History



BY PRATYUSA MUKHERJEE

Staff Blogger
Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Help me with this, will you, Maya?

I turn to see Annie Chen trying to attach a miniature of a stand onto a model of an exhibit room as she holds two mini paintings in place. I grab the bottle of rubber cement that sits, just out of her reach. You’re supposed to glue these things, Annie, I remind her.

I know, I know—I just wanted to see it.

Where are the vases going? I ask, brushing the adhesive onto the little painting slips and sticking them to the cardboard walls. We’re in the final stages of creating this exhibit; the only thing now is to create the model exhibit so that setup can replicate it for us in the real rooms.

Annie holds up the stand. The top is marked with a tiny MV—Ming Vase. This is one of them, she says. The other one is going here: she point to a stand already glued into the replica. She’s done a wonderful job with it, really. The Chinese exhibit is the one going up first, because everything has already arrived. Annie’s in charge of it. I’ve been working on the India exhibit and assisting Annie with her project, knowing that she’ll return the favor. There are more exhibits—part of the museum’s plan to host a yearlong Asian Floor.

Are the brochures done? I can print them, I tell Annie. She gestures to her laptop, perched on a stand that will hold a statue in a few days. I take it and go to the basement, where I print the starter copies. When I come back up, Annie asks me if I don’t have my own work to do.
I shrug. I’m about halfway through with analysis, I say. I need to meet with someone flying over from UChicago first. I got a Kolkata-based businessman to loan his collection, but I have next to nothing about those pieces. I need verification before I start working on that set.

Ah.

Yup. Have you finished your personal narratives yet?

Almost, says Annie, gluing the last miniatures into her model. She dusts her hands off. There—it’s finally done. She turns to me. I don’t know where to get two other stories. Her voice is tinged with worry— her deadline is the first. I wanted a household name for one of them, but I haven’t gotten through. And the daughter of one of the old men I was talking to found out, and she’s against the whole thing. I don’t know why.

She starts to pack up, storing everything in a corner of the room. Suddenly she turns to me. Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t chosen to work on what we were familiar with?

I raise my eyebrows at her. Come on Annie, how different would it have been? Did you specialize in Chinese History in college?

Actually, yes. But I don’t know that much about, say, Indonesia or… or Bangladesh. I would have needed a lot more outside help, and it would have been an interesting experience.

Are you saying this isn’t?

No—not at all. Just… I don’t know. I asked for the China exhibit because I thought it would be easier.

I smile. If there’s anything we’ve learned, it’s that nothing is easy. The Asian floor is a test for the junior curators at the museum—it’s exactly why Annie asked to do the China exhibit and I asked for the India exhibit. We want every edge we can get. But I didn’t major in South Asian Studies, so my exhibit still was—and will be—a lot of work, and a lot of research.

Maybe next time, I think, later that night. Maybe next time I’ll take a chance. Because I might not be an expert on all things desi, but it’s a familiar flavor. For now, I focus on my very real, very immediate exhibit. My replica is only in the beginning stages because I’m waiting on information. I should start, at least, on the personal narratives: stories of people that we will add to the walls as a modern backdrop. I know exactly whose story I want to write first. So even though Sam throws a pillow at me for working on my own time again, I pick up the phone. It’s time to call my grandmother.

Leave a respond

Post a Comment