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Have you ever been to the Center of the Universe? Nestled in a valley amid the rising pine-tree blanketed peaks of the Bitterroot Mountains of Northern Idaho lies the town of Wallace. It’s a small town — in the 2000 census, 960 people called it home — that has made a disproportionately large mark on history. If you find yourself at the point where 6th Street meets Bank Street in the southwest portion of town, look down. That’s the Center of the Universe, or at least it has been since 2004 when the Mayor of Wallace declared it to be so and put in a manhole cover to commemorate the occasion. Now look up, you’re standing in the middle of a street and you should probably move before you get hit by a car.

Once safely back on the sidewalk, you can take in your surroundings. Wallace is an old mining town, a central player in the Silver Valley, which got its name from the over 1 billion ounces of the metal unearthed from the 40 miles of rugged hills over the last 130 years or so. This outpost of the Wild West got its start back in the 1880s and was the center of national interest when tensions between miners and owners boiled over to such an extreme that lives were lost and the Army was called in to keep the peace in both 1892 and 1899. The Great Burn of 1910 wiped out most of the town, but it was quick to rebuild. Many of the buildings you see today are part of that reconstruction effort and are all listed on the National Register of Historic Places, a ploy by the town to force the federal government to build Interstate 90 over Wallace rather than through it. As a result, there is still much of that turn of the century charm about Wallace.

Photo by amanderson2 via Flickr.

Wallace is less than a square mile in area, but there are actually a fair amount of venues for drinking in the history of this western gem. To get a feel for the mining life, visit the Wallace District Mining Museum just east of the Center of the Universe or take a mine tour in one of the surrounding caves. Of course, the railroad was integral to the town’s survival, so a trip to the Northern Pacific Railroad Depot Museum is recommended. But, to really get a taste for life in a rugged western mining town, look no further than the Oasis Bordello Museum.

The Oasis was a fully function brothel up until 1988 (just shy of it’s 100th birthday), when the madame — known as Ginger — got word of an FBI raid. The ladies grabbed what they could and ran out the door just ahead of the lawmen. The G-Men ended up using Wallace as their center of operations for three years as they cracked down on lawlessness in the region, which meant the Oasis remained shuttered. However, this house of ill repute got a second lease on life when it reopened as a museum in 1993.

Enter through the gift shop, where paintings of idyllic mining life share space with seductively posed mannequins (well, as seductively posed as mannequins can be). This is also a perfect opportunity to pick up that “Good-Time Girls Cookbook” you’ve been meaning to add to your collection or my personal favorite memento: the menu mug. The menu of services as they stood on the 1988 closing date has been printed to make your morning coffee just a little more racy. “Straight, no frills” would cost you $15 and last 8 minutes, while an hour long bubble bath would run you $80. The “Half & Half Deluxe” seems like a bargain at $25.

Sign up for the Bordello Tour and head upstairs for a look at the rooms, which have been preserved exactly as they were left (even the dirty dishes in the sink) in 1988. It lasts about 20 minutes, and provides a worthwhile glimpse into the lives of the women who worked in the world’s oldest profession in this small mining town. You also get to find out the story behind the one-shoed men of Wallace. It just might be one of the more memorable museum experiences you’ll ever have.

Photo by JD Hancock via Flickr.

My name is Rusty Baker, and I’m a Museum Person.

Tell us a little about yourself.

Like I always tell people who ask how I got into this, I had just graduated with a B.A. in English and a Pennsylvania Teaching Certificate in 1990, so naturally I was unemployed looking for work when I got a job offer from a friend’s dad to come work for his art gallery. That would be the beginning of a what has been a great journey from a commercial gallery to an art auction company outside of Philadelphia, to a job as a small art museum’s Director of Operations. A huge door opened for me when I moved from that position to Acting Director, spent a year convincing a sometimes insane board of directors I might be Director material, then was named Executive Director. After that position, I spent a small stint with one of the nation’s largest art shipping and handling companies, and then I relocated and joined Pennsylvania’s statewide museum association as the Marketing and Membership Guy. I was invited to become the Executive Director back in April when our organization restructured.

Why do museums matter to you?

