Document this

If someone, somewhere were to make a documentary about what it's like to have my job, today would have been the day to film. Not a usual day "sitting at my desk, making files" day (crap movie that), but one containing all of essential detail- the feel of being a ground-level plebe in a world-class museum. The oh-so highs, and the fatiguing "I'm gonna cry" lows.
Today, we bought a truckload of art. "We" perhaps gives the wrong impression; my boss (curator extraordinaire) talked a very wealthy and charitable woman into buying a truckload of art for us. This, following my exhausting Monday of wrangling extra tables and carts to show it all. Cleaning and rearranging an over packed room. Draping piles of what I can only imagine is refuse lumber (also living in the room) with packing blankets of a hue I deemed to best complement the surrounding art.
First, the drama. This meeting, sell-a-thon if you will permit, has been in the plans for weeks. A dealer drove across the country to bring the art to us. I broke my little feet trying to get it all ready. My curator-boss sweated over his pitch. Things were fever pitch. Then at about 1/2 hour to go time, the potential donor calls to (potentially) call it off. Dealer is pissed (he's waiting to take away the non-purchased goods back to his gallery across many a state line). Boss is pissed (went into a hyper tantrum of sorts). My feet are pissed (again, tantrum). Then half way through my lunch the meeting is back on, and ASAP.
Now, It's probably not wise to post what I'm about to post about a woman who could cut a check for my yearly salary without batting an eyelash. I'm too tired to be wise. She comes into a room of art, chomping on a bagel. You know that's a big no-no, don't you? All I can imagine is my boss was too keyed up to suggest that they wait until she'd finished her lunch. Still, food and art are a big, huge, heaping NO NO (if you walk away with nothing else, remember this!). Then, 5 minutes into the pitch she gets a cell phone call. Her purse is set on art. Food is set very near art. Pen comes out to jot a note, and swerves within centimeters of bead-worked leather from the century before last. . .
Luckily that was just a rough start. Eventually the phone was put away, boss-man got down to business, and art was promised to be purchased. All in all our lady donor was very gracious, and very very generous (to the tune of a digit followed by five 0?s). That's the happy ending, although the Registrars who have to catalog it all and find space in storage would probably disagree.
Okay, back to the documentary. I see (in my little director-of-photography-wanting-to-be mind) shots from the various carts I've had to wheel all over the museum in the past few days. Shots of the inside of the freight elevator (now a familiar friend of mine). Shots of secret faces made between boss-man and myself when donor lady is not looking (cell phone rings- bad face; art is agreed to be purchased- eyes wide hell-yeah! face). All of this is accompanied by the high pitch whine of a vacuum that was on somewhere in the museum. I heard it all day, but I never saw it. It added to the tension in such as way as I'm not sure that I didn't imagine it. Now the sound is gone. The carts are put away. Boss-man is happy at home with his family. I'm here spilling it all to you. And the art is ours.

Call me Star Cruiser

As a wise Ewok once said, "Star Cruiser crash." Oi, the day's only half over!

Museum go Boom

At least, that's what it feels like. Lets start with a man dying a week ago today, died of a heart attack int the front gallery while installing a cash register for a special event. Then Friday we lost power briefly. Sure, power loss isn�t a big deal- unless you're a museum. The surprising result was not theft or even compromised visitor safety- it was the frying of our server. Now the database (which my job revolves around) is out for who knows how long.

Then today a literal truckload of Native American art shows up. Me with my curatorial hat on says YEAH! COOL! Me with my assistant hat gets treated like I don�t know what any of it is (I do know. This is petty, but I don�t like being thought of as the "dumb assistant"). Me with my registration hat says NO!!! Too much stuff, not properly laid out and handled- and no room for it! Now (with all three hats on) I have to:
a. Straighten up the room the art is in, which is a disaster zone right now (including stacks of other art with no where to go, packing materials, general trash, etc.)
b. Organize the Native American art so that it is well laid out both conservationally and aesthetically speaking
c. Make it all beautiful by finding extra lights, fabric to cover the trash, vacuuming the floor, etc.
I sort of enjoy this sort of thing, but the general chaos of the museum is making it difficult (other large scale projects are going on EVERYWHERE today). Plus my boss is out for paternity leave for the rest of the month, and the second banana is on vacation for a few weeks- so on top of it all I'm getting their phone messages, mail, etc. to sort out. Make that �urgent� phone calls from people I�ve never heard of who assume that I know what�s going on when they casually mention that they�ll be in to pick up their art (or have their art shipped, etc.). For those of you not in the museum registration world, you NEVER let someone just waltz out the door with art unless you�re double triple sure that every possible department involved is aware. Registration = scape goat for most departments, so if something goes wrong (even if you didn�t orchestrate it, only touch it) you get the blame. Sorry, just a bit of extra stress there.

Lots going on. Lots and lots. Museum go boom, Sara go into overdrive.