Makeup Museum (MM) Musings is a series that examines a broad range of museum topics as they relate to the preservation, research and exhibition of cosmetics, along with my vision for a physical Makeup Museum. These posts help me think through how I’d run things if the Museum had more resources or occupied a physical public space, as well as examine the ways it’s currently functioning.
In 2024, the Makeup Museum’s 15th year, I did a significant amount of reflecting. I especially wanted to dig deeper into how the Makeup Museum can participate in creating social change. This is an incredibly broad topic so it will be broken into several sections that relate to social justice. Picking up where volume 29 of MM Musings left off, volume 30 will explore the idea of what I’m calling problematic objects – those pieces with clearly racist, colonial or otherwise offensive characteristics. The exhibition of these objects is part of the larger topic of decolonization of museums, which will be discussed in detail in a later MM Musings post. For this installment, however, it seems prudent to focus on just one way in which the modern museum can work towards decolonization (spoiler: I don’t believe it’s possible for many museums, the Makeup Museum included, to ever be fully decolonized.)
As I mentioned in the follow-up post on cultural appropriation, nearly every single brand is problematic if you look closely enough. Even if they appear innocuous on the surface, all modern makeup is inherently the product of an ugly industry rooted in racism, labor exploitation, animal testing, and a tremendous disregard for the environment; it was not created with anything except profit in mind, harmful outcomes be damned. In her book The Ugly History of Beautiful Things, Katy Kelleher describes the history of dangerous beauty treatments (lead face paint, belladonna eye drops, toxic lash tints, etc.) and how the desire to obtain physical beauty through makeup remains unchanged today, with many women feeling like they have no choice but to purchase and use makeup. “Makeup is a way to dominate one’s own body, molding it into shape so that its form better coincides with the beauty standards of the time…makeup can have serious benefits and terrifying consequences; it can help you land a job and it can give you cancer…any risk, even the risk of physical harm, tends to feel ‘worth it’. Because physical beauty is valued so highly, people are often willing to set aside their own discomfort in order to achieve this state.” Kelleher also includes a rather poignant quote from American author Ursula K. LeGuin, who said, “I resent the beauty game when I see it controlled by people who grab fortunes from it and don’t care who they hurt. I hate it when I see it making people so self-dissatisfied that they starve and deform and poison themselves.”
Given the larger issue of how the industry was built, its continued perpetuation of beauty standards and significant contribution to climate change, can there really be any makeup objects that aren’t problematic? Can we separate makeup from the industry and beauty standards? In reading two recent books on a similar topic – separating art from the artist – I don’t think it’s possible to fully untangle makeup from the industry that produces it. And it’s not clear what separating the art from artist actually means; in reading both Erich Hatala Matthes’s Drawing the Line and Claire Dederer’s Monsters: A Fan’s Dilemma, I believe separating means enjoying the work of the artist and largely ignoring all the horrible things they’ve done. I’ve concluded that generally speaking, it’s impossible at the organizational level to separate makeup from the industry and standards that produce it. So now what? How does a museum educator or curator decide what to collect and display, and how? Should museums even exist, especially one dedicated to something as fraught as makeup? Most experts agree that museums should continue existing, but must completely reframe their collections and institutional histories to reveal the truth behind them. They must be honest in how their collections came to be, and add context to some of the pieces. And for some museums, repatriation of objects belonging to cultures outside of their own is necessary.
Obviously I don’t think the Makeup Museum should cease existing or collecting, even though makeup will always be historically rooted in negative things. There is a positive side to it; makeup history and contemporary makeup culture intertwine with many other areas of history and research and can teach us so much. Plus, makeup provides a very accessible outlet for creative and artistic expression, and can also contribute towards gender affirmation. Along those lines, it doesn’t mean we can’t personally enjoy makeup or that enjoying it makes us bad people. When I’m applying makeup, I’m actually able to ignore the problematic aspects of it because the joy of color and texture overtakes my knowledge. In that sense I am able to separate art from artist, and I think most of us are able to do the same. (Also, think about those who make a living off of applying makeup professionally – I do not believe they are immoral for creating art.) Dederer’s main argument is that art is highly subjective and personal/emotional. Most would not consider makeup and its brands to be art, so it might be misguided to use Dederer’s outlook here. But the Makeup Museum’s entire premise is that makeup is art, and most people have a personal connection to makeup, so I think her argument is relevant here. However, while most of us are personally able to separate makeup from its roots, it’s disingenuous and insensitive for a museum to do so. There is a responsibility for a nonprofit organization dedicated to educating the public to acknowledge the negative aspects surrounding makeup. Thus, maintaining the Makeup Museum raises the question of what to collect and how to display it. I spend a considerable amount of time debating whether to acquire racist or otherwise problematic objects and if I do, I’m unsure as if or how to present them. Ditto for sharing histories or profiles of not-so-great brands or people.
Ultimately I think problematic topics and objects should be shared. I believe museums have an obligation to educate and tell a complete story, and part of that is confronting uncomfortable truths. History should not be sanitized. Says Leah Huff, a graduate of the University of Washington, “It is important for us to be critical museum visitors who question how artifacts and pieces are acquired and why certain stories are told or forgotten. Visiting museums and memory institutions requires us to be critical of the narratives that are presented…[Museums] should emphasize truth-telling as opposed to presenting a white-washed version of history. The process of truth-telling involves speaking the truths about colonialism. Museums should not present narratives that glorify the age of exploration. Rather, they should show the consequences of Western expansion, colonialism, and imperialism.”
Artist and activist Michelle Hartney, who added her own labels to the walls of the Metropolitan Museum of Art as part of her Correct Art History performance piece, agrees. “We need these works of art to remain in museums so we can learn from them,” she said. “Educating and presenting the truth is how we learn and do better; this information would be a powerful educational moment because it will show how long the patriarchy has ruled over women…In my opinion, the institution is not acting in accordance with their ‘profession’s highest ethical standards and practices’ when they knowingly eliminate negative narratives from an artist’s legacy, often using the excuse that it distracts from the art and can change a viewer’s experience with the art.”
Matthes also agrees that problematic art and artists should not be “canceled” by being removed from public view.* He also points out the danger of glorifying or honoring certain artists by allowing solo exhibitions that do not address their pasts.
Now that we’ve concluded the negative aspects or background of particular artwork or artists should be displayed, how should museums go about doing that?
Critic Candy Bedworth, writing for Daily Art Magazine, states: “Hold to account all the galleries, museums, curators, collectors, art historians, and inheritors of artists’ multi-million-dollar estates who prop up the systems of oppression and refuse to hear the voice of the victim. These people must set the work in context.” In other words, contextualize the object in a way that focuses as much as, if not more, on the oppressed rather than the oppressor. The Independent broke down one example in the British Museum (might not be the best museum to use as the British Museum is a leader in problematic practices, but this particular case is enlightening). The bust of noted enslaver Hans Sloane now has an updated label that discusses his role in the UK’s history of slavery and colonialism, and displays it alongside other objects that call attention to Black history rather than simply lingering on the colonialism and racism. In this way a useful dialogue can be created. “Sloane’s bust will be exhibited alongside objects, situating it against a backdrop of the British Empire and slavery. The Museum’s website already reflects this, providing information on its founder’s links with slavery. This kind of contextualisation will help us to understand the role the UK has played in both the slave economy and colonialism, where simply cancelling the object would not…[The] focus here isn’t on retaining Eurocentric history – it’s on retaining the Black history intertwined with it. If we throw such objects out with the trash, there’s a risk that we won’t remember the shameful parts of British history in years to come, or the lives of those slaves employed by Sloane and his wife…[We] should use the potential offensiveness of artefacts to create dialogue. If we retain such objects, but make it known that they emerged from this context of discrimination and injustice, we won’t inadvertently cause more damage in our attempts to mitigate history.”
