These days I am more likely to visit a museum or gallery for my own personal pleasure and curiosity, rather than in a professional capacity. I go to see an exhibition that interests me, to meet friends and to see works in collections that I especially like. Perhaps for this reason I have become acutely aware of the overall visitor experience I have when I visit. I am more conscious of the costs of entry, or of buying a drink in the café, for instance. I notice how easy or not it is for me to get around and what information is made available to help me with this.
In particular I have started to register the extent to which I am made to feel welcome, both when I arrive at a museum and during my visit. In my mind, the welcome we receive is a fundamental and revealing manifestation of the values of any institution. As with any act of hospitality, a warm welcome is grounded in generosity, consideration and trust in those that are being invited into the space. It takes care to make people feel welcome. And, as Maria Puig de la Bellacasa writes in her book ‘Matters of Care‘, care is ‘a concrete work of maintenance, with ethical and affective implications’. In other words, care requires some affective involvement – I care for, I worry – but must be accompanied by the necessary labour, ‘the sometimes tedious maintenance of a relation’ through ‘putting in the work’ as de la Bellacasa notes.
A welcoming institution genuinely wants all those who visit to occupy their spaces, to relax and enjoy themselves and feel at home there. They pay attention to what will support their visitors to be inspired, challenged and comforted, should they need or wish to be. These institutions put in the work to try and make that happen.
There are multiple ways that we are made to feel welcome or not in the museum. One of which that has caught my attention is through the messages the museum chooses to communicate when you arrive. Below are two entirely unscientific observations based on my experiences over the last twelve months.
When I visited the MIT Museum in Cambridge, Massachusetts last Autumn. I was immediately struck by the message that greeted me by the entrance. It reads as follows:
Here is an explicit invitation for me and everyone else to come in and to join in. It locates the museum as a meeting place where we are encouraged to share our ideas and views. It communicates the museum’s appreciation that we have made the effort to visit. I, in turn, entered the museum feeling that, even though my knowledge of science and technology is minimal, I was welcome to be there.
A contrasting but equally significant message greeted me when I visited the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge, UK in December 2023. It said:
Although not an explicit message of welcome, to me this sign also demonstrates care on the part of the institution. As has been highlighted particularly in recent years, museums are not neutral and their historic lack of transparency regarding their histories and exclusionary institutional cultures has contributed to many feeling profoundly unwelcome. As far back as 2001 the British museologist Eilean Hooper-Greenhill was arguing that museums need to acknowledge visibly the conflicts and contradictions implicit in the presentation and interpretation of culture. To become what she calls an inclusive ‘post-museum’ institutions need to recognise their responsibilities in addressing all aspects of their histories. This sign indicated to me a willingness on the part of the Fitzwilliam to attempt to do this.
I am, however, well-aware that it is relatively easy to install a sign and to state a desire on the part of the museum to invite everyone in and to be more open about their origins. I am also conscious that as a museum professional it will probably not take too much to make me feel at home in these spaces. Taking the necessary care and putting in the work so that those who might feel less confident in the gallery is what really counts.
PRAM 