MUSEUMS AS PORTALS BETWEEN WORLDS?: THEMES IN FANTASY AND FICTION

Museum Mysteries | Jefimija Vujcic

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Over this past Reading Week, I finally picked up one of my highly anticipated books, an historical fantasy titled The Invisible Life of Addie La Rue (2020) by V.E. Schwab. Looking for a break from coursework, I was amused to find a museum catalogue entry on the second page of the book! The notion of the museum – connected to themes of material memory, the act of collecting, and what it means to be (un)able to leave a mark – was recurring and so intriguing that it led to me writing this article.

A lot of us in the MMSt program are probably aware of some fiction prominently featuring museums, or can recall Night at the Museum (2006) as at least one example. The film’s premise is that the museum comes to life at night, prompting security guard Larry to quip, “Isn’t everything in this museum supposed to be, you know, dead?” Watched with a critical eye, the movie brings up questions around the purpose museums are meant to fulfill and how that purpose is viewed by the public. Also sticking out to me from childhood are The Lightning Thief (2005) and The Red Pyramid (2010). Both by Rick Riordan, the opening scene and the inciting incident respectively take part in museums. Museums set the necessary stage for these books, wherein tales from mythology are in fact true, bridging the past and the present.

Source.

For me, a few more recent reads drive home the metaphor of museums as doors or portals in fiction. In the urban fantasy Neverwhere (1996), there exists London Above (the world we know) and London Below (one just beneath it). These two worlds intersect and blur throughout the story, with one such memorable scene taking place in the British Museum. Moreover, one of the least likeable characters of the novel has big ambitions in the museum field. To this end, she constantly drags the main character Richard along museum-hopping. This leads Richard to regretfully conclude that, “the great art treasures of the world all blur into each other after a while.” With the foregrounding of a fantastical element, the mundane is brought into even greater focus. This is also the case for Metropolitan Stories by Christine Coulson. Read by the Museum Studies book club back in the summer, this magical realism collection sheds light on the eccentric staff who keep the Metropolitan Museum of Art running, often in very unexpected ways… Again, here is the idea that museums house objects that can bridge divergent times, worlds, and realities.

In addition to a number of other fantastical and adventure stories, many museum-related literary fiction titles have stuck out to me over the years. The Goldfinch (2013) begins at the Met and the main character’s connection to one particular painting from the Dutch Golden Age forms the core of the novel. From Dubravka Ugrešić’s experimental work Museum of Unconditional Surrender (1997) to Heather Rose's performance art-inspired Museum of Modern Love (2016), museum-related fiction takes advantage of the cultural baggage surrounding museums, both real and imagined.

The exterior of the Museum of Innocence, Istanbul, Turkey. Source.

The transformation of a fictional museum to one existing in real life is the journey of Nobel-prize-winning author Orhan Pamuk’s The Museum of Innocence (2008). Set in Istanbul in the 1970s, the story focuses on the everyday objects collected by one man after a devastating heartbreak. Off the page, Pamuk had begun collecting items in the 1990s. The building which came to house them was given the title of European Museum of the Year in 2014. Far from just a marketing gimmick, this “museum, based on a novel, based on a museum” now exists and serves to start thought-provoking conversations about the city’s history.

Beyond providing a few more books to add to your reading lists (even more can be found here and here), I hope that this look at non-academic literature can spark useful critical consideration of how museums are (mis)interpreted and where all our preconceptions come from. In Emily St. John Mandel’s pandemic-focused novel Station Eleven (2012) and All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr (2014), museums are projected to have lasting significance even in futures following apocalypse and devastating war. In our present, perhaps this literary reflection would assist us in creatively imagining a better future for museums. As one museum professional writes in a blog focusing on decolonization and Afrofuturism, “By reframing a museum as a portal, there is the potential for us to see ourselves as time travelling inventors capable of creating a different world.”

“IN THE HOLIDAY WORLDS OF OLD": EERIE FESTIVE TRADITIONS

 Museum Mysteries | Jefimija Vujcic

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Even with the holidays upon us, we’re in the middle of the most horrifying time of year for students – finals season! Putting (extremely) corny jokes aside, there are probably a few things that come to mind when putting ‘horror’ and ‘holiday’ in one sentence. Perhaps one is the seasonally ambiguous classic animated film A Nightmare Before Christmas (1993), a childhood staple set in the “worlds of old.” Another may be A Christmas Carol (1843) by Charles Dickens, in which a grouchy old man is convinced by three ghosts to change his ways. While we will return to both these influential pop culture moments, I must first set the supernatural scene.

This time of year has long been associated with the paranormal, long before the “magic of the season” came to mean all things wholesome, baking cookies, and watching cheesy movies. Unlike in the western Christian tradition, in Slavic countries and others in Eastern Europe, the 12 Days of Christmas – or from the 10th until the 19th of January (since Christmas is traditionally celebrated for three days) – are known as the “unbaptized days.'' It is thought that in this period, the “barrier between the two worlds has fallen and the boogeymen and other dangerous creatures – vampires, goblins, fairies roam through the human realm.” Even though many traditional beliefs associated with this time are no longer practiced, Christmas celebrations in these areas are still steeped with ritual, some of which are certainly creepy at first glance. 