Museums are magical places. We tend to feel forced to defend museums, to do research, to gather together ideas that somehow justify our existence. No one asks a car mechanic to do these things. The very word museum bears witness to the reason there are museums. Museums exist because they matter. It is wonderful that museums are an economic generator in communities. I am excited there are so many discoveries and stories that noodle out of art and objects and experiences with them. Real learning, whether you can test to it or not, comes in museums. Since I am a museum guy, the jobs created by this industry (and it is an industry) obviously determine whether there is food on my table. All of these reasons seem empty to me, just another Gen X whine I can bleat out. It is the magic of museums, the unspoken wonder of them, that really does it for me. I am certain I share this with other museum people. Museums are complex institutions, but once you get it, like tuberculosis, you can’t “unget” it.

What is your favorite museum memory?

(Editors note: Rusty really wanted to include two stories, but I liked his first one so much, I decided to let it stand on its own. If you want to hear more museum memories from Rusty, chat with him on Twitter at @rustybaker647.)

My first marriage was disintegrating, and I was working on an installation or just about anything else at work for twelve or fourteen hours a day. The curator had put together an amazing small exhibit of work that dealt with identity, and I was truly fighting a lot of demons at the time. We installed a small light bulb piece, two spooned bulbs by Felix Gonzalez Torres. We talked about what we would do if one of the bulbs burnt out.

“We leave it that way,” the curator said.

“We leave it that way?” I echoed.

“Sometimes love dies,” he said.

What museum would you love to visit?

This is a tough one. There are so many museums! Pennsylvania has something like 1,000 of them, and I haven’t seen them all. If the sky is the limit, I’d love to visit the Imperial War Museum, LA MOCA, and the Harley Davidson Museum.

Photo by mediafury via Flickr.

What is your dream museum job?

Being a curator is the dream museum job. Everyone wants to be a curator, don’t they? I’ve done it, and when it goes well, it is like hitting home runs one after another. You just hope someone in the stands cheers, too.

When you think of the perfect exhibit, what is in it?

I’ve seen a few exhibits that were almost perfect, and I was completely blown away by the Carnegie International in 1999, still think about it all the time. I talk about it when I have captive listeners.

The perfect exhibit, no matter what is in it, art or historical objects, is an organic thing. It should appear effortless, and it shouldn’t make a visitor work too hard for the payoff. Great exhibitions look like they grew from seed in a space. They were always there, and they will always be there.

What is the most random item you have bought in a museum gift shop?

I lack the shopping gene, but I am sort of compulsive about Peanut M & M’s. I’ve bought those in gift shops.

What museum would you move into for a month if you could?

I’d do that at any motorcycle museum that let me ride the bikes to make sure they were all in good working condition.

I used to work crazy long hours, and I feel like I already spent a month straight in a museum. I don’t mean that to sound as if I am some kind of silver back gorilla beating his chest. From my point of view, the more time you spend with museums or museum objects, the deeper the impact they have on you. You might listen to a popular song you like over and over again. You re-read a book you liked while you are at the beach on vacation. You saw Star Wars seven times in 1979. You don’t need to go to extremes, but it will be better the second time around.

Tom Sokolowski once spoke about a survey of visitors to the Andy Warhol Museum. They answered they had definitely liked the museum. They answered no to “Do you plan to return?” Tom was outraged by this, and he asked. “Did you have sex? Yes. Did you like it? Yes!! Are you going to do it again? NO!!!!” This was funny as hell to hear, put this way, in a more common denominator.

My feelings about A Month at the Museum are fairly complicated, but museums are, too. A thirty day stay, as a stunt or a job, only brushes the surface of what these places are.

Out of all the museums you have visited so far, which one is your favorite?

The Philadelphia Museum of Art stands out for me. I have been there a lot of times, and I think that accounts for something.  I now have my favorite things to go see at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, so my time is focused on the seven or eight works I really want to spend time with. They are old friends, these things. Ghost, that big Calder right in the entrance, that’s one of them. I love that Calder. I sometimes blow really hard and hope it moves. It never does.

Photo by joyosity via Flickr.

What is the most bizarre museum you have visited?

I visited The Barnes Foundation maybe eight years ago, and that will be the story I tell my grand children. What a strange place! What a strange story! What strange stuff!

There seem to be a million books and movies set in museums. Do you have a favorite?

The first Night At The Museum probably captured what I have referred to as “the magic” about museums better than most. I am also an Indiana Jones fan, and having delivered crates to the Smithsonian’s vast storage site, I have a special appreciation for The Lost Ark. I would tell you I saw it, but that wouldn’t be true.

