Relación de la Comunidad con el Proyecto

The TMAG – “a quirky place”

Figure 4.1. The Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery.

My first encounter with the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery (see Figure 4.1) happened a year before I moved to Hobart, as a tourist. Visiting the local museum is always one of my first activities when I arrive in a new city. Before heading out to visit the TMAG, I remember locating it on a map and thinking it should be easy to find. It‘s centrally located on Hobart‘s waterfront, on Constitution Dock. In the 19th century this dock was the destination of trade ships sailing into port, and today is better known as the arrival point for the annual Sydney to Hobart yacht race. As I approached the museum complex from the east, the first building that caught my eye was a beautiful honey-colored sandstone building, the former Customs House—an imposing structure with a Baroque Revival façade that

approached the front door, I noticed a small sign that read ―administrative offices.‖ Recognizing that this was not the public entrance, I proceeded to walk along the east side of the museum complex. After passing by a chain-link fence, I came to a building constructed out of plain orange-red bricks. This very ordinary building looked conspicuously out of place as its architectural style was in sharp contrast to the grandeur of the stately structure standing next to it. As I walked a bit farther, I came across another entrance. An entrance also closed to the public. This entrance connected the brick building on the right with a beautiful two-storey sandstone building on the left. I strained to read the writing engraved on a brick above the door. It appeared to read 1863. I wondered if this might be the original museum building.

I followed the building around to the west side. From this perspective, I could appreciate the beauty of this part of the museum complex—the contrasting colored sandstone bricks used to construct the building and the beautiful arched ground-floor windows framed with burgundy paint. In front of the building, behind the green cast iron fence, stood a couple of eucalyptus trees, the species with large, gorgeous gum nuts hanging in clumps. After a brief pause, I continued to walk along the building until I came to a glass foyer tucked in-between two distinct sections of the museum. At last, I had found the main entrance. Bound on four sides by a multi-lane, one-way traffic system, the museum sits as a quiet oasis circled by a continuous flow of traffic, day and night. At the time, I had no idea of the

historical significance of the buildings that make-up the museum complex or that the museum is located on one of the most important archaeological sites in Australia. All I saw was the odd mix of buildings that is the TMAG.

Shortly after I moved to Hobart, the museum became a site that I started to visit. At that time, all I knew about it was that it was the state museum and that it

had a diverse collection that included art as well as natural and social history specimens and artifacts. Although from my initial visit to the museum I knew it displayed a wide range of objects, I had no idea how unique the museum‘s collection truly was. The TMAG is one of only three combined museum and art galleries in Australia. And it has the ―broadest collecting mandate of any single institution in Australia‖ (Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery, 2007, p. vii). Being new to the city, I wanted to know more about the museum and the community it serves. One of my first activities was to take a guided tour of the museum. I don‘t recall too much from that tour, only that the tour was not well attended—perhaps because tourist season had yet to begin in earnest. Over the next few months, I made regular visits to the museum. During those visits, I spent time observing people engaging with the museum. I wanted to get a feel for the people in the community and a sense of the history of the place. As I spent more time there, I found it to be a ―quirky‖ museum, one that fulfilled the mysterious promise of my first encounter there.

When I enter the TMAG through the front doors, I immediately experience a sense of contrast between old and new. The modern glass foyer is enclosed on the right side by a beautiful brick wall, presumably part of the original museum

building. From the front entrance, I sometimes head down a ramp to the left toward the recently renovated children‘s discovery space and Courtyard Café. From there, if there is a special exhibition on view, I proceed to the Commissariat Store (1808- 1810) and the Bond Store (1823-26), spaces used to house temporary exhibitions. On other visits, I walk straight ahead from the front entrance and up a short flight of stairs that lead to the main part of the museum. The first exhibition area I come to is a gallery that, at the time of the study, housed the Huon pine exhibition (and now serves as the new Tasmanian Aboriginal gallery). It is a beautiful gallery space with

high ceilings marked by intricately designed fixtures. The tall arched windows are visible but shaded to block out the natural sunlight. As I walk through the gallery, I can hear my footsteps on the original wood floors. The room has a slight musty smell, probably due in part to the old furniture on display.

From that beautiful, bright space, I enter the dimly lit zoology exhibition where I am greeted by a cage displaying video footage of the last living Tasmanian tiger—a disturbing image of a distressed creature pacing back and forth in his small enclosure in captivity. As I stand there watching the video, filled with sadness about the treatment and loss of this species, I hear the soothing sounds of bird calls

emanating from the sea diorama across the room. Scattered throughout the exhibition are a mix of hands-on displays and old style glass and timber museum cases displaying specimens of Tasmania‘s unique fauna.

