Project
+ Report

Reading the Signs at the Taubman Museum of Art, 2020

By: Shanice Aga

Advisory Committee:
Aaron Ansel, Ph.D.
Deb Sim
Chris Pritchett

Material Culture +
Public Humanities MA Co-Chair:
Michelle Moseley, Ph.D.

KEY QUESTIONS
What is the Taubman “saying” to the public?

How do spatial elements (i.e. architecture, different zones of use, hierarchies, and in exhibitions) affect visitor experience and behavior?

What elements of the architecture and design at the Taubman are attracting visitors? What is repelling visitors? How can narrative spaces and more thoughtful decisions work to make repelling elements more enjoyable/ improve visitor and community perception of the museum?

INTRODUCTION
The Taubman Museum of Art is at a crossroads as its leaders make daily decisions that require them to weigh their need to remain “in the black,” against their promise to service local communities through art exhibitions. Many of the Taubman Museum’s struggles stem from the controversial architecture of the museum building that has placed the museum in a financially precarious position since its inception. A key issue that has exacerbated tensions locally is the deconstructivist architectural design, which was initially off-putting to many in the community. Disagreements about whether the building aesthetic is in agreement with local, more traditional architectural styles, has caused rifts among those on the museum’s decision-making board, resulting in low attendance, constant changes in museum leadership, and the possibility of the Taubman closing its doors. As they continue to struggle financially, the Taubman is forced to prioritize profitable events-programming that appeals more to donors while sacrificing creative exhibitions that build relationships with non-donor visitors. Such programming has had negative effects on the quality of the museum's exhibitions, visitor experience, and community perception of the institution. It is my opinion that through an understanding of the semiotic interpretation among various visitor groups, the Taubman Museum of art can reframe the signs within their museum landscape and reprioritize exhibition content to improve visitor experience and attendance.

Over the summer and fall of 2019, while pursuing an MA degree, I worked as an intern in the Curatorial Department and Design Department of the Taubman Museum of Art in Roanoke, VA. During my work in this internship, I became interested in the semiotic aspects of architecture and exhibition design as a way to understand issues the Taubman is facing and how design can communicate “feelings of inclusion or exclusion” ultimately attracting or repelling visitors (Quinlan-Gagnon 2016). When discussing the Taubman, I argue that the museum’s architecture plays a central role as a sign that, through various interpretations, affects visitor perception and the way the museum currently operates. In this report I will explore the importance of semiotics in the museum landscape, the confluence of signs found in the architecture and design of the Taubman, and how this has influenced institutional decision-making and visitors’ perception of the museum.

By applying semiotics to the Taubman Museum’s landscape, I hope to reveal what the museum is saying to the public through its architecture and exhibition design by exploring how these signs may be interpreted by various audiences who feel either repelled or attracted by them. The communicative signs embedded in the architecture, once understood, can then be brought into conversation with new museum theories that emphasize the importance of the “visual persuasion” of the museum and the creation of “narrative space(s)” as ways to improve public perception and attendance. By understanding how its own signs function, the Taubman can better calibrate its relationship with the Roanoke community. Museum leaders can visually and narratively emphasize the positive signs and reframe the negative signs in the hopes of enhancing visitor experience (Ragsdale 2014) (Zellner 2012).

SEMIOTICS
The museum landscape is riddled with signs and symbols that are then interpreted by visitors and contribute to their overall museum experience as well their perceptions of the museum and its value as a cultural institution. Therefore, it is imperative that museum leadership understand who their visitors are and how they read these signs so that they may use semiotics as a way to engage more effectively with their communities. Scholars, following Chales Sanders Peirce, divide signs into three categories: signs of likeness (“icons”), pointing signs or signs of causality/contiguity (“indexes'”) and signs that are arbitrarily (i.e. conventionally) related to their object “symbols" (Peirce 1998). “Icons” describe communication through signs which are more straightforward as they “convey ideas of the things they represent simply by imitating them” (Peirce 1998). An “index'' has a physical connection to its intended meaning (Peirce 1998). Examples of indexes include being able to guess a person’s profession as indicated by the clothes they are wearing, or the sound of a knock on the door indicating someone is there (Peirce 1998). Because they have what Peirce called a “motivated” (i.e. non-arbitrary) relationship to their referents (“objects”), icons and indexes are more easily decoded even by the viewers (“interpretant” for Peirce) from various cultural or language backgrounds-- even if there is always room for misunderstanding.

