Just an Art Librarian

About Being Replaced

2011-08-27T10:59:00.000-07:00

I will be going on maternity leave in a few (hopefully short) weeks. I apologize for not posting. I've turned out to be the poster child for why you shouldn't get pregnant after 40.

At any rate, in preparation for my maternity leave (which will be a blessed six months!) I needed to make arrangements for running the library in my absence. Because - I know it may sound crazy to some people - but the library cannot self-run and there does actually need to be someone there to oversee things. That's what this post is about.

I have a great boss who genuinely uses the library and understands what it takes to have a research library and make it run. She may not know the details, but she knows it takes work and I sincerely appreciate that. Because, unfortunately, not everyone in my institution does know that.

This in an ongoing time of budget crises (seriously, when is this going to end?!) and I have to hope that that leads to people not thinking clearly. At my institution, there have been a number of people who have gone on to jobs elsewhere (most of the time for more money and less stress, but I digress...) and have not been replaced. The sad fact is their jobs get divided up among other existing staff or - in some cases - just get added to the workload of another single staff person. I get it, you're saving money, but it sure does suck.

As I have said ad nauseum on this blog, I'm a single staff person in my research library. There is no one in which to divide up the work if I'm out.

I guess I should consider myself "lucky" that my boss and the head of HR approved me hiring a temporary acting librarian in my absence. I mean, a year's worth of compensation for my position is already in the budget. It's not like we're hiring an additional person. And for you optimists out there, I hate to inform you but I do NOT get paid for my maternity leave. I'll be without a paycheck for six months and, for my family, that's not something that comes without some serious sacrifices. But, it's worth it.

As my belly grows and my leave grows closer, people have started to ask me what the plans are for the library. I explain that we are hiring a temporary librarian to run the library in my absence. I have to say even jaded old me has been surprised at the responses. They've ranged from "is this person being paid?" to "they're letting you hire someone?" to the old "why can't volunteers do it?" (oh, don't get me started on that one again).

I'm thrilled to hear that people think running a research library, managing 20+ volunteers, cataloguing hundreds of materials on a monthly basis - many in foreign languages and many with nuances where knowing the existing collection (all 45,000+ items in it) is critical - keeping track of circulation (who has what), fielding research requests from the very easy to the very difficult, being on top of the latest scholarship and technology, writing blog entries, curating book exhibitions, finding the unfindable resource and providing good service to the public - even when they severely test my patience - can be done by just anyone. Or, even more ridiculous, that this can all just fall by the wayside for six months while I'm out.

I guess why all of this is so upsetting to me is that it's not just a slap in the face to my profession (would someone assume this of other professions?), but it's an institution-wide acceptance of the fact that no one's function, position, relevance to the staff or public, or the services/skills they bring to the table really matters. It's just about trying to save money whatever the consequences.

I guess asking "do I need to be replaced?" is sadly not a rhetorical question.

When Donations Go Bad

2011-05-19T16:31:00.000-07:00

[Apologies for the two-month delay. I've been consumed by severe morning sickness (yep, I pregnant) and, well, writing a blog entry when I get home has been difficult. Please forgive the absence - I'm finally feeling better. Okay, onward!]

I feel like I've said this before, but it probably needs to be repeated: donations are both a blessing and a curse. I know, I know, some of you are thinking how ungrateful can this librarian be? It's a donation for god's sake!

Well, here's why:

We have very limited space here. I've said it a thousand times and it's still true. I ask that any time someone has a donation that they please, please complete a donation form listing the books and materials. I don't ask this because I'm mean and like to see people take on additional work when they're trying to move/downsize/whatever; it's because it helps me tell them what we actually need before they go to the effort of getting the boxes here. Rarely, do people follow this direction. Rarely. Like one in one hundred.

"I don't have time." "I already boxed them up." Okay fine. Then I have to tell them that whatever we don't need, we are going to sell. If they don't agree, I ask them to consider another location for their donation. People just cannot understand this and get furious. They've already had two strikes: please fill out the form - no! (strike one); I can take them all if you'll let me sell what we can't use - no! (strike two). There's no strike three in this situation because I can't take the books under these circumstances.

Most of the time, people just want to get rid of the books and really don't care what happens to them. So, I end up taking them all. Taking them all requires a lot of work: I have to make arrangements to get them (really a struggle because we have one delivery person for the entire museum) or have them delivered here. Once they're brought here, they're delivered to the library - all umpteen boxes - right by the front door (it's literally the only place), so I have to deal with them straightaway to get the boxes out of sight. We have to inventory the contents of the donations for the donor's tax purposes. This can days or weeks depending on how many books come in, because - guess what? - I do have other work to do. Then we have to compare the inventory list against our catalogue to see what we need and don't need.

I can't tell you how frustrating it is to have spent days preparing an inventory and days searching the catalogue to see if we have the book or not, and then find that we already have everything that's been given. We have them all. They're all duplicates. We actually didn't need any of it and now, I've got to deal with it.

Here's a recent example that was especially unpleasant: a donor calls one of our libraries and the librarian there tells her, based on what the donor's told her about the donation, that she doesn't have a need for these books. The donor will not take no for an answer and calls me - at the other library who is part of the same library system and will be searching the same catalogue the other librarian searched - and demands that I take them. I cowed, I knew this person was a VIP and, dammit, we're all worried about losing our jobs and I don't want to rock the boat, so I say I'll take them. I know, I know.

Getting the books here was a nightmare. The donor had vacated the residence and everything was now being handled by a third party who called me on a daily basis to see if I was coming to pick up the books. I reminded and reminded the delivery person, but he's only one person too, and the books did not get picked up in a timely manner - and I heard about it. Why couldn't they just bring them to me? Well, because they don't do stuff like that. They're "donating" it to me; it's my responsibility.

Okay, so now I've been told I have to take several hundred books I don't want, I've been harassed and yelled at by this third party, but we finally have the books. Like the example above, this was another case where of the days and days it took to inventory and check for duplicates, only a handful of the three hundred books were things we actually needed. The rest were duplicates as the earlier librarian had already determined.

And now for the best part of this story... as we are getting to the end of the inventory one of my volunteers realizes something funny in a couple of the books: little black dots near the binding. Guess what it was. Psocids, or book lice! Not only was this donation tons of work and tons of staff and volunteer time, it now had potentially contaminated part of the library. We had to go through all of the books - one more painful time - and pull any others with this "issue", wrap them and throw them in the garbage.

Even though the intent of most donations comes from a warm-hearted place, it's important to remember: They're work, they're lots of time, they take up space and can sometimes go very bad.

I'd love to hear your donation horror stories!!

Strange New World

2011-03-17T19:45:00.001-07:00

Within the last few weeks, I've been reading lots of posts and articles about eBooks and public libraries. HarperCollins recently changed its policy on how it allowed libraries to use its eBooks and it's put everyone in a tizzy. Here's the article: Publisher Limits Shelf Life for Library E-Books.

I have had several patrons - and staff - ask me about how I will deal with eBooks and it's been hard to answer. Public libraries are dealing with a completely different audience than mine: the public. In theory, that can encompass every imaginable education, socio-economic, age and comfort-with-technology group out there. They do have to deal with it and they have to deal with it now.

I, on the other hand, have a known user group I physically see: museum curators and other staff; also a large group of volunteer docents who are mostly retirees. People, we only stopped using film slides and moved to digital images for presentations within the last five years! (About 5-10 years behind everyone else!) These people are not ready for eBooks. We have a show currently where two classic books were suggested reading for the docents. These books were readily available - for free - at a number of places, including Google Books. I provided links to these sources, walked through instructions, not a single person used it. Not one.

So... imagine my dismay when someone comes into the library and makes this remark: "Why do you have all of these books? Don't you know everything's gone digital?" Oh really?

[Now before you start judging me and calling me a Luddite, know that I'm not.]

However, I do have to deal with my own specific reality every day. I can tell you that replacing all of our books, catalogues and serials with electronic equivalents is years or even decades away - if ever. There are two very important reasons for this lag time: 1. the users of my library aren't electronic converts and 2. our research material contains mainly images (it's what separates the arts from the sciences, who have already made the jump to all digital). Images are of objects owned, administrated and copyrighted by organizations, individuals and trusts. So much of our material isn't even available in electronic format (due to date and cost) and whatever does make it into easily available electronic format will likely cost a lot more than the one copy of the printed version I need. Additionally, the electronic version of the serials we get costs up to five times the cost of the print versions. We're a non-profit!

Someone pointed this article out to me: Books are Doing Surprisingly Well.

I am also not advocating for a single medium: print or electronic. Why not have both? As people's comfort levels change and the prices (hopefully) go down, why not offer eBooks to those that wish to have them?

It is the job of the librarian to provide her/his users with information in a way that they can use it. I just happen to work in a type of special library where they're just not quite ready for the next step.

Are You in a Band?

2011-02-27T13:40:00.000-08:00

Occasionally, artists have similar or share the same name as another famous person. Maybe that in itself isn't so unusual. I had this realization, though, that in a lot of cases, the same-name phenomenon involves visual artists and musicians. Here's what I mean:

We recently received - through donation - two large catalogues on the American artist Paul McCarthy. The two folio sized works - Hummel and Three Sculptures - published by L&M Arts and Hauser & Wirth, 2010. In the American contemporary art world, McCarthy is a household name. But, you may have thought - as a great many have - that I was talking about the Beatle, Paul McCartney. While displaying these two volumes on our "new arrivals" shelf, I had more than one patron say "I had no idea he did sculpture." (Paul McCartney does actually paint and sell his work, so even more confusing!) I had to explain that it was not the man who played bass for the best-known rock band out of England in the 20th century, rather it was a California artist - born a mere three years after the other - who, at over 65, is putting out some of the most controversial and provocative work of his career.

Although not recently, I've also had to make distinctions for people between Phil Collins and Phil Collins. For those of you over 35, you probably think of Phil Collins, the former Genesis drummer and front man born in London. There is another distinguished artist of the same name, also English, born in Runcorn in the North West of England. The later Phil Collins is primary known for his video work and performances and was nominated for the distinguished Turner Prize in 2006. Every time his name comes up, I have to say "no, not THAT Phil Collins."

This one is my particular favorite because it's so distinctive. Currently, the textile, sculptural and performance artist Nick Cave is exhibiting on the West Coast. His work is amazing and defies written explanation. He is often confused, understandably, with the Australian musician Nick Cave. We recently got the exhibition catalogue for the former Nick Cave's exhibition Meet Me at the Center of the Earth. I cannot tell you how many people have seen "Nick Cave" on the cover and said "wow, I had no idea he did work like that."

Just an observation... know of others? Please share them!

Fairies

2011-01-05T16:01:00.001-08:00

It's truly bizarre how sometimes things come in waves. And this wave was all about fairies!

Having a young reader in my house, I've been re-introduced to fairy tales. I'll admit it; I love it! I'd forgotten how much I love fairies and the other creatures of fairy tales.

At a recent trip to our public library, I realized some of the books we were choosing were more for my enjoyment than for my daughter's. I felt myself drawn to the stories, but more particularly to the illustrations. One book I picked up (and ended up renewing twice because I didn't want to let it go) was Princess Stories, compiled by Cooper Edens and published by one of my favorite publishers, Chronicle Books, in 2004. I couldn't say it better than Chronicle's own synopsis:

The stories are paired with magnificent artwork by some of the most renowned children's book illustrators of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. From Arthur Rackham to Millicent Sowerby to Kay Nielsen, each brought a unique artistic vision to these timeless tales.

During this time, I had a bizarre thing happened in the library* that indirectly led to my needing to catalog a small number of un-cataloged books of juvenile literature in our collection.

Among those books were a number of works of folklore and fairy tales or their illustrators: The Light Princess by George MacDonald, The Nightingale by Hans Christian Andersen, Once Upon a Time: The Fairy Tale World of Arthur Rackham by Margery Darrell, The Provensen Book of Fairy Tales by Alice Provensen and Snow White and the Seven Drawfs: A Tale from the Brothers Grimm ed. by Randall Jarrell, among others. I quickly realized many were here due to the artists who created the illustrations - important artists who work on paper. I'm pretty keen to make sure everything that's here is eventually in the library's catalog, so I set to work on getting them in our system. (This one of the most joyous bouts of cataloging I've had recently.) While assigning their call numbers I discover even more books of this ilk already in our collection (sweet!)

In the next day or so, I receive my Metropolitan Museum of Art Shop catalogue in the mail and immediately see Encyclopedia Mythologica: Fairies and Magical Creatures Pop-Up Book. Damn you Robert Sabuda!!! I can't resist. I would love this, I mean, my daughter would love this for Christmas. Did they have this last year? I didn't see it if they did...

I'm checking my email and get my weekly post from ABE Books. The subject: The Real Fairy Tales: Wee Folk in Books. So now I've got fairy tales with exceptionally awesome illustrations and bindings. [Are you getting what I mean about things coming in waves?]

As if this wasn't completely enough, a long-time donor to the library calls me up and asks me if I want his two-volume copy of The Juniper Tree and Other Tales from Grimm ed. by Lore Segal with illustrations by Maurice Sendak. Yes. I want it.

***

*This post is really about fairies, but if you're interested in what happened, here it is:

A person had called me several weeks ago asking what resources we had on early 20th century women artists. I provided her with a list and that was that.

Out of the blue several weeks later, a person comes in with a group of six young girls (probably between 6 and 9). This is unusual because, well, we don't see many kids in this research library. There's not a lot for them to look at and more that some parents might not want them to look at (you know how contemporary artists can be! [wink]). My first thought was "how am I going to keep all of these little ones quiet while others are trying to do research?" Then, I remembered a small shelf of children's art books that some one had pulled aside in our back-cataloging area. The former librarian told me she kept them there just for occasions like this. I'm on it. I get the books and bring them out for the kids to look at while their mom/teacher/babysitter/whatever was doing what she came here to do.

The mom/teacher/babysitter/whatever presents me with a list of books she'd like to see (I do appreciate it when people come prepared!) and I realize she's the one I'd spoken with on the phone earlier. Well, okay. That's fine. I might have chosen another time to do research if I'd have known I'd have to bring the kids with me (I personally can't do it), but who knows what happened.

Then, the woman begins to teach an art history class to these girls! She stands up, she holds up books, they have a question-and-answer session - all as if there is no one else in the room. I learn quickly that they're part of a home school class. Now, I applaud the want to teach the girls about art history and I applaud bringing them to the museum. But this is not Starbucks, there are people working in here! You can't be conducting a class in the library without making prior arrangements or without even asking me about it when you're here. Am I the only one who thinks this is a bit rude?

Hello Again

2011-01-02T10:05:00.000-08:00

I have taken a bit of time off these past couple of months. I guess I needed some time to reflect and really think about my career and my current job.

I've been in my current position for over seven years. It's probably the seven-year itch, but I've had some serious thoughts about moving on and elsewhere. I do love my job (you've heard me say this many times) and, although I'm sure it seems like I use this space to "complain" a lot about obnoxious patrons (and god knows, there are a lot to complain about!), those same patrons make this job interesting. They also account for a small percentage of the patrons I encounter.

This is a tough time for libraries and librarians. This is not news to you. Libraries across the country are reducing hours, reducing staff, charging for services and charging for use. To switch jobs right now would be, well, career suicide. I am constantly reminded how bad the situation is out there by other bloggers, especially one of my very very favorites: the Annoyed Librarian. (I strongly encourage you to follow her!)

A while back, I mentioned I had proposed changing my library's hours to "by appointment only." There were a number of reasons for this:

I am an only staff person and on days when we have open hours, I cannot leave to take lunch unless I make significant arrangements (which is a hassle, so I don't).

If I'm sick or my child is sick and I can't come in, the library is closed. You can imagine the anger of someone who's driven in only to find the library doors shut.

Knowing when people are coming is incredibly helpful. Not only to me, but to them as well. I can prepare things or I can let them know if we don't have what they need and save them a trip.

Please note that none of these reasons includes hating people or wanting to reduce services or reduce access. The proposed change was really for practical reasons.

It's not going to happen. Sigh. And in times like these, I have no bargaining power. If I don't like it, I am free to leave and there will likely be tens of people submitting resumes for my job. I'll have to live with things continuing as they are.

I have to admit at first I felt defeated and a bit angry. I worked for a number of corporations and for-profit companies in the earlier part of my career and sometimes use those experiences as my "normal" gauge. Getting what you want by thoughtful proposal and reasonableness doesn't always work at non-profits, especially those with a significant public-service component. I have to remember that sometimes.

So, I can take this experience and say "screw you guys" and walk away. Or I can accept it and be thoughtful about how to handle the future. I guess maybe I've finally become an adult, because I'm choosing the later.

See you people in the New Year with more stories about annoying patrons, crazy requests, librarian insights and other stories I hope you'll find interesting or, at best, entertaining.

I Feel Dirty

2010-10-25T15:39:00.000-07:00

There are times when I have to catalog books that I don't agree with. There are times when we have to add books to the collection about artists who disgust me. Then there are times - like today - when I have to catalog a book that nearly brings tears to my eyes. It evokes for me a time when people were legally horrible to one another and things were even worse than they are now.

The book is an 1897 printing of the work Kemble's Coons published in New York by R.H. Russell & Son.

It's about African-American children and it's as bad as you think.

It came into the collection as part of a multi-thousand volume donation that was pretty much taken sight-unseen. While we've gotten mostly amazing things from this donation, we did get a few things here and there that were... well, let's just say they're things I wouldn't have gone out to look for.

So, you may ask, if it's so horrible, why are you adding it? Two reasons: a. it illustrates the work of Edward W. Kemble (1861-1933), a reputable American artist who illustrated all of the editions of Huck Finn published during Mark Twain's life, and b. because, right or wrong, it's a part of American art history.

When I first pulled the book onto my desk to start the cataloging process, I quickly found the record in OCLC, downloaded it, and quickly put the book back on the cart. Similar to the erotica incident, I didn't want anyone to walk into my office and see this on my desk.

I even felt like I should cover my tracks about downloading the record for this record of human dispicableness in the union catalog. Well, we're not the only library that owns this book. (Still, not very comforting.)

In an article entitled "Illustrating Slavery in Mark Twain's Text," University of Virginia American Lit Professor Stephen Railton discusses African Americans and slavery in Twain's books. The paragraph about three-fourths of the way down, entitled "Kemble's Images of African Slavery," speaks specifically about Kemble's illustrations. Kemble was obviously part of a tradition where stereotyping and looking at African Americans as the "other" was simply how it was.

Uck.

Should I Do It?

2010-10-13T08:46:00.000-07:00

I just had to post an email I received this morning. It came to the library account:

Greetings from Dave Mike,

I am Mr. Dave Mike, Group Accountant (R.B.T.T) However, I have already sent you this same letter by post one month ago, but I am not sure if it did get to you since I have not heard from you, hence my resending it again.

I discovered a dormant account in my office, as Group Accountant with Republic Bank of Trinidad and Tobago. It will be in my interest to transfer this fund worth $28.5M Dollars (Twenty Eight Million Five hundred thousand Dollars) in an account offshore. Can you be my partner?

Please reply me at my private email address { davemike22@w.cn }

Regards and respect,
Dave Mike

Should I do it? $28.5M is pretty darn tempting.

P.S. [warning: snippiness alert!] First of all, Dave, I'm sorry that you're someone who had to grow up with two first names for your whole name. Hopefully, you didn't get too much harrassment for that. I'm assuming you grew up in the U.S. as "Mike" doesn't sound like a typically Trinidadian/Tobagonian name. [But what do I know?] Secondly, I appreciate that you respect me and say so in your salutation. Lastly, I appreciate the fact that you had to let me know $28.5M meant "Twenty Eight Million Five hundred thousand Dollars" [because obviously, I'm an idiot] and that "hundred" and "thousand" don't require capitalization, but the rest of the numbers do.

I'm Lucky

2010-10-10T14:53:00.000-07:00

After I wrote the previous post, I did take some time to reflect and really think about things. I probably sounded really ungrateful and I do apologize for that. I'm not ungrateful, I am reminded by others in my field all of the time how lucky I am to have my job. I am lucky.

At the end of September, I was lucky enough to attend a great art museum library symposium on the East Coast. I met (or caught up with) many, many others who do exactly my same job. Very interestingly, regardless of size or location, just about every single museum library is dealing with the exact same problems: reduced staff, reduced resources, lack of space and an increasingly entitled and sometimes downright hostile clientele. There were some people who have it way worse than I do. I felt for them.

However, the presentations I heard were encouraging, empathetic and inspiring. I was truly proud to be part of a profession where people really, really care about their jobs and the quality of their work. It's a profession with a very high level of conscientiousness. I was humbled by the work people were doing, despite the circumstances outlined above.

It's professional development opportunities - like this one - that help me keep it all in perspective. Thank you fellow art museum librarians!

If I Killed Someone, Would You Blame Me?

2010-09-10T11:46:00.000-07:00

There has been an unprecedented amount of rudeness in the library this week. What's up?!

Being Barked At
The week started with a well-dressed woman poking her head in on a day when we were closed and yelling in a loud voice "sales catalogs?!" (I'm sitting at a desk approximately 15 feet away.) How do respond to something like this? I say, "excuse me?" to which she yells even louder, "sales catalogs?!"

I then go out on a limb and infer that she either wants to give us some sales catalogs or wants to know if we have sales catalogs. (Sales catalogs by the way are what some people call auction catalogs - like those of Sotheby's and Christie's.) I ask "are you looking for sales catalogs?" and she says, "No! I'm asking if you accept sales catalogs for donations!!" I want to say "then f%$&ing say that!," but I'm afraid this is a board member and have to tread lightly.

After a number of exchanges, I finally understand that she has a ton of auction catalogs she wants to donate to us and I finally make her understand which auction house catalogs we accept and that I'm going to sell what we don't need or already have. She is happy and leaves. I'm left red-faced with elevated blood pressure.

What Would You Like Me To Do?
We have an exhibition coming up on a well-known 20th century artist. We have a lot of tours happening and the docents are crazy to get their hands on anything and everything about the artist. I'm glad they're interested, but...

Before I continue, let me explain how this all works: I have a small book budget each year to buy books for the general collection. These books are available for staff check-out only, but anyone, including docents, can look at them and make photocopies, etc. We have two docent libraries containing thousands of books they CAN check out. However, I do not have a book budget for docent collections. Any books they want to buy are the responsibility of another department. They know this. They are told this repeatedly. This year, my book budget for the general collection was cut by 80%! (Not an exaggeration). So, if I couldn't buy whatever I wanted before, I REALLY can't buy whatever I want now. No amount of begging, pleading, brow-beating, bullying or threatening me will change that. (And, for the record, our docent libraries [yeah, that's right, there are two] are far better and bigger than most other museum libraries' of our size. It's not like I have a track record of being stingy. AND... one of the docent libraries currently has 25 books on the artist of this upcoming exhibition!!)

Now, back to the story... I have bent over backwards to provide what I can to the docents for this exhibition. I've finagled books from curators, done deals with the shop and exchanged publications with other institutions to get books on this artist for both staff and docents. And mind you, this isn't the only exhibition we have going on!

People are coming in and getting physically angry when either A. we don't have a book they want or B. we do have a book, but only one or two copies, and they're checked out. I have explained over and over and over again to people the situation. No one listens. I explain that they should ask this other department to purchase these books. They say "they don't have any budget either." So.... what does that mean.... come on, you can figure it out... come on... It means: NO ONE has any money for this!!! I often remind them that we are in the midst of two spectacular public library systems who will gladly loan them these books. Also, if they're that interested, they might consider buying their own copy so they can make notes.

To most inquiries I explain politely, "my book budget was cut and I've done my best to get what I could." Most of their responses are somewhere along the lines of: "it's absolutely ridiculous that you won't get this." Really.

I am not typically an angry or defensive person (at least I try not to be), but this week has pushed me to my limit.

By the way, people are STILL asking me how my month-long vacation in August was. Sheesh.

Information Overload?

2010-08-08T12:38:00.000-07:00

This month the library is closed to the public. We have a huge book sale at the end of the month and are using this closure to get work associated with that done, along with a thorough inventory to discover mistakes and weed out duplicates.

