2014 ARLIS/NA DISTINGUISHED SERVICE AWARD Acceptance Speech, by Daniel Starr; DSA Ceremony held at the Omni Fort Worth Hotel, March 22, 2015
I started working at the Art Institute of Chicago's Ryerson and Burnham Libraries when I was fourteen years old -- one afternoon a week during school and full time each summer.
My first job was to paint yellow acrylic dots on the spines of books being moved to storage. You can still see my handiwork today if you visit the stacks: pristine runs of bound journals back to the mid-sixties; anything earlier: a bright yellow dot.
I was lucky to learn about library work at the end of the analog era from Miss Schoneman, Miss Vivian, Miss Fillis, Miss Chin, and so many others who took me under their wing.
These dedicated librarians (with the occasional Mrs. and the rare Mr.) trained me, and taught me the importance of tempering work with a sense of humor. One afternoon when I was shelving books in the basement, Miss Fillis startled me appearing at the head of a solemn delegation to recite a poem that began: Danny's The Elf Boy Who Dwells in the Stacks and Impishly Tweaks you if you Dare Relax Near to his Lair, Where he Lurks Melancholic, Never Venturing Out for a Frolic."
I continued working in this nurturing environment throughout College and Grad School and was lucky enough to get my first professional position there as Reference/Catalog Librarian just as I finished my MLS, a member of the last class to learn cataloging by typing cards.
The highlight of my week in those days was the arrival of The New Yorker. I would make myself a martini, settle in for the evening and pretend to be a sophisticate. I also looked forward to the less regular arrival of the ARLIS/NA Newsletter, and avidly read the cataloging column. So it was natural for me, a presumptuous 27 year old, to answer an ad in the New York Times for Senior Cataloger at MoMA (accurate typing required). Cataloging in New York--what could be better?
I grew up in Chicago; but I became an adult at MoMA. I learned the craft of cataloging, helped by my colleagues in ARLIS.
I learned to be a reference librarian by working with a string of amazing ones: Paula Baxter, Hikmet Loe, Eumie Imm Stroukoff, Jennifer Tobias, Janis Ekdahl, and later, Linda Seckelson. They would give a collective shudder to read one of my early efforts: "Dear Ms. X -- I am sorry but we do not have the staff nor the time to do your research for you, nor do we have any material to send to you -- Sincerely yours, ..."
Also, to paraphrase Nelson Rockefeller, all I ever learned about management I learned at MoMA by leading the union of professional and administrative staff for a dozen years negotiating contracts, handling grievances, and being on far too many committees. I'm pleased and proud that Danny Fermon so ably continues in that role of the activist librarian.
Then fourteen years ago, thanks to Ken Soehner I moved uptown to the Met -- a simple career: three great libraries in three great museums. The one constant has always been ARLIS/NA.
I thank Susan Craig and her committee for deeming me worthy of this honor, Carole Ann and the Executive Board for their hard work, my good friends Sherman and Ted, who nominated me, and to those who wrote in support. Sherman has been a conference roommate and cataloging sparring partner for over thirty five years; Ted is the hardest working person I know, not only at our house (lucky for us) but also for Avery and ARLIS/NA.
To my husband, Gary Miller, you deserve special thanks for putting up with library stuff all these years. Of course, you can't avoid it. Art librarians were there when we met on the Great Lawn of Central Park during a Metropolitan Opera performance 31 years ago and have been part of our life together ever since.
I'm grateful to my siblings, Bob, Loriel, and Steve for being here tonight. Please ask them to fill in the embarrassing details of my past at the reception I know you are all eager to get to.
Finally, to you, the members of ARLIS, both past and present, who are such inspirational role models, generous colleagues, and good friends: that shy little boy who dwelt in the stacks thanks you.
Probably no one in ARLIS/NA's history has more experience in getting up and speaking in front of the entire membership than I do, but at past conferences I needed only to talk with members about the society's activities and achievements during the past twelve months.
