Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Museum of Making Music


Looking to discover American pop music through the 1900’s? That’s what the Museum of Making Music promises to help you do, located in sunny Carlsbad, California, near San Diego. I went there in late August 2008, and this raised for me some interesting questions on how to communicate information in a museum setting.

(Alright, I know that there’s more time going back to summer 2008 than there is time until summer 2009, but I took notes.)

I’ll describe what I saw first, and then I’ll close with my own reflections.

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I thought I’d go when I was in the area because of my own interest in music. I have played a few instruments and even composed a few pieces of music myself. Also, it was only $7.

As we moved past the greeter, who was incredibly friendly and gave an overview of the exhibits, I found myself in the 1900’s area. They had audio samples, including the John Philip Sousa Band and music from dance halls. This was great, and naturally, expected, for a museum of music, and they were scattered about in all the different sections.

There was actually a fairly cohesive narrative throughout the entire museum. Each section moved decade to decade, and there were instruments, information panels, as well as sound samples.

The greeter had failed to mention the special exhibits advertised on the website on violins and guitars (separately), but they were in there. The violins were separate from the main narrative, but what I think was the special guitar exhibit was integrated pretty seamlessly.

I think all of this was fine, with sound, visuals, and text information. Certainly, I got my money’s worth. But that was it, the museum just seemed “fine.”

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The first thing I noticed was that in the 1900’s the audio samples conflicted with the sound samples of instruments just twenty feet away. It was distracting when listening to some of the ballads, especially since one of the instrument sounds was a tuba playing a really active bass line. As I moved through the museum, I found that there were several audio samples that didn’t play at all—including the ones for an entire section on early jazz music.

Visually, the arrangements were confusing. In the early decades, from the 1900’s-1920’s, they would put violins with trumpets with banjos in the same case without any real explanation. I suppose for the non-musician, there wouldn’t be much of a distinction, but that’s part of the problem: there is a distinction between violins, trumpets, and banjos. They sound different, and are used in very different musical settings.

Some exhibits were a bit tedious. There were maybe 40 violins on display of different styles in their featured exhibit. A video panel was on the side, visually showing the differences in violins. I thought the video was okay, but it seemed like the expectation was then to take the new knowledge and explore the violins in the case. That seemed like a bit much, even for a musician (who doesn’t play the violin, however). I really only wanted to hear any differences between the makes

Lastly, visitor participation was strange. While I took my time in all of the areas, absorbing the information that was available, families with children would just rush through. The children would push the buttons without waiting for the audio track to finish, and the parents, naturally, would follow along. The children were given a worksheet to complete, and even their parents would just ask “Did you find the answer yet?”

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Where does all this leave us? I had some thoughts on museums in general.

Narrative. I appreciated the narrative that the museum weaved for us, and while there doesn’t have to be a straight narrative in every museum, there should be some sort of organizing structure. There was one path through this museum with clearly labeled sections and recurring themes in the information panels. That allows us to digest the information in reasonable chunks and even trace different themes across the sections. This is true for every sort of communication, but I hadn’t realized it was also true of museums.

Participation. While I got to choose which audio samples I listened to or not, there didn’t seem to be too much activity on my part. In the end, I almost felt as if I had to wade through the information, as if trying to finish a long article. There was too much to read (although maybe that is to be expected), and not enough to pull me from reading to reading. I didn’t have in my head too many guiding questions. Instead of actively searching for information, it was passive skimming. There weren’t any guiding themes explicitly proposed by the museum either. I only caught on after three or four decades. (Perhaps I am slow…)

Balance of medium. Since this was a museum about music, that should have been the main focus. Instead, there was way more visual information than audio information, including way too many displays of instruments without audio samples. And in general, a museum should have as its medium the focus on the subject matter, not just displays or expository material. I can go to the internet for those.

Information elsewhere. I could have found images of a variety of instruments put together, just by looking up "musical instruments." I could have enjoyed the violin video on youtube without having a case of 40 violins waiting for me. I wanted the museum to give me something that I can't find elsewhere. This means more than providing information, but combining selected bits with engaging activities.

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These are just some starting points for me to think about museums in a structured way. I’ve skipped over a few aspects like location and advertising because at this point, they seemed less instructive.

Overall assessment of this museum: Lots of information is nice, but not enough to make a museum. The content must be filtered until it creates a graspable experience by the visitor. In other words, “just show me the good stuff, and I’ll look up the rest later.”

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Quick Note, The Ending of a Brass Quintet Concert, and Toilet Paper Roll Holders


I recently re-discovered Uncle Orson Reviews Everything, and I’d like my blog to follow in his footsteps. He reviews all sorts of things, from book releases to restaurants to maps. In each post he has several, perhaps unrelated topics. You should check it out.

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Friday evening I attended a concert by the brass quintet, A Touch of Brass. I might write a fuller review later, but I just want to talk about the end of the concert.

This concert took place in at the St. John Anglican Church, which meant that for the performers to get on and off stage, they had to walk across the entire length of the room—through the audience.

After they played their last number, they stood up, took a bow, and then started to leave the stage. Some people started to give a standing ovation, and soon almost everyone was standing, before the performers had made it across the room.

After they had finished leaving the room entirely, they then marched on back in for an encore. It was lively too, with a jazzy feel.

Afterwards, I wondered about the whole procedure. I haven’t gone to too many small ensemble concerts myself, but I have seen encores. Most notably in my memory is the OBDA Select Band concert where the high school band led by Jerry Junkin played the “Overture to Candide,” much faster than before. Very flashy.

My friend Héctor told me that he doesn’t clap for performances unless he truly enjoyed it. That seemed like a fair deal. You wouldn’t want to lie to anyone, and when he claps, you know that he actually liked it.

I was wondering about the standing ovation. Was this concert with a standing ovation? What are the standards for a standing ovation anyway?

But as the performers were walking out, I decided, “you know, I’d like an encore. I want to see what else they have.” So I stood up and clapped along with everyone else.

Is the standing ovation the cue for an encore? Or does a standing ovation mean more?

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I don’t normally think about them, but aren’t toilet paper roll holders convenient? Think about the other options. We might have to carry around our own toilet paper—and what if you forgot it at home today?

Or, establishments with restrooms could still provide them, but in different ways. We could have toilet paper coming out sheet by sheet like tissue, or we might have to crank them out ourselves like paper towels. Automatically dispensing toilet paper roll holders seem a little excessive at this point (but who knows what will happen in a few years).

We currently have toilet paper roll holders which take a roll, and you can pull however much you need and rip it off. Sometimes, when using the economy-sized versions, the toilet paper gets stuck, and you struggle to get enough. Other times, you accidentally pull harder than you need to, and you end up with a whole wad of toilet paper. Sometimes, you might even pull the roll off the holder.

Well, Quest University Canada uses a brilliant solution to all of your toilet paper frustrations. In their Academic Building, they have twin toilet paper holders where the tube across the middle fits snuggly into the toilet paper roll, and the tube itself is an oval and is held up off-center.

The “twin” advantage is obvious, you get more toilet paper without big bulky economy-sized rolls. The tube in the middle fitting snuggly means you’ll never have the roll slipping off. But what of the oval?

When you pull on the toilet paper, the roll makes one turn, and then sinks back to the bottom without rolling over multiple times. The roll acts just like a pendulum, bringing the weight (ie. the roll) back to the center, and you’ll never have to worry about an excessive amount of toilet paper again!