Welcome to MyMuseum

By Frances Drennen Nichols

While interning at the Museum, I have come to learn that a big part of the Museum staff’s job is assisting people in the community with their special events. This happens to be of particular interest to me because I recently had a very special event at the Museum—my wedding reception. My overall experience was so pleasant that I feel encouraged to share my story. 

When planning a wedding, it is easy to feel flustered, especially when you realize there are hundreds of decisions to make! One decision was simple for me, however; I knew where I wanted to have my reception. Having been an Art History major in college, my love of art brought me directly to the Museum. After a walk through with Brynne MacCann, the Facilities Special Events Coordinator, it became even more apparent that the location was perfect. The Museum lends itself beautifully to any ideas a bride might have. Whether the event is large or small, there is a way to make it work at the Museum. Whenever there was a concern, the Museum staff was beyond helpful, and every time I did a walkthrough, I became more and more excited. I also had the best time tasting the food and preparing the menu. A Social Affair worked with me to prepare a menu that perfectly suited my taste.

All in all, my experience can be summed up in one word: perfect! The combination of the magnificent art, delicious food, and the beautiful building itself made for the perfect backdrop to a very memorable evening. I would strongly encourage any bride to consider the Museum for her special day!

By Terry Beckham

It's hard to believe that I have worked for the Birmingham Museum of Art for 26 years. As I worked first as Exhibit Designer/Preparatory and then as Head Exhibit Designer, I have witnessed so many positive changes that it's hard to count.

I was working as the Exhibit Designer at the Huntsville Museum of Art in the early 1980s, which was great, but I wanted to work for a museum that had a large permanent collection. I sent out letters to several Southern museums and, much to my delight, ended up with a job offer from the BMA. It became apparent from day one that the Museum was on the move up and a major growth spurt was coming, in both collection size and the physical size of the museum. 

In the beginning, I was a one-man department but with big plans to make the Museum exhibits look better through good design and attention to detail in the installation. The BMA had great objects but most were poorly displayed, so I hit the ground running to change that with the support of the Museum's administration. I began adding assistant preparatory and, with the extra staff, we were able to install the collection and exhibitions even better. In between changing exhibitions, we all worked on the permanent collection galleries. I've been here so long now that I've reinstalled some of the permanent collection two or three times. This provides me with the unique opportunity to judge my own design work. I feel I made vast improvements in the collection installation each time I've reinstalled—practice makes perfect, I guess.

The BMA has hosted amazing special exhibits over the many years beginning with The Armand Hammer Collection. I remember to this day standing in the gallery holding a Vincent van Gogh drawing that I had just unpacked—it still blows me away to think about having such an amazing art object in my hands. (I might add I was very careful and I did wear white cotton gloves.) Many other fantastic special exhibitions followed: Quin, The First Emperor of China; Searching for Ancient Egypt; Pompeii, Tales from an Eruption; Leonardo da Vinci; and Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness: American Art from the Yale University Gallery. But my first love will always be the permanent collection of the Birmingham Museum of Art. This collection is the legacy of our city and deserves the most TLC.

The BMA staff has grown from a handful to a rather big crowd when we all gather together for an event. The curators have always been so helpful with the information they provide me when I'm designing their exhibits. I consider it my second college education, and I never leave a day at the BMA that I have not learned something new. I love my job and look forward to going to work every day, because I have the BEST JOB AT THE BIRMINGHAM MUSEUM OF ART.

By Kristie Allen

A little over 3 years ago, when I took over running The Birmingham Museum Store, I made a list of goals that included getting the merchandise in the store here in the museum onto the web.

I am part of a fabulous organization called the Museum Store Association which hosts an e-mail forum called Shoptalk, where my fellow museum store managers discuss everything from ribbon to associate policies to – building a presence on the Internet. I had collected any web-related information for sometime. As 2010 rolled around I felt it was the perfect time to get started.  I went through all of my files and emails and called several web-hosting providers that were mentioned on the forum to see what they had to offer. 

