Day Nine: A Hippo Named William

Kenny
JHU New York Seminar 2018
3 min readMar 23, 2018
Say hello to “William.” Whatever the reason William was chosen as a nickname for this blue faience hippopotamus, representing a female Egyptian hippo deity, continues to elude me.

Of all the objects and images I remember from a childhood spent reading picture books about Ancient Egypt (not only dinosaurs), it’s a faience hippopotamus figurine. Of all the masterpieces I studied while learning AP Art History, many of which are featured in the Met, I felt delighted to see a blue ceramic hippo from Ancient Egypt.

As I browsed the gift shop, I couldn’t help but see that blue faience hippo again. This time, on postcards, totebags, bookmarks, and even as a plushie. And they named it “William.” Looking back at the Ancient Egypt hall, even the label nicknamed it “William”! Back then, all I could remember was how hippopotami were both revered and reviled by the Egyptians, as motherly protectors of their young and as chaotic forces of destruction. How did this little blue hippo not only receive such an incongruous nickname, but become the de facto mascot of one of the world’s largest and most-visited museums?

While I didn’t find the answer when I browsed the Ancient Egyptian galleries, the Met’s website was more than capable of furnishing the answer. Through an article co-written by curators Isabel Stünkel and Kei Yamamoto, I discovered that the nickname came from a humorous story written in the British satirical magazine, Punch. In that particular story, “a certain Captain H. M. Raleigh, wrote that his family owned a framed color print of the Metropolitan Museum of Art hippo and that they had named him ‘William,’” which they not only appreciated for its aesthetics but also consulted as their personal oracle.

This personal moment of illumination was made possible through the Met’s robust online content, the way those webpages are linked through their website, and the fact that the Met’s pages on that subject were the first Google search hits. It’s not the first time I consulted the Met’s wealth of resources online for reference, but after I met with Kimberly Drew and Loic Tallon, I gained a greater appreciation for how such a convenience isn’t to be taken for granted.

From some of my previous experiences with museum websites, they sometimes feel bereft of content or difficult to navigate through, which disappointingly limits their usefulness as educational resources. To make these blog posts and to link them to other pages, including collections searches, they would’ve had to drawn from the museum’s databases (Collections Information), roped in their curators to write a piece in more accessible language (Content), and ensure the website and the tools to make those posts into pages all work (Product Development), not to mention all the cross-developmental work that goes into it.

It sounds similar to the collaborative work that I sometimes witness my staff colleagues at the NHM do when it comes to museum education. When it comes to training, Research and Collections staff would deliver us the main knowledge and Education helps us with interpreting it with visitors. When manning special programming, I’d look to guest relations for assistance and give them a hand with taking ticket stubs. Although much of my examples are more analog than digital, it nevertheless comes from a shared understanding by all parties that they all have the same goal and mission.

Seeing William in the spotlight reminded me about how important it is for institutions, whether making content for their physical museums, websites, social media, or Wikipedia, to ultimately consider their own mission as an institution.

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