From private collections to public institutions

In 2003, the world celebrated the fiftieth anniversary of the elucidation of the structure of DNA and, thus, the birth of molecular biology. As this period is now a part of human history, original documents from the founders of molecular biology are becoming increasingly important to scholars, and are being harshly fought over by public libraries and private collectors. Private correspondence, laboratory notebooks, draft manuscripts, meeting and travel notes, and photographs all make up the primary documentation that allows historians to understand how theories and discoveries developed, while revealing details of the complex personalities behind the achievements and their roles in biological research. Arguments over such documents raise the question of whether this part of the common cultural heritage, and, more generally, any historical scientific treasure, should be retained in its country of origin and made accessible to the public, while restricting private ownership. > …original documents from the founders of molecular biology are becoming increasingly important to scholars, and are being harshly fought over by public libraries and private collectors Many of these questions were triggered by the controversy surrounding the so‐called Norman Collection, a huge archive of papers from the main protagonists of the ‘classic period’ of molecular biology, including Aaron Klug, Max Perutz, Rosalind Franklin, Francis Crick, James Watson, Rollin Hotchkiss, Sven Furberg, Sydney Brenner, Max Delbruck and Maurice Wilkins. Rare‐book dealer Jeremy Norman in California put together this scientific trove with the help of Al Seckel, a neuroscientist working at the California Institute of Technology in Pasadena, USA, who personally contacted scientists in order to buy their professional archives. In a few years, and with some US$1.5 million, Seckel and Norman amassed an immense amount of material, including rarities such as Wilkin's personal copy of Watson's controversial draft book Honest Jim , later published in a revised …

This project explores the importance of the preservation of diverse private collections of crafted artefacts, and specifically improving digital access. The focus is on the transformation of an assemblage of 100 Syrian garments held in the United States into a museum-quality, publicly accessible archive. Private collections that are not financially endowed face various challenges, including their culturally valuable content being inaccessible and underseen. The goal of archiving and exhibiting this collection of garments is to share Syria’s dress and craft history as a form of identity, community, economy, artistic expression and technological development. Each item is unique, representing an everyday life that no longer exists. As people moved to new geographical locations, craft traditions were not always carried with them. Consequently, the garments and accessories in this collection feature dyeing techniques, metalwork and symbolic representations of different generations of Syrian people from this ancient to present civilization. Throughout the research process, we learned to synthesize the core issues of contemporary craft heritage management, with an initial goal to build a new digital archiving method and template to benefit small or private collections outside of institutions. First, we determined how to do so using affordable and accessible tools, in line with manageable industry standards. Digital photography, metadata development, object labelling, and anecdotal interviews complement the existing collection information. The long-term goal is the dissemination of the collection through exhibitions, interactive websites, symposiums and publications. Museums are working harder to diversify their collections, and many private collections represent marginalized cultures or do not fit within the established parameters of public institutions. This study touches upon the disparate and specific needs of private versus public collecting, and how to bridge some of the gaps using standardized digitization techniques towards similar preservation and outreach goals.

Private collectors have a long history of generous donations to cultural heritage institutions, but donors and said institutions have had a contentious relationship. Both private collector and institution have a different relationship to the objects in the collection and this is reflected in the narratives attached to them, which can create tensions between the private collector and the public institution that accepts the donation. Film memorabilia collections and donations are subject to these very same tensions, but they have not been discussed at length in academic literature. This thesis examines the “Rob Brooks Mary Pickford Collection” at the TIFF Film Reference Library (FRL). It assesses the emotional narrative of the collector, Rob Brooks, who as a private collector gifted his collection, as well as the aims of the cultural institution, the narratives that are attached to the collection once it received, and how touring the collection may change that narrative.

Private collectors have a long history of generous donations to cultural heritage institutions, but donors and said institutions have had a contentious relationship. Both private collector and institution have a different relationship to the objects in the collection and this is reflected in the narratives attached to them, which can create tensions between the private collector and the public institution that accepts the donation. Film memorabilia collections and donations are subject to these very same tensions, but they have not been discussed at length in academic literature. This thesis examines the “Rob Brooks Mary Pickford Collection” at the TIFF Film Reference Library (FRL). It assesses the emotional narrative of the collector, Rob Brooks, who as a private collector gifted his collection, as well as the aims of the cultural institution, the narratives that are attached to the collection once it received, and how touring the collection may change that narrative.