However, when Chuck Wayne and Merrill Smith asked me to prepare 15 minutes or so of "reminiscences" about my experiences with ARLIS/NA, I was faced with a real quandry -- how to select and organize into some coherent whole memories of more than 15 years with the society and our members?
I remembered almost at once that public speakers are always advised to use a lot of humor, so my first thought was that it might be fun to share some narrowly averted behind-the-scenes conference disasters -- like the time in Chicago in 1993 when our first members to register were told by the conference hotel that they were fully booked and we only then found out that the hotel had scheduled an enormous Chicago Cubs Fan Club meeting to overlap with our conference and somehow neglected to inform us, or the time in Los Angeles in 1985 when one of our members fell and broke her arm on the way onto a bus to the convocation and then-Western Regional Representative Susan Malkoff and I spent most of the convocation driving around L.A. trying to find a hospital emergency room that would take an out-of-town patient.
But then I thought that perhaps the start of a new millenium might not be the best time to be dwelling on disasters, past or not. In looking at this year's conference program, and recent ones from ARLIS and other library conferences, it appears that technology and its specific ramifications for libraries and related collections remains a dominant theme. Our brave predictions of ten years or so ago that technology would become such an integral and integrated part of art libraries and visual resources collections that a separate Computer Section or Round Table would no longer be needed may have come true, but it does not mean that we have completely come to terms with the changes technology have brought to libraries, librarians, and library users.
The same is true of the management of professional organizations, and I thought it might be fun to look back at the ways in which technology has transformed how the day-to-day business of the society is conducted.
I became the executive director, then called executive secretary, of ARLIS/NA almost exactly 20 years ago, in early 1980, and I had been editor of the society's newsletter for two years before that. The first president, then called chairman, of the society whom I worked with was Wolfgang Freitag. He was located in Boston, as he still is, and I was at that time living in Iowa City, Iowa, which is where the society headquarters were relocated from Washington, D.C. Wolfgang did most of his ARLIS work at home, and with the difference in our time zones, most of our communication seemed to take place via answering machine, which at that time was still a fairly new-fangled device. I would come into my office in the morning, or return after running errands, and rewind the tape on my machine. If the tape was full, as it often was, I knew it contained an incredible message from Wolfgang, covering answers to a myriad of management and financial questions I had left for him, plus ideas, suggestions, and questions of his own. I would make copious notes, look up or compile information and call him back, and often get his answering machine, and so the cycle would continue.
Membership and conference records were handled almost as primitively as communications in the early days. My predecessor, Charley Mundt with the management firm of J.D. Ferry & Associates in Washington, had computerized the membership records to a certain degree, but they were not in any condition that was transferable. PC's were still a thing of the future, so I went to the data processing center at the University of Iowa to see if they could help in any way. Does anyone else remember when university computer centers had to justify their existences to the parent institution? Well, they did in 1980, and Iowa's computer center tried to do this by contracting for outside work in the community. They were happy to take ARLIS/NA on as a client, but this meant that all the membership data had to be input from scratch and then proofread by me, well over a thousand records.
I would receive enormous weekly printouts on that 11x15" green-and-white striped computer paper our offices were full of at the time, mark up any additions or corrections by hand, then take the printout back to the computer center for them to do the inputting, then get a new printout for proofing, and on and on. So, even with computerized membership records, updating of information was done no more than once a week, less often if the computer was "down," as frequently happened. Conference registrations were done completely manually until the mid-1980s. Remarkably, I think they were quite accurate, but to say the work was labor intensive hardly begins to describe it.
And then there were the ARLIS publications. I remember reading about Judy Hoffberg producing the first issues of the ARLIS/NA Newsletter on some sort of Dickensian type-setting machine that a friend allowed her to use late at night in what I always imagined to be a dark, cobwebby basement lit by flickering candles. Until the 1990s I had to use the more traditional method of taking marked-up paper copy to a typesetter and then correcting page proofs. During the 1980s the typesetters themselves gradually moved to computerized typesetting, but we were still not able to submit copy on disks because we received material from so many different contributors for the newsletter, ART DOCMENTATION, and the Occasional Papers. The typesetters could accept only certain word processing programs and needed everything in ASCII file format, which few of us knew how to produce at that time.
