Tim Pingelton

I have sought out many museums and have very seldom been let down by their collections, exhibits, or architecture.  A few times, I have been just floored by these three elements (eg, The Uffizi Gallery in Florence), and a very few times I have been underwhelmed (a tiny maritime museum with about five model ships of no great significance and a small room showcasing the accomplishments of a few sailors seemingly of importance to no one outside of their immediate families).

Most museums imbue me with a special reverential and familiar feeling.  This sensation caused me to smile for about three hours nonstop as I wandered through the amazing collection at The Barnes Foundation in Philadelphia.  Van Goghs and Cézannes hang amid decorative doorknobs, butter molds, ladder-back chairs, and Yoruba sculpture—all items of especial beauty in design and manufacture.  The Barnes houses an amazing, eclectic collection and, to me, is the very definition of “museum.”

A “museum” is simply a home of the Muses.  The etymology is simple and direct.  The virtues of the Muses cover all of the fine arts and sciences, but before proceeding, I have to share a special moment from about two decades ago when I was teaching sophomore (high school) English in a rural Missouri school district.

Something we read in class mentioned the Muses, and I elaborated on what this meant.  I had a lesson plan in my mind sure to enlighten these kids to the wonders of history and literature and to set their young lives on a course of fulfillment and beauty.  I started out by discussing how the Greek god Zeus had seven “wives,” two of which were his aunts and another two of which were his sisters.  From these women were borne a couple dozen children; his nine daughters from wife #5 (his sister) were the Muses.

Before I could dramatically build up the attributes the Muses embodied, Matt H elbowed Shawn T and announced, “Zeus was a dawg, yo!”

“Zeus was a dawg,” I agreed, and I managed to complete my life-changing lesson plan with slightly less of a dramatic impact than I had hoped, but I think a few concepts might have stayed with that class.

In ancient Greek religion and mythology, the Muses were the source of knowledge in literature, sciences, and the arts.  There were nine Muses, and their mother was Mnemosyne, a Titan who sorted out memory of the deceased and the resurrected in Hades.  Each Muse had a specialty, so to speak (eg, Thalia bore the knowledge of comedy, Clio of history), and, therefore, a “museum” is a collection of objects inspired by the Muses.

Many of the epic poems we tried to muscle through in high school (Eg, The Odyssey) begin by the author invoking a Muse or two for assistance in creating the work.  Ancient texts state that the Muses were seen hanging out in the mountains near Pieria (north-central Greece near the Aegean) and Thespies, Greece (north of Athens).  Cults venerating the Muses built shrines at these sites.  I guess that would make those locations the first museums.

Maybe, by filling our living spaces with our unique mix of things that make us feel comfortable and which inspire us, we are creating our own home of the Muses or ‘museums.”

Here is a cool article from an historian/archaeologist at Ionian University in Corfu, Greece, writing in Harvard University’s Center for Hellenic Studies Research Bulletin.  His research team recently found significant discoveries at the Sanctuary of the Muses in Thespies, Greece.