In 2009, the IMA was awarded the prestigious Medal of Honor from the Institute of Museum and Library Services. In order to offer a more personalized view of each institution receiving the award, IMLS partnered with a non-profit group called StoryCorps. If you’ve tuned into WFYI in the mornings, you may have heard some of the three minute interview segments that have been recorded by StoryCorps staff across the country.

The idea behind the StoryCorps project is to capture interviews between people—any people, anywhere—and archive them in the American Folklife Center at the Library of Congress. This creates a firsthand account of contemporary American life, as told through the voices that make up our country. The range of topics is infinite, from tales about first loves and last moments, friendships and romances, memories of childhood and the bittersweet effects of aging.

In order to create a narrative of our own IMA history, we chose 18 people who have made an impact within the museum’s community. This group was but a small cross-section of individuals who have enriched our lives and our institution. Each person chose a companion to be their interviewer, and they came in, sat down, and started talking.

We didn’t want to stifle anyone’s creativity and dictate what the conversations should focus on, but being an art museum, we did ask that the sessions start with some account of a moment or event in the life of the interviewee in which art had a significant impact. Art was already the common thread shared by each of the 18 people who sat down to talk, so it wasn’t difficult to keep art as a central topic.

One example came from Dr. Jeffery Rothenberg and his wife, Joani. Jeff is an OB/GYN by profession but an artist by nature. He spoke of how his wife and family’s support helped him decide which role more importantly defines him.

Download audio file (jeff_rothenberg.mp3)
(audio clip courtesy of Long Haul Productions and StoryCorps)

Joani & Jeff Rothenberg

The payoff for me came each time a pair of people walked out of the recording “booth”. What I heard more than anything from these smiling and laughing pairs of friends, spouses, colleagues, mentors, and parents with their children, was that the chance to just sit and talk with one another was truly a gift.

That intimate setting gave them a chance to share things they’d never discussed before. How often do we have that opportunity in our daily lives? When was the last time you learned something new about someone to whom you’re already close?

So here is where I get a little teary-eyed, and the real value and meaning of this experience hits home. Among the people who took part in this project was Larry Hurt, a high school art teacher who had an extraordinary ability to connect with and inspire his students. Larry asked Phillip Lynam, a talented local artist and one of our IMA colleagues, to play the role of his interviewer. The two of them talked about how Larry had encouraged his students (Phillip among them) to find and freely express their talents and creativity.

Less than two weeks after they spoke with each other, Larry unexpectedly passed away. The shock of Larry’s death impacted many, many people, and his involvement throughout the Indianapolis community was made even more profound in his absence. Profound, too, was the gift of those 40 minutes that Phillip had to talk with his mentor and friend; to have a permanent record of Larry speaking about what inspired him and how he inspired others serves as a fitting farewell to a talented and beautiful person.

In our fast-paced world, we’re constantly bombarded with bits and pieces of information; rarely are we able to slow down and really listen to someone. For us, being able to welcome these people into our museum and ask them to share their stories was such a privilege. The Medal of Honor from IMLS is a great source of pride for the IMA, but for me, hearing these stories and knowing they will forever represent the heart and spirit of this museum was the real triumph. Pass the Kleenex.

I love it when you hear people from the dessert southwest say “Yeah, it was a 108 today, but it’s a dry heat”.  Dry heat my foot. At a 108 you can damn near start baking cookies. I just don’t think I’m a dry heat person or even a low humidity person anyway no matter how much I complain. I remember going to the Denver area for PPA a few years back. While there I didn’t notice the difference in climate and vegetation being all that dramatic. But on the way home? My lands! The farther east we traveled the more green and lush the world became. I could almost feel my skin becoming elastic again as it absorbed moisture right out of the air. So it puts me in quite a perplexing situation what with wanting heat but hating heat, wanting humidity but hating humidity, wanting to eat right but hating anything not made with butter, brown sugar, and salt. Ooops. That last one really has little to do with horticulture.

So what does one do when summer truly arrives? Well, we horticulturists and gardeners eventually take it all in stride and settle on a battle plan. Regardless of the actual temperature some sunscreen is a pretty good idea. I have a hard time remembering to put it on let alone reapply in two hours. Even the greaseless formulas make me feel sweaty already at 7:30 in the morning, a feeling that, believe it or not, is not the least bit pleasurable. But that’s the way it is. I was listening to Fresh Air yesterday and the guest said we need at least a teaspoon just to do the face and neck. If I’m like most people (I know, not likely) then we are way under applying. So now I will put it on thicker ‘cause I dread the thought of ending up with little chunks cut out of my nose or jagged pieces of my ears missing. Now isn’t that a pretty picture?

Sunglasses are essential anymore. When I finally bought my prescription Ray-Bans my eyes practically moaned in ecstasy. I swear I forget I even have them on. I try to remind myself to remove them when talking to visitors. I do not wear them at night. Nor would I wear them to indoor events the way so many idiotic celebrities do. It is unacceptable to wear sunglasses while presenting or accepting at the Oscars, Tonys, GRAMMYs, etc. All of you stop immediately.

A wide brimmed hat is handy for shading the eyes and face. Just ask Scarlett O’Hara. It’s not as good as an oak tree but unlike an oak tree it can move with you.

Water, for me, is like the sun block. I don’t think about it. Don’t get me wrong. Anybody that knows me knows I drink pretty much nothing but water. But I don’t carry a bottle out into the gardens often. When I do it usually comes back to the office full or nearly so. When it gets really hot, close to mid-90’s, then I will consciously drink more water making sure every half hour or so I take the time to open the bottle.

I can’t say enough about the relief of working in the shade in hot weather. Weeds abound in the shade same as in the sun, plants in the shade need mulch too, and since every garden looks better with a good edge, there is never a shortage of work needed in the shaded areas of the gardens. In the summer months shade work is saved for the afternoons when the sun is at its meanest.

And if the areas that need the most attention are in the sun – well, fiddle-dee-dee, that’s life. As God as my witness, I’ll never go without sunscreen again.

Recently, Bob Boilen posted an entry to NPR’s excellent All Songs Considered Blog where he provided readers with the first song of a mixtape, and asked them to add responses in the comments section, with each new post adding a new song to the mix in response to the previous post. Brilliant!

Let’s try to do something similar with works of art. I’m selecting the first piece in a kind of virtual exhibition. You pick the next one, and post a comment with information about the work, a link to an image of it, and a description of your reasons for selecting it (could be formal similarity/difference to the previous piece, subject matter, some biographical information that links the artist to the previous work, whatever…) Remember that you are responding to the last piece added in the comments section (although some larger themes might develop) and provide some description of why you are adding a particular piece to this chain o’ art.

I’ve chosen a piece from the IMA’s collection as a starting point: Kenneth Noland’s Fall Blues 1961-64.

It is a painting that I have warmed to over time, and one that I hope allows for a diverse set of responses. I’m interested to see where this game of curatorial telephone leads. Your turn…