So, hard copy it was until several years after we moved the ARLIS headquarters in with Association Managers in Tucson in the mid-1980s, and they developed the skills and acquired the equipment to produce at least ARLIS/NA UPDATE entirely in-house except for the printing.
Even more painful is the memory of producing the three reproduction indexes that I did with Greenwood Press in the 1980s. Greenwood required "camera-ready copy," which meant that I had to type the entire manuscipt myself on special coated paper with my trusty IBM Selectrix II typewriter. The Selectrix did a pretty good job of self-correcting if you caught an error while you were typing, but any mistakes not noticed until after you moved to a different line, or any smudges from the copious blood, sweat, and tears called forth by this nervewracking process meant the whole page had to be started over from the beginning. I'm sure I threw away at least three ruined pages for every one that was completed in truly camera-ready form.
By the time I left ARLIS/NA in 1993, we had made a lot of progress with our publications -- ARLIS/NA UPDATE was being produced in-house, the conference publications were submitted on disk, and we had even adopted the somewhat revolutionary idea of producing some of our monographs with limited projected audiences strictly on demand, printing copies only when they were ordered. The per-unit cost was higher, but we avoided big up-front printing charges and warehousing costs.
At the same time, we were making advances in communications as well, getting beyond the telephone and answering machine stage. When we moved ARLIS/NA headquarters in with a management firm in Tucson in the mid-1980s, I got our first computer, an IBM 286 clone that was still in operation when I left in 1993. Although I know that many ARLIS members were using computers regularly in their own jobs by then, the first ARLIS president I remember using a computer for society business was Clive Phillpot, who was president in 1989.
At that time Clive was working at the Museum of Modern Art in New York but living in Philadelphia and making the daily commute by train every day, two hours each way. He did ARLIS business in New York, in Philadelphia, and on the train in between. I well remember visiting him in Philadelphia and having him proudly show off his brand-new white Apple, which he claimed was preserving his sanity by making him able to transfer files easily from one place to another.
With the 1990s came widespread use of faxes and e-mail. The fax I have to say was a mixed blessing for ARLIS, at least for me and the editors of our publications. While the technology undoubtedly made it easier to transmit documents over long distances, it also had this strange side effect of encouraging everyone to wait until the absolute last minute to send anything in. My husband operates on the theory that no matter how late you are, there is always someone later than you, and it seemed for a while as if the ARLIS/NA membership was out to prove this theory en masse. I believe that at one point we even had to require that reports and publication contributions be submitted by mail in order to get legible copies -- this before the days of plain paper faxes.
In one instance, however, the fax was definitely a lifesaver -- when we were planning the Western Regional Meeting in Guadalajara, Mexico, in 1991. The meeting was coordinated by Winberta Yao at Arizona State University to coincide with a major book fair in Guadalajara, so she had to be in constant communication with the organizers of the book fair. It would be charitable at best to say that at that time phone service to Mexico was less than reliable, but for some reason the faxes almost always went through, so that was how most of our communication took place. Without the fax, Winberta would probably still be hanging on to the end of a phone line, listening to, "If you want to place a call, please hang up and dial again."
E-mail has, of course, been a great boon to a society with members scattered throughout the continent and some abroad, and ARLIS-L has been a wonderful means of stimulating discussion and facilitating exchange of information. However, there have been issues to deal with, chief of which is how to keep fully involved our members who have lesser access to computer technology.