I promise, this isn't a "crazy idea" that I came up with that no other library does. Many, many libraries close for weeks or a month here or there. Especially when you have one staff person (like me!), it's not unheard of.

In addition to the consistent flack I've taken for this decision, I've also encountered a number of questions and reactions that clearly demonstrate that people don't read or follow instructions.

With this closure, we are only closed to the public. I am still here; my volunteers are still working (quite hard I might add) and the closure has absolutely no affect on staff, docents, interns or volunteers. They can continue to come and go as they please. And I've stated this in as many places and as many times as I can think of: three emails to staff, two emails via their wiki to docents, signage inside and outside of the library, voicemail messages, web site notifications and many, many personal conversations.

I post the following to our docents' wiki on July 14 - two and a half weeks before the closure - because I don't want them to freak out over the closed sign:
I post the following on the Friday before the Monday closure TO THE PUBLIC began because already people are freaking out that the library will be closed:

Additionally, these are the signs I posted inside and outside the library:

And this sign on the reference desk inside:

You can click on any of the images above to see them larger. These images are horrible - I took them with my phone - but, you can see underneath the last sign (the one also posted on the door) it says "We are still open to staff, docents, volunteers and council members." I'm not sure how much clearer I can be.

Here are the following questions and comments I got from docents and a few staff people:
1. Wow, you're going on vacation for a whole month? Where are you going?
2. Didn't you just have a vacation? Where are you going now?
3. I can't believe you are closing the library to docents just weeks before a major show opens. That's really not right.
4. I know I'm not supposed to be in here right now, but I really need to get a book.
5. I know you're not allowed to help me because you're officially closed, but I really need help with the copier.

I should also point out that every time we have been closed to the public (for vacation, because I'm sick, whatever), we have never been inaccessible to the staff, docents, volunteers, interns, etc. Never. Not in the seven years I've been at my job.

And, I had one person from the public, read the sign on the door (the red "closed" sign above), read the note above it stating basically the same information with more detail, then come in to the library and read the other "closed" sign on the counter.

I asked him if I could help him and he said "are you closed?" I wanted to say "No, I just put the three closed signs up on accident." (I know, that wouldn't have been nice, so I didn't).

I was talking to a co-worker about all of this and she relayed a similar story to me about her own experience with not reading instructions. She had sent emails to docents alerting them of some important information. She asked one who didn't follow the instructions why that was. The response "Well, you didn't tell me I had to read the email."

Is That It?

2010-07-25T14:43:00.000-07:00

This week I experienced two instances of what I will call "the big let-down."

I have a real love for "special collections" materials. Typically, this consists of rare, old and unique materials separated from the rest of the collection to be treated more carefully. Also - and this is the best part of it for me - these type of materials have become more artifacts than mere vessels of information. The books themselves become the art objects.

Several years ago, I was able to secure a bona fide exhibition case to display items like this from our library collections. I felt I could finally exhibit some of these amazing books complete with text panels and labels. Typically, I do three to four installations of books a year related to an exhibition on view.

I spend a lot of time preparing. I spend loads of time culling the shelves, thinking about the goals and finding the right books to tell the story. These little exhibitions get advertised in our member newsletter and the case itself is readily noticeable just outside the main doors to the library.

Up until about six months ago I rarely got any feedback about the books and didn't really have a sense if anyone was actually looking at the exhibit. I'd even find the occasional cup ring left from someone who used the case to hold their coffee cup while waiting for a meeting. (Gee, thanks.)

A few months ago, I started to get people coming into the library asking where the book exhibit was. I'd point them to the case; they'd look, say thanks and leave. Yay!

Well, this week, my excitement was shattered. On two separate occasions someone came in and asked "where is the book exhibit?" Excitedly, I'd say "oh, it's right out here..." and direct them accordingly. On both occasions, they looked briefly, then said "is that it?" Both had the sense that they expected much, much more. It seemed to be a big let-down.

Hours of culling, researching and writing and that's what it came down to: is that it?

The Same Thing

2010-07-15T21:58:00.000-07:00

One of my colleague came into my office and asked me if I would help with a request she'd received in the mail. It was a typical research request and I said I would take it.

I put the letter and accompanying copy of the image into my "active research requests" file and didn't really take a look at it until later. When I opened it, I thought there was something familiar about it, but didn't really think twice.

The person had asked me to look at his "pen and ink drawing" of a street scene. I could tell right away this wasn't a hand-drawn sketch, but rather an engraving or intaglio print of some sort. This was one of those requests where several letters in the signature were difficult to make out as well, so coming up with the name was going to be difficult at best.

I thought I'd try doing some searches based on the title of print which was also written out, but clearly legible. It was a French city and street name. This is something I love about Google... I start to type in my search terms and it remembered a search I'd done before. Okay, now I know I've looked at this before for sure.

I'm a pack-rat and keep copies of all of my research requests - just for occasions like this. I went back through my files and found a request on the same piece from nearly two years ago!! Interestingly, it was not from the same person. But it was, however, from someone living in the same city.

I'm going to go out on a limb and say that I'm betting the person I helped with this before had sold it to the person I'm helping now.

Earlier, I told the original requester I tried the title, and a number of variations on what I thought the name could be. I do remember spending hours on this. Nothing, absolutely nothing came up. With this being the case, it's fair to say there's not really a market for this person's work.

I'll be telling this person the same thing. Only this time, I won't be putting in hours of searching ahead of time.

Yikes!

2010-06-06T14:42:00.000-07:00

I've been out of the country and not writing. I'm back now, so here's a double dose. See below.

How I Got Here

2010-06-06T14:36:00.000-07:00

I've had three requests lately asking about how I got to my current position and the pros/cons of a second masters and the MLIS (Masters of Library and Information Science) degree itself. Here goes:

When I entered college, I never imagined myself being a librarian. I always loved my school librarians, but never thought about that as my intended career. I began as an engineering student, then moved over to the School of Visual Arts when I realized I liked math, but didn't want to do it as a career, and remembered how much I liked design and art history. I ended up going the interior design and art history route for undergrad.

I had worked at the campus museum developing a small library for them (still didn't get it that I was destined to be a librarian) and ended up working in a mid-size museum in the education department when I graduated. I knew I needed an advanced degree in art history to go anywhere in the museum field, so I then went back and got my MA in Art History.

For my MA, through a series of chance encounters and being at the right place at the right time, I ended up focusing on early book production in Europe as my specialty and wrote my thesis on a 16th century Venetian costume book. It took me two years to write my thesis and during that time I worked as a graduate assistant in the Department of Special Collections in the university's library. I also spent two years during my coursework working in the Art Department's Visual Resources Center (slide library). It was in those two experiences that I finally realized I wanted to be a librarian.

I decided then that I'd go on for an MLIS, rather than a PhD in Art History. I got into a program and during my course of study, did fieldwork, directed studies and assistantship work in the Art Department's Visual Resources Center, the Department of Special Collections (University Library), and several special libraries.

When I graduated with my MLIS it was the height of the "Internet Boom" and I took several jobs related more to web design and content management than physical libraries. The pay was amazing, but it was not satisfying. I started volunteering one night a week in the museum library system of which I am now head. I did this for two years.

Then, the person I replaced announced she was retiring after 34 years and I just knew I had to go for it. I interviewed four times, waited six months and was ultimately offered the job. It was a substantial pay decrease. Substantial. But, it was completely worth it.

Is the MA in Art History critical?
For me, yes. However, I have to stress that every museum and art library situation is different. I work in an encyclopedic museum with many, many focuses. There are other art library environments with more tailored focuses. There are design school libraries when technical knowledge is more important than art historical knowledge. There are environments where you're the only one and have to know everything. There are environments where you are part of a team and are required to know about certain subject areas particularly.

I also know many incredibly well respected art librarians who do not have art history degrees. I even know some without library degrees. They got there because of their hard work, experience and ability to learn quickly.

Times have changed too. I have a number of graduate and recent graduate students as volunteers who have not found jobs in this field. I think now that the second masters really helps distinguish you.

My advice here would be to join listservs where these types of jobs are being posted and see what the requirements are. ARLIS/NA (Art Libraries Society of North America) has a great listserv: ARLIS-L. The American Association of Museums (AAM) has a job site too.

What are the pros and cons of the MLIS degree?
I strongly encourage anyone who wants to work in any kind of museum to get an MLIS. Yes, there is a lot of theory and best-case scenario kind of work that goes on (that you will likely never use in the real world), but you also get a lot of practical knowledge and an environment where you can get real world experience through assistantships, student jobs, directed fieldwork and directed studies. I use a lot of things I learned in school in my everyday job.

Additionally, we want to do everything to dissuade the idea that volunteers can do what we do. That, somehow, libraries don't need professionally trained and educated staff to run them is ridiculous. I come up against the notion that "anyone can run libraries" all of the time. I can tell you truthfully that I would not be able to do my job without my educational background and my past library experience.

If you want to be a librarian and have the time/money/means to get an MLIS, do it!

[Amendment 6/14/10: I'm going to amend something I've said here. By saying "do it!" I mean that you'll mostly likely need that degree and you really will have to do it. Don't expect to get a library position without it. However, it's difficult to get a job in this field right now - very difficult. There are jobs, but they are far and few between. If you go for the MLIS, know it will likely be tough getting a job in the next few years in an art-related field. However, you're still going to need the degree to get the job eventually. Just be aware: it's really, really tough out there right now!!]

I'm happy to respond to more questions about any of this. Feel free to ask them here.

The Public Hours vs. By Appointment Dilemma

2010-06-06T14:33:00.000-07:00

Currently, we are open to the public for walk-in hours three full days a week. For a variety of reasons, I would really, really like to make my library "by appointment only." Staff and volunteers could continue to access the library whenever they like (as they do now); this would apply only to members and the public.

I'm the only staff person and every time I am on vacation, sick or my child is sick, I have to close the library. Of course, I post this closure on my phone message, our web site and with signage, but people might not check this before coming. You can imagine the irate phone messages and emails I receive when someone's made an effort to get here and we're closed. Honestly, I don't blame them.

As I mentioned, I'd like to make it appointment-only, but I feel like doing that would be as good as writing my own pink slip. We have just experienced the fifth round of layoffs at my museum in the seven years I been here. Each time this happens, I think: "How could they have possibly cut that person?" "There's no one left to take that on!" and "How are we going to get by?" I've already learned that hard work, seniority, likability and loyalty mean nothing. It really comes down to "Are you critical to the operation?" and "Will positive public perception deteriorate without the function you provide?"

In my case, having such open access to the public is part of my "critical" nature. Restricting this openness makes me seem less critical to the powers that be and perhaps to the general public.

What to do...

Takes the Cake

2010-05-06T11:24:00.001-07:00

My first reference question of the day truly takes the cake:

A man calls describing himself merely as "Bob" (what is it with the Bobs?) and wants value information on some paintings.

Okay, that's not unusual. I give him my normal spiel about how we are unable to determine value, etc., etc. I tell him I can try to find places that have sold work by the artist and put him in touch with them. He says "okay."

Then, I ask him what the artist's name is and he gives me a last name. Then, I ask him if he knows the first name and he proceeds to spell and re-spell the first name in a number of inconsistent ways. "It's Hiro, no it's Hero, no it's Mish, no it's Misi..."

I stop him and say "what is the subject matter of the work." He says he doesn't know. He then proceeds to tell me they were stolen. Okay, wait a minute... you have artwork that's been stolen, but you can't really remember the name of the artist and you don't remember what they looked like?!

Am I the only one who thinks something's up here? How do these people get my number?

A Week of Coolness

2010-04-30T09:54:00.000-07:00

ARLIS Conference
This past week I attended the Art Libraries Society of North America Conference in Boston. It was stellar. For me, it can't get professionally better than being with my art librarian colleagues. We commisserated, brainstormed, provided new information and had a great time.

Here are a few cool things I learned about:

PBO: Publisher's Bindings Online at the University of Alabama Library's Special Collections

The Victoria & Albert Museum's Online Collection Database

Jing Software for Video Reference

JSTOR Auction Catalog Project

ARTstor's Shared Shelf

Really, really important resources for documenting and accessing artist files in library collections: Artist Files Online Directory and Documentation and Access

Cemetery GIS Systems by Legacy Mark and NewCom Technologies, Inc. [Yeah, okay this has nothing to do with my library, but my goodness, it's cool; I've got this thing for cemeteries.]

My First $1M Sale

I've been here seven years and this was a first. A patron had two paintings from Russian artists of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

It's horrible, but often my initial response when people send photos is that it's probably nothing or not worth much. Well, I was wrong! I can't authenticate the paintings myself, but if Bonhams or Sotheby's does (that's where I sent him) and determines they're legitimate, well, recent sales of one of the artists totaled well over $1 million dollars.

It's times like these I sort of wished I worked on commission.

How This Blog Helps My Marriage

2010-04-18T17:02:00.000-07:00

Blogging is for me, if nothing else, cathartic. We all have this feeling at one time or another that no one appreciates what we do. If you're like me, you feel frustration about that and need to talk about it. If you work for a non-profit, you probably have a good education, a lot of passion, lots of student debt, and are constantly moving back and forth in your head about whether or not it's all worth it. If you're like me, you feel frustration about this too and need to talk about it.

I do consider my husband my best friend. He is a totally great guy who has a lot of patience and is typically a good listener. I've been with my current employer for nearly seven years and two years as a volunteer before that. The amount of stuff I've brought home and needed to talk about over these past few years... well, it would test anyone's ability to listen and patience.

We still share a lot, of course (and believe me, I listen to a lot of his crap too!), but now I can temper some of "my need to share" with this blog. Thanks everyone for listening!

What I need to share this week:

A New Level of Entitlement
We circulate our collection to staff and volunteers, primarily docents. Volunteers are supposed to keep books out for two weeks, then return them. Several months ago I realized there were so many books checked out to volunteers that were months overdue, that I ran a report and sent letters to nearly forty people. Some of these books had been out for more than a year.

I won't belay the hemming and hawing that ensued with "I didn't even check that book out!" "Really? Because your name, in your handwriting, is on the card." (Yeah, we still have cards, don't go there.)

But, one particular incident was especially interesting. I sent letters and many never replied. Some books trickled in during the next several weeks. Some people apologized, some didn't. While I was with a visitor, one person brought in a DVD they had checked out along with the "please return" letter I sent; she held it up so I could see it, literally slammed it down on my desk and stormed out. I was stunned, but couldn't do anything because I was with someone.

I go into my office a little later and go to check in the DVD. The DVD is clearly marked with the name of my library in two places and has a library spine label on it. This person has put her own name and address - printed! - on the DVD in two places!! It took me a while to get these labels off. Why would someone do that?

It's Like Retail
The last incident I'll mention reminded me greatly of my retail days during undergrad. If you ever worked at the mall, and worked the closing shift, you may remember those people who come in to the store and start shopping at 8:55pm when the store closes at 9pm. My experience was always that those people took FOREVER and were always particularly high-maintenance: even though you said you were closing, they would take several trips to the dressing room, ask you to get additional sizes, chit chat, etc. You were really just there to serve them.

I had a student (whose paper was obviously due the next morning), come to the library five minutes before closing. He even asked what time we were closing and I told him. We discussed what he needed, I let him browse the section and pull books and then he needed to make photocopies. I told him we were closing and he said he had one photocopy left. I waited. He kept copying. I shut the blinds and started turning off the lights and computers. He kept copying. I said "I really have to go" (and I really did have to be somewhere!) and he kept copying. Finally, I said "this is your last one" and stood right by the copier. He stopped, got his copies, told me thank you (at least he was nice), and ran to the elevators. Once again, my demure Southern upbringing got in the way. Next time, I'll shut the copier off.

Again, thanks for listening!

Drunk?

2010-03-28T20:15:00.000-07:00

It is truly interesting how things come and go in waves. I'm sure it happens to lots of people at their jobs and in all sorts of unexpected ways. These last two weeks I've had waves of people who seemed, well, intoxicated when they called.

This is particularly odd because people historically call and either:
1. begin by defending why their calling or flattering me: I'm a member (you don't have to be a member), I don't know anything about doing research (that's what I'm here for!) and I don't like to use those computer things (ho hum), I always go to a librarian when I need help because you guys are so great (well, thank you!) or
2. I barely say hello before they let me know they are the authority and I should help them with their request and if I can't find anything on this artist there must be something wrong with me ("where did you get your degrees from anyway?")

The first person's call was taken by one of my volunteers. I was across the room and I could see she was a little unnerved by the person on the other end. I heard her say "maybe I should let you talk to the librarian..." Uh oh. I get on the phone and have to keep asking the person to repeat himself. When all was said and done he was looking for information on three paintings. Getting the subjects and the names on the works took a very long time. In between answering my questions he would go off on a tangent about something and interject with a very loud snicker (nearly cartoonish). When I finally got off the phone, I turned to my volunteer and said "I think he was drunk;" to which she replied, "I think you're right."

The next two calls came over my voicemail. I didn't have the pleasure of speaking to either of these gentlemen in person. (Luckily.) The first I would describe as almost a dandy who'd had one martini too many. The "dahrlings" and the "exquisites" nearly made me burst out laughing. My first thought is "maybe it's one of my dear readers trying to play a joke on me..." Hey, it's happened.

I honestly can't tell you what the second request was for because I literally couldn't understand a thing through the slurring and occasional long periods of silence. (And for those of you thinking, maybe he had an accent I couldn't understand? Maybe he had cerebral palsy or a speech impediment? Seriously, he didn't.) Did I mention a couple of hiccups?

For these last two especially, I wish I had a way of digitizing the recordings from my voicemail and playing them for you here. It probably seems like I'm exaggerating or making this all up.

Honey, I wish I was.

If you're interested in seeing more hilarious photos like this one, head over to Funny Pictures of Drunk People. [Be warned this site might not be appreciated by everyone. I do not endorse it's contents - at all. But, I do find some of them pretty freakin' funny.]

I've Seen You Before

2010-03-07T11:39:00.000-08:00

I often wonder if people realize the effect this bad economy has on people like librarians. You've heard me mention again and again on this blog that we deal with "Antiques Roadshow" kinds of questions frequently (in my case on a nearly daily basis). My stance is that I cannot appraise or authenticate anything. I under no circumstances can tell you how much something is worth, but, if I have enough information from the patron I might be able to figure out who it is and let you know if there is even a hint of a market for your artist. I MIGHT. Sometimes, I find nothing.

I bring up the bad economy because people are truly getting more desperate. I do understand people are feeling hopeless. I watched the senate hearings on insurance companies raising their premiums and heard from individuals who are truly suffering and unable to afford health care. It made me sick and I do sympathize that people are in desperate need to get money wherever they possibly can. I just wish I wasn't the one who had to occasionally deal with this desperateness.

When I work on requests where someone ultimately wants to know a selling value, I can't find anything and I've really looked everywhere - and I get a sense that the person is desperate - I do try to relay that this isn't going to solve their financial woes and gently suggest that they move on to something else. Some people just don't listen. You may remember the unpleasant incident with the woman and her "Rubens" sculpture.

This week's incident was something a bit more disturbing that I hope is not becoming a trend: I've told you I can't find anything, then you wait - maybe even a few months - and then come back again hoping that this time my answer will be different. Further, before they were nice, now they're just belligerent.

A woman came in and I knew I'd seen her before. She looked like the actress Bea Arthur and her demeanor was like Ms. Arthur's from Maude. I remembered her. A year or so earlier, she had brought me photographs of a painting she had of a famous Russian author. I'll be honest, it was a nice painting, but it wasn't a master work. I remember spending hours and hours on this request, engaged a staff member who could read Cyrillic and ended up exhausting every avenue. I really tried and I couldn't find anything. This means there probably isn't a market for this artist. At any rate, I gave her places to go to get second opinions and that was the end of it - or so I thought. In fact, I even wrote about this experience earlier in my blog because she was so nice even though I found nothing.

On Friday, she came back. Unlike the man who had completely forgotten he'd already talked with me about a request, she knew full well she'd already been in to see me. What happened? It was like she had some sort of personality change.

The first thing she said was "oh you're still here" like she was disappointed that she'd have to deal with me again. Maybe she was hoping someone else was here and she could just start this process all over again. She pulled out the pictures that I'd already seen (in fact they were the ones I'd already mailed back to her) and I started to tell her that she'd already spoken with me about it, when she said "you saw these before and I just want you to look at them again." In my head I'm thinking "what does she think has changed in the last year?"

I reminded her that yes I had worked on these before and there really wasn't anything new out there that might (somehow magically) make her work worth lots of money now. [I didn't say the "somehow magically" part.] I asked her if she'd pursued it with the other people I'd suggested and she said "no." I told her that that would probably be the best thing to do and that there really wasn't anything more I could do for her.

She got kind of huffy and shoved the pictures at me. She told me to keep them and try again. Seriously. I told her, again, that I had done all I could and gave her the names of other places to go - again. She finally acquiesced.

I have no idea why I even asked this, but I asked her if she was going to lecture that started in a few minutes. (I neglected to mention that she kept saying she had driven miles and miles to come to the museum. I was hoping that, just maybe, coming to see me wasn't her only reason for visiting.) She said "no" and asked me what it was on. I said "contemporary art in the Middle East." She curled up her nose and said something like "I'm not interested in anything like that." Whatever lady.

Those pictures she left went in the folder, along with the research work that had been done already.

Old Systems

2010-02-27T16:21:00.001-08:00

One thing that drives libraries is standards: cataloging and classification standards, naming standards, preferred terms, etc. Here are some standardized ways of doing things that I have to adhere to, but wish I didn't:

Photography is not an art form
If you're familiar with Library of Congress Classification, you might expect that the bulk of our museum library's holdings fall into the N Class (Fine Arts). They do - about 80% of the time. Interestingly, photography is NOT in the N class; it's in the T Class (Technology) - TR to be specific. This is a symptom of when the Library of Congress Classification System was developed in the late 19th century. Photography was not considered an art form, but merely a technological process. So, every time I get a (gorgeous) book about the work of Alfred Stieglitz, Katy Grannan, Nan Goldin, Paolo Ventura or other photographers whose work is clearly artistic, I have to put it in Technology.

Art by Native Americans is different from other art
Except when a Native artist is deemed a contemporary artist by the establishment (artists like Marie Watt and Brian Jungen), art by Native Americans typically gets classified in the E Class (History of the Americas). This to me is particularly odd, because even marginalizing people isn't done consistently in LCC. If we assume this type of art is here in E because it was seen more as an artifact of a culture than an example of art production, we might be able to make the same (erroneous) assumption about art from other non-European cultures: ancient Chinese art, African art, ancient Islamic art. Interestingly, all of these art forms easily fit into the N Class. Perhaps this is reflective of current events in the late 1800s: the Massacre at Wounded Knee had happened only seven years before LCC was developed. This was the end of the "Indian Wars" period of our history. I'm just saying... it's weird.

Mislaying women's identities
Another phenomenon, which is not at all limited to Library of Congress, is the lack of documented women artists' identities up through the mid part of the twentieth century. It was a tradition in this country, that once a woman married, she lost her maiden name and became known as the wife of her husband: instead of Jane Smith, she was now Mrs. Robert M. Jones. While doing artist file work on less-well-known women artists of this time period, I very frequently cannot find any mention of even the woman's first name. Establishing the identity of such woman is often futile - although they may have many mentions in newspaper articles. We have people in our catalog whose official name is "Mrs. [So and So]." As a woman, this is amazingly frustrating. I'm glad times have changed.

Twilight, Yes Twilight

2010-02-21T09:42:00.000-08:00

I guess because I'm a librarian, an art librarian mind you, I am subject to people's opinions about the things I read.

I read the Twilight series and I garnered some enjoyment from it. I did. I was one of those people who got swept up in it and read all four books in the span of about two weeks.

I'm actually not going to talk about the reasons I liked it or use this space to defend my reading of it. Why should I? It's a series of fictional teen books. I'm not defending Jonathan Frazen's decision to decline being part of Oprah's Book Club or my agreement with Jeanette Wall's The Glass Castle being given an ALA Outstanding Book Award. Why should I defend a book meant for someone 20 years younger than me. It's a free country and I can read whatever I want. (Did that sound like some bratty teen just said that?)

