[Last modified: October, 30 2024 04:37 PM]
As much as I love seaweed and herbs, this assignment called for something different. When we were finally freed from the confines of the IOE building, I admit my first thought was that I needed coffee. I took a stroll to find a café and stumbled across a Japanese art exhibition on the SOAS campus. Suddenly, coffee could wait. I was curious about how people interacted with and moved through a museum space—especially students, who are often on the move or in a rush.
I entered the exhibition, giddy and ready to take notes in my little pale blue notebook. However, my excitement quickly waned when, after five minutes, no one else entered the exhibition. Disheartened that my idea had been dashed, I began to think on my feet. How could I get a sense of how people interacted with a museum without physically observing anyone or talking to them? The visitor book! Luckily, there was one filled to the brim with anecdotes and expressions of gratitude from visitors.
I’ve found that in anthropology, it is essential to be flexible, open-minded, and adaptable. Although not my original plan, the visitor book became my insight into people’s relationships with this specific exhibition. Visitors left notes in pen, mostly scribbled erratically—diagonally, straight, in waves, and even upside down—on what were once yellow-tinted blank pages. Different handwriting styles made each page seem like a work of art. Many people wrote about nostalgia, expressing how the exhibition reminded them of their homes in Japan. Others left complimentary notes featuring keywords such as “beautiful,” “meaningful,” “well presented,” and “emotional.” I didn’t come across any negative reviews, although there were a few that seemed disconnected from the exhibition, such as one person writing, “Don’t drink milk on your wedding day—it’s bad luck.” (I researched this claim but found no trace of it, unless, of course, you’re lactose intolerant.)
I found it interesting that for each review, I imagined the person mentally as I read their quotes; their words came alive as if they were speaking to me. It made me wonder how thoughts and feelings about a museum can gain permanence through visitor books. These books act like time capsules, allowing visitors’ perceptions, emotions, and thoughts to be documented and read by others.
I noted their words, sketched the layout of the exhibition, and doodled the paintings that the quotes referenced. I also sketched what I imagined people might look like alongside their quotes. This helped me bring life and visual context to the scene and introduced me to a new form of ethnography and a way of researching that I could use in the future.