During the koleda (or kolianda) festival,  the koledari or carollers – one of which is the “grandfather,” another the “bride,” and various animal-human demons or those in disguise – bring luck to a village’s households by ‘chasing out demons’. It is typically celebrated in the lead-up to Christmas or during the unbaptized days in countries such as Serbia, Bulgaria, Northern Macedonia, and Russia. | Source

Other traditions of ‘Scary Christmas,’ include the following: spider decorations based on a Ukrainian folk tale, the hiding of brooms so that witches can’t use them in Norway, Krampus in Germany and Austria, and many more.

Now, the question you may be asking is where do museums factor into all of this? Should museums try to talk about this particular aspect of the holidays? Well, given that I have written this blog post, I’m sure my opinion is clear. This is a great opportunity for us to discuss some really cool concepts – including the practice of ethnography (how were these seemingly static ancient folk beliefs systematically collected) and religious syncretism. The great news is that some museums do already touch on Scary Christmas.

Source.

This topic has been taken up by Canadian museums such as Eldon House, which hosted an exhibition on the topic, the Dalnavert Museum, and the Oshawa Museum, which annually hosts a holiday event featuring the sharing of ghost stories. In pre-pandemic days, Lamplight was a truly magical event and it was always exciting to see the historical houses lit up at night; these days it takes the form of a whimsical short film. These museums all follow the Victorian tradition of the “witching time for Story-telling,” as Dickens put it in one of his many ghostly tales. 

Knowing all of this, Tim Burton’s 1993 film seems all the more clever as a way for us to look closer at this apparent mixing of traditions, or, rather, the reimagining of old customs. It also makes me wish I could have seen this 

2019-20 exhibit at Las Vegas’ Neon Museum or this one running through the new year at the Hilbert Museum in California – both featuring some of Burton’s artwork, including from The Nightmare Before Christmas!

In any case, I think museums, where the past also meets the present, are the perfect places from which to consider these “unbaptized days” and other similar holiday traditions which see the blurring of our realm and that of the ‘otherworldly’ one. As the Dalnavert Museum summed up so beautifully, this season tends to capture “memories, customs, and traces of the past – our personal pasts, our cultural pasts, and our historical pasts, all of which fuse to form the traditions that mean Christmas to each of us.” No matter what you’re celebrating, even just the break from classes, I hope it’s holly, jolly, and… spooky. 

Source.

SAD, SICK, AND SENSATIONAL STORIES: A REFLECTION ON THE ROLE OF HORROR MUSEUMS

Museum Mysteries | Jefimija Vujcic

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What do haunted places, clowns, microbes, breakups, cursed objects, and supernatural creatures all have in common? Besides the obvious creepy factor, they have also all had exhibits or entire museums dedicated to them at one time or another. Horror museums are a phenomenon widely discussed in movies, television, YouTube videos, news articles, and tourist websites. While they are perhaps little understood, beyond the sensational aspect, they do help us grasp the reflective role of museums in our societies.

A model of the bloodsucking creature Yara-ma-yha-who (originating among indigenous Australians). / Bloodsuckers: Legends to Leeches (ROM feature exhibit, November 2019–March 2020). / Photo courtesy of the editor.  

The idea for this blog post actually came about a few months ago, when I was watching an episode of The Good Place. In order to stay spoiler free, let’s just say some characters end up on the run in hell (yes, literally!). In disguise, they find themselves stuck in a hall of the “Museum of Human Misery” where animated human dioramas depicting low-level torture form the vast majority of exhibits. Their charade is up when one brand new diorama is unveiled — featuring our heroes torturing one another. Although certainly strange without context, this scene highlights a trait of many museums — the ability to confront the best and worst of ourselves (usually referring to the loftily imagined ‘humankind,’ rather than the very literal direction the show takes!). 

The museum in “Black Museum” (the finale of the fourth season of Black Mirror) similarly serves as a mirror for the worst parts of a society set in the horrifyingly not-so-far-off future. Without giving too much away, many objects in this museum don’t just represent human stories — but actual elements of human consciousness. As the enthusiastic curator/docent says, there is a “sad, sick story behind almost everything” in the museum. A show like this, much like horror museums or other controversial sites of dark tourism, can “tell us a lot about what it is to be human.” Further, also according to a professor researching the phenomenon, tourists of these places have the opportunity to “reflect on and try to better understand the evil that we’re capable of.”

A framed explanation of the linguistic origin of the word "vampire." / Bloodsuckers: Legends to Leeches (ROM feature exhibit, November 2019–March 2020). / Photo courtesy of the editor.  

If you search for horror museums, you’d find tourist-oriented top-10 or top-20 lists with museums right around the world. One in particular, the Warren Occult Museum formerly located in Monroe, Connecticut (but recently closed due to zoning violations) is closely linked to well-known horror films. Reportedly filled with cursed objects that formed the basis of movies such as Annabelle (a doll that is perhaps the most famous of the collection) or the Conjuring series, it was a popular destination for various YouTubers as well (with about 3 million views on a segment of Buzzfeed Unsolved).

Further, according to such lists, museums focusing on one particular scary or gross object are quite popular. Themes include ventriloquism (Fort Mitchell, Kentucky), disgusting food (Malmo, Sweden) and clowns (Leipzig, Germany). One noteworthy variant of these object-themed horror museums focuses on the medical sciences. These gore-filled exhibits include those located on the sites of hospitals (a former operating theatre, in London, England) and those dedicated to dentists (also located in London, England), pharmacies (New Orleans, Louisiana), microbes (Amsterdam, Netherlands), locks of hair (Cappadocia, Turkey), parasites (Tokyo, Japan), brains (Bengaluru, India), devastating breakups (Zagreb, Croatia and LA, California), and death (as one medical museum is known colloquially, located in Bangkok, Thailand). This idea of body-based horror also conjures images of wax museums, which reportedly “would not be complete” without a chamber of horrors. Perhaps the most horrific type of all are the ones linked to historically grim places or practices. These include museums dedicated to medieval crime (Rothenburg, Germany), magic and witchcraft (Cornwall, England), and torture (Amsterdam, Netherlands), among others. 

