![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The Indiana Jones approach to museums
Oct. 31st, 2011 08:25 pmWe've seen it a dozen times in movies or on tv. Harrison Ford - or Nicolas Cage or some such - dashes up the steps of a porticoed pile and into the imposing foyer. "I need to see Professor XXXX" he says. So either Richard Attenbrough or Denholm Elliott or Donald Sinden arrives unless they are feeling really progressive, in which case it'll be some willowy, effortlessly elegant theatrical dame slumming it a bit, like Helen Mirren.
"I am Professor XXXX" he or she says. "What is it that you need?"
The hero takes a deep breath. "In 1522, Sir John Mandrake-Fortescue-Bingley-cum-Chorlton was killed in a duel, failing to mention where he'd stashed the silver chalice with the engraving that gives the location of the Bingley-cum-Chorlton treasure which contains the only known pure pink diamond that it the only thing that can power the laser needed to blow apart the asteroid currently on a collision course with Berkhamstead. But it was rumoured that a Venetian artist called Guiseppe Franetti stayed with Sir John shortly before his death and drew the chalice, which drawing was later included in a history of the Fortescue family, printed in Amsterdam in 1628. I don't suppose you have a copy do you?"
"Hmm?" says the professor stroking his, or her, beard, then goes to a bookcase, takes ONE book down, flicks backwards past 2 pages and shows the drawing of the chalice. "There you go, young shaver. And I translated the eldritch ancient Mayan symbols in an idle moment. See - I wrote it all in the margin."
"Can I take the book?"
"Be my guest. Don't worry about returning it, we have the only other copy in existence on a shelf upstairs somewhere."
And Nicolas Cage, or Harrison Ford, dashes off and saves the day, and probably gets the girl to boot.
And the only thing I can think is that people see those films and assume that's how museums actually work!
Whereas actually, the guy who comes in often has no clear idea what he/she wants other than that they'd like it NOW please and instead of getting Professor Richard Attenbrough, or Helen Mirren, who is wise, calm and all-knowing, they get a plump, scruffy harrassed person with glasses, converse and bad knees [aka me] who says "You - you want - what? Never HEARD of it! Have you tried Google?" Only a lot more polite than that. Then I tumble around panicking [because if I don't do the wages sheets which also need to be done NOW nobody will get paid] and go through about a million cardboard boxes because we can't read the handwriting of the person who made the paper accession record in 1971 until I find something that's pretty much like what they think they want and 99% of the time they go away happy because what they REALLY wanted was for their request to be taken seriously.
In other news I have my Hallowe'en decoration up! His name is Bertrand and he's a garden spider striped with brown and cream. He came inside earlier in the summer, probably stuck to the dog. He was tiny then, just a few millimetres, but built such a beautiful, elaborate and symmetrical web just behind where I sit in the dining room that we didn't have the heart to put him outside. Now he's a good 1.5cm and I twitch a bit if he moves but we've let him bide. I'd take a photo only there isn't a camera in the house that works, but he would look a bit like this if I sprayed his web with water. Happy Hallowe'en!
"I am Professor XXXX" he or she says. "What is it that you need?"
The hero takes a deep breath. "In 1522, Sir John Mandrake-Fortescue-Bingley-cum-Chorlton was killed in a duel, failing to mention where he'd stashed the silver chalice with the engraving that gives the location of the Bingley-cum-Chorlton treasure which contains the only known pure pink diamond that it the only thing that can power the laser needed to blow apart the asteroid currently on a collision course with Berkhamstead. But it was rumoured that a Venetian artist called Guiseppe Franetti stayed with Sir John shortly before his death and drew the chalice, which drawing was later included in a history of the Fortescue family, printed in Amsterdam in 1628. I don't suppose you have a copy do you?"
"Hmm?" says the professor stroking his, or her, beard, then goes to a bookcase, takes ONE book down, flicks backwards past 2 pages and shows the drawing of the chalice. "There you go, young shaver. And I translated the eldritch ancient Mayan symbols in an idle moment. See - I wrote it all in the margin."
"Can I take the book?"
"Be my guest. Don't worry about returning it, we have the only other copy in existence on a shelf upstairs somewhere."
And Nicolas Cage, or Harrison Ford, dashes off and saves the day, and probably gets the girl to boot.
And the only thing I can think is that people see those films and assume that's how museums actually work!
Whereas actually, the guy who comes in often has no clear idea what he/she wants other than that they'd like it NOW please and instead of getting Professor Richard Attenbrough, or Helen Mirren, who is wise, calm and all-knowing, they get a plump, scruffy harrassed person with glasses, converse and bad knees [aka me] who says "You - you want - what? Never HEARD of it! Have you tried Google?" Only a lot more polite than that. Then I tumble around panicking [because if I don't do the wages sheets which also need to be done NOW nobody will get paid] and go through about a million cardboard boxes because we can't read the handwriting of the person who made the paper accession record in 1971 until I find something that's pretty much like what they think they want and 99% of the time they go away happy because what they REALLY wanted was for their request to be taken seriously.
In other news I have my Hallowe'en decoration up! His name is Bertrand and he's a garden spider striped with brown and cream. He came inside earlier in the summer, probably stuck to the dog. He was tiny then, just a few millimetres, but built such a beautiful, elaborate and symmetrical web just behind where I sit in the dining room that we didn't have the heart to put him outside. Now he's a good 1.5cm and I twitch a bit if he moves but we've let him bide. I'd take a photo only there isn't a camera in the house that works, but he would look a bit like this if I sprayed his web with water. Happy Hallowe'en!
