A Glimmer of Grace in an Unforgiving Environment

Year: 1924
Material: wood, stone, plaster
Creator: Designed by architectural firm, built by inmates
Collection: Alfred W. Fleischer Memorial Synagogue

It seems likely that the Memorial Synagogue is a favorite exhibit for many who visit Eastern State Penitentiary. Al Capone's cell may be more of a spectacle, the isolation cells may resonate deeper with our deepest fears, and the art installations may broaden our perspective on modern prison issues. But in a literal and metaphorical unrelentingly dark space and history, the synagogue reveals an unexpected bright spot of hope.

Jewish inmates were always in the minority at the Penitentiary, yet as early as the first half of the 19th century, rabbis and other volunteers of the judaic faith from outside the prison walls provided them spiritual support. Fleischer, President of the Board of Trustees of the ESP from 1924-1928, was instrumental in founding the Synagogue, and numerous community members added their help to complete it.

After falling into disrepair and near ruin, the site was excavated and restored in 2008 and 2009. The Penitentiary was able to reinstate most of the ark, the benches, and the reading table, and recreated most of the plaster and lighting. It still has the feeling of a sacred and peaceful place that is further interpreted next door, where a former exercise room is full of stories of both the Synagogue and life for Jewish inmates.

This adjoining room is well laid out and very informative, but it may be beneficial to include more interactive elements. It may also be valuable to include information on Judaism in Philadelphia, so that visitors can gain even further perspective on both the prisoners and those who volunteered to help them.

It is difficult to think of someone who would not appreciate this space. Whether Jewish, Catholic, Hindu or atheist, visitors can see the Synagogue as a place that fostered mercy, hope and faith in a much more depressing surrounding environment. The restoration of the room can be seen as mirroring the invincibility of those qualities, and a testament to the complexity and compassion of mankind.

Burning Bright

Collection: Big Cats

The Amur tigers, better known as Siberian tigers, are hard to miss at the Philadelphia Zoo. Housed among other large cats, their outdoor habitat includes a grassy area, a few trees, a pool, and two watching areas. There were two tigers on view last Wednesday afternoon. They were not particularly playful or interactive, and visitors had the feeling that they were the ones being observed. Unlike the other items reviewed in this blog, this one is alive, and has many needs. Thus, the exhibit's main priority is fulfilling these needs, while connecting to its audience is a close second.

There are two primary and connected reasons why this particular species is on display. In once sense, they embody everything that a prototypical (and traditional) zoo would have: something large, exotic, beautiful, and dangerous. For the last couple of centuries, zoos brought in the multitudes with their tigers, lions, and polar bears -- not their rats or lizards.

On the other hand, Amur tigers are in danger of extinction. While it may be difficult to get visitors to care about the survival of the endangered jerboa, a nocturnal rodent that is difficult to display, they would have a hard time looking at such a universally acknowledged majestic animal such as these tigers and not want to help the species live on. By prodding visitors into this stewardship mode, the zoo helps to ensure the survival of many animals, jerboa included.

I think that the zoo could encourage further thought on each animal by approaching it in different ways. It would be interesting to see how the audience would react to the history of how societies have interacted with the Amur tiger. Would they look differently at it knowing that a Siberian tribe called it "Grandfather" and considered it a near-deity? How has the decimation of species affected its natural habitat, and has that changed the way neighboring humans have lived. Many have heard William Blake's "Tyger! Tyger!" poem, but how many have had a chance to read or hear it while actually being able to observe a tiger?

In some ways, a tiger exhibit is an easy choice for an exhibit that guarantees to bring visitors to the zoo. They may expect to come and stare at the animals, reliving childhood experiences and passing them down to other generations. But why not shake up that concept a bit more, and really challenge the way visitors, new and old, interact with the animals?

An Image of Childhood

Year: 1905
Material: Painted wood
Creator: Unknown
Collection: Stuga collection

The Stuga (farmhouse) Room in the American Swedish Historical Museum does an excellent job at contextualizing all of its objects. But while the size of the giant loom and grandfather clock make them highlights of the room, this little "Dala horse" can get lost in the crowd. This is unfortunate, because it must be of particular interest to children, artists, and anyone who feels nostalgia for their childhood.

The label explains that Dala horses were popular 19th century toys in Sweden. Carved from wood, they were often created during the long, snowy winters. Clockmakers were especially known for their Dala horse designs, and their journeys across the country helped spread the trend.

While its placement in the Stuga adds detail to the overall exhibit, it may be interesting to display the Dala horse with other Swedish toys and children's clothing of the time. Not only would this particular object stand out more, but the museum may benefit from an exhibit that relates specifically to children. Using history and sociology to discuss the role of both Swedish and Swedish-American children could flesh out the content.

To make this hypothetical exhibit more immersive, the curator could add an account of a clockmaker who made Dala horses, or of a child who played with one. This would further enforce the idea that this object, behind glass today, was once lovingly played with.

Spectacle and Boredom, Pain and Grace: Degas's favorite paradox

Year: 1880

Material: Oil on canvas

Creator: Edgar Degas 

Collection: European Art 1850 - 1900

The Ballet Class, one of Degas's many works that captures a less-than-glamorous moment in the world of ballet, sits in a gallery full of Impressionism. It is an excellent example of this school of art, and complements both the other works of Degas in the gallery, and those of his contemporaries.

Anyone interested in this style would enjoy studying the painting. I imaging that many visitors would stop to glance at it, because the style, the artist, and the subject matter are familiar to many, and widely accepted as "good art." The majority of these people, however, think of Degas's ballerinas as simply pretty, and miss the realism (and the refusal to lapse into romanticizing) these types of scenes.

Although there are no more Degas works in sight while standing before this particular painting, there are a few around the corner, in a connecting room. If a visitor is thorough, he or she would be able to view and compare all of his works on display.

The label begins to touch on the culture of the ballet dancer by describing the scene: the dancers practicing in the background, the mother waiting in the foreground. It also mentions the long and arduous career of the dancers. But I believe that the exhibit missed an opportunity explaining why Degas found this subject matter so fascinating.

The ballerinas, despite their back-breaking hard work, belonged more to the demimonde than to polite society, and one of their goals was to find a wealthy patron, or caretaker. Ballet mothers in 1880s Paris could be compared to modern pageant mothers, micromanaging their young daughters' careers. Explaining a bit more of this history would enlighten the viewer, and some personal accounts of the time, whether of dancer, mother, or teacher, would be especially illuminating.

Furthermore, by juxtaposing Degas's rehearsal and backstage scenes with performance scenes in the same space would show how he was enamored with this contrast: the beauty and showmanship of the performance and the exhaustion and repetition of rehearsal.