Framework for Constructing a Legacy

 I visited the archives alone this week and spent a lot of time in silence with the histories of others. I was finalizing a curation for my group’s exhibit on Notable People and pulling photos, essays, commentaries, and work that ‘proved’ someone’s importance. It’s slow work because it’s hard to discern what makes someone worthy of remembrance – Where does their importance come from? What makes someone’s past a legacy, and then what makes that legacy special? Who determines these things? How do we accurately gauge impact, to then accurately represent the principal parts of our school’s history? They’re large questions with complex, contextual, and varying answers, but our readings on embodiment and curation are helpful guides for my group’s research, so we don’t get too lost in an ocean of contemplation. 

Our bicentennial exhibit’s status as a museum display connects our work intimately with Robyn Autry’s theories on how museums build metanarratives of group identity in “The Political Economy of Memory: The Challenges of Representing National Conflict at ‘Identity-Driven’ Museums.” Museums are sites of memory, first and foremost, that direct emotions and tell stories of our past. Because of this, museum exhibitions build a selective interpretation of the past that pushes forth a metanarrative of group identity. In Autry’s work, she focuses on identity-driven museums that build narratives of the African American experience. Citing institutions like the King Center in Atlanta, Georgia, and the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis, Tennessee, she finds that these museums share a sense of continuity in the metanarrative they tell, and they typically leave the audience with feelings of pride by constructing a “celebrated past” through their symbolic representations of history. Autry also notes the constraints exhibitions encounter. Competition for resources, like funding and public engagement leads older museums to falter whereas newer museums continue to grow. This can have negative impacts on the intentions of museums and can change the metanarrative they push, affecting how their audiences remember the past after they view the exhibit. 

Having a theoretical framework for the work my group is doing is helpful when we feel lost. Going into the archives, I felt overwhelmed with choices. One of my smaller tasks was pulling a picture of Paul Newman for our exhibit that best symbolizes who he was, what he stood for, and how he served the Kenyon legacy. I likely encountered 25 photos of Newman from various phases of life and eventually settled on a small, intimate, handsome portrait of him from his younger days. Autry would say that this selection contributes to the metanarrative of Newman and directs the audience’s emotions toward feelings of respect and admiration. It contributes to the continuity of Newman’s reputation and makes the audience feel closer to, and more knowledgeable of, Newman in his younger days, as Kenyon knew him. She would also call this an act of constructing the past, as to represent Newman in his ‘glory days,’ so to speak, leaves the viewer with a sense of pride in both his abilities and Kenyon’s role in his legacy. It’s a vastly different contextual exhibit than those Autry focuses on, but her intricate attention to the importance of exhibitions in building metanarratives is valuable to keep in mind as a framework to follow. When lost, it’s helpful to remember to remain intentional and think about the story pushed forward from every choice you make. We run into conflict, and Autry notes this, when we think with political and economic motives, though unfortunately, it’s inevitable with large institutions. What I take from Autry’s reading is the importance of intention and care in representation, so I’ll operate with that at the forefront from now on.