This Belongs in a Museum
Bringing you museum-approved grammatical errors and typos since 2010.
Oh, and sorry - I DO NOT FOLLOW BACK!
The Jewish Museum in Berlin was definitely a meaningful experience for a museologist (and half-Jew) like me. But it sounds like their current exhibit “The Whole Truth” is causing a lot of controversy in more ways than one. To help educate postwar generations who are largely uninformed and have no memories of Nazi Germany, various Jewish people sit on a pink felt cushion in a glass box each day and talk to visitors. People ask such questions as “Why are you always causing trouble?”, “Do Jews have big noses?”, “How does someone become a Jew?” and “Can you make jokes about the Holocaust?” Basically it’s like a sequel to one of my favourite Woody Allen films, Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Jews* (*But Were Afraid To Ask). Since the museum opened in 2001, thousands of comments have been collected in its 800 visitors’ books. The curators whittled down 32 of the most frequently asked questions, which serves as the backbone of the exhibit. The most popular question “Are there still Jews in Germany?” is the reason behind the controversial “Jew in the Showcase”. Some believe it to be contrived or dehumanising. The idea of a living Jew serving as a museum display in the former capital of the Nazi Reich has touched a nerve. A woman on the museum’s Facebook page wrote, “Our grandparents and friends spent enough time in boxcars on the way to concentration camps. How dare you!” Some have compared it to Adolf Eichmann in a bulletproof box at his trial in Israel, others are reminded of animals displayed at the zoo. Although it was meant to be educational and thought-provoking, there is more to see than just the “Jew in a box” piece. Throughout the display, literary and documentary voices speak out about the Jewish identity, controversial opinions, social debates, counter questions, and the effects of stereotypical images. There are also a number of historical artifacts. The exhibit runs through September of 2013.
I like to think of myself as a traveler and not a tourist. Three and a half years ago, I wandered the streets of Berlin with no real purpose. Of course I had some ideas of places I wanted to see, but sometimes it’s better to stay away from the touristy areas and see where the day takes you. Yet wherever I seemed to go I was always greeted with stickers, flyers, and postcards (I saved one and of course cannot find it) telling me about the Ramones Museum. Yes, the one and only museum dedicated to America’s first punk rock band exists in Berlin of all places (maybe it has something to do with “Blitzkrieg Bop”?). The first museum was short-lived (2005-2007) due to a landlord tripling the rent, but by 2009 it was once again open (which explains why I saw so much advertising while I was there). Attached to a place called Café Mania with an entrance canopy in a CBGB style, the idea for the museum began twenty-three years ago by Flo Hayler when he saved his ticket stub, poster and t-shirt from his first ever Ramones concert back in 1990. His memorabilia has since grown to more than 300 items. The basement exhibit is arranged chronologically between 1974 through 1996 in two rooms with unpublished photographs, autographed posters and first edition records, the band’s clothes and shoes, random newspaper articles, set lists, hand-written lyrics, and shit from their last ever concert in August of 1996. Everything’s here…even wedding invitations. And something you don’t see in most museums…famous bands have graffitied the walls with their signatures and there’s even a stage for musicians to perform. And of course the place has a facebook and tumblr because this is the world we live in, unfortunately. So what are you waiting for…”hey! ho! let’s go!”
*I dropped my brand-new camera on the fourth day I was in Berlin because I am an unlucky klutz. Therefore, the camera didn’t function for most of that day, which happened to be the day I paid my visit to the museum so thanks to these people (Pete’s Blog, Vloggerheads, Michael’s Blog ) for letting me use their photos. Much appreciated.
When I visited Deutschland (or Germany for non-Germans) a few years back, I noticed their obsession with recycling. Everywhere you looked there was some kind of receptacle for a specific kind of material; blue for paper, yellow for plastic and metals, red for food and plant waste, etc. Glass is even sorted by colour. Anyway, it comes as no surpise to me that Germans are now transforming old flour sacks into art, or at least recognising their historical value. Yep, that’s right. The first Sunday of every month in Ahrensburg, the Flour Art Museum is open to the public. With nearly 3,000 bags from 122 countries in the exhibit, the museum starts with wheat around the world then moves the “myths” of the different cultures, like the story of the Old Wives Mill. In the Symbol Room, the international language of flour-sack symbols is discussed, where visitors learn about the popular motifs of locomotives and lions, and why a camel from Morocco means the same as a dragon in China. Ever heard of a Kleiekotzer? It literally translates to “bran puker”, it was a gargoyle-like mask found in old corn mills that “puked” the separated bran out of its mouth. I WANT ONE! The museum ends with the White Room, a feast for senses, and the Sackotheque, an archive of all the sacks arranged systematically according to their English names of their country of origin. I bet you’re wondering how this all started. Well, back in 1998 owner Volkmar Wywiol (who happens to make industrial baking products for a living) stumbled upon an empty flour sack on the beach in Dubai and thought about its connection with our international cultural heritage. And with that, another random museum was born. And the best part? There’s a book (of course) and if you happen to be a hoarder of old flour sacks, the museum wants it to be part of their collection. So send yours in today!!!
