World Fairs: Just Another Flash in the Pan?

My first real memory is from 1986 – or rather, my first string of meaningful memories. I drove across the country with my mother and grandfather to attend my aunt’s wedding in Vancouver and the World Exposition that was being hosted in the same city. To be honest, my actual recollection of the Expo itself is almost non-existent, but I do have a rather impressive collection of memories (and a few photos -- one of which I've tried, without much success, to include here) from the trip. I’ve been thinking about that summer a lot lately, as the topic of world fairs and expositions has come up several times in class discussions and readings.

The idea of a World Fair is an interesting one in its relation to museums, department stores and carnivals – all places where people gather for entertainment, education or socialising. During the 19th century, World Fairs could be incredibly significant social events – think of, for example, the Great Exhibition held in London in 1851 (the first truly international exhibition) or the World’s Columbian Exposition held in Chicago in 1893. These early fairs were showcases of technology and industry, but they also involved dazzling displays of culture from around the world, an exciting event at a time when the world was a lot bigger than it is now. They were also great opportunities for cities to create lasting architectural monuments or public spaces – the most famous of these being, of course, the Eiffel Tower (not to forget the Space Needle).

Are these international events still relevant today? Perhaps the last truly important World Exposition was held in Montreal in 1967, during a time of promise and excitement. It was a time to celebrate the Centennial of Canadian Confederation, and the Expo involved truly innovate architectural projects like the Habitat apartment complex. But by the early 1980s, a world fair held in Louisiana had to declare bankruptcy. There hasn’t been one in North America since 1986, and most of us are unaware that they, in fact, are still held every 2-3 years – usually in Europe or Asia.

And so, since, in North America at least, world fairs are almost forgotten, what exactly is the point of them? The original idea was to promote international co-operation and friendship. Before international travel was as easy as it is now, it was a chance for people to ‘visit’ foreign lands and learn more about the world around them. But in an increasing global world, it seems like there is too much to compete with our attention for world expos to have much success. Public spaces or architectural designed for the events can end up underused or ridiculed – see my classmate Sarah Waugh’s recent blog post on her experience in Seattle, or think back to ever-controversial Habitat.

Expo ’67 was certainly something that meant something to Canadians – both my parents made the trip from Winnipeg to Montreal as children and still have very significant memories of it. But Expo ’86 didn’t have quite the same impact. And I’m not convinced that a World Fair ever will again.

For those who are interested in the history of world fairs, check out this website.

For these Ruby Slippers, There's No Place Like Home . . .

In my museology class today, our professor brought to our attention a recent "controversy" involving Oprah Winfrey and a pair of ruby slippers apparently worn by Judy Garland during the filming of The Wizard of Oz. These shoes are usually on display at the Smithsonian Institute's American History Museum in Washington, D.C. but were flown specially to Chicago for a recent episode of Oprah's show, travelling first-class with the protection of armed guards. The "controversy" arose when, even as the museum director Dr. Brent Glass tried to get across the message that the shoes were fragile and needed proper care, Oprah insisted that she be allowed to pick them up, and then allegedly waved them around, and according to one viewer who posted on a discussion board dedicated to this topic, "the slippers touched and touched hard as far as I can tell." And she'd checked her tivo. I can't, however comment the specifics of her handling of the shoes -- the video has disappeared from youtube, and I can't find it to verify for myself.

So what's at issue here? Basically, it comes down to the fundamental question of access versus preservation. As Dr. Glass said, not everyone would have the chance to visit D.C. and see the shoes for themselves. But by taking them out of the museum, putting them on a plane and subjecting them to the whims of Oprah Winfrey, the museum was putting them at risk of irreparable damage. And for what gains? Well, the show was certainly good publicity for the museum. And Oprah got to have her fun. But seeing the ruby slippers on video in no way compares to seeing them in person.

At the end of the day all museums have to face the difficult question of whether to keep fragile artifacts in storage where they are safe from deterioration or to put them on display where the public can learn from them and enjoy them. So, too, must archivists face this important challenge. Modern technology, and especially digitization, can go a long way to improve access to fragile documents and artifacts. But I don't think anyone would argue that there is something very special about actually being in the presence of an historic artifact, and millions of visitors to the Smithsonian each year feel that way about the ruby slippers.

There is no easy answer to this question. But we can only hope that Oprah's little faux-pas did some good, after all: maybe it got people thinking about the objects they see in museums, and how important it is to take good care of them.