Meg Liffick is the Assistant Director of Public Affairs here at the IMA. Meg and her team tightrope a difficult role between the curator and the museum-goer. The curator, as I understand it, is the head-of-household in the gallery and the coming/going/hopefully staying artwork is his or her children. It’s the curator’s job to know the artwork inside and out. It’s Meg’s and her teammates’ job to translate that expertise to a viewer who doesn’t know anything about the artwork or any artwork for that matter.

So how do they do it? How can someone be motivated to come to an art museum? Well, they have a few tricks up their sleeve.  Hard Truths: The Art of Thornton Dial is our most recent exhibition/huge marketing undertaking. Dial is an extremely bold artist. You won’t find political, social or historical commentary listed as any of the many materials Dial employs in his art, but they’re there. Because Dial’s work embodies such strong emotions, it’s the very kind of art some people are afraid of. It can make you uncomfortable—not because it’s vulgar or offensive–but because you might not know how to feel at first. We’re used to the art of the snap judgment, not the art of the deeply expressive Alabama welder.

Thornton Dial. Photograph by David Raccuglia.

All of our marketing materials (brochures, posters, radio spots, etc.) are designed here. “We do everything in-house. Everything.  That’s what’s special about the IMA—we all collaborate, no one does anything alone.” says Meg.

The marketing around the city for Hard Truths pushes the story or experience of the exhibition and Dial, himself. Meg explains, “Once they’re on-site we allow people to form their own perspective, but we need to give people a reason to come initially.  We wanted to communicate that these works were largely 3-D.”

"Stars of Everything," 2004, 98 × 101. 1/2 × 20. 1/2 in., Collection of the Souls Grown Deep Foundation.

The people involved with the IMA’s marketing have to create a way to honor and advertise the art, however, most -  if not all of them – don’t have formal art history training. Meg explains, “We don’t have art backgrounds, but we can communicate passion.” This exhibit is a completely different experience; one that not everyone would jump at initially. But it’s still relevant. It’s important to have some surprises in life, to (as our radio spots encourage) “Be amazed.” “Be inspired.”  I think Meg says it best, “Museums are here to fulfill the need that you have of finding spirituality, creativity and inspiration.”

I am neither knowledgeable nor affectionate toward brooches or foreign policy. This exhibition didn’t seem the one for me. When I flounced upstairs under my boss’s command I was more excited about flashing my new museum badge at the door than I was about swimming through Albright’s vast pin collection.  However, once I sat inside the exhibition to watch its looping video, Katie Couric started and concluded her interview of Albright three times before I felt good about moving on. She had me at hello.

The brooches seemed ridiculous at first, but became more and more intriguing as I made my way through, jotting down quotes, points of interest and trying to look particularly intern-y. Basically, the whole thing started when an Iraqi poem was published calling Albright an “unparalleled serpent.” Albright already owned a snake pin so she thought, “When we deal with Iraq, I’m going to wear the snake pin.” Once that gained attention Albright went out and bought more: butterflies, flowers and balloons for the good days; spiders, bugs and bees for the bad. Famously, President George H. W. Bush had just asked America to “read my lips” so Albright started telling people to “read my pins” when they asked what she was up to that day.

Serpent, designer unknown, circa 1860.

It was Albright’s ability to connect that won me over. She’s funny, tactful and bold. When negotiating with Russia over the anti-ballistic missiles treaty, Igor Ivanov looked at Albright’s arrow-like pin for the day and inquired, “Is that one of your interceptor missiles?” She replied. “Yes, and as you can see we can make them very small so you’d better be ready to negotiate.” In 1996 when two civilian planes were shot down by the Cuban Air force, she wore a bluebird pin with its head pointing down to honor the fallen pilots.

She has a pin made with pieces of a shattered “glass ceiling,” a clay heart her daughter Katie made when she was five, and a pin tearfully given to her from the family of a Hurricane Katrina victim. I began liking Albright and her exhibition more and more with each passing pin. But it was the process of falling for the exhibit that I appreciated even more than its displays.

Breaking the Glass Ceiling, Vivian Shimoyama (USA), 1992.