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Fonthill, the home of Henry C. Mercer. Photo by James Loesch via Flickr.

About an hour north of Philadelphia lies the quaint suburban enclave of Doylestown. Like many smaller Pennsylvania towns, you will find find lawyers milling about the courthouse and antique-hunting tourists ambling along the shop-lined streets. However, one thing that sets Doylestown apart is the castle that sits just off the town’s main drag. This 6-story fortress built entirely out of concrete would not be totally out of place in the late-Middle Ages, but instead of housing royalty, it contains one of the world’s most extensive collections of pre-Industrial tools.

It is difficult to prepare for the Mercer Museum. To say that the collection of tools in a rural Pennsylvania castle threw me off my traditional museum-going game would be a bit of an understatement. Fortunately, the museum strives to orient visitors right from the start. As you enter the exhibit space, there is a sign outlining 18 commonly asked questions about the museum, the collection, and the man behind it all; and it directs you to where you can find the answers to these questions in the exhibit. I should have read these questions more closely because one especially — “Why Are Objects Hanging From the Ceiling” — might have prepared me for what lay ahead.

The small entry hallway is lined with ceramic tiles depicting craftsmen at work and brief blurbs of text that attempt to answer the difficult matter of “What is This Place?” Once past these initial display pieces you enter the heart of the museum: a central courtyard with six floors spiraling upward.

Photo by krooooop via Flickr.

This space is so far from the sterile corridors of the modern museum that for a moment you just have to stare. There is stuff everywhere, and yet it is not uncomfortably cluttered. In one sense it is much like a blown-up version of a Victorian cabinet of curiosity, which is to be expected given the era in which Henry Mercer was collecting — 1870s-1920s. In another sense, it seems like a scene fresh out of a Harry Potter film, where the staircases will move on a whim and the figures in paintings flit from frame to frame. Overall, the first glimpse of the space is like a happy gulp of wonder; rarely have I been so magically transported by simply entering a museum exhibit.

After taking a moment to drink it all in, you can finally begin to notice the details. Four floors above you a stagecoach looks out over the bow of a whaling boat complete with harpoons. Just ahead Buffalo Bill presides over an army of carved Indian tobacco shop statues, which according to the label were the most popular advertising signs for such shops for nearly three centuries. Wandering down offshoot alcoves leads you to rooms dedicated to shoemaking, hornblowing, and sheep shearing. There is a glisten off of the rows of redware pottery and furniture hangs from the ceiling above. Visit the old printing press or spend some time with the gathering of meat preservation tools before passing the galloping weathervanes on your ascent. Looking closely at the patterns used for creating wallpaper and discovering just how poorly modern plastics are at recreating the uniqueness of tortoiseshell combs are just a sampling of the tidbits of knowledge that can be acquired amid the warren-like maze of the Mercer Museum.

By the time I reached the sixth floor and encountered an old hearse, I felt as if I was an accidental walk-on in a unpublished Gothic novel, sneaking around in an old English attic with Mr. Rochester about to pop out behind the next bend in the wall. And that is the funny thing about this museum. A collection of tools sounds like a rather dry subject on paper, but at the Mercer, with the objects arranged in a haphazardly organized method in this quirky castle built specifically to be their home, it is transformed into an almost romantic experience.

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To “cultivate…a broad appreciation and awareness of the past, helping people find stories and meanings that both sustain them in the present and aid them in approaching the future.” Such are the aims of the Mercer Museum, which they share with their larger parent organization: the Bucks County Historical Society. As far as mission statements go, it falls far short of capturing the essence of this curious castle-bound collection. Where does the Mercer fit in the greater pantheon of museums, and why is it important to still go see this odd assortment of pre-Industrial tools of trade?

Nostalgia, that much maligned and yet celebrated practice of longing for the past through rose-tinted glasses, is certainly a small part of this collection’s appeal. There are some elements of kitsch. But, this journey to the past that Henry Mercer carefully created is so much more than that. Through the rooms of old confectionary molds, basketweaving braids, and cider presses you can see the effort that was required to create every aspect of human consumption. The sheer ease of our present-day lives is revealed amid these assemblies of typesetting tools and door hinges. In a world of DIY craziness, the Mercer Museum is an avenue for visiting a time when needlepoint was more than just a hobby and when home repairs required more than just a weekend trip to Loew’s.