However, recently, I've been asked - over and over again - to defend my choice for not only reading, but enjoying, this series. It was connected with the books' use of un-researched Native American beliefs and rituals brought to light by a recent speaker at our museum. I wholeheartedly agree that using a tribe, not doing research on their practices and beliefs, and then proliferating incorrect information (even in a fictional way) is unfortunate. It's too bad Stephanie Meyer didn't just make up a tribe.

But, still, that part of it had very little bearing on my enjoyment the book. The interesting thing about these recent confrontations raises the question to me about why people feel so strongly about the reading choices people make - when they've read the book or not. I'm a mom and I find similar parallels to the way people feel like they can comment on your parenting style - whether they have kids or not.

I abhor James Joyce's Ulysses. You couldn't pay me enough money to read it again. But... I have tons of friends and colleagues who don't feel as I do. They enjoyed it; they appreciated it. And I respect their viewpoint. Despite feeling differently, I'm not going to pin them in their office and make them defend their opinion. They can read whatever they want and they can enjoy or not enjoy anything they want.

Similar to Harry Potter, Twilight has transformed a formerly I-don't-care-about-reading audience into one that does. I think any book that encourages young people to read and doesn't advocate violence or racism is doing a good thing. I think what's probably missing in our society is a lack of young adults with critical thinking skills. You can read something fictional and know that it's probably not the truth. Historical fiction does this all of the time - just ask Philippa Gregory.

If I don't want to read a book, I don't read it. If you want or don't want to read a book, it's none of my concern. So, really, why do you care so much that I've read and enjoyed Twilight?

How Many Emails...

2010-01-30T15:52:00.000-08:00

I'm hoping this was perhaps a language barrier issue:

(Consider all of this "sic.")

Patron's first email:
hello i have some items that i was wondering about. these are from the louvre in paris from the late 1940's. the collection consists of many different postard books with works from several different artists. also i have a book of Matisse prints that consists of many individual mounted prints by the late artist. i have included photos of some of the items that i have. there are many more prints in the book. [Included in this email were nearly 10MBs of images.]

My response:
Are you interested in value information on these? For the postcards, I would suggest contacting [name and contact information for postcard and print dealer]. For the books, I would suggest: [name of rare book dealer; although, honestly, I don't think these are rare]. Let me know if you need any other information.

Patron's response:
i should clarify that im mostly interested in information on the book of matisse lithographs. there are 16 individual prints that came in one book. they are numbered and signed in the print. some of them are of a limited quantity it looks like. they are all at least 8x10 in size. ill send some more pics. [Included in this email were nearly 10MBs more images.]

My response:
Most of the requests we get are to help identify the artist of a work. Because you already know they are by Matisse, are you interested in finding out the rarity or value of these? Please let me know. Also, I can direct you to [print dealer]. They deal with Matisse prints and could probably tell you exactly what you have. Their information is: [print dealer's information]. Let me know what specifically you would like to know about your prints if it's not about their value.

Patron's response:
yes thank you. that is what im looking to find out. i can send you more info if youd like.

My response:
We aren’t able to help with value information here at the museum as we are not licensed appraisers. I believe one of the two contacts I sent should be able to provide that information to you. [List all of the dealers, etc. whose contact information I've now given him several times and is always at the bottom of these emails.] Definitely give one of them a call. Good luck with your prints!

Patron's response:
i was using a cell phone yesterday, so i wasnt able to go into great detail about the pieces i have. i was wondering if you had any idea of the potential value of the prints that i have... all of the prints are from one book of 16 prints that are individually mounted some are stamped but all are numbered and signed in the actual print itself. the book itself is called Matisse [name of book]. the book of prints as well as the many books filled with hundreds of postcard prints of many different masters was together in a box of things bought at a local thrift store... there are also travel brochures maps and train schedules. it looks as if these all are souveniers of someone who had gone on an tour of europe and had visited some of the major art institutions and museums, including the Luvre in Paris. it feels to me like these pieces are of some importance but im not sure. if you know anything about these please let me know...also id be more than happy to bring them to you too... Thank you again.

My response:
[I didn't send a response this time.]

Yuck and More Yuck!

2010-01-10T09:06:00.000-08:00

If you are one of the two people who follow this blog, you'll be familiar with the person I call "my foot friend." As if the foot incident wasn't enough, he finally crossed the line this past week. If he comes back again, I have the backing of our security department to tell him to leave.

During one of his visits this week another library patron came in to my office visibly shaken and said "there's a guy sitting at the computer next to me who's been downloading porn for the last hour or so." What?!

People, this is an art research library. An art research library. It takes a lot of nerve to look at this kind of material in a PUBLIC library setting; it takes a whole other level of chutzpah to look at it in a small research library where everyone (except me obviously) can see what you're doing. Now, I have to wonder how many other times this has happened and if others were just too polite to tell me.

I guess I have serious intuition issues. This person has been coming in here off and on for years. He's made comments to me that made me think he was personal friends with some people on the staff. He also always came in with some sort of (obviously bogus) art research inquiry. I believed him; I thought he was just an interested patron who found a quiet art library where he could study. I do actually have other regular patrons who do this - believe it or not!

This also brought to my attention that I need to be canvassing the reading room during our public hours, rather than sitting at my desk and working. The super-unfortunate thing about this is that now I'm going to have to be "Miss Stern Librarian" and get in people's business. Because some of the sites he perused ended up planting viruses on one of the library computers, I now have to install filters and lock the computers down even further.

Contemporary art references pornography and nudity all of the time and I have no problem with that. I want people to be able to look at resources related to that on our computers. I don't want to censor what people can look at, but obviously people have a hard time self-regulating. I also don't have the personnel to keep things like this in check. It is not the way I would have wanted to go.

It's too bad that one person messed it up for everyone.

Addendum (1/29/10): Yesterday, after two weeks, this guy came back. I asked if I could talk to him and told him that he'd been observed surfing inappropriate content and also was responsible for downloading viruses that ended up shutting the computer down. He said "sometimes you don't know where links will take you." Whatever. He left without incident.

The Antidote

2010-01-04T20:15:00.000-08:00

Back in September, I wrote a post about reading Seven Days in the Art World, and feeling pretty disenchanted. I've been thinking about this ever since and wondering if I jumped the gun. I've since spoken with others who also felt like it made it all seem meaningless. Maybe I was on the right track?

Then, I watched this video...

One evening, I turned on PBS and caught the tale end of a documentary on contemporary art collectors Herbert and Dorothy Vogel. If you are unfamiliar with them, they are two very regular people (a postal worker and - "ding" - a librarian) of modest means who became passionate about contemporary art and spent their entire lives actively collecting and amassing an amazing collection on a very meager budget.

Recently, the Vogels decided to give their collection to the National Gallery in Washington, D.C. and then to 50 other institutions in all 50 states. It's an incredible gesture. If you're not familiar, take a look here.

The film I saw a tiny piece of was Herb & Dorothy, a documentary film by Megumi Sasaki. You can see more on the film here. I ended up buying the film for our library. If you're interested, my favorite art-film dealer, Microcinema, sells it.

I think this film sheds light on, among other things, the immense joy and curiosity that contemporary art can invoke. It really is just human expression that can move us, irritate us, critique us, make us happy or sad. Importantly for me, it helped me to realize the whole money and social status part, the whole doing something weird for the sake of being weird part, is only part of it.

Niceties

2009-12-28T20:59:00.000-08:00

After a nice five-day weekend and the holidays I expected to return to lots of cranky emails and lots of cranky phone messages.

You know what I got?

Two very nice phone messages both thanking me for work I had done. I didn't need to call them back, didn't need to follow up, I didn't need to do anything. They both were just calling to say thanks.

I also got two very nice holiday cards - and gifts - from my co-worker and a volunteer. A volunteer gave me a present! I was feeling bad I hadn't done enough for my volunteers - they keep everything running!

During my time off I also experienced some amazing thoughtfulness and generosity on the part of family members and neighbors.

Maybe things are looking up.

Phone Photos and Cartoon Strips

2009-12-17T22:32:00.000-08:00

This past week brought new variety to the library: a couple of phenomena I had yet to encounter.

Two patrons came in on the same day with typical questions about who created a work of art each owned. Neither of these patrons had photographs or photocopies, they each had to show me what the work looked like - on their phone! I suspect this method will only increase in frequency.

I use the photo function on my phone all of the time. It's quite handy. I need something at the hardware store and need to show the clerk the broken part I'm talking about, I show them the picture of the part I've taken minutes earlier at my house. It's great and is usually an important part of me getting the right thing.

It is not, however, the best way for me to verify a work of art.

I neglected to mention that neither patron had the ability to get the picture off of their phone and email it to me. One asked if he could send it to my cell phone and, yes, I told him no. That's all I need...

It's difficult enough to try and verify an image from a large high-quality image sent to my email. I've already blogged about some of the large images I can't read. It's nearly impossible for me to make any sort of guess from an image that's less than two inches square.

But there's more... While I was squinting to try to figure out what I was looking at (I never did by the way) one of the patrons surreptitiously kept pulling small cartoon strips from his wallet and handing them to me to read. He didn't say a word, he just kept handing them to me.

I looked at them, found them moderate funny to borderline not funny, gave a smile and just as surreptitiously handed them back. I can play that game too!

I Hate, I Mean Heart, The Rich

2009-11-29T10:02:00.001-08:00

Anyone who works in non-profits is likely familiar with the delicate balance that exists between the haves (the wealthy benefactors who literally make it all possible because of their generous gifts) and the have-nots (the majority of the staff that works for sub-standard wages, doing it because they believe in the cause and are passionate about what they do).

This post is merely an observation on what I've encountered, brought to the forefront of my mind because of a movie line from 1986. Read on...

In recent years I've seen two distinct sides of the "haves." The first group is those who give silently (i.e. no strings attached), and/or are practical and let the doers do their jobs. They listen, advise when asked and trust that their money is being spent wisely. Most have done their due diligence. I will call them "the supporters." In many ways, that's what they are. And I truly do love many of them. [This group will hitherto be denoted by TNH - the nice haves.]

The second group I will term "the oblivious rich." Many are at a point in their lives where they do very little for themselves: someone cooks for them, cleans for them, drives for them, books appointments for them, writes letters for them, answers the phone for them, makes their beds for them, lays out their clothes for them (as I'm writing this, I'm noticing a strong resemblance to the relationship that exists between a parent and a small child... I digress). They either have never had to do any of this, or they've not had to do it in so long, that if asked to do it, they would have forgotten how. [This group will hitherto be denoted by TOR.]

Please understand that I do not take "the haves" for granted. No one is forcing anyone to part with their money on our behalf. Most truly are doing it out of the shear kindness of their heart. And, seriously, we are really lucky to have people in our community that care enough about what we're doing to just give us their money. Without them I wouldn't have a job. I do sincerely appreciate that.

Here are some fun stories I'd like to share about each of these "haves" groups:

TNH Stories

We took a very large book donation and needed someone to help process and catalog it. A group from the museum just gave us money to get this person for nearly a year. On top of it, one from the group also volunteers with me three hours a week to help do some of the processing. It's truly amazing.

There is a core group of funders in our museum that have time and time again come through in times of crisis: a major sponsor pulls out of a show at the very last-minute and they take up the slack, they endow people's positions, they give money when it's needed with no expectation of acknowledgment or fanfare.

I have several extra-special library donors. These people have incredibly large personal libraries and, from time to time, weed their collections and simply give me books that a. I really need and b. could never possibly afford. Wonderful!

TOR Stories

When I was in my early twenties, I worked at a medium-sized museum where the benefactors not only pushed through exhibitions they wanted, they also on occasion exhibited their own work! Oh, the concerns of the curatorial staff and the patrons' lack of expertise (and, sorry but, talent) mattered not. Looking back, I still can't believe that was allowed to happen. Where was the AAM when we needed them?!

Over the years, I've experienced the "elevator ambush" more times than I'd care to remember. I get on the elevator at a low floor and find myself with a gang of TORs. By the time I reach my floor I've had at least one new project suggested to me: "Oh, you're the librarian? You should...[insert whim of appalling proportions]" This "suggestion" (i.e. command) is made to me without respect for my time, the actual details around how much money, effort, personnel it will take and whether or not it will actually matter or have some amount of positive effect.*

Here is a sampling of projects that have been suggested to me:

Why not just digitize all of the artists files (all umpteen thousand of them and their contents)?

Just get a high-grade color copier in here. How expensive could it be? (Try $15,000 plus the ongoing maintenance contract, the very high cost of replacement cartridges, my time every time it jams...)

Why can't we move the archives back here? (All 900 linear feet of them! I don't even have room for all of my books.)

You need to get more space so you can buy more books. (No s#@t!!)

We all know that this is one of the worst financial times in the history of the United States. Corporations and non-profits alike are bare-boned with very low morale. Ask anyone. Really, ask anyone. This is a time when we are barely able to maintain, much less take on time- and resource-consuming projects.

I think people think that because not a lot of new things are happening it's because we've just run out of ideas or creativity, rather than the real reason: there is no money, no personnel and little support for taking on anything new. We're all just trying to survive!

I've observed that the number of TOR suggestions (whims) has risen dramatically during this period. Ho hum.

***

So, what prompted me to write about all of this in the first place? It wasn't because a particular suggestion from a TOR finally pushed me over the edge. (That already happened.) I was recently bed-ridden with the flu and spent a good deal of time watching movies. One of my all-time favorite films Pretty in Pink was on. There is a poignant line in the film that started this whole train of thought. Let me set the scene: Andy, the film's protagonist - a girl from literally the wrong side of the tracks - is justifying to her friend Ducky why she should be able to go out with a rich guy like Blaine - someone who's got a lot of money, but is kind and really likes her. She states:

"Hating them because they have money is just as bad as them hating us because we don't."

True. I'll admit that when I initially react to unpleasant TOR suggestions, I tend to be a hater of the wealthy. But Andy has reminded me: it's not the having money part that causes TORs to make others' lives hell, it's that they've lost their common sense.

*Please, please remember I'm a solo librarian. I am the only one who works in my library.

Why Do I Do It?

2009-11-18T21:05:00.000-08:00

Recently, a friend referred to my blog as "that one where you complain about the patrons." Geez. That wasn't really the reason I was doing this and I hope it doesn't always come across that way.

My reasons for starting this blog were a. partially cathartic (my hubby can't be the only one who hears these stories; well, J and L, you guys too) and b. partially promotional (I think people need to know what we do in museum libraries!) Everyone who works for non-profits works hard (in theory), but it can be a bit cut-throat. And when people don't understand or appreciate what one's job entails, well you're more likely to be suggested for the chopping block when the time comes.

I try to raise awareness about the workings and reality of the museum library. I also hope other librarians read this and say "I'm glad I'm not the only one who does/experiences this." We gotta stick together and I hope people get that.

Do I spend a lot of my blog-space complaining about patrons? I don't see it that way. I try to observe and report.

Yes, I do mention things that annoy me. There was the guy who wanted me to read to him over the phone and the lady who needed her art to be the real thing. There was the idiot-savant Pez kid and the guy who got mad that I didn't know "Bob". There was that Bob and, of course, my foot guy.

But, there was also the appreciative patron and the book fairies. I talk about my amazing volunteers and the the discoveries we make. I talk about the thrill of finding something you thought would have been impossible and about the patron who went above and beyond to show thanks.

Lastly, I get to talk about books. I talk about new books, books on uncomfortable subjects, books that make me question everything and books they can't display at the public library.

I love my job. I really do and I hope I get to keep a while longer.

I'd love to hear more comments. I hope you know I'm not just complaining.

Another Weird One

2009-10-25T12:00:00.000-07:00

Whoa, it isn't a full moon, but it should be.

My day started off on the wrong note... I run for the bus and barely make it (nothing like getting on a packed bus panting) and sit down in the last remaining seat. I should have scrutinized the person in the seat next to me - I would have opted to stand. He is obviously drunk (it's 8:15am folks) and really smells. At this point we've gotten to the next stop and the bus is now full to the brim with people standing and I really have nowhere to go.

I've got my iPod up very loud, but I can tell he's trying to talk to me about something. I look over and he puts his face very close to mine and says "how are you darling?" I show him I've got my iPod on and that I can't hear and hope he'll just leave me alone. He doesn't. He keeps talking, then does stop, but passes out and slumps over on me. It takes all of my strength not to fall off the seat into the person standing next to me. When the bus gets to the next stop, I just get up and move to the back of the bus pushing my way through people. He's startled when he falls over. Then, poor thing, another woman sits down next to him and the whole things starts over again.

I get to work and things are going fine. I'm getting a lot done and I've had some wonderful patrons. Then, my foot friend arrives. [What is it that I do that attracts weird men? My husband calls it the "geek beacon," I call it the "freak beacon."] He's been in the library a lot recently and always manages to kiss my hand (I've been careful to stay behind things so he can't see my feet...) He tells me he needs to talk to me about something. Uh oh. He explains that he really wants to volunteer for me. He'll do anything I need him to do.

Oh man. Quickly, I try to think of something to say that will end this and not have him ask me about it again. I can't and I say, "well, I have enough volunteers right now, but that's nice of you to offer." Not good enough. He asks "when will you have room for more volunteers?" I say, "I'm not sure, but you can always submit a volunteer application and if something comes up, you'll be alerted." Okay, he seems satisfied. After he leaves, I immediately alert our Manager of Volunteer Programs to be on the lookout for this application and to not send him my way. [She's great and I know she will help resolve this professionally if need be.]

Okay, hopefully that's enough of weird men for today...nope. After the foot guy leaves another unusual patron comes in. I've seen him before, but it's been a while. The last time he was in I helped him with what I remembered to be a legitimate research request. He was a little socially inept, but definitely within normal limits. Well, this time I think he was off his medication. He was mumbling feverishly and I really couldn't understand anything he was saying. As he was talking, one of our security supervisors came in (in street clothes) and sat down at one of the computers. Maybe he wants to use the library? Moments later, a guard comes in and then another. Okay, something's going on. I didn't call security, but obviously someone else did.

This patron stops talking to me and sits down at one of the computers. I guess he noticed the guards because moments later, he just stood up and left quickly. The two guards follow. I ask the head of security what was going on. He tells me that this guy was seen and heard in the bathroom earlier saying something about anthrax and art work. Super.

Addendum: I neglected to mention that we also had a fire alarm in the afternoon amidst all of this. It was incredibly blustery outside while we waited for the fire department to give the all-clear...to add insult to injury.

"Volunteers can do it..." and Other Forms of Entitlement

2009-10-25T11:48:00.000-07:00

Yeah, my pledge to put more positive stuff on this blog is being broken straightaway. These last few weeks have been a bit trying. Things have gotten a little tense at times in the library. We just opened several new exhibitions and everybody needs everything...now!

I hold myself partially responsible for some of this activity. The librarian who was here before me was not a fan of our docent corps (tour guides). She told me that bluntly in the one hour she spent with me before riding off into the sunset never to be heard from again. She didn't really like them using the library and they certainly couldn't check out books. Maybe I should have heeded her warning: "Give them an inch and they'll take a mile."

I tried a different take on this. We expanded an existing separate library for them and allowed them to check books out from there at will. I also started the practice of allowing them to check out books for short amounts of time from the general collection - the same collection that circulates to the staff.

This privilege has gotten more and more abused over time. Even though they promise to bring books back in a week, I might not see them for months. Even after this lengthy period, I still have to call, email, then call again to get a book brought back. And then I'm made to feel as if I've ask them to do something very inconvenient. I'm going to implement a reserve desk - with hourly limits - for the next series of exhibitions. I can't wait to see/hear/experience the reaction.

In the meantime, I've had to deal with person after person being upset about a book not being available. I've been told to "well call that person and tell them I want it" when the person checked out the book mere moments before this person arrived. We even bought five copies of some books (which we do NOT have the money to do) and that still wasn't enough. I think if one more person came in and was rude to me about not having a book wrapped and waiting for them to arrive, I might have honestly lost it.

As with many museums, we've suffered financially and personnel have been laid off. Our Audio Visual Department suffered greatly. They were the ones responsible for recording the training presentations that happen. In the past, the idea was that if you missed a training session, you could check out a DVD as a substitute. As you can imagine, soon everyone was like "why should I go to the training if I can just watch it at my leisure later on?" Now, when that department was reduced, everyone was told - several times - that not everything was going to be recorded. Again, they were told this several times in a number of formats (web site, email, in person).

Still people come in and ask where the training DVDs are and get upset - very upset - when I say we don't have them. I explain that some things weren't recorded because of the reduction of staff. "Well, what am I supposed to do then?" one says to me. [Okay, here's another pet peeve of mine: I hate it when someone asks me a question un-rhetorically that I obviously can't answer and then they will wait until I give a response.] What I wanted to say is "maybe you should think about coming to the training next time," but I didn't. I want to also point out that I am merely a resource for them; I do not oversee them, I am not responsible for them.

The other thing which frequently rears its head is "why can't volunteers can do it?" Librarians suffer from this profession-demeaning phenomena a lot. "What do you do? You check books in; you check books out. How hard can it be?" They think that the education (ten years in my case), training and experience are something one can get in a few hours of volunteer training. The same obviously applies to the A/V field. "Well, if they laid people off, then you should get volunteers to do it." [Again, I'm not the person in charge of this, but I am told this frequently.] Our A/V staff have years of training and have to operate very expensive, delicate and technically complex equipment. Most of them, in fact, are filmmakers or people who are passionate about film. The folks in charge of the docents did actually try to use volunteers at one point and it failed miserably.

I want to also make a point about replacing what was once a paid qualifications-preferred position with a volunteer one. Once you make the replacement, it's incredibly hard to go back to paying for that service in the future. Any of us who work for non-profits know this - if there is a way not to pay for the service, the administration will figure out a way to do it in perpetuity.

I guess I just wish rather than acting entitled, people would be a little more sympathetic to the fact that we're in an economy where people are losing their jobs and services are being cut, but we're all still trying to do the best job we can under really difficult circumstances.

Something Wonderful

2009-09-30T16:20:00.000-07:00

Yes, I use this blog to express my frustrations on a variety of topics - namely patrons who are rude, act entitled or are oblivious to the demands of my job.

I was recently reminded, however, that for every one of the frustrating encounters I have, I have an equally positive - and sometimes truly gratifying - experience. I shared one of these experiences more than a year ago. Like the evening news, with this blog I tend to dwell on the negative, rather than the positive things.

I'll try to be better about the balance. I'm a positive person in real life. Maybe that's been hard to pick up on?

At any rate, about a month ago a person emailed me from very far away with a very normal request: he had some work by an artist local to my geographic area and wanted to know if I could find some information about him. This was actually a pretty easy request. I hit my normal artist databases and found great information. We even had an artist file on the artist.

I photocopied everything from the file and printed out the additional information. I got the patron's address and mailed everything to him. Super easy.

Now this is usually the end of the story. I never hear if the person received it and have no idea if anything became of the work in question. That's totally fine. I don't expect anything.

A couple of weeks later, however, something wonderful happened. I received a very gracious letter in the mail from the patron. He compliments the service, explains how the information will help him and gives me a little insight into his situation: he's retired, he had always been an art lover, but age and physical ability have kept him from visiting museums as he would like. He also enclosed a book he had written and signed it to me. I learn through a little research that he is a well-respected oceanographer who has published extensively.

I now not only feel appreciated; I feel loved.

Seven Days

2009-09-09T11:48:00.000-07:00

I recently read the book Seven Days in the Art World by sociologist, and occasional contributor to The New Yorker and The BBC, Sarah Thornton. Booklist summarizes it this way:

Art and business, personal quests and personality cults, big bucks and the triumph of concept over beauty, being cool and in the know—these are the cardinal points in the contemporary art world. Enter Thornton, an art historian and sociologist with moxie and a brilliant game plan. Willing to ask obvious questions, she infiltrates the seven circles of this competitive realm.

Even though I work at a museum that has a pretty substantial contemporary art collection, I still found the information in this book eye-opening and informative. It also made me seriously question the validity of contemporary art.

This book exposed my concern with the idea of the artist's studio. What does it really mean when the "artist" is merely the concept person, not the maker? It also gave a voice to my suspicion that collecting has little to do with the work: is it truly because of a passion for the art or because contemporary art happens to be preferred commodity of the jet set?

