Is Museum a Four Letter Word?

This article was published in Museum, January/February issue of 2008.

In June of 2007, the Museum of Television and Radio in New York announced it was changing its name to the Paley Center for Media. In a New York Times article, Pat Mitchell, the president and CEO of the center, made no bones about the change. “‘Museum’ was not a word that tests really well with the under-30- and -40-year-olds, especially in the context of radio and television,” Mitchell said.

I’m not sure what research Mitchell based her comment on, but I’m hardly surprised by her findings. Despite the Herculean efforts many museums take to offer accessible, cool, inviting experiences to the public, the word “museum” is still laden with the ghost of “don’t touch” past. Add to this the fact that many museums no longer offer the basic collections and research services associated with them historically, and the appeal of the word diminishes. In the example of the Paley Center, the New York Times article continues: “Moreover, the name was somewhat misleading: some patrons would arrive expecting to see, say, Archie Bunker’s chair. In fact, until recently, museum-goers had nothing that they could see, unless they wanted to watch a specific old program. As part of the continuing changes, the West 52nd Street space now offers a rotating display, which features Middle Eastern media, including a live feed of Al Jazeera’s English television channel.”

So they’re not a typical collecting museum. But does switching to “center” really clear up the fact that the place is a repository of and distribution center for media content? And more importantly, will it attract more visitors, members and dollars?

I don’t think so. The word “museum” is not powerful enough, alone, to attract or repel visitors. Museum means different things in different markets. Science museums have started to gravitate towards “center” to convey interactivity, and yet children’s museums are rarely called centers and don’t seem to suffer under the museum label.

As an illustration of the mutable power of museum, consider the following institutions:

Pirate Museum
Art Museum
Rock Star Museum
History Museum

What makes you excited about some of these and yawning at others? The word “museum” has nothing to do with it—or, rather, our prejudices and expectations have more to do with the word(s) preceding “museum” than the m-word itself. Kids wouldn’t care if they were going to the Harry Potter Museum or the Harry Potter Castle of Fun or the Harry Potter Center; their interest in the topic overrides any prejudices about the venue’s name.

In fact, museum can be quite a useful word, especially if your collection is small, your topic is odd or you generally seek credibility. Driving across the country last summer, I was amazed at the ubiquity of road signs advertising museums. Many were local historical societies, but there were also Harley-Davidson dealerships, locksmiths and candy stores with small window signs that read “and Museum.” Labeling your collection—however dinky—a museum puts it into a useful category that conveys value, authority and organized public presentation of stuff.

But what about the Paley example, where the leadership looked around and realized it was no longer displaying stuff? What if you think you are creating something so far beyond the standard museum, either in collection, presentation style or interpretation, that you want a new word? It’s hard to create a new genre around a single location. San Francisco’s Exploratorium did it—and spawned many “wondariums” and “discoveriums” trying to tie into the same spirit of activity and invention that makes the original a success. But the Experience Music Project? Sony Wonderlab? Will those brands define new genres? Are these places helped or hindered by their nontraditional names?

When the creators of the International Spy Museum in Washington, D.C., began planning their institution, they commissioned a study to choose a name. They initially favored more mysterious names, like “La Espionage” and “The House on F Street,” which they felt conveyed the intrigue of the future site. But people surveyed overwhelmingly preferred the straightforward “International Spy Museum.” The House on F Street could be a haunted house, a ride, a movie. The International Spy Museum is clear, and it has been able to stretch what it offers within that label.

Key West’s Pirate Soul went the opposite direction and assumed an unclear name. Is “Pirate Soul” a strong enough brand to stand on its own, or does it lose potential visitors who look at it and think, “What is that thing?” In my mind, it missed a huge opportunity to be the Pirate Museum. Both Pirate Soul and the International Spy Museum have content that is compelling and unusual enough to override any negative association with the word “museum.” In the latter’s case, the word “museum” adds a legitimacy that transforms a potential tourist trap into a valuable experience in the eyes of potential guests. And if you feel comfortable under the “museum” umbrella, being a successful outlier has its advantages. It will always be more useful in terms of marketing to have visitors walking out saying, “That was the best museum I’ve ever been to!” than “That was the best thingamajig I’ve ever been to!”

But what about the Paley Center and other museums offering more traditional content? While “museum” may have value for untraditional content, it can still be a killer when it comes to conventional collections and museum experiences. So where’s the museum alternative vocabulary list? If “art museum” is a deadly phrase but your institution is one that collects and shows art, what are your options?

I have a personal aversion to the word “center.” I went to a junior high school that was a feeder from many elementary schools, including one called the Center for Early Education. We always talked about the kids who came from “the Center” like it was some Orwellian futuristic kid-pod churning out students. But beyond my personal issues, I think the word “center” suffers from the fact that there’s no public concept of what a center is. A park or library, sure. But a center?

A marketing blogger commented about the Paley Center’s lack of context, saying: “If it’s not a museum then what is it? Center for Media is open to interpretation varying from a room with a computer in a middle school to a State Department of Censorship, or (hopefully) an intriguing destination that offers rich content. . . . Best Buy is a Center for Media. YouTube is a Center for Media, the Apple Store is a Center for Media, Pearl Art Supply is a Center for Media, and so is the Public Library.”

This blogger seems generous in connecting the Paley Center to these broader media distributors. “Center” may not suffer the negative associations of “museum,” but it doesn’t have many positive associations either. As a museum colleague commented, “Paley Center for Media sounds like a think tank or university department devoted to cultural studies. Zzzzzzzzz . . . boooooo-rrrrring!”

If you’re searching for alternatives to the word “museum,” there are better options: less ambiguous words with strong cultural associations. We don’t have to spend all our energy creating new names, inventing the next Exploratorium. The words we need are already out there. Retail companies have hit the dictionary with great success. No one doubts that a store that sounds like a kids’ gang (Sam’s Club), a geopolitical treatise (Borders) or a city travel company (Urban Outfitters) can be successful. In all of these examples, the retailer found new words that both express the experience it provides and are easily understood.

What is the place or experience you want your museum to resemble? The temple where pilgrims and reverence abound? The lab where experiments are bubbling? The park where games and nature coexist? The market where things are sold and exchanged?

While these and other evocative location-based words are useful, there are other facets of the museum experience that can form the basis for a meaningful name. Action-oriented words, like project and exchange, may convey the ways that visitors can participate in what an institution offers. The word “experience,” while general, is perhaps the most popular, used by museum professionals to brand exhibitions and whole institutions, such as the new College Basketball Experience in Kansas City, Mo. Even words like club, gang and crew—which connote more social than physical organizations—are identifiable expressions of some of the things museums are trying to be.

At the end of the day, it’s what’s inside that counts. If you can make your content compelling, exciting and glorious on the inside, word will spread. You could call yourself Aunt Ethel and people would still come. You could call yourself Amazon and sell millions of products. You could call yourself Six Flags and people would pay $50 to get in. You could call yourself museum and see what happens.

Nina Simon designs interactive experiences for museums. This essay was adapted from her blog, Museum 2.0.

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