In 1982 Carol Dickerman and David Northrup published a useful article on Africa-related archives in Belgium. Their work was limited, however, to two public institutions in Brussels which, in the past 12 years, have moved and grown. What is needed now is a more up-to-date and comprehensive list of Belgian public and private collections with historical or ethnological archives concerning Africa.In Belgium such archives are unfortunately not grouped in one place, but are spread over a dozen public and private institutions according to their nature—diplomatic, military, religious, ethnological—or origin. Thus the foreign researcher who attempts to find these archives must often undertake trying adventures, and once they have succeeded, they still must obtain numerous authorizations to use reading rooms and to consult and photocopy documents. Thus this paper aims to list the different Belgian institutions with major archives, to indicate what is available in their collections, and to describe how to gain access, in the hope that foreign researchers will be able to benefit fully from the archival riches of Belgium.The Africa-related documents in Belgian archives and libraries mostly concern Central Africa in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. In addition, some collections are relevant to Belgian African politics in general and to Leopold II's expansionist aims in other parts of the continent.

The destruction and looting of cultural heritage in the Middle East by terrorist organizations is well-documented by social media and the press. Its brutality and severity have drawn international criticism as the violent destruction of heritage is classified as a war crime. Efforts have been made to preserve objects against bombing and destruction, as archaeologists and other volunteers safeguard sites prior to assault. There is also precedent for prosecuting heritage destruction via national and international tribunals. In term of looting, black-market antiquities provide a revenue stream for ISIS; therefore, efforts must be made to stop this harmful trade. Governmental agencies have taken actions to prevent funding through antiquities. Public institutions have a role in safeguarding looted works by providing asylum to them without fueling the black market. At the same time, private collectors must also not purchase any items from the black market. Through education and enforcement of legislation intended to protect cultural heritage, it may be possible to reduce the market for looted antiquities.

The pattern of museum growth in America has been exactly the opposite of what took place in Europe. In Germany, Austria, France, England and the other European countries, the private collections came first and public museums developed from them. In America, public museums were in being many years before the great private collections began to be formed. It is true that during the present century many of the private collections have either been bequeathed to existing museums or transformed into public institutions, so reproducing a process which had been in evidence more than a century before in Europe; but by then the American idea of a museum established for the benefit of the whole community had struck deep roots.KeywordsSocial HistoryPrivate CollectionInternational ExhibitionSeason TicketPublic MuseumThese keywords were added by machine and not by the authors. This process is experimental and the keywords may be updated as the learning algorithm improves.

Reviewed by: Oceania Safua Akeli Amaama Oceania. Royal Academy of Arts, 2909 1012 2018 London, uk. In December 2018, as part of the Pacific History Association ( pha) Conference program, participants visited the Oceaniaexhibition at the Royal Academy of Arts in London. Curated by Nicholas Thomas (University of Cambridge), Peter Brunt (Victoria University of Wellington), and Adrian Locke (Royal Academy of Arts), the central display was located in the main galleries at Burlington House. For the conference audience traveling to the United Kingdom from Polynesia, Micronesia, and Melanesia, expectations for Oceaniawere high, particularly in terms of its success in contextualizing stories, objects, and cultural histories. How would Oceaniaengage audiences with stories relating to the diverse Pacific, and what factors would influence the complementing but also competing and contested narratives? Drawing global media attention, the opening was attended by Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Sussex, with major outdoor performances by Pacific Island groups from around the region. Although the exhibition marked 250 years since Captain James Cook navigated the Pacific, Oceaniasought to highlight Indigenous stories, like those of Tahitian navigator Tupaia, who had traveled with Cook. The scope of the exhibition was far-reaching, with objects drawn from public institutions in New Zealand, the United Kingdom, France, the Netherlands, Denmark, Australia, and Germany, though some, such as photographs by Mark Adams, were sourced from private collections. However, that these public institutions are located mainly in the northern hemisphere indicates the complex changes that have occurred in terms of the extension of space, place, and people in Oceaniaas these objects have traveled. In this way, Pacific Islanders' involvement in the exhibition was limited to engagement with collections housed in these institutions. Access to the collections usually involves institutional collaboration and dialogue with communities, and it is unclear how this was managed for the exhibition. The 169 objects on display explored six key themes: voyaging and navigation, making place, the spirit of the gift, performance and ceremony, encounter and empire, and memory. The most moving theme was that of "making place," which included an assortment of spiritual figures representing various Pacific Island places such as Sāmoa, Rapa Nui, the Torres Strait Islands, Papua New Guinea, the Austral Islands, and the Caroline Islands. For instance, a wooden female figure from Amaile village in Sāmoa had been acquired by a missionary in 1839, and its presence evoked for me intangible connections to my mother's village. Display methods varied, with some objects placed in crowded or difficult to view cases or modern "cabinets of curiosities," thus continuing problematic museum practices, and other, larger pieces such as canoes placed in central, open areas, enabling a close view of their dimensions and craftsmanship. In many respects, the outdated exhibition style and display techniques evoked mixed feelings, ranging from curiosity and respect to confusion and alienation. [End Page 278]Despite containing a diverse range of objects including digital and mixed media, the exhibition left visitors to wonder about the deeper narratives foregrounding these objects and their significance, since many of the display labels provided limited information. Oceaniawas a collective space encompassing centuries of exchange and interaction, thus raising the question, to what degree can a space illustrate the depth, scope, and complexity of Oceania? The ambitious exhibition captured complex snapshots of places, spaces, and peoples. Compared to the aforementioned larger themes, for me, the exhibition also denoted some other, recurring themes concerned with representation, loss, change, identity, and continuity, particularly when the contemporary works were placed in dialogue with the historical objects. Often the latter conveyed very modern forms and identities. Works by established artists such as Lisa Reihana and Yuki Kihara and the haunting life casts produced by Fiona Pardington added another layer of complexity by incorporating digital and visual modes of display. According to the Royal Academy of Arts, as a diverse space, Oceaniarepresented Indigenous "histories of inter-island trade, ocean navigation, and social and artistic traditions." However, its inclusion as part of the academy's anniversary celebration raises the question of how the institution, with its long imperial and colonial history, is coming along in terms of its approach to the voices and experiences...

