Casts of Antinoos, Emperor Hadrian’s young lover

Size matters — and other questions about user-museum interaction

Henrik Holm
SMK Open

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“Why is his willy so small?” This is one of the truly frequently asked questions at The Royal Cast Collection, a part of the national gallery in Denmark (Statens Museum for Kunst). And indeed the size of statuary genitalia is also one of general public interest. In short, this is an excellent question, and one that we ought to let a doctor, an art historian and a sculptor answer. But the outline of the SMK OPEN project, that we have just launched states that: “Users can also comment on works of art themselves, contribute their own information and insight or enter into a dialogue with the museum’s professionals.” http://www.smk.dk/en/about-smk/who-are-we/camp00/ But what does it take for that to happen? Who goes first?

I can’t imagine creating a participatory and community-building museum without knowing what the users are interested in, taking my starting point in how their interests can coincide and intersect with the museum’s professional and academic expertise. Since 2010 I have run the Royal Cast Collection in accordance with the terms and premises set out by Nina Simon in her book The Participatory Museum, also from 2010. In a participatory museum the professional expertise of its staff is a necessary backdrop and foundation for all that goes on there, but the users’ needs and interests take centre stage. So if I want to tell the world why this collection is important I might choose to open with this question of penis size, promising that you will get some answers and additional food for thought if you paid us a visit.

Regarding size

On the discussion pages of the Danish medical website netdoktor.dk you can find doctors’ answers to distraught young men who worry about the size of their members (http://www.netdoktor.dk/interactive/discussion/viewtopic.php?t=20695&f ). Most are comforted by the information that the human vagina is only 12 cm long, so everything will be all right. The popular science journal Illustreret Videnskab (Science Illustrated) informs its readers that the largest specimens can be found in Congo (http://illvid.dk/mennesket/kroppen/penis-faa-overblik-over-stoerrelsen-blandt-verdens-maend). An art historical reply to the question might go something like this: In what is sometimes called the cradle of Western culture, ancient Greece, boundaries and other landmarks were marked out by herms (AKA herma) where the male member was visible, even in erect form. Herms served a so-called “apotropaic” function: they were intended to ward off evil, but were also worshipped as fetishes. The chaste Vestal Virgins of Roman culture guarded penis figures that protected the city. They hung a penis underneath the chariots of triumphant generals, and many wore phallus amulets known as “fascinum”. All of these effigies were intended to ward off the evil eye or envy, and to give male wearers strength and virility in every sense of the term. In his psychoanalytical theories, Jaques Lacan compares the fascination of looking at genitalia with the experience of being captured by a work of art, enraptured and placed in a state beyond reason, closer to death.

A single, simple tactic

In my own co-creative version of a participatory museum I employ a simple tactic: those who get involved also get to change the exhibition. As yet, the target group of these interventions have been students from many different fields. So far, they have had other interests than the visitors looking at genitals. But if they were, we would allow it. My experience is that when you seek out others and offer them the opportunity of making changes to the use, display and presentation of a museum collection they respond by being surprised, touched, and highly committed.

The projects arranged under the common heading SMK² involve a range of artists and others who engage directly with Denmark’s largest collection of art. The ULK art labs made the SMK fountain spring red like menstrual blood for an SMK Fridays event called “Body, Gender and Pussy” associated with the Golden Days festival and its 1970s theme (23.09.2016). Students from the design school Textilskolen in Holte took over the Cast Collection at the Culture Night event on 14 October. Opening up a collection in such ways contributes to dialogue and interaction.

An experiment

SMK is currently undertaking a trial run of having so-called “Art Hosts” conducting guided tours on Sundays, interacting with audiences and answering any questions. We have tried having museum guides at the Royal Cast Collection too, acting as hosts and ready to answer all relevant questions. The visitors were obviously pleased to be well received, but only very few questions were forthcoming. That was hardly surprising, really. Most visitors want to look at the art in peace, taking in the works and speaking with the people they are there with. When they do actually approach us with questions, they often turn to the guards or ask their questions after the end of a guided tour. This is how I know that the question of penis size is of considerable interest to many.

What do you think it takes?

The SMK OPEN projects states that an online forum must be set up to facilitate an ongoing dialogue with the works in the SMK collection — and this presents us with a challenge. SMK is already replying to many kinds of questions from the outside world. We make works available for online use, offering open licences and free downloads. Of course, we might collect and record the various questions that visitors ask right now, forming an overview of the most frequent inquiries. We might set up a FAQ list on our website, and we could possibly establish a reply service like the one found at the Netdoktor site. But I’d like to ask you what you think it would take to keep a dialogue about a given work vibrant and alive?

Oh, and we still need a sculptor’s reply to the question of size: the small size is deliberate, prompted by a wish to ensure that the viewer’s attention does not fall on the genitalia, but on the totality of the work. It would seem that these efforts were in vain.

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