Early on, it was suggested that Internet voting for ARLIS/NA elections might stimulate a larger turnout, but so far we have not been able to ensure that everyone would be able to vote that way. I thought of this particularly just recently because this month I had the privilege of participating in the nation's first Internet presidential primary in my home state of Arizona. There were many dire predictions, and several legal challenges, beforehand, warning that potential voters from minority and lower socio-economic groups would be disenfranchised, even though the traditional methods of mail and in-person voting were still offered. I have not yet seen a breakdown of the voters by ethnic or income group, but I did read that more people voted in this primary than in the actual 1996 presidential election in Arizona, so this does seem to be the wave of the future, though I did kind of miss the trip to the church where I normally vote and getting my "I Voted" sticker.
I have to admit too that as we did more and more ARLIS business by e-mail during my last couple of years with the society, I missed the phone conversations with members that gave the personal touch to a job in which I saw most of the membership at best once a year.
I've talked so far mostly about ways in which the society has changed over the past 20 years, so in closing I'd like to touch briefly on a couple of ways in which it hasn't changed. Merrill Smith mentioned in a letter she wrote to the Distinguished Service Award Committee that one of the unique aspects of the job of executive director is it involves having a new boss, or set of bosses, every year as a new president and board are elected, and Merrill mused as to how many other ARLIS members could survive such a situation.
Well, that does present its challenges, and I remember that when I used to attend meetings of the American Society of Association Executives, most of whose members face this same situation each year, it was kind of a running joke that if you got stuck with a real stinker of a president or board, at least they would be gone in a year. However, I can say in all honesty that I have never worked with any stinkers in ARLIS/NA. Each board has its own personality, as all ARLIS presidents quickly recognize -- some are quiet/some are loud, some like to discuss everything to the last detail/some like to move quickly and act decisively -- but I've never seen any real friction among board members, and I've never seen a board that didn't put the best interests of the membership as a whole first.
The same is true with presidents. Some presidents come in with clear ideas of what they'd like to accomplish/others are more interested in hearing what others would like to do, some want to be involved in the day-to-day business of the society/others would rather just deal with the big picture, some are on top of every deadline/some need a little reminding, some love to perform in public/others would rather eat nails than get up and make a speech. But, again, I have truly enjoyed working with each and every ARLIS/NA president I had the privilege to, and most have become dear personal friends.
You are very fortunate in having such a dedicated and hardworking group of colleagues who have over the years taken on the not inconsiderable task of guiding the society to its present level of success.
Finally, this is certainly an occasion that led me to think about what it is that made my years with ARLIS/NA so satisfying, professionally and personally. My thoughts were drawn to an article that appeared in the fall 1999 issue of ART DOCUMENTATION. It was by Michael Gorman and entitled "New Libraries, Enduring Values." One of the enduring values of libraries and librarians that Gorman defines is service, and, in fact, on page 8, he says that "Librarianship is a profession defined by service."
As art librarians we provide service to a variety of types of library users -- students, faculty, museum curators, artists, and the general public. Sometimes our service is more valued than others. In my work with ARLIS/NA, however, I was in a very special position, in that I gave service to my peers -- other art librarians and visual resources curators -- who have always let me know that my services were appreciated, but never so much as this evening. I cannot think of a group of people from whom I would more value receiving an award such as this. Thank you enormously...
First of all, I want to thank everyone who was involved with my nomination and selection for this honor. I am overwhelmed at the thought of you working on my behalf. When I learned of the award from Deborah, I found myself totally speechless for the first time in my life! Fortunately, I've recovered and I'd like to share a few highlights from my career as an art librarian with you.
I have been incredibly lucky. Lucky first of all to realize that I could combine two loves into a career. I have used libraries since I was a child in a very small town in central Kansas--the library was my playground and it opened my consciousness to a wider world--and then in college, I had a job working for the KU Libraries. I also loved art history and was embarked on earning a graduate degree in the field when I realized I didn't know what I was intending to do--I just liked sitting in a dark room looking at pretty pictures and thought anyone who didn't major in art history in college was working way too hard! I attended library school at Emporia State University in Kansas--not a prestigious library school but one I could afford and where the faculty allowed me to direct all my class projects toward art librarianship. The faculty didn't actually understand subject librarianship but were flexible enough to allow me to do projects on art resources for my reference class and to catalog art books for my cataloging class.