The article studies private collectors’ impact on public cultural institutions. The research discovers historical evidence and reasons for the emergence of the collecting activity. It looks through evolution of the private collecting, the role of collectors in the founding and growth of public museums, from ancient civilizations up to the present. By means of historical analysis identified the progress of collecting activities, compared and revealed both different and similar features with museology phenomena.Vivid examples of collecting were found in all significant periods of human history. The results show active role of collectors in shaping consciousness of humankind, its social and cultural values, as well as close relationship of collectors with museums.The article is also focused on modern forms of interaction of collectors and cultural institutions. As such, expansion of institutional collections witnessed prolific and diverse cooperation with private collectors: from the philanthropy, sponsorship and patronage of museums, exhibitions, art fairs, commissioning of artists, to the transfer of personal acquisitions in favor of museums; or launching of the own cultural institutions, which later gain worldwide recognition. The article provides a number of examples and facts, which reflect the diversity of cooperation on the basis of collectables. It admits the role of private collectors in founding and developing of both national and global cultural institutions, and on the popularization of art in general.

Click to increase image sizeClick to decrease image size Notes See Gilles Deleuze, ‘Post‐scriptum sur les sociétés de contrôle’, in Pourparlers, Editions de Minuit, Paris, 1990. Lucy Lippard, Six Years: The Dematerialization of the Art Object, 1973, republished in 1997, University of California Press. This project was undertaken in the wake of Douglas Crimp's book, which laid the foundations of an archaeology of the museum by using as a model Foucault's analyses of the mental home, the clinic, and the prison. See Douglas Crimp, On the Museum's Ruins, MIT Press, Cambridge, MA, 1993. Michel Foucault, Surveiller et Punir [Discipline and Punish], Gallimard, Paris, 1975, p. 311. Ibid, p 306. Ibid, p 308. Ibid, p 314. Robert Nickas, ‘Private Collection’, 1991, republished in Live Free or Die, Les Presses du Réel, Dijon, 2000, p 64. Robert Smithson, ‘Cultural Confinement’, originally published in Artforum, October 1972, republished in Nancy Holt, ed, The Writings of Robert Smithson, New York University Press, 1979, pp 132–3. See Hal Foster, ‘The Archive Without Museum’, October, no 77, Summer 1996, pp 97–119, and Douglas Crimp, ‘This is Not a Museum of Art’, in Crimp, op cit, pp 13–16. Didier Maleuvre, Museum Memories: History, Technology, Art, Stanford University Press, Stanford, 1999, p 11. Hubert Damisch, ‘Le Musée à l'heure de sa disponibilité technique’, in Cahiers du MNAM, special issue, ‘L'Art contemporain et le musée’, 1989, p 25. Ibid, p 28. Ibid, p 28. Crimp, On the Museum's Ruins, op cit, p 287. On this issue of the in‐situ understood as a material and discursive place, see Crimp's chapter ‘Redefining site specificity’ in On the Museum's Ruins, op cit; Frazer Ward, ‘The Haunted Museum: Institutional Critique and Publicity’, October, no 73, Summer 1995, pp 71–89; Miwon Kwon, ‘One Place After Another: Notes on Site Specificity’, October, no 80, Spring 1997, pp 85–110. Dan Graham, ‘Interview with Ludger Gerdes, 1991’, in Two‐Way Mirror Power, MIT Press, Cambridge, MA, 1999, p 70. See, for example, Surveiller et punir, p 313, and Baudrillard's reproach that Foucault failed to discern the disappearance of the panoptic system and its ideal of total transparency in a generalised social dissemination/distribution of the medium comes from a misunderstanding. Jean