What makes us disinterested in something? As audience members — museum-goers or people in general–it is perfectly fine to experience something and decide you’re not a fan. But why is it so easy to “opt out” of certain encounters before they can be experienced?

I’d already been given two opportunities to experience Madeleine Albright and her pins. Only on the third time (when I was forced to go in the name of all that is interning) did I finally have the pleasure. Especially in museum life, because there is so much stimuli, it is easy (if not common) to snub a lot of things. I don’t have an art history background, but I know what I like and I thought I knew what I didn’t like—now I’m less sure. Maybe my mind is too narrow or maybe I’ve been had, but I feel that experiencing some sort of surprise, wonder, or even discomfort is all part of the museum experience and makes it beautifully unique.

This semester I am using my internship at the Indianapolis Museum of Art to take full advantage of the art world. Many people are intimidated by museums. They feel they’re an inadequate viewer or are simply overwhelmed by the content. Art shouldn’t come with baggage. So, my mission is to make art as approachable as possible by documenting the people and the craziness that dwell behind-the-scenes, slaving away for all that is museum life.

These moments of observation are significant in service to the mission of the museum, and can potentially provide a collateral glimpse into the inner workings of creative practice.

In the summer of 2009, I was fortunate to accompany Conservation Department colleagues, Richard McCoy and Kathleen Kiefer, on a visit to Georgia and Alabama. The purpose of my presence during the trip was primarily to create documentation related to the evaluation and condition assessment of Thornton Dial’s works prior to the Hard Truths exhibition.

We chose to drive down from Indiana, as I loathe flying with every fiber of my being, and it was an opportunity to immerse ourselves in all things Dial along the way…audio interviews, books for the non-driver, and music steeped in southern culture and history. Setting the proper tone and knowing your subject are so important for interviews and photography, and we spent our driving time together reflecting on one man’s life and how his art connects us all through his personal experiences and vision.

Our days in Atlanta, prior to the scheduled Alabama visit, were a great occasion to spend some quality time with Mr. Dial’s assemblages in person, and provided a precursory opportunity for us to experience the works of art that will inform the photography process.

The grueling temperature of the Georgian warehouse in July was a test of will, antiperspirant, and intellectual mettle, seemingly akin to a purification of the mind, body, soul, and spirit. The sweat lodge effect was less than ideal, but we clearly understood its role in the South and the appropriate lesson that was layered into our collective experience of Mr. Dial’s art.

The most provocative portion of our travel was the end of the week outing to Bessemer, Alabama to meet Mr. Dial…and the only opportunity we had to interview and photograph him at the Dial Metal Patterns facility.

There was no guarantee I would have the opportunity, but my hope was to photograph him in his studio for publishing and media projects related to the exhibition.

Accompanied by collector Bill Arnett, Kathleen, Richard and I made the three-hour drive with anticipatory glee, as this was the moment to apply our research toward meaningful exchange and content creation efforts.

Due to the heat, we spent fewer moments as a group in the main workspace of the open-air building, but I was able to capture images of Mr. Dial’s studio space, as well as details of his art supplies, studio floor, etc. – anything that speaks to the artistic process, the artist’s intent, and can inform a broader portrait of the artist himself.

Although I was initially disappointed with his absence in the studio, we instead found ourselves gathered in a small air-conditioned office. This was a more comfortable, intimate space for conversation and I was awed by Mr. Dial’s quiet confidence, patience with both our questions and periodic bursts of my flash unit.

What caught my eye immediately was the United States map on the wall and I made quick work to ensure this element was included in a series of images while Richard and Kathleen interviewed him.

A succession of images followed during this period – his hands, shoes, expressions, etc., were all significant in building a visual narrative for multiple purposes at a later date. A single image from this grouping appears in the exhibition catalog, rendered as black and white, and the entire set of images has been posted to the IMA Flickr page.

Our time in Alabama with Mr. Dial, his wonderful family, and Bill Arnett only spanned a few hours, but it was clear we were in the presence of an American treasure – a soft spoken genius of intellect and creative purpose. His truth is our truth, as difficult as it may be; it is a truth worth telling.