A movie poster of Dracula from the early 1930s. The ROM exhibit It's Alive! Classic Horror and Sci-Fi Art from the Kirk Hammett Collection (July 2019–January 2020) did a good job discussing the xenophobia and racism inherent in many classic early horror films. / Photo courtesy of the editor. 

Finally, museums or exhibits dedicated to the dead can also be quite commonly found – from Sicilian catacombs to shrunken heads in Oxford, England. Notably, the Pitt Rivers Museum actually very recently (in September 2020) permanently closed their gallery of shrunken heads, as part of their efforts to decolonize their institution. Due to this connection to colonization and to othering, this deserves an entirely separate conversation – one which I will explore in an upcoming blog. What is worth noting at the present is how, by looking at the sordid histories of some of these earliest collecting practices, it is clear that horror has always had a place in the museum. 

“THE MONA LISA WAS DISAPPOINTING:” THE MYSTERIOUS WAYS THAT ART BECOMES A MASTERPIECE

Museum Mysteries | Jaime Meier

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The "Mona Lisa" by Leonardo da Vinci (Source)

The “Mona Lisa” by Leonardo da Vinci is known by art lovers and avoiders alike. The painting resides in the Louvre Museum in Paris, which is one of the most visited museums in the world as evidenced by its 9.6 million visitors in 2019. Contrary to what you may believe, the Mona Lisa does not loom in popular culture because of her beauty and cheeky smile. Rather, her notoriety is concertedly preserved by the people and institution which house her.

When the “Mona Lisa” was acquired by the Louvre in 1804 and subsequently hung, the painting “wasn’t even the most famous painting in its gallery, let alone in the Louvre.” But on August 21, 1911 the painting was stolen and swiftly hurled into the international art scene by sensational media coverage. The painting was regained 28 months later when one of the thieves attempted to sell it to an art dealer in Florence. The “Mona Lisa” was hence returned to the Louvre a new woman.

The international media sparked an interest that has led millions of people in the century since to traverse the Louvre and whirl past statues and paintings to reach the “Mona Lisa,” only to be disappointed by its size, quality, or the swarm of people surrounding it. This is because the “Mona Lisa” has been deemed a masterpiece, and thus people must be able to recognize its splendor on sight, right? The problem is that the idea of subjectivity in art and pronouncing certain artworks as masterpieces are two ideas that cannot coexist. To truly allow all people to enjoy art, the hierarchy and status of certain mediums and painters must be dismantled. The expectation that one can recognize and feel a great work of art on sight is upheld by an upper class who have access to knowledge about art history but establish their elite and special status as art connoisseurs by spreading the idea that a great work of art is simply “known.”

A crowd in front of the "Mona Lisa." (Source)

Advertisement on the Louvre website. (Source)

The act of seeing the “Mona Lisa” is also hardly about the artwork; it plays into a social game, as established by Pierre Bourdieu, that relies on continuous interest and participation by visitors to ensure its continued status as a must-see masterpiece. Many people grow up hearing and learning about the “Mona Lisa,” creating an investment in it that may urge them to travel and see the painting for themselves. By visiting the painting and spreading positive or negative reviews, this very act ensures the continuation of the game by either encouraging others to experience its enchanting brushstrokes and chaotic crowd or become an art topic to complain about.

The Mona Lisa is not inherently a masterpiece – no artwork is. That is simply the value invested in by an elitist culture that seeks to prevent others from fully enjoying art. If art is indeed subjective, then one should enjoy it on their terms, not the ones decided for them. Whether you are interested in art or not, I, a resident art lover, encourage you to re-examine why certain works of art and their makers are given a certain status over others. Come to your own conclusions about the art you enjoy and the art you would prefer to avoid.

THE UNKNOWN CREATOR: THE MYSTERY BEHIND INDIGENOUS CRAFT ARTISTS

Museum Mysteries | Jaime Meier

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Alongside art and cultural objects, museums preserve the names of those who created the items, except in the case of Indigenous peoples whose personhood often fails to appear in the official museum record. One of these reasons is due to the unfortunate binary created between craft and art. We typically think of art as paintings, sculptures, or drawings, while craft denotes pottery, textiles, or woodworking. This gap has been greatly contested over the past decade and my use of “craft” is of great respect for the practice that rivals or exceeds other art practices. Emerging craft artists are more readily recognized for their works, especially due to the growth of social media, but museums are still left with many brilliant craft items created by unknown Indigenous artists.

Coiled Tlingit basket made by Unknown (Artist). (Source)

Many Indigenous craft items, such as woven Tlingit baskets, are utilitarian and used by various family or community members. A special acknowledgement of the creator was not a necessity, as members of the community knew who the item was created by and it was created for public use rather than just visual appreciation. When these objects are brought into museums, the makers are listed as “Unknown.” Dolores Churchill, a Haida elder and basket weaver, has said, “As long as Native art remains in museums, it will be thought of in the past tense.” The use of the “Unknown" artist only reiterates the idea of a past culture by amplifying knowledge that was lost to time and does not continue into the present. The item was not created by a Tlingit artist, but a depersonalized and uniform Tlingit culture.

