Providence’s RISD Museum A Sanctuary for Objects and Visitors Alike
My visit this week to a particular “sanctuary” was less the outcome of my own formulation of this term and the sort of spaces it denotes, and more, a decision to engage in an apparent debate about the relationship between sacred objects and sacred spaces. When reading J. Z. Smith’s book earlier in the semester, I was struck by his assertion that the components of ritual – objects, texts, music, and so forth – are exceptional only for the context in which they participate. In his words, “The sacra are sacred solely because they are used in a sacred place; there is no inherent difference between a sacred vessel and an ordinary one (Smith 1992, 106).” Smith understands sacred places and rituals to be mutually constitutive, and sacra as the mere accoutrements of complex relational systems.
Somewhat to the contrary, Colin Renfrew’s method for identifying religious spaces in the archaeological record is contingent upon artifacts with religious character or functions. He sees objects as integral components of religion, capable of transmitting information about the practices and systems of meanings in which they were used. Although Renfrew advocates a systematic and complex approach to interpreting ‘religious’ sites, ancient shrines and sanctuaries are intelligible namely by the objects that herald their presence.
While sacred objects were not of primary importance in such contexts, they were essential to and inseparable from religious sites both in antiquity and now, in modern analysis. Proposing more rigorous criteria for defining certain spaces as sacred, Renfrew writes: “This rather laborious demonstration of the sacral character of the sanctuary might seem a shade superfluous, in view of the richness of the finds. But there are so many cases in the archaeological literature of buildings entirely lacking in cult objects being hailed as shrines, and of the same claim being made for assemblages of cult objects without any associated building or other indication of their mode or place of use, that a necessary first step must be the demonstration that the putative shrine does in fact fulfill the criteria laid down in Chapter I (Renfrew 1985, 368).”
In critiquing the imprecision with which archaeological artifacts and/or sites have been classified as sacred, Renfrew proposes that the constitution and efficacy of sanctuaries was contingent upon the cooperation of object assemblages and places. Smith and Renfew are participating in different discourses, and their ideas about the relationship between sacred rituals, places, and objects are the product of their respective objectives, assumptions, and evidence. In the former, sacred objects and places are the arbitrary manifestations of relational systems. In the latter, sacred objects denote and encode essential information about sacred spaces, and ipso fact, about the religious practices and meanings associated with these spaces.
For the purposes of this assignment, how do these roughly contrasting models help us to think about the constitutive elements of the concept of sanctuaries, religious or other? In some respects, the term has come to be used so generously that it seems impossible to speak of the common characteristics of such spaces. Thinking initially about how to approach this topic, particularly with respect to a local space, I began by Googling various combinations of sanctuary and Providence, sanctuary and Rhode Island, and so on. I was not anticipating much success in doing so, but I was curious about whether and how sanctuaries were being conceived of by other people in the Providence community. The results were rather sparse, though not uninteresting. Three deployments of “sanctuary” dominated the search returns: Sanctuary, the “Goth, Industrial, EBM” dance night held every Sunday evening at The Dark Lady, the Norman Bird Sanctuary, and an article about how local community members are petitioning to have the entire city of Providence declared a sanctuary for illegal immigrants in order to promote them to report crime without risking deportation (in this context, sanctuary seems to be a legal status conferred upon some cities for the protection of their residents).
These examples are far afield from Renfrew’s critical connection between sacred objects and sanctuaries, perhaps because he seems to be operating with a concrete notion of what sanctuaries, when properly identified, actually are – namely, that they consist of standard features and serve as venues for religious practices. To the contrary, these contemporary, local examples deploy the term in reference to what “sanctuaries” offer – a space for sub-cultural expression, a space set apart for protecting natural resources or certain species from urban development, and also a space of safety and refuge (though all of these applications seem related at some level).