For Peirce, a “symbol” has more “arbitrary associations” with its meaning (Ferwati 2015). We interpretants have created symbolic structures in our societies that are deeply rooted and easily linked to particular ideas, objects, concepts, and meanings. Symbols often spark our imagination and draw on widely held meanings associated with arbitrary words that we connect to larger ideas - they “have become associated with their meanings by usage” (Peirce 1998). For example a bridge can be a symbol, not just conveying a likeness of a literal bridge, but symbolic of ideas about human connectivity or friendship. A symbol “...is applicable to whatever may be found to realise the idea connected with the word; it does not, in itself, identify those things” (Peirce 1998).

It is important to note that the majority of signs we use are more complicated than just a single representation of one particular object. Often these different types of signs are used in combination with each other, or stacked, to grow in meaning and indicate new ideas and objects. The ability of a sign to plant ideas into the minds of interpretants and to convey information between dissimilar people is something fundamental to what makes a sign a sign - regardless of what type of sign it is. However, regardless of what the intended meaning is, the interpretants will, through their observation of the sign, and by using their own logic informed by their specific frame of reference, come to their own conclusions about what it means. So, there will always be a discrepancy, of varying degree, between the intention of sign-producers and the preconceptions, beliefs, and ideas the viewer has that guide their construal of these signs (Peirce 1998).

SEMIOTICS AND DESIGN
Semiotics as applied to museum spaces and designs can be thought of as “the study of signs that refer to the urban context, architectural features,” and exhibition design including the “publicity of museum activities” (Ferwati 2015). Spatial and architectural design can be broken down into categories similar to those offered by Peirce, keeping in mind the idea that signs derive meaning from pre-established, well known forms and vice versa. In design theory, these categories have been established as Pragmatic design, Analogic design, Typological design, and Symbolic design.

Pragmatic design includes vernacular architecture (Fig. 1.), meaning structures that emerge through “trial and error” with the use of whatever materials are locally available and that end up with those architectural forms or “features that [are necessary to] achieve function” (Ferwati 2015). Analogic designs (Fig. 2-3.) can be related to the idea in semiotics of “likeness” as the analogic design referent is an “element” that is “easily identifiable” - “a reminder of what it resembles” or otherwise the exact thing recreated (Ferwati 2015). Typological designs (Fig. 4) may have more indexical effects as they use physical, “familiar form(s) or structure(s) in design that invoke a familiar fixed mental image” (Ferwati 2015). Symbolic designs (Fig. 5-6) having more arbitrary referents that can hold meaning specific to a designer, a culture, or a time and place, are harder to describe and more difficult for a wide audience to understand. These designs often use symbolic elements to illustrate stories, cultural ideologies, events, or politics and, especially if done subtly, can be easily misunderstood (Ferwati 2015).

It is Salim Ferwati’s Position that contemporary museum design has shifted towards the indexical and symbolic, moving away from the familiar, classically influenced, iconic imagery we associate with public buildings and being even farther removed from pragmatic or vernacular design. Ferwati believes that this symbolic and indexical contemporary museum design 6 emphasizes “global perspective(s)” rather than local culture, “reasoning, and recognition” in response to “the advancement of information technology and ease of mobility across nations” (Ferwati 2015). Ferwati has come to this conclusion by studying the gravitation by museum institutions towards “spectacular architecture, [and] mounting large exhibitions that are showy and hugely popular”(Ferwati 2015). This is for many localities, as is the case in the Taubman, an attempt at putting their city on the global map.

I follow Ferwati in their observation of the larger shift to global referents, and the Taubman Museum of Art is an example of one such museum trying to create a globally relevant, noteworthy building to build recognition. Furthermore, rifts between more cosmopolitan audiences and more locally oriented audiences are to be expected given the clash in cultural and societal backgrounds that are influencing the interpretations. However, there is not only a rift in semiotic interpretation between global and local audiences occuring at The Taubman Museum of Art. There is also disparity between various local interpretants' evaluation of the signs and their meaning despite their similar cultural and social backgrounds. This may be due to our cultural expectations about what a museum does and what it should look like architecturally that inherently makes new architectural designs for museums a tough sell to the public.