"Peace Treaty Belt" made by a Haudenosaunee Artist. Photo courtesy of Jaime Meier. 

As of now, the names of the artists involved in Indigenous craft are either irrecoverable or museums lack the resources or to solve the mystery. The National Gallery of Canada has made the decision to move past listing unnamed Indigenous artists as “Unknown” and have relabeled to acknowledge the artist in connection to their nation. For example, as an “Haudenosaunee Artist,” thus bridging the gap between artist and community. The artist is no longer an unidentified person, but rather an artist who carries the spirit of their community. The Royal Ontario Museum (ROM) has taken similar steps in their online collection, listing the maker based on the Indigenous community who created it rather than simply an affiliation.

"Lacrosse Stick" made by a Haudenosaunee Artist. (Source)

Museums are closely drifting away from the use of the “Unknown Artist" to the benefit of the public, the original artist, and the artist's community. Social media has made it difficult for Indigenous craft artists to remain unknown, as many have thriving social media accounts and online shops. Whether it's beadwork, tufting, or birch bark, Indigenous artists are reclaiming craft, identities, and their places in the art world. 

MELTING DOWN THE MYSTERY: THE FRANKLIN EXPEDITION IN 2018

MUSEUM MYSTERIES

BY: SERENA YPELAAR

For my final Museum Mysteries post, I couldn't resist taking an age-old Victorian mystery out of the freezer for a thaw: the famous Franklin Expedition to the Arctic.

The last time Musings tackled this frigid phantom of a story was with Sadie MacDonald's review of the pop-up exhibit at the Royal Ontario Museum (ROM). Now, the Canadian Museum of History (CMH) has opened their exhibition, Death in the Ice: The Mystery of the Franklin Expedition, after its run at the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich, UK.

Death in the Ice is a joint effort between the Canadian Museum of History, Inuit Heritage Trust and the UK National Maritime Museum, as well as Parks Canada and the Government of Nunavut.

Promotional image for Death in the Ice: The Mystery of the Franklin Expedition. Photo: Canadian Museum of History.

Having worked at the Museum of Inuit Art and Inuit Art Foundation respectively, northern Canadian history is one of my key focuses. When I interned at the Northern Life Museum and Cultural Centre in Fort Smith, Northwest Territories, I delivered educational programming to high school students alongside the Canada Science and Technology Museum's travelling exhibition Echoes in the Ice: Finding Franklin's Ship. I doubt I'll ever stop being interested in the lost expedition and its mysterious legacy.

Note found in a cairn in 1859 on King
William Island, written by Franklin's
crew and even updated to report
Franklin's death and the desertion of
the ships. Source.

Sir John Franklin was selected in 1845 (though far from the top choice) at age 59 to lead a British Royal Navy expedition in search of the fabled Northwest Passage. In what is now the Canadian Arctic, Franklin and his crew met Inuit who later provided oral testimony of their encounters with the British men. 

With 129 men on board, the ships HMS Erebus and HMS Terror got locked in the ice and were rendered immobile. Franklin was dead by 1847, and the surviving men were forced to desert the ships and travel south on foot. In the harsh Arctic conditions, none would survive. Rumours swirled that some men, in sheer desperation, had resorted to cannibalism, a sensational element of this story that both repulses and fascinates. (Charles Dickens published articles weighing in on the cannibalism debate, despite Victorians' indignation at the thought.) 

On the MMSt Ottawa trip last year, CMH staff spoke to us about their efforts to represent previously overlooked Inuit perspectives in Death in the Ice. The exhibition is said to focus heavily on Inuit voices and experiences - though that's not to say that it hasn't had its fair share of controversy regarding objects taken from the shipwrecks of the Erebus and Terror after their respective discoveries by Parks Canada in 2014 and 2016.

The reason for this is simple: Inuit were the last to see the ships and their crews. And those encounters, preserved in oral histories and shared with Parks Canada and its partners, contributed directly to the discovery of HMS Erebus and Terror. - Canadian Museum of History, "Inuit Knowledge and the Franklin Expedition Exhibition"

Peter Taptuna (Nunavut's Premier at the time) claimed in a letter to Prime Minister Justin Trudeau in fall 2016 that Parks Canada wrongfully removed artifacts belonging to Nunavut and Inuit Heritage Trust since the wrecks are in their territory. Parks Canada alleges that the wrecks are still British property, citing a 1997 agreement in which the British consented to transfer the contents of the wrecks to Canada once found. 

Memorial to Sir John Franklin and the lost expedition outside the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich, UK. Source.

I haven't managed to pop back to Ottawa to visit the Death in the Ice exhibition (as well as my alma mater) yet, but I suppose that just adds to this column's air of mystery. I've instead outlined a few questions I would like to see answered or at least discussed in the exhibition: 

• How can we give oral traditions more weight as a way of knowing in exhibitions like these, where Indigenous narratives are integral? 
• What does our obsession with the men's purported cannibalism tell us about sensationalism as it relates to museum audiences? 
• Some of the men's bodies were preserved in the ice and found intact over a century later - but will we ever find Sir John Franklin's body? Would it teach us anything new?
• When will the ownership dispute be resolved between Inuit and Parks Canada? Is there a way to interpret history in museums without displaying artifacts with questionable provenance?

Most of my questions are more museological than factual. I accept that some mysteries will forever remain unsolved, but that doesn't mean we can't explore and learn from them in the absence of concrete answers. Instead, these unknowns can be an excellent prompt toward critical thinking and dialogue.