My declared area in graduate school was the Renaissance, specifically book production in Italy. I've always loved historical art more than contemporary, but often feel guilty about that - it's contemporary art that's where it's at.

I thought a lot about art styles and periods that I really like: early-printed European books, lush Venetian cinquecento paintings, the Hudson River School painters, the French Academic painters, the German Enlightenment painters, Gilded Age portraiture, French and British porcelain, 19th century photography, and, admittedly, many many contemporary photographers, specifically: Loretta Lux, Katy Grannan and Niki Lee.

Maybe it's the conceptual part of contemporary art that alludes me. Maybe it's the documentation aspect of historical art that attracts me. Maybe I just need to see beauty and feel like that's not really the aim of most contemporary work.

Don't get me wrong. There are contemporary painters, installation artists and sculptors I like as well, but I often fear I like them for the wrong reasons:

Damien Hirst is quite handsome and friends with a lot of cool rock stars.
Jeff Koons is admittedly a bastard and I detest a great deal of his work, but some of it just makes me happy.
Anne Hamilton has ended up with dead animals in several of her installations, but I appreciate the immense coordination, sensory overload and technique that goes into her work.
Liam Gillick is also quite lovely and has a beautiful voice.

See what I mean?

My own contemporary art collection (which is very modest) is mostly photographs. I have them because they were made by a friend and/or speak to me in a very meaningful way. They stir some emotion in me or remind me of something. They document something: a place, a friendship, a history.

I'd be interested to hear from others who've read this book. What is your opinion of Contemporary Art? Did it change by reading the book?

Esotericism

2009-08-26T13:50:00.000-07:00

In two days time, I had two requests whose answers I would have sworn I could never find.

The Transcript

The first was a patron asking for a transcript of a radio broadcast from 1945. There was a tribute to a local artist done, shortly after his death, by someone from our museum. An "official" transcript was made following the broadcast.

In a nutshell, our archives and historical documentation situation is deplorable. We've never paid to have an actual archivist on staff, so over the years bits and parts of record tracking and storage has been done by this person or that person, never the same way and with very little guidelines or policies in place. To find anything now from something that happened that long ago entails going to multiple locations, guessing which box it might be in, sifting through the entire box, then - in most cases - not finding what you were looking for. It sucks.

The probability of me finding a transcript of a 1945 radio broadcast was beyond finding a needle in a haystack. I nearly laughed out loud when the patron asked me for it. I wanted to say "you have no idea how unlikely your getting this is."

Glad I didn't, because I actually found it!

It's times like this I think the stars have aligned. Another patron - completely unrelated to the first - comes in and happens to ask for any information I have on the same artist. I say we have an artist file on this person and a couple of checklists. I go to get the file, bring it out, and guess what falls out?! Yes, the transcript.

I call the other patron back and tell her I've found it. She thinks I'm a genius and I tell her the story of genius having nothing to do with it - I should have looked there in the first place (low-hanging fruit...)

The Schematic

I could probably write an entire blog entry on just the phone-call portion of this next request.

A guy is transferred to me and he immediately launches into a diatribe about a large public sculpture that stands in front of our building. He's completely obsessed with how it works (part of it moves). When I say obsessed, I mean obsessed. He goes on and on and on about how it should work, why it should use steam instead of an electric motor, and much, much more. He literally had me on the phone for thirty minutes. I kept trying to break in, but he didn't hear me.

Finally, I had to be rude and tell him that was enough. I took down his contact information and told him I would try - even though we don't own the sculpture (it belongs to the city) - to find the schematic drawing he so needed to see. I explained over and over that it wasn't our piece and that it was highly unlikely I'd find it.

I'll be completely honest. I knew I wouldn't find it. It's not even our sculpture. I can't get my hands on stuff like that for items we actually own. My plan was to photocopy some articles about the piece, mail it to him and hope that that would satisfy him. In the note, I gave him the contact information for the people who actually do oversee it. Hopefully, our relationship is over.

The day I plan to mail him the articles, I have to get something from one of our public sculpture files. I open the folder and guess what falls out?! The schematic!! I mean seriously, why is this here? It's super tiny. It's like half a sheet of 8 1/2 x 11 paper. I don't care. I enlarge it to 11 x 17 and add it to his packet of information.

Now, if someone would only ask me to find a million dollar bill for them. Of course, if I did find it, they'd never know; and if they called my office, I'd be long gone...

Misuse of Authority

2009-08-12T22:03:00.000-07:00

I get a lot of unusual requests - you all know this.

This particular exchange started off badly... I get a voicemail message where I can barely understand what is being said. This isn't any sort of language issue, it sounds more like a bad connection. What I understand is: it's a woman, she's a teacher and she wants information about um... something. I can't even understand the phone number she leaves, but luckily the phone system will tell me the number if someone is calling me directly.

So, I have the number and I call the person back. I get her voicemail. Interestingly, I can't understand what she's saying on her voicemail message - including her name - so I just say who I am and that I got her message, but couldn't understand it, and could she call me back. I get the feeling this person doesn't speak into the receiver when she talks on the phone.

I get many, many calls throughout the day. I also have lots of stuff going on when I'm not on the phone. In short, I wasn't waiting with anticipation for her to call me back. Later in the day someone calls and says "This is so and so" (that's it) and I say "How can I help you?" and she replies "You called and left me a message" (that's it) [okay, stop for a sec, I leave lots of messages for people - including people who sometimes take weeks to call me back]. I still have no idea who this person is and I say "can you tell me what the call was about?" She gets huffy, but I let it slide and, after some back and forth, we figure out she was the I-can't-understand-you person.

Okay, now it's time to get to the heart of the matter - the request. She bought several paintings at a garage sale and she wants to know what they're worth. (Okay, that's typical, no problem at all.) Then she says that, since she's a teacher, she wants her students to find out how much these paintings are worth and can I show her students - I now find out these are middle school age students - how to do the research. Maybe she could send them down sometime.

Alright, wait a minute. So you buy the art, you make your students do the work to find out what it is and what it's worth and then you use the results of the "school project" to make money? I kind of got the feeling they were her little assistants. It was like Amway or something. Most people pay other people to do their art research (except in my case notably).

This is all just fraught with problems. First of all, we're a research library for the serious study of art. We don't advertise to elementary and secondary age kids because, well, it's just not the right library for them (not all of them, but most of them). I also got the feeling that this was something the kids would be doing on their own time. She didn't mention setting up a field trip for them. Lastly, she told me that she had already done extensive Google searches and called the art department at her local public library and no one could find any information on these artists. So, an adult searching Google can't find it; the adult art librarians at your local library can't find it, but you think your middle schoolers can?!

This bad economy has really driven people to desperation. I suggested that if her goal is to teach her students how to research a work of art, then to call and ask her public library to set up some sort of presentation where she could bring the kids and they could learn some simple research methods. No, she wasn't interested in that at all. Her bottom line was what the paintings were worth.

For the first time, I leveled with a patron. I told her if you did searches and the art librarians did searches and found nothing, then it probably means there is no market for this work and they probably aren't worth anything.

Her response: click.

Invading My Personal Space

2009-07-29T11:42:00.000-07:00

I'm curious if any of you out there ever experience anything like this.

A couple of years ago, a man came into the library to do some research (on what, I cannot remember). He came right into my office, sat down and started talking. He was a little more forward than the normal patron who apprehensively walks in and asks if I can help them. Totally fine. I don't have a problem with that.

He asks me about the pictures on my wall of my husband and my kid. Okay, well, that's a little weird, but maybe he's just super friendly. I end up getting to whatever his research needs were and direct him to some resources. I go back in my office and nearly forget about him still being out in the reading room. (I have no volunteer that day and both my office mates were out - as I clearly remember.)

I go out in the reading room and am briefly startled to see him still there (he was so quiet) and ask him how he's doing. He says he's finishing up and asks "what's wrong with your foot?"

What?

"What's wrong with your foot?" he says again. I look down and (okay I've got a severe protein deficiency that sometime makes one of my ankles swell ever so slightly, but seriously, even my husband doesn't notice it - it's really slight) think "can he be talking about the swelling?" He says "your ankle and foot are swollen - does it hurt?" "No, it's totally fine" I say wishing I could find some sort of massive block table to hide my legs behind.

Seriously, before I even knew what happened, he has me sitting down in a chair, my shoe off and he's "adjusting" something on the bottom of my foot. I know what you're all thinking... why the hell did you let him put his hands on you? In my defense I can only say that it happened quickly, without any ask for permission, and I have to say whatever he did totally made my ankle and foot feel better - but I wasn't letting him know that.

I tell him that's enough and that I need to get back to my desk. He tells me thanks for the artist information, takes my hand and kisses it and then leaves. Even though he put his hands on me - well, on my foot - I have definitely experienced a lot worse. He hadn't told me he was hiding from Oliver Stone (who was trying to kill him), he hadn't told me he was lovers with the 90+ year old woman who was our library's benefactor, he hadn't had some sort of fit then gone and shot up in the bathroom (yes, it happened). But, it was still weird and I realized I needed to be a LOT more present.

Well, it's been two years, and guess who just came in this past week? Yes, my foot friend. Everything started exactly the same way it did last time - comes right in, sits down, starts talking. Yes, I'm still married; yes, I still have a child; yes, my marriage is fine - sheesh. This time, I do NOT move from behind my desk. Also, I have a male volunteer here today and my two co-workers are both in their offices. I instruct my volunteer to show him the catalog and help him. He does and everything is fine.

When this patron goes to leave, he comes in to say goodbye, takes my hand and kisses it. If he'd looked like Matthew Macfadyen, I probably would've been elated, but in this case, I wasn't.

No Means No

2009-07-25T13:28:00.000-07:00

Recently, I've experienced patrons who either won't take "no" for an answer or who have selective memories and forgot that we already told them "no." Here's what happened:

I'm Not a Children's Librarian

A patron calls and says he is looking for information on an American illustrator, a woman, who he believes illustrated several magazines and books. I do some research and find that I have a listing for her and several examples of her work from books about illustrators, but that's it. I don't have any books for which she did the illustrations. [Two things to note: 1. most of the books she illustrated were children's fiction - something we don't carry in an art museum library and 2. this was all done over the phone.]

He asks me again - as if I didn't hear him - if we have any books with this person's illustrations in them and I again say "no." I even look at the local public library's catalog to see if they have something by this person, but because illustrators are often not captured in the record, it was difficult to tell if they did have something. I suggested he call that library, speak to a children's librarian and see if they can help - since they have literally hundreds of thousands of children's books. He sort of says "okay," then hangs up.

I think it's over. I can't help everyone and I've sent him on to someone who I truly believe can help him.

Months go by - I've nearly forgotten about the exchange - and then a man comes into the library and asks for help. I start the reference interview and then realize this is the man who called me months earlier and he is asking me the exact same question. I stop him and say "oh, we already talked about this on the phone." "We did?" he says. I go and got the reference request form that documents the exchange and the eventual result (yes, we do keep these; yes, I'm a hoarder). I show him the request, verify that he is indeed the person that I have listed, and then he proceeds to ask me if I've ever found any books in which she'd done the illustrations.

Seriously.

I tell him - once again - that we wouldn't have any of her books because we're an art museum library, not a library that carries children's literature. We have a sort of stare-off. He wins (yeah, I'm no good at that). I go and write the name of the public library, its address and its phone number and tell him that's all I can do for him.

He probably would have continued to ask me about it except I did something I don't normally do... I turned my back to him and went back in my office. He finally walked out.

Sometimes, You Have To Let It Go

A woman comes into the library. I can tell right away that's she's pretty well to do. I better be nice to this one...

She asks me if we keep back issues of our museum newsletter and I tell her yes. She asks me if she can see the last two years' worth and I say yes and bring them out. She looks frustrated after looking through them all, so I ask her if there is something particular she's looking for and she describes a piece she'd seen in one of the newsletters. She was positive it had appeared within the last two years.

She described the piece to me and - honestly - I didn't remember anything like it. I racked my brain and thought maybe she seen it in another mailing the museum had done, so I asked the membership department if it rang a bell for one of the mailings they did. It didn't. I told her that, but she wasn't ready to give up. I searched our online collection with all of the information she had given me - possible title, materials used, even acquisition years and couldn't find it. I called the Registrar and explained the object. She looked through for the past several years and more just going on the description and also wasn't successful. I tell the patron this as well. Nope, she's sure of what she saw and won't give up until her inquiry is answered.

The only other thing I can think of is it could have been some sort of marketing piece that was neither a membership mailing nor a newsletter. I tell her I'll speak with the marketing department and get back to her after my vacation. She is nice and thanks me and says she'll be in touch.

In this instance, the patron was pleasant, didn't seem mentally ill in any way and just really seemed like she'd felt passionate about a piece she'd seen and wanted to track it down. I think that all still totally falls within the realm of "normal."

I send the request to the marketing department after she has left. Moments later one of my coworkers - the collections researcher - comes into my office. She has been contacted by marketing about my request because it doesn't ring a bell to them. She lets me know that she and the head curator have already dealt with this person several months back. She came to them with the exact same question and after a lot of work, they weren't able to find it either.

So, she'd already gone this route with our staff before, but said nothing to me about it! In other words, they'd told her "no," so she came to me to see if I could somehow come up with the answer.

I suppose I should feel flattered that she thought I somehow might know more than the head curator and the collections researcher about our collection. Because, believe me, I don't.

In July

2009-07-25T13:27:00.000-07:00

Yikes, time has gotten away from me this month. Sorry for the lack of blog entries. I'm officially on vacation for the next week, so I am carving out some time to do this. Stay tuned...

I Saw Bob

2009-06-30T19:40:00.000-07:00

So, there is a patron who has now come in the library three times who totally looks like "Bob" from the 1990s television series Twin Peaks. I'm not talking about Bobby Briggs, Shelly's smart-mouth boyfriend; I'm talking about Bob, Laura Palmer's supposed killer. Bob who was seen briefly hiding at the foot of Laura's bed. Bob who totally gave me nightmares for years after seeing that show.

[If you have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about, see here, here and especially here.]

Before I go further, I want to say that this fear-invoking library patron is soft-spoken, seems quite gentle, and is always appreciative about what he learns during his visit. There's nothing at all in his behavior that suggests he's anything like Bob.

But it doesn't matter. I was really into Twin Peaks and it definitely lives on in my memory. Every time I see this patron, I'm startled and it takes me a moment to recover and act normally. I'm usually in the stacks or have my back turned or something when he comes in. I turn around and there he is.

This poor guy... it's not his fault that David Lynch decided to hire actor Frank Silva after catching the lighting designer and prop master accidentally on camera in a mirror (see here). It's not the patron's fault he resembles Bob, I mean Frank, at all.

Interestingly (and sadly), Silva died in 1995. So, this library patron is undoubtedly not him. My subconscious imagines he's a visitor from the Black Lodge all the same. My practical side, however, says "conquer your fears" and give him a hug the next time he comes in.

Then we'll see who's scared of who.

Why do you even call?

2009-06-21T16:52:00.000-07:00

Just when I was starting to feel appreciated, I had a couple of weeks of "interesting" research requests via the phone.

The first person called me and wanted to know the title of a painting that was in an "Impressionist show the museum had a couple of years ago." This caller was more prepared than most in that she had the name of the artist and could readily describe the painting for me.

Okay, so, I know sometimes a show five years ago can seem like "a couple" of years, so I start as far back as 2000 to see if I can locate the work. Since 2000, we've had several exhibitions on Impressionism specifically or on themes/collections that included late 19th century French painting. The painter in question was a minor Impressionist, and before I went through all of the exhibition checklists, I listed the shows for her and asked if any exhibition titles rang a bell. None of them did. She said I must be missing some. I ask her again if she was sure it was at our museum and that it was in the last couple of years. She got a bit snippy and said that yes it was - on both counts.

I tell her I'll need some more time to pursue this and that I'll have to call her back. She's not gracious nor appreciative. Maybe I'm a masochist, maybe I've got some sick sense of duty to answer a question - even for a rude patron. I spend about an hour and finally find the answer. The work was in a show in the early 1990s! More than 15 years ago...

There's a part of me that can't wait to call her back and tell her how off she was (I don't). I call and start to tell her the name of the work and when it was on view when she cuts me off: she already found the answer; she had the catalog from the show and simply turned to the page to find the answer. She doesn't even say thank you for trying or "silly me, I should have looked there in the first place," or "sorry to have bothered you." Whatever.

The next patron calls and wants to inquire about the value of a print by a Mexican artist. When someone says "print" (and I am convinced it's some sort of limited edition print, not a poster) and "value" in the same sentence, I immediately direct them to a large gallery in town that truly specializes in all sorts of old master and contemporary prints: lithographs, intaglios, woodblocks prints, literally everything. This is their primary business and they can tell someone right away about authorship, numbering, and ultimately, value. Additionally, they know about many, many artists, globally. A look at their list of artists reveals a number of nationalities, including Mexican.

So, the patron tells me flat out she just wants the number to a gallery or appraiser that will help her determine the rarity and value of this print. I proceed to give her the phone number of the aforementioned gallery. Then, she proceeds to tell me that she knows everyone that works there and "has been around [city name]'s art scene probably since before I was born." She knows that they specialize in prints; she also knows that they only know about European artists. I tell her that that isn't the case now and list for her the names of the non-European, mainly the Latin and South American, artists. She proceeds to tell me again that she already knows about this gallery. So do you want the number or not? No, she doesn't - she says she can look it up in the phone book herself. Goodbye.

If you already know the answer to something - and on top of it you like to flaunt your knowledge - please don't call me. You'd probably be better off writing for About.com or a similar answering service where you are labeled an "expert."

All the Way Through

2009-05-25T09:02:00.000-07:00

This past week I had one of these moments where I had total success in answering a research request.

Our library is fairly small comparatively speaking. And, most of the time, there is some book or journal resource that I can' t access because we don't have the book or we don't have access to the database that can access it. Normally, there is one part of the puzzle missing and I have to make an educated assumption (and will always tell the person that). This week, however, no assumptions were necessary...

The question came to me from one of our docents (tour guides). She asked me about the meaning or symbolism of a horse reared up off its front legs in a John Trumbull painting of George Washington. I immediately went to the exhibition catalog in which I knew the painting was elaborated. [Have the catalog to the exhibition, check.] In it, it said that “Washington’s pose has much in common with the Apollo Belvedere, [a Greek sculpture, constructed in the 4th Century BC], but may derive more directly from a figure standing in relief against a horse in the Parthenon procession frieze.” A print of the Parthenon Frieze was available widely in Trumbull’s day through the book The Antiquities of Athens (London: 1762-1794).

The above information was attributed to a book called John Trumbull: The Hand and Spirit of a Painter (New Haven, CT: Yale University Art Gallery, 1982). [I look in the OPAC and find we have this book too, check.] I learned through an essay that “the strong diagonals, the superimposition of forms upon one another in an almost cluttered fashion, the agitated horse and turbulent sky, all relate to [Benjamin] West’s proto-Romantic battle paintings of the 1780s.” From the same book, we have the relationship to the Parthenon Frieze confirmed: “Whether inspired by the Apollo Belvedere or by a more ordinary Roman statue of a worthy in the ad locution pose, [Washington’s] stance and gesture evoke the noble grandeur associated with classical sculpture in the late eighteenth century. It is also possible that the placement of Washington in relief against a horse viewed from the side was inspired by one of the marble groups in procession frieze of the Parthenon. The entire frieze was illustrated by [James] Stuart and [Nicholas] Revett in their Antiquities of Athens, with this particular plate published in June 1789, while Trumbull was still in London.”

I consulted with a curator for further information about this stance and she suggested a book published by the Smith College Museum of Art in the 1980s. I looked for the exhibition catalog Promoted to Glory: The Apotheosis of George Washington, (Northhampton, MA: Smith College Museum of Art, 1980) in our OPAC and find miraculously that it's there. [Find next exhibition catalog, check.]

In this catalog, I learned about the availability of George Richardson’ 1779 edition of Cesare Ripa’s Iconologia (London: 1779; originally, Rome: 1603), also available when Trumbull was in London. From here, we learn that shortly thereafter Trumbull painted “from memory an early portrait of Washington which closely resembles, in the figure’s stance and context, Ripa’s Patriotism.” I chance it and see if we actually own a copy of Ripa. Not only do we, but we own both the facsimile edition of the 1603 version and, more importantly for this request, a facsimile of the Richardson 1779 edition where Richardson re-did Ripa's woodcut prints in intaglio. [Find not one, but two editions of Ripa book, check.]

A look through the Richardson edition finds, not only the image of Patriotism, but also the image of War in which the soldier (a woman in this case) is mounted on a “fiery horse” with its front legs reared similar to the stance in the Trumbull painting of George Washington. Additionally, this image reveals military trophies, allegories of fame, and a shield inscribed "To arms! To arms!" ("Ad arma, ad arma").

In conclusion, the use of a horse rearing up was in line with the artistic traditions of the Trumbull's contemporaries – those practiced by Benjamin West and Sir Joshua Reynolds, among others – that were informed by iconography from the past: Greek sculpture, the Parthenon frieze and Ripa’s Iconologia. This gesture (the horse rearing up) was meant to suggest Washington’s heroic and noble traits as the father of the country, but more importantly, and as a decorated leader in war.

[Can confidently answer the question supported by several research sources, check!]

In Defence of Wikipedia

2009-05-17T09:30:00.000-07:00

Some of my colleagues will likely be dismayed to know that I think Wikipedia has some credibility. If nothing else, it's a great place to start if you have no knowledge whatsoever of a topic and just need a place to begin your information quest.

I acknowledge that some entries have their issues, but those are usually quickly corrected. And, personally, I think the most beautiful thing about Wikipedia is that it allows for a number of voices and viewpoints - which are all valid. An article written about the issue of "social tagging," for example, will likely have very different, but valid, entries from a professor of information science, a marketing professional, a cataloging expert and a blogger. And, it's quite amazing that when people are allowed to edit the entries, those who really are the experts make sure that anything that defies the facts in their areas of expertise is removed.

Wikipedia explains the realization of articles this way:

Visitors do not need specialized qualifications to contribute. Wikipedia's intent is to have articles that cover existing knowledge, not create new knowledge (original research). This means that people of all ages and cultural and social backgrounds can write Wikipedia articles. Most of the articles can be edited by anyone with access to the Internet, simply by clicking the edit this page link. Anyone is welcome to add information, cross-references, or citations, as long as they do so within Wikipedia's editing policies and to an appropriate standard. Substandard or disputed information is subject to removal. Users need not worry about accidentally damaging Wikipedia when adding or improving information, as other editors are always around to advise or correct obvious errors, and Wikipedia's software is carefully designed to allow easy reversal of editorial mistakes. (Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:About, accessed 5/17/09.)

As importantly, it clearly states on its research page that "You should not use only Wikipedia for primary research (unless you are writing a paper about Wikipedia)." In other words, it's not out there promoting itself as the Encyclopaedia Britannica.

Speaking of Britannica, the journal Nature did a study in December 2005 comparing the accuracy of entries between Wikipedia and the online version of the Encyclopaedia Britannica for science entries. The result: they were about the same (see here for the full story). However, it did find that Wikipedia's writing style was more poorly structured. (That's been 3 1/2 years, so hopefully, it's improved a bit since then.) And, to be totally transparent, EB did come back and suggest the study was "fatally flawed,"' but they were rebuffed.

So why am I even going on about this?

This week we embarked on a project to gather information on some hard-to-find artists. This summer, the museum I work at is having a large contemporary art exhibition which features a number of artists who are less than canonical. Two of my volunteers have been working diligently trying to compile web resources for each of the fifty artists in the exhibition. Some are easy - Andy Warhol, Roy Lichtenstein, Robert Rauschenberg, no problem; some are not so easy.

After spending much time trying to find information on these not-so-easy artists, we gave Wikipedia a chance. My volunteers and I even had a discussion about whether or not it was "okay" to use it as a resource. After some comparison on what was available (if anything), and noting the citations used by Wikipedia for the various articles in question, it was difficult for me to dissuade my volunteers from including them.

I'm in no way saying that Wikipedia is on par with peer-reviewed journals or dissertations. But, I often hear people discount it as being "ridiculous" or a "joke" in my field. I think they're wrong. I think it has merit. And, for our project at hand, it's been the saving grace for information on artists for whom we could find nothing more - online.

