Three Ways Visiting a Museum* Improved My Wellbeing
* ..a museum, a park, a gallery, a WW1 online map. In one short week, my outlook on life & how I felt just got that bit better thanks to a few timely but transformative cultural experiences.
I had no idea that my first visit to UK’s Science Museum and National Gallery some 30 years ago would shape the types of scientific discovery or work of art that I still enjoy today. That the books and music that consumed me in my teens would provide a platform for discovery over and over again.
Certain books, films, music, pieces of art are anchors in my memory. They are unexpected safe havens.
I have a natural curiosity in these interactions with cultural heritage, these moments in time that contribute to shaping our beliefs, our self-confidence and even our wellbeing. Working for Europeana — where our mission is to transform the world with [digital] culture — it’s my job to help articulate these connections.
I’m exploring ways we can make it easier to narrate how engaging in cultural heritage ‘here’, helps improve the well-being of people ‘over there’.
So it’s funny that during a recent visit to the UK, I was struck by how many events in my week were influenced by having digital access to cultural heritage. And how good they made me feel.
I’d not really thought about it before, not from such a personal perspective. But something about the way I engaged with articles, people, organisations online in the weeks running up to my visit, inspired me to create some new experiences, and relive some old favourites.
I engaged in a bit of local history research
Not a lot, but enough to start conversations with my parents, and my friends, and people I was meeting through work. Amongst the media coverage of the Armistice Day centenary — commemorating the end of World War One — I was charmed by the efforts of Oaklands Primary School students to pay their respects to each of the local soldiers who had fallen.
They were able to determine the identities of the men from the searchable map astreetnearyou.org — which documents 410,000 men and women who died whilst serving in the first world war. Made possible by using location data derived from the digitised public records held by the Imperial War Museum, the Commonwealth War Graves Commission and the War Memorial Register. What started out as a personal project for James Morley to connect the data gathered during the centenary in a meaningful way, it quickly turned into a valuable resource for over 435,000 unique visitors, and a memorable experience for everyone involved.
…the reaction has been truly humbling, with people discovering more about their community, their house, their own ancestors, or simply appreciating the global impact of the conflict in a way they hadn’t before… — James Morley, ‘My viral moment’
With my parent’s house serving as a UK base when we visit from the Netherlands, it was simple to look up their village. I found information about seven young men who died in WW1, including two sets of brothers. My stepmother and I talked about how devastating that must have been for their family, and for the village and how it affected other families she knew of. I talked with my father, my husband and my friends, all of them curious to see what the map revealed to them.
And here it helps if you already believe that access to cultural heritage can be transformative…
I’ve always found WW1 a difficult subject to explore and to appreciate — an overwhelming moment in history to delve into. And so the transformation for me was that it’s not just that I learned a bit about these men, but that it started conversations that I would not have otherwise had — about local history, these young soldiers and their families, and other peoples memories around WW1. And I was more engaged with people around me.
Looking back, it was an unexpected, humbling and rewarding experience.
I fell in love all over again
Thanks to an invitation from impact & innovation expert Prof Simon Tanner to talk impact + digital cultural heritage with his colleagues in the Digital Humanities department at Kings College— I had an opportunity for a day trip to London.
And taking inspiration from an article I’m writing — celebrating the social & economic impact of the Rijksmuseum and their open collections of Dutch national treasures — I was motivated to explore some of London’s national treasures.
Starting with a stroll through St James Park — tucked neatly between Downing Street and Buckingham Palace. The oldest of royal parks long ago earned a place in my heart as a sanctuary from the busy city life thanks to an odd but settling mix of unexpected wildlife roaming its grounds and a regular display of art on public display.
Refreshed and remembering the sound advice I got from Harry Verwayen a few years ago who assured me “there’s always time to visit a museum“ —I’m convinced I can squeeze in a visit to room 34, to spend time with the work of art that stops me in my tracks — before heading off to Kings to talk more about impact and cultural heritage.