Using a vintage tube of blackface as a Makeup Museum example, perhaps one way to reframe or recontextualize it would be to show it next to an object that, while equally problematic on the surface, could actually serve to demonstrate how the Black community is highlighting the inequities in the makeup industry. In the spring of 2024, Youthforia launched new shades of its best-selling foundation after customers requested a wider range for dark skin. However, the deepest shade was nothing more than jet black paint. My mind immediately jumped to blackface and how a company in this day and age could be so clueless about the past. Fortunately, consumers were quick to call out the company, with beauty influencer Golloria leading the way. Swatching the foundation on one side of her face and the other with regular black paint, she gave a first-hand demonstration of what an incredible miss this was. While blackface was theatrical makeup historically used by white performers and has little to do with commercial makeup intended for deep skin tones, there is definitely a parallel here. Maybe showing these objects alongside each other could educate about both the history of blackface and efforts to ensure that companies today don’t reference it.
It seems like a relatively simple solution: make certain that object and exhibition labels provide adequate information on their problematic aspects, and present the objects in a way that does not glorify or condone them and instead open a dialogue. But a bigger question remains: where to draw the line? I won’t purchase anything from Jeffree Star’s brand, but I’m still buying Chanel, a company whose founder was a Nazi sympathizer (and the fact that the company still has not acknowledged that is troubling). Why do I think it’s permissible to blog about something like Tattoo, but I don’t feel right discussing Max Factor’s Pan-Stik in the shade “Chinese” that I bought last year? What are the boundaries of acquisition and display? Writes Dederer: “I wished someone would invent an online calculator — the user would enter the name of an artist, whereupon the calculator would assess the heinousness of the crime versus the greatness of the art and spit out a verdict,” Dederer writes. Similarly, I wish a calculator existed for the Makeup Museum. How “bad” is an object or person, and does their cultural or historical importance outweigh their awfulness? Unfortunately, Dederer states that “a calculator is laughable, unthinkable.”
Thus, there is no neat and tidy answer. Matthes and Dederer both conclude that it’s up to the individual in terms of what art and media to consume. Everyone has their own limits and reasons, and I can’t explain what mine are for the Makeup Museum. Perhaps it’s how overt the offensiveness is, but even that can be subjective. Perhaps it’s how much backlash from the public the museum would receive for purchasing particular brands or bringing up certain histories, even if I provided a thorough explanation as to why the object was acquired or the history was told in a sensitive, nuanced way. I strongly dislike confrontation and am very thin-skinned, so I would be very upset to receive nasty comments or lose support over something I bought or a topic was not explained as well as it could be. Most of all though, it’s the fact that I don’t want to inflict emotional distraught among BIPOC museum visitors or visitors from other marginalized groups. I imagine that a general discussion of cultural appropriation causes less pain than the aforementioned tube of blackface, but again, this is my own perspective – I can’t speak for the Black community. I must remember that while it’s not my goal to upset anyone, it’s about impact, not intention. So even if I did not mean to offend, it might still happen.
We’ve established that in order to provide a comprehensive account of makeup history, the bad needs to be presented along with the good. And we can do that through adding context and information. But how can a museum accomplish that without inflicting pain?
There are some museums where horrific histories and objects are not unexpected, such as the Holocaust Museum in DC or the Maryland Lynching Memorial Project. These are quite obviously upsetting, but people can decide in advance whether they want to visit – given the museums’ names, visitors have some idea of what’s on display and can make a relatively informed decision whether to go based on their personal histories and emotional threshold. But in the case of the Makeup Museum, people may be caught off guard and possibly upset. I’m assuming visitors would not be thrilled to view, say, a whimsical lipstick case shaped like the Leaning Tower of Pisa next to a 1960s Halloween makeup kit featuring a range of racist stereotypes. It would incur a bit of whiplash, I would think. One way to handle this is to offer content warnings. I’ve put up a blanket statement on the Museum’s main collection page and will add warnings for exhibitions and blog posts that warrant them moving forward. And I would have to speak with the Museum’s web designer, but I bet there’s a way to blur certain photos and people can choose whether to view them. In terms of a physical space, the object would be on display but not quite so prominently (so as not seem as though the museum is honoring it), and there could be a warning posted before one enters the gallery.
But I don’t know whether all of these efforts are enough, or even which objects or topics deserve these protocols. Because of my own bias, something I perceive as fairly innocuous and not requiring a content warning might be devastating to another viewer. The issues of individual relationships to art, personal histories and subjective reactions are again raised. Also, there is a pitfall of showing problematic objects by themselves: even if a curator adds historical information and tries to recontextualize them by displaying alongside other objects, they inadvertently may be portraying the entire history of a certain group as nothing more than trauma. In her book The Whole Picture, art historian Alice Procter brings up the example of a sculpture carved by a member of the Haida people in the British Museum (I know, I know, not again – but it’s a good example). It is the only work by a Haida artist in the museum’s collection, and depicts a violent physical assault on a Haida woman. Not much else is known about the sculpture. Having this on display by itself and with no other context, Procter says, may actually reduce the tribe’s history to the violence they experienced. “[If] there is no commentary around how unique this object is, or context for the attack as part of the colonial history of Canada, the focus is exclusively on the act of the attack. The danger is that Haida culture ends up being presented as characterized by sexual violence.” People are more than their experiences of genocide and other horrors. So going back to our example of vintage blackface and Youthforia’s disastrous foundation, even though additional context would be provided for both and a dialogue opened between both the objects themselves and the audience, is that the best way to present these objects? Would it be less harmful to show these alongside something more positive, such as objects by Fenty?
The bottom line is that object interpretation and display will always pose a conundrum for the Makeup Museum. Many beauty standards are entrenched in white supremacy, and makeup, in part, still serves to meet those standards. As noted earlier, the modern industry was founded on many systemic injustices and continues contributing significantly to climate change and other harmful things. Even makeup that was not created by the industry, i.e. cosmetic objects made by Indigenous peoples, present a problem in that there is debate over whether these belong in white-founded and operated organizations. There are also varying degrees of “badness” and those are fairly subjective. What is off-limits to me to acquire or discuss may not be to another and vice versa. But none of this means the Makeup Museum shouldn’t exist, that it should stop collecting, or that what has been and currently being collected isn’t important. What it does mean is that it’s important to educate people about makeup’s toxic past and present without causing trauma, or at least, as little as possible, and center the perspective of marginalized groups as much as possible. It also means getting feedback on the Museum’s collection and display practices, developing a collections plan and code of values, and revisiting this post on ethics.
Have you ever been offended by or upset at something you viewed in a museum? How do you think the Makeup Museum can present objects that are particularly problematic?
*The removal of problematic statues and monuments in public spaces seems to be an exception to this approach. I think a rather genius solution lies in the Museum of Toxic Statues in Berlin.
Makeup Museum (MM) Musings is a series that examines a broad range of museum topics as they relate to the preservation, research and exhibition of cosmetics, along with my vision for a physical Makeup Museum. These posts help me think through how I'd run things if the Museum occupied a physical public space, as well as examine the ways it's currently functioning. I also hope that these posts make everyone see that just because the Makeup Museum does not have a physical space or official nonprofit designation, it is as valid as other museums, and more legitimate than many other profit-driven entities calling themselves "museums".