My next piece of luck was to send my resume to the ALA job placement service where an H.W. Wilson staff member saw it at the summer 1971 Chicago conference. They contacted me for an interview, I flew to NY, and was hired as an indexer for Art Index. For the next 4 years, my job was to read art magazines and determine what the articles were about--what an education! It also meant I was living in NY when the first ARLIS/NA annual conference was held in a classroom at Columbia University and I attended. I participated in the organization of the New York Chapter and served as the first Secretary-Treasurer of that chapter. I had an unbroken string of attendance at the next 16 annual conferences and it was there that I began to meet colleagues from all over North America and where I truly received my education as an art librarian.
I was lucky that Jean Finch, the 2nd President of ARLIS/NA, was the art librarian at Stanford and recommended me for the job at Univ. of California, Berkeley in 1974. This was a new position as the Art History/Classics Librarian at Berkeley but it had been open for 2 years by the time I applied. Although funded by the library, the Classics Dept. had a say and they wanted someone with a PhD in Classics; the Art History Dept. had a say and they wanted someone with a PhD in Art History; and the library had a say and they wanted someone with an MLS who could serve the two academic departments and keep the faculty relatively happy--or at least out of their offices. I've always known I was a compromise for all of them but I spent 7 years there working with a fabulous collection, colleagues, students, and faculty. I also got involved in the Northern California ARLIS/NA chapter and served as the chapter's Vice-chair/Chair from 1979-81.
It was at the 1981 ARLIS/NA conference in San Francisco that I had my first interview for the position as art librarian at Kansas. Leaving Berkeley was difficult but it was both a personal decision--returning to my family and my alma mater--and a professional one--going to a brand new branch library with lots of space and money to build a collection. It also meant involvement in a new ARLIS chapter, ARLIS/Central Plains, where I now have a group of valued colleagues.
So what has ARLIS/NA meant to me? It has been the source of education, of support, of information, of fellowship, of wonderful conferences, of opportunities to visit different cities and get special tours of the art and architecture, to attend incredible parties. ARLIS/NA has been there throughout my professional career as my primary professional organization. Many of you won't realize that there was opposition to the founding of ARLIS. Some art librarians felt we should ally with Special Libraries Association and work within their structure. Some felt ALA, as the most prominent library organization, was the right home for us and others lobbied for uniting with College Art Association. But there was something about having our own Society and our own conference--a conference that would allow programming to address our needs and allow us to visit a variety of locations where our local members would host the conference and show-off the local sights.
There's something about knowing our colleagues across this continent and being able to call on them for advice and help. We see reference questions posted online, requests for advice on vendors and equipment, notices--especially right before conference--of volunteer opportunities to serve the Society.
My advice is to use ARLIS/NA. Make it your professional association. If you don't like some of the policies or practices of the organization, get involved and help shape the future. If you want a Directory of Members, as I do, let the officers know. If you ever feel the conference programs aren't relevant to your needs, volunteer to develop something that does address a topic you care about--chances are that others will be interested as well.
Use the connectivity available through ARLIS/NA. I love the fact that I know the director of the library at the Metropolitan Museum of Art or the director of the Fogg Library at Harvard. If you or one of your clientele has a special request that involves another art library--impress your patrons, drop some names, and use your connections. Many of us work in single-staff libraries or as the only art library specialist within a university, a museum, or a public institution. We need each other.
I regularly prepare a report on the ARLIS/NA annual conference and distribute it to the entire KU Library staff. I report on the program sessions that I attended and provide links to any handouts or Power Points, I talk about the museums I saw, the tours I took, and I always report on the parties--I am the envy of the Library that I have such a great organization.