One company, which specializes in small nonprofits, got me so excited listing all the things they could do for our store  – until they told me the price. I nearly choked. “That’s per month?” I asked. “For just hosting the site? And then there are more fees?” That was out. But it helped clarify what I needed: an inexpensive and user-friendly option. For me, having never done anything like this before, user-friendly was the key. So I went with Yahoo, a familiar name which makes it possible for me to learn as I go.

Now, having a host, I ordered my lights and camera and prepared a small corner in my stock room to be used as a photography studio.  While waiting for my equipment to arrive I started setting up the basics of the web page. I could hardly wait for my museum web store to be up and running, making hundreds of thousands of dollars!!

First I decided on a domain name: www.birminghammuseumstore.org. That was easy.

Next, I chose a color and layout for the site. Again, easy. My confidence and excitement were growing. I was really starting to get the hang of this website stuff.

Step 3, add the “About Us” information which includes contact info, hours and location, shipping info, etc.  Easy enough. I typed out and uploaded all of the information. It looked good, but I decided that each heading should be bold and there should be a space between each paragraph. I went in to make said changes. Uploaded the information. Hmmm. No changes. After trying the obvious – typing in bold, hitting the upload button – several times, I called the Yahoo help desk.

“Oh,” said the help desk guy, “you will have to use HTML code to accomplish that.”

“I’m going to have to use what?” I asked. Long story short, there’s this code that resides within every website and after studying it on www.htmlcodetutorial.com, I learned how to do bold, and italic, and even line breaks.  So proud of my newfound HTML genius, I e-mailed my friends and let them know how web-savvy I was becoming.

I began photographing my stock, and discovered that web photography is another thing I need to learn.

My work world for two months now has included hours of reading about search engine optimization, linking, sitemaps, etc… and I have not even scratched the surface of the web.  Sometimes I feel as though I’m reading a foreign language, as if I have stumbled into another whole world, one with keywords, site maps, spiders (web slang for search engines that will find some words but not others). There is so much to learn and I am having so much fun learning it!

Be sure to visit us at www.birminghammuseumstore.org. And don’t forget to look at my fantastic About Us page!

By Jennifer Powell

So everyday I come to work, I put my badge on, swipe through the doors, give a few a.m. greetings, make the coffee, get myself a quick cup of joe, and then get ready to start the day. I’m an administrative assistant so I’m always filing, taking calls, greeting guests, dictating minutes, making reservations, booking it to meetings, or running (technically, it’s fast walking. Fast, careful, walking,) through the halls to find senior staffers who are supposed to be somewhere else. But my favorite part of my job at the Museum is taking the calls.  I can get some random calls and most of them are really fun. You never know who the other caller will be. And it’s always a surprise when the call connects back to your life somehow.

Last October, Annette Gordon Reed, PhD, spoke at one of the Museum’s many free lectures during the Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness exhibition. Now, this is a world-renowned scholar who called the Museum one day and I just happened to be the one to pick up the telephone. Pretty cool, I thought.

I only spoke with her for a few minutes about her then-upcoming trip to the Museum. At the time I didn’t think anything of it.  But only a couple of weeks ago I was at home watching TV, flipping through channels, (because, as much as I love Law and Order, I couldn’t take another episode), and I found myself landing on The History Channel.  The topic involved American presidents, and just as I was about to flip away from the show, I saw Dr. Reed talking about the lineage of Thomas Jefferson.  So, I put the remote down. I was hooked, suddenly stuck on that show. Although Dr. Reed was featured on the program for only a few minutes -- as were several other professors -- I watched that show on The History Channel for the next 3 hours because of her. I learned quite a lot.

You never know when something from the Museum will relate to something else in life, no matter how small or big, even if you’re just at home watching the tube. Being at the Museum I see it more and more. I get the chance to hear lectures from famous scholars, meet local artists and collectors; the opportunities for education are endless here. Working at the Museum is a profound experience; just as profound as it is to visit! Just about every program the Museum offers is free, and with so much history to take in you can’t walk out the door without taking something with you. What you do here is certain to stay with you for life!

By Nathan Poe

"You are such a baby."  Typically not words that you would want to hear, but that was the resounding theme in my first years at the Birmingham Museum of Art. 