Historically, american art museums have used “temple facades” to create “ritual spaces” surrounding the art museum, marking them as spaces for “contemplation:, “learning,” or enlightenment” (Duncan 1995). Museum scholar Carol Duncan asserts, and I agree, that through repeated use of the greco-roman temple facade for upwards of “200 years,” we, as a culture, have formed an association between this type of architecture and certain expectations for the museum experience (Duncan 1995). This includes how one should behave in a museum, how museums are organized spatially, and what the “appropriate” context is in which to view art (Duncan 1995). Although symbolic museum designs like the Taubman are “[as] equally imposing architecturally” as those that draw their form from ancient temples, alterations to these established signs that we have deeply associated with a representation of our communities, and the ritualistic museum experience also significantly alter our understanding and interpretation of these spaces and ourselves. Therefore, just as changes in the execution of religious or cultural rituals cause confusion, anger, and fractures in their communities, changes in museum signmaking through architecture and design are often divisive. Duncan further observes that “those who are most able to respond” (i.e participate in the museum ritual) to the museum’s “various cues,” or signs, “are also those whose identities (social, sexual, racial, etc.) the museum most fully confirms” (Duncan 1995). So, in order for the Taubman to better serve the community of Roanoke, it is important that current museum leadership understand why they have a contemporary museum building, who their local audience is, why some Roanokers love the building while others are put off by it, and how they can better confirm these various identities to help Roanokers engage with an altered museum ritual and understand the new signs.

PLANNING THE NEW BUILDING
Prior to the decision made by the museum’s first Board of Trustees to build their current museum facility, The Taubman Museum of Art, formerly known as The Art Museum of Western Virginia, was located on the first two floors of a brick facade building in an area called Center in the Square in downtown Roanoke . The Art Museum of Western Virginia shared this 8 facility with four other cultural organizations and achieved steady growth, funds, and attendance during their time in partnership with them. The museum was initially “focused on the work of regional artists,” however, there was a shift in the late 1990’s as the museum board began talking about “independent expansion” and pursuing larger, contemporary collections that would “require better and larger space” (Kolendo 2012). The decision to expand and build their own museum facility was a result of the restrictive gallery spaces in Center in the Square as well as issues they faced concerning a “lack of museum recognition” (Kolendo 2012). This led to constant changes in leadership as museum directors and curators were drawn to more renown museums in larger cities (Kolendo 2012). Furthermore, the city of Roanoke itself was “striving to get noticed” and the building of a contemporary museum space as a transformative magnet that could garner national or international recognition and “attract information age companies and young, educatucated professionals” could be a step forward (Kolendo 2012).

Plans were set into motion for the construction of a new museum building and the museum board was tasked with choosing the architect and type of design they were interested in. This is the first design decision, the first sign that visitors interpret, and the framework that influences all subsequent institutional decisions. With new leadership, a new name and a new vision, the Taubman Museum of Art’s board members wanted the building to reflect their goals of moving away from their focus on regional art to collect larger, more well known, contemporary pieces, attracting press and tourism, and transforming Roanoke into a more active, forward-looking community. As such, the board decided to research contemporary architecture trends in museum design that garnered high levels of media attention. They were intent on hiring one of the “top architects in the world,” in an effort to turn the heads of larger art collectors, 9 donors, and artists (Kolendo 2014) . They decided to hire Randall Stout who formerly worked for renowned architect Frank Ghery.

During the planning stages of the building, a poll conducted by the Roanoke Times showed community reactions to Stout’s design renderings of a metal and glass clad building with undulating peaks that he intended to symbolize Roanoke’s mountainous surroundings. The results were 28% in favor, 31% against and 34% undecided (Kolendo 2012). Despite this inconclusive poll data, the design had an observable polarizing effect on the local community that resulted in a wide range of opinionated news articles, a considerable rise in anti-Taubman bumper stickers, and a town hall style meeting between the Taubman’s board and concerned Roanokers to try and quell the public commotion surrounding the design (Kolendo 2012). As the design is unlike anything else in Roanoke and as the museum goals shifted from showing local artists to being more concerned with national contemporary art pieces, Roanokers opposed to the design were concerned the Taubman would no longer reflect their culture nor would it fit into the architectural context of their downtown.

Other arguments against the design came from people who were in favor of having an avant garde, contemporary building in Roanoke but felt the Taubman design was derivative rather than a truly innovative design for its context. Local architecture professor Dennis Kilper took this stance asserting that Stout’s design, despite his intention to reference mountains, was a pricey copy of Frank Ghery’s boat-like design for The Guggenheim Bilbao (Fig. 3.) that features similar forms and use of materials. Kilper stated that “because the design was imitative,” rather than innovative, “it would fail” (Kolendo 2012). Those in favor cited the successes of similar 10 building designs like Bilbao as a positive thing. Leaning in on the fact that it being the first of its kind in the area is a good thing, and that more contemporary buildings and businesses could move in and follow suit.