Thanks Wikipedia. I think you're okay.

Who Knew?

2009-04-29T21:03:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the lack of entries this month... I had the flu and just have way to much going on.

One of the big ongoing projects we have is cataloging our artist files. These are clippings files on regional artists. Currently, we have about 7,000 of them.

This project is so huge that I currently have four volunteers (all stellar ones I might add) working on various aspects of the project: re-cataloging the current data for these files according to new MARC standards, documenting the contents of each artist's file, and making a determination as to whether or not the artist in question really is a regional artist.

Upon doing this work, one volunteer stumbled upon a couple of artists who weren't regional - they weren't even American - but, the articles in their folder shed light on an amazing, and somewhat hilarious, tale. Even though they don't fit the criteria for artists held in the artists files, I'm keeping them:

The articles tell a story from the 1940s about a Dutch couple* who came to America and had some serious misconceptions about Americans and their relationship with art.

They arrived in New York and proceeded to hitchhike to the West Coast. They had to leave the Netherlands without money, so they thought [the wife] would create art and trade it to people along the way to get food and lodging. They did eventually buy a truck, but they still needed to trade for gas.

I guess the local paper got wind of their journey and did several articles about their travels through letters submitted by the husband. Here is an excerpt from one of 1948:

We are happy to be able to write that we are still living. This is not because we have been able to sell [the wife]'s sketches to the public, as we intended to do, but because we seem to be tough, not easy to lick.

We started some months ago on a trip along the West Coast of American Continent. [The wife] wanted to sketch the landscapes, the people and their towns. Part of the sketches we would sell to pay our expenses.

Our expenses are gasoline and groceries. We knew that there are nearly no American families who have an original painting in their home and we reasoned: "art must have been a luxury for them, they never had a chance to buy it for a reasonable price. We will start to do that, we will ask the gasoline man and the grocer to do it for some food. Then we will have all we need and can make the trip."

We were fooled however! We did receive some food and gasoline but not in exchange for [the wife]'s work, but out of pity, and we are sure that those who did not say so and took the work, burned it. We stopped at hundreds of places but we can say that nobody showed any appreciation. "With two gallons of my gasoline, you can drive 40 miles. What can I do with a sketch?... if it was a nude, yes."

Then we told ourselves that advertising should do it. We used signs reading: "Buy a painting for Father's Day, and paintings for you. Peanuts will do." The people laughed at us, turned around in their cars, but nobody stopped and asked to see some work.

They somehow make it to Los Angeles. Along the way they met various people, bartered for food and shelter, and at one point, [the wife] even had a show of watercolors in a gallery. The last paragraph of the article tells us:

The couple went on to Los Angeles, where "we are sitting now in a home which looks like that of an aspiring movie star, more or less looking for the answer to our question: 'Has art still any use?'"

In another article in the same folder, we learn that [the wife] went on to advertise her left ear for $24,000. She would use the money to make her living as an artist. The paper reported "Apparently there is no buyers' market for ears, even pretty feminine Dutch ones."

Awesome.

*I removed the names as [the wife] is still living. I applaud her for her tenacity.

In a Downward Economy

2009-04-10T22:09:00.001-07:00

Everyone I know is scared for their job. In the past few weeks, the institution I work at has had two rounds of layoffs. Several of these casualties involved positions that I would have considered untouchable: the person served a critical function and, without them, things will unavoidably fall apart. Miraculously, the librarian I supervise and myself (and the two separate libraries we run) were spared... for now!

With one exception, I have always worked in special libraries: in established corporate libraries, start-ups, and non-profit settings. In all of these environments, librarians always felt they lacked job security. Even during upward economies, my colleagues and I constantly strove to raise awareness about the work we did and the value we brought to the organization. This was the case at all of these places - even at the most profitable companies.

Why is this?

One attribute common to all of my librarian colleagues is a willingness to help. We join the profession because we enjoy doing research and we enjoy helping people find information (i.e. solve their problem). In most cases, this is done as a free service for internal customers and, in certain circumstances, external or public ones as well. In my particular situation, library services are free for everyone - it's part of the libraries' value as I see it.

Another part of the libraries' value is the public face we give to the institution. As with the admissions staff, receptionist and other front-line positions, library staff interface with the public on a number of levels: in-person, via email, via phone and through the mail. Every one of these interactions can have a positive or a negative effect which can impact the institution. If I tell someone to bugger off because their question is "stupid," they probably won't want to join the museum and may not patronize it in any other way. I'm instilling a sense that they don't belong here. However, if I listen, state the boundaries of what I can and can't do, truly try to help and then answer their question in a respectful way (whether delivering good or bad news), I hope I've established a sense of welcome-ness or acceptance that encourages them to return for a visit or become a member. I've hopefully helped diminish the museum and/or museum library as an ivory tower. (Heck, not to toot my own horn, but I've even had people make donations to the museum simply because of the good experience they've had in one of our libraries.)

Unfortunately, libraries are often seen by those who make decisions on cuts and layoffs that we are simply mini-organizations that cost the larger institution money, but don't directly make money.

After the last round of layoffs, I actually had a co-worker say to me that he was "surprised the libraries didn't get axed." I'll admit, it stung, but he was expressing a view common among those who don't use or aren't directly benefited by library services. The question is "how do we make ourselves valuable to those that don't use our services?" or maybe even a better question is "why is making money the only standard that matters?"

In a few weeks, I am sitting on a panel to talk about ways libraries are dealing with the bad economy. First off, I hope I still am employed as a librarian by the time the panel happens, and two, I hope I can figure out something to say besides "I just keep my fingers crossed."

Death and the Museum Library

2009-03-29T10:10:00.000-07:00

Recently, we had a research request about a "death portrait" someone had of an ancestor. This one was described as a charcoal drawing of the deceased in his coffin. The same week, I watched a fascinating documentary on PBS about the plot to steal Abraham Lincoln's body after he was assassinated. An important thing that I learned from this program was that photography of President Lincoln in situ was strictly forbidden, but that one photographer was secretly able to do it from a distance and - even more amazingly - the photograph was able to survive. The photographer produced the incredible image you can see and read about here.

Another thing that interested me from this documentary was that one of the speakers was from the Museum of Funeral Customs (read more about this here). It interests me greatly that death and mourning are bona fide areas of research and study - it is a field I have a secondary interest in.

This all made me think about ways we support research in this field in our library.

Our museum has a number of objects related to death and mourning: African coffins, Australian Aboriginal Pukamani poles, paintings and works on paper depicting deaths or burials, Chinese death masks, Egyptian funerary portraits, depictions of "Death" (personified) in the works of Durer, Goya and others. Rites and practices undertaken around death and dying really are incredible insights into social aspects of a particular culture.

You're probably noticing that the way I'm speaking about this here sounds like I'm positioning artifacts or depictions of death rites in the museum context as something merely historical or of "other" cultures. Maybe it's because of my WASP-y upbringing, but I'm sure I saw death-rites-on-display as only artifacts of cultures other than my own until I reached college and began taking art history classes. I think others might think this way as well.

In addition to the types of objects mentioned above, the museum library has resources that enlighten and help us understand American practices. Reading these provided an incredible insight into the death customs of my own culture. Here are some examples*:

Library of Dust by photographer David Maisel (San Francisco, CA: Chronicle Books, 2008)
Photographer David Maisel has created a somber and beautiful series of images depicting canisters containing the cremated remains of the unclaimed dead from an Oregon psychiatric hospital.

Sleeping Beauty: Memorial Photography in America (Altadena, CA: Twelvetrees Press, 1990) and
Sleeping Beauty II: Grief, Bereavement and the Family in Memorial Photography (New York: Burns Archive Press, 2002) by Stanley B. Burns
Sleeping Beauty: Memorial Photography in America is a selection of American postmortem memorial photography listed in chronological order from 1840 to 1930 from the Burns Archive. It includes essays on death in America, as well as a bibliography. It is a fascinating book for anyone interested in early photography, 19th century history or ever-changing American attitudes toward death and dying.

Puritan Gravestone Art (Dublin Seminar for New England Folklife; Boston: Boston University, 1977) and
Puritan Gravestone Art II (Dublin Seminar for New England Folklife; Boston: Boston University, 1978) by Peter Benes
These books, part of the Dublin Seminar on New England Folklife at Boston University, include essays on a wide variety of aspects of stone carving, stone carvers, iconography, traditions, and more.

From Slate to Marble: Gravestone Carving Traditions in Eastern Massachusetts, 1770-1870 (Evanston, IL: Graver Press, 2007) by James Blachowicz
From Slate to Marble is a definitive and exhaustive study of 55 gravestone carvers who worked in and around eastern Massachusetts. It is sumptuously illustrated in duotone and monochrome. It includes a CD containing over 750 images of gravestones with a list of 8000 gravestones and a catalog of 713 burial grounds.

Pioneer Cemeteries: Sculpture Gardens of the Old West (Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 2008) by Annette Stott
Stott shows how people from Asia, Europe, and the Americas contributed to the visual character of the [Rocky Mountain] cemeteries, and how the sepulchral garden functioned as an open-air gallery of public sculpture, at once a site for relaxation, learning, and social ritual. Here, widespread participation in a variety of ceremonies brought mountain communities together with a frequency almost unimaginable today.**

And, importantly, resources related to Native American death, dying, burial and remains (a very timely and critical topic; again, a sampling):

Repatriation Reader: Who Owns American Indian Remains? (Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 2000) by Devon Mihesuah

Implementing the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (Washington, DC: American Association of Museums, 2001) by Roxana Adams

To continue to promote scholarship and research, the Constructions of Death, Mourning, and Memory Conference was organized by the Women Art Patrons and Collectors Conferences organization. I believe this conference continues to this day.

(Addendum 5/03/09)
NPR just featured this book - Dissection: Photographs of a Rite of Passage in American Medicine 1880-1930 - in one of their shows. See here for more details. Interesting!

*All abstract and review material taken from other sources (Amazon.com, Alibris, publishers, etc.)
** I had the extreme pleasure of being given cemetery tours of the Riverside Cemetery and the Fairmount Cemetery in Denver by Ms. Stott. The experiences were truly memorable.

What are the odds?

2009-03-15T20:43:00.000-07:00

Every great once in a while something will happen that makes me think the universe is all-connected. This week, two sets of coincidences made me ponder the nature of things:

The first involved a random video. I have a new volunteer who is extremely detail- and project-oriented. I have a long-standing video organization and cataloging project for which I thought he'd be perfect. I hadn't looked at the boxes associated with this project in months, maybe even a year. When I was explaining the project, we were digging through boxes of video and audio media and talking about what needed to be done. One of the videos I pulled out was a VHS copy of "From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler." This is an example of something that got pulled out of one of resource room many, many years ago, ended up in a box and was given to me. It's something the research library probably doesn't need to keep. I used this as an example of something that could be put in the "give away" box.

I have to admit, I'd never even heard of this 1995 made-for-TV movie starring Lauren Bacall. IMDB describes it as "Two runaway kids hide in a museum. Once they are locked inside overnight, they try to solve a mystery about a statue supposedly carved by Michaelangelo, known as 'The Angel'."

Okay, so, whatever. It's had its life somewhere in one of the resource rooms and now it's time for it to move on.

Two days later, another one of my volunteers comes in and we were chit-chatting. She says she is trying to find this book for her grandson about this girl who hides in the Metropolitan Museum of Art overnight and that it's called "Mrs. Basil something" or "Mrs. Frankweller" or something like that. I say "you mean Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler?!" She says, "yes, that's it!" I say, "wait right here..." and go show her the video. (Am I supposed to do something? Buy this book for my daughter? Maybe I should...)

By the way, From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler was written by E. L. Konigsburg in 1968 and won the Newbery Medal for excellence in American children's literature.

Next...

The second incident involved two random, unrelated patrons. The first was a porcelain collector from the East Coast who came in looking for research books on Italian Renaissance sculpture. He asked for three books. Two were located in the main stacks and were pulled for him right away. The third was a book by Gary M. Radke entitled Verrocchio's David restored: a Renaissance bronze from the National Museum of the Bargello, Florence.

This book was published in 2003 and, to my knowledge, it's the first time anyone has asked me for it. The reason I know this is because it's located in the Conservation Library, which is in a different part of the building - normally available only to staff - and requires a trip and consultation with the Conservation staff before I take it. Unfortunately, after several minutes of searching and the help of two additional staff persons, we concluded that the book must be missing. I went back and told the patron and apologized.

Two days later, another patron comes in who is a local sculptor and had some questions about the bronze sculpture techniques of a 16th century Italian sculpture we have on view. I do some searches for books about Renaissance bronzes - especially ones that might shed some light on the technique (like conservation books) - and guess what comes up? Yep. Verrocchio's David restored: a Renaissance bronze from the National Museum of the Bargello, Florence. The patron - who is watching me search - of course says "oh, that one looks good." I tell him the story of the earlier patron, the missing book, and apologize that I haven't listed it as missing yet in the system.

As soon as he left, I searched a used book site and found a copy for $35. I had it shipped express. Watch, I bet no one ever asks me for this book again.

Guess what else? It was Friday the 13th and there was a full moon this week.

Blurry Pictures

2009-02-24T22:32:00.000-08:00

I'm not quite sure why, but recently many of the research requests we've received have been accompanied by blurry pictures of the work in question.

For those new to this blog, one growing responsibility of the research library is to assist patrons with what I like to call "Antiques Roadshow questions." These are research requests around something people have found, bought at a yard sale, inherited, saw/bought on eBay or have always had but now they need to know what it's worth for one reason or another. Even though we clearly state on our web site that valuation and authentication are NOT services we can provide, people still ask for valuation and authentication on a regular basis. What we can do, however, is provide information that will either a) help determine whether or not an appraisal is likely to be warranted or b) provide information helpful for making the appraisal go more smoothly by providing some of the research up front.

So, as part of the research process, several things are especially helpful: name of the artist (if known), an image of the work (we can't allow anyone to bring anything into the museum), any markings on the work: signature, date, title, number, etc.

Once people get over their anger about not being able to bring the work into the museum (and I'm not sure why it's hard for people to understand that bringing in outside work is a major liability for us; perhaps people don't know the paperwork, contracts, negotiations, insurance and amount of work that goes into bringing things that were planned to be here), they finally agree to send photographs via snail mail or digital images via email.

Herein lies the crux of this blog entry... People often send in blurry pictures. And to make it worse, most of the time, these images are of the signature. People, this is the most important thing that I need! Figuring out the maker makes everything go so much more quickly. Here are a couple of examples (actually, I made these up, but they truly do exemplify what I receive):

What it's supposed to look like:

What I receive:

What it's supposed to look like:

What I receive:

What prompted me to write on this subject is that a good deal of the support images I've received from patrons in the last few weeks are like these blurry ones above. And people really think I should be able to read these and figure out who it is.

Maybe some of you are being "age-ist" and asking "are these older people who don't know how to work a camera?" Well, no. I haven't had any young ones, but I wouldn't call most of these people elderly. When I ask if they can send in another, they say "no, this is the best they can get," or "this is how it looks," or "I can bring it in to show you in person" (to which I reply "I already told you 'no.'" Well, not really, I just give them our policy... again.)

Am I crazy to want people to bring me discernible, clear pictures?

Publishers Just Don't Understand, Part II

2009-02-14T15:13:00.000-08:00

When I posted the first "Publishers Just Don't Understand," I dwelled upon magazine and journal publishers. This time, I'd like to take a few minutes to bitch about book publishers.

Before I begin, please know that I think creativity is one of humanity's best traits. I have absolutely no problem with those who take artistic license and apply it to "the book." There have been some fairly amazing examples leading to some pretty astonishing exhibitions:

Shu: Reinventing Books in Contemporary Chinese Art

A Moveable Feast: The Book as Art

The Artist Turns to the Book

I love these - truly I do. My issue is with publishers who produce intellectual works - works where the content (the research, the scholarship, the opinion) is the reason for the publication - but implore too much of an artistic bent and make it difficult for libraries to store and/or circulate the material. They don't understand the implications of non-standard formats on libraries. In other words, these publishers just don't understand.

Here are some recent examples:

Bildgewaltig : Afrika, Ozeanien und die moderne = Visual encounters: Africa, Oceania and modern art from the Fondation Beyeler in Basel
This catalog comes in what's described as a "slipcase." I would argue with that - it's a book box with three collapsing sides. It contains a supplementary brochure and 15 fold-out sheets each measuring three feet by three feet. You'd probably do better reading these fold-outs in a recliner, than at your desk. And that slipcase - normally meant to protect the book - is going to need some protecting of its own. If it makes it through two patrons without becoming unhinged, I'll be elated.

Blood on Paper: The Art of the Book from the Victoria & Albert Museum in London
This catalog is comprised of a series of unbound booklets presented in a box. It's not completely unwieldy, but I'd rather it have been all bound together.

The Whitney Biennial, 2004 from The Whitney Museum of American Art in New York
This catalog is in two parts. The first volume is fine: it's covered in gray velvety material, which I have no problem with. The second volume, however, consists of a box filled with limited-edition commissioned works in several formats: bumper stickers, postcards, filmstrips or mini-magazines. I hate stamping all of this stuff with our library stamp - it diminishes the work. But, what am I supposed to do? I don't want this stuff walking off.

Rogue Wave '01: Eleven Artists from Los Angeles from the L.A. Louver Gallery
This happens a lot where catalogs contain either two parts or two separate catalogs bound together. When this happens, they're bound "dos-a-dos" (one facing upright and the other facing the opposite way downward). When this happens I have to make a choice - which one is the cover? Which one goes first in the title? Where do we put the book pocket (yes, we still use them - don't go there.) By the way, it's not a square or rectangular book either - it's sort of trapezoidal.

Okay, so as problems go, this isn't a huge one. But I bet you never thought about this aspect of the job. Publishers never do...

A Sampling of New Books: Wax, Boys, More Wax and Dolls

2009-02-05T21:39:00.000-08:00

Over the last couple of weeks, we've been cataloging books coming from donations. I don't know if it's just me, but there seems to be some pretty confounding works coming through. Here is a sampling of books from three distinct donations:

Ephemeral Bodies: Wax Sculpture and the Human Figure by Roberta Panzanelli (Los Angeles, Calif.: Getty Research Institute, c2008)
This is well-produced book about the history of wax sculpture. I have a masters in art history and have to admit that I had never heard of this field of research. One review states "The critical history of wax... is fraught with gaps and controversies. After Giorgio Vasari, the subject of wax sculpture was abandoned by art historians; in the twentieth century it once again sparked intellectual interest, only soon to vanish." Images within demonstrate how wax can approximate flesh "with astonishing realism" and discussed its use to create uncanny human simulacra since ancient times. Truly interesting. If we only had wax figures...

Right: Portraits from the Evangelical Ivy League by Jona Frank (San Francisco, Calif.: Chronicle Books, c2008)
Don't know if I could summarize it any better: "Patrick Henry College is the higher education institution of choice among politically far-right young people aspiring to enter the conservative power elite. The explicit mission of PHC is to cultivate leaders to take American politics and culture back to God through careers in politics and entertainment. Acclaimed photographer Jona Frank presents an honest intimate and eye-opening portrait of the school and its students. Frank's photos eschew cultural politicking of the left or the right allowing readers to draw their own conclusions about a school and a youth movement with the potential to produce many of tomorrow's leaders." Frank is actually quite amazing in my eyes. She's done other youth/young adult-related series: High School and Boys Project. Plus, this book is from Chronicle Books - always lovely. Read Frank's comments from her Chronicle Books' blog and see her gorgeous web site.

Robert Gober: The Meat Wagon by Matthew Drutt (Houston, Tex.: Menil Foundation, c2006)
This catalogue was produced for a recent series of installations by Robert Gober, described as "one of the most provocative artists of his generation." In assembling a site-specific installation, "Gober delved deep into the diverse holdings of The Menil Collection for work to intermix with his own pieces..." I was immediately struck by the dismembered childrens' legs (still holding their shoes), slowly burning in a fireplace on the book's cover. Interestingly, this piece - Untitled - from the early 1990s, as I stated depicts children's legs "piled in a fireplace formed by a fake, revolving hearth and a prison window whose bent middle bars offer either escape or entrance formed an altar for a cross comprised of an eighteenth century crucifix surmounted by an oxen yoke." Interestingly, this "altar" was flanked on its right by a sixteenth century axe and on the left by a wax bust of Abraham Lincoln. Wax is considered one of Gober's signature materials. I see a pattern here... Read more on Gober and this exhibition, and see where I swiped all of this material right here in John Devine's review in Art Lies.

The House of Viktor & Rolf (London: Merrell/Barbican Art Gallery, 2009)
The Dutch fashion designers are the focus of this amazing show at the Barbican Art Gallery in London. From the exhibition comes this 256 page full-color catalogue. Mind you, this was a donation. I probably couldn't have gotten away with purchasing this on my own - with library funds. Thumbing through the publication, I was drawn in by the beautiful dolls V&R use to display their work. See photos and commentary from Ofilia's Fine Flicks blog. And please, please check out their breathtaking web site. After the intro, click on the door on the first floor on the right. It goes to the Library. Enjoy your stay!

Auction Catalogues: The Bane of My Existence

2009-01-27T23:02:00.000-08:00

Auction catalogues (or sales catalogues) are those glossy, beautifully illustrated publications put out by auction houses and fine art dealers prior to a sale. Most people are familiar with the big ones: Christie's and Sotheby's.

Auction catalogues are extremely useful for a number of reasons. Their primary use is, of course, providing necessary information for a potential buyer prior to a sale. They are also useful for those wishing to purchase something who want to see what an object similar to it sold for in the past. Catalogues are sometimes the source of tremendous research on an object - often not duplicated elsewhere. These publications are valuable as sources of provenance on a piece - tracking the history of who owned it or where a piece has been. They are useful (in rare cases) for determining the condition of a piece in the past - was that crack on it before we got it? Without a doubt, the scholarship, facts and imagery held within are all undeniably valuable and the information needs to be kept - in some format.

The central problem, however, is the format; particularly, the issue of physical storage and potential access. The museum I work at is an encyclopedic museum which means it is not focused on one particular time period or genre (in other words, we're not the Picasso Museum or the Worcester Porcelain Museum). It covers a broad range of subjects, periods and cultures. We have eight bona fide curatorial departments with a number of other distinctive collections that just happen to not have an assigned curator. We cover art history globally. In a given year, a house like Christie's can produce hundreds of separate catalogs on all of the subject areas we cover, plus a lot we don't. Each catalogue can be between 50 and 200 pages (sometimes even more) and measure an average of 3/4 of an inch thick.

This might not seem like a lot at first, but think of this... we regularly accept catalogs from all of the big houses: Christie's, Sotheby's, the medium houses: Phillips, Bonhams, Skinners, Swan, etc. and the smaller houses: Johnny Van Haeten, Thomas Ammann, Northeast Auctions, Galerie Canesso, etc. We easily take catalogs from over fifty houses/dealers. For houses like Sotheby's, we may take between 100 and 200 catalogs from them each year. At 3/4 of an inch thick, that's up to 12 1/2 feet of shelving space per year per house. Now the other houses don't have this much volume, but over time it does build up substantially. Now consider that we have auction catalogs dating back to the 1970s!

So, I know some of you are saying "isn't it all online?" Well, some of it is, but not reliably. You can go to www.sothebys.com or www.christies.com and see a great deal of information, but not everything is there. There are also services for some of the smaller houses, like www.artprice.com, but those too are not exhaustive.

One of the professional organizations I'm in sent a call out over our listserv asking what people were doing with this "unwieldy" issue. In response, I did a very informal survey using pieces our curators had asked about recently as the test case. Half of these objects' online entries did not include images. Some had only the tombstone information, but not the provenance or detailed research information. In short, it wasn't as good as having the print versions. Other responses to the inquiry pointed to the fact that throwing out our print versions might put us at the mercy of vendors who, currently, do produce "more complete" electronic data. What if they decided to raise their prices? What if they go under (it's already happened)?

