A museum exhibit is, essentially, a narrative: a presentation of connected objects, events, experiences or phenomena. And as we all know, good narratives don’t tell, they show. The Burke Museum has a history of crafting superb narratives, whether about the story of the dinosaurs as portrayed by genuine dinosaur fossils (the only real ones you can see in Washington) or the richness of our region’s artistic and cultural heritage depicted through an array of modern and ancient tools, carvings, baskets and apparel.
The Burke Museum’s latest temporary exhibit, “We Are Puget Sound,” is a narrative that recounts the efforts of local advocates, scientists and community and tribal leaders to mitigate past and current environmental threats to the Sound, as well as the steps they are taking to safeguard the future of the body of water that encompasses more than 68,000 square miles stretching from Washington to British Columbia.
It’s an important story, but unfortunately the exhibit is all about telling, not showing.
“We Are Puget Sound” centers around a series of wall-mounted placards, each covered with hundreds of words of text. A representative example: “Cassandra Houghton will always remember the day a guest speaker came to her ninth-grade classroom and changed her life,” followed by a photograph of Houghton and three dense paragraphs of exposition. Large-scale photographs are included as well, such as an image of a great blue heron labeled “Great blue herons rely on places like Port Gamble Bay for food and habitat.” However, their subjects are neither interesting, artistic or educational enough to spark more than a glance, nor self-explanatory enough to justify their inclusion. Video interviews are also featured throughout the exhibit space, in which talking heads unsuccessfully compete with one another, forming a background drone of indistinct chatter.
A large nook with a couple of wordy signs, a couch and a handful of books arrayed on a small bookshelf is also included, as if to emphasize this is an exhibit to be read, not experienced. Nearly hidden, high atop the walls of this alcove, are a trio of promising artifacts: a taxidermied bald eagle alongside what seem to be a peregrine falcon and a seagull, each positioned well above the visitor’s line of sight, as if the exhibit curator were ashamed of them. One of the books in this reading space would prove to be the key to the entire exhibit, but more about that later.
There are two significant exceptions to this narrative of pure telling, and only one of them really hits home. In one corner, suspended from the ceiling, is a fishing net loaded with trash. It hangs heavily over visitors, evoking the sensation that you are a fish looking up through the water at a perilous and poisonous payload that might ensnare you. No battery of text is needed to describe the environmental horror of the display. It’s powerful and completely effective on its own.
The other is a large-scale video projection that covers an entire wall. An eerie, green underwater scene appears with a dark half-circle visible at the center, rather like a tunnel. The tunnel is then obscured by a gushing black substance, and the video repeats on a loop. But what is it supposed to represent? There are no clues in the placard that accompanies it, headed “Diver, Stormwater Crusader, and Virtual Guide,” with a photo of scuba diver and filmmaker Laura James. The four-paragraph statement about pollutants that can be found in the waters of Puget Sound reads less like edifying information and more like a biography of James herself.
The Burke Museum is capable of creating dynamic, compelling displays about local environmentalism. Just one floor up from “We Are Puget Sound” is a visually arresting pair of pillars made of layers of dirt and rubbish encased in plexiglass. One tower depicts deposits in a local town dump between 1920 and 1950; the other shows the garbage found in a modern landfill. Instead of lengthy text, a simple graphic labeled “2,100 lbs. per person/year” and the phrase “Comparative measures of Seattle-area trash piles” give viewers all the information they need. Something like this would have been an ideal entry in “We Are Puget Sound.” With a collection of more than 18 million objects to draw from, there had to be something the curator could pull out of storage besides four stuffed birds, a few fish in jars, some nondescript baskets and a couch. The museum’s own mission statement points to a goal of sharing one-of-a-kind objects, both natural and cultural: fossils, Northwest Native art, plant and animal specimens and the like. This is a museum known for engaging visitors — especially kids — not for paragraphs of platitudes hung on walls nor for bland photographs of the natural world rather than the real thing.
It prompts the question: Who is this new exhibit for? And, more to the point, why does it exist? It’s certainly not for children — the few I saw during my visit trotted into the space and right back out again, lacking both the reading skills and the patience to consume text that was both literally and literarily over their heads. It’s not for passionate environmentalists — there’s nothing they will learn from the generic prose and images. And it’s not for the politically apathetic — there’s no compelling call to action, no inspiring incentive, not even a solid fear factor (save for that net of garbage) that would jolt someone into taking action.
So, once again, who is the exhibit for, and why does it exist?
Remember that reading space with the shelf of books? And remember I hinted one of them was the key to the exhibit? That book was titled “We Are Puget Sound: Discovering & Recovering the Salish Sea.” Sound familiar?
Should you be moved to crack the covers of this book (something I don’t recommend), you will discover, on page 62, the words “Cassandra Houghton has never forgotten the day in 2009 when a guest speaker came to her ninth-grade classroom,” followed by the same photograph of Houghton and five dense paragraphs of text. On page 105, you’ll find the same image of a great blue heron captioned “Great blue herons rely on places like Port Gamble Bay for food and habitat.” And on page 133, you’ll see the same photo of Laura James headed by the phrase “Diver, Stormwater Crusader, and Virtual Guide.” It’s clear “We Are Puget Sound” the exhibit is an acutely literal translation of “We Are Puget Sound” the book.
So now the question becomes: Who is the book for, and why does it exist?
“We Are Puget Sound” was published in 2019 by Braided River, a nonprofit conservation-focused imprint of Mountaineers Books. Interestingly, the company’s website does not refer to what it publishes as books but campaigns, noting that “We Are Puget Sound” was created in partnership with the Washington Environmental Council, also known as the Washington Conservation Action Education Fund, an environmental policy group.
Braided River acknowledges its campaigns aren’t entirely about getting books into print: For two decades, it has been mounting exhibits based off its published works. It recently staged one based on the 2019 book “The Salmon Way” at the Seattle Aquarium and another based on 2014’s “Crown of the Continent” in the Senate Rotunda. Images of the exhibits are uncannily similar to what’s on display at the Burke Museum.
Why the museum chose to recreate a book — any book — in an essentially uninterpreted format is a mystery. Last June, the Burke received the National Medal for Museum and Library Service, touted as the nation’s highest honor for museums. The Burke Museum was the only institution in Washington to be selected. This lackluster exhibit feels distinctly out of place in a national award-winning institution.
The Sound is a complex, interwoven network of wildlife both threatened and thriving, as well as environmental pressures, conservation success stories and day-to-day economic realities. Its protection is a vitally important topic: one that deserves an engaging, educational exhibit. The Burke Museum has proven, within its own walls, that it can weave impactful narratives about this very subject. Here’s hoping it gets another chance to show — not tell — us what we need to know about the future of the Sound.
“We Are Puget Sound” is on display at the Burke Museum through Dec. 31, 2023. For more information, visit burkemuseum.org.
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Read more of the June 14-20, 2023 issue.