Germany’s car museums (and holy shit are there a lot!) usually feature big names like Porsche and Mercedes. But a little museum in St. Ingbert, Saarland takes the word ‘little’ a bit too far by displaying a different kind of automobile. Last year engineer Stefan Voit opened a museum to exhibit his treasured vintage microcar collection. He has collected more than 50 of them over the last two decades. Initially he was only interested in German models, like a Messerschmitt Cabin Scooter, but he soon broadened his horizons as any crazy collector would. The museum features a 4CV from France, a Bond made in Britain, several Fiats from Italy, a DAF from the Netherlands, a Meister from Austria, and a recently acquired Alvis from the United States. But don’t forget…cars come and go, literally! The museum is a cemetery of dead car brands with examples like Goggomobil, Meyra, Kleinschnittger, Gutbrod, Maico, Lloyd and Fuldamobil. There were so many small cars back then because the people were smaller…or something. Anyway, here’s to small cars! They get good gas mileage, can fit into any parking space, are so light they will most likely be crushed to pieces and if you’re a guy, well, we know you’re probably not overcompensating for a small penis.
After you study and analyse museums intensely for over a year, visiting them on a nearly daily basis, there is nothing that leaves a significant impression in your mind. You feel like you’ve seen it all. Most of the time you’re just plain bored. But that all changed for me (and a friend) about three years ago after a visit to probably one of the most memorable museums I have ever seen. The Museum of Things (Museum der Dinge) sounds like a hoarder’s paradise, but it is actually a well-organized and professional exhibit. (Hey, this is Germany we’re talking about…they know how to do efficiency like nobody’s business!) It reminded me a lot of the Pitt Rivers Museum (see here) as everything was arranged thematically.
Located in the Kreuzberg section of Berlin, the museum is located up several flights of stairs on the third story of a random, hard-to-find building. Such a discreet space appears to be world’s away from Berlin’s main cultural zone of Museum Island, which is a very popular place I might add. Anyway, the museum’s mission is to present “everyday culture” but to revisualize the visitor experience of looking at “things”, like housewares, furniture, knickknacks and other 20th century oddities. Who decides whether something is kitsch, offensive, beautiful or aesthetically valuable? Well, the curator/collector of course. But what if anonymous, purely functional designs are placed next to well-known brands and objects designed by famous artists? If little is offered by way of labelling or information, what does any of this “stuff” really mean?
It’s a lot like early cabinets of curiosities, except modern and sleek. Let’s not forget those collections began not to preserve or teach, but to display some cool-looking stuff. And that’s exactly what you get here. I just remember the place went on and on with a maze of never-ending display cases full of the most random objects, whether it be games, cosmetics, or every personal computer ever made. First, you are looking at Mona Lisa souvenirs, then Disney figurines, followed by a Hitler pillow (I kid you not) and miniature furniture. And next to the main display is a changing exhibition space that covers more specific topics. While I was there it was “Evil Things- an Encyclopedia of Bad Taste”, focused on cheap mass rubbish (with a lot of attention paid to America, guilty as charged!) and even had visitor contributions, which was kinda cool. Hey, if you can keep the attention of two cynical museologists (and one with a PhD no less) for an hour or two who end up discussing the place on the ride back on the U-Bahn (even though we both promised to never talk about museums again) and maybe continue the conversation the next day, then you have succeeded in life. Congrats, Museum of Things! Mission accomplished.
Happy Pride y’all! The Schwules Museum in Berlin was the world’s first gay museum. It opened 27 years ago above Schwuz, a gay nightclub, in the Kreuzberg area of the city and is dedicated exclusively to LGBT topics.
I’ve spent more than a few nights in a hotel room with my mommie dearest, so next time she wakes me up in the middle of the night, well, I know where I’ll be sending her…on the next flight to Germany to take a nap in the Museum of Snoring.
