Rebecca Bush, The Columbus Museum, Georgia

As a history curator at a multidisciplinary museum, I approach the idea of inclusive collections from a few different perspectives. I work in Columbus, Georgia, at the Columbus Museum, which has been multidisciplinary for nearly all of its 65-year history. For the past 30 years, exhibitions and collecting have focused exclusively on American art and the history of the surrounding Chattahoochee River Valley of Georgia and Alabama. Columbus is a minority- majority city, and museum staff and board members have become keenly aware of better serving our community by telling familiar stories in new ways. In the American South, many heritage tourism visitors expect to encounter a “moonlight and magnolias” narrative that often ignores or downplays the roles of African Americans and women. The museum’s art curator and I have consciously worked to diversify our interpretation and collection through gifts and purchases often made possible by generous endowed funds, which is not the norm at every museum.

Further complicating efforts toward diversifying the collection is the fact that strategic history collecting is still a relatively new idea at my institution. There has only been a dedicated history curator since 2001, and this was reflected in the museum’s overall collecting and exhibiting emphasis trending toward art for several decades. I have worked diligently to educate board members and art-oriented colleagues about the importance of giving equal attention to history acquisitions. Though we follow one general collections policy, acquisition procedures for historical artifacts do often differ from those used for works of art.

Sources for collecting fine art can generally be divided into three categories: auction houses that specialize in art, independent commercial galleries, and collectors who are known to an institution’s curators through regional or national networks. However, noteworthy historical artifacts can easily come from previously unknown area residents who have simply kept items from their or their family’s lives over the years. Auction houses that specialize in historical artifacts are also often lesser known, even at the national level. Known availability of objects also factors in, as despite our best efforts, there’s no historical equivalent of an artist’s catalogue raisonné for what treasures may be stashed in a local attic. In my experience, this becomes an issue when people who are used to researching fine art demand an equivalent price list to support fundraising for future artifact purchases. Though we can do general research, the types of history objects available to address essential themes and topics vary throughout the country. For example, there is no Chattahoochee Valley equivalent of the slave badges used in Charleston, S.C., but recently the museum purchased at auction a coverlet fragment woven by a local enslaved woman that conveys powerful ideas about creativity, technology, and humanity. This variation connects to a third issue: Historical objects often do not carry the same aesthetic or financial value as works of fine art. This discrepancy can make it difficult to generate excitement for funding history acquisitions, as donors may believe that the objects are so inexpensive that the institution can buy them with existing funds already allocated to other needs, or they may think an object is not “pretty enough” to warrant spending money on. Additionally, the local significance of an historical artifact may far outweigh its appraisal price. Much like the sentimental value we all attach to family heirlooms, an artifact that is seemingly worthless to a collector in New York may be priceless to the community in which the object originated.

For these reasons and many others, it was only a few months ago that my museum established its first endowed fund to be used exclusively for history acquisitions, though funds established only or primarily for art purchases have existed for decades. Board members voiced agreement that this measure was long overdue while voting to approve the fund, but none of them had proactively taken steps to remedy the situation. Educating boards and granting organizations about public history collecting practices and challenges can enable us to advocate successfully for greater resources and support for inclusive collecting practices. Longtime stakeholders may not fully recognize the importance of telling more inclusive stories, or if they do, they may not understand why acquiring objects to tell those stories isn’t as simple as putting out an open call for artifact donations. As we work to build relationships with underrepresented populations within our communities, nurturing buy-in for updated collecting practices at the highest institutional levels will lead to improved communication, greater support (financial and otherwise), and even unexpected connections to build a more inclusive collection.

Based on my own gradual successes and the work yet to be done at my institution, here are a few suggestions I’d like to discuss in greater detail to see if they could be helpful to others:

1. Start small. Raising thousands of dollars for history collections can be daunting, especially for smaller organizations struggling to pay utility bills. Museums could ask members and community supporters for $25 or $50 each to start a dedicated artifact acquisitions fund. Many great objects, such as postcards, photos, scrapbooks, and documents, can be found on Ebay, often for less than $20. Quickly making a few small but interesting purchases demonstrates to stakeholders that acquisitions funds can be utilized, and it also provides the instant thrill of bringing something new into the building for visitors to see. The results of acquisitions purchases are immediately tangible in a way that can be used to build
2. Don’t be afraid to ask. Both auction houses and collectors have noted the recent surge in interest in African American history by targeting their efforts accordingly, and similar booms of interest in other underrepresented populations may soon be coming. A few years ago, a well- known area collector died without a will, and his family chose to send his phenomenal collection of local historical artifacts to auction, including the largest known archive devoted to Columbus native and enslaved autistic pianist “Blind Tom” Wiggins. I knew that the funds earmarked for history purchases wouldn’t get us far in this endeavor, so I prepared a presentation for board members about specific objects I thought we should pursue, complete with recommended bid amounts. Though a stressful exercise, the pledges this process generated proved essential to our ultimate success, and it also strengthened my case later to argue that we needed a dedicated history fund to avoid this panicked type of fundraising. Much like writing grant proposals for programs, curators and other public history professionals should develop skills to persuasively explain why an object is essential for a collection and why it is financially worthwhile for donors, whether individuals or granting organizations, to support that pursuit.

3. Building community connections takes time and effort at all levels. Whereas wealthy or middle-class white families may have long thought of local history museums as safe spaces that tell their history, many people of color have traditionally had different experiences within our walls. Just as organizations must consciously build trust with underrepresented communities to encourage greater visitation, this commitment of time and trust doubles when it comes to discussing potential loans or donations of treasured family heirlooms. As a younger white woman who did not grow up in my current community, I am constantly trying to improve how I navigate this delicate process. Just as important as staff initiatives in many cases, however, can be the efforts of board members. Striving for more inclusive board representation is key, and so is the presence of so-called traditional board members at diverse community events. When white people listen to people of color talk about their involvement in desegregation protests, or when straight cisgender individuals show genuine interest in LGBTQ history, it demonstrates that these stories are truly important to everyone. Engagement by stakeholders, demonstrating that this commitment to collecting and exhibiting a more inclusive history is embraced at the very top, can help open doors and begin to break down generations of cynicism in our

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