to a) it’s a bird, b) it lives in marshes and c) they make a booming noise (which I have never heard). I had no idea what one looked like. Luckily Jo was able to show me a picture before we set out. So at least I knew I’d be looking for something brown with light bits. In amongst the reeds. Hiding.

So off we went. The pond has been drained to a very low level, splitting it into two sections. The site used to be the town dump, so there’s all kinds of interesting bits of rubbish poking up through the mud - broken pottery, bottles and bricks. Jo set up her scope on the ‘landbridge’ (or rather ‘mudbridge’) looking back towards one of the reed beds and after no more than a couple of minutes she had acquired the target. It was impossible to see with the naked eye from that distance, even when you knew exactly where it was, but through the scope… perfectly sharp. The bittern (which I guess is here over the winter) had the good grace to not just sit there doing nothing but to actually catch a couple of fish. Mind you, it happened so fast all I saw was a small splash, a flash of silver and the end of the fish disappearing into the bird. It was suprisingly exciting, perhaps because it has the additional attraction of seeing something that usually happens out of sight, or that is hard to get to see. I don’t think I’ll be becoming a twitcher quite yet though.

As it happens Jo did a dissertation on bitterns while working for her degree, and spent many hours observing them. Or rather many hours waiting for them to appear, and a considerably smaller time actually watching them. I may quit while I’m ahead with a 100% strike rate on bittern-observation.

Update: my visit was yesterday. Those who went today registered a zero on the bittern-o-meter.