It was one year ago today that we launched the current version of IMAmuseum.org. We are admittedly still proud of our website as it took a large group of IMA staff six months of dedicated work to create what you see today. In a blog post, we introduced the world to the new set of features of the site. Today, we thought we would take a brief look back at those features and see what worked and what needed a little adjusting throughout the year.

Front page of IMAmuseum.org as seen on 2/1/2011.

With the exception of changing images in the blocks, the front page has seen virtually no changes during the last year. We originally toyed around with the idea of making the main banner image somewhat dynamic, with rotating images, but eventually opted to let it remain static until a true need arises.

The interactive calendar on IMAmuseum.org.

The calendar is among the most novel features of the website, providing a simple “month-at-a-glance” interface. This has seen little change in its first year as well. Museum calendars can be littered with complication, and we like to think this clean approach brings a sense of clarity to users.

The IMAmuseum.org collection search showing advanced options.

Another feature that has held up fairly well is the collection search. You can see the set of advanced search options in the screenshot above. While looking through search logs, we can see that most users don’t seem to use the “Department”, “Materials”, or “Object type” search filters. We have received a lot of positive feedback and seen moderate use of the slider tool for accession and creation date though.

Live search results when searching for "superbowl".

The Apple-style live search, sprinkled with a little bit of administrator search boosting, has proven extremely useful. We watch our website analytics heavily and try to understand what users are really searching for based on their terms. Using this information, we can boost specific content for specific search keywords. Above, you can quickly find our losing Super Bowl bet from last year. (Be sure to follow this year’s bet as well).

Three major exhibition sites created within IMAmuseum.org in the last year.

We decided that we would produce all major exhibition sites (commonly called microsites) under the IMAmuseum.org umbrella once we launched this new site.  The site was designed in such a way that dramatically different designs could be “sandwiched” between the header and footer. This can especially be seen in the new and visually impacting Thornton Dial exhibition site.

The IMAmuseum.org shopping cart.

I’ll admit. Up until this point I have been a little self-congratulatory. When it comes to the eCommerce features of the IMA website though, we have had to do a fair amount of updating and improving. I don’t know that any of us quite expected the amount of work behind running, maintaining, and supporting an online store. We also took quite a risk by providing the ability to purchase memberships, retail, tickets, and give donations within a single cart system. Here are some of the lessons learned from the first year:

• Applying membership discounts online is hard! We are still actively trying to make improvements to ensure members can quickly and easily log on to the site and have their account aware of their benefits. Building a system that is capable of respecting the many nuances of our specific membership rules is also a continuous effort.
• Users do not like to leave the site to pay. When we originally launched the site, all payments were made through Google Checkout, which involved the user leaving the IMA website to pay and then being redirected back to the IMA site. While we had good reasons for using this at the time, the frustration experienced by users did not account for those. We have since switched to a payment provider which allows users to checkout completely without ever leaving the website. Since this change, we have seen a huge decrease in the number of shopping carts abandoned.
• Have support processes in place. The software development team didn’t quite realize that they would be acting in a custom support role. While many of the features of the website “run themselves”, an eCommerce operation definitely requires the offline touch as well. We are just now getting formal support chains in place for online customers that need assistance with online purchases. This isn’t to say there wasn’t anyone to help in the last year. It was just a matter of bouncing around e-mail and involving too many people.

Let us know if there are more ways we can improve our site in order to better serve the needs of the online visitor.

Exhibition: Breaking the Mode

IMA Facebook Fan Page

IMA Blog

Exhibition: On Procession

AAMD Object Registry

Exhibition: To Live Forever

IMA on ITunesU

The Viewing Project

Exhibition: Power and Glory

Something new is coming in January!

What is your favorite of 2008?  Let us know whether it is something listed here or something completely different.

At the ISM, Footprints features taxidermy to die for. In an exploration of the natural history of what is today Indiana, stuffed ice age sabertooths cavort with stuffed otters, owls, fish and badgers, arranged in an unintentionally surreal tableau. This is installation art if I’ve ever seen it: a barrage of lives that were, juxtaposed for maximum emotional impact. Later in the show, there are piercing black-and-white photos of Indiana’s hunting history. The eyes of the hunters and their giddy hounds smolder with pride in front a wall of raccoon skins, circa 1935. Footprints has a high haunt factor.