Let me just say up front that the timing of this post has nothing to do with the Capitol insurrection that took place a few weeks ago, or the fact that Black History Month starts in two days. This is something that's been in the works for over a year, as it's extremely important to the Museum's mission and to me personally. After giving myself a crash course in diversity and inclusion, I feel as though I'm finally ready to write something a little more in-depth than the thoughts I jotted down back in June 2020. One of the Museum's primary goals is to present makeup and its history differently than what currently exists, and a big part of that is sharing previously undiscovered or underrepresented stories. So many of them concern BIPOC and LGBTQ+ histories, and it's important to tell them not just for diversity's sake but for history more generally.
This post will not go into detail regarding the obvious facts that 1. Despite good intentions, all museums are rooted in colonialism; 2. U.S. museums have a critical diversityproblem; and 3. Diverse and inclusive museums are better in every way than non-inclusive spaces. Instead, it seeks to answer the following question: How can the Makeup Museum, in its current state, be as diverse and inclusive as possible? I don't have all the answers, but MM Musings are an exercise to think through the heavier issues and ponder how the Museum can be better – more of a journey than an endpoint. To help guide this installment of MM Musings I relied on these two books, along with the anti-racism books I purchased last year. I also looked at all the articles and other resourcesI could access for free online.
As I noted previously, there are unique challenges for a cosmetics museum to become a diverse and inclusive space. But that doesn't mean there's not room for improvement. If the Museum occupied a physical space and had paid employees (well-paid and with full benefits, of course, and while I hope they would not have a need for a union, they would absolutely be encouraged to form one if they want), it would no doubt have a diverse boardand staff at all levels that would be treated as integral to the organization and not tokens, along with the other essentials such as diversity training for docents and consultants to continually evaluate the Museum's efforts and provide recommendations. In its current form, however, the primary focus in terms of diversity and inclusion is on the Museum's content and collection. Since there are no blueprints as to how to run an online cosmetics museum/blog whose existence and finances depend entirely on one person who is also not technically a museum professional, it's tricky to come up with a concrete plan of action for diversity and inclusion. But here's a start.
Diversify the collection.
Collecting Chinese, Japanese and Korean brands are not an issue, nor are ones founded or owned by LGBTQ+ people – there are plenty of those as well as artist/fashion collaborations – but Latinx and Indigenous brands and collabs remain somewhat elusive. I can write about my beloved Pai Pai but they no longer ship to the U.S., and I know of only a handful of other Latinx or Indigenous-owned brands. Contemporary Black-owned brands are easier to find than ever now so I will continue purchasing more from them, but it's still difficult to find many vintage pieces simply because there were so few compared to the big mainstream brands, none of which catered to BIPOC's needs until the 1960s or so (and even then their efforts continued to miss the mark.) I will continue to keep my eyes peeled and buy from BIPOC and LGBTQ+ brands as much as possible.
Diversify blog, IG and exhibition content.
The Museum's collection may not be diverse enough right now, but that doesn't mean I can't write about objects or other pieces of makeup history related to BIPOC and LGBTQ+ communities, along with topics centered on ageism within the industry and people with disabilities. There are so many that are either have not been fully explored or not mentioned at all. One stumbling block remains: namely, I'm still not sure they're stories appropriate for a white, able-bodied, cis-het woman to tell. This is particularly important when discussing makeup used by Indigenous people, as in some cases it has a spiritual or religious purpose rather than beautification or self-expression. I'm afraid I don't have a solution other than to forge ahead and write about topics that may not be 100% appropriate but that are important. I think as long as I'm treating them in a sensitive manner and open to feedback and constructive criticism, it's better to share these histories even if they're from a non-BIPOC/LGBTQ+ person. One thing I eventually learned last summer was that being totally silent and not even attempting to diversify content is worse than trying and getting it wrong. I only hope I don't inflict any harm, but if I do, then I can always remove the post and do better the next time.
Search for more BIPOC and LGBTQ+ artists and brands to feature on Instagram and in Color Connections.
Exhibitions: How are BIPOC and LGBTQ+ represented in exhibitions? If they're not adequately represented, why? The solutions to this would normally be to have an exhibition that thoroughly incorporates diverse objects and voices, or have one focused on BIPOC and LGBTQ+ themes and ensure appropriate curation and oversight, e.g. not hiring someone who doesn't belong to those groups or has little to no knowledge about the topic at hand. This is a hurdle for the Makeup Museum as the founder and sole curator is not from an underrepresented group. The only thing I can do at the moment is choose exhibition topics in which marginalized people have adequate representation and make sure they see themselves in the exhibitions. It must be obvious that they're not niche visitors and that they are essential to the story the exhibition is telling. Theoretically I could explore whether anyone would be interested in co-curating or guest curating an exhibition focused on BIPOC or LGBTQ+, but as the Museum is entirely a labor of love and I'm unable to provide compensation, I'm sure as hell not asking someone from a marginalized group to curate or write for free. That brings me to my next point.
Identify fees for guest writers, curators and consultants and see if they are feasible without drastically cutting the budget for new acquisitions.
Like most of the initiatives I would love to pursue such as overhauling the website ($10-20k), purchasing archival storage containers ($1-2k), establishing a nonprofit (about $2-4k), getting a degree in museum or curatorial studies ($50k minimum) and purchasing and maintaining proper collections management software ($2k per year), I fear I would never be able to afford to hire professionals to work on the Museum with me even if I never bought another object, but it can't hurt to at least ask what their fees are. And who knows, perhaps I could even work out a plan whereby payments are due in installments rather than the full sum up front.
Further develop a community-focused, collaborative mindset.
Since its inception the Museum has operated in a mostly isolated environment. I'm not only a hardcore introvert and lifelong loner, but I always wanted to have my own space, something that I had full control over and without the involvement of anyone else. And that impulse is still quite strong. But I've also always wanted to educate, and though I'm not comfortable with it, being a resource means inviting people to help create it: by the public, for the public. Community for the Museum largely means either makeup aficionados/professionals or the local geographic area. I've always asked blog visitors to respond to my posts, and starting with the Stila girls exhibition in 2019, I began asking visitors to submit memories, photos or anything else they'd like to share to be incorporated into the exhibition. Lately I started investigating how the Museum might be able to collaborate with local museums, schools and historical centers – obviously I've considered pitching a pop-up exhibition at their spaces for over a decade now, but I realized I have to be more mindful of the approach. There's no way an organization is going to agree to host or be involved with an outside museum offering a pop-up exhibition if it has nothing to do with their mission or at least their collections. The goal, it seems, is to match interests. For example, the Maryland Center for History and Culture would be more interested in an exhibition on a history of Baltimore beauty parlors than, say, a display of rose-themed makeup, because their mission and collection have nothing to do with botany or natural history but is focused on the state of MD. I think there are ways in which the Museum can engage with both the makeup and local communities, and become more diverse and inclusive in doing so.
Establish metrics for the Museum's collection and content and share them publicly.