This idea of building a contemporary architectural masterpiece in a city to activate the community, improve the economy, and turn an unknown city into a globally recognizable travel destination is called the Bilbao effect (Moore, 2017) . This term is used to describe the trend of architects building similarly sculptural and symbolic museum designs as the Guggenhiem Bilbao to try and achieve the same success in up and coming cities that Ghery’s design had there. Ghery himself has expressed his distaste with this trend and the “architectural legacy” of Bilbao saying “I apologise for having anything to do with it” (Moore 2017). Gehry claimed that these architectural copies lack consideration for their surroundings, explaining that “[he] spent a lot of time making the building relate to the 19th century street module,” including “the history of the river, the sea, and the boats coming up the channel” (Moore 2017). To Gehry the Bilbao museum is just another boat floating on a river and the material choices and forms he chose are direct links to the local community, and boat making industry. The Bilbao’s museum director, Juan Ignacio Vidarte, also comments on Ghery’s attitude towards this stating “[Gehry is] “flattered, but at the same time concerned and nervous…many people are just trying to replicate its (Bilbao’s) most superficial aspects''” (Moore 2017). Vidarte explained that the museum design is not just about the building itself but how the building could help reactivite local industries and community members through the production of the building materials, and through the value of its connection to the local community (Moore 2017).

The Taubman Museum of Art, using Stout’s controversial design that is frequently compared to Bilbao, opened their doors in November of 2008 after over eight years of planning, fundraising, and construction. Though it initially stirred national and international interest in the museum and the city of Roanoke after a hugely successful opening week, the Taubman was soon forced to face certain realities about the museum that they had not anticipated. John Williamson, the first Taubman board president observed that “reality began to set in pretty quickly after the opening, and it’s been a struggle ever since”(Tate 2015). It became apparent that aspects other than the “adventuresome work of architecture” would be needed to maintain public interest (McHugh 2009). The importance of appealing to and gaining the patronage of the local community, not just tourists and art or architecture enthusiasts, became a priority as the Taubman in its first year of operation failed “to meet its estimated annual attendance of 170,000 people” and was struggling to cover their costs of operation (Tate 2015). The museum subsequently cut their staff by 40%, hired a new director and has attempted ever since to come up with a different strategic plan that works to “inform patrons about what it takes to have a quality art museum in Roanoke with only minimal funding” and “to help roanokers identify the institution as their museum” (Tate 2015).

Ten years after these cuts and despite further changes such as free general admission, renting out space, and community outreach initiatives, the Taubman still struggles to maintain a steady flow of local visitors. How to make people aware of what events are happening and how to get people inside the museum were major points of discussion in almost every meeting I attended during my internship concerning events and exhibitions.

ARCHITECTURAL DESIGN INTENTIONS AND INITIAL INTERPRETATIONS
The exterior of the Taubman is sculptural in form clad with large glass windows and panels of pre-weathered zinc with varying patina, luster, and directionality clad over a steel frame. At the front and center of the building, facing the street is a double height space that ends in a glass and steel point (Fig. 6). The majority of the glass is located in this front atrium area that serves as the entrance to the museum. The sides of the building mimic the large, central point in metal rather than glass (Fig. 7). These sides and the back of the building are closed off, with some smaller, rounded, irregular polygonal forms clad in metal. These unglazed, boxed-in areas contain the back of house spaces on the first floor, galleries on the second floor, and offices on the third floor. The museum sits in between the ramp of a major road and the beginning of the downtown roanoke area. Behind the building is a one-way street and fenced in railroad tracks (Fig. 8).

Stout writes that he intended the formal and material choices in his design to signify mountains like those found in the surrounding Blue Ridge to form a relationship between the context of Roanoke and the museum building thereby rooting it in the city (Stout 2014). In this way, Stout interprets the building as an icon to be read as mountains seen from a certain remove. However, as discussed earlier, semiotic interpretation of design depends largely on associations individuals, or some cultural groups have made between signs, objects, and their interpretation. It’s likely that the design of these forms result from Stout’s personal tendency and a larger tendency in architectural design communities to create iconic and symbolic links between sweeping forms with heavy, industrial elements like these and the expression of perceived chaos 13 found in natural landscapes such as mountains. Furthermore, Stouts understanding of what forms are necessary to signify mountains may also be much different than that of the local population of Roanoke given his background. The chaotic nature of Stout’s design is, for many, not representative of the local culture or local understanding of what a mountain is like. Perhaps the major disconnect lies in the local community having made a different symbolic link for a form that suggests mountains in their symbol-using minds than Stout has made.

