Fallen Hubris

When I was in graduate skool, I did a couple of internships. (Something you all should do if you are currently in library skool-- and I mean all y'all). One of them was at a local public library, which I adored. I loved everything about it. I loved the incredibly helpful manager, who always went the extra mile for every patron. I loved the librarians, who took so much time to chat it up with me and show me all kinds of ropes. I loved the circ staff, who encirc'd me with their camaraderie. It was the single most important experience that I had to help me figure out if I was cut out for this library racket, and I was lovin' every minute of it. It was great.

One thing I wasn't loving, however, was the state of the various display areas that I saw. You know what I'm talking about. Bulletin boards and shelf space dedicated to marketing our collections and services to the public, and holy madonna in a weddin' dress, did it look like ass. Stodgy ass. If there's one place in the library that markets our dusty bunhead stereotype, it's the display area. Every time I would look at one, I would shake my head and think: out of touch, out of time. "My displays shall never look so shitty nor shoddy," I silently vowed. I went home and gleefully told all my arty friends about the state of library displays. "Wait until I'm a librarian," was my inner monologue, "I will rock the library world with my display talents! I will plaster the library in the grand tradition of Lautrec and Glaser! It will be art! It will be hip! Check it and see!"

Well, here I am, a librarian, with my very own display space upon which I can unleash my crafty goodness for the masses to enjoy. And you know what? I take it all back. All of it. It's not art, it's not hip, unless you are of the Huey persuasion and think it's hip to be square. I'm ashamed of my hubris (that sounds dirty, doesn't it?) and am saying Uncle on the mat. So this post is all about me getting the snooty out of my patootie, and warning all you baby librarians out there: there's a reason for the (bad-display) season.

I think I'm a bit more creative than the average bear, but I haven't been able to walk the walk with this one, and I'll tell you why. After I tell you this, you are never again allowed to snicker at a library display! Never ever.

First, there is a drought of time. Yes, I have a lovely painting on my wall at home that I am proud of and makes me the head of the Pretty Committee at home. But it took me days to complete. I don't have days to complete a crafty project at work. Hell, I don't even have an hour. I have minutes. Sing the Jeopardy song and that's about the length of time that I have to do a display. I hadn't considered that when I got all Clinton-Kelly-critical of other librarians. So lesson one: no time. Tick tock and it don't stop.

The other thing that makes display work so maddening is the paltry supply budget. There are many things that need to be paid for, and getting us good accoutrements for displays is not on the top of that list. So I'm stuck with two sets of colored paper (pastels and flourescents), a pair of scissors, and a stapler. That's it. If I can scrounge up other stuff on my own, that's great, but that's all that's in the supply closet. Ain't nothing else in there.

So, considering what we have to work with, my attitude has completely changed. The displays that librarians come up with using no supplies and less time is completely genius. It's art on the run. We're making art out of nothing at all.

So next time you see a library display, be impressed. Even if it's a mylanta colored stick figure floating above a pastel blue sea with the caption "jump into reading!" emblazoned across the top. We're squeezing diamonds out of coal here. Well, maybe not diamonds, but at least diamelles.

Kiss the rings, I'm out.
Librarian Girl