[Paleopsych] NYT: Strumming the Mystic Chords of Memory
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Arts > Art & Design > Museum Review: Strumming the Mystic Chords of Memory
http://www.nytimes.com/2005/04/19/arts/design/19roth.html
By [1]EDWARD ROTHSTEIN
SPRINGFIELD, Ill., April 18 - It is not Abraham Lincoln's handwritten
copy of the Gettysburg Address that is getting all the attention here,
nor is it one of his stovepipe hats, still bearing the marks of his
fingers where he regularly reached for its brim. Not even the white
gloves found in his pocket after he was shot by John Wilkes Booth lure
many viewers.
These objects may bear the ghostly traces of Lincoln's touch, but
would a $90 million museum have been built to house them? Would $54
million of that sum have gone to the design firm BRC Imagination Arts
(which describes itself as the creators of "21st-century
experience-based attractions"), if the usual museum display cases were
the main experience being offered? And would such objects have
inspired the fireworks and festivities of this past weekend, let alone
the dedication ceremony scheduled for Tuesday morning, with 10,000
seats set up outdoors and President Bush expected to speak after a
museum tour?
Not likely. Something more is being promised by the new Abraham
Lincoln Presidential Museum, a building designed by Gyo Obata. It is
the centerpiece of a $150 million construction and development project
in downtown Springfield that already includes a $25 million Abraham
Lincoln Presidential Library, housing more 12 million items, 47,000 of
them related to Lincoln. (It is also the depository of the Illinois
State Historical Library.) The complex will eventually have a park and
a renovated 19th-century train station, serving as a parking garage
and visitor orientation center.
Almost a million people visit Lincoln-related sites every year in
Illinois, according to the Convention and Visitor's Bureau in
Springfield; the new research library and museum will become what they
are calling the city's crown jewel.
What is being promised is not just a tourist attraction, but a full
Lincoln Experience. As Richard Norton Smith, the museum's executive
director, said, "If you want to see marble icons, go to Washington."
BRC's founder, Bob Rogers (who once worked at Walt Disney
Imagineering), said the goal was to overturn traditional expectations
and create an "experience museum." "There is nothing we wouldn't do,"
he said in a conversation, "to get people in."
The strategy is hinted at in a magical stage presentation, "Ghosts of
the Library," at which a historian emerges on a set that suggests the
research facility next door. Why should we care about all these old
objects, he asks. But thanks to technological stagecraft, they seem to
come to life as he handles them. A quill pen lifts and writes the
Gettysburg Address in midair. A soldier's diary conjures up a battle.
In the museum, too, historical documents are meant to bring ghostly
history to life. Instead of marble icons posed in Lincolnesque
grandeur surrounded by etched texts, there are fiberglass and silicone
figures inhabiting lifelike dioramas: a young Abe Lincoln reading
Aesop's Fables outside his Indiana log cabin; Lincoln in his general
store in New Salem, Ill.; on a couch courting Mary Todd; in the White
House with the Emancipation Proclamation; at Ford's theater moments
before he was shot.
There is also sound: whispered insults like those hurled at President
Lincoln by editorialists and cartoonists; vituperation hollered at him
by images of actors objecting to the Emancipation Proclamation; voices
of black servants in the White House kitchen discussing the latest
gossip. There is even video, including a mock television studio in
which the newscaster Tim Russert reports on the election of 1860,
complete with campaign commercials.
We are led through a virtual life of sorts. Even locations not far
from the museum are reproduced: the train depot where Lincoln said
farewell as he went off to Washington, the Old State Capitol where his
body was viewed by 75,000 mourners.
The museum literature points out that its goal "is not to fully
explain all of the issues that confronted Lincoln but to inspire in
the visitor a deep sense of personal connection and empathy with the
man."
And indeed, there is something almost eerily lifelike about many of
the museum's figures, which were created using photographs and
computer modeling, to simulate the characters' appearances at
different ages. It is difficult not to sense the trauma in the Mary
Todd Lincoln figure, sitting isolated in a chair by a window after
their son's death in the White House, the raindrops casting shadows on
her face like tears. And one doesn't think of Lincoln in the same way
after seeing photographs of his increasingly worn face displayed in
year-by-year succession during the Civil War. There is also an
astonishing use of technology in a four-minute history of the Civil
War, as an animated map shows the shifting borders, battles and
casualties.
The problem is that some of the museum is history, and some of it is
not. Some of it is "experience," and some of it is true. At a time
when an Academy Award-winning documentary, "Mighty Times: The
Children's March," puts invented historical scenes into its narration
without warning or notice, this museum does something similar. The
words of the insults hurled at Lincoln and the arguments by his
opponents are almost all paraphrased or invented.
The soundtrack of the assassination of Lincoln omits John Wilkes
Booth's declaration from the stage after the murder - "Sic semper
tyrannis," Virginia's motto, meaning "thus always to tyrants" -
because there was concern about whether it would be understood.
The same simplification takes place in the dramatized rhetoric and
arguments of Lincoln's critics. But how then do we begin to appreciate
the glorious rhetoric and pungent argument of Lincoln himself? How do
we understand Lincoln's ideas about slavery, or why the Emancipation
Proclamation affected only the Confederacy and not the four
slave-holding border states that remained in the Union?
And of course, the recent scholarly discussions about Lincoln, some of
which were touched on in a two-day conference that ended Monday at the
next-door library, are not reflected here at all: debates about his
sexuality, about the shifting nature of his religious beliefs, about
his view of civil liberties. Here, Lincoln remains an icon: the
Suffering Servant of the Union, a martyr for the cause of equality.
Complications are shunted aside for a series of psychodramas. Various
exhibition rooms have suggestive psychological titles: "Hall of
Sorrows," "Whispering Gallery," "Illusion Corridor."
Dominating the entrance hall, for example, is a scale model of the
White House portico; and within is seen not Lincoln at work, but Mary
being fitted for a ball dress, surrounded by dresses worn by her
social critics and rivals, the explanatory panel suggesting that for
her, as for her husband, "the White House was a war zone." That may
also be why figures of Booth, Frederick Douglass and Civil War
generals loiter outside the portico. They embody the husband's
battles.
The personal is the political: that seems to be the motto of this life
"experience." And the political becomes personal, represented not by
argument but by shouted insults and condensed formulas, as if the
sound bites of 2005 really resembled the political debates of the
early 1860's.
None of this, of course, undermines the entertainment offered, and it
will be surprising if Springfield does not realize its ambitions: the
museum promises fun, delivered with at least some insight along the
way.
But there is still something serious being undermined. The blurring of
history for the sake of entertainment may not be something new. After
all, the village of New Salem, about a 20-minute drive from
Springfield, was where Lincoln tended store and began his political
career, but the town didn't survive. So in the 1920's and 30's, it was
"reconstructed"; it is an invented historical village.
But the new museum, because of technological power alone, risks making
invention seem like fact. It also enshrines a notion that the best way
to know anything about politics and history is to understand
personality, and even then only in a simplified fashion. Maybe it will
lead to curiosity and further inquiry; maybe not. But it is telling
that by the end of the presentation "Ghosts of the Library," the
historian ends up turning into a ghost himself, and disappears into
thin air.
References
1. http://query.nytimes.com/search/query?ppds=bylL&v1=EDWARD%20ROTHSTEIN&fdq=19960101&td=sysdate&sort=newest&ac=EDWARD%20ROTHSTEIN&inline=nyt-per
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