However, the museum is not finger-wagging its visitors for living in a post-Industrial age. Rather, the Mercer is one giant opportunity to find connections between the shared past on display and the very personal experiences that each visitor carries with them. Looking at the old tobacco shop statues reminded me of a family trip that we took to Wall Drug when I was seven, and I could not help but notice that the bundles of metal strips in the tinsmithing area were reminiscent of the color swatches I used to decide what color to paint my bedroom as we prepared to sell my childhood home. The Mercer Museum challenges you to look at these “everyday” items in a new way, enables you to make almost instinctual connections with the objects in the collection, and provides a time warp between the distant past, the recent past, the present, and the future.

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So, almost a century after its opening, can the Mercer Museum live up to the boastful claims of that newspaper headline from 1916: is this the greatest exhibit in the world? Well, no. In a world where new museums pop up every minute and the latest blockbuster exhibit rolls through every three months, it seems increasingly difficult for any exhibit to lay claim to that title. The museum world has changed drastically since the early days of the 20th Century. At the Mercer there are no high-tech interactives, this quirky collection of tools will never be the latest high profile exhibit on a world tour. Rather, it is in the running for another sort of title all together: most unique exhibit. There is an authenticity to this castle in the country, a very present sense of identity that runs through the concrete walls of the Mercer Museum that makes this collection stand out from all the rest.

Photo by dullhunk via Flickr.

Ah, the museum gift shop. Many a visitor has dropped a penny or two in these lands of postcards and other pretty things. Gift stores are an opportunity to take a piece of the museum, or a piece of the museum experience, home with you. However, they are also battlegrounds of bad behavior. Here’s a handy guide for minding your manners and getting the most out of your gift shop visit.

1. Gift shop workers are there to serve you. They are not your servants. It’s a fine line.
2. Be aware that there are other people in the store. This means that you shouldn’t just stop in the middle of it. This also means that there is bound to be a tall person around to help you reach something on a high shelf.
3. There are no stupid questions, but…it’s a good rule of thumb to think before you speak.
4. Try to put things back where you found them.
5. If you really loved something in the museum, but there’s not a reproduction of it in the store, don’t freak out. Let the gift shop attendants know, they might be able to help or it could be considered for future purchases.
6. Gift shop employees are great sources of information. Don’t hesitate to test their knowledge.
7. Don’t haggle over the price. This is not a bazaar and it’s not like the sales tax was made up on a whim.
8. Mention that you are a member, or inquire if you are eligible for a discount, before the transaction is processed. It saves everyone time.
9. No museum has a catalogue of its entire collection. And, if they did, you wouldn’t be able to get it home. Instead, ask about what books or items come closest to what you’re looking for.

Any rules you think we missed? Let us know in the comments.

Photo by Charlie Phillips via Flickr.

Whew, I finally managed to get through my Google Reader. But, a new problem has arisen. As if the McQueen show at the Met and the Steins Collect show at SFMOMA weren’t enough to get me excited to go to museums this summer, there is now a whole new crop of exhibits to add to my must-see list.

• A Revolutionary Project: Cuba from Walker Evans to Now is a photography exhibit of the island nation before, during, and after the 1959 Revolution. It just opened at the Getty and runs through October 2nd.
• Who doesn’t love a good pirate exhibit? The Museum of London Docklands just launched Pirates: The Captain Kidd Story.
• Speaking of London, the Coningsby Gallery is running an exhibit about the seedier side of the city’s history. It’s called London’s Underworld Uncovered: The Secret Life of the Rookery, and it runs through June 4th.
• Spanish Paradise: Gardens of the Alhambra just sounds lovely. At the New York Botanical Garden through August 21st.
• Football season doesn’t start until the fall, but the Institute of Texan Cultures doesn’t seem to mind. Football: The Exhibit is on show through September 18th.
• Several cities have museums showcasing the works of iconic designers this summer, and Beijing is no exception. Louis Vuitton: Voyages opens May 29th at the National Museum of China.

What museum exhibits are on your must-see list this summer?

My name is Adam Reed Rozan, and I’m a Museum Person.

Tell us a little about yourself.