There are a variety of ways to proceed through the museum from the zoology exhibition. If I walk through the gallery and to the right, I enter a small room where the museum‘s geology collection is on display. If I continue straight ahead from the gallery, I enter a formal-style stairway, where, because I know where to look, I find an Egyptian mummy tucked under the staircase. Or, I can climb a set of steep, narrow stairs located along the gallery‘s right wall that lead upstairs to the colonial art gallery. Looking up from that stairway, lined with a red oriental rug and beautiful wood banisters, my eyes are drawn to the gallery‘s red walls. Much of the colonial art gallery is in its original form, including the original Tasmanian cedar display cases built for the room. Opaque skylights in the room‘s high ceiling shed some natural light into the gallery. The gallery showcases the major colonial artists of Tasmania, including works of John Glover (1767–1849), W. C. Piguenit (1836–1914), and Benjamin Duterreau (1767–1851). As I walk through the quiet space, I experience the paradox of the place that is Tasmania—

natural beauty set against the history of conflict associated with European settlement.

As I continue to make my way around the museum, I come to a small gallery that represents another chapter in Tasmania‘s history, Convicts in Van Diemen’s Land. Upon entering the room, I see a black wooden box, a portable confinement box thought to be used as a dunking device—a punishment used to discipline prisoners while in transport. As I walk around the room, I am awed by the dark history of the place. From that exhibition area, I pass through the shipping room and then reach the newer part of the museum building, the 1960‘s wing. The second floor of this wing houses one of the museum‘s newest exhibitions, Islands to Ice. Unlike the museum‘s other exhibitions, this exhibition features many

interactive displays, including a 3D theater where visitors can view Frank Hurley‘s photographs from his 1911–1914 expedition to Antarctica. Appropriately, the windows in the rear of the gallery overlook the port of Hobart, the passageway to the Southern Ocean. I come away from this exhibition reminded, once again, of the uniqueness of the place, its isolation and close proximity to the Antarctic.

If I make my way down to the lower level, via the lift or stairs, I enter the part of the museum that serves as the main section of the art gallery. It is a large area made up of four different gallery spaces. These galleries are primarily used for temporary exhibitions. The TMAG has an active schedule of temporary exhibitions, both in-house and touring. Many of these exhibitions were mentioned by the study‘s participants during our conversations, including Creating a Gothic Paradise: Pugin and the Antipodes (Sept–Nov 2002), John Glover and the Colonial Picturesque (Nov 2003–Feb 2004), and National Treasures from Australia’s Great Libraries (May–July 2006).

Walking slowly back through the TMAG I wonder about all the stories this place holds—stories of the objects, and the stories of visitor‘s engagement with the place, and the quirkiness that marks its character.

Cecilia – “a place to lift your spirits”

It was a Monday afternoon when I phoned Cecilia to arrange a time and place to meet for our first interview session. Cecilia was very accommodating. She told me she was happy to meet me any time and at any location. She encouraged me to ―get going with it,‖ referring to my study, which was exactly what I needed to hear. After a brief chat, we decided to get together at her place later in the week. As I hung up the phone, I remember thinking how fortunate I was to have Cecilia as my first participant, someone who said all the ―right‖ things to me; someone who had helped put me at ease about conducting my first interview. As I continued to reflect on the conversation, it struck me that I was the one who was supposed to be putting her at ease. I hoped that she too hung up the phone feeling relaxed and comfortable about the journey on which we were about to embark.

On the day of the interview, I arrived at her flat huffing and puffing. It was a pleasant, brisk walk to her place, although a bit longer and hillier than I had

expected. As I walked, my mind raced with thoughts about how the interview would go. Cecilia greeted me at the door and I entered her flat. She told me to find a comfortable place to sit. After a brief discussion about where it would be best to set up the recording equipment, we decided to sit at a small table at the window in her lounge room. As we were getting ourselves settled, I looked around the room. I wanted to get a feel for the sort of things Cecilia likes to have surrounding her. I was drawn to the works of art hanging on the walls, especially the large nature photographs. The first work that caught my eye was a photograph of five children on a beach. I assumed, and later learned, that they were her children when they were very young. In addition to the large photographs, other artworks and small photos of her family were scattered throughout the room. As I glanced at her bookshelf, I

noticed a selection of art books and an Italian dictionary. The room had a very comfortable, cozy, and artistic feel to it.