Anyone who's been reading my blog for a while can probably guess that the library I oversee is not tremendously spacious. I have never encountered a librarian who didn't have a space problem. It's always an issue. This year, I was finally able to convince the powers that be to give me my own off-site storage unit. You have no idea the amount of teeth-pulling it took to accomplish this. So, now, all auctions catalogues we have published between 1970 and 1999 are off-site in boxes and somewhat organized. But we have one serious problem: I neglected to document what was in the first shipment of boxes, because I was just so shell-shocked that I could actually move them out of my stacks. (I know, it was stupid.) This means that any time someone requests something, I have to walk a few blocks to the unit (pray for semi-good weather), look for it, then walk back with it (or not). At least I get some exercise.

Another "issue" associated with this problem is the number of people who have these catalogues and want to "give" them to us. As any librarian knows, donations are never free. They all involve a lot of work. To these auction catalogue donors, they see it as "these are beautiful publications, I don't want to just throw them out." To me, they are things that will likely require a trip down to the storage unit, a good chunk of time digging through boxes and the probable subsequent removal of most of the donation from our premises because they are duplicates. This means boxing it up again and moving it to the storage unit for the next book sale.

And for those who are asking, "why don't you ask them to send you a list ahead of time, so you can check for duplicates?" Believe me, I ask that. Very few people ever agree to that - "it's too much trouble" they say. These are often people to which I probably shouldn't (or can't) say no - if you get my drift. But, honestly, some people just drop the boxes off without even telling me they're coming. "Of course they can use them. And if not, they can sell them." Sometimes people don't even leave notes.

As you can see, auction catalogues are the bane of my existence.

On Labeling

2009-01-22T20:58:00.000-08:00

Recently, I've had the opportunity to discuss the layout of the library with many different people. Over and over again I describe how, with our classification system (Library of Congress Classification or LCC), artists may be located in various places throughout the stacks - especially with those who work in more than one medium.

Andy Warhol is a great example of someone who would exist in more than one place. He was a painter, a sculptor, a printmaker, a cinematographer and a photographer. In our system Andy Warhol resides in the following places:

N 6537 W3 - Books about Andy Warhol that discuss/cover more than one medium of his work or are a biography

NB 237 W3 - Books about the sculpture of Andy Warhol

NC 139 W2 - Books about the drawings of Andy Warhol

ND 237 W3 - Books about the paintings of Andy Warhol*

NE 539 W27 - Books about the prints of Andy Warhol

PN 1998.3 W27 - Books about the films of Andy Warhol

TR 647 W29 - Books about the photography of Andy Warhol

I know how frustrated I get when I'm in a record store and I can't find a band where I think they should be. I get even more frustrated when I am convinced they don't have something only to have the smarmy clerk immediately direct me to where anyone who knows music would look for it. Like Goldfrapp. Sometimes, they're in electronica, sometimes they're in dance, sometimes, they're in - for god's sake - the pop section. Even iTunes has this same problem deciding how to label them.

So I started thinking about the point of organizing an art-related classification system around artistic media, rather than individual artists. In other words, what made this seem more logical? And why - when a work is about a specific subject, the artist - make people guess where something is? Those not in the know really have to be made aware that not everything is going to be in the same place. In our case, it might not even be located in the same set of stacks!

I suspected it might have something to do with the fact that there is a lot of art out there where the individual maker is not known: prehistoric objects, medieval objects, cultural objects, etc. I went looking for answers.

I stumbled upon this incredibly great post from StraightDope.com comparing the Dewey Decimal System to LCC. Now, Dewey is a different system, but I feel confident saying it's similar in intent to LCC and suffers some of the same organization-decision questions.

When relaying the history of Melville Dewey and the Dewey Decimal System, it says:
Many librarians thought it would be useful to organize books by subject matter. The problem was, what does "subject matter" mean? Francis Bacon, in the 1600s, said there were three branches of knowledge: history (deriving from memory), poetry (from imagination), and philosophy (from reason.).. That formed the basic classification system of the few libraries that bothered with such things. The Vatican library, for example, used only two classifications: sacred and profane.

Okay, so I guess we should feel lucky that LCC has at least divided knowledge into twenty-one separate classes.

Later on, this same post tackles LCC and relays:
Within each major class, the subclasses were independently developed by specialists in each field, so the system was decentralized, with different topics having different arrangements of subclasses....The organization of the [Library of Congress] was primarily focused on the needs of Congress, and secondarily towards other government departments, agencies, scholars, etc.

Hmmm... they're using the government as the model?? I smell bureaucracy...(although, honestly, this week, I do not feel like saying anything negative about the government - I'm enraptured.)

So... I decide to try to track down these "specialists in the field" to see their credentials. I couldn't find them. I will keep trying though - I only spent two hours.

In the meantime, anyone who asks me why our collection is organized the way it is, I'm going to reply "And what would you do? Are you a subject specialist?"

*For those purists out there, I'm not going to get into the whole "well, was it really painting (with paint on canvas) or was it really more of printing-with-paint?" I don't want to argue this point here, just go with me on this one...

Dealing with Erotica

2009-01-08T21:28:00.000-08:00

So I had someone call me today and tell me he had a print by a [fairly well-known artist]* and he wanted to know if it was valuable. He proceeded to describe the work for me because he didn't have an electronic version of it. He described in detail a man performing oral sex on a woman with a [domestic animal] watching in the background**.

I have to admit, I struggled to figure out if this was a friend of mine trying to play a joke on me. I harkened briefly back to an incident when I was much younger, working at an interior design firm and a friend had another friend call me at work and say something completely outrageous - very similar to this. I had to err on the side of caution and assume the person was serious - this was a place of business and we adhered to the "customer is always right" policy. These two guys teased me for years over that.

Well, it turns out this particular artist did actually do many, many erotic prints - in fact we have a two volume catalogue raisonne covering them (who knew?) So, I did a Google search with some of the information I had and thanked my lucky stars that I wasn't working at an organization where they have the time and resources to track people's internet use - cause I would have been in super-big trouble. You can only imagine the search terms I had to use.

I was able to locate the precise image on a prints site and had it up on my screen. At the same time, I had one of the volumes from this erotica prints set open on my desk. I had a fleeting thought - I hope my mom doesn't walk in here right now. One of our docents did though, and it was all I could do to close my browser and shut the book.

I have no idea why I felt like I was doing something naughty.

It turns out, if it is real, it could be quite valuable. That, however, I couldn't tell the patron - I had to send him on to an appraiser where he would have to describe the print's subject matter all over again.

*I"m putting this in brackets just so he doesn't find me if he happens to do a search.
** Again, I don't want him to find me.

My Love/Hate Relationship with a 50-Something Male Artist

2008-12-21T17:39:00.000-08:00

So, I started to write this blog after I'd displayed the exhibition catalogue "Jeff Koons" (by Francesco Bonami from the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago, 2008) on the "new arrivals" shelf. I'd planned to write about the conflicted nature of purchasing and displaying books in the library on artists I don't like. It started out like this:

***
Here's another example of where I really have to avoid my own personal preferences when it comes to building the library's collection. In a nutshell, Jeff Koons rubs me the wrong way. The museum where I work owns at least one of his pieces, with one currently on display. His work is part of our permanent collection - and my job is to support research on our collection - so, I have to purchase resources that support research on his work. But I don't have to like it!

Despite my aversion, he's an incredibly well-known artist who, in November 2007, fetched the highest price paid to date for a work of art by a living artist with Hanging Heart selling for $23.6 million at Christie's. Critics and collectors adore him and outbid each other to get their hands on his work. And, to be completely honest, I'm quite fascinated by the piece we have on view. I don't dislike some of his work.

I don't have a problem with the "artist's atelier" aspects of his work - that pieces are produced by a great number of people in a warehouse somewhere. I imagine Leonardo da Vinci had the 16th century equivalent. I don't have a problem that he creates work that people call "over-the-top kitsch." His work is unmistakably his.

My issue is really with the artist personally - I don't appreciate his apparent and very on-view misogynism. I could go into some detail about it, but I think this blog by SpaceAgeSuperheroPirateDinosaur explains it better than I ever could. Roll on honey!!

***
And then I stopped the blog-writing there... When I attempted to find Koons' age for my (probably not-so-) clever title, I happened upon several biographies and learned that he'd recently been honored for several socially and politically important things:

He established The Koons Family Institute on International Law and Policy which champions "efforts to improve identification of and assistance provided to child victims of abduction and sexual exploitation and to bring perpetrators to justice, regardless of where they live." Further, he was honored by the Center for Missing and Exploited Children for his efforts in combating child abduction and exploitation. He was promoted, in 2007, by President Jacques Chirac from Chevalier to Officier of the French Legion of Honor for his ongoing strengthening of relations between France and the United States.

So, maybe he's not a completely abysmal human being? Maybe the next time I purchase and exhibit a book about his work I won't feel so icky. (And I will have to buy more...)

I did discreetly (or not so discreetly) smirk during a recent appearance by John Updike when he declared that Giotto was an example of a great artist because his work encouraged future artists to develop techniques and style. He used Jeff Koons as the example for, basically, the opposite of that.

The Students and Me

2008-12-07T09:37:00.000-08:00

This week brought an unusually large number of students to the research library. It's the end of the quarter or semester for most of the schools in the area.

It brought students working on verbal presentations, short papers (2-3 pages) and in-depth papers (10 pages). The students represented the wide diversity of schools in the region: small colleges, art schools, community colleges and universities. It also was a palpable demonstration of the wide range of experiences I have with students.

Let's start with one of the less satisfying experiences. I always know students are really running out of time when they come into the library and begin to type their paper on one of the library computers. Of course, this is followed by an ask to be able to email it to themselves - or even in some cases, print it to turn in to their instructor later that afternoon. One such student appeared in my doorway this week. He sat down and began typing without even acknowledging me (I've never seen this student before, and to my knowledge, he has never come in). Obviously, he knew how to access everything he needed on the library computers. I ask him if he needs any help and he mumbles something which I interpreted to mean "no." So, I go back to my office.

Minutes later, he appears and asks if I can help him. He says he's writing a paper on the exhibition that's downstairs. I ask "which one?" as currently we have two special exhibitions and I've encountered students earlier in the week who have been writing papers on both. He has a lot of trouble explaining to me which one he's writing about (and they are two very different exhibitions!!) I finally get it out of him that it's the exhibition on Native American art. He says that he's writing a paper about one of the objects in the shows, but each time I ask him to tell me which object - he describes an area of the exhibition (that includes many, many objects) and says that's the object he's writing about. I try to explain to him the difference between a section of the exhibition and the individual objects within that section, but he keeps telling me the same thing. So, I say "okay, fine." (I've really tried.) I give him the catalog for the exhibition and leave him to write. He comes to my office a few minutes later and asks me how baskets are made and I point him to the part of the catalog on (literally) basket weaving. It covers materials, techniques and styles. Honestly, it would be difficult for me to give him anything better than what's been printed in this catalog. He doesn't get it and keeps telling me, "but I need to know how it's made." I literally drag my finger along the words to show him the information. He says "oh."

(This is getting a bit drawn out, so I'll end here with just one more of the interactions we had - be aware it was not the only additional interaction...)

Again, I am back in my office and he comes to my door and asks "what are the dimensions of the objects?" Again, I show him in the catalog the statement of height, depth and width for each object clearly noted under its picture. He says "that's the dimensions?" I say yes and really have to struggle to keep from rolling my eyes. At that moment, my phone rings and I say I have to get it. When I emerge from the phone call another student from his class has joined him and they are struggling through it together. Sheesh.

Now, for one of the more gratifying student interactions of the week. Several students from another program are being assigned a "visual communications" project on objects in our collection. There were many examples of very positive interactions from these students, but I'll choose just one.

The student calls me in advance and tells me what her project is. She sets up a time to meet with me to go over resources available. She comes to the library on two separate occasions to prepare for her presentation. The piece she has chosen is one that we - unfortunately - don't have a lot of information about. She reads everything we have on the artist and starts to form her own conclusions about the piece. I love it! A critical thinker!

The last time she comes to the library before her presentation she lets me know that she emailed the artist to ask him about the piece and he responded to her. Wow! Nice work. He sent her a great email about the piece and the reason he created the work the way that he did. She even gives me a copy of the email to put in the file. Nice!! Lastly, she asks if it's possible to use one of the books we have during her presentation. She says that she'll come up and get it right before her presentation and will bring back immediately afterward. I say "of course!" And she does exactly what she says. Finally, upon her return of the book she says a hearty "thank you" and tells me how much she really appreciated my help.

Folks, this is why I love my job.

General Inquiries

2008-11-22T10:24:00.000-08:00

During the past few days, I've been reminded that the library is often mistaken for the "general inquiries department." I in no way mean this sarcastically. As I hope you've gathered from previous posts, I really do love answering people's questions - and I don't mind doing it, even if they have absolutely nothing to do with the library or art for that matter.

Here's this week's sampling:

(Email)* I can't reach anyone in [a certain department], could you forward this email to them?
(Email) Is my museum membership current?
(Phone)** I'm trying to make a reservation for this lecture, can you please make sure I'm on the RSVP list?
(Phone) My high-school aged son is doing a report on [a certain artist] and I need the following information for his report... [Alright, this one really is library-related but I list it here because: A. Shouldn't your high-school aged son be asking for his own information? And B. Doesn't his school have its own library? I'm sure there's a librarian working very hard there who would love for students to use the resources he/she has put together. Whatever. This poor kid is probably never going to learn how to do things on his own. Ok, sorry, back to more un-library-related inquiries...]
(Voicemail message) Please return my call and let me know that my dinner reservation is confirmed.
(Phone) What's the name of that restaurant kind of catty-corner across the street from you guys?
(Phone) When is the such-and-such show opening at [another museum, not mine]?

The crux of this particular entry is really about "why" people direct their questions to us more so than anywhere else in the museum (with the exception of the reception desk, of course). Here are some theories:

The myth that all librarians are curmudgeons who only care about keeping people quiet has finally been dispelled.
The libraries' email address appears in several places on the museum's web site.
The libraries' phone number appears in several places on the museum's web site.
Both email and phone information appears on rack cards that have been distributed far and wide.
I'm someone who tends not to tell people "no" a lot and others in the museum see that as license to transfer phone calls to me when they don't know the answer (i.e. I'm a sucker!)

Any thoughts?

*The email address usually used in these random inquiries is "libraries@[museumname].org," not a personal name.
**Anyone who works in here answers the phone "Library, this is [so and so]."

Things Found in Books

2008-11-09T10:11:00.000-08:00

I just got back from an art librarians conference in Vancouver. Among other interesting presentations, we heard from UBC professor and artist Marina Roy.

One project she discussed with us was a series of "secret" fore-edge drawings on books called "Thumbsketches." See here for this amazing display. I am calling these "secret" because normally fore-edge painting/drawing is visible only when the book is completely closed. In Roy's case, the book needs to be slightly splayed open to reveal the hidden picture. She did this project with the Vancouver Public Library and I suspect anyone who picked up one of these books may not have had any idea the drawing was even there - which I think is really, really interesting.

Another project she did with VPL was a series of book "interventions" where she placed objects in books that were in circulation. Objects included bookmarks, stamps and other items. Go here and see pages 4 and 5 for details. This highlights a bookmark she inserted entitled "The King's Two Bodies: Sadam and his doubles" about Sadam Hussein's use of body doubles for security purposes. She inserted it into the book Portraiture by Shearer West from the Oxford History of Art series. Interestingly, one of the conference attendees, a VPL Librarian, had been approached by a library patron who had checked out this book and was visibly upset about finding it. One of my favorite sayings comes to mind: "art won't hurt you."

Being completely fascinated by Roy and her projects, it made me recall some of the things I'd found in books over the years in my own library. Sometimes I find them in recently returned books. Sometimes I find them in miscellaneous donations. Sometimes I find them randomly and have no sense of when they might have been left there. Someone suggested to me that I start a box of "things found in books" to hold all of these various personal possessions, notes and trinkets. So, I did. Items that exist in the box include: bookmarks, postcards, a small metal flag, a map, research notes, newspaper clippings, small prints, and photographs. We only circulate to our staff, so, if I can figure out whose item it might be, I return it to them. Otherwise, it's mine.

The next time you come across something foreign in a book, ask yourself "was it meant to be here?"

The Unseen Library: Part II

2008-10-21T09:08:00.000-07:00

(If you haven't read it yet, take a look at Part I to feel my full pain on this subject - as well as get some context for the entry below.)

As if the discovery of bad Cutter numbers wasn't enough to push me over the edge, we also discovered something equally as troubling...

When attempting to make changes to those bad-Cutter-numbered books' call numbers, we discovered some of them don't even exist in our online catalog! I look by title, author, even the call number that's been typed on the spine label. Nada. There is no record of these books in the library's catalog at all.

That means, if someone goes to look for a book - including me - and can't find it in the online catalog, they assume we don't have it. On several occasions, I've had books requested, and was so sure that we didn't have the book, that I bought a copy. Later, I would find the book I purchased already on the shelf. For a library with a small book budget, this just can't happen. And because many of the books I order are out of print and from small independent book dealers, I usually can't return them. I end up selling them later, but only for a fraction of the cost.

When I was telling someone about this the other day, they said "I know. You already told me about books not being in the catalog when you were assessing your special collections materials." Yes, that is true. A couple of years ago we created our first ever "special collections" area. Essentially, we went through the collection and pulled anything that was over 75 years old or adhered to some other criterion we'd established (special binding, certain signatures, etc.) I thought all we would have to do was go into the catalog and re-classify those books. A good chunk of those books ended up not being in the catalog to begin with, so we had to catalog them outright. Like most of my projects, it ended up taking ten times longer than I expected.

Although this certainly frustrated me, there were signs that these books had never been assessed for the catalog. They didn't have call numbers on them and/or book cards. Plus, we had a number of books just sitting in piles in the back - they were never really on the shelf to begin with.

The difference with this latest discovery is that these were on the shelf. Someone had already taken the time to type up spine labels and book cards. Even more frustrating was that many of these books were listed as being part of the library's holdings in the global union catalog we subscribe to for our cataloging records (OCLC's WorldCat - I'm not going into it here, but if you're really interested, look here.)

In short, the world thinks we have it, but we don't think we have it because it's not in our own library catalog!!!

This happened once when someone called me from a library on the East Coast and asked if I could photocopy something out of a late 19th century book on English etchers for them. When he called, I checked our catalog and said "oh, we don't have that book." Then he said, "oh, I thought you did because WorldCat lists you as having it." I tell him I will call him back - and, it goes without saying that I'm feeling a little embarrassed. What librarian doesn't know what she has in her own collection?

Guess what?! I do find the book after looking through some piles. It's a beautiful book and I feel a lot of angst that it's been sitting here in a pile collecting dust.

For the books we've pulled on behalf of the "bad Cutter situation," I'm finding approximately two in five books aren't in our library catalog. Of those books, two out of three of them are already listed in our holdings in WorldCat (again, just about everyone but us knows we have them!!) For those records, I download the records again and make it right. For the others not in our catalog and not in WorldCat, I catalog them for the first time - even though some of them have been sitting on the shelves for decades.

Someone said to me "at least it's job security." As all of us know who work for non-profits, there's never job security - ever. But, hopefully, our "unseen library" won't be unseen for much longer.

The Unseen Library: Part I

2008-10-14T20:18:00.000-07:00

As you know, we are in the process of receiving a 10,000 book library on American art ranging from the 18th century through about the 1970s. For any library, this would be an enormous undertaking. For us, it's increasing our holdings exponentially as the current library has between 20,000 - 30,000 volumes. It really is an enormous undertaking.

I was able to hire a temporary full-time cataloger to help with the project and she has been beyond amazing. She's been doing her best, but we've encountered some unexpected problems...

(Prepare yourself for library-speak.)

Before we'd barely gotten started, we realized our existing library had a lot of bad "Cutter numbers." The Cutter numbers are the final part of the call number that help order books on the shelf. They distinguish one book on a specific subject written by one author from another book on that same specific subject by a different author. Or if you want to be really confused, they also help distinguish books about a specific subject written by the same author in different years. Let's see what Wikipedia has to say here.

Some Examples

Books about the Japanese-American sculptor Isamu Noguchi (1904-1988):
In Library of Congress Classification, books about American sculptors usually begin with the call number NB 237 (American sculptors). This is followed by a Cutter number signifying the artist: in this case, Noguchi is N6. After that is another Cutter number that is unique to this particular book. Let's say the book is written by Sam Hunter. If that's the case, the full call number would be NB 237 N6 H86 (H86 signfies Hunter; syntax varies depending on library). A book on Noguchi by another author, Dore Ashton, would look something like this: NB 237 N6 A88. Get it?

Books about the American sculptor Donald Judd (1928-1994):
Books about him might have the call number NB 237 J76. A book written about him by Marianne Schmidt-Miescher might have the call number NB 237 J76 S35.

And, believe it or not, I am really simplifying this. There are a lot of nuances and rules that dictate whether you "cutter" for author name, institution name, city name, etc. And I'm not even going to address the "year" part of the call number...

How It's Supposed to Work

The point of creating call numbers is to put things in the right order. For American sculptors, books on Louise Bourgeois should come before those on Joseph Cornell, who comes before Jeff Koons, who comes before Louise Nevelson, who comes before Roxy Paine, who comes before Andy Warhol. Above, I used two examples for artists whose names are fairly far apart in the alphabet. Consider how carefully you've got to "cutter" when you have lots of artists whose names begin with the same letter. Here's a sample list in alphabetical order by last name:

James McBey (1883-1959)
Ella E. McBride (1862-1965)
Edward McCartan (1879-1947)
Justin McCarthy (1891-1977)
Paul McCarthy (1945- )
Cathy McClure (n.d.)
Francis John McComas (1875-1938)
Walter McConell (1956- )
David McCosh (1903-1981)
Philip McCracken (1928- )

The Problem

So, imagine our horror, when we realized a good chunk of the 20,000 - 30,000 books in the existing collection aren't classified correctly!!* Because, in order for the cataloger to put new books in with the right call numbers, it's sort of a given that the books that already exist in the library have to have the the right call numbers already in place.

I'll use the group above to demonstrate the problem. I've assigned hypothetical call numbers to them (most of these people are painters, and not all of them are American, but stay with me) and put them in call number order (the order they would be in on the shelf). Even for frequent book-shelvers, the order for Cutter numbers is difficult to understand: imagine that the Cutter number has a decimal point in front of it. Here is a superb explanation from Ithaca College (scroll down to "third line" explanation).

James McBey (1883-1959) ND 237 M32**
Paul McCarthy (1945- ) ND 237 M32
Ella E. McBride (1862-1965) ND 237 M326
Edward McCartan (1879-1947) ND 237 M33
Justin McCarthy (1891-1977) ND 237 M332
Cathy McClure (n.d.) ND 237 M35
Walter McConell (1956- ) ND 237 M336
David McCosh (1903-1981) ND 237 M337
Philip McCracken (1928- ) ND 237 M3375
Francis John McComas (1875-1938) ND 237 M56

Here are the problems:
1. No two books should ever have the same call number unless they are the same exact book: James McBey and Paul McCarthy have the same call number. A big no-no.
2. And that feisty McCarthy is also coming before McBride. That's not alphabetized correctly in my universe.
3. McComas is coming after McConnell and McCosh, when he should come before. Blast!

The most painful thing about this is that my poor (bound for sainthood) volunteers have had to go book by book to find the ones with the bad Cutters. Then I take those problem books and re-do their Cutters in the catalog.

Words cannot express the huge can of worms this has unearthed. All other projects have been pushed aside while I deal with this.

And there are some at my institution that - I truly believe - think the books just arrive in boxes and magically place themselves on the right shelf, in the right order, and into the online catalog.

Find out soon why I named this entry "Part I" - if I haven't hightailed it to Mexico by then...

* It wasn't me! Books have been cataloged in this library since before even my parents were born.
** ND 237 means American painters.

The Corrections

2008-09-27T09:36:00.000-07:00

On occasion we get visitors who inform us that something they've seen in the galleries is incorrect. This includes: incorrect object orientation (it's upside down!), incorrect translations, incorrect dates for an artist or work and works being incorrectly attributed to a culture or an artist.

First off, I guess I should feel flattered that when someone thinks they need to correct something on a wall label that they think to tell the librarian, rather than a curator or curatorial staff person. They obviously think I have way more pull than I do!