The Harley-Davidson Museum, on the other hand, is pure exaltation. This cathedral to industrial design and American capitalism opened just this month after a multi-year planning process. Founded in 1903 by two pals (Bill Harley and Arthur Davidson) pimping bikes in a shed, Harley-Davidson is now global. Designed by Pentagram —the same firm the IMA is working with now on branding and wayfinding—the museum building is gutsy urban chic on a 20-acre plot in downtown Milwaukee, and a new biker mecca, no doubt.

Inside, there’s a motorcycle preservation lab, a stylistic gallery of engines and gas tanks, a social history of Harleys, and a slanted video screen with Evel Knievel footage. (The café’s corn-and-barley salad with tarragon pesto dressing was also super yum). Though the whole place could easily fall into the corporate propaganda category, I came away with an appreciation for the artistry of automotive engineering, an expanded concept of rugged American coolness, and a crush on the sexed-up architecture.

Both exhibitions raise questions about agendas in museums. Museums are by nature mediated experiences. How do artifact selection, building design and didactic language work on you? An object—an embarrassed-looking stuffed fox or a vintage Harley Electra Glide Sport—can leave you reeling.

We like to noodle on these issues at the IMA. The question of mediation or interpretation is especially interesting in the case of IMA’s Art & Nature Park slated to open in 2009. You can’t hang a label on a cloud. So we’re looking for ways to create dialogue between art and nature in visitors’ minds in surprising ways.

If you’ve had any memorable museum pilgrimages this summer, or meditations on museum objects with impact, do tell.

120 feet of words to be exact. Jack Kerouac captured the beating heart of a generation – one of wanderers, writers, and dreamers – with his iconic novel On the Road, written in one sweeping session of 20 days in the spring of 1951.

The single piece of paper (which is really tracing paper sheets taped together), ancient in its tea-like stain and torn edges, personal in its hand-written corrections, and inspiring in its fervent immediacy, is a testament to all that is, or was, “Beat” – a more free approach to self-expression, non-conformity, a bohemian lifestyle, among many other characteristics. The Beats wrote about sex, drugs, jazz – more than enough to shock our postwar nation’s elders and enough to invigorate their children. Kerouac compiled notes from journeys across America to create the closely autobiographical nature of On The Road, sometimes accompanied by anyone from Neal Cassady to Allen Ginsberg. Even though there was exceptional attention paid to Kerouac’s fortnight feat, the novel had been taking form long before the author’s almost overnight success, in between scribbling lines at Cassady’s and exploring each state he visited in great detail.

How did the scroll end up here? Aside the fact that it is on tour at museums and libraries across the country, Indianapolis Colt’s owner Jim Irsay bought the scroll in 2001 and Jim Canary of Indiana University has been its conservator since.

To me, the beauty of On the Road is its timeless appeal of the great American road trip we all want to take, with those fearless zealots that we call friends and the never-ending search for inspiration in a world that becomes all to familiar with daily life.

Who’s who in On The Road

Real-life person/Character name

Jack Kerouac / Sal Paradise
Gabrielle Kerouac / Sal’s Aunt
Alan Ansen / Rollo Greb
William S. Burroughs / Old Bull Lee
Joan Vollmer / Jane
Lucien Carr / Damion
Neal Cassady /Dean Moriarty
Carolyn Cassady / Camille
Hal Chase / Chad King
Henri Cru / Remi Boncoeur
Bea Franko / Terry
Allen Ginsberg / Carlo Marx
Diana Hansen / Inez
Joan Haverty / Laura
Luanne Henderson / Mary Lou
Al Hinkle / Ed Dunkel
Helen Hinkle / Galatea Dunkel
Jim Holmes / Tom Snark
John Clellon Holmes / Tom Saybrook
Herbert Huncke / Elmer Hassel
Frank Jeffries / Stan Shephard
Allen Temko / Roland Major
Bill Tomson / Roy Johnson
Ed Uhl / Ed Wall

On the Road Again with Jack Kerouac and Robert Frank is open at the IMA now through September 21.