After giving her a brief overview of the study, I started the interview by asking Cecilia to tell me about herself—her family, interests, interests in the arts, and community involvement. From the outset of the interview it was clear that the arts play a very important role in Cecilia‘s life. Her first words to me were: ―I think I‘ve always been interested in the arts, um, even as a young child though I wasn‘t encouraged into it.‖ That statement set the tone for placing Cecilia‘s museum visiting experiences in the context of her life history.

History of Involvement with the Arts and Museums

Cecilia was born in South Australia, and moved to Tasmania with her family when she was a very young child, around the age of two. She grew up in a small, rural, ―picturesque‖ town situated approximately 35 minutes northwest of Hobart— the same location where four previous generations on her mother‘s side of the family had settled. Cecilia remembers having an interest in art at a very early age, an interest she believes was sparked by the church-related experiences she had as a young child.

But I know where I started seeing artworks to begin with was ah, we had a [church] calendar at home, and I still buy this same sort of calendar each year, and it had, it has artworks from museums and art galleries all around the world. And that‘s when I think I first noticed art, on church walls, and you know, I was taking it in that way.

She does not have any memories of visiting museums or art galleries as a child, with her family or with school.

Reflecting on her childhood, she paints a picture of growing up in a home where the arts and creativity were not valued. Although she cannot recall receiving any direct encouragement from her parents to develop her artistic ability, today she

believes her father, through his eccentric interests, demonstrated creative tendencies, ―but in a very different sort of way, with junk.‖

Cecilia‘s school environment also lacked stimulation in the area of art. The only art experiences she recalls from her school days were doing ―maybe some of that paperwork‖ and the three art lessons she had.

And I had about three art lessons at school. My friends‘ mother was an artist, and I was so envious of the way they were drawing, and their mother came to the school to give art lessons and I got the feel of the colours, and (pause) you know…

By coincidence, she ran into that mother a few years ago while attending an art opening at the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery. During their conversation, the woman told her that she thought she had shown artistic talent.

One night I was at an art opening at the Museum and Art Gallery, this was about eight, nine years ago, and this same woman told me that she thought I was going to be good at art, and no one has ever said it to me (laugh). So it took me that long to hear that. I had to be in my fifties to hear what I would have loved to have heard [earlier].

Although formal art experiences were lacking in her childhood, Cecilia‘s creative juices were fed by participating in other arts-related activities both in and outside of school—drama, singing, and playing dress-up.

When I was a young girl, I liked the dressing up part, but you know that‘s artistic. And friends of mine, they acquired these theatrical clothes they found in a barn that a woman had had—these beautiful shoes to match the dresses, and organzas and silks and I thought I was in heaven.

She remembers attending ballet classes on Saturday mornings, and how devastated she was when the dance teacher stopped making visits to the ―country towns.‖

Cecilia recalls her formative years as being filled primarily with everyday issues of survival.

…but I wasn‘t in the environment to participate in, other than getting along with life every day, you know, survival. It wasn‘t about going to art school or, it was about getting a job and living and, you know, surviving.

At 16, after finishing three years of high school, Cecilia left home and moved in with her grandparents who lived in Hobart. Curious about this move, I asked her, ―But did you go on to finish high school?‖ ―Mmm, yes‖ she replied. ―But it was only third year high school.‖ ―And what did most people do?‖ I asked.

Cecilia replied:

They usually did four years. And I only did three years. Or six years— people did Schools Board which is the fourth year of high school plus matric,10 two years matric. But that wasn‘t really encouraged much. You know you were sort of encouraged to leave school. You either went into nursing or teaching, or to secretarial school.

At the age of 20, after working ―several jobs‖ and doing some interstate traveling, she returned to Hobart to get her certification as a ―mothercraft‖11 nurse. After finishing her studies, she sought employment in Western Australia. It was there, at the age of 22, that Cecilia found her way back to art. While working full- time as a mothercraft nurse in Perth, Cecilia enrolled in an art class that she attended in the evenings after work. She can still recall how excited she felt when she first learned ―how to hold the [drawing] pencil properly.‖

After leaving Western Australia, Cecilia moved around a bit, returning to Hobart for a short time, then moving to Melbourne. While in Melbourne, continuing to work as a mothercraft nurse, she began mingling with the ―performing arts

crowd.‖ She became ―involved more or less into the theatre, theatrical part of the arts … just going to shows and that sort of thing, but not participating.‖

After moving back to Tasmania in her mid-twenties, Cecilia again enrolled in an art class. During this time, she became romantically involved with an artist. As a result of that relationship, Cecilia started ―mixing‖ with artists and became

10_{In Tasmania, high school includes grades 7-10. Years 11 and 12 are referred to as matriculation}