Baudrillard, ‘La Précession des simulacres’, in Traverses, no 10, 1978, Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris, pp 27–8. Deleuze, ‘Post‐scriptum sur les sociétés de contrôle’, op cit, p 243. Ibid, p 245. See Luc Boltanski and Eve Chiapello, Le Nouvel Esprit du Capitalisme, Gallimard, Paris, 1999. Ibid, p 131. Fabrice Bousteau and Jean Poderos, ‘Interview with Catherine Trautman, ministre de la culture’, Beaux‐Arts, no 165, February 1998, pp 95–9. Boltanski and Chiapello, op cit, p 127 ff. See Boltanski and Chiapello, op cit, p 237 ff, as well as Manuel Castells, La Société en Réseaux I – L'ère de l'information, Fayard, 1998, and Jeremy Rifkin, The End of Work, 1996. See Bernard Marcadé, ‘L'in situ comme lieu commun’, art press, no 137, June 1989. Benjamin Buchloh, Sculpture Projects in Münster', Artforum, 36:1, September 1997, pp 115–17. Daniel Buren: ‘The museum, as I first saw it in the 1960s and 1970s, was essentially a place of promotion. Its increased numbers caused it to lose its aura. Now the fact of exhibiting in a museum no longer hallows anything whatsoever… To regain its promotional function, the museum will have to reinvent itself differently, because today, where its power to stand out and impose itself is concerned, it is shattered’. See his interview with Catherine Millet, ‘Daniel Buren, esquiver les allégeances’, art press, no 219, December 1996, p 63. Lionel Bovier and Christophe Cherix, ‘De l'Alternatif à l'Indépendant’, Les Espaces Indépendants, JRP Editions, Geneva, p 15. Smithson, ‘Some Void Thoughts on the Museum’, in The Writings of Robert Smithson, op cit, p 58. In developing the same idea, readers may also refer to ‘A Museum of Language in the Vicinity of Art’ (‘language becomes an infinite museum, whose center is everywhere and whose limits are nowhere’) and ‘The Establishment’ (‘The circles of power become more and more intangible as they move to the edge of nowhere’), republished in the same collection. Michel Foucault, ‘Dialogue sur le pouvoir’, in Dits et Ecrits, vol III, Gallimard, Paris, 1978, pp 464–77. Eric Troncy, Report on the ‘Life/Live’ exhibition, Paris, in art press, no 219, December 1996. Bovier and Cherix, op cit, pp 17–18.

Given the catalogue of natural calamities and physical privations experienced by the subjects of this volume – not to mention the hostility suffered at the hands of their fellow men on land and at sea – it seems little short of miraculous that private collectors and public institutions were able to benefit to the extent they did from the efforts of travelling naturalists in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Scarcely one of the voyages recorded here proves less than epic in scale and achievement, so that Glyn Williams’s survey provides a powerful antidote to any misplaced perceptions of outmoded irrelevance associated with specimens from the early phases of the history of collecting: they form, rather, precious relics from what was truly the heroic age of natural history exploration. Much of this eminently readable distillation, culled from the journals, notebooks and published works of early field-workers – explorers as much as naturalists – concerns itself with the problems they faced on multiple fronts, rather than with the scientific advances to which they might lay claim. Trouble arose from the very outset of most expeditions, for few of them had natural history at the top of their agenda: mostly their primary mission would involve surveying and hydrography. Navy ships often proved less than congenial to the scientists: service crews at every rank proved resentful to civilian interlopers who evaded the rigours of naval discipline, who unsettled routine life on the ship and who made incessant demands both for the limited space available on board and for access to shore transport.