Plus, we have great historical interpretation on television to satiate our curiosity. I can't wait to see how the Franklin Expedition is adapted in AMC's newest drama, The Terror, which premieres this Monday. Time will tell whether Inuit are satisfactorily represented in the series, but I'm eager to start taking it in. (And before you ask, I haven't been paid off by AMC - it's not my fault they make so many historical dramas!)

The Terror actors Ciarán Hinds (as Sir John Franklin), Jared Harris, and Tobias Menzies discuss their characters - both historically and as interpreted in the series.

So how can we keep dwelling on the same mysteries time and again without stifling them? By offering different vantage points. It's an issue I've been focusing a lot on in my Musings articles this year: tell the story that hasn't been told, and people will listen. Promise visitors more, and they will want to keep learning. Answer questions, but focus just as much on what we don't know. 

With that, my readers, I'll close the door on Museum Mysteries for now. I hope you've enjoyed embracing the unknown and that you'll continue to do so!

DEMYSTIFYING THE CANADIAN HISTORY HALL: PART TWO

MUSEUM MYSTERIES

BY: SERENA YPELAAR 

Welcome back to the "Demystifying the Canadian History Hall" series, in which I attempt to unpack the extensive new content in the Canadian Museum of History. For Part Two, I'm looking at how language brings important Indigenous histories - which museums have routinely minimized or glossed over - to the forefront. 

The first gallery in the new Canadian History Hall speaks for itself: an Anishinabe creation story, passed on orally, is another example of how language (and its presentation) speaks volumes in an exhibition.
Photo courtesy of Serena Ypelaar 

As an avid writer myself, I love how the written word can convey so much, especially in the nuances of word choice. 

If you visited the old Canada Hall when it was open, you may remember that the immersive walk-through of Canada's history began with European contact in approximately 1000 CE. We understand now that this is an inaccurate representation of Canadian history, as Indigenous peoples lived on the land thousands of years before. The new Canadian History Hall has tried to illustrate this knowledge in the form of comprehensive new galleries.

So how has the new Hall confronted a history that was previously underrepresented? In my last post I touched briefly upon Indigenous inclusion in the exhibition content itself. I also noticed that many of the new interpretive panels discuss Indigenous history in a way that debunks some common misconceptions about Indigenous peoples. 

Let's look at some interpretive panels now, and consider what their language teaches us about Indigenous Canadian history.

"Indigenous Nations" section panel in the Early Canada gallery.
Photo courtesy of Serena Ypelaar. (click to enlarge)

Indigenous traditions are not a thing of the past, and Indigenous nations are distinct from one another

In this section panel (right), the museum asserts that by 500 years ago, Indigenous nations had "productive economies and complex social structures". The panel also clarifies that some groups moved seasonally, while others lived in permanent communities. This information is important since Indigenous nations are not homogeneous - each is distinct and carries its own history. 

The panel also declares that Indigenous societies were "thriving" and that "many of the traditions established centuries ago continue today", explaining that while Indigenous traditions go back centuries, they have endured throughout Canadian history (despite colonizers' efforts to destroy them). 

I want to acknowledge that speaking about Indigenous peoples rather than having individuals who identify as Indigenous share their own perspectives can be troublesome. There are issues inherent with speaking of cultural groups in this detached way, running the risk of marginalization. However, I don't wish to overlook the fact that the Canadian Museum of History underwent extensive consultations while creating this exhibition, including the appointment of an Aboriginal Advisory Council. In fact, one could argue that the museum has done the right thing here, as they aren't attempting to speak on behalf of Indigenous peoples - they are speaking from their vantage point as a museum. 

The names we often use to refer to Indigenous peoples were in fact imposed by colonial powers 

Terminology guide in the Canadian History Hall.
Photo courtesy of Serena Ypelaar. (click to enlarge)

In elementary school I heard the terms Huron, Iroquois, and Ojibwa, but less often the Wendat, Haudenosaunee, and Anishinabe respectively - even though this is what the aforementioned Indigenous nations called themselves. European colonists' names for Indigenous nations seem to have prevailed over time; but museums, and many similar organizations, are finally beginning to re-adopt the Indigenous names, as outlined in this panel (left). 

I appreciated the clear definitions of these terms; in stating that their panels "use Indigenous names, but will sometimes also provide the familiar European name as a reference", the museum employs a transparent and ethical voice in the exhibition (of which I'm sure the late Cheryl Meszaros would have approved). Here, the museum shares its deeper awareness of Indigenous rights and how our own perceptions and assumptions have been shaped by colonialism.

Indigenous peoples were not passive victims, but actively fought for their rights in the face of injustice

Panel in the Colonial Canada gallery. Photo courtesy of
Serena Ypelaar. (click to enlarge)

The effects of colonialism are much clearer in the new Canadian History Hall than they were in the old Canada Hall. As seen in another panel (right), the museum acknowledges that "the rapid settlement of English-speaking immigrants came at great cost to First Nations". The relationship between colonizers and Indigenous peoples who were being forced off their land is evident here, with clearer language. 

However, I wouldn't necessarily call this panel "blunt". Not to delve too deeply into grammar here, but the panel uses "treaties" as the subject without specifying who enacted such treaties (European settlers). This makes the sentence a bit more vague in terms of culpability.

Regardless, the panel ends strongly, with the acknowledgement that "First Peoples experienced these new policies and attitudes differently ... communities persisted in spite of restrictions." You may have started to recognize a common theme in the panel content: Indigenous peoples fought to retain their lands and customs, as affirmed by the active language that characterizes them. 