Attempting to envision a local “sanctuary” that captures this flexibility while also having some investment in sacred objects, I decided that a museum, the RISD Museum, in particular, would be an interesting site to visit and think about. Museums struck me as useful places for engaging some of these questions to the extent they are distinctive because of their object repositories, and yet, most of these objects are marked as distinctive, or ascribed with additional significance, by virtue of appearing in a museum collection. Likewise, the museum atmosphere is carefully cultivated to facilitate certain dispositions – contemplation, aesthetic enjoyment, nostalgia, veneration, to name but a few.
In accordance with Renfrew’s four criteria: 1) both the exterior and interior architecture of museum spaces is designed to focus attention upon showcased objects or features; 2) these complexes certainly contain special categories of artifacts; 3) many of these objects (if not all) were crafted to evoke the presence of some transcendent concept or figure (certainly, they have been assembled as we encounter them today because they embody certain notions about aesthetics, history, etc.); 4) and all effect forms of participation among those who carefully view them. These qualities, taken together, convinced me that a museum is as much of a sanctuary – both in respect to how it functions as a complex as well as to the sort of space it cultivates for visitors – as any of the of the other examples I have come across.
One could point to any number of features in a museum that contribute to its distinctive atmosphere, cultivating the expectations of viewers and heavily mediating their experiences. In some cases, and this is especially true for most of us, a museum’s process of enchantment begins long before one ever sets foot in its physical structure. When reading art historical publications, for example, I pay close attention to where cited objects now “live” and always try to recall which pieces I will encounter before planning a museum trip. Already, an appreciation for the significance of a particular object has been cultivated by my perception of its influence or exemplariness within an art historical tradition. While I refrain from making a beeline for pieces toward which I am predisposed, the anticipation of encountering an object that I have learned about for one reason or another generates excitement both prior to and throughout my museum visit (this is certainly the case for a piece such as the famed Delphic tripod, which I will visit in Istanbul next week!). The mythology – ancient and modern – that surrounds certain notable objects is often capitalized upon by their respective museums in media ranging from advertisements to volumes published on their holdings.
Entering most museums, visitors must wait to purchase tickets and receive some form of literature about the facility and its collections before catching a glimpse of the treasures within. This is the case with the RISD museum, where the building’s main entrance is of a strikingly more modern design than the rest of its elegant colonial façade. These antique and modern components are joined seamlessly and appear to be continuous with the intertwined building fronts of Benefit Street, yet one must turn sharply off of the main street and walk through a small sculpture garden in order to enter the museum. While this downward sloping landscaped area and its artistic accents are visible from the street, it is only with effort that a passerby would take notice of how it gradates access into the museum entrance.
Although the museum was unexpectedly closed when I attempted to gain admission for the purposes of this project, I vividly recall the sensory experiences of previous visits. Not surprisingly, whenever I visit I am drawn foremost to its collection of ancient art, which is tastefully displayed in older, more “venerable” parts of the building. The modest yet elegant décor in these sections, along with carefully coordinated lighting schemes, ample spacing between objects, and the subtle ways in which they are framed – either perching delicately upon colorless pedestals, or occupying articulated niches – act in concert to direct attention away from the built environment and to the objects themselves. Presented in this pristine manner, the objects appear to be preserved outside of time and space. The RISD museum is as much a protective sanctuary for its collections as it is a space for an infinite array of engagements between objects and viewers.
Observing each piece in relative isolation, my eyes are almost immediately drawn to the placard containing information about what the object is, where it is from, and to which period of time it is dated. While it is clear at multiple levels, beginning with membership in a museum collection, that these objects are notable, accompanying biographies offer justification for and a structured appreciation of their significance. Though I might dwell before certain pieces longer than others, I am always aware of the need to move around each gallery in a systematic fashion, examining each object and completing a full circuit before moving onto the next. This is partly why museum visits are so thoroughly exhausting – often I hit the “museum threshold” and agonize over whether to continue going through the motions when I am no longer engaging with the artworks with the same enthusiasm. The complex’s imposing silence, which characterizes even its landscaped inner courtyard, also functions to focus attention upon the artworks by eliciting feelings of intense reflection/admiration. The regulated nature of the museum environment produces a sense of austerity – behavior must be restrained, objects are not to be touched, speech should be modified – which is iterated more tangibly in the visible presence of alarms, guards, and wandering curatorial staff members.