Also, I've begun to notice a pattern when such comments are made to me. The visitor, even before telling me their concern, feels a need to demonstrate their expertise in the area. They may start by giving me their business card, then go on in detail about their long experience in the field of collecting or research. They may try for several minutes to make me understand that their concerns have to be taken seriously and the wrong has to righted immediately. (Again, obviously they think I have way more pull than I do!)

In ninety percent of the cases the person making the claim also happens to be a dealer or someone in the business of selling objects. The comments are often presented to me as "I'm letting you know about this terrible error that has to be corrected; now, I need you to return the favor by buying something from me." I am, of course, paraphrasing here.

Here is a recent example... A man comes storming into my office, plops down in the chair and puts his business card in front of me. "What can I help you with?" I say. He says "here's my card... I've been in this business for nearly fifty years. You have something down in your...gallery that is completely wrong. Here's what I'm going to do... I'm going to tell you what's wrong - that's my gift to you - and then, I want you to return the favor." "What's wrong?" I say. He goes into several minutes of explaining that research done by this museum and that museum have proven that objects we're attributing to this time and place are really reproductions done in this time and place.

I start to tell him that he really needs to speak to the curator in charge with this claim, but his phone rings. He takes the call, without apology, stands up and paces around in my office (which isn't very big) and says to the person on the other line - very loudly I might add - "I'm at the... and I'm telling this librarian about the atrocity they are perpetuating down in their... gallery. Yeah, can you believe that? Yeah, okay, I'll meet you at... in a few minutes." Guess what? Belittling me to your phone buddy probably isn't going to get me to do you any favors.

He hangs up and launches into the "selling" phase of our exchange. "I've given you a gift, now you guys need to repay the favor." He gets me to go to his dealer website. He shows me pictures from his warehouse and says that he would be willing to give us a deal on these pieces that are similar to the ones in our gallery, but are definitely authenticated. Seriously dude, I'm the librarian! Do you really really think I have anything to do with the objects we purchase. Because - believe me - I don't!!

I told him I'd pass along the information to the curatorial staff, but that he really needs to talk to them himself. He gives me another card then leaves.

I'm in the process of writing labels for the next book installation. It's about books by anthropologists who studied Indian tribes in the early 20th century in our region. Hmm.... maybe an anthropological study on object dealers is in order.

On Censorship

2008-09-21T11:16:00.000-07:00

Please allow me just this one politically-related entry:

By now, we've all heard about Sarah Palin's inquiries into banning books in Wasilla, Alaska. If you live under a rock (or don't watch TV, listen to radio or talk to other humans), here's some information. Even if she didn't actually ever request that specific books be banned, the inquiries into the possibilities of banning are true. Palin says it's "Internet banter," but this story and this story say otherwise. Censorship is a really important issue for those of us who enjoy living in a place where you cannot be persecuted for any religious beliefs or for not believing at all. Censorship is an important issue for anyone who enjoys being able to think for themselves. In other words, it's serious.

Even art librarians have to make choices about the books we purchase, but it's important that we not censor those items which fall within the realm of our collection development policies* and/or monetary limits. As I mentioned in an earlier post on the Chapman book, I'm in a very lucky position where I don't have to consider censoring books for moral or religious reasons: I work in a special library that for all intensive purposes is private rather than public. We're not a public library, the library is not directly supported by local, state or federal funding. The institution I work for is not part of city government. My only restrictions are: 1) money and 2) adhering to our collection development policy. I can't buy the Gerhard Richter catalogue raisonne because it's $2400. We need it and I could get it, but then I couldn't get anything else for the rest of the year... However, I can accept just about anything that is considered research-level material in art or art history that comes from donations or the library exchange program and is not a duplicate. I cannot buy anything that doesn't fall within the scope of our collection development policy. For instance, I couldn't buy the book Russian Book Art 1904-2005: A Selection from the Lemmens-Stommels Collection for $750 because we don't collect Russian art or actively collect book art either. Plus, the $750 would be prohibitive.

I can acquire books with foul language and unpopular viewpoints. I also acquire books in which I completely disagree with the agenda of the organization or author. One example is a book on the Hudson River School painters called Knights of the Brush: The Hudson River School and the Moral Landscape by James Cooper through an organization called The Newington-Cropsey Foundation. The College Art Association reviewed this book and had the following commentary:

"James Cooper believes in art. In his book, which amounts to a manifesto long on assertion and short on argument (as befits manifestoes), Cooper holds up the canvases of the Hudson River School as a standard for cultural renewal. His arch-principle is that the arts carry a culture’s moral, spiritual, and aesthetic values such that as the arts go, so goes the culture. This idea operates in the book as a traditional American jeremiad that both critiques modern history and heralds the opportunity of rebirth. Cooper promotes what amounts to a form of cultural theurgy: If the arts are an index of spiritual well-being, by improving them artists will produce a corresponding progression in the spiritual health of the nation. The logic is dubious..." (If you're a CAA member, see the full review here.)

The Newington-Cropsey Foundation is guided by significant religious and spiritual values. Its materials (films and books) sometime reflect ideals which are at odds with other scholarly research material. Even if I don't particularly agree with the viewpoint of the author or sponsoring organization, it still has merit. The ideas and opinions contained therein are part of the larger body of ideas and knowledge about areas of art history in which we do collect: Hudson River School particularly and 19th century American art more broadly.

Even though I don't have to select books with caution towards a community's religious or moral values, other libraries do. It's interesting that all of this Sarah Palin nonsense came to light in the same month the American Libraries Association recognizes "Banned Book Week." On one of my new favorite blogs - Libraries Against Palin! - I was led to JD Rhoades' blog and the entry "The Librarian Who Said No To Sarah Palin" by Tess Gerritsen where one commentor was actually successful in enlightening another commentor that banning books does actually still happen (sorry, you'll have to weed through the 70+ comments to experience this incredible chain of events). Yes, people! It happens a lot!!

As a final thought on censorship, the Oxford English Dictionary describes a "censor" as:
1. The title of two magistrates in ancient Rome, who drew up the register or census of the citizens, etc., and had the supervision of public morals.
2. One who exercises official or officious supervision over morals and conduct.
3. An official in some countries whose duty it is to inspect all books, journals, dramatic pieces, etc., before publication, to secure that they shall contain nothing immoral, heretical, or offensive to the government.

With a nod to definition #1...We all know what happened to the Roman Empire. We've already embraced World Extreme Cagefighting as a bona fide sport. Maybe if McCain and Palin win the election, we can bring back good ol' Roman animal vs. man arena fighting too.** Is Penelope Spheeris working on a Decline of Western Civilization Part IV yet?

*The primary function of a written collection development policy is to provide guidance to staff when selecting and deselecting (printed and electronic) resources for the local collection. The document serves as a guideline for each stage of materials handling. It might cover the selection, acquisition, processing, housing, weeding, retention, preservation (archiving in case of electronic resources), relegation and discard of all types of library material in the relevant subjects, with reference to specified levels of collection depth and breadth. (From: The International Federation of Library Associations and Institutions' Guidelines for a Collection Development Policy... 2001.)

**See books like Alan Baker's The Gladiator: The Secret History of Rome's Warrior Slaves (Thomas Dunne Books, 2001).

I Don't Know Everyone

2008-09-07T09:47:00.000-07:00

This past week I had a reference phone call very similar to the Italian painting one where I got someone on the phone who talked way, way more about other various things than the thing I could actually help him with. (I'm not really knocking "talkers"; I'm one myself - ask anyone!) My issue is that I don't go on and on with someone when I call their place of business. Especially when I'm not hearing a response on the other end. I can take a hint.

Another thing that irked me about this caller was his high-and-mighty tone. He said he knew he had a valuable painting - he just wanted to know how valuable. Maybe it's valuable, maybe it isn't. As I've said before, I appreciate the fact that there are things out in the world that don't have any market value, but do have sentimental or personal value. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I certainly have objects myself that I think are beautiful, but understand they aren't monetarily valuable. But starting off your conversation like that with someone who is providing you a free service - when, honestly, she doesn't have the time to get her own job done - is not going to make her work harder to find out how valuable your work really is. Especially after you've just wasted ten minutes talking about how far away you live and what you're going to do with the money you get from this work.

OK, maybe I was having a bad day. Maybe I'm just not being patient enough with this person. Then, he hit a nerve. Just after the irrelevant ten-minute part, he says "and you know Bob so-and-so, right?!" And, I'm silent. I have no frame of reference for this question: Is he someone who works here? Is it a restaurant (you know, like Bob Evans)? Is he a friend of yours? My silence sends him into a tizzy - "How can you be a librarian and work at an art museum and not know Bob so-and-so?!!!" Again, silence, then I say something like "I didn't grow up here." (Why did I say that? I guess because I was narrowing it down to it possibly being a local artist - art was what he was calling about.) Well, that wasn't the right thing to say because then he says, "he's famous, he's been on TV, how can you not know him?!" [You probably figured this out already, but assuming that I can readily identify someone when you just throw out a name with no context - and then when I can't, you get angry - is a serious pet peeve of mine. A serious one.]

As which happens during many phone calls like this (and I get them at least once a week), I start drifting off to other things: what my volunteer needs to work on when she gets in, is Julianna Hatfield the same night as the Nick Cave concert, do I have enough money in my wallet to take a cab home if I stay late enough at work that I'll have to take the "crazy bus" home? Finally, he stops telling me how un-knowledgeable I am and how, again, I just need to tell him how valuable this painting is. I tell him - as I've already done - that I'll see if I can figure out who the artist is and get back to him in the next four weeks (as we now have about twenty requests in front of his). I cannot give him value information.

He says something else and then I say "I'll be back with you in a few weeks. Have a nice day." and hang up. His request goes to the bottom of the pile: number twenty-one.

Epilogue to a Book Sale

2008-08-24T17:20:00.000-07:00

This past weekend we had a huge book sale that attempted to sell the duplicates and out-of-scope contents of the museum's three libraries. The date of this sale got determined for late August several months ago: we wanted to target K-12 and post-secondary educators who were thinking about their needs for the upcoming year. We were banking on them being, hopefully, well-rested after a summer off and excited for the year ahead.

For those of you who know me or read this blog on a regular basis, you may know that I just finished a HUGE construction project in the library (it literally finished just two weeks ago). Several people have asked me why on earth I would plan this huge book sale to happen just days after the huge construction project finished. If I was on the outside, I'd be asking the same question!

Answer: The shelving got delayed and then delayed again. Delays were caused by both internal and external sources. I think when we set the book sale date, I thought the construction would have been done in June. Obviously, that didn't happen.

So... as I began, the sale happened this past weekend. I thought I'd lament on how it went. We (I) learned a lot about how to do and, more importantly, not do it next time. If there is a next time!

Things that went right:

We gathered nearly 2,000 books, catalogs, serials, curriculum guides and more for this sale.
The loading dock guys were amazing and got all of the material to the right location by the day we needed it.
Many co-workers from Finance and the Shop (who I hardly ever interact with sadly) helped us out tremendously - some putting in many hours to help get us set up and get the money counted afterward.
We got the nearly 2,000 items priced in a single day.
Volunteers and volunteering staff members spent up to 20 hours each to help get ready and staff the sale. Each did so with a very positive attitude.
A couple of the volunteers came up with time-saving decisions to help things run more smoothly.
Somehow the two city weekly papers found out about the sale and printed things about it beforehand.
A staff member brought tons of food and water for us without being asked.

Things that went wrong:

After just emailing all of the volunteers, staff, etc. about reaching me on my cell phone with urgent matters during the prep day and sale day (there's no phone in the area where we had our sale), my phone conveniently died on me.
Several people who were specifically emailed about the secret pre-sale complained that they never got the email. (We're thinking it was because of spam filters... what to do? We mass emailed 4,000 people.)
Putting the sale notice on Craigslist at midnight (several hours before the sale started) meant that our sale was about the 100th listing down when anyone looked in the morning. Damn Craigslist's popularity!!
The cash register didn't work and the software that needed to be upgraded would have cost $750 - um, forget it. (A staff person let us borrow a ten-key machine.)
After one staff member tried for an hour on Friday, I got on the phone with vendor tech support in an attempt to get our credit card machine working about 90 minutes before the sale started - it never worked. (The Shop let us borrow their swiper and credit card slips - otherwise, I would have found the tallest building off of which to jump.)

In the end, we made lots of money, had lots of truly happy educators and customers and I felt truly blessed to have done the event with such stellar librarians, co-workers and our amazing, amazing volunteers. Now, I can really sleep...

What I Can Do

2008-08-20T21:57:00.000-07:00

(The following post may offend those who don't appreciate foul language... reader discretion is advised.)

Recently, a book came into the library about the work of two British artists: Jake and Dinos Chapman. White Cube in London describes their work as "iconoclastic sculpture, prints and installations that examine, with searing wit and energy, contemporary politics, religion and morality." This catalog we received examined a specific piece called Fucking Hell (2008) in the exhibition If Hitler Had Been a Hippy How Happy Would We Be (White Cube, London, 2008). This work was a more elaborate copy of a work they'd done previously in 1999 that was destroyed by fire. It is "an immense tabletop tableau, peopled with over 30,000 remodeled, 2-inch-high figures, many in Nazi uniform and performing egregious acts of cruelty. The work combined historical, religious and mythic narratives to present an apocalyptic snapshot of the twentieth-century." I'll admit the imagery was hard to look at - it wasn't uplifting and at times made me very sad. But, it was powerful. The title of the catalog - which was emblazoned boldly on the cover - was simply "Fucking Hell."

We have a "new arrivals" shelf where each week I choose five or six interesting and diverse items to highlight. How could I not exhibit the book "Fucking Hell?" I didn't want to hide this away due to its potentially offensive language (and imagery) and hope that someday, someone would come in asking if we had any catalogs on British artists who did dioramas or something on the two brothers who graduated from the Royal Academy... It was really brilliant (fu&*ing brilliant actually) and I wanted people to see it. See more on the piece here.

This turned out to be another one of those moments where I felt very lucky to be in the position I am in - at a museum where at least a good portion of the people I come into contact with have open minds. Just about everyone who walked in took a look at the catalog. I even got the occasional "go T" or "right on T" from my co-workers.

I did not take for granted that I could actually put something like this out without being reprimanded. I know the issues my colleagues down the street at the public library frequently deal with over Harry Potter books and "One dad, two dads, brown dad, blue dads."

I was also reminded of my luck with the announcement of the upcoming "Banned Books Week" which starts at the end of September. If you're not familiar with it, take a look here. With books like "The Color Purple," "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" and "The Golden Compass" on 2007's most challenged book list (yes, that's 2007, not 1907), I'm guessing "Fucking Hell" probably wouldn't have made it too far at the public library...

Now, I Can Sleep

2008-08-13T20:36:00.000-07:00

It's finally finished. It was stressful and lasted way longer than I intended, but it's done. We have brand new shelves in our reading room and now about a third of our book collection is accessible to the public in open stacks.

The shelves look good. In fact, I think they look great. I've had many, many people say "it looks more like a library now." Yes, that's what I was hoping. They've also offered their congratulations for seeing this project through - which means a lot to me.

It's a little snug though. We had to remove three study carrels and had to move their computers to the remaining three tables. People have let me know their feelings about that too. In the words of my pal Al, "C'est la vie."

If you're wondering, I spent the weekend having fun including karaoke performances of Depeche Mode's "Everything Counts" and Tears for Fears' "Head Over Heels." Please tell me that wasn't recorded...

The Calm Before the Storm

2008-07-29T21:37:00.001-07:00

Sorry for the lack of blog entries this month. It's been rather busy.

We went on vacation prior to a big project I have going (see below). On this trip, we stayed on the beautiful Oregon Coast and spent time in the high desert of the Columbia River Gorge area of north central Oregon and south central Washington. I was pleasantly surprised to see so many libraries and book stores in some of these tiny towns. I was surprised at many of the unique things I saw: the majesty of the Maryhill Museum with its interesting displays and peacocks running around the lawn, the Gorge Discovery Center where I felt like I really learn a lot about the Oregon Trail and civilization in this part of the world, the very nice people at Cousins Restaurant who consistently referred to us as "cousins" (what would like to eat cousins?), and most surprisingly, the group of middle-aged swingers that seemed to have chosen the same motel as we did. I'm not judging, but I'm just saying "half the rooms in this place face the pool - we can all see you!"

So.. I took this trip because we were supposed to start a construction project shortly after my return. This project will add shelving to accommodate 10,000 new books on American art. (Yes, that's right, 10,000.) This project has literally been going on for years and, finally, we're really doing this.

Despite it being "in the works" for so long, the prep work has still proved to be a bit overwhelming. Why do I have so many things in my back-cataloging?! How did our Special Collections area double in size in the past two years?! How many shelves can we really get in that carriage?! Does a creak really mean we broke it?! Don't even joke about a surprise fire marshal inspection. Yikes...

I readily label myself "naive." I've never worked with vendors on a scale like this and I guess I should have known when they said it'd be ready on this date, they really meant a week or two later. I also should have known that the people I wanted to hire for the original date to do the heavy lifting needed to be notified a couple of weeks in advance if I didn't need them, or, in this case, if I really needed them tomorrow (scheduling people is difficult - I do totally understand).

It's all worked out fine - mainly because of the kindness and good nature of the museum folks that have been helping me. I can't say enough about our office manager. He's really come through big time.

The shelving is supposed to be put in tomorrow. It was supposed to start at 8am, but I got a call at 3pm this afternoon that it will actually be more like "tomorrow afternoon sometime." Maybe I'll sleep in...

Wrong Library!

2008-07-08T19:02:00.000-07:00

Our library collection circulates to the staff and volunteers of the museum only. Occasionally, the books go missing. Occasionally, the books remain in the office of a staff member after they've departed the museum (I sometimes get these back). Occasionally, the books return to me from the strangest places.

The museum library's books have been returned to me by the following institutions: Seattle Public Library (at least ten times), University of Washington Libraries (also at least ten times), King County Public Library - Shoreline Branch (once), King County Public Library - Redmond Branch (once), Sno-Isle Public Library (no idea what branch, only once). Just recently one of the curatorial interns did me the huge favor of picking up a book that had been turned into the Lost and Found at the University of Washington Student Union (the HUB) - thank goodness they called me and let me know it was there.

We've encountered a few of our missing books on eBay too (there is that possibility these books were not stolen, but truly given to people and never removed from the system). Hey, I have no idea what happened here before 2003!

Today, I received a missing book from the furthest place yet - Williamstown, Massachusetts. According to Mapquest, that's 2,904.5 miles away. No note was included, but I do know someone who now takes up shop in the land of the Purple Cow. You figure it out.

Let me just say I hope some day to receive several books back from the NYC area, more from Massachusetts, and possibly one from the Netherlands. At least I get some of them back.

The Weirdest Week Ever?

2008-06-30T22:48:00.000-07:00

This week brought its fair share of hard to answer questions, run-ins with people who clearly don't understand how this all works and visitors who perhaps missed some social cues...

The week started with a gentleman calling trying to find an image of a "harlequin" painted by John Singer Sargent. He said his wife had seen it in a Sargent exhibition we had a number of years ago. Okay, that doesn't seem too hard. I pull the catalogue and search it page by page. I find pictures of gypsies, and some of women in exotic dress, but no harlequins. I ask him about the possibility of a gypsy or Turkish woman (not that I think they have anything to do with harlequins) and he understandably got a little peeved. He knew what gypsies and Turkish women looked like. We never found that one...

Next, I get a message from our web site from a person wanting to know "which painting was on the left wall down the hall" from an exhibition we had nearly ten years ago. I thought "is this person serious?" Which hallway?! I asked one of my very-helpful colleagues to help me get a checklist of the exhibition - she did (she's so good!) I sent that to him and suggested maybe one of the titles would ring a bell. You know what I got back? Nothing. You know what else? "You're welcome!"

Then, I get a call from a rather brash man (notice I didn't say "gentleman") who wants to know about a painting he's acquired by an Italian artist. Before actually speaking to this person, he had left a message that exceeded the space provided by my voicemail inbox (which, as far as I know, has never happened before). In this message he described where he was calling from, complete with explicit directions on how to get to his house from the city I work in. He referred to me more than once as a "young lady," and he said he knew the painting must be worth a lot because on the back it said "original oil painting made in Italy."

I made the unwise decision of calling this man back to find out more information about the painting. During our 15-minute-plus conversation, I learned he is on social security, but that he works odd jobs under the table because social security doesn't pay him enough to get by. These odd jobs include, but are not limited to, pressure washing "commercial buildings" (I guess he doesn't do residential work). I also learned that he needs to keep things as they are because all of his medical expenses are paid. I didn't ask. After some doing, I finally get the rest of the details about the painting.

I told him that we ask people to give us two to three weeks to do the research. He gets angry and says it's ridiculous that it should take so long. "All you have to do is plug the name in the computer, how long does that take?" he says. I explain that I'm the only staff person here and that although his request might not take two to three weeks to do, he has about twenty requests in line before his. He calms down. I didn't have the heart to tell him if it says "original oil painting made in Italy," chances are it's made for the trade (valuable works wouldn't say anything on them - and if they were Italian, it would be in Italian). It's sort of like the "classy lady" bumper sticker - if you have one, you probably aren't.

I look forward to calling him back with the news...

On this same day, a family comes into the library: a mom, dad and a little boy probably around seven or eight. The dad asks me about a book on display in a gallery downstairs. This is the first time I've gotten to put something downstairs in the galleries, so I'm pretty excited that he noticed it and had some interest. Then, his son notices my Hello Kitty Pez dispensers on top of one of my bookshelves. This kid is some sort of Pez aficionado (really). He talks to me for - literally - 20 minutes about Pez. He has 76 Pez in his collection. He tells me 11% are Santa Claus figures. He tells me about the two "good" books written on Pez collecting and how someday he's going to write a book that will be much better. I think my phone rang three different times during this encounter. Neither parent made a move to say "why don't you get that" or "okay, son, that's enough - this lady is probably pretty busy."

This situation was weird. The kid was really cute and I was somewhat mesmerized by his sincere knowledge on the subject and his obvious passion. I was also a little dismayed by the fact that to end this, I had to stand up, and continue to talk as I slowly guided them out of the library and towards the elevator. As the elevator doors closed (and this kid was still talking), the mom said "he's not shy."

It was shortly thereafter that one of my wonderful volunteers came in. She's this really amazing person who can really sense things. As soon as she got in she said "something really weird is going on in here." Yes it was.

Oops, I Do It Too

2008-06-17T20:31:00.000-07:00

I get a fair share of phone calls (and emails) from people who have a work of art that they describe as "beautiful" or of "really high quality." This is usually attached to artist's names we can never find. So, from an art market perspective, it's probably not that "high quality."

It doesn't mean it can't still speak to someone. Perhaps it really is beautiful and just not marketed successfully. Who knows? And the Rubens story aside, who am I to judge?

The problem lies wherein folks refuse to believe me or get somewhat upset (sometimes bordering on angry) when we can't find any existence online or in print of an artist by that name. I'm telling them, without actually saying it, that this piece they own probably has no monetary value.

I've done my share of eye-rolling afterwards.

Then, I realized... I do it too. Over the last few weeks I've been trying to consign a 1948 dinette set we bought about seven years ago. We spent a whopping $500 on it at a high-end junk store. Even now, it still feels like it was a lot of money, but it was worth it for this amazing piece of American dining history. I've since found the original ad for this table and it pretty much looks the same as it did in 1948. It's a classic - any hipster with a 1950s-themed kitchen would die for this set. Or would they?

I put it on Craigslist at $300. Not a single inquiry. Not even a "would you take this amount for it?" I've never had this kind of non-response there!

I started talking to a consigner in my neighborhood about it and he said he might be able to get $600 for it (based on the pictures I sent), but he'd need to see it in person to be certain. No problem. I'm happy to load it up in my car and take it over there.

One thing I've neglected to mention is that we have two cats and over the past seven years they've jumped up on this table a number of times. It has scratch marks in the top - not too bad, but they're there. When I photographed the table and chairs out in the sun, they didn't really seem that noticeable.

