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We put together the Minnesota Arts and Culture Coalition, first to get health information so we could understand how and when it was safe to bring people back-we’d have public health speakers like Mike Osterholm. “I’m collaborative by nature and started working first with Katie Luber at Mia, the Guthrie, the Orchestra, the Duluth Art Institute.

With this newly significant porous back-and-forth and emphasis on community, a fresh question arose: Did the state and federal government actually see the various communities inside our museums? “Early on in the pandemic, we realized, ‘Restaurants are really good at making people aware of their plight. It might be a basket or a quilt, a tool for scraping hides, or an oil painting, and so what does Minnesota mean, what does Minnesota art mean? I think the upheavals of our recent past have given us space and urgency to question-and answer!-things we weren’t questioning before.” VISIBILITY Each community has a different relationship with art, defines art differently. I’m Dakota, Flandreau Santee Sioux, and the murder of George Floyd is opening up opportunities to say, ‘OK, this whole place is founded on Indigenous removal.’ Immigrants from everywhere-Vietnam, Sweden, everywhere-came. “I was trained as a public historian, and I think the M bringing me on is another sign of how history and the present must be in dialogue. These multiple communities come from both a shared past and also individually experienced pasts, which have become more vivid and urgent post-pandemic than they were before. Before the pandemic, the things we took for granted obscured how essential the health of these different, diverse, overlapping communities is to the vitality of any museum.”īut don’t forget the past, says Kate Beane, of the M.

It also means the community of donors, the community of curators and employees, and the international art community, too. That is, gallery-goers, yes, but also the government of the state supporting public health and safety, which allows people to be safe and healthy enough to find time to experience art. But we only achieved that because of our community and, within that, our communities. Today we are free, and we serve everyone. But it actually took generations to achieve that. “A hundred-plus years ago, Mia was basically 25 people, all wealthy industrialists, saying, Art for the community. Mia’s Katie Luber agrees and has seen something of an equation play out: community + aspiration + time + stewardship = museum. Museums are now about conversation, back-and-forth, creating ways for dialogue.” But today, the relationship between community, museum, and curator is much more porous. In broad strokes, museums were places that had cared for history and objects, told stories and were authorities of all that, and shared expertise out. “The old perspectives haven’t gotten us where we need to be. “I would say that the evolution of museums was well underway before the pandemic and uprising, but the evolution was certainly hastened along,” says Mary Ceruti, of the Walker. Paul’s Minnesota Museum of American Art, all three of whom are new to their roles since 2019, to see what museums mean for our Cities and our state today. How? We checked in with Walker Art Center executive director Mary Ceruti the president and director of Mia, Katie Luber and Kate Beane, the new executive director of St. Now, two-and-a-half years later, museums are back, but they are different than they were before. When the Twin Cities’ many great museums closed for the pandemic-just like everything else at the time-ticket sales, visitor numbers, and gift shop revenue all plummeted. What are museums? Whatever we thought the answer was on New Year’s Day 2020, by that March, we knew what they weren’t: pandemic-proof. From left: Director and president of Mia Katie Luber executive director of the Minnesota Museum of American Art Kate Beane Walker Art Center executive director Mary Ceruti