Pinnacles National Monument: Nature made accessible

After a hiatus of several months, I’ve returned to this blog for more discussions of visitor comfort and accessibility in public spaces. Thanks to everyone for your patience while I’ve been away.

One of our recent trips that helped refresh and inspire me was a trip to Pinnacles National Monument, about 150 miles south of San Francisco off US Highway 101. It’s a little-known national park that feels as if it’s a million miles from the nearest city.

There are some excellent hikes for those who are so inclined – with wildflowers and California Condors in spring, or so I am told – but there’s a lot to see without going too far from your car. Acorn woodpeckers, for example, are everywhere.

 

In fact, you don’t even have to  leave your car to view wildlife such as wild turkeys, browsing in the woods:

There are a number of trails that are specifically designed to be accessible to visitors with disabilities. There’s camping, and motels and restaurants are about 40 miles away in King City, CA. Altogether, an easy place to refresh the body, mind, and spirit without leaving civilization too far behind.

 

Point Reyes Lighthouse: Comfort in the Big Outdoors

The lighthouse at Point Reyes National Seashore is one of our favorite day trip destinations in the Bay Area. In terms of access, one of its nicest aspects is its flexibility and open-endedness. From the parking lot to the viewing platform above the lighthouse itself, the entire experience is physically accessible to a very wide range of ages and abilities. It’s one of the best physical, psychological, and spiritual getaways around, just two hours north of San Francisco.

Even if you don’t get any farther than this bench a few yards from the parking lot, you’ll still have beautiful visit to a stunning location. (Be sure to bring warm, windproof clothes.)

The easy quarter mile road from the parking lot to the visitor center is closed to most vehicles. It’s an inviting path, with something lovely to see around every bend.

Even the signs – which are informative and well-designed, in an eighties sort of way – have gorgeous views.

The visitor center is just a small, folksy hut that hasn’t been improved or changed in at least 25 years – which I think is to its advantage. Nothing high-tech or intrusive, just functional and informative displays and very patient and knowledgeable personnel behind the desk.

If you can handle the long walk down to the lighthouse proper (and back up again), by all means do it. We have spent some of the most tranquil hours of our lives down there, sitting out in the sun, fog, wind, mist, and rain – sometimes all in the same visit – searching the ocean for migrating grey whales or just gazing out at the ocean, the birds, the occasional sea lion, enveloped by the sound of the sea and the moan of the fog horn. It’s comfort of a very deep kind.

If you are unable to go down the stairs, or not inclined, you can hang around on the upper viewing platform and have much the same experience, without the foghorn and with longer views. In all the years we’ve been going to Point Reyes, it has never been less than spectacularly beautiful and deeply refreshing to the mind and spirit, no matter what the season or the weather.

Bathroom Blogfest 2010 #3: Stuck in the doorway?

Thanks to Bathroom Blogfest 2010, I have an opportunity to share a series of photos that Beth took when we visited Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles last year. It took her so many twists and turns to get from the entrance of an upper-floor women’s restroom to the actual stalls that she was inspired (if that is the right word) to document the experience. Apologies for the blurry quality and varying exposure – these were taken quickly, during a break in the concert.

The entrance…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

… leads into a sort of foyer, which leads, through a narrow door, into …

 

 

 

 

 

… a dark, narrow hallway, which leads to …

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

… a 180 degree turn into …

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

… a mirrored area with a counter, presumably for repairing makeup, checking appearance, etc. If you want an actual toilet, you have to proceed through a narrow passage on the right …

 

 

 

 

… which leads you, finally, as if in an overly long dream, to …

 

 

 

 

 

 

… the actual bathroom stalls. Note that the so-called handicapped stall is located farthest from the hallway.

 

 

 

 

 

There are several striking things about this restroom experience: the narrow doors, the inadequate lighting in some areas, the number of twists and turns — all hell for someone with mobility or balance problems, let alone in a wheelchair or using another assistive device — plus the time and distance from the entrance to the stalls. What’s even more striking is that this building was (famously, by Frank Gehry) designed and built in the first decade of the 21st century. It’s obviously an afterthought, crammed into available non-revenue-generating space. No one was thinking of restrooms as an integral part of the visitor experience at Disney Hall.

Stuck in the 60’s? Not exactly – but for someone using this particular women’s restroom, it would be all to easy to become stuck in a doorway.

 

 

 

SF Botanical Garden: The Price of Admission

For generations, the Strybing Arboretum in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park provided a quiet, green, automobile-free refuge to one and all – absolutely free of charge. It was one of the most comfortable places in the city – a place to stroll, contemplate the trees and flowers, or just sprawl on the grass. 

Recently, however, the Arboretum changed its name to the San Francisco Botanical Garden. Even more recently, it began charging $7 admission to everyone but residents of the city of San Francisco. (Discounted admission is available for seniors, students, and children.) 

Cheap-looking, ugly kiosks have been installed at both entrance gates. Paid staff ask visitors for either the fee or proof of San Francisco residency. 