To keep any organization accountable in their diversity and inclusion efforts, it's necessary to track measurable outcomes of said efforts. Museums and Race's report card gave me the idea to develop one for the Museum based on the steps listed above. It would be updated annually each January and indicate the progress or maintenance of goals, which are as follows:
Increase the number of posts that focus on or incorporate BIPOC and LGBTQ+ makeup and related topics (for example, the "multicultural" makeup of the '90s). Originally I wanted to follow U.S. demographics and keep a strict 60/40 split in which 40% of posts would be BIPOC-focused, with 18% Latinx topics/artists/brands, 15% Black, 6% Asian and 1% Indigenous. Alas, after crunching some numbers I realized that it would be impossible unless I both greatly scaled back the number of Asian-focused posts and hired or collaborated with BIPOC/LGBTQ+, and there's no telling if I will be able to achieve the latter. So for now, I'm going to take stock of what was written in 2020 and plan on more diverse posts in 2021. In terms of Instagram, taking a cue from the 15% pledge, my goal is to ensure at least 15% of IG posts feature Black makeup history, artists, models or Black-owned brands. I've been doing 11% since June (or 1 out of every 9 posts) and it has proved challenging. It's difficult because I don't want to repeat the same brands, models or artists ad nauseam and also want to provide meaningful and unique content, i.e. I don't want to toss up some ad that people have seen a thousand times before, especially without offering any new insight, just because I need to fill a quota that I set. Representation is critical, but can easily veer into tokenism. Having said that, I'd still like for 1 post out of every 6 (or 17%) to have Black-focused content and I'm working on how I can do that without blindly regurgitating things that are readily available and well-known. I'm also going to count other topics towards this goal even if they don't show a Black model or brand. For example, I have a bottle of Revlon's Touch and Glow foundation from the early 1950s in the deepest shade they made up until about 1957. As you may have guessed, it's medium toned at best. This is an example of how mainstream brands simply did not care about the needs of BIPOC customers, especially Black ones. I'm still not sure how to handle other demographics, however; as noted above, Latinx and Indigenous brands, artists and topics are somehow more difficult to find than Black ones. Nevertheless, Instagram makes it easy to track so I will take stock of 2020's posts and work on at least increasing the number of posts involving these groups.
Increase the number of Museum objects from BIPOC-owned brands. I will keep track of what was acquired each year and work out the proportion of objects that came from BIPOC-owned brands. Then monitor those numbers each year to ensure they increase. For example, I purchased 22 makeup ads in 2020 and 6 of them were from Black-owned brands or featured Black models. So this year, let's say I purchase 22 ads again, 7 or more of them should be from BIPOC-owned brands or feature BIPOC models. The acquisition of objects from white-owned brands will still soundly outpace BIPOC-owned ones, especially for vintage pieces, but the goal is to increase that number and work towards a bigger percentage of BIPOC-owned objects in the collection.
Track the number of BIPOC and LGBTQ+ people or organizations I reached out or donated to, along with community organizations. While nothing may come of these attempts on my part to collaborate with them, I feel it's important to at least get in touch. And there are plenty of BIPOC and LGBTQ individuals and organizations that can use donations.
Ensure all exhibitions meaningfully represent BIPOC and LGBTQ+ individuals and brands, and if not, discuss why.
I think this sort of report card is more valuable than some bland diversity statement. Most of the statements I found lacked substance – they were just a bunch of jargon with no actionable steps outlined.
The Museum's diversity efforts are ongoing, of course. And I plan on tackling the related topics of social change and accessibility as future installments of MM Musings. But this is a beginning of a shift towards meaningful action. Thoughts? I'm off to create a report card for 2020 so I will have something to compare 2021 to.
Makeup Museum (MM) Musings is a series that examines a broad range of museum topics as they relate to the collecting of cosmetics, along with my vision for a “real”, physical Makeup Museum. These posts help me think through how I’d run things if the Museum was an actual organization, as well as examine the ways it’s currently functioning. I also hope that these posts make everyone see that the idea of a museum devoted to cosmetics isn’t so crazy after all – it can be done!
The recent notion of a “made for Instagram” museum experience is a topic that is near and dear to my IG-loving heart. I’ve been on Instagram for about a year and half, and it’s easily become my favorite social media platform. The idea of designing restaurants, hotels, and food with Instagram in mind has officially spilled over into the museum world, so today I want to explore not how museums are using this immensely popular app (800 million users and counting), but the pros and cons of offering museum spaces and exhibitions partially based on how photogenic they are. I also want to talk about how “Instagrammable” the Makeup Museum would be if it occupied a physical space.
There were a few articles I consulted for background information, most of which mentioned the same few museums and exhibitions that seem to be made for Instagram: most notably, the Museum of Ice Cream, Yayoi Kusama’s Infinity Mirror Rooms, The Color Factory, the Rain Room, Refinery29’s 29 Rooms, and the Smithsonian Renwick Gallery’s 2015 “Wonder” exhibition. While the directors and curators behind these insist that they did not design them solely for photo-opp purposes, for many visitors it’s the main takeaway. And some museum professionals and art critics have questioned whether that’s a good thing.
First, let’s look at the pros of having Instagram-friendly spaces and exhibitions. Many agree that highly photogenic, immersive, colorful exhibitions are an excellent way to boost attendance and name recognition. Not only do these exhibitions get more people in the door, once visitors are there they tend to wander to other parts of the museum. In an insightful article for the Washington City Paper, Kriston Capps argues that the made-for-Instagram museum has been a boon to DC’s art scene: “Locally, if there’s a concern about museums serving too many sweets and not enough vegetables, it’s that exhibits that are low on nutrition—meaning shows that lack scholarship, quietude, or the possibility of an anti-social experience—will crowd out shows of substance…quieter shows aren’t going anywhere; in fact, museum directors say that more people are seeing them than ever before, thanks to the louder stuff. ‘There are incalculable benefits when a place that has long been almost invisible in Washington’s crowded museum scene suddenly is one of the hottest destinations in town,’ says Elizabeth “Betsy” Broun, the longtime director of the Smithsonian American Art Museum and Renwick Gallery. ‘Yes, it helps with funding appeals when potential supporters say ‘Wow, the Renwick!’ instead of ‘Where’s the Renwick?’ Surely those museums saw upticks in attendance from Rain Roomers who wandered into other art exhibitions. People queued up outside the building means more foot traffic through the doors—always a plus. And museum boards, donors, and members are no doubt pleased to see high-water marks for attendance…D.C. museums are betting that spectacles are a way to convert crowds into viewers.”
Secondly, even if critics don’t think a particular exhibition is actually art and more of a spectacle made for photo opps, does it really matter? People are having fun in a museum setting, which ostensibly is a good thing. And this might lead them to think about art and museums on a more meaningful level than the pool of ice cream sprinkles they just swam in. As former editorial fellow for the Atlantic Katherine Schwab notes, “Engaging people with art in any way possible is, for many museums, the first step in persuading them of its deeper value. And taking photos of works, however performative it may be, is a way for people to show off what’s important to them.” Adds Russell Dornan for Museum ID, “By photographing their way around a museum, visitors may engage in a deeper way than they otherwise would. Crucially, they also spread the word.”
But there are detractors who believe museums shouldn’t fully embrace the Instagrammable hype. For one thing, it might have the opposite effect on art’s worth, reducing it to a prop rather than enhancing its cultural and historical merit. “Nowadays, art for the sake of art is much less desirable if you can’t document it with an aesthetically pleasing photo to showoff your followers. Art is becoming more of a supporting background in our self-portraits than something of stand-alone value,” warns Annie Francl in Shapeshift Magazine.