Although I was initially disappointed that I would not be able to reenter the museum in my attempt to document its sanctuary characteristics, barred from access I discovered a different way of engaging with some of my favorite pieces. Peering through grimy windowpanes in the ancient art wing, I experienced a heightened appreciation for how integral the objects inside were to my conception of the RISD Museum as a sanctuary. Unable to participate in the standard rituals for engaging appropriately with these artworks, standing just outside of its carefully crafted atmosphere, I became acutely aware of the extent to which the contents of this building were the principal feature setting it apart from the blended façades lining either side of Benefit Street. Although numerous characteristics contribute to articulating the RISD Museum as a sanctuary, by my definition, its sacra are fundamental to how the complex was formulated as a whole. What began as an immense source of frustration – not being able to capture these new vantage points into the ancient art wing due to a combination of beautiful weather and highly reflective glass – resulted in images that demonstrate how these “sacred” objects lend extraordinary potential to an otherwise ordinary space.
RISD Museum, Ancient Art Collection: http://www.risd.edu/museum_ancient_collect.cfm?Choice2=Museum&Choice=Ancient%25
Some revelers enjoying the RISD Museum in a less ritualized fashion (photo from "Gallery Night" web page)
I tried uploading my photos directly into the page, but they appear to be too large. Hopefully you will have more luck opening them as attachments!
IMG_2354.JPG
IMG_2357.JPG
IMG_2358.JPG
IMG_2361.JPG
IMG_2360.JPG
IMG_2367.JPG
IMG_2350.JPG
IMG_2353.JPG
Posted at Mar 18/2008 09:36AM:
Elisa: I liked how you connected your reflection on sanctuary with the concept of "dwelling" that we have discussed previously. You note that both you and the objects dwell in this place - I wonder if the "wisdom" you gather from these objects is cultivated or manifested to you? Do you find yourself approaching these objects differently when you see them again? How is the way objects "dwell" different from our own sense of dwelling in a space? Also, I liked that you mentioned the fatigue of visiting a museum - is this true of other sites of sanctuary? (my family often complains that their "art nerve" is flaring up after an hour in a museum, even though they enjoy the experience). Some of these reflections define sanctuaries as places they could dwell in for an indeterminate amount of time, while others are acutely aware of the temporal aspects of this finite experience.
Claudia:I really enjoyed how your drew on the contrasting opinions of Smith and Renfrew in their discussions on the sanctity of objects. As your example is a museum (and I know that you are particularly interested in this issue) I keep wondering about the idea of museum objects themselves, torn from their original context, as sacred objects. If we know their original context (their provenance, exact find spot, precise date, etc) from their museum label but not from their present, physical context, can we still appreciate their sanctity? From another perspective, for me, the overall exhibit, its coherence, its design creates an overwhelming awe in which the objects (even though removed from their original contexts) become alive with a new vibrancy, speak to other pieces that may have originated thousands of miles away. Museums can bring together parallels from other cultures, removing an object from its original, ancient sacred context but creating a new, modern one.
Posted at Mar 18/2008 11:47AM:
Carissa: Heidi, I really enjoyed your piece, paticularly the way you incorporated today's readings into your analysis. You made me realize that in many ways, we become so enthralled with place and experience, we tend to forget the object's in these places. One topic that I am pursuing for the final project is how do you acturately recreate the sacred in these types of museum contexts? How do we enhance a place to prevent objects from becoming static?
Posted at Mar 18/2008 01:24PM:
Keffie: In relation to the contrast you made between being inside or outside the space-- I wonder whether you would feel the same type of "sanctuary" in a gallery with works with which you are not well acquainted or are particularly drawn to. What is it about these sacred objects that speak to you, and what is it about this collection that makes the place special?
