Contemporary art is frequently made up of everyday materials and items familiar to normal, everyday people. As such, visitors are not always sure how to react to the art and oftentimes behave contrary to what we would wish. IMA has artwork composed of everything from TVs (Nam June Paik), projectors (Kara Walker), and common furniture (Vito Acconci, Bill Woodrow) to electronic signs (Jenny Holzer) and neon lights (Robert Irwin, soon). We even have flat art on the floor instead of on the wall (Adrian Schiess). Visitors want to sit on the furniture and play with the electronic equipment. They want to TOUCH the stuff, for crying out loud!

A couple of years ago, we had an exhibition by the Brazilian artist, Ernesto Neto, who’s work illustrates some of the many security-related issues that often have to be addressed with new art. One room of the exhibition was completely covered in red cotton fabric, with thick foam on the floor as a cushy surface to walk on. Inside the room was another conversation area surrounded by more hanging fabric, with chairs, suspended lights, and a notebook with a pencil on a string. There were also several red plastic balls and a giant beanbag chair in the room. It looked like a fantasy playroom, minus the Wii.

The installation was big and complex, and took several late nights for the artist, his assistants, and museum staff to complete. Adjustments had to be made to after-hours procedures to ensure that the workers could get around in the empty and secured building. Stuff had to be turned on, turned off, and unlocked, and Security officers had to be assigned to monitor the late-night activity. It messed with our routine and we’re all about routine.

The red material on the walls, floor, and ceiling looked cool but it completely covered the smoke detectors and sprinklers, not to mention the surveillance cameras and other security devices. Electric cords (heat-producing items) ran under the foam floor and plugged into the wall sockets. The cotton material was not flame retardant, and the foam beads in the giant beanbag were highly flammable. Needless to say, we had to do considerable prep work with local fire officials to placate them and ensure a safe environment for our visitors. I think I even mentioned bribe money at one point.

Once the exhibit was opened, explaining the level of interactivity to patrons was a consistent challenge. Neto’s intentions were for visitors to sit in the chairs, gently roll the balls around, and contemplate the crimson-draped environment. Visitors’ intentions were to set the kids free to play dodge ball in the big red rumpus room. “It’s artwork not a playroom,” was our usual approach. We had to remind many, many people not to throw the balls and not to jump onto the giant beanbag, which experienced daily blowouts due to unauthorized diving. And even though there was a blank notebook with an attached pencil, we discovered that it was not intended for patrons to actually jot notes or comments in the book. Color us confused.

So there you have it. Unlike hanging a painting on the wall, Protection Services plays a significant role throughout the process of acquiring, installing, and displaying contemporary art. Security staff gets to step up and help explain real-world application when curators (and artists) aren’t up on OSHA regulations, and gallery officers get to guide the visitor experience when patrons don’t understand why they can’t play with the stuff in the galleries.

That’s what makes museum security so very interesting. Well, that and all the cool spy stuff we get to use.