I disagree somewhat with Julia Moore's take on generalists among curators.
IMHO, a museum needs a balance of generalists and specialists--and/or
perhaps people who embody both the generalist and specialist view
simultaneously. Yes, I've known specialists who gave short shrift to those
portions of their collections which didn't particularly interest them while
they concentrated on the narrow areas of their research and collecting
specialties. But by the same token, I've known some self-professed
generalists (including a few museum directors) who gave short shrift to some
of the more specialized areas of their collections--sometimes whole blocks of
specialties--because they couldn't discern their relevance to their broad
view of what was significant, thereby neglecting some of the real jewels of
their collection. In other words, I find that "genealists" can be every bit
as myopic as "extremely focused" specialists! A museum director once told
me, pointing derisively to an exquisite display of rare, small mechanical
objects in his institution, that he couldn't understand how ANYONE could be
interested in such trivia or minutiae. I found that very sad.
I think it's more than "nice" to have a specialty: I think it's essential. I
agree that the curator must keep in mind what the institution is supposed to
accomplish in terms of its broad goals, but I also think that the director
and the generalist should be mindful of the detailed specialties which their
collections support. Use whatever cliche you like: some people can't see the
forest for the trees, while others can't see the trees for the forest. Both
perspectives are important.
Perhaps some over-zealous specialists have given specialization a black eye.
It's interesting to note how the pendulum swings. I remember when
"generalist" was almost a dirty word; nowadays it's the other way around. As
a "specialist" in some narrow areas myself, I wince when I see the errors of
fact and judgment which some generalists have made about my areas of
specialization. If I have the temerity to point out their errors, they get
defensive--they were too busy making their broad generalizations and sweeping
philosophical pronouncements to bother checking the details. Sometimes, to
be sure, the results may be inconsequential and I'm just nit-picking, but
other times the nits matter. A broad conclusion based on a misunderstanding
or neglect of the details which a specialist can provide risks being just
plain wrong. It can be, in a word, illogical. Generalists should base their
theories on the details which specialists offer. Generalists and specialists
should complement (and compliment--not disdain) each other.
I think scholarship is, at least in part, a detail business. Ignoring
details--and specialists--can result in poor scholarship and sloppy
museology.
A visiting scholar once told me: "There are two kinds of historians, stamp
collectors and story-tellers. I..." (he drew himself up proudly and puffed
out his chest) "...am a story-teller." "Stamp collectors"--in the broad
sense of curators with "narrow" specialties--have traditionally had a place
in museums, and I think they should continue to do so. Ironically, this
incident reminded me of comic books I used to, pardon the expression, collect
as a child many moons ago. This series, whose name I don't recall, was about
stamps, of all things. Each issue highlighted specific stamps and (gasp!)
illustrated the stories behind them. I'd love to have a set of these things,
which demonstrated that stamp collectors CAN understand the broad historical
relevance of the silly little scraps of ephemera they lovingly collect. I
think there are some erroneous assumptions, which border on prejudice, about
the mindset of specialists. Rather than ignoring the specialists on our
museum staffs--or refusing to hire new ones in favor of self-styled
"story-tellers"--let's cultivate them and encourage them to both study their
trees in glorious detail AND find their place in the forest.
(And how many metaphors can YOU mix?)
--David Haberstich
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