While Stout sees the building as an icon for mountains, the interpretation of the architectural form by the public is varied with many not connecting the building’s form to the mountainside. Some relate the tallest point of the Taubman to the Roanoke Star, completely missing the reference to the natural landscape but pointing out the similarities between the steel frame, glass clad building and the Star’s own metal structure that supports an 88 foot tall star-shaped neon sign and ends in a similar, precise, man-made point (Fig. 9.). Both people who do and do not like the building refer to the Taubman museum by its nickname, the “wreck of the flying nun” drawing on the similarity of the building’s form to that of the modified, winged head coverings worn in the 1967 television series The Flying Nun (Fig. 10.) (Kolendo 2012). These types of interpretations are a result of seeing the buildings form as iconically, something that can be compared to another, familiar local structure or visual reference through the likeness of their materials or form.

Interprentants drawing positive indexical meaning from the sign-building frequently praise the Taubman’s flying nun form by likening it to other, irregularly shaped architectural masterpieces. They see the value of Stout’s design not in its iconic formal and material 14 connection to the mountains, as Stout intended, but in its indexical formal and material connection to other contemporary, groundbreaking architecture. Those who dislike the museum’s architecture, however, emphasize the wreck in the nickname, as their opinion is that the colliding forms don’t make sense and look out of place, like they crash landed there. The most prominent interpretation of this design, however, by both those who like and dislike the building, is as a symbol of technological or community advancement and change.

Ultimately, despite the architect’s intent of producing a symbolic form that mimics the mountainscape of Roanoke, the industrial material choice, similarity in form, as well as Stouts professional proximity to Frank Ghery, invoke for many the Bilbao museum that came before it. This indexical connection, combined with the above-mentioned refrents of the local population to interpret the building as an icon-sign to be likened to their other significant structure the Roanoke Star or to the costumes of a popular TV show, will likely impede on the interpreter’s ability to read the architectural sign as mountain. Furthermore, many misinterpret the intended sign simply because they will see it and immediately call up the referents of globalization, loss of local culture, transformation, and the widening of political and class divides that this style of architecture has come to symbolize for many groups. Some are delighted by this sign of community advancement and ability to connect Roanoke to global ideas. Others are more skeptical of this, feeling underrepresented by a design considered insensitive to its context by some, and raise concerns about the disconnect they feel between the museum and their local community.

THE TAUBMAN MUSEUM’S LOCAL INTERPRETANTS
The discussion so far has been about the initial, fixed sign of the architectural design and the various interpretations of it by Roanokers. Now we will focus on how co-occurrences of visual signs, like the museum architecture, use of space, and exhibitions, trigger successive instances of semiotic interpretation that vary from person to person and influence decisions made by museum leadership. Both the fixed architecture and rotating signs come together to form a whole picture when experienced by individual museum visitors as they complete their circuit. Design decisions including branding, literature, labels, museum guides, and the physical use of space rotate with each new exhibition, event, or other planned programming. The local disparity in interpretation of these signs can be better understood by looking at the various types of Roanokers that the Taubman museum is attempting to draw in, how each is being considered by museum leaders, and how this reveals itself in the visual and spatial signs they interpret throughout their visit.

The Taubman Museum’s leadership and employees themselves are an interpretant group that will help us better understand how the fixed architectural sign influences institutional decision making and the creation of new, audience oriented, rotating signs like exhibitions, branding, and events. The employees and leaders at the Taubman museum of art often view the architecture of the Taubman as a hindrance, or something to overcome. This is largely due to the fixed nature of the sign. The current employees did not contribute to the board of director’s decisions regarding the design of the building and they feel they have no control over this aspect of the museum or how Roanokers respond to it. However, they do have to deal with the effects of 16 the previous board members decision, so the museum leadership is always concerned with their financial stability and doing what they need to do to stay in the black.

Due to constant financial strain after the initial opening of the Taubman, the institution has entered an unfortunate cycle. Employees with backgrounds in curation and art history frequently leave the museum to move to more renowned museum’s in larger cities despite the appeal of working within its internationally recognizable architecture. This is primarily because the museum is located in a rural area, does not have a significant collection, and does not prioritize exhibition design as other programming is more profitable. As more employees with museum backgrounds have moved on, most of the current leadership has backgrounds in general business or non-profit work. The effect of this on the museum is that it runs more like a business than a public building. There is quick turnover of events and transformation of the museum space throughout the day to accommodate various weddings, parties, and programming unrelated to the exhibitions.

This packed schedule leaves visitors in a precarious position as they are often confused about what is happening within the museum, what is a private event or a public event, or if they are able to come see the exhibitions at all as many private events are held in the main lobby/atrium space. Because more and more people are unsure if they can enter the Taubman without an explicit invitation or event they are attending there, Taubman employees are asked to walk down the blocks adjacent to the Taubman passing out pamphlets and informing people of public events or exhibition openings. This too affects the exhibitions as employees, including the curator, are tasked with preparations for various, non-exhibition programming and 17 have to sacrifice the creativity and quality of the exhibition to fulfill all other programming needs. So, the cycle continues, as less people enter the museum to see exhibitions due to a confusing confluence of signs the Taubman remains in a precarious financial position due to low attendance, resulting in the Taubman leadership focusing their time and resources on programming they know will help them monetarily. The three main, and most profitable, interpretant groups within the local community that Taubman museum leadership prioritizes in their planning are donors, people or organizations seeking an event venue, and families with children.