I was, in fact, a baby in many ways.  At the time I was 23, single, still finishing college and employed in my first "grown-up" job.  My employer was a local Information Technology (IT) consulting firm who was given the job of installing the first standalone computer network at the Museum.  Prior to 2000, the entire staff of more than 60 people at the Museum shared eight computers that were connected to the Internet and email.  Suzanne Stephens, from the Registrar's office was given the task of evaluating the state of the technology and working with the consulting company to develop a plan to install a network independent of the Birmingham City IMS department.  She put in countless hours evaluating the many aspects of such a project that, for the most part, go unnoticed.  Complex wiring diagrams, inventories of all of the equipment and software in use, and evaluation of potential new software were just a few of the many items that she covered in reports that I still have today. 

With the new wiring complete and the Museum's first servers nearly operational,  baby Nathan was contracted to the Museum to install 50 new computers and manage its first internal network.  A large majority of the staff would soon send the very first email they had ever composed.  Most of the knowledge that I have gained in my complex job came in those first couple of years, usually in various trials-by-fire.  I was a department of one reporting to superiors who didn't really understand my jargon yet still trusted this kid to make big decisions and plot a course for the future of the technology at the Museum. 

This baby learned that a new IT professional's best answer is usually "I don't know the answer, but I will find it for you."  I had only been here a few months when the Museum decided to hire me away from the consultant as a full time member of the team.

This month celebrates my ten-year anniversary at the Museum.  Today, I am no longer the baby and the IT department has grown from that one-man operation to... ok, it's still just me.  More times than not, lately, I actually do know the answer, though.  I have compared the implementation of technology at the Museum to our contemporaries and I believe we are doing a lot of things right.  My superiors still trust me to make those big decisions with all the jargon and steer the course.

My entire adult life has happened while I have been growing up within these walls.  I got married that first year and both of my children (Emma, 7, and Aiden, 3) have had days where they had to play quietly in my office while I responded to an emergency of one kind or another.  The last couple of years I have noticed that most new employees look really young.  They also present a unique challenge in the fact that some of them were seemingly born with an iPod in their hands.  They are called "digital natives" and they keep me focused on learning new technologies so that I can keep up.  This Museum has helped the baby grow up. I look forward to the challenges of the next ten years. 

By Rhonda Hethcox

In this fast-paced world, with time spinning so quickly by, I occasionally take time to reflect on life and wonder if I have made a contribution to the world. One day as I was contemplating on this subject I realized I had made a contribution and it was right under my eyes.

Twenty years ago I taught kindergarten at St. Rose Academy in Birmingham. I have always had a love for art, so each month I highlighted an artist and a composer. Classical music played often in the classroom as we talked about the life of the composer. But the real fun was teaching about the lives of the artists. Teaching about an artist’s life gave me so many opportunities to reach inside a child mind and open a whole new world with them.

Have you ever seen the interest in a child’s face when you talk about how Michelangelo painted the Sistine Chapel? They take great interest in how hard it must have been for Michelangelo to paint while lying on his back.  In my class, after everyone had looked at photos of the ceiling, and considered color, and after objects were discussed, imagine their surprise to find that taped underneath their desks were pieces of art paper. Each child, armed with markers, had to slide under her desk to draw her own Sistine Chapel.

Once, after talking about Picasso, we drew huge portraits of ourselves, painted our faces and hair any color we liked. Then we took scissors, cut our portraits into pieces and glued them anyway we liked. A Picasso original!

Fast forward many years later. I received a phone call from one of my students, Lauren Williams, informing me she had graduated college and wanted to thank me for giving her a fun start in school. As we were reminiscing about all of the fun times in kindergarten, a call came in to my office asking for a volunteer. Lauren said she would be happy to volunteer since she was looking for a job. She volunteered, the Museum loved her, and she was offered, a few weeks later, the chance to work for the Birmingham Museum of Art.

She thinks it is strange to call me Rhonda and not Mrs. Hethcox. I think it strange to see a beautiful young woman working at a museum instead of a little girl of four with pigtails lying on her back underneath a table with stars in her eyes as she masters her own Michelangelo. Just maybe, I made a difference and gave Lauren a love of art.