Being an art librarian has been the perfect career for me. Several years ago, we had a new Library Dean who asked me, "Susan, why haven't you ever become an Assistant Dean?" My immediate reply was: "but why would I? I'm already an art librarian."
May each of you be blessed with the same sort of LUCK that I've experienced in having a career in a field that you love--and I hope that I've given you some idea of why receiving this award from ARLIS/NA and my colleagues is so meaningful to me. Thank you.
Receiving the Distinguished Service Award is such an extraordinary honor because is comes from you—from my peers in the art library and visual resources professions. What in the world can I possibly say at this time that would have meaning or relevance to each of us. Thanks to Lyn Korenic you have heard an embarrassingly long description of my career. When I received news of the award in December, I was sitting in an Art Library in Bangkok—Chirayoo Dasri’s office preparing to give talks about my library and ARLIS/NA for librarians, and library school students and faculty at two universities in Thailand. At that time my response was stunned disbelief—I really thought Ted Goodman’s e-mail was for someone else. Being in Bangkok, learning about Thai art and university libraries, and sharing information about what we do in North America just seems to be part of what I have been doing since I started working in the Slide Room at Indiana University in 1966. Indeed, you cannot imagine my excitement in discovering a wall of projected slides and drawers of slides in the University Arts Library in Bangkok. My journey first to explore the world of slide libraries and then art libraries has never stopped. My desire to learn about our diverse collections has taken me from visits to most of the major slide & photograph libraries beginning in the late 60s, to art libraries in China in the 90’s, and then to Thailand last year.
Over these past months, I have given much thought to my remarks this evening. I have tried to recall the comments of past recipients, Bernard Karpel, Antje Lemke, Caroline Backlund, Jacqueline Viaux, Wolfgang Freitag, and Bill Walker. Much to my great pleasure, I announced the award in 1993 for Luraine Tansey when I was President. What a fantastic opportunity since she represented my slide library roots in the profession. After Luraine, awards were made to Mary Williamson, Lois Swan Jones, Bill Dane, Toni Petersen and Pam Parry. These individuals have represented important role models and often mentors for me as well, and I assume for many others here tonight.
This joint conference with VRA is especially meaningful for me since I began my career as a Slide Room Clerk. My first mentor was the head of the Fine Arts Library to whom I would run every time I had what seemed like a really unusual idea for making the slide collection easier to use—ideas like source & order records for slide production, and what she told was an authority file for artists’ names. One day, she just looked at me and said, "BJ, you think like a librarian. Go to library school!" And the rest is history. My career has always been blessed by extraordinary individuals who encouraged me, challenged me, and provided role models for achievement with compassion. This evening I talk to you as members of my professional family of art librarians, visual resources professionals, art book dealers, and print, slide, and electronic publishers. Today, we represent such extraordinary diversity in the vast range of print, multi-media, electronic and visual documentation that encompasses our daily work lives. When I began in the FA Library in 1969, we only had two pieces of electrical equipment—a timeclock and an electric eraser used to correct catalogue cards. Actually when I was in the Slide Collection, I was responsible for more equipment including light tables and viewers plus 35mm and lantern slide projectors. Today, our libraries and visual resources collections have so much equipment—electric, electronic, and digital that we barely keep pace with how to use it all let alone maintain and upgrade it on a nearly annual basis.
All these changes have occurred because of our pursuit of excellence as art librarians and visual resources professionals. We as individuals have been at the forefront of change and innovation in our professions.