The donor group primarily consists of an older and wealthier demographic of Roanokers who donate money and/or art for collection or exhibition to the museum. These donors typically have a deep rooted interest in the arts, collect their own art, and are more familiar with architectural designs including contemporary trends of deconstructivist architecture styles for museums. The Taubman museum leadership dedicates a large portion of their time and resources to write these donors emails, keep up a personal relationship with them, and throw private, donor only events in order to secure their continued support. Furthermore, without the support of donors there are many exhibitions that would not be possible. Their familiarity with the art and design world too may allow them to understand the signs and symbols that are present in deconstructivist architecture in a way that those unfamiliar with this may not. As such, the donor group reads the signs found in the Taubmans architecture and exhibition through a specific lens that differs largely from other interpretant groups. By knowing most of the Taubman’s leadership personally, contributing to the museum’s operation, and being more familiar with the architectural language, donors may feel a sense of comfort and ownership in the museum space 18 that is unique to their interpretant group resulting in donors semiotic interpretation skewing more positive than interpretation by other groups.

The event venue group of interpretants consists of couples using the museum as a wedding venue and schools, organizations, or individuals looking for event space for similar celebrations, like high school proms. Despite their demographic differences they share similar interpretations of museum signs due to their similar use and need. This group interprets the museum’s signs much differently as the museum serves primarily as the backdrop to an event. So the architecture and exhibition does not have to read well as a cohesive museum experience or relay much information at all. The signs serve primarily as a unique place for event photography. The architectural details and design decisions that could be interpreted negatively by other museum visitors are, in this case, cherished for their texture, light, and various unique features that photograph well. Families with children are encouraged to attend the museum not necessarily to see the exhibitions but to participate in various art classes or to use the Taubman’s, staffed, interactive child focused activity area, Art Venture, that charges a fee of $5 per person.

Families with children will often go to the museum if they have signed up and paid for a specific class or want to drop off their children for a short period of time in the Art Venture area. These interpretants find value in the classes and art themed kids area as guided ways for their children to engage with art and make things. While the children will engage with themes associated with the exhibitions going on, there is often a barrier interpreted by these families that prevents them from going up to see the art. There is a confinement of this type of activity to the first floor and a 19 signal to the parents that the second floor is not really where children belong. This too adds to the idea that the Taubman is not necessarily for them, and the discomfort surrounding going into the museum without a pre-planned or paid for event, class, or other explicit reason to be there. This also contributes to the stretching of the Taubman’s employees and resources and the Art Venture and classroom activities are staffed and directed by the same people who help with exhibition planning and execution.

The above prioritized interpretant groups largely do not make it into the exhibitions on the second floor as most donor-only activities, events, the Art Venture area, and education classrooms are located on the first floor. There is another interpretant group that is there solely to see the art exhibitions that includes people of various ages, single or in small groups who are interested in art, or simply want to pass the time by walking around a museum. This group who arguably should be the people the Taubman is catering to as a public museum goes largely underserved and reads the signs found in the architecture, spatial use, and rotating exhibition designs more negatively than the other interpretant groups as they struggle to find their place/flow in this museum ritual.

READING THE SIGNS--EXTERIOR
When approaching the Taubman museum there are a number of signs that jump out to these various local interpretant groups. One example is the glazing that runs across the entire front facade of the building at street level and the spaces behind it that are visible from the street. This glazing has a dark tint and there is little distinction between what is a door and what is a window. Various windows and entrances along the side that are not the main entrance are marked with small white plaques that inform visitors that this is not the entrance they’re looking for. Through the glass there is not much to see in terms of signs. There are closed doors that lead to offices and the back of house areas on the left, the atrium space that is usually empty in the center. When the double height atrium space is not being used it is mostly barren with a few tables near the stairway and a single sculpture suspended from the ceiling. When it is being used it reads like a private space you should not enter unless invited specifically.