By Nick Patterson

In the movies, the phrase “based on a true story” signals to the discerning viewer that some of the details may be changed, often either because somebody thinks the story needs embellishing, or because some of the details are fuzzy. This story falls into the latter category, although because it is not a movie, you’ll have to open your mind’s eye to see it.

It was about 1974 or 75, and I was somewhere between 13 and 15 (depending) and completely determined to become a comic book artist. It was, at the time, my life’s ambition. There was, in my mind, no higher expression of man’s talent than rendering powerful images of super beings in battle. And so, I aspired. 

I shared that pipe dream with my friend Curtis, who, like me, was a self-taught artist with visions of comic book greatness constantly dancing through his brain. In our eager, deluded state, we reveled in a friendly competition, although neither of us was a great cartoonist. He just knew he was better than me, and vice-versa. Both of our occasionally inflated adolescent egos craved validation. At some point, after discussing with Curtis the fact that I really needed to know if I were any good at all, I hit upon a plan.

 “Hey,” I said. “I have hit upon a plan. Why don’t we go down to the art museum and let them tell us how good we are.”
“We’re not that good,” Curtis said.
“How do you know?” I said.
That led into a lengthy discussion, Curtis arguing the merits of using logic in making the decision. He could clearly see that nothing good would come out of such a foolhardy mission. No, there could be nothing but shame, ignominy, and the certainty of having finally been told by an expert that we lack talent.

I must admit that his Spock-like logic overwhelmed me. For a day or so. But the notion wouldn’t die. I had to know. So, against Curtis’ better judgment and the still, small voice of reason in the back of my own mind, I set out on a quest for validation at the Birmingham Museum of Art.

I picked up my sketchbook, and a few loose drawings of superheroes, and I walked over the hill from Homewood into downtown Birmingham. Somehow (did I even have the address?) I managed to make my way to the Museum. I went in, and asked to see whoever was in charge, realizing – during the actual asking – that I wasn’t quite sure how to explain what I wanted. Standing in the lobby and looking around, I suddenly realized I was way out of my league. It was as if Curtis was standing right there punching me in the shoulder and saying, “See, this was stupid.”

Despite that, my request roused someone. Standing in the lobby, clutching my sad little drawings and dreading the painful encounter to come, I saw a man approach. He was tall. He was nicely dressed. He had not just walked five miles over a tall hill in the middle of summer carrying a stupid sketchbook. I felt at a disadvantage, and that’s putting it mildly.

The man was probably painting and sculptor curator Ted Weeks (I now understand), although the increasingly loud pounding of my heartbeat drowned out his introduction. About the point he reached down to shake my hand, the reality of what I was doing and what I was asking was blurring my vision. My senses were reeling, leaving me only a vague idea of what happened next. 

He looked over my work, said something like, “This is very interesting. Tell me what you’re doing here. Um-hmm. I see. I like this…”
“It’s probably no good,” I blurted out.
“Well, I wouldn’t say that. I would say you should keep working at it. It takes a while and a lot of practice to achieve what you want as an artist….”

And that’s how it went. He treated me with the utmost kindness, with nary a comment about my how my visit interrupted his day. Not even a hint of annoyance that I would dare to ask him to pass judgment on my barely formed squiggles. He was nice, gave me some constructive criticism, and helped me recover the dignity that had taken off for parts unknown when I entered the Museum lobby.

In the end, I didn’t leave convinced that I was either a flop or a well-spring of undiscovered talent. I did leave with a somewhat finer appreciation of the breadth and scope of that thing called art, and with a lasting, positive memory of this great institution.

By Danae Vaughn

When I chose to move to Birmingham to attend Samford University’s Ida V. Moffett School of Nursing, I never imagined that I would end up working at the Birmingham Museum of Art. Samford’s federal work study program allows students to work at non-profit organizations all around the city; whether fate, luck, or God intervened, I am truly blessed to have ended up at the Museum.