Over the course of about a month and a half, this new fee has had a profound effect on visitorship to the garden, at least in our anectodal observation: it has plummeted. 

On the Sunday before Labor Day, it was a bright, warm, sunny day in San Francisco. After a dank, foggy summer, the sunshine was a welcome relief. Normally, the central lawn in the garden would be crowded with couples, families, sunbathers, and picnickers of all descriptions. Instead, it was deserted.

Well, not quite deserted. Some local Canada geese were having a fine time.

This lack of use of what had been until recently a public space was not because there was no one in the park. Another lawn and garden area along JFK drive, just north of the Botanical Garden, was well used.

This is another case of an admission fee being a primary barrier to comfort – in spite of the fact that it does not apply to San Francisco residents. It’s a short-sighted, parochial policy that is hostile to non-residents and residents alike. Walking into a space without hindrance and being forced to flash ID are two different types of experience. Mixed groups of residents and non-residents are far less likely to just casually visit the garden. 

With San Francisco’s budget crisis only set to get worse, it’s only a matter of time until the admission fee extended to city residents as well. A public space of long standing will have been totally privatized – essentially stolen from the public. And it will remain empty.

High Line, New York City: 10th Avenue Square

The High Line has quickly become one of our favorite spots in New York City. In a city that likes to walk and schmooze, it’s where New Yorkers and visitors of every stripe come to hang out, catch a breeze off the Hudson River, and promenade.

One particularly comfortable spot, physically and socially, is 10th Avenue Square.

It’s a kind of amphitheater with 10th Avenue, directly below, as the focus. You can sit at deck level or choose a spot farther down. Viewed through a series of huge windows, the parade of cabs, trucks, and other vehicles accelerating away north on the avenue becomes strangely compelling. You feel sheltered, and yet have a great view of the people and the city around you.

What’s really cool is that this multi-layered space has been designed to be highly accessible. There are stairs, but the floor is actually a gently graded ramp that goes all the way to the bottom level in a series of wide turns.

The wood floor and benches – are they teak? – are friendly too, and pleasantly warm in the sun. The result is a wonderful public square where people go to read, socialize, hold hands, and enjoy the city – in it, yet above it. 

Beatty Museum: the comfort of small museums

During our spring trip to Death Valley, we drove up to the small town of Beatty, Nevada, just east of the national park. There, we visited the Beatty Museum and Historical Society.

The main mission of the museum is to preserve the mining heritage of the region. Which sounds dry, but in reality it’s a charming and informative place, chock-full of artifacts of daily life and work in the desert from the mid-19th century through the end of the 20th. The original building once served as a church, and the jumble of objects looks homey and inviting in there, rather than cluttered.

A few years ago, the collection outgrew the original space, and another small building was added on.

In many ways a typical small-town museum, run on a shoestring budget by dedicated (mostly unpaid) staff, the Beatty Museum turns out to be surprisingly comfortable. Its small size works to advantage: there are no problems with orientation, wayfinding, or fatigue, and you can take in a good deal of the space in one glance.

Grandma’s attic? In some ways – but a clean, organized attic, with good lighting and wide walkways. The staff has done a good job of organizing all this stuff — mostly received through donations from interested residents — into thematic sections. 

Our visit reminded me how enjoyable a well-run small museum can be. We came away with a real sense of what life must have been like in the Mojave when mining was the main engine of the economy and life depended upon the railroad.

Ticket price as a barrier to access, Part 4: Membership on the installment plan

Picking up on a thought from Part 3: Why don’t museums offer the option of paying for membership in quarterly or monthly installments?

This would make memberships affordable to a much wider slice of the museum-going public. It’s much easier, financially and psychologically, to come up with $10 or $12 a month than $100 or $120 in a lump sum. 

Payment could occur during the course of the visit. Instead of shelling out an admission fee, members could simply top up their accounts at the membership desk on their way in. Members who didn’t top up within a certain period of time would simply have their membership cards deactivated. 

Installment memberships would help promote philanthropy, because a much larger pool of satisfied members could be cultivated as donors. 

And, it would send the important message that members of all ages, incomes, and types were welcome. Talk about psychological and emotional comfort. Of course, a significant segment of current membership would be made more uncomfortable. But I’m sure new levels of exclusivity would be invented in response. Elitism knows no bounds.

Potentially, installment plans could vastly increase museum membership. Downsides would be that administrative costs would rise, membership services departments would have more work to do, and members-only events would be much more heavily attended. On the other hand, there would be more membership fees available to support expanded services. 

Membership on the installment plan could help to democratize museums while increasing their annual incomes and expanding their donor bases. What’s not to like?