Indigenous peoples have been oppressed by the Government of Canada and remain bound by restrictive legal systems 

The themes of hardship and resilience illustrated in the Canadian History Hall continue to manifest in the experiences of many Indigenous peoples today. Though we as Canadians are now learning more about our shameful history and the lasting legacies of colonization, harmful legislation such as the Indian Act (1876) still allows the government to control aspects of Indigenous life, from "Indian status" to land ownership to education. 

This panel directly addresses the devastation of residential schools.
Photo courtesy of Serena Ypelaar. (click to enlarge)

Openly confronting our colonial history (as in the above panel) is a first step toward reconciliation, and hopefully this understanding is something that visitors will take with them beyond their visit. I'll leave you with this last panel from one of the final galleries in the Canadian History Hall, a testament to the lasting legacies of our history. 

This panel from the Modern Canada gallery both clarifies terminology and
subtly demonstrates the ongoing ramifications of the Indian Act.  

DEMYSTIFYING THE CANADIAN HISTORY HALL: PART ONE

MUSEUM MYSTERIES

BY: SERENA YPELAAR

It's been four months since fellow Musings blogger Emily Welsh and I first visited the new Canadian History Hall at the Canadian Museum of History in Gatineau, and I still feel overwhelmed by the size, scope, and content of the comprehensive exhibition.

Pathway leading to the Canadian History Hall. The streamlined walkways take you through Canada's history in a chronological fashion. Photo courtesy of Serena Ypelaar

The museum fatigue was real. I sometimes think wryly about how the Hall opened after I finished my undergraduate degree at the University of Ottawa; if I'd stuck around longer, I would've been able to return and focus on each section in separate visits. Instead, I squeezed it all into one short trip to the capital. As I wandered the Hall, I felt the need to take some time for reflection both during and after the experience.

Since the Canadian History Hall is so large and presents many opportunities for museological discourse, I've decided to make this written exploration into a series. For its first installment, here are a few pleasantly surprising stories about lesser-known, non-white historical figures I discovered in the Hall.

Depiction of Marie Marguerite Rose in the Canadian
History Hall. Photo courtesy of Serena Ypelaar.

Marie Marguerite Rose – Slavery in New France 

As an African-born woman sold into slavery in Canada, Marie Marguerite Rose was baptized and given her French name after being purchased at age 19 by French naval officer Jean Chrysostome Loppinot. She was manumitted in 1755 and married a free Mi'kmaw man, Jean-Baptiste Laurent, that same year. They went on to operate a tavern in Louisbourg, on what is now Cape Breton Island. In 1757, she died after being free for less than two years, and was buried at the Fortress of Louisbourg. Her legacy as a slave in Canada undercuts the misconception that Canada was historically free of slavery. Though our American neighbours took longer to abolish slavery (1865), Canada itself did not completely eradicate it until 1834. Rose's experience highlights those similarities. Her biographical presence in the Canadian History Hall calls for a conscious accountability and acceptance that our nation's history contains these damaging societal systems.

Photo courtesy of Serena Ypelaar.

This panel (left) clearly describes that the objects on display, which were found in the slave owners' well, were likely objects Rose used when performing domestic tasks during her enslavement. Their provenance is confirmed, while their connection to Rose is not – but the narrative centres more on her experience of life in New France. Though the panel refers to both Rose and slave owner Loppinot by name, the same is not true for Rose's Mi'kmaw husband. I'm unsure as to why this is, but I'd be interested in learning about the curatorial or interpretive decisions that influenced this omission. Regardless of its significance to the story, and irrespective of his centrality to the panel narrative, Laurent's name would have more clearly put him on equal footing as the other individuals in the story. Despite the lack of specificity regarding Indigenous Peoples in a panel like this one, the museum does well to illustrate other Indigenous-led episodes of history in other parts of the exhibition.

"The Four [Indigenous] Kings of Canada" – A British-Canadian Alliance

This story emphasizes the value of addressing contested narratives in museum content. In 1710, four Indigenous delegates – three Haudenosaunee ("Iroquois" to the British) and one Mohican – travelled to London, England, to meet Queen Anne. To cement a British alliance, the "Four Kings" hoped to obtain assistance in driving the French from their lands. The sensational appeal of the four Indigenous leaders exploded in London, and the Queen had these four portraits (below) commissioned by court painter John Verelst. Thought to be some of the oldest portraits of Indigenous Peoples taken from life, the circumstances of their creation are certainly unusual. An instance of Canadian history overseas (yet at such an early point in our post-contact history), these portraits were among the most memorable objects I encountered in the exhibition.

Portraits of "The Four Kings of Canada" in the Canadian History Hall. From left: Onigoheriago (Mohican), Sagayenkwaraton (Haudenosaunee), Etowaucun (Haudenosaunee), Tejonihokarawa (Haudenosaunee). Photos courtesy of Serena Ypelaar.

Photo courtesy of Serena Ypelaar.

The Royal Family presented the paintings to Library and Archives Canada in 1977. Mirroring history, contemporary Chiefs of the Mohawk people of the Bay of Quinte and those of the Six Nations Reserve, Ohsweken, greeted Queen Elizabeth II, this time on this side of the Atlantic.

