Old World Murder - Kathleen Ernst [52]
“Yeah.” Chloe locked the door, and they headed back down the walk. “But you know, I don’t even know if wallpaper falls into my purview. It might be more of a structural issue. I think I need to talk to the curator of research—what’s her name?”
“Margueritte Donovan.”
Of course Nika would know that. “Come on,” Chloe said, glancing at her watch. “We’re due in the Norwegian area.”
____
An hour later, Chloe stood on the porch of the Kvaale House, facing a dozen interpreters—some new, some veteran. “How many of you have visited some historic site and found that the entire tour consisted of a docent pointing out one artifact after another?” she asked. “‘This settee was made in England … this teapot dates to 1743 … that portrait is of Sir Roger himself’ … et cetera. That’s what I call a furniture tour. If you take just one thought away from our time together today, I hope it’s this: artifacts are most important because of what they reveal about the people who made, owned, or used them.”
She let that thought sink in before continuing. “Let me show you an example.” Chloe nodded to Nika, who held up an 8x10 black and white photograph.
“What do you see?” Chloe asked.
“Some people and a bunch of stuff,” one of the college students said.
An older man took the photo from Nika and squinted at it thoughtfully. “Mid-nineteenth-century people sitting in front of a big frame house, with a sewing machine and croquet set and nice furniture. It looks like that one woman has an unusual collar on … maybe ethnic?”
Chloe nodded. “The shape of that woman’s collar suggests a Norwegian style. Why do you suppose this family dragged furniture outside for the photograph?”
“Well … they wanted to make a record of it.”
“This photograph was taken by a Norwegian-American photographer named Andreas Dahl,” Chloe told them. “I think this family wanted to show how far they’d come since moving to Wisconsin. When they moved from their first cabin into a new frame house, they posed with some of the possessions they were most proud of.”
“We show that transition here in the Norwegian Area,” Delores Timberlake pointed out. “Visitors can learn about a newly arrived immigrant family at Fossebrekke, and a more established family here at Kvaale.”
“Exactly!” Chloe nodded at Byron, who had walked up the drive to join the group. “Here at Kvaale, the ethnic pieces have been largely relegated to display status. They’re no longer being used; the family has new American-made items instead. Your job isn’t to talk about the artifacts themselves, but to tell the broader story.”
Cindy, the frustrated spinner Chloe had met on her first visit to the Kvaale farm, raised her hand. “But sometimes visitors ask about specific artifacts,” she said. “Are you saying we can’t answer their questions?”
“Not at all!” Chloe felt a welcome stir of her old passion for museum education. “Use that piece to help address a bigger interpretive theme. If a visitor asks about the spinning wheel, you can tell them when it was made and how it works. But then go on to tell them about the role of sheep in the Kvaale family’s economy, or the agricultural shift from subsistence farming to diversification, or about gender work patterns in Norwegian families. See what I mean?”
Some of the trainees nodded, some looked thoughtful. “If you use the collections to illustrate compelling human stories,” Chloe concluded, “what you say will resonate with visitors long after they return home.”
Byron stepped forward into the reflective lull. “Excuse me,” he said. “I’ve got copies of the July schedule.” He handed them to the nearest interpreter to pass out. “Chloe, may I have a word?”
“Sure. Nika, why don’t you tell everyone about your textile project?”
Chloe jumped down from the porch and followed Byron a short distance down the lane. “What’s