When I began my research on the book Slide Libraries in 1968, I had the good fortune of meeting Eleanor Collins, Head of the Slide & Photograph Collection at the University of Michigan. She was so warm and generous, encouraging me to complete my research on slide libraries in the U.S. and recognizing that this was the first such study ever done on this type of "nonprint" or image library. Eleanor became first my mentor in this yet rather undeveloped area of slide or image librarianship. Shortly after this meeting, she invited me to present a paper at the first College Art Association session devoted to slides & photos at the 1969 Boston conference. Other important influences at that time included Nancy DeLaurier at the University of Missouri at Kansas City whom many of you know was also the founding member of VRA, Helen Chillman, Slide & Photograph Library at Yale University, William Dane, Art & Music Dept./Public Library of Newark NJ (including the Slide Collection), Margaret Nolan, Head of the Photograph and Slide Library at the MMA, and Luraine Tansey at UC/Santa Cruz where she helped to develop the first computer-based indexing system for a slide collection. Many of these individuals formed the first "formal group of slide & photograph professionals" which we called the "National Steering Committee for Slides and Photographs" which, as I recall, was led by Nancy DeLaurier and Margaret Nolan. With the early 70s, other significant visual resources professionals also influenced my work including Sara Jane Pearman, Cleveland Mus. Of Art, Christine Sundt, then at the Univ. of Wisconsin, Rosann Auchstetter then at AIC, Eleanor Fink then at the National Coll. Of FA, Smithsonian, Helene Roberts heading the Visual Collections at Harvard University, and Carol Terry then at Stanford. Many may not recall that Wolfgang Freitag, Harvard U., also was an early advocate for the promotion and recognition of slide libraries and, at his request, I co-authored with him, one of the earliest papers on this topic for a book on Nonprint Media in Academic Libraries published by the American Library Association in 1975.
The late 1960s was an especially fertile time for professional movers and shakers. At an ALA meeting in 1968, Florence DaLuiso, State University of NY at Buffalo, Wolfgang Freitag, and Herbert Scherer, University of Minnesota, were lamenting the sorry state of art librarianship in America noting the critical need for our coming together to discuss and share our concerns and problems. This casual meeting resulted in DaLuiso’s application and receipt of a Title II-B grant from the US Office of Education that funded our first conference solely dedicated to art and visual resources concerns—known as the Buffalo Institute held in June 1969. Do you know that nearly half the speakers at the meeting were slide and photograph professionals—Eleanor Collins, Luraine Tansey, and myself. The art librarians included Judy Hoffberg then at University of Pennsylvania, Wolfgang Freitag, Bill Walker then at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and Bernard Karpel, Art Librarian at Museum of Modern Art. It was shortly after the Buffalo Institute that Judy took off to England to gather information about ARLIS/UK & Ireland which had just been founded in 1969. In 1972 ARLIS/NA was born. The Slides & Photographs group in the CAA shifted their focus to the Mid-America CAA and by 1982 VRA was founded. All of these individuals and events helped to shape my professional life.
Not only have I been blessed with extraordinary role models and mentors throughout our profession, I also have had the benefit of working with many outstanding students beginning in the early 1970s. My first student contacts were through the art history research bibliography course which I have taught since 1969 and then through library school internships. Some of my earliest students have become important leaders in our profession and I am so proud of their accomplishments. They include Katherine Martinez, Harvard U., Elizabeth Byrne, University of California/Berkeley, Jane Carlin, Univ. of Cincinnati, Phil Heagy, Menil Foundation, and Betsy Peck Learned, Roger Williams University. By the mid 1980s I established the dual ma/mls in art librarianship at Indiana University which gave many of us an opportunity to study formally our professional literature and heritage which has evolved through the work of the individuals whom I have named as well as many others. I know many of these former students and IU colleagues are here this evening and I applaud each of you and am most grateful for your being part of my IU family. [PLEASE STAND IF YOU HAVE WORKED AT IU OR BEEN AN IU STUDENT—I know many of you are here tonight in ARLIS & VRA!]
In the middle of MY library journey in the world, another remarkable librarian and visual resources professional became part of my Fine Arts Library family in 1975—Eileen Fry, our Slide Librarian at Indiana University, who is well known throughout both the VRA and ARLIS/NA serving as an important contributor and conduit between the worlds of printed media and visual resources, and more recently between the worlds of print and digital documentation. It was also because of Eileen that a second edition of Slide Libraries was published in 1979. When I need education about the visual resources world of digital and electronic media, and about classroom technology, as well as immediate wisdom on any topic, I go to Eileen.