Again, the object label (right) doesn't delve into this modern context, but it does acknowledge the divided viewpoints of many Haudenosaunee as to the legitimacy of the delegations. Likely owing to space limitations, this panel's storyline is object-focused, acting as an extended label within a much larger exhibition. In the Hall, microhistorical stories such as this one tend to be simplified as a result, but they can still act as useful prompts for visitors to pursue information afterward.

It would be ideal to have more information on the object's provenance and even a discussion on ownership if the scope of the Hall allowed it. Since the portraits were commissioned by the English monarch at the time, but depict Indigenous Canadian leaders, to whom do they belong? How accurate are these depictions? Information about the current Queen's gift to Canada is important because it contextualizes that discussion.

The Indigenous Perspective – Throughout History

In contrast to the previous iteration of the History Hall (which was on display until 2014, and known simply as "Canada Hall"), the new Canadian History Hall places much more focus on minorities, and the Indigenous content is explicit in its prevalence. I remember feeling a sense of relief as I saw Indigenous content integrated throughout the chronological galleries, and a similar satisfaction upon noticing written panels that, rather than attempting a studious neutrality, approached instances of cultural genocide with a frankness of tone that has recently gained more traction. On the national scale, it's crucial to acknowledge such injustices in our history, and emphasizing Indigenous perspectives on their own ancestral land is long overdue. 

Still think Canada's history is boring and/or predicable? Go see the exhibition if you can! Though the Canadian History Hall is overwhelming, its curatorial voice demonstrates a greater understanding of the diversity of our nation, taking steps toward understanding the colonial nuances and legacies that continue to shape Canada's development as a country. I believe the Hall excels in its ability to reveal stories of lesser-known individuals who played a part in Canada's history, offering us powerful insights and opening up further mysteries for us to solve. 

Stay tuned for Part Two of the "Demystifying the Canadian History Hall" series, in which I will explore the power of language and communication in shedding light on difficult histories. 

DO I WANNA KNOW? "THE TRUTH" ABOUT THE KENNEDY ASSASSINATION

MUSEUM MYSTERIES

BY: SERENA YPELAAR

I'll warn you: if you clicked on this article hoping to find out the absolute truth of who assassinated President John F. Kennedy (and why), you'll be sorely disappointed. I'm not writing this edition of Museum Mysteries with the intention of telling you everything, since I don't actually have the answers. Rather, I'm going to examine why we're morbidly obsessed with the Kennedy assassination and why I think we'll never let it rest.

On November 22, 1963, JFK was shot while riding in a presidential motorcade at Dealey Plaza, outside what was then the Texas School Book Depository in Dallas, Texas. He was rushed to Parkland Memorial Hospital, where he was pronounced dead that same afternoon.

U.S. President John F. Kennedy sits next to his wife, Jacqueline Kennedy, in the presidential motorcade on November 22, 1963. Source.

Just last month, the release of documents from the U.S. National Archives reignited an interest that's been burning steadily since the assassination. It's been 54 years since that historic day in Dallas - yet many are still unsatisfied with the official conclusions of the Warren Commission Report:

• That Lee Harvey Oswald shot and killed President Kennedy;
• That he acted alone in doing so;
• And that Jack Ruby, a nightclub owner, also acted alone when he killed Oswald a mere 48 hours later. 

Nevertheless, Oswald denied having committed the murder and claimed he was a "patsy", fuelling conspiracy. He was killed so soon after Kennedy's death that he could neither be questioned in depth nor testify at a trial. Theories quickly emerged that Jack Ruby had been hired to "silence" him.

Truth buried with him: the murder of Lee Harvey Oswald only two days after the Kennedy assassination has helped perpetuate mystery, intrigue, and conspiracy. Source.

So if the 888-page report still doesn't convince legions of conspiracy theorists or even some casual followers of the case, what evidence will ultimately prove the truth, whatever that may be? And why does the obsession with countless conspiracy theories live on? 

Personally, I think it's because so many aspects of the assassination can be picked apart. Some details don't seem to line up, and unanswered questions persist. From an FBI cover-up, to a link between Oswald and the CIA, to possible mob involvement, to possible Russian involvement ... the proliferation of theories is so cumbersome that proving or disproving any one story (whether it's the "official" narrative or one of the conspiracies) becomes very difficult. Even attempting to narrow my own topic for this post was nearly impossible! 

Through Kennedy-related collections alone, we can observe a morbid fascination with the assassination that goes beyond a search for direct conclusions and lies instead with a feeling of awe. 

Recently, auction houses have sold artifacts of Lee Harvey Oswald's, including his wedding ring (purchased by the Sixth Floor Museum at Dealey Plaza in 2015) and a toe tag removed from his body at the morgue, with a lock of his hair attached (it sold for $56,000 this month).

Why do we seek these objects out? The Sixth Floor Museum's curator Nicola Longford rationalizes that owning Oswald's ring - and learning that he left it on his wife's nightstand with $170 on the morning of the assassination - helps enlighten us on his background and possible motives. These artifacts provide a nuanced understanding from a micro-historical perspective, but they don't offer concrete answers. Yet, we're still obsessed with viewing and collecting such fabled items.

The Historic Auto Attractions museum has the 1962 Ford Ambulance that transported Oswald to Parkland Memorial Hospital, the same place where JFK had been taken just two days earlier. Do artifacts like these have a dark glamour about them that captivates visitors? Source.

Take Historic Auto Attractions, for instance. This Illinois museum has a Kennedy collection including upholstery from Kennedy's limousine, reportedly stained with his blood; Jack Ruby's jacket, hat and shoes he was wearing when he shot Oswald; and the window adjacent to the sniper's nest vantage point on the sixth floor. These artifacts are darkly captivating in the sense that viewing them transports us back in time to the horrific event - but what do they tell us?

