MMF: Publications | The Power-Shifting Potential of Collectivism in US Art Museums
July 30, 2024
Liz Levine, MMF Publications & Events Manager
Near the end of my conversation with Olivia Dowdle and Amanda Tobin Ripley, Amanda and I lament the structural siloes between positions and departments that might hinder collective efforts for change in museums. In response, Olivia offers her perspective as a public-facing worker: “I think that’s something that front-facing workers can teach back-of-house staff. There’s already a collectivist mindset, to a certain extent, amongst public-facing workers because we rely on each other to make sure that we’re functioning properly.” This potential of collectivism—and the ways we can learn from those already practicing it—is at the heart of both Olivia’s and Amanda’s articles. In this context, I understand “collectivism” to mean, simply, the power of working together.
In her article, Amanda defines a framework she calls the passion subsidy as “the collective financial contribution that we actively make to sustain museums through our undercompensated labor,” akin to the value of philanthropy. Early in my career as an arts nonprofit worker, I would have struggled with this notion. Although I was keenly aware of the sacrifice that we make as nonprofit employees—and that it is a sacrifice that only some are financially able to absorb—I also believed it was a worthwhile trade for having such a cool job, one that I had tied so thoroughly to my identity. If I wanted more money or input into my salary, I was often told that I’d have to forgo passion in exchange for financial security. But Amanda argues that adopting a passion subsidy mindset does not need to mean the end of passion at work. In fact, this framework can open avenues for us to sustain doing meaningful work and connect us more deeply with our colleagues across our museums.
Olivia’s personal narrative about her experience working in a museum bookstore underscores the potential impact of Amanda’s analysis. After she and her colleagues discovered the staggering dollar amount that they had rung up in sales and compared it to their stagnated wages, she decides to advocate for higher pay to her museum’s leadership. However, rather than just asking for a personal raise—which is what I have been taught to do as the primary mechanism to advance my career—she calls for an increased minimum wage across the entire museum. Implicit in Olivia’s story, and as she emphasizes during our conversation, are the foundations of collectivism at work: talking with colleagues across the museum and acknowledging both shared and divergent experiences.
During our conversation, Amanda and Olivia reflect on the history of collective action within and outside of museums. Olivia’s vision for a worker-centered museum is informed by her experience as a front-of-house staff member and in the teachings of grassroots social movements. During our conversation, she says, “as you can see in so many different social movements throughout history, supporting the people most oppressed liberates others.” Amanda, grounded in her extensive research on the museum labor movement, shares lessons on how the history of museum labor shapes our discourse today. Despite coming out of feminist and artist-led anti-war movements, some early museum unions were, she says, “protective of the prestige of museum work, and many wanted their working conditions to reflect their status as ‘elite’ workers.” I take from this that collectivism also means pushing against ingrained exceptionalism within the field that separates us from other workers. What can be learned from other organizing efforts, even those outside of the rarefied air of the art museum?
Both authors describe a power with others rather than a power over others. They envision a future where worker-led collaboration is given room to flourish and where museums can grow and adapt based on a deep understanding and appreciation of the needs of its workforce. Framed this way, an open letter, a union’s vision statement, or a protest could all be seen as potential gifts to the institution: an invitation for rethinking and possible collaboration, rather than misguided attempts to seize control.
My takeaway from my conversation with Amanda and Olivia is not that front-of-house staff alone deserve higher pay and more respect—although they do—but that there is so much to learn from their ways of working collectively. Any meaningful changes to museums must be confronted together and led by those most marginalized within the current structures. Not doing so risks reinforcing and replicating what we are fighting to reimagine.
I hope you learn as much from Olivia’s and Amanda’s articles and our conversation as I have. As you read through their work (which can be found in the right-hand table of contents on web or the drop-down menu on mobile), I invite you to consider:
Have you talked to front-of-house workers at your own institution? If you already have relationships across the institution, how can you facilitate conversations for others who may be more siloed?
What are the similarities and differences that you see between your work and the work of folks outside of the museum field? Where do you see a lot of alignment and where does it diverge?
Can you calculate the monetary and non-monetary value of your work? How is the value that you provide intertwined with the work of your colleagues at all levels, including those in front-of-house positions? What is easy for you to calculate and what is challenging?
How do you or can you disrupt individualistic practices within your museum? Have you engaged in salary sharing practices, advocated for a raise across positions or departments, or shown up for those in more precarious positions who are advocating for improved conditions? If you have, we’d love to hear from you!