Secondly, people may not even be enjoying the experience after all; instead, they’re only there to one-up their Instagram buddies and keep up with the Joneses. The Cut asked several people waiting in line for Kusama’s Infinity Mirrors about why they were there. The responses? “All my friends on Instagram have gone. It looks cool” and “I saw them all over the place on Instagram. A lot of friends have come here.” Indeed, the “worthless without pics” mantra is alive and well. Says Shelby Lerman for Thrive Global, “[The] bigger issue here is not that these spaces are made for Instagram, as seemingly everything today is made with Instagram in mind. It’s that these spaces are created to be adult playgrounds and a huge part of that play depends on being able to prove that you’ve played. (As the saying goes, Instagram or it didn’t happen.) It is not experiencing for the sake of experience: it’s doing something specifically so you can record it and post it to your followers…Plus, these whimsical wonderlands encourage you to shake loose from your daily routine, but also rest on the idea that you’ll be grabbing your smartphone to do it. And to think that spaces are made less habitable in real life so that they work better on social media is a strange thought indeed.” If people aren’t fully immersed in the exhibition experience because they feel an urgent need to document it, museum-going may seem more of a chore than anything else. This PBS article highlights a quote from the premier membership manager at the Seattle Art Museum, who, while heartened at seeing the lines stretching around the block for Kusama’s Infinity Mirrors exhibition, also “felt social media usage hindered the experience, for some users, of an exhibit designed for quiet reflection on the idea of infinity. ‘Instead, people went in there and were like, ‘I only have 30 seconds to take the best picture, the coolest picture,’ he said.'” The article also mentions a study at Fairfield University in Connecticut which found that museum-goers didn’t remember the art when they took photos of it as well as when they were simply observing the art. Along those lines, in the frenzy to get the perfect photo, art can even be damaged – one of Kusama’s sculptures was shattered due to an overzealous selfie-taker in the Infinity Mirrors exhibition.
Perhaps the best expression of my main concern with highly Instagrammable museums comes from Wired Magazine, which produced a short video and more in-depth article on the subject. What benefit do people really get out of the made-for-Instagram museum? “Maybe the question is not whether or not these spaces contain art, or even what their relationship to social media says at all, but instead: What do we get out of these spaces? Do they make us think and reflect and see the world differently? Or does the experience inside amount to the little square photo you post online?” I know that if the Museum occupied a physical space, I certainly wouldn’t want it to be just about photo opps with oversized lipsticks, fun though they are. I want people to actually learn something about makeup and art. And I know when I visit museums I take a few photos here and there, but not for Instagram purposes. I take them to help me remember how special it was to experience the art first-hand – I’m far more invested in learning something and simply observing the art rather than documenting everything I saw or trying to get a selfie. I’d probably be somewhat disappointed if I visited the Museum of Ice Cream since, to my knowledge, there’s no actual attempt to provide people with the history of ice cream, facts about its consumption across the world, etc. But it seems people want to be entertained more than they want to be educated (according to the findings of this study), and no museum director wants to alienate the whopping 81% of people who expect some sort of social media tie-in to their visitor experience, so how would a physical Makeup Museum strike the perfect balance between fun and education?
Obviously the answer lies in striving for compromise. The Makeup Museum would definitely have its fair share of highly Instagrammable spaces. For me, makeup is mostly about having fun and playing with color, so it would almost feel like a crime not to have some kind of crazy colorful installation, if not several, that serves as the perfect selfie backdrop. Who wouldn’t want to take a dive into a pool full of soft, spongey, brightly hued Beauty Blenders? Or capture the perfect picturesque view atop a gigantic lipstick tower? As the study pointed out, the vast majority of museum-goers are expecting an opportunity to show off their snaps. The Cut article highlights several exhibition goers who had actually strategized how they were going to take photos: “Why else would you come [if not to take photos]? We’re going to have to go through it first and then go again, so I know what I need to take pictures of.” Another remarks, “I kind of did some research of what pieces will be shown at the gallery. I brought my Insta360 camera and two iPhones to shoot as much as I can, since I heard there was a time limit for each piece. Specially the Infinity mirror room and polka-dotted environment were the perfect two pieces to do a 360.” At this level of photography planning on the part of visitors, it’s important not to disappoint them.
At the same time, however, it’s equally important to make sure people who want to be educated and who maybe just want to take everything in don’t get overwhelmed with crazy, over-the-top, made for Instagram exhibitions and spaces. There would be a few spaces and installations available for those who want the full Instagram documentation, or if the space the Museum occupied really didn’t allow for that, I could at least offer a guide to the most Instagrammable spots in the Museum. Smithsonian Magazine highlights how some museums have been rearranging a few of their galleries to make them more selfie-friendly. “The Getty Museum in Los Angeles rearranged mirrors in its decorative arts gallery to make mirror selfies easier, while San Francisco’s Museum of Modern Art added terraces designed as selfie spots. On its website, the Birmingham Museum of Art in Birmingham, Alabama describes its summer art series as ‘Instagram gold’ and offers an online slideshow of the top places in the museum to take a selfie.” But this would definitely not be the focus of the Museum, as my primary aim in founding it was for people to learn something about the history of makeup and appreciate the artistry that goes into the packaging. Especially since, despite the hordes of visitors who are chasing the perfect shot, there are still those who want to simply experience the art and not worry about documenting it. About her plans for visiting Infinity Mirrors, another museum-goer tells The Cut, “You’re going to miss the whole thing if you take a video! I’ll probably take one or two pics, but I’ll probably try to just take it all in, because we’re only in there for a limited amount of time. I don’t really want to take a photo, I kind of want to just chill.” This is largely my approach as a museum visitor and basically every other outing. There’s a reason you hardly ever see food photos on my IG, as I prefer to eat my food than take pictures of it. Same with concerts and other shows – as much as I’d like to get the perfect photo, I feel as though the stress of it completely negates my enjoyment of the event. My goal is to have the Makeup Museum be a place for both people like me as well as those who prefer spectacle over substance, a positive experience for everyone. As professional Instagrammer (yes, it can be a job) Patrick Janelle concludes in the Smithsonian article, “Ultimately what we want are really wonderful experiences…and sure we want to be able to document them on social media, but we also crave things that are just really wonderful and special in real life.”
What do you think? And what would be the ultimate Instagram bait for a makeup museum?
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Makeup Museum (MM) Musings is a series that examines a broad range of museum topics as they relate to the collecting of cosmetics, along with my vision for a “real”, physical Makeup Museum. These posts help me think through how I’d run things if the Museum was an actual organization, as well as examine the ways it’s currently functioning. I also hope that these posts make everyone see that the idea of a museum devoted to cosmetics isn’t so crazy after all – it can be done!
I came across this article detailing an example of an unsolicited museum donation, and it got me thinking about how this would apply to the Makeup Museum. Let’s explore the pros and cons of such donations for a cosmetics museum, shall we?
In the 9 years I’ve been running the Museum, it has received a handful of amazing, completely unsoliciteddonations, two of which I haven’t even posted about because they were so huge and I’m still in the process of adding them to the inventory and photographing everything. Some very kind people bestowed hard to find or vintage items in great condition simply because they were going to throw them out, but instead they took the time to do a little research and discovered the Museum might be a good place for these items instead of the trash. I must say I’ve had good luck so far with unsolicited donations – no one has sent me beauty items that are in such poor condition that they really do belong in the garbage. (No one has even requested that I reimburse them for postage, which blows my mind! I’ve offered, but they all turned me down.) Even though I usually have no idea what I’m getting when people offer to send me things – very few take photos and just offer a brief description – I have no problem digging through the items once they arrive and throwing them out if they really are trash. And as I’m always trying to grow the Museum’s collection, right now I have a favorable opinion of such donations. It’s not often you can get quality items for free, so these unsolicited donations essentially mean collection growth without spending a dime of my own money. Indeed, several prominent museums have had help in growing their collections via unsolicited donations as well. As the director of the institutional history division at the Smithsonian remarked in this article, “We built our collection with amateur collectors.”