The Alfelder-Schlafapnoe-Gesellschaft (ASG) is the one of the oldest self-help groups for the condition known as sleep apnea. Because they like to help people (hey, that’s what they do), they opened up a museum to display their collection of vintage and modern sleep relief instruments. Luckily, a dedicated physician and sleep specialist named Jospeh Wirth was willing to help out and run the place. Some items in the collection include leather chinstraps attached to mouth coverings (wait…is this an S&M Museum?), various nasal sprays and ointments, vintage humidifiers and buzz zappers to awaken any noisy mouth breathers. The S&M theme continues with a so-called “ear suppository” that is paled into a snorer’s ear to prevent him or her from turning over on his or her side. There is a belt with a metal ball attached to the back to make people stay on their sides. Prosthetic devices where shoved in a mouth to pull the upper jaw to the front by force, while “pinned” noses stretched nostrils for more oxygen. One must ask a few things after visiting a museum like this - Are all these instruments of torture pay back for the pain snorers put their sleeping partners through? And how did people sleep with these things anyway?
And for those who have breathing issues, don’t feel bad…you are not alone. Winston Churchill, Albert Einstein, Napoleon and Johannes Brahms were all snorers.
P.S. Mom, I love you!
With the domination of instagram and digital cameras in the “photography” world, why would anyone print out and frame a picture? I mean, do people still do that shit? With the exception of my cousin’s graduation photo, I can’t think of the last time I framed something. Well, don’t tell that to Berlin resident Olaf Lemke, an antique frame-restorer, dealer and collector. His collection of frames, all 2,400 of them, date from the 15th to the early 19th centuries and are displayed in a gallery exhibit that is open to the public six days a week. He likes to highlight the craftsmanship by leaving the frames empty, which he calls “the ultimate luxury”. Speaking of museums, Lemke thinks most of them get it wrong in that new frames are not suitable for displaying old artworks. For Lemke, “the right frame around a painting is more than just an adornment or accessory. The frame fundamentally affects how a painting is perceived.” Wonder what he thinks of people who display art without a frame? Oh, the insanity!
Once a clothing boutique, now a bank, there’s a building in Chicago’s Wicker Park neighborhood that used to house my family’s sausage store. My grandfather and his brother still made their own sausage long after the place closed. It was open for about 40 or 50 years, now part of the city’s forgotten past. Encased meat still exists of course, but you need a bunch of hipsters and a micro-brewery attached to make it worthwhile. Speaking of butchers, Germany has its own museum dedicated to these slaughterers of animals and sellers of meat. The Germans take this art very seriously, and the German Butcher Museum (located about hundred miles from Zurich, Switzerland) has everything carnivores would ever want to know about animal flesh.
The museum showcases the tools and methods of butchery, with life-size shops from the 1400s to the 1900s to show its history. There is also special attention devoted to the importance of guilds in this ancient trade with a sample guild hall and antiquated documents. Guilds were like unions of yesteryear but emphasized craft skills and aided professional development. And of course visitors can also admire various artwork and figurines (like pigs butchering themselves). But the best part? The museum hosts Schlachtfest (Slaughter Party) every year. Let’s go!
If you happen to find yourself retracing Mark Twain’s boat trip down the Neckar River in Deutschland, consider making a pit stop at the ruined Heidelberg Castle. He did. Unfortunately, the Apothecary Museum (Deutsche Apotheken Museum) was not yet open during his day, but with over 20,000 objects the place is a must-see for any prescription pill-popping Walgreens groupie. The museum has been open for nearly 75 years, which is amazing when you consider there was a war going on at the time. The exhibits thematically cover the history of pharmacy over the last 2,000 years, including a recreation of a 17th century pharmacists office from the Baroque Period as well as a more modern Bauhaus one. People were always looking for a magic pill, even hundreds of years ago, kind of like Kim Kardashian in that QuickTrim commercial. One miracle cure involved mixing unicorns with a universal remedy called “theriac”, a combination of opium, leaven, honey, the flesh of wild beasts and reptiles, dried scorpion and viper. Apparently that shit was available at apothecaries until 1884. Something tells me I’d rather have honey and reptile flesh any day over Kim K’s drug scam. Anyway, if the history of apothecaries doesn’t spark your interest, you can always wander back to other parts of the castle. They have the world’s largest barrel of wine, 55,345 gallons to be exact. Everyone loves alcohol!