Because I am a nursing student, some may question my choice to work at an art museum.  But, I have learned more about nursing by working at the Museum than I have by studying for some of my basic education classes. Was reading Heart of Darkness really necessary? Probably not. The museum, on the other hand, is filled with teachers of wisdom and experience.

Everyone who enters the museum is my teacher. The employees here have gone out of their way to help answer my questions and lead me to the right places. Rhonda Hethcox, who serves as the Volunteer Coordinator, has become one of the most supportive people in my life. She has taught me so many things about how to work with volunteers and people in general. She makes me feel worthy by assigning me important tasks and giving me the tools to complete them. She makes the Museum a wonderful place to volunteer and to work.

The volunteers themselves are a great source of information. Every volunteer has a different story to tell, if you listen closely. Several volunteers are retired nurses who constantly offer me advice and stories. Other volunteers share great memories about how the museum has positively impacted their lives. It is so interesting to learn how people who come from so many places in this world all end up at the Museum for a three-hour volunteer shift. They are so eager to contribute to Birmingham.

By having the opportunity to talk to employees, volunteers and visitors of the Museum, I have learned so much about communicating with people. I have interacted with the rich and the poor, the elderly and the young, those from the North and the South, the educated in art and those who think Monet is slang for “money.” All of these people are equally important in the wonderful and inspiring diversity of the Museum.

I have learned that people are kind of like art. From far away, it is just another painting, sculpture, or photograph, but up close, it has emotion, intrigue, and a story. I promise if you give them a chance, people will teach you something about life. I know I’ve learned a lot.

By Eric McNeal

I feel as if my life has been in orbit around BMA since I was in grade school, sometimes closer, sometimes farther away, now somewhere near the center. Those early passes were the typical school trips with docent-led tours of the highlights of the collection; gawking at St. George slaying a dragon, gazing at Wedgwood or staring at the huge totem pole in the Native American gallery. I worked here for several summer vacations during high school, as one of the first group of counselors for the museum's Art Camp program. My high school art teacher, Mrs. Stage (and constant mentor, even now) was also a textile conservator who did lots of work for BMA; seeing her handiwork from her shop to the museum's galleries helped bring me closer to objects than I ever thought possible. I decided to study art history based on a chance observation of Don Wood, Curator of Asian Art, whisking a suit of Japanese armor through a public space. That same encounter eventually flung me as far as Japan and led me to study Asian art in Kansas. I even met my wife, Tracy, here (oddly enough, I now sit in what used to be her cubicle) and my child is named for two of the museum's former librarians, Grace and Andrea. All those passes make for a web of curious connections.

What kept me coming back? What keeps me here? There are all sorts of reasons, but I have a love for the products of human creativity, and this place is filled to the brim (and beyond) with thousands of intriguing examples of that human effort. Whether it's a glimpse of a Buddhist paradise on a temple wall or a delicate parade of classical figures across a blue vase or a convoluted web of steel rods and twisted cable pulled taut in rhythmic tension, each reminds me of the human hands that wrestled with notion and material to tease them into existence. That idea and image gives this museum, my museum, a particular gravity. Every time I find some new detail I've missed a hundred times before or hear some newly discovered fact about an object in our collection, I want to look a little closer the next time I'm passing by.

By Tatum Preston

Every morning, I step through two heavy glass doors and walk into a large room in the basement of the Museum that smells like old leather and new ink.  Rows and rows of books, magazines, and archival boxes greet me.  Ahh, The Clarence B. Hanson, Jr. Library.  What?  The Museum has a library?  Yes, indeed, we do.  With over 35,000 volumes, we are the largest art museum library in the Southeastern U.S.  Inside is a treasure trove of information on the art in our collection.  Of special interest is the material on Wedgwood, which supports our amazing collection of Wedgwood pottery. 

I knew practically nothing about Wedgwood when I came to work here 8 years ago.  During my time here, however, I have learned a lot and come to appreciate Josiah Wedgwood as an innnovative and entrepreneurial person - the first to take a cottage industry and turn it into a worldwide phenomenon.  I've also learned about the various patterns and glazes that Wedgwood has produced through the years.  From the classic blue and white that most people recognize, to the more contemporary art pottery pieces crafted in the 20th century, I like that Wedgwood and his successors were always willing to experiment, learn, and try new things.