I am a Marketing Manager at the amazing Oakland Museum of California (OMCA). I have the honor of living and breathing art on a daily basis. But that’s only part of the story. I live in San Francisco and I’m highly involved with the arts community in the Bay Area. I run an arts project called Broken Meter. It’s a full-color, full-bleed ’zine and a celebration of city life—more specifically, urban decay. I think of it as a visual recording of the activity, movement, and energy of the urban environment.

Broken Meter is the misspelled sign, the street preacher, the converted U-Haul cardboard trucks, recycled cans and bottles, the graffiti tag, the covered-up graffiti tagged, the re-tagging of the original piece. In short, it’s everything you’ll find in a natural urban environment seen through the eyes of artists.

Why do museums matter to you?

Museums are special places. They provide a connection with our past and our future. They are the keepers of our culture, and the intersection where we come to share ideas, talk, play, and dream.

What is your favorite museum memory?

When OMCA reopened in April, we hosted an online statewide conversation on California. It was held during the reopening party, and the social media staff members from all of the Bay Area museums as well as the Stanford Mobile Phone Orchestra joined in. We even had museums from as far away as Berkley and Los Angeles contribute. Through the shared hashtag #California we were able to cultivate a conversation between these institutions and thousands of online participants. It was a very powerful experience to be able to connect so many people.

Photo by Loren Javier via Flickr.

Which museum would you love to visit?

My next trip is a weekend in Houston, so certainly the Rothko Chapel. I’ve never been there, but it’s been recommended to me as a place of deep reflection and inspiration. Another museum high on my list is the Menil Collection—not only do the outdoor gardens look amazing, I would love to see the installation of rarely exhibited canvases by Mark Rothko that are closely related to those he painted for the chapel.

Photo by M Glasgow via Flickr.

Outside of that, any opportunity I have to go back to London or Paris to see those cities great museums would be amazing.

I do have a rule for any trip I take. It’s my goal to visit a new museum—especially if I’ve never been to that city or town. With every new visit, I discover something to build out my visual library. It’s a priceless experience.

What is your dream museum job?

My dream job is the Curator of Audience Development and Engagement. It’s an integrated position that strives to increase participation and interactivity with the exhibitions and permanent collection, both in person and online. Museum staff members need to find new ways to engage visitors, and transition our institutions into an active, regular presence in the lives of our audiences. Call it a museum 3.0 approach—the position and the person in it should evolve continuously, something the museum experience is doing already. My dream role takes all of these factors into consideration and seeks out alternative inroads to collections, exhibitions, and museums themselves; ultimately the Curator of Audience Development and Engagement opens up new, innovative experiences that visitors can have in a museum.

When you think of the perfect exhibit, what is in it?

Instead of a perfect exhibit, why not consider a perfect gallery or overall museum experience? Live music in the galleries in the afternoon, adult backpacks with supplies, coffee and Wi-Fi areas, book clubs, yoga … I guess what would make for a perfect experience overall is one that was lively—not whispering in a gallery where you can hear a pin drop.

Who is the funnier museum twitterer…@SUEtheTrex or @NatHistoryWhale?

The answer is option C, the tweets from our Gallery Guides. They’re really funny. Our in gallery staff members use iPads all day at work, so they also tweet through the @oaklandmuseumca handle. Their wit makes them worth checking out.

What is the most random item you have bought in a museum gift shop?

Does a metal cowboy pin from the VMFA store count?

What museum would you move into for a month if you could?

I remember reading a children’s story in grade school about a group of friends who ran away to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, so I would have to say the Met.

Out of all the museums you have visited so far, which one is your favorite?

Great question, but one that’s very tough to answer. I’ve had so many amazing museum experiences at so many different museums that I’m not sure I could answer that definitively. I can say that I always look forward to going to a new museum, and the opportunity to go back to one that I haven’t visited in a while, especially if it’s a trip with good friends.

What is the most bizarre museum you have ever visited?

Bizarre in what way? I live in San Francisco! On Market Street, near the Civic Center is an enormous storefront window with what seems to be an odd movie display for some lost or ancient land. The sign says “Superb Art Museum of America,” and is formed in foam rocks. You can’t visit the museum, but I imagine that it’s pretty bizarre.

Photo by frontenddeveloper via Flickr.

There seem to be a million books and movies set in museums. Do you have a favorite?

The Thomas Crown Affair, but really any movie that set in a museum, I’ll go to.