Neighbors on the Mall
NAMI and NASM Create an Odd Juxtaposition
I went to DC to visit friends and take in spring. The Cherry Blossoms were still short of full glory, but the weather was perfect and the National Mall bustling. I was interested in visiting the National Museum of the American Indian — the inverted mass of swirling sandstone that occupies the triangle between the National Air and Space Museum and the Capitol — so we ducked out of the sun for a few hours to explore.
NMAI’s exterior landscape is intricate and varied; the interior atrium, a kiva blown up to Pantheon proportion, is impressive. The grand stairs and immense gift shops are requisite parts of any contemporary museum experience. NMAI’s exhibits are contextual and dense with text.
We focused on the fourth floor. One gallery, Universes, highlighted the spiritual and social constructs of several tribes strung along the entire Western Hemisphere, while another, Experiences, was rich in artifacts and commentary about the Native American / European encounter — money, disease, weapons, bibles, and treaties.
NMAI opened to withering criticism, and it’s easy to see why. Native American heritage is presented selectively; some tribes receive extensive space while others are absent. Smithsonian curators created cultural groups from each tribe presented and filtered material through the lens of contemporary descendants. Most of the museum’s commentaries are quotes from the coordinators. They reinforce a specific, therefore likely biased, point of view circa 2000 rather than a presentation based on more objective criteria. The result does not seem wrong so much as arbitrary and incomplete. Perhaps that is appropriate, since our view of Native Americans is not objective.
NMAI has a large window that faces the National Air and Space Museum across 4th Street. Although it opened 27 years earlier and a mere hundred feet away, the National Air and Space Museum might as well exist in another era, in another country. I remember visiting when it first opened, thrilled by the majestic wings and incredible rockets. The museum conveyed unrivaled confidence in technology, and by extension, unrivaled confidence in ourselves.
There is nothing confident about the National Museum of the American Indian. It is an exercise in sentimentality, a monument to assuage guilt, a building cozy to the Capitol that celebrates the cultures the U.S. government trampled over; cultures too slow moving, too much rooted in the earth to suit our nation’s frenzy to explore, expand, and conquer.
These are odd neighbors on our National Mall, but they serve a useful duality. The bravado of conquering space is countered by remnant reflections of the Americans whose ancestral roots predate our Founding Fathers.
I was fatigued when we left the Museum of the American Indian; it’s a challenging place. We strolled along the Mall under the glorious spring sun. I stopped and looked back at the two structures, one all cubes and right angles, the other all precarious curves. Each is carefully considered, with its own internal logic, but they don’t look well together. Yet each is an integral part of the American experience.
I wonder if perhaps the next generation might create a museum on the Mall that celebrates the intersection of technical prowess and human dignity. I have no idea where it would fit or what it might look like, but it is the monument we truly need.
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