Museums and the Art of Storytelling
- Will Duncan
- Aug 15
- 3 min read
Updated: Aug 16
I am an avid museum-goer. Next to travel and hands-on experience, it’s one of the best
ways to learn. They are more interactive than reading a simple textbook. But there is
another level that I hadn’t considered until recently, and that is the role of storytelling in
museums.
It’s easy to allow a cliché term to lose its value, such as “a picture is worth a thousand
words.” I tend to appreciate paintings and photos in museums more, however, when
there are blurbs that help provide additional context for the image. This is especially true
when the blurb focuses less on the timing of the painting or the materials, but on the
subject of the painting.
This is because, at the heart of things, I prefer pictures that can tell a story. I believe this
may be why certain abstract paintings do not hold my attention either. I can appreciate
the ways in which they challenge the status quo, or hold dialogue with other pieces of
art, but I will not study them with the same intensity as an image harkening back to a
Biblical tale, or a Greek myth. In those, I can get lost in the moment, scrutinize the
snapshot in the context of the whole.
A great example of this occurred as I was touring the Auckland Art Gallery during my
first weekend in New Zealand. I came across A Village Fair, by Pieter Bruegel the
Younger. I will never claim that the artistry is the most exquisite, but I found myself
spending more time looking at this image than any other because of the delightful
amount of detail to pick apart. The more time you spend looking at it, the more you see,
from the play going on in the center, to the procession of idols coming from the right
side, to the various forms of merrymaking taking place. Each character has their own
story occurring, and despite its admittedly somewhat clunky style, I could easily
immerse myself in what was happening.
It doesn’t always take a wide-angle lens, however, to tell a vivid story.
One of the tenets of news reporting is to bring the facts and figures down to an
individual level. It’s why journalists usually tell an individual’s story that is indicative of a
larger phenomenon.
I can still remember vividly, though it’s been well over a decade, that the Holocaust
museum in Washington, D.C. would give you a little passport representing someone
who entered a concentration camp, and as you progressed through the halls, you would
discover the fate of the individual you have been designated. It was an effective way to
better immerse oneself and internalize the horrors inflicted on fellow human beings.
It also makes me consider the art of curating a museum. I recall back in 2018, when a
favorite filmmaker of mine, Wes Anderson, curated the Kunsthistorisches Museum in
Vienna. Though I consider him a great storyteller in his own domain, I remember the
reviews of his art curating to be lackluster. It pointed out that not only did he have to
contend with things he was untrained in, such as climate control and other preservation
mechanics, but he also sought to rearrange the artifacts that each had their own unique
story and significance. In the end, he sacrificed context and relevance to put together a
purely aesthetic experience.
This example helps highlight both how challenging museum curation can be, as well as
its significance to the visitors who tour the museum. It takes a well-trained eye to build
up a cohesive narrative to act as a throughline from one room to another and explain
the evolution of time, art, culture, and existence.
So the next time I visit a museum, I may try to take a moment to imagine it as a book,
with each artifact as a character and each room as a chapter. I hope it may help me
understand the silent dialogue taking place, and that I may leave with a deeper
appreciation for what I came to see.