Speaking of learning and trying new things…if you haven't ever visited the Hanson Library, you really should! 

The Hanson Library is open to the public on Wednesday afternoons from 1 to 4.  You may also make an appointment Tuesday through Friday to come use our materials, or just lose yourself in a good art book or magazine.  To make an appointment, email This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it or call 205.254.2565 x3944.  Our catalog is available online at http://bma.kohalibrary.com.

By Graham Boettcher

Because I’m the Curator of American Art, it’s hard for me to walk through the American Gallery as a casual observer. Whenever I do I’ll begin thinking about research that remains to be done or changes I’d like to make.  When I really want to clear my head, I visit galleries in the Museum for which I'm not responsible professionally.

One of my favorite galleries is the 19th- and early 20th-century European Gallery.  The overall feeling of the gallery is one of tranquility.  The cool, pale green walls put me at ease, and in a single room I can marvel at the technical skill of Bouguereau, the expressive brushwork of Cassatt, and the intricacy of Berlin ironwork.

One of my favorite objects in the gallery is a profoundly modern vase from about 1930, designed for Wedgwood by the New Zealander Keith Murray.  Formed of concentric circles, graduating in size, the vase always reminds me of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Guggenheim Museum, which I often visit when I am in New York.  What is amazing to me is that the vase predates the Wright design by a quarter century!  It’s proof positive that good design is timeless, and that beautiful, eye-catching forms never go out of style.

Another work in the gallery that I really enjoy is Marie Laurencin’s 1936 portrait of the British novelist W. Somerset Maugham.  While I realize Maugham is best known for the novel Of Human Bondage, I came to be acquainted with him through his infinitely quotable quips.  When I attend a social function, I sometimes recall his warning, “At a dinner party one should eat wisely but not too well, and talk well but not too wisely.” Unfortunately, I’m usually guilty of both! 

What I like best about Laurencin’s portrait of Maugham is that his expression is simultaneously pensive and self-assured.  His direct gaze suggests both introspection and brazen self-confidence.  I think the ambiguity is absolutely intentional. 

By Toby Richards

Last Sunday I achieved a milestone by running and completing the Mercedes Marathon. I did it right here in front of the Museum and in the company of friends I have made here. My running mates are just four of the women who have encouraged and inspired me.

Almost two years ago I was challenged by Lauren Williams, now the BMA’s education coordinator, to make a sort of Top Ten List of Short and Long Term Goals. Lauren’s only stipulations were that I had to think of the unimaginable and the inevitable, and to be daring, honest, and adventurous.  After many revisions, my 2010 list included running a marathon. I knew the Mercedes Marathon was coming up, but when I realized how close it was, I began trying to talk myself out of it  -- or at least to wait until next year.

But somehow the idea of trying it now, in the moment, wouldn’t go away. I became convinced that it was now or who-knows-when? I tried to persuade two colleagues to join me in my quest. Even after they turned me down – Lauren, in particular, reminded me that the marathon was on my list, not hers – I didn’t give up.

I began seeking others, only to discover that many people who run are, at least this time of year, bound not to the great outdoors, but to their treadmills. But even though many turned me down, they would always recommend someone else to me. I wound up contacting development director Kendra Quandt, membership development officer Charlotte Russ, special events coordinator Brynne MacCann, and Assistant Preparator Priscilla Tapio.

After being turned down so often, I was pleasantly surprised to have these young women all agree to run with me. We bonded, took on the name the BMA Babes, and set out together to achieve what had been a lifelong goal for me.  They were so supportive: they kept me focused on the goal even when I wanted to back out.

Although we ran the marathon as a relay, passing the baton from one to the other, during the last leg, with Kendra carrying the baton, we crossed the finish line together. It was just a rewarding feeling. So now, even with all the nice experiences I have had and will have as artist-in-residence at the Museum, I can always cherish this special moment when through inspiration, determination, muscle pain, and a little perspiration, I bonded with my co-workers in a way I never had before. Now, besides working at a great museum, we have something else in common.