Ticket price as a barrier to access, Part 3: notes and observations

One thing that struck me about almost all of the museums listed in Parts 1 and 2: the so-called senior (60 or 65 plus) price is less than general admission, and often the same as student/youth pricing. Senior discounts, which began during the 1960s and 70s when a disproportionate number of older Americans were below the poverty line, and/or living on fixed incomes in times of high inflation, have become sacrosanct. This, in spite of the fact that poverty demographics have now flipped around from those days:

Percent of Americans below poverty line, 2008

Under 18 … 19%

18-65 … 11.7%

65 + … 9.7%  (source: US Census)

Common sense would tell you that the museum visitors most in need of a break, generally speaking, would be parents with school-age children. True, family memberships can be a good deal, but that’s assuming a family can afford to pony up the membership price all at once. Again, this locks out poor would-be visitors, and those who are just kind of scraping by.

Another trend that struck me: every one of the science museums and aquariums in my little survey charges and arm and a leg for kids – even very young kids:

American Museum of Natural History (for special exhibitions, which take up about half the exhibit space): Children 2-12, $20

Boston Museum of Science: Child 3-11, $17

Shedd Aquarium: Children 3-11, $17.95

Museum of Science and Industry: Child 3-11, $9

Monterey Bay Aquarium: Child 3-12 $17.95

In contrast, most of the art museums let in children under 12 for free or cheap, and many have significant discounts for students. The art museums are more family-friendly these days than the science museums. 

This is all based on a small sample, yes, but it’s suggestive. 

Conclusions? I have none, really. Cost is only one factor that goes into leisure-time spending decisions — it won’t keep someone away from a museum if the benefits are perceived to be worth the price, and these museums are after all among the best in the country. Museums are taking it in the neck financially, and admission price is one way they can recoup. Nonetheless, I return to my original, anecdotal observation that free days bring a lot more people into museums, and a lot more people of seemingly limited means. Since the museum-going habit is formed in childhood, during family visits, I wonder if the next generation of museum-goers is being lost in the upward spiral of admission prices.

Ticket price as a barrier to access, part 2: Science museums

It’s no secret that museums as a whole are in financial difficulties; some institutions are in deep trouble, or on their way there. A typical — and understandable — response has been to raise admission fees. My question is whether, in doing so, museums are unwittingly imposing a significant barrier to visitor access. 

In Part 1 we looked at admission prices at eight leading art museums in the United States. Now let’s look at seven science centers and aquariums. As for the art museums, this is the estimated cost of admission for a family of four — two adults, one senior, one youth/student:

American Museum of Natural History: $108.50 (for special exhibitions, which take up a good deal of the exhibit space, and are heavily promoted; permanent exhibits are pay-what-you-will)

Boston Museum of Science: $75

Shedd Aquarium: $92.80

Museum of Science and Industry: $47

California Academy of Sciences: $84.80

Exploratorium: $48.00

Monterey Bay Aquarium: $105.80

Average price of admission, family of four: $80 (not including parking/transit, food, gift shop, etc.).

This is 30 dollars more than the average cost of an art museum visit — significant in that science centers are perceived to be more “family friendly” than art museums.

Some additional notes and observations in Part 3.

Ticket price as a barrier to museum access, Part 1: Art museums

How can museums, zoos, and other cultural institutions stay in business while serving visitors whose finances are limited? When does the price of admission become a barrier to access?

Anyone who’s worked in and around museums can tell you that free days generally bring in not only a larger crowd, but people who seem to have less disposable income than the usual run of visitors.

When I worked at the Exploratorium in the early 2000’s, the contrast between free first Wednesdays and the rest of the month was striking. It was the busiest day of the month, hands down; the crowd was much more racially mixed and on the whole looked much less affluent. There were more couples who looked to be in their teens and early twenties, as opposed to the usual parent/guardian types with children. There were also busloads of kids and their chaperones from schools and day camps all over northern California that likely couldn’t pay the museum’s group rates.

Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves and get involved with the exhibits as much as any other set of visitors, though. To my eye — and I must emphasize that I have no research to back this up — this was a crowd that stayed away from the Exploratorium on every other day of the month not out of lack of interest, but because they couldn’t afford it.

I suspect that this is true for museums, zoos, and aquariums across the United States. To get a sense of whether this might be the case, I did a quick survey of admission prices at a small sample of leading art and science museums across the country.

Some provisos: I did not include pay-what-you-will museums (the Met in New York, although you wouldn’t know it from their signage or website), or free ones (the Smithsonians in Washington, the Gettys in LA, which do charge for parking but even then are a bargain). I did not take into account free/reduced admission times, package deals, or membership deals and prices. These are just basic, walk-up retail prices.

Based on the general admission price for adults, seniors, and students, I calculated the cost of admission for a family of four,: two adults, one senior, one youth/student. Here are the results for my sample art museums:

MoMA, New York: $68

Guggenheim, New York: $51

Museum of Fine Arts, Boston: $65.50

Art Institute of Chicago: $48

Philadelphia Museum of Art: $58

Denver Art Museum: $31 (Colorado residents), $41 (non-residents)

LACMA, Los Angeles: $32

San Francisco Museum of Modern Art: $39

Average cost of admission, family of four: $50. Not including parking/transit, food, special exhibits, museum store, etc. 

We’ll look at science museums in Part 2.