In the lively context of the European art market of mid-nineteenth century, Austen Henry Layard (1817-1894) played an active role both as a private collector and advisor, and equally as a trustee and unofficial travelling agent for London museums. Thanks to his extensive travels throughout Europe and the Middle East, he became acquainted with the most eminent figures of the art world and was able to purchase a great assortment of art objects, ranging from Cypriot pottery to Renaissance paintings, from Spanish religious artefacts to Burgundian tapestry. In order to analyse the cultural and economical implications of these relocations, this paper examines the relations of this network within the European connoisseurship, the formation of Layard’s personal collection and his contributions to private and public institutions.

‘Made in Switzerland. The Photography Collections of the Swiss Confederation’ was an exhibition organized by the Swiss Federal Office of Culture and hosted by the Musee de l'Elysee in Lausanne in 1997. The exhibition officially confIrmed that the Swiss are at last beginning to recognize the value of their national photographic heritage. Official efforts concerning the conservation of photographs have until recently consisted of the preservation of architectural documents by the Federal Archive for the Protection of Monuments in Bern and of the rather limited activities of the Swiss Foundation of Photography, located in Zurich since 1971, which has primarily focused on professional reportage. Two private collectors, however, have been discreetly active for over three decades amassing thousands of photographs, albums, cameras, and books on photography, thus safeguarding material that might have been lost or destroyed due to the general lack of interest shown by public institutions. Michele and Michel Auer, two photography encyclopaedists living in Hermance on Lake Geneva, and Ruth and Peter Herzog in Basle have assembled the two largest private photography collections in Switzerland. But whereas collecting is an extension of the professional work of the Auers, Ruth Herzog-Wyss, a book dealer, and Peter Herzog, a lawyer and art expert, are amateur collectors.

La Real Fábrica de Sargadelos (Cervo-Lugo), uno de los centros cerámicos de referencia en el panorama industrial del siglo XIX en España, introdujo en su tercera etapa (1845-1862) una nueva serie decorativa en la que el motivo principal reproducía, mediante la técnica de estampación, distintas escenas del Quijote. Considerada por muchos como una de las más interesantes de su producción, utilizaron como modelo iconográfico para su elaboración los dibujos que el pintor e ilustrador inglés John Gilbert (1817-1897) realizó para una edición londinense de la novela publicada por Charles Daly en 1842. Como ejemplo de esta variante se conservan en la actualidad un número de piezas que no supera las noventa entre colecciones particulares e instituciones públicas, destacando en el segundo caso el Museo de Pontevedra con diez ejemplares.

Of the three arts forms - poetry, prose fiction, and drama - drama is still the Cinderella of South African literature. nineteenth century produced only two real plays, and rather poor ones at that, while the first half of the twentieth century, though it produced many more, offers few that are likely to survive on merit. Indeed it has been suggested that The rise of the cinema at the beginning of the 20th century, particularly in the years following the First World War, meant from about 1925 till 1945 nearly complete disappearance of English professional drama in South Africa. 1 In the years thereafter, however, there has been a resurgence of productivity, particularly in plays we might categorise as Political, Social Problem, and Propaganda. renewed effort in this area of our national literature suggests the latent promise of a Cinderella even as it reflects the neglect: there is, for example, no public or university library in the Transvaal that holds such recent and significant dramatic works as Alan Paton's Sponono, Basil Warner's Try for White, or Arthur Ashdowne's Squadron X. That list could be expanded considerably, and doubtless many of these are held in private collections, but my point - even my plea is that these monuments of our national heritage deserve preservation by our public institutions. For, if I am right, and not too fond a dreamer, our recent productivity gives every promise of a renaissance in South African drama in English. My dream and my plea run counter, of course, to an opinion shared by many, namely the probability that there is no such thing as South African literature in English - much less drama - or, if there is, then because of the language medium it belongs to the tradition of English literature. This view was upheld in the nineteen thirties, for instance, by the late Professor J. Y. T. Greig, one of our most eminent literary scholars, who then so clearly delineated the problem of defining a national literature that his remarks are worth quoting at length: