The new Museum
of History and Industry (MOHAI), at the southern point of Lake Union, is arguably
situated in the heart of Seattle. As a museum dedicated to elucidating this
city’s history and social landscape, the new location is symbolic of the value
this institution can provide to the surrounding communities. The museum’s site,
across the street from the technology offices in South Lake Union and in
proximity to the vibrancy of downtown, is also connected to the sea and sky:
the Center for Wooden Boats can be found to the east, as seaplanes take off and
land from Kenmore Air, the marine airport visible from the café windows.
These connections to technology,
travel, and industry are not to be overlooked, especially as the MOHAI
celebrates a civic history driven by the bold developments made by local firms
like Boeing, Microsoft, and Amazon. The dynamism of the Western pioneer spirit
is celebrated by the architecture, exhibitions, and educational aids provided
by the museum displays and temporary exhibitions.
When visitors approach the building,
they see an armory, originally built in 1942 as the Naval Reserve Building.[1] Although
the architecture still calls to mind that of a military institution, the bright
new paint and bold signage outside speak to its new identity. The words “Museum
of History and Industry” appear high above the front entrance, white text on
cheery marine blue. Large triangular canopies resembling sails connect the
exterior with the city’s history and immediate surroundings. Upon walking through the front doors, one is
greeted by a well-lit lobby decorated with the institution’s list of donors. The
display of names pays respect to the generosity of the institution’s supporters
without being too intrusive. The low lighting and quiet, blue colors in this
display pay tribute to the general humility of Seattle philanthropists.
From this small foyer, visitors move
through a second set of doors, and they are immediately greeted by visitors
services representatives, though it is difficult to move directly to the ticket
counter without stopping to gaze with awe at the tremendous space before you.
Just behind the tickets desk, one can see nearly the entire expanse of the
museum. There are many objects prominently displayed in this atrium, and it is
difficult to look away from the displays in order to purchase tickets for
admission.
It seems that the large atrium takes
up most of the museum’s square footage, and this surplus of public space
impresses visitors and hints at the possibility of a docket complete with a
rich variety of future public programs. This is a successful gesture: as soon
as visitors enter the space, they experience the dynamism and possibility of
the institution, and the building itself speaks to the many places a museum can
be.
Unfortunately, as I began the
process of obtaining my tickets, I found that the MOHAI does not honor the
regular member benefits of American Alliance of Museums institutions. Those who
visit museums regularly may rely on memberships with the AAM in order to obtain
entrance to exhibitions for free or at a discount. Furthermore, most museums
participate in a reciprocal system in which all museum employs are given free
entry to other institutions. It is a gesture of professional goodwill and a
habit to which I have grown accustomed. When I was denied free entry on both
these grounds, it struck me as being a bit peculiar. Why would a museum of
MOHAI’s size and importance not choose to participate in sharing one of the standard
benefits given to members of the national professional museum advocacy
organization? Why would the MOHAI institute an anti-social policy of denying
reciprocal admission? Many history museums across the United States are allied
with the AAM and provide member benefits, including a number in Washington
State, like the Washington State Historical Society in Olympia, the Shoreline
Historical Museum, and the Bainbridge Island Historical Museum.[2]
Although the MOHAI has been accredited by the AAM,[3]
they do not participate in one of its essential programs (the discounted or
free admission), and this oversight seems peculiar, as well as alienating, to a
core audience—the avid and enthusiastic museum visitor.
Upon moving past the ticket desk,
visitors can fully appreciate the open space of the MOHAI atrium and the
objects displayed within. Most viewers will be awestruck by a 65-foot tall
sculpture by John Grade that has been constructed from readapted planks from a
retired schooner, which once sailed Lake Union. Across from this tree-like
installation, visitors find a wall of local Seattle icons, including Ivar’s
clam mascot on a unicycle, the big, red “R” from the Rainier Brewery, and
enlarged versions of historic postcard views. A vintage Boeing airmail plane
soars above, taking advantage of the 65-foot high ceilings. One most given
days, visitors can be found standing in front of this wall of Seattle
artifacts, and they often talk to those around them about the personal
childhood memories associated with these objects. Interactivity is also
encouraged by a series of cranks adjacent to the corresponding labels. These
cranks cause the objects to move, animating the entire display.
The MOHAI atrium may overwhelm some
visitors, simply because it is such a huge space with many large objects
displayed within. For these guests, a series of four towers provide respite, as
well as smaller, focused exhibition spaces. These towers stretch from the
entrance hall up to the galleries on the second floor, and these intimate,
round spaces provide the opportunity for focused visitor interaction.
After exploring all the exhibits
that are available on the ground floor, visitors may want to seek out the
permanent exhibitions. However, there is no clear signage directing guests to
the galleries upstairs. A large, open-style steel staircase leads upstairs, and
although exhibits can be clearly seen from the downstairs atrium, there is no
clear signage or invitation telling visitors where to go or what they might
find.
Once visitors walk up the stairs
(guided in this direction by intuition and curiosity alone), they may not know where
to turn. A door to the left seems to invited visitors into an exhibition about
Native American heritage and nature, while visitors who look to the right see
interesting displays and hear loud, happy music coming from a door in the other
direction. This lack of clarity can be troubling, as the upstairs MOHAI
exhibits actually function in a chronological order. Visitors who choose to
walk to the right might later be troubled to find that they skipped the introductory
portion of a logical, historical explanation of the city’s origins,
specifically with regards to Seattle’s natural and native beginnings. However,
if visitors choose the “correct” route, they are greeted by an introductory
panel for the permanent exhibition about the lives of early Native Americans in
the Puget Sound area.
Most of the museum’s second level is
dedicated to a roughly chronological exploration of Seattle’s history. The
twenty-five sections are grouped together as a permanent exhibition titled True Northwest: The Seattle Journey. This
exhibit winds around the entire second floor, and in each section, visitors
learn about how Seattle transitioned from being a place of native forests and
indigenous populations to a global, modern city. The exhibition is paced rather
quickly, and it is easy to feel overwhelmed by the scale of the installations
and the sheer amount of information available to digest. Each display is
unique, with each historical environment given appropriate and individual
stylistic treatments. Each area has a different graphic identity, as well as
unique wall colors and display methods, so visitors are constantly aware of the
changing space and shifting timeline. While the larger design concept for the museum
project fell under the aegis of LMN Architects, some individual pieces of the
permanent exhibition displays were contracted out to smaller design firms, and
this choice feels very obvious when moving around the spaces: many different
colors, styles, educational approaches, display methods and graphic elements
are used throughout the permanent exhibits, though this variety actually
enlivens the installation, and the constant change keeps visitors engaged,
alert, and curious.
Once visitors enter the first exhibition
space, they find a narrow entry bathed in low lighting, forest green walls, and
displays of native Northwest flora. Native American daily life is portrayed in
a sensitive exhibition, though its methods feel relatively conservative when
compared with the scale and materials of the atrium. The carpet is of the
industrial grey variety, and the display cases are laid out in a traditional
manner. In the first room, Native American artifacts can be found in display
cases along the walls, and the object labels are relatively simple and clear.
However, MOHAI soon departs from these traditional exhibition techniques. As
visitors turn the next corner and enter the next exhibition space, the room
seems to suddenly open. Light pours in through large windows, and interactive
displays speak and move. In the second room, visitors are invited to play with
an interactive animation on a computer screen that teaches about Chinook jargon. While there are
interactive computer terminals spread throughout the MOHAI exhibits encouraging
user engagement, this particular monitor was especially impressive: the display
can be raised and lowered according to a visitor’s height, increasing access
for smaller people, children, and guests in wheelchairs. The same display also
accommodates much taller museum patrons. The handle, seen on the bottom of the
screen, can be used to guide the display up and down along a vertical rail.
This kind of thoughtful approach to accessibility
can also be seen in another interactive display, which can be found in a
section of the exhibition dedicated to the Klondike Gold Rush. In the center of
the room stand two antique-style slot machines, back to back. Visitors can pull
a lever to reveal three images, casino-style, and the images correspond to unique
anecdotes from people’s experiences during the Gold Rush, giving MOHAI visitors
the opportunity to experience the full variety of the possibilities offered by
Seattle when it was a city of western pioneers. The two slot machines stand at drastically different
heights, with one machine situated at eye-level for an average adult, while the
second machine is at eye-level for a child or person in a wheelchair. No
interactive exhibit seems to have been made without attention to the necessary
details of accessibility.
Perhaps the most memorable part of
the permanent historical exhibit is a room dedicated to the massive Seattle
fire of 1889, an inferno that wiped out about thirty blocks of the city’s historic
downtown. MOHAI tells the story of the fire in an interactive sound, video, and
light program, which runs every fifteen minutes. Not only does the exhibit
engage visitors, but it also engages with itself, though a smart use of
lighting effects and historic artifacts. After reading about the Gold Rush and
the construction of western railroads, visitors are guided back towards the
large atrium and the walkway around its perimeter on the second level. They are
then guided past recreations of historic nineteenth-century shop windows
towards a small theater, and a sign at the door lets viewers know when the next
Great Fire show is due to begin. A friendly docent let me know that although
the show had just begun, I should walk inside and sit down, as only a minute or
two of the program had elapsed.
The small theater is shaped like a
rectangle, with a few simple benches placed along the back wall, facing a
screen, a mural, and a selection of objects in individual glass cases. These
individual glass cases, containing artifacts from the Great Fire, can actually
be spotted on each of the room’s four walls, and visitors can see dolls,
firefighter uniforms, melted plates and marbles, and the glue pot that started
the fire. The walls are lined with charred wood, and fire hoses stretch across
the front of the room. A large mural depicting the Great Fire can be seen
behind the screen in the front of the room, and a brilliantly funny, and catchy
song plays along with images of the fire and its aftermath. Through an
intelligent use of light, voice, and sound, the artifacts in the exhibit also
seem to sing along, chiming in about the circumstances of the fire, the causes
for the raging inferno, and the rapid reconstruction of the city in the fire’s
wake.
The entire story of the Great Fire is
told in song, and as part of the story is sung, a moving spotlight illuminates a
specific artifact, giving one the impression that each object is joining in the
chorus. The words to the song are displayed on the screen in a sing-along
style, and as the words are sung, a little image bounces along so visitors can
join in. The invitation to sing about Seattle’s history seems to be appreciated
by MOHAI patrons, and after watching the film a few times, I had the impression
that most groups feel comfortable somewhat engaging and participating in the
activity. The bouncing icons on the screen correspond to the item currently
“singing,” guiding viewers’ attention. When the glue pot sings, a little image
of a glue pot bounces across the screen in line with the lyrics, while the
actual glue pot that started the fire is lit up under a spotlight in front of
the screen. The story of the fire is told with whimsy and humor, and the song is
incredibly catchy. Exhibition designers at the MOHAI, and the contracted design
and animation firms, were mindful of the fact that this terrible tragedy led to
civic progress and revitalization, and the film performance leaves viewers
feeling proud of their city and its spiritedness.
This thoughtful approach to
accessibility and interactivity carries throughout all twenty-five sections of True Northwest: The Seattle Journey. In
addition to being interactive, inviting, and appropriate for all ages, the permanent
exhibition also provides a balanced and fair perspective on the city’s history.
The displays do not gloss over difficult periods in civic affairs or shameful
decisions made by Seattle’s founders. For example, many sections of the
permanent collection displays address periods of bigotry, racism, and harm
inflicted upon specific ethnic groups. For example, in a room dedicated to the
history of the railroad’s westward expansion, a family-oriented interactive
hammering game shares the space with a display case dedicated to the story of
the exploited Chinese laborers who participated in railroad construction. Significant
attention is also given to the anti-Chinese riots of 1886, when many Chinese
residents were rounded up and forced to leave the city—an event that did not transpire
without incurring physical violence.
The MOHAI exhibits also don’t shy
away from the unsavory details of the story of Japanese internment and the
darker moments experienced by Japanese Seattleites in the WWII era. While the museum
could have glossed over this difficult subject, it is addressed rather
candidly. The inclusion of this part of the Seattle story is finally redeemed
at the end of the chronological tour, where visitors encounter a life-sized
mannequin dressed in a beautiful red kimono. The costume was gifted to MOHAI by
the city of Kyoto in 1952 as a gesture of forgiveness and friendship, and its
prominent display is a testament to the museum’s thoughtful and balanced
perspective.
In addition to acknowledging the trials
and tribulations experienced by citizens of Asian descent, True Northwest: The Seattle Journey also addresses larger issues of
sexism, racism, and labor unrest. It is a bold move on the museum’s part, and a
gesture of which only a truly thoughtful civic institution is capable. A
similar energy can be found in other difficult subjects, which were prominently
featured in the displays. Objects and labels present viewers with fair and
honest information about the WTO protests, the struggles of local indigenous
groups, and Washington’s House Un-American Activities Committee and its attack
on professors at the University of Washington in the mid-1950s. These exhibits
present a blemished, balanced, an accurate portrait of a pioneer city and
modern epicenter of global commerce.
MOHAI is, generally, an
incredibly successful museum project. It is a welcoming environment, with a
sensitive, intelligent, and balanced approach to its wealth of interactive and
educational displays. All visitors, regardless of age, ethnicity, gender, or
physical ability, should feel welcomed.
[1] LMN Architects, http://lmnarchitects.com/work/museum_of_history_and_industry
(Accessed May 4, 2013).
[2] AAM Museum Admission Benefit
data, July 7, 2012.
[3] AAM List of Accredited Museums,
April 2013.
