Monks in the Museum

Last night, the Buddhist monks from the Drepung Gomang monastary presented chants and a ritual dance at the Ackland Art Museum. It was one of those evenings that remind me why I am committed to and so deeply curious about what museums can do in, and with, a community. It was a privilege to listen to these eight men, to be given a glimpse into their practise, and to hear their story, while surrounded by works of art. It was a privilege to learn.

Museums have a long history of teaching and learning, of enriching the life of the local community with objects that spur our curiosity and engage our empathy. But so many works of art – particularly in historical collections – are a little like short stories written in another language. Without an interpretor much of their meaning is lost.

On the day before the monk’s performance, I had the pleasure of walking through the galleries with them to introduce key works in our collection. Pausing in front of the Thai Buddha Head, they examined it closely, whispered to one another. They looked with much interest at the Sutra Covers on display and the Ackland’s Bishamonten. I have studied these works for more than a decade, and yet, in the company of the monks, I was reminded of how much I do not know – and perhaps, how much I can never know. Together we looked at the Mahakala, a marvelous sculpture of a fierce Buddhist diety, and later another scultpure in the collection depicting The Sorrowing Virgin. I asked questions about the Buddhist objects; they asked about the Christian objects. We translated for one another – at least a little – bridging more than 7,000 miles and more than a little cultural difference.

This is what I love about museums. They are locations for encountering not only the excellence of artistic traditions, but the beautiful differences that exist between us all. I like the challenge of translation and moments of understanding.

I cannot understand all that happened in the Museum last night. The language, the sounds, the dancing were all unfamiliar to me. But I can try. I can continue to show up, to be there to listen and learn. As I was driving home, I remembered other encounters like this: a docent telling the story of Siddhārtha Gautama to a school group in the Musée Guimet in Paris, another demonstrating how to wrap a toga around a child in the Louvre. I come to museums to meet, to see, to learn, and to be reminded of how little I know. I don’t always like what I learn, and I don’t find this inspiration in every work in every gallery – but on the whole I do…and I keep coming back on the off chance that I will get another day like yesterday – a day with monks in the museum.

What have you learned in museums? What differences have you encountered? What makes you come back for more?

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