Another pro of an unsolicited donation is that even if I can’t use it for the collection, it at least provides research and/or blog post fodder. I like to think of donations as opportunities for other aspects of museum expansion, as sometimes these items can lead me to look into vintage brands or trends I hadn’t explored before, or even exhibition concepts. For example, the Stila memorabilia donations I received sparked the idea of doing a whole exhibition on Stila girl illustrations. (Still working on it, obviously!)
Finally, for established organizations unsolicited donations can also lead to good press and increased visitor engagement. This article in Nonprofit Quarterly discusses an unsolicited donation that a museum could have used as PR opportunity and a way to interact with more visitors (although I do understand why the museum didn’t follow through with it). While right now the Makeup Museum doesn’t have any real PR to speak of, if it was an actual museum I’d absolutely pass along unsolicited donations to my PR team and education/engagement staff and see if they could do anything with them.
Now for the not-so-good aspects of unsolicited donations. Most museums have policies in place clearly stating that they cannot accept unsolicited donations that are left at the doorstep or sent through the mail, and for several good reasons. First, and probably most important, unsolicited donations can present a host of legal problems. State laws regarding abandoned property vary, so museums have to determine whether they can legally own donations that were left or sent anonymously. Not only that, while the donation is monetarily free, the donor may put burdensome conditions in place, such as having the item on display at all times. This makes the legal aspects of the deed of gift more complicated, and the conditions themselves may be more trouble than the donation is worth. Plus, some pieces have questionable provenance, especially those where the donor refuses to say how they acquired the item or even give their name – no museum wants stolen or fake works in their collections because, again, this could lead to an epic litigation nightmare.
Second, unsolicited donations require an incredible amount of experience in handling extremely delicate situations. If a donor is turned down, the result may be a permanently damaged relationship that could affect other donations. Not only does museum staff want to avoid hurt feelings, as donors can be very attached to an object and may take the rejection personally, but the donor may have something else of value that they are now not willing to part with. As this Wall Street Journal article explains, “Responding to inquiries for donations requires considerable tact, if for no other reason than a collector offering one unwanted object may have one or more others in which the museum would be far more interested…museum officials attempt to learn something about the person making the offer, because they don’t want to close the door on a relationship that might yield other benefits.”
Third, unsolicited donations can be logistically difficult for a small museum that doesn’t necessarily have the resources to sift through everything that gets left outside their door or in their mail. Even if the item proves worthy of the museum’s collection, the accessioning process takes a considerable amount of time. Additionally, the museum may not have the storage space or ability to conserve the items. While mostly applauding the unsolicited donation of goldfish to a museum’s pond (literally someone just smuggled a bunch of fish onto museum property and dumped them into the pond without consulting any staff), the Nonprofit Quarterly article notes that the fish ended up dead since the pond wasn’t the right environment for them. If a museum can’t properly care for a donation for whatever reason, it actually does more harm than good.
Finally, the museum’s focus is also a reason that unsolicited donations are tricky to handle. In the case of the Peabody Museum of Natural History, donated animal carcasses to be taxidermied or otherwise preserved by the museum present a safety hazard if the critters succumbed to rabies or carried dangerous parasites. On a less deadly side, I’d imagine a fashion museum would have to take special care in ensuring the donated garments are free of moths and other insects, lest they spread to the rest of the museum’s collection and destroy it.
In light of all these challenges, many museums have very clear policies in place that help protect them against the potential pitfalls that unsolicited donations present. As for the Makeup Museum, right now I don’t think I really need an official policy, since 1. it’s not like I’m getting bombarded with donations so I can handle the amount; 2. legally I can’t get into trouble for accepting items or throwing them out since the Museum isn’t an actual institution – it’s really a situation of one person gifting items to another. (At least, I don’t think I can be sued or anything like that…any lawyers want to weigh in?)
However, should the Makeup Museum ever become a real organization, it would investigate unsolicited donations on a case-by-case basis and maintain a public policy that all staff is well-versed in. I’d definitely require a form of some kind to be filled out online and have hard copies available in the case of in-person drop-offs. I’d also follow the standard guideline that most museums have posted – I might even use this exact language from the Chicago History Museum and the International Spy Museum cobbled together, since it’s perfect (why reinvent the wheel?): “The Museum does not accept donations through the mail or in person unless prior arrangements have been made with the appropriate curatorial or collection staff member. All unsolicited donations sent via the mail will be returned to sender. The Museum reserves the right to dispose of unsolicited items.” Storage space shouldn’t be that much of an issue since makeup items are generally small. Currently I’m running out of room, but that’s only because I’m trying to keep the collection in my home – if I had a large dedicated space, it wouldn’t pose too much of a problem (unless the donation was something like salon furniture or oversize props…still, if Paul & Joe wanted to donate those giant cat lipsticks they used for their events, I’d take them in a heartbeat, lack of space be damned). As for health hazards, I can see that used makeup is kind of gross, but most likely it doesn’t pose a threat as the items can be somewhat sanitized and no one would actually be using them – they’re just being displayed. The only things you’d have to be really careful with are hair-related items, i.e., I’d think twice about accepting a used vintage hairbrush or other accessories, as an outbreak of lice is not desirable.
There are many potential issues with unsolicited donations, but I believe that if a museum sticks to their policy and ensures their staff understands it, the benefits greatly outweigh the risks. As Jody Ochoa, Director of the Idaho State Historical Museum emphasizes, “If we don’t know anything about an item, how can we take it? Having a good solid policy is really key, and it protects everyone, including the volunteers.” My current job also forces me to handle sensitive situations on occasion, so I think I’d be equipped to gently and tactfully negotiate or turn down a donation – hopefully there wouldn’t be any burning of bridges with donors for me.
What do you think?
Makeup Museum (MM) Musings is a series that examines a broad range of museum topics as they relate to the collecting of cosmetics, along with my vision for a "real", physical Makeup Museum. These posts help me think through how I'd run things if the Museum was an actual organization, as well as examine the ways it's currently functioning. I also hope that these posts make everyone see that the idea of a museum devoted to cosmetics isn't so crazy after all – it can be done!
Since my last MM Musings post on what a permanent collection display might look like in an actual beauty museum, I've been thinking about ideas for special exhibitions. But I kept getting overwhelmed with the details of a specific exhibition's themes. After a while I realized my usual musings style wasn't going to work for a post on special exhibitions, so I changed tactics to bring you something much more interesting and enlightening than my usual reflections: an interview with Ashley Boycher, Associate Exhibition Designer at the Walters Art Museum here in Baltimore. Yes, I got to chat (email) with a real-life exhibition designer at one of the top museums in the country! Enjoy.
MM: What is the basic process of exhibition design? Does the curator tell you which pieces they want and you go from there? Who else do you work with besides the curator?