Thanks to a UK-wide digitisation project my dear ‘Fighting Temeraire’ is online anytime I want to visit.
In my first visit to the National Gallery in 8 years, it felt shallow to stride past hundreds of years of art history. But I needed to see it in the flesh, to get lost in it, to briefly lose track of time.
And it was absolutely worth it. In just one short visit I felt more connected with my past and more optimistic about my future. I found the painting that first captured my attention in seascapes all those years ago and fondly remembered waiting patiently for my then-boyfriend to meet the challenge of finding me in room 34 of an undisclosed gallery somewhere in the city (he did, we dated, we got married).
I reflected upon how the turmoil of Brexit had unfavourably changed how I felt about my home country, and how in just a few hours immersed in its culture & heritage that change was temporarily suspended.
I had a cracking time visiting a new museum
With some heavy cultural references swimming in my mind from earlier in the week, it was time for a change of pace. And I found that I couldn't stop thinking about the Museum of English Rural Life (The MERL).
After much umming and ahhing and asking myself, my partner and almost every likely museum-goer I crossed paths with:
“will @TheMERL live up to their glorious twitter feed?”
I took the plunge — and off we went on a family trip to the museum.
It’s not just that they’re funny on twitter — and they are — it’s that they are also engaging, and warm, and open with it. In the museum, those attributes were reflected in every nook and cranny.
From the thoughtful placement of a small children's library next to a ridiculously enjoyable gamified exhibit exploring contemporary countryside challenges, to the lady who let my children stand inside the open door of their collections store and gaze up at walls hung with scythes and picks (and I’m sure at least one fox trap) explaining how the glass walls allowed them to be open to all, even when they were shut. I could go on and on and on.
As someone who truly loves museums this visit to The MERL — which quite literally came about because their twitter feed makes me laugh — was refreshing.
I didn’t realise just how long it had been since I had walked into a museum in such excited anticipation, curious and eager to see what it wanted to share with me. Thanks to Europeana I’ve had the pleasure and privilege of visiting a large number of museums, galleries, libraries and archives … and seeing behind the scenes at institutions such as the NYPL Archives and Statens Museum for Kunst. Each one breathtaking, and inspiring in their own unique ways.
And these experiences are punctuated with private tours of many wonderful national treasures throughout Europe, making it really hard to pick just one to emphasise (though the Estonian Maritime Museum goes high up on my list because it is stunning and it has a submarine). Among all these wonderful memories, a local museum with a cracking twitter feed bobs happily above them all.
Immersed in scores of English rural life exhibits, I intuitively left the pressures of work and life behind.
Filling the now-vacant space in my mind was new information and experiences. Creating new memories felt like a relief — I had after all been a little worried it might not live up to its mighty online reputation. And at the end of our visit, I left happy and awash with endorphins from all the fun we had and the laughing we did.
The best bit of all is that my digital experience of The MERL is every bit as rewarding as visiting in person. So I can go back to that happy place any time I like.
I started this article to see if I could articulate how digital access to cultural heritage has had an impact on me, both in the things that I spent time doing, but in how I felt. On reflection, what I’m describing is a series of slow but sure refinements in how I feel, and how I engage with people around me.
It’s been challenging to write, but made a lot easier by the fact that every word that I’ve written has been accompanied by a broad smile, as I recollect happy memories. It feels grand, but impossible not to make this point; cultural participation improves wellbeing. If you don’t believe me, give it a go.
What about you? Has going to a museum, gallery, library or archive had an effect on how you feel? Has something caught your eye online that led to engaging in more cultural experiences?
EOM
📸 A bit about me: I work in a not for profit setting, across a pan European — and sometimes international — network, with remote teams developing and delivering great (and effective) policy.
I write about the impact of digital transformation throughout the cultural heritage sector, what I’ve learned from using agile & lean startup principles and a little bit about my pastime; opportunities to increase civic engagement.