Why do I share what may seem like ancient history with you? I do so because it is a reminder of where we have found our strength and courage to lead the library and visual resources professions into the 21st century. Each of us has pursued our passions to be part of a dynamic and innovative profession which draws its beauty and endurance from the visual arts. At Eileen’s encouragement several years ago I began to paint again, returning to what brought me into this profession in the first place—a love of art. I would hope that all of us, if not already, have found ways to stay connected to the extraordinary beauty and richness of our subject discipline which represents the heart of our professions. We are incredibly productive individuals, but I also think our lives need balance to stay productive throughout our career lifetimes. Christine Sundt calls this connection to art her "cheap therapy". This balance of physical, mental and creative activities is how I stay active and focused in mind and body. And, I encourage each of you to continue to find this balance in your lives and to continue to draw strength, wisdom and well being from the incredible professional families represented by ARLIS/NA and the VRA.
Thank you very much, Liz, for putting together those comments. I don't really know how to respond. Well, there are lots of ways I could respond. I threatened Liz with a dada poem of mismatched meter and no rhyme, composed mostly of MARC field and AACR rule numbers. You're lucky because I'm not a poet. I would much rather sit in a circle talking about cataloging issues than stand in front of you all. But you all are what has made this so enjoyable and relatively easy. I'm really glad that librarianship is a collective activity.
I have been incredibly lucky to find a profession that used my native abilities to stick things in pigeon holes and to describe how things are alike and different. It seems to me that is what cataloging is about. My office neighbor says that the scholars are spending their efforts breaking the boundaries and it is our duty to apply some organization.
You have probably heard it argued that original cataloging is difficult. My colleagues in the visual resources arena say they do only original cataloging. But you don't want to be too original because you would be doing a disservice to the user of your cataloging record. You want to find the similarities to other items you've cataloged. It goes back to Cutter's principles of finding something when you know the author or title, or finding what a collection has on a particular topic. You want to say that author's name the same way each time. You want to express a subject in the complementary way and provide references between related subjects.
Cataloging is always evolving and the past couple weeks have been particularly exciting, as well as frustrating and just confounding. We were greeted this past week with a news release describing a conflation of OCLC and RLG. It is my sincere desire that the wealth of RLG's special programs doesn't get lost among the incredible resources of OCLC. The conflation news followed by only a few days the shocking news that LC would no longer try to control series titles. They're responding in part to a lot of early retirements a few months ago. Many series titles will be just fine, at least in LC's system, the way they plan to do series access in the future. But it's still a shock to the system -- personally and the cooperative cataloging world -- to think of letting series titles just go meander into keyword territory.
We're still trying to figure out how our library catalogs can effectively interact with other means of access like web browsers. That's not new, of course, since you always had to combine the catalog search with a visit to the indexing table or the archives. The seeming ease of electronic access makes us want to have one-stop shopping for researchers at the same time we know that it can't be easy, the synthesis of information is not something that can yet be automated.
My first library job was in the mid-1960s at the Ceramics College Library in Alfred where our work was guided by Lois Smith, a wonderful librarian and Quaker. Her approach to life and work has been an inspiration throughout my career. That was my summer and vacation job; during the year, I was the student worker in the slide room at SUNY New Paltz. The ability to combine love of art with work was too splendid. It was wonderful to be getting out of grad school and library school, and entering the library profession, just as ARLIS/NA was getting off the ground. If I have been able to help new ARLISers into the fold as I was helped, it will have all been worthwhile.
I do value beyond words the people I've met, the things I've learned, the wonderful places we've been, and I thank you from the depths of my heart and soul for this high honor. By the way, I don't plan on retiring right away though I do share my birth year with Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, Cher, Bette Midler, Goldie Hawn, and a whole bunch of other boomers.