Similarly, the Sixth Floor Museum has set up a Dealey Plaza EarthCam at the exact sixth floor window of the building where the sniper's nest was located. While I could likely write a whole other post discussing the ethics of such a chilling installation, I'll instead inquire as to what our interest in re-imagining the event using visual prompts says about us. Do we linger on this macabre narrative because of the mystery attached to it? Would our fascination diminish if all the Kennedy conspiracy theories were concretely debunked?

November 22, 2017 view of Dealey Plaza looking down from the sixth floor window of the former Texas School Book Depository. Lee Harvey Oswald allegedly shot President Kennedy from this window; the cars in the lanes above the trees to the right of the image are on the site of the assassination. Source.

So how do we handle historical narratives that are steeped in controversy? As the Sixth Floor Museum is located on the exact floor of the building from which Oswald was said to have fired the shot(s), they operate with a daunting challenge in front of them: overcoming sensationalism in favour of responsible interpretation. How do you retell a history that is so convoluted that it's hard to condense into a cohesive narrative? 

Much like the objects that enthrall people but don't always offer factual clarity, the museum doesn't necessarily need to provide answers. However, its staff have the painstaking responsibility to distill excessive information into exhibitions that provide the public with a thoughtful approach to a contested history.

Recreation of the sniper's nest at the Sixth Floor Museum (formerly the sixth floor of the Texas School Book Depository) in Dallas, TX. Photo courtesy of Google Maps. 

Even if we do receive some shocking new information from the still-unreleased files, I doubt the lid will be closed on the Kennedy mystery any time soon. There is too much dissent as to what happened, and too many skeptics who place the numerous and sometimes contradictory pieces of evidence under scrutiny. Many museum visitors approach the topic of the infamous Kennedy assassination with existing biases, and in the case that they're learning about it for the first time, the information overload is enough to confuse even the most lucid thinkers.

If we somehow learned the complete and unadulterated truth about the Kennedy assassination tomorrow, with tangible evidence to support each detail ... how many of us would believe it? 

ANTIQUE PROVENANCE: GET TO KNOW YOUR OBJECTS

MUSEUM MYSTERIES

BY: SERENA YPELAAR

This time two years ago, I purchased my first (and only) antique typewriter. As a collector I'm very particular - and I wanted my dream typewriter to be of the big, clunky variety. After five years and many unsuccessful Kijiji inquiries, I finally struck gold when I went to the Aberfoyle Antique Market.

Time is ticking away at the Aberfoyle Antique Market near Guelph, ON. Photo courtesy of Serena Ypelaar.

On that antiquing trip with my aunt, uncle, and sister in 2015, I found this wonderful wide-carriage Underwood, and I knew it was perfect. I was in my final year of my undergraduate degree, so my aunt and uncle generously bought me the beautiful typewriter as an early graduation gift.

My Underwood typewriter, affectionately christened "Frank". Photo courtesy of Serena Ypelaar.

Where am I going with this, you ask? Well, the fall antique market/garage sale/church bazaar season got me thinking about how buying second-hand items is similar to acquisitions in museums. Of course, the big question when acquiring objects is often: where did they come from? 

In other words, provenance is as big a deal with everyday collecting as it is in museums.

So how can you find out more about the stuff you've collected in your latest church bazaar haul? I've listed a few options of ways to find information about your antiques:

1. Examine the object itself. 

What material is it made of - anything that could situate it in a certain time period or place? Can you find any distinctive markings? Serial or model numbers? Does the item belong to a collection, like a dinnerware set (in the case of cutlery, china) or collection of literary works (books)? For example, my typewriter has this cool insignia on the side.

"Underwood, Elliott Fisher Limited, Toronto, Canada." So I at least know it was manufactured in the city. Photo courtesy of Serena Ypelaar.

2. Do some self-guided research.

Depending on what kind of object you've got, there are online databases and literature on manufacturers' products. Take the Classic Car Database, for example, or The Typewriter Database, both of which have an index of models by year, complete with photographs.

3. Contact an expert: get an appraisal. 

You may have watched Antiques Roadshow or the like. These shows are often centered on how much an object is worth, since for some reason quantifying the object helps us understand and assign value. But there is something to be said for finding someone who specializes in the type of object you've got - for example, there are typewriter experts or even hobbyists who are well-versed in the different models.

More objects on view at Aberfoyle Antique Market. Photo courtesy of Serena Ypelaar.

An online site like Value My Stuff can also help, but if you're after more qualitative information about the object, you'll need to find an appraiser who can give you a thorough breakdown of the object's date, possible origins, manufacturer, etc.

4. Surrender to the mystery and enjoy it. 

I'll confess: I don't actually know the full provenance of my typewriter yet. In two years I've made only a couple of efforts to research the model and find out the exact year it was produced. The vendor at the antique market suspected that it comes from the 1940s, but he conceded that it might've been made as late as the 1960s. Maybe one day I'll take more time to find out more about it - but for now, I can revel in the intrigue of wondering.

Photo courtesy of Serena Ypelaar.

Perhaps part of the reason antiques are so appealing is that they have stories attached. Other people owned and used these objects before we did, and even if we do choose to look for the provenance, some truths can't be unlocked by material evidence. We'll never know exactly where our used objects have been, and that's an exciting fact in itself!

Do you have any interesting stories about an antique or secondhand object you've found or collected?