With that, we are pleased to announce the new and improved online Shop Section:

With the launch of the online shop, users (that’s you) will now be able to purchase tickets and memberships right along side any books, cards, or jewelry you may decide to buy.  Whether you’re shopping the IMA Store, the Design Center, or the Greenhouse Shop, you’ll immediately receive a 10% membership discount on items when you are purchasing a membership.  If you already have a membership, you will just need to login to take advantage of the discount.

The shop also received a dramatic visual overhaul, bringing featured products and categories to the front.  And all based on the 960 grid system as previously discussed by Matt. Happy shopping!

Okay, two years probably seems like plenty of time if you’ve never written an institutional history before. But the truth is, two years is barely enough time if what you’re trying to do is provide a reasonably comprehensive look at 125 years in the life of a major museum, which is what those of us involved in the Every Way Possible project were charged with doing. And by two years, what I mean is that at the end of that time, there would be printed and bound books in hand—which meant, working backwards from that point, we actually had about 16 months (one year + four months, for those of you keeping score at home) in which to research, write and edit a 300-page book (as well as find, identify and write captions for more than 100 photographs). The rest of the time was dedicated to designing the book (no easy task in itself), then getting it printed, bound and delivered.

The fact that we accomplished it is a matter of pride for all of us involved. Furthermore, the fact that, in reading it through before it went to press, I discovered that what we had done was exactly what we’d set out to do—create a lively, readable history of the IMA—heightened that pride. It was no easy task, combing through 125 years of board minutes, letters, annual reports, and other documents, as well as talking with a variety of people who’ve been part of the IMA’s more recent history, with the intention of culling from all that material the type of information and anecdotes that would make an institutional history come alive.

However, what sometimes happens in the process of writing a book is that you lose track of your original intention, having become enamored of some new concept you arrive at—often as result of spending too much time mired in minutia that you’re convinced will be as fascinating to your readers as it is to you. Usually you’re wrong. And that’s when a book veers off course and becomes ever more difficult to steer in the right direction. Much to my relief, we managed to stay on course (after losing our way a couple of times), and in the end we did what we intended to do. (Quite an admission once you realize that authors are always the last to acknowledge that their books have any value other than as compost material.)

Here’s hoping you’ll agree when Every Way Possible, a history of the IMA, arrives at The IMA Store in December.