AB: Although sometimes exhibition ideas come from the public, certain museum trends, conservators, and/or museum educators, the seed of an exhibition is almost always planted by the curator, and the curator is academically responsible for the exhibition throughout the process. Once the seed is planted, the curator writes an exhibition narrative and begins to make a list of objects that s/he believes will best illustrate that narrative. Then there are lost of talks with conservators about which of the objects are in good enough shape and/or can be made into good enough shape for the exhibition given the timeframe. Also, when applicable, there are talks with registrars, who are responsible for the handling and logistics of moving and storing objects, and other institutions' representatives about the feasibility of bringing objects to our institution for the exhibition from other places. This happens with almost all large scale exhibitions and the negotiations with the other institutions often includes logistics about traveling the exhibitions to those institutions as well. In fact, grant funding is often dependent on the ability to collaborate with other institutions and travel the show domestically and/or internationally. Once many of these things are worked out, the curator and I begin conversations. This is usually about 18 months out from the exhibition opening. We do some preliminary ideation about object groupings and the look and feel of the show. During that time, the curator is also talking in a preliminary way with a museum educator about different didactic and interactive elements that might enhance the exhibition experience. At about a year out, the three of us come together and begin to really hash out the meat of the show. We also bring in representatives from the other museum divisions: IT, marketing, development, security, etc, when we need to collaborate on things like how we will advertise the show and what technology, if any, will benefit the exhibition message, both outwardly and inside the exhibition itself. All of the details come together in about 8 months, and for the last 4 months of the development process we are in production mode – labels being edited, graphics being printed, cases being built, walls being painted, etc – along with any straggler details that we miss beforehand, which always happens.
MM: Do you do some kind of prototype before the exhibition opens?
AB: It depends. Sometimes we're not exactly sure how a paint color will look in the space, so we'll slap it up on the wall and look at it for a few days and adjust where necessary. That is, if we have time. Often art is coming out of a space only a week before other art is supposed to go in, which means we don't always have the opportunity to do this. Other prototyping sometimes happens when we are trying out a weird or new display type. And we almost always prototype interactives, both low tech and high tech.
MM: Do you have experience with designing decorative object-based exhibitions and if so, how does it differ from designing exhibitions for other types of art?
AB: I've never designed a show that was purely dec arts objects, but they have been a part of shows i've designed. The new installation that opens here in October has lots of dec arts in it. I would say that in my experience one of the main differences is that many dec arts objects are heartier than other art, in better shape, and often made of less than precious materials, which means that conservation does not always make us put them under a vitrine. In this way they can help to create the look and feel of a space rather than just being purely on display. I suppose that was their original function anyway. 🙂
MM: What are some of the latest, cutting-edge developments in exhibition design?
AB: Well, unfortunately the latest cutting-edge development design aren't really happening at many art museums. Science museums and natural history museums are the ones that are usually on the cutting edge when it comes to design and technology. This summer I visited the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago, and one of their exhibitions had this amazing custom theatre system. It was made using custom craft carpentry, crazy projectors, and bit mapping. You can see a cool video about the making of it.
MM: What was your favorite exhibition you designed and why?
AB: That's a really hard question! The reason I got into exhibition design was because I was interested in too many different things to pick one thing to continue studying (I'm also just not that much of an academic eve though I really loved school). Working on exhibitions awards me the opportunity to learn about another fascinating different thing with each new project. So I guess my favorite is always whatever the latest project is. I suppose I have shiny thing syndrome.
MM: If money wasn't a factor, what would your “dream” exhibition be?
AB: When I was in graduate school, one of my big solo projects was an exhibition about the art, science, and history of tattooing throughout time and across the globe. I am fascinated by tattoos because they have so many different facets: cultural heritage, technology, biology, taboo, straight up beautiful artistry, the list goes on and on. I think a well planned and designed exhibition about tattooing could be interesting to just about everyone for one or more of these reasons. I'd love to be on a project like that.
MM: Do you have any ideas or suggestions regarding exhibitions that would have lots of small objects, i.e. makeup? I promise I'm not asking you to work for free – I'm just looking for any sort of general advice or tips off the top of your head!
AB: The hard thing about showing a bunch of small things is that the displays always want to look like retail rather than museum quality. My biggest advice would be to make sure you single out your best pieces. Put them on their own pedestals, maybe give them a bigger brighter pop of color, or a few more inches in height. Just make sure they actually stand out in a way that tells your visitor, "hey, you want to make sure you look at me and only me for a sec." If you want to do a display of a bunch of things together for impact or to get a certain point across, especially if it's several examples of one type of thing, make sure you save your 2nd and 3rd tier objects for those displays.
Thank you so much, Ashley, both for the peek into the life of an exhibition designer and for the invaluable advice!! (And I think we both have "shiny thing syndrome" – more literally for me).
Makeup
Museum (MM) Musings is a series that examines a broad range of museum
topics as they relate to the collecting of cosmetics, along with my
vision for a "real", physical Makeup Museum. These posts help me
think through how I'd run things if the Museum was an actual
organization, as well as examine the ways it's currently functioning.
I also hope that these posts make everyone see that the idea of a
museum devoted to cosmetics isn't so crazy after all – it can be done!
I bet you're wondering where the Curator keeps the Makeup Museum's collection. (At least, I hope all two of my readers are curious.) So today's installment of MM Musings is devoted to the topic of storage.
No museum can really escape the issue of where to store its collection; it's not as though curators and directors can simply toss pieces into the garbage if they don't want them anymore. While museums do regularly deaccession some of their works, this is not the most efficient way to make room for more items. However, the bigger storage issues museums face relate to organization and security, not so much lack of space. When a public institution such as a museum is planned, obviously the people behind it ensure the location they choose has enough room for a growing collection. Some museums also are able to obtain grants for either off-site storage spaces or additions to the current location should their collection outgrow the existing storage space.
But for a private collection that grows quickly such as the Makeup Museum's, finding enough space is definitely a challenge. While makeup items tend to be small, I'm adding things at a very fast pace so my designated storage spaces fill up rapidly. And since the Museum does not yet occupy a public space, I can't exactly jump on the "visual storage" bandwagon that's so popular these days (my next MM Musings post will cover that.) Everything is stored at home in several different spots.
Now I will take you through the dark underbelly of the Makeup Museum and see if you can help me come up with a storage solution that doesn't involve off-site space or deaccessioning some of the collection (the horror!).
First I'll take you through the makeup room. Actually it's technically a master closet, but since most of my makeup is stored there, including the stuff I actually use, I refer to it as the makeup room. (This is also the room the husband built to convince me to move in…he had NO idea what he was in for.)
The closet and drawers are from Ikea, the Stila poster is from the kind salespeople at the Columbia Mall who let me take it. I was upset at the thought of it being destroyed after it was taken down so I asked if I could have it when they were done with it.
Here's the drawer where I store Paul & Joe and Stila. I store these brands here because they fit better here than they do in other drawers – you'll see why shortly.
Hey, Mummy Babo! Get out of there! I guess the little scamp couldn't resist photobombing my storage pics.
The very top drawer stores makeup from brands A-K. This was nearly impossible to photograph because it's up so high – even on a ladder I couldn't get a good picture.
It starts with A's (Anna Sui, Armani) on the left and continues to the right.
The rest of the drawers hold clothes as well as my stash (the makeup I wear rather than display), and on top of the closet are storage tubs holding miscellaneous seasonal items – summer shoes, mini Christmas tree, etc. So unfortunately I think the rest of that closet is off limits in terms of making more storage for the Museum.
The rest of the collection is stored in another closet, although this one is much smaller and regrettably, probably the ugliest space in our home. It's in a weird little niche off a hallway near the bedroom and we keep all kinds of random stuff in there – flashlights and other tools, cleaning supplies, physical therapy/fitness items, etc.
I think these drawers are also from Ikea. Originally the drawers were designated just for Shu Uemura, but I had to stack some MAC bags on top.
Now the individual drawers, which as you can see, are pretty full.
This drawer has some Paul & Joe bags that couldn't fit in with the other Paul & Joe stuff, along with some other makeup bags. The black one in the front of the drawer (on the left in the pic) is a tote from the NARS Melrose boutique, while the purple one next to the red Paul & Joe kitty bag is from Chantecaille.
The last drawer contains postcards.