The consigner took one look at only a corner of the table (as I took the blanket off) and said he wouldn't take it. I say "but it's so cool and we paid lots of money for it." Then I get to "okay, I'm fine to just get $200 for it..." By the end of the conversation I was practically begging him just to give me something for it. It's so beautiful!

Oops, I do it too.

Book Fairies

2008-06-04T21:33:00.000-07:00

One of the nicest things about working in the museum library is all of the free books we get. These come from a myriad of places: donations from members or the public, from staff or from the "library exchange" program - a program where we give other institutions copies of our publications in exchange for copies of theirs. You can imagine the great stuff we get from places like the Walker Art Center or LACMA.

We have one long-time patron who readily gives us books from his own collection as he downsizes. I always look forward to his donations which usually include multi-volume catalogue raisonnes and beautiful European books. He usually gives us things we could never afford on our meager book-buying budget. (And you know how expensive art books are!) He is, without a doubt, incredibly generous.

Many other wonderful books and catalogues are found in my office on my chair or on my desk; sometimes, they're left on the filing cabinet outside of my office or on the reference desk counter - many, many times with no note. I like to call these anonymous donors the "book fairies."

Since Monday, I've received three (that's right, three) copies of the exhibition catalogue for "El Greco to Velazquez: Art During the Reign of Philip III" at the MFA Boston. One came from a curator, the other two just showed up: one on my chair and the other mysteriously in my mailbox unwrapped. This catalog retails for $65. Aw, the book fairies, hard at work.

You may wonder what we do with these extra goodies. We sell them!!* In fact, we'll be having a huge book sale in August to benefit the libraries. So, the book fairies not only give me great stuff, they give me great stuff to sell to buy more great stuff.

Thanks book fairies!

*Okay, occasionally, these unused copies go to struggling artists and writers - you know who I'm talking about. Mums the word!

Publishers Just Don't Understand

2008-05-29T18:59:00.000-07:00

When I was in library school, my cataloging professor told us this tale about The Atlantic Monthly. It's notorious among serials catalogers (those who catalog journals, magazines, etc.) for being an example of publishers not considering re-naming choices on the librarians who catalog their publications. It stuck with me. One of the first rules of cataloging is that you catalog a work's title from the title page for books or the masthead or cover for serials.

Case in point: The Atlantic Monthly (which is what people generally call it) started out as Atlantic Monthly (no "the") in 1857. In 1866, it absorbed another magazine called Galaxy and then in 1910 it absorbed another called Putnam's Magazine. In 1932, someone decided to just call the magazine Atlantic (no "Monthly" and no "the"). Then, in 1971 it went back to Atlantic Monthly. In 1981, they changed their minds again and went back to simply Atlantic. Lastly, in 1993, they went back one last time and changed it back to Atlantic Monthly. I think the serials catalogers at the Library of Congress got so sick of having to make new records every time the title changed, that someone added "Variant Title: Some issues have cover title: Atlantic." And, by the way, it's not always published monthly anymore either...

Now I know what you guys are thinking - especially those of you who aren't librarians - "who cares?!" Right?

Most people know - even though the Atlantic Monthly has changed their name multiple times and moved their offices to DC after 150 years in Boston - you can still buy a copy of the Atlantic Monthly (or a publication of a similar name) at any reputable newsstand. The problem lies with less well-known publications. A change in name or frequency can lead some to think it no longer exists.

The museum I work for has a newsletter it sends to members. It's not only filled with information on programs and events, it often contains information on new acquisitions, new hires and detailed information about exhibitions. This is really useful information for researchers trying to establish object provenance or trace careers of certain individuals. Over the years our newsletter publication has been called many, many things: Calendar, Newsletter, Program Guide, Program Guide & Members News, Programs, Members' News, Membership News, Members' News/Program Guide and [museum name]connects. Some, but not all, of these titles were preceded by the museum name.

Our most recent publication came out during one of the biggest shows we've ever had. The publication was glossy and big - something to be proud of. But you know what it lacked? A title!! There was no title on it anywhere! Even I didn't know what it was when it showed up in the racks downstairs.

Will the librarians who catalog our publications in other institutions know about the continued existence of our publications? Maybe not. It's too bad because lots of time and energy go into these things.

I've had serials librarians at other institutions ask me (on more than one occasion) why we stopped publishing our newsletter in the 1980s. We didn't!! It just changed names four times in that glorious decade.

(This was a rant!) Thanks for listening.

My Love-Hate Relationship with Magazines

2008-05-18T21:27:00.000-07:00

Our library, like many other research library, subscribes to a wide range of journals. We subscribe to some mildly esoteric ones: the Renaissance Quarterly and NKA: The Journal of Contemporary African Art and the American Indian Culture and Research Journal to name a few. We also subscribe to some with a much broader readership (or potential readership): ARTnews, Artforum International, Aperture, Sculpture, Art in America, Native Arts and more.

In addition to getting the monthly subscriptions for the library, it is also my responsibility to populate the public reading areas of the museum with materials that connect somehow to what's on view. Compared to books, magazines are relatively inexpensive, they tend to be up-to-date and they provide short enough bits of reading that someone can sit down for ten minutes and learn something. I love reading about who might win the Turner Prize or what auction record Sotheby's broke this week. You can't get that from books. Magazines, however, also cause me lots and lots of headaches!

We tried a number of things when our museum first re-opened with its newly-enacted "public spaces" (i.e. places you can go in the museum without being required to pay admission) to promote our permanent collection and special exhibitions. I was responsible for supplying materials in a number of places - two in particular which caused me great pain: 1. our large entry hall where people wait for others to purchase tickets or see an amazing very large-scale art installation and 2. an area half a floor down where people could access reading materials along with computer kiosks accessing our online collection.

Before I go on, let me give you some background on how I selected and planned to keep track of these materials. I chose magazines that had wide appeal and dealt with subject areas in which the museum collects: all of the magazines I mentioned above. In addition to stamping the magazines on front and back inside covers with the name of the library, I also put a sturdy plastic bookmark, affixed semi-permanently to the back inside cover with "Property of...do not remove" and the location in the museum in which it belonged.

The first day, I put sixteen magazines out. The next day... they were ALL gone! There were a lot of events going on at the time and furniture was getting moved back and forth frequently. Okay... maybe someone moved them but "forgot" to put them back. I sent out an email to the staff who work with events asking that if they remove magazines to please put them back after events.

I put sixteen more magazines out a week later. Two days after that... GONE. No one knows where they went. Then... people start finding my "do not remove" bookmarks in various parts of the museum and start returning them to me. "Traci? Is this yours?" "What is this thing anyway?" "We found this in one of the boardrooms." Nice.

One question: Why would you come to a museum and steal magazines? You can't sell them - they've been destroyed when the bookmark got ripped off the back cover. And if it's the same person(s), do they really need six damaged copies of June's ARTnews?

There's another reason I'm about to put magazines on my black list. Staff may check out materials from the library and they often check out magazines and journals. Most only keep them a couple of days then return them. (This is part of the "love" part.)

Typically the public visitors we get come in with specific questions about a particular work or artist. We do have a few patrons who come just to look at the latest periodicals, but don't need to see one magazine in particular - they're just there to catch up on the latest art-world news. (Which is great!) Last week, we had a visitor come in the library and ask if we had Artforum. We do, but one of the curators had it out. She was furious! And I mean furious. She was so furious that she wrote a letter!

I neglected to say that after five months of stocking magazines in those public spaces and having them consistently ripped off, I stopped doing it. Hmmm... Did I cut off someone's supply?? :)

Don't Throw It Away!

2008-05-08T22:40:00.000-07:00

I recently learned of a work of art of historical importance nearly being thrown in the trash. This is the second one I've heard of in recent years and both were discovered by librarians - luckily before their demise.

The first was several years ago. Another librarian from the Northwest called me and asked if I had ever heard of a Northwest sculptor Dudley Pratt. I was somewhat new on the job and still a bit new to the region, so the name didn't ring an immediate bell. She told me that the library she worked for had received a gift of the contents of a small amusement park (!) years before and she was given the task of going through the contents to decide what to keep and what to get rid of. While sifting through the cotton candy machines and ferris wheels, she found a sculpture that reminded her of a Northwest sculptor - Dudley Pratt. She wanted to be sure before they got rid of it. Smart woman!

I started looking into the matter. It turned out that our library had an artist file on Pratt. He was born in Paris in 1897, ended up in Seattle where he raised his family, and died in 1975. Among other amazing things, he was a student of Alexander Archipenko and his work is held in a number of museums. I was able to find several images of his work and sent it to her. She said the images looked very much like the work she had found. After a bit more research we were able to find information about a sculpture he had made which at one time had been part of a fair! Bingo. Needless to say, they didn't throw it out.

If you are interested in learning more about Pratt, look here.

Today I was reminded again about the keen eye of the librarian. A librarian from the other side of the Sound came in to do research on Margaret Camfferman. Now, I've been here long enough to know exactly who Margaret Camfferman is. She's one of Washington State's most beloved female painters.

The library in which this librarian worked had recently had a bunch of stuff from the city returned to them after a number of years - furniture, artwork, etc. They were trying to figure out what to do with it all. The librarian saw one of the paintings leaning against a wall near the elevators kind of in a pile of "what should we do with this?" stuff. In fact, a couple of people suggested they hang it in one of the public bathrooms!

Because Camfferman came from her town, she was somewhat familiar with her work too and thought this might be one of her paintings. The painting was signed "MG." It was hers. Before Camfferman married artist Peter Camfferman, her maiden name was Gove. Nice save. The librarian promised to let me know where they end up hanging it.

To learn more about Margaret Camfferman see here.

Oh, for the love of SPAM

2008-04-25T07:05:00.000-07:00

Like everyone, we get our daily dose of spam delivered to our main library email address. On average we get between one hundred to three hundred per day, most of which is blessedly filtered out.

It always amazes me the ploys and tricks these folks use to try to get us to open the email. Most start with "Hey Libraries" or "Libraries I miss you!" All of the below are the email subjects followed occasionally by some of the body text. I believe that fake watches have now surpassed male enhancement drugs for the most emails.

I thought you might enjoy some samples from last night's go round (consider all of these "sic"):

Every librarian needs a really replica (i.e. fake) watch!

Looking for a perfect gift ? Get a Rolex.
Special offer only for you. Rolex watches as low as 229 $
Replica watches get 25% price off...MY JEWELER COULD NOT TELL IT WAS NOT A REAL ROLEX!
wristwatches, exclusive timepieces, chronographs & luxury lifestyle
[Oh, oh my favorite:] Chopard Watches...Why would you want to purchase a replica watch from King-replicas? There may be many reasons: 1. You want a genuine Rolex / Breitling watch, but the price is too ridiculous 2. You want to impress your friends or business clients 3. You want to keep your original safe, while using the replica for daily wear and tear on it.

Male enhancement offers (we're all women; okay "love wand" made me giggle):

darrel ligouri!!! Vaigra nad Cailis Sexual enhancement right now!
A few simple steps to power ...[I had to remove this part - uck!]... Beware Girls will start hunting for you, when you try this enhancement method! If you don't feel proud about the dimensions of your love wand, check out our offer!

Just enjoy:

Re: Hi scent of love...Don't get left behind, smell like a winner! Get all girls around!
[I don't even understand what this means, but it makes me queasy:] tiaremuh...Lab-tested female sensual enhancer. The only painkiller you ever needed.
The solution to a lonely weekend. Dress up with deals on Gucci and Prada & more...Your boss at work will know that you mean business. Deals on BOSS shoes and more.
We caught you naked libraries [Yikes, I don't even want to click the link on this one; if you guys caught us naked, I guess the museum security cameras did too!]

The Accidental Critic

2008-04-16T22:01:00.000-07:00

I work in a museum which means I'm knee-deep in art physically and socially. I've been around an art crowd most of my adult life: galleries, university museums, small town museums, large town museums, art bars, art parties, art happenings. Like any other scene, the art scene in any town has its stars and its misfits. Offbeat personalities are okay with me. Most of the time it makes things interesting. I just wish, after all of this time, I could tell the "art ones" from the "not-really-here-for-the-art ones."

In the first year of my current job I was still learning the local players. Simultaneously, I think the word must have gotten out that there was a new librarian and the "not-really-here-for-the-art ones" decided it was high time to check out the library where they could get free internet and a captive audience to listen to all of their current issues and ideas.

After a number of these folks' visits, I began to hone my "and what exactly can I help you with?" skills. Honestly, I hate being rude - it makes me feel yucky (chuck that up to my Southern upbringing) - but I got desperate enough in my need to get rid of these people that I started to get better at it.

One day, a tallish man comes in, comes right up to the desk and just starts talking to me for several minutes. He kind of looks off to the side when he's talking, he's a little twitchy and he has a generally "odd" manner. He talks to me about politics and starts on about how kids today don't care at all about how our country works: they don't know the name of the Speaker of the House (yep, I know that one), the Senate Minority Leader (um, I think it's...), the current President (I know, but I wake up every morning hoping it was all just a bad dream), etc. After I bumble through his list, I tell him I agree and start to imagine ways to get him out of here.

I say "is there something I can help you with?" He keeps on about the kids. I finally muster the courage to say "sir, this is an art library, is there something art-related I can help you with?" He looks a little sheepish then starts to speak.

Just then, one of the museum's PR people comes in and says "Oh, Mr. so-and-so... I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. I'm so glad you got a chance to see our library and meet our new librarian." She made an eye at me while emphasizing the word "new" - I think that meant she understood. I hope it did. He was an art critic here from a cushy out-of-town paper to review our current exhibition.

Can someone please get these people name badges?!

In the end, he gave the exhibition a fair and honest review. I think everyone at the museum was pleased. Me, I was just thanking my lucky stars he wasn't there to review the library...

That Rubens I Own

2008-04-09T20:42:00.000-07:00

Don't get me wrong, I love the Antiques Roadshow. I get more excited than anyone when someone has something of sincere historical value or an unknown work by a prominent artist. I love it when someone truly has no idea the pitcher they've been serving tea out of since the 70s is really piece of Georgian silver worth $80,000 that belongs in a museum. I also sometimes snicker at the know-it-alls who "know beyond a doubt" they have a Van Gogh - they're only there to find out its staggering worth in today's art market - but find out what they really have is a late twentieth century copy by a lowly art student that somehow ended up in someone's yard sale. (I do only smirk at the know-it-alls.)

The Antiques Roadshow has also had a profound effect on the art libraries of this country. People now come in droves to university, public and museum libraries seeking signature confirmation on a painting, the manufactory mark identification on a piece of porcelain, what type of art they have from a South Pacific island. They want to do everything possible to get information before they pay an appraiser to authenticate something or find out its monetary value. I understand that - it doesn't make sense to pay someone $150 to tell you your piece of art is worth $25. We get our fair share of requests for this "pre-appraiser" information in my library.

The unfortunate thing about Antiques Roadshow is that it gives people hope that every piece of art - brilliant, marginal, crappy or otherwise - is worth big money. Maybe even enough to get them out from under a terrible financial situation. This is when it gets ugly for me...

In an earlier post I said that I often feel bad when we can't figure out what something is - especially when it seems like something really nice. There are other times when someone clearly has something not of significant value and they won't take no for an answer. For these folks. I usually don't end up feeling bad, I end up feeling icky.

Take this semi-recent example: A woman calls and said she found a Peter Paul Rubens (Flemish painter and draftsman, 1577-1640) "mold" in her house (like something you would create a statue or bust from) and she wants to know what it's worth. First off, I'm fairly certain that she couldn't possibly have a mold made by Rubens. He just didn't really do a lot of three dimensional works.

I start by telling her that, for liability reasons, we can't authenticate or give value estimates on any piece of art. I guess she didn't understand because the next thing she asks is "when can I bring this in so you can tell me how much it's worth?" I say again, "we can't tell you what it's worth, but we can try to figure out if Rubens made something like this or if possibly it's something else."

Well, people do not want to hear that it's not who or what they think it is. She said that she would bring "her Rubens" in so I could look at it - then I'd see! I then tell her that it is against museum rules to bring an art object into the museum. It's fine to bring a photograph, but she CANNOT bring the work itself in. She pauses, then tells me she'll be by the next day at 10:30am. OK.

So...she arrives promptly at 10:30am (okay, she's on time - good sign), she looks perfectly normal, and then proceeds to pull out this "mold!" I reminded her that she cannot have this in the museum and that she will be asked to take it out immediately. She holds it up and just tells me to look at it. I do.

It's some sort of plastic form in which you might bake something. Granted the scenery could possibly be misconstrued as some sort of a Renaissance Christmas scene, but it's more easy-bake oven, than tool of a master. Uggg... I tell her she needs to put it back in her bag.

I've just never had the strength to be able to tell someone that their object is just a piece of worthless junk. I just can't do it. I do tell her I think it's plastic, which couldn't possibly have come from the 16th or 17th century. But, I can bring out some Rubens books if she'd like to look through them.

She looks for a while. I go back to my office and drown myself in email. She comes to my office door and says "look, my husband has just filed for divorce. He's going to take everything. I need to get some money out of this." She even starts to cry. I give her a tissue and tell her the only thing I can do is give her the numbers of some appraisers. They are the only ones who can authenticate and put a value on the work. She takes the numbers and leaves.

I call my friend at the local public library and tell her what happened. She deals with "crazy library people" (her words) all of the time. At her library, it's so prevalent that they teach their employees techniques for cutting the patron off before it can even reach this level in quarterly classes. I ask her if employees of other libraries can attend. She says, "unfortunately, no."

Your Namesake’s Lover

2008-04-06T09:42:00.000-07:00

As I’ve stated, we are open to the public and people do not need to pay museum admission to access the library. This opens us up to some of the same issues other public libraries face – including not being able to pick and choose who from the public visits…

A man came into the library. I could tell right away that something wasn’t quite right. I wouldn’t say he appeared homeless, but he had the look of just coming from a very messy construction site. He was probably in his 40s.

He came to the desk and asked me if we had a picture of the woman for which our library is named. Our patroness passed away in 1989 at the age of 97. She was very well known in the community and responsible for the largest television and one of the largest radio stations in town. If this current library patron had even met her, it would have been nearly twenty years ago when she was in her 90s and he was in his 20s or 30s.

The library patron proceeds to tell me he needs the picture of her to keep for sentimental reasons – she was his lover in the 1980s.

What?!

He continues to tell me about their jaunts on her yacht and how vivacious she was right up until the end. I think he also started describing some of their trysts, but at that point I shut my ears off and started to make a mental list of things I needed to pick up at the grocery store. He also told me how he’d completely forgotten about this part of his life until he saw her name on our library brochure down in the museum’s lobby.

Somehow I knew that brochure – which took me years to finally get made – would have some unforeseen consequences.

Thank goodness one of my very-observant co-workers noticed what was happening and came over to remind me of a very important meeting I needed to be at – right now! Thanks GB!!

I printed the patron out a picture from a public history web site and sent him on his way…

Thank you

2008-04-02T21:38:00.000-07:00

Every now and then, something happens - even something small - that makes me feel good about what I do.

A few weeks ago, a woman brought pictures in of a painting she owned. She wanted to know more about it. This is a pretty typical kind of request. The painting she owned was a portrait resembling Leo Tolstoy and it was signed in a Russian name which she could not read. She asked if we could help her identify the artist.

I sent out a call to my co-workers to see if anyone that read Russian could come help at least transliterate the name. Several people responded (so nice!) Well, it was a signature, so it wasn't exactly easy. It was stylized and possibly written in old Russian. Two Russian readers were able to give me some idea of what it might read, but they weren't positive.

We tried, in vain, to find an artist that might fit the versions of the signature we were working from (and other similarities). I always feel terrible when we can't find an answer - especially when it's a nice work like this one was. So, I returned the patron's photographs and included a letter documenting our assumptions of the signature possibilities and the numerous places we'd looked.

Normally, that's the end of it. I assume the person gets the letter, is disappointed and that's that.

A few days later, this patron called and told me "thank you" and how much she appreciated all of the work I'd gone to on her behalf. She even said she wanted to make a donation to the museum because of the good service she'd received! (Blush.) The funniest part was as I was just hanging up from this stunning phone call, the director walked in, saw my face and asked me what was wrong. I told her "someone actually called just to say 'thank you.'"

: )

Woman in a Red Dress

2008-03-31T21:22:00.000-07:00

We get a lot of art research requests from the general public. We answer general questions related to our museum - "who did that painting of a woman down in the American gallery?" - and general questions that may or may not be related - "was Paul Klee Swiss or German?" (he was Swiss by the way). Answering these questions is often one of the most enjoyable parts of the job. Librarians love to find things - the more needle-in-a-haystack it is, the better! Nothing feels as good as finding the answer. (If you think that's weird, that's probably why you chose a different career path.)

We do, however, sometimes get questions we just can't (or won't) answer:

Q: I'm furious that you guys (the museum I work for) removed that really cool sculpture downtown at the corner of...what happened to it?
A: First off, it isn't the museum's sculpture - it's owned by the city - and, secondly, they didn't remove it! (He just looked in the wrong place.) Sheesh.

Q: There is a painting I saw in the Pike Place Market several years ago that I really liked. Could you tell me how to get in touch with the artist?
A: Here's the phone number to the Pike Place Market Association...

Q: I saw this really great book about this really great photographer in the gift shop at SFMOMA. Could you tell me how I could buy it?
A: (Hint: I don't work at SFMOMA) Um, here's the phone number to the SFMOMA Shop...

This one's my favorite (and completely true):
Patron: "I saw this picture of a woman in a red dress. Do you know who did it?"
Me: "Um, I need a little more information. Is there anything else you can tell me about it? Was it a painting or a photograph?"
Patron: "I think it was a painting. I just remember it was red."
Me: "How old do you think it was?"
Patron: "It was pretty old."
Me: "How old? Do you know what century?"
Patron: "Oh, at least 100 years ago."
Me: "Ok, so you think it's maybe late 19th century or early 20th century?"
Patron: "No, I'd say it's older."
Me: "Do you remember where you saw it? Was it at a museum?"
Patron: "No, I think I saw it on TV one time."
Me: "Do you remember what show or when?"
Patron: "No, it was a while ago."
Me: "Hello, are you still there... hello... hello?" [ok, she was still there, but I had work to do!] click...
P.S. I wanted to say "lay off the crack pipe," but I refrained. Professionalism is of the utmost importance. :)

We also get a lot of requests related to art works people own themselves (or are about to buy on eBay), but that's a whole different post. Stay tuned...

Read it to me baby!

2008-03-27T21:16:00.000-07:00

Near my library, there is a major research university, several private universities and colleges and a number of community colleges. Students frequent the library - usually at the end of the quarter - when they've been assigned papers analyzing an object in the museum's collection. The museum library is, reasonably, a great place to go to find out more.

Most of these students come in, do their research, say the occasional "thank you" and leave. Some come in, tell me they're desperate because their paper is due tomorrow morning or, on occasion, later the same day, and they'll take whatever I can give them. They take it, they often do say thank you, then they leave. I try to be patient (hey, I wasn't the model student either). Then there are the select few who feel it really isn't necessary to come in - even when the information they need is only available in print. [Let me pause for a moment and relay that the library has a very, very small budget and presently no scanner. Additionally, I am the only staff person. The nearest scanner is down in the development office which is nearly a city block away from my desk.] So... if they can't come in and I don't have it in electronic form... what should we do?

It's actually been suggested to me that I read the information to them over the phone! These are things like essays, biographical entries and old newspaper articles. One person even told me that I would need to talk slowly so that he could take notes.

Okay. I can tolerate a lot. Just the fact I've been at my job for five years is proof of that. Not only am I way too busy to read passages over the phone, but it's audacious. Plus, wouldn't doing it be some form of enabling? Librarians love to help people, but we do have our limits...

Just an Art Librarian

2008-03-27T20:45:00.000-07:00

I'm just an art librarian. I work in a medium sized library in a regional museum. I've been there about five years and have witnessed my share of weird questions, strange requests and patrons who sometimes don't live by the same social codes that the rest of us do. The library is considered part of the museum's "public spaces" - it's open to the public and people do not have to pay museum admission to visit us. Most of the time, this seems like a good idea. I generally like people. My job is certainly no crazier than anyone else's, but it does have its peculiarities. I'll be blogging about those... enjoy!