For the donor group these glazed walls read more private and luxurious. When members of the donor group arrive and see the vast atrium space past the tinted windows they confidently walk in and know where to go due to their familiarity with the museum and their understanding that, no matter what is going on, they have good reason to be there. There is a sense of ownership over the space that they carry with them when they walk through the atrium that I think does stem from their excitement and pride in being involved with, through their donations, a museum of this type of architectural design. For them, the large, zinc-clad building reads not as closed off but as a connection point between them and the larger, more cosmopolitan, art world that often employs this deconstructivist style of architecture. The expense of the building can be felt in this space when looking at the amount of glass and the irregular way various materials meet. Rather than reading cold, closed off, or intimidating as it does for other interpretant groups, the donor group sees this space and their invitation into it during private, donor only events and openings as a sign of the future looking Roanoke that they helped make possible and their personal connection to the affluent and exclusive corners of the art and museum world.

Those in the event venue group interpret the atrium space, glazing and architectural elements as a unique backdrop for their wedding, prom, and party photographs. The emptiness of the atrium is read as a positive thing for this interpretant group as they can change the space as needed to accommodate their wedding and party themes, tables, lighting, and other decorations. For this interpretant group the tinted windows and unclear entry provide a sense of privacy and set the mood for their events. As they do not experience the Taubman as a museum, the division and disconnectedness of the lobby to the outside and to the gallery spaces is seen as beneficial for their use of the museum as a venue rather than confusing or off putting as it may be interpreted by museum visitors.

For interpretant groups like casual visitors and families this tinted view into the atrium can inform several interpretations. The main feeling people get from the exterior and lobby area, as discussed in many meetings at the Taubman, is that the museum is closed or unwelcoming. Usually, unless someone is there for a specific class or event, it is extremely difficult to get them to walk into the building as all they see walking past it is a mostly empty space, a few chairs and some staff walking around. Some may walk away from the building completely as they are confused about where to enter or if they are even open. Others, after finding the correct entrance may be confused by an event or activity happening in the main space and be unsure of if they can go in or not. Those who do go in when the museum is open often ask the receptionist if they are able to see the upper galleries or where the art is. There is no art on the first floor and nothing that signals a clear path through the entry space up to the galleries. During past events I have helped with, Taubman employees have had to retroactively set up spatial barriers, ropes, and stands indicating where to go as people were extremely confused about how to navigate an event 22 in the lobby that they were not a part of to get to the exhibition and other areas of the museum they wanted to visit.

While interpreting this atrium space through the tinted glazing of the entrance, visitors are simultaneously making sense of exterior conditions like the large, inactive sidewalk space that leads up to the museum and extends down the left side, turning the corner to create space for the cafe patio seating. Similarly to the atrium, much of this space is empty and offers little to no connection to the downtown Roanoke area beyond. This wide, barren, concrete area reads cold and empty to most interpretants, and can give off the impression that the museum is closed as there are no signs, like banners, color, open doors, seating, green space, or the presence of people to say otherwise. This lack of a relationship with the community through visual and spatial reaching out towards the surrounding area adds to the idea that many casual visitors of the museum, or for the many interpreters that walk by the museum but never go in, that this place is not for them or that they can’t go in unless they’ve signed up for a class or have been specifically invited to an event.

The most inviting and activated space on the exterior of the museum occurs when visitors round the left corner onto the patio created for the museum's cafe. This space has tables, seats, and a large, colorful mural (Fig. 11) painted by a local artist creating an environment in which people relate to and understand immediately, and where visitors want to sit for a while because all the signs suggest that they can and should. This is one of the only places in the museum where I have observed all the aforementioned interpretant groups come together to sit and enjoy a similar experience at the Taubman. It is where donors and employees eat and sometimes have meetings, many event venue interest tours and planning start and end in the cafe area, and families are grateful for a public place to sit and relax that does not signal the need for quietness or best behavior from their children.

NARRATIVE POWER
As many museums are being forced to operate more like businesses than public institutions to remain open and face struggles similar to the Taubman, new museum making theories have emerged suggesting narrativity as a solution. One such theorist, Tricia Austin, asserts that “narrative theory,” or the “discussion and application” of concepts of narrative such as “frame, sequence, or pace” has not yet been fully realized in architectural and exhibition spaces but has the potential to “create a level of storyness that will engage and transform the visitor” (Austin 2012). I agree with Austin’s position about the transformative power of narrativity and further think that, when applied, a focused narrative can re-contextualize signs such as the ones we’ve investigated at the Taubman to skew the interpretation towards an intended meaning rather than leaving it open-ended. Cohesive narrativity linking exterior and interior architecture, written text, visual or spatial signs, and exhibitions in the case of the Taubman could alter the perception of the museum by Roanokers which would allow the institution to break its current cycle and refocus its efforts on their main mission of “bring(ing) people and art together for discovery, learning and enjoyment” (Taubman Museum of Art 2018).

