Present pasts or absent pasts?

Recently, I went to visit the Glorious Georges exhibition at Kensington Palace (KP), thanks to the London Interpretation Network. Historic Royal Palaces (HRP) have been doing some groundbreaking work over the past few years at KP, not least in their temporary installation The Enchanted Palace, which, like it or loathe it (I rather liked it), pushed the boundaries of interpretation practice - and this, in itself, must surely be a good thing. The last time I visited KP was over the Christmas period, when I enjoyed the Game of Crowns installation. So, what to make of my visit this time?

I suppose I have sometimes thought that interpretation in a historic house setting might be easier than in a museum. After all, you are surrounded by something authentic, a building fabric, that can help to place people in a particular time, without the need for too many words. Museums must find other ways to create atmosphere, most often through design, or rely on text, which often explains rather than evokes. Yet after today's visit, I can see the challenges of both, what they share and perhaps where they differ. Both seek to make the past present, and can only do so through fragments, whether remnants of material culture arranged behind glass or a historic building whose contents have not been constant and whose fabric has no doubt been altered over the years. Choosing which part of the past to foreground must be difficult in sites that have seen centuries of change; in a museum, at least the construct of a permanent gallery or a temporary exhibition provides instant clarity with regards to audience expectations (you hope). Whilst placing objects in glass cases draws attention to the fact that they are but the remaining small part of a rich and complex past, it does focus the mind.

Good interpretation does not distract but enriches. I loved much of what there was in the Glorious Georges. The mannequins dressed in white, music and projection in the Cupola Room brought dancing shadows into the space, suggesting lives once lived, tantalisingly near and yet far. The furniture on which the interpretation was placed was cleverly designed  in the form of firescreens, blending into the Palace but telling the story of George II and Queen Caroline in well-proportioned chunks. And the final installation in the King's Gallery was perfectly pitched; leaving the smaller space of Queen Caroline's Closet could have meant that the lengthy Gallery would feel large and impersonal. But, on the contrary, the lone mannequin dressed in mourning black, combined with a soundscape of funeral music, made this feel the most intimate room of all, despite its size, the King's grief almost palpable. I was less convinced by the smell map, which I felt removed me a little from the experience, taking me away from experiencing the environment I was in - but this might've been as much to do with my own inability to tell some of the scents apart!

In our field, many of us are striving to bring the people of the past to life in the minds of our visitors. Of course we cannot ever truly do so, but can hope to create a moment in which the past becomes present, whether through smells, soundscapes or objects, rather than emphasising its absence. For me, the Glorious Georges largely succeeded in taking me imaginatively to the Georgian Kensington Palace, connecting me with the lives of those who lived there centuries ago. Next, I'll have to visit Hampton Court to learn more of the story...