What's in a Name?
Carey C. Smith, Museum Exhibits Designer

Shakespeare wrote, "All the World's a Stage." and never was there a more apt metaphor when designing exhibits for the San Bernardino County Museum. In fact, theater and museum design share many common traits. In essence, a museum exhibit is a set for inanimate objects. And let's not forget the root of the word museum, "house or place of the muses," where the works of theater, among other fine arts so highly prized by the ancient Greeks, were stored.

Every museum in the world now incorporates some element of theater in its displays and exhibits. Visitors to the recent LACMA King Tut exhibit were treated to an entryway lined with fiberglass golden lotus pillars, each dramatically lit with brightly colored spotlights. Theater! At the Dead Sea Scrolls exhibit in San Diego, guests can walk through a cave and an archeologist's desert campsite complete with props, sound effects, and atmospheric lighting. Theater!

As in the theater, experiential and environmental exhibit designs are an important aspect of an interactive experience. The contemporary museum visitor expects an engaging experience that seems or is authentic. Large spectacle Broadway musicals, theme parks, and Las Vegas casino resorts have contributed greatly to this concept of environments that appear authentic and engage visitors. This interest has led to many theatrically related enhancements to the world of exhibits design, and companies that provided materials and equipment exclusively for performing arts venues now include major museums on their client roster.

The vernacular of museum design is similar to theater design as well. From basic carpentry, lighting, and construction terminology as well as words that are unique to the profession, the shared lexicon of the two worlds further adds to the connection. For example, when a set or an exhibit is under construction it is mounted and then installed. Conversely, museum exhibits are demounted, which is not a theater term, or struck, which is. Every theater practitioner dreads "strike night" when the scenery is either removed to storage or destroyed. Destruction, of course, is not part of the museum lexicon.

If an actor needs to physically operate a working part of the set, such as opening a door or window or turning on a light, that particular object is labeled as practical. In a museum setting, an object or exhibit is interactive if it invites a visitor to press a button or manipulate something in order to further engage with the exhibit.

The success or failure of a good production or exhibit rests with the production team. Every play or exhibit is the result of a talented and committed team of individuals who work collaboratively toward a common goal. The museum's director Robert L. McKernan plays the role of producer. The buck inevitably stops with him. The museum's divisional curators serve as stage directors, for they select the script and determine how the story is going to be interpreted. Like their theater counterparts, they are responsible for casting the talent. In theater lingo talent refers to the performers but in the case of a museum, it is fair to make the analogy that the talent is equivalent to the objects and artifacts put on display.

The designer's (that's me!) job incorporates a myriad of creative positions, from set design, props, budgeting, and costumes, to lighting design. The museum fabricator, Craig Putnam, is an amalgam of most of the theater technical positions including carpentry, painting, construction, sound, and lights. His is essentially the job of stage manager and lead technician rolled into one. And where would a production company or museum be without a talented marketing director to create exciting posters and advertisements to promote the affair? Jennifer Reynolds fills that part admirably. Now that we have our cast of creative characters, it is time to get on with the show.

The opening act of the process is always the same. It starts with a script. In museum terminology this is called the content. Designing an exhibit without knowing the content is akin to designing for Romeo and Juliet without knowing that there is a balcony scene. Content, like a script, drives and inspires the design of the exhibit.

When designing a set, the designer must know the exits and the entrances, and the flow of the environment. How will the actors get from one space to another without obstruction? In a museum exhibit the designer is faced with a similar challenge wherein the museum visitor is now the actor, moving freely through a planned footprint.

In the world of the stage "the play's the thing," but in a museum it is the objects and the artifacts, the content, that captures the conscience of the visitor. Without these, it is just an empty case. A good set, like a good exhibit design, should never upstage the actor or detract from the meaning of the play. It is there to catch the audiences' attention and lure them into the world of the object or the play. Ultimately, as the curtain closes, it is the talent that the audience is applauding and not the set. A good designer knows this and is always happy to stand in the wings and take pride in a job well done.