Another set of drawers sits to the right of that set. I cleared off the top but normally we have workout stuff (weights, etc.) sitting on it. Why, hello Swiffer!
The first drawer has totally random stuff from all different brands – brands that aren't well represented in the Museum's collection so far, i.e., ones that I don't need entire drawers for yet.
The rest of the drawers contain all my LUSH bath goodies.
Finally, there's another cart of drawers all the way in the back. I've resorted to putting more Paul & Joe stuff on top.
First drawer contains the L's – Lancome and Laura Mercier.
Then we move into MAC.
Here's where the organization really falls apart. I think this drawer originally just had Too-Faced palettes, but with MAC's constant limited-edition offerings I had to put MAC stuff in here too.
The rest of the Too-Faced collection and some Tokidoki:
Then, the bottom-most drawers, which I have trouble reaching because this cart sits behind another cart where we keep home repair stuff, I ended up shoving NARS stuff in there, along with more random items (Milani, Laduree, Urban Decay). Clearly this is no longer alphabetical. I think I did it this way because I wasn't expecting NARS to ever have LE items, so I just went straight from MAC to Too-Faced and instead of moving NARS up one drawer and the Too-Faced stuff down, I just put them in here. Lazy I know.
Then, finally, more bags and other memorabilia.
So…any suggestions how to make more room besides getting rid of things or moving them off-site? In looking at that second cart, I think I may have to strip it of the LUSH items and move them somewhere else – I can probably put them in one larger bag somewhere, there's no need for them to be spread out in the drawers. Another option is to attempt to put some things into the storage tubs on top the of the closet in the makeup room, but that really isn't easily accessible. The stuff that's up there now are all things I need only once or twice a year, but with the Museum's exhibitions happening at least 4 times a year and me constantly putting away things that aren't on display I need easier access.
Unfortunately that's all I can think of at the moment. We either need to move to a bigger house or I need to get a public space!
Thoughts? (Other than "you have too much makeup")?
Makeup
Museum (MM) Musings is a series that examines a broad range of museum
topics as they relate to the collecting of cosmetics, along with my
vision for a "real", physical Makeup Museum. These posts help me
think through how I'd run things if the Museum was an actual
organization, as well as examine the ways it's currently functioning.
I also hope that these posts make everyone see that the idea of a
museum devoted to cosmetics isn't so crazy after all – it can be done!
The following exchange is an excerpt from an episode of the Simpsons in which Homer takes his daughter Lisa to the Springfield Natural History Museum, which is closing due to "lack of interest".
Homer: What do you mean by "suggested donation"? Admissions clerk: Pay any amount you wish, sir.
Homer: And uh, what if I wish to pay… zero?
Clerk: That is up to you.
Homer: Ooh, so it's up to me, is it?
Clerk: Yes.
Homer: I see. And you think that people are going to pay you $4.50 even
though they don't have to? Just out of the goodness of their… (laughs) Well, anything you say! Good luck, lady, you're gonna need it!
Today I want to discuss museum admission fees and determine whether the Makeup Museum would be free to visitors. Obviously, since there are myriad factors that go into deciding such a thing, I don't know if the question will be settled today. But then, that is the whole point of MM Musings – to explore the various facets of an important issue for a would-be Makeup Museum.
Let's start with why museums shouldn't be free to visitors. The most basic argument is that since museum outings are a form of entertainment, it's no different than charging people to see a movie or attend a sporting event. The former director of the Met, Phillipe de Montebello, remarked, "What is it about art that shouldn't be paid for?" Secondly, museums wouldn't be able to offer a broad range of programming and
activities unless their visitors pay. According to LACMA director
Michael Govan, free museum admission "would severely limit the kinds and numbers of programs we could offer,
because our budgets would be smaller. When people are paying, and it's
less than a movie ticket, they are actually contributing to a museum
that serves a lot of people." Finally, a museum devoted to cosmetics is considered a niche museum, meaning that it would most likely be out of the running for financial support from the local government or foundations, and thus would need every penny that could be generated from admissions income just to cover operating expenses.
However, it's been my long-standing belief that museums should always be free. For starters, the argument that they're like other forms of entertainment rings false – museums are more of a public service, like libraries. Secondly, is anyone really going to be willing to pay? An article at The Art Newspaper points out that "museums in major cities, especially those that attract tourists, by and
large charge for entry. Their counterparts in areas with fewer
international tourists or which rely on local visitors are more likely
to be free because they need those visitors to return…Regional cities have fewer tourists to exploit and, as a result, tend to
be more altruistic and community-minded. Of the museums surveyed that
do not charge admission, two-thirds were in smaller cities." Baltimore is a prime example of this: the Walters Art Museum and the Baltimore Museum of Art established free admission in 2006. I don't think people are going to fork over any money to visit the Makeup Museum when they could see world-renowned art for free at other museums in the city.
Third, it's actually not as financially essential for a museum to charge admission as one would think. A 2006 New York Times article reports that "according to the Association of Art Museum Directors, museums earn an
average of 5 percent of their revenue from admissions." And Art Info states that in 2010, only 3% of LACMA's budget came from admissions fees. One may argue, while it's a small percentage, where are you going to make up the money gained from admissions if you make it free? The New York Times article adds that "eliminating admission fees can attract new community support. When the
Contemporary Arts Museum in Houston stopped charging admission in 1995,
public donations increased enough to make up for the loss of income." The L.A. Times notes that here in Baltimore after the Walters went free, the "income loss was made up from a combination of public funds,
private philanthropy and increased memberships from newly engaged
locals. Museum income fluctuations of 3% to 4% are so common as to be
insignificant; it makes sense to seize control of the one fluctuation
tied to visitors, because they matter most." Additionally, contrary to popular belief, free admission does not mean an automatic decrease in museum membership either.
Lastly, there's the issue of accessibility, which is why I have unequivocally believed that museums should be free. Says Timothy Potts, director of the Getty Museum in L.A., "In my mind there's no question that even a relatively small entry
charge is a major hurdle for many people. The ones you most want to
come, for whom that $6 is really quite a significant amount, they're the
ones you lose. The people who can afford to collect, have an art
history degree, go to museums around the world — they can still afford
it, they can still come. It's the people who haven't had all those
benefits, but you really want to open their eyes to what an art museum
represents, and they're the ones you lose by charging even a relatively
small amount." An example of this is the recent price slash for low-income families at the Boston Children's Museum, which significantly dropped the cost of visiting after current discounts still weren't getting low-income families into the museum. Free admission works: in the six months after the Walters implemented free admission, attendance increased almost 40%, of which half were first-time visitors. This spike held steady for almost four years, and what's more is that
nonwhite attendance has tripled. I think every museum professional wants their museum to be accessible to everyone, especially those populations that wouldn't normally be able to afford the entry free. The bottom line is that without free admission, museums could easily turn into "social halls for the well-off" (case in point: the recent ejecting of a poor family at the Musée d'Orsay). And I certainly wouldn't want the Makeup Museum to end up that way!
In looking at all these arguments, I think that while it would be difficult to fund the Makeup Museum initially, I'd have to have free admission, even for special exhibitions. Not only because it seems like the right thing to do and I want as many people as possible to visit, but also because I think it would be sustainable. The beauty industry makes literally billions of dollars a year – surely one of these gigantic companies would be willing to sponsor a museum centered on cosmetics, especially when their own products would be so prominently displayed. I think I may still have a little "suggested donation" box, however – if for no other reason than to satisfy my own curiosity as to whether people would actually give money.
If you were to visit the Makeup Museum, would you expect it to be free?