Austin further asserts, and I agree, that, much like narrative in literature (or theatre), narrative in exhibitions that engage the viewers intellect and imagination through the application of tools like plot or tension lead to an unfolding of narrative ideas in exhibition and architectural spaces that draw the viewer in and guide them through valuable conscious and subconscious sense-making or sign-reading (Austin 2012). This ultimately causes visitors to have a spatially transformative experience, much like the way readers can be transformed by the experience of reading a book or how audiences can be deeply moved and engaged by a movie or play (Zellner 2012) (Crawley 2012) (Austin 2012). Paola Zellner, architecture professor and museum making theorist, explains this further by observing that architecture and exhibition design framed by narrativity drives visitors through their “curiosity” and “(desire) to become familiar with the environment and understand its meaning, [to] participate more actively in the making of the experience” (Zellner 2012). This results in “the visitor’s space of imagination (being) engaged in the creative process” and an overall more enjoyable, impactful museum experience (Zellner 2012).

Using intentional, cohesive narrative throughout the museum can help visitors “organize information” and provides them with “a referential background,” from which to draw relationships and meaning (Zellner 2012). Furthermore, thinking about exhibition design and museum architecture as a piece of theatre requiring a script and “staging” elements can unify the two designs and elevate the entire experience as both exhibitions and plays are “influenced by the context in which they are viewed” (Crawley 2012). The museum experience can then be mapped onto the “performance sequence” of a play that should have a beginning, middle and end (Hanks 2012). In this way the museum can create a museum ritual sequence, or a “holistic, immersive experience, akin to the building of atmosphere in fiction” (Duncan 1995) (Hanks 2012).

In the absence of a more traditionally designed museum building (temple facade) that comes with established, widely understood signs and spatial cues, The Taubman could use narrativity and the “performance sequence” to reframe their signs and pull people through the space more naturally, ultimately altering the interpretations of the museum (Crawley 2012). This would require the museum to start at the beginning, with the exterior of the building, and stage a scene that is more active and open to draw people in rather than ignoring the exterior and hoping to catch the visitors imagination once they make it inside. This could be done through creating resting spaces for people along the sidewalk, encouraging people to activate the sidewalk space through interactive designs, exterior sculptures, or other promotional banners and signs. Even a simple act such as opening the doors sometimes or using elements that extend outward from the museum to catch people and take them in, could significantly alter the interpretations of the exterior signs. Once in the building, the Taubman staff can stage a series of signs and rooms that are not self contained but that instead relate to each other and encourage movement through the space and exploration of the narrative through this movement that will lead visitors up to the exhibition spaces rather than keep them confined to their areas on the first floor. Once in the exhibition space, the narrative can be pushed further to become more prominent as staged because it must be “informative and aid in the assimilation of the content of the exhibition” (Zellner 2012). The exhibition should not become muddled or take a backseat to auxiliary museum activities as, in the performance sequence and museum experience, it is the middle of the story, the meat of the narrative.

CONCLUSION
Through my internship, I have observed that the Taubman currently presents a confusing set of signs to its community that began with the museum’s board decision to alter their name, mission, and architecture. This has resulted in low attendance and a precarious financial situation for the Taubman, leading the current Taubman leadership into a cycle wherein they must sacrifice some of their curatorial and exhibition aspirations in favor of more profitable programming. Often sacrificing exhibition timelines and budgets to accomodate weddings and other events. The institution leaders have raised concerns about the limits and public perception of the museum architecture as a barrier, but ultimately ignore the semiotic language of the building when working on exhibitions. This further confuses the interpretation of this architecture and the perceived role of the Taubman within the community by various interpretant groups. Ultimately, there is a disconnect between what the Taubman is saying to the public through its architecture and programming as museum leaders focus on individual events, exhibitions, or sections of the building without considering the semiotics of the museum landscape or the total visitor experience. This lack of a cohesive narrative leads to a struggle in visitor understanding of what is open to them, what is private and when they are allowed in the museum. It also impedes on the ease of transition from one space to the next, making engagement with the exhibitions on the second floor more of a hurdle than a natural pull. It is my view that the Taubman museum experience instead should be thought of as a series of synchronic semiotic interpretations that can be “constructed with the same agenda” to form a complete narrative that is more considerate of the community as interpretants and will better impart their intended message to viewers. Equipped with a better understanding of the Roanoke community as sign readers and their current interpretation of the museum, the Taubman leadership could take control of their semiotics and narrative intentions to more successfully carry out their mission statement of “ bring(ing) people and art together for discovery, learning and enjoyment” (Taubman 2018).

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