How to Close a Museum... well
- Paul Baker
- Aug 11
- 4 min read
Updated: Oct 10
The tragedy of closing a museum or heritage site is often obscured by the sheer volume of tasks that demand attention. Those involved work tirelessly in challenging circumstances, striving to maintain professional standards while carrying the emotional weight of a lost battle. While the curatorial responsibilities during closure are well documented, this blog reflects on the emotional toll, the organic nature of closure, the importance of communication during such a critical time, and finally with undertandably high emotions, whether it can ever truely be handled well.
A Shared Loss
Closure is always a communal loss. For employees, it usually means uncertainty and redundancy. For trustees or councillors, it represents the end of a long and exhausting campaign to resolve issues; and the start of a new set of challenges. Communities often rally in defence of their museums, mobilising public protests or appealing to MPs. Sometimes these efforts succeed, as in the case of Abbey House in Leeds. But in other instances, like the closure of Cannock Chase Museum, they sadly do not. The impact of such losses lingers, and the sense of defeat is felt deeply by all involved.
In most cases, staff and local residents will fight passionately for their museum. Yet when these efforts fail, there is no one on hand to tend to their metaphorical wounds. In rare circumstances sites may close without notice. While this might occasionally be justified or unavoidable, it compounds the trauma. Without proper communication and time to mourn or mount a campaign, councils or boards face public backlash, demands for answers, and a deeply mistrustful community.
Managing the Process
Closing a museum is not a single decision, it is a complex, ongoing process. Bills must still be paid. Communication becomes more important than ever. Press interest increases. Even as the closure progresses, possibilities for a last-minute rescue might still be explored. If rescue is no longer viable, then difficult conversations about debt, building use, security, and legacy begin. Sadly, those tasked with overseeing the closure rarely receive sympathy; they are often blamed, whether fairly or not, for the institution’s demise.
Museums are deeply loved. Their loss invites strong emotions; anger, grief, frustration. It is common for people to seek someone to blame or ways to intervene. Most often, these are simply the expressions of people struggling to accept something they cannot change. It is evidence of how important the site was to the community.
Principles for Better Closure
There are, however, some principles that can help manage closures with care and dignity:
Prioritise clear communication: Use social media and local networks to share updates and prevent misinformation.
Involve key voices: Engage local councillors, community representatives, and skilled experts early on.
Seek sector support: Organisations dedicated to museum support can offer vital guidance—use their expertise.
Be open with the press: Maintain transparency, and if there’s a possible rescue route, invite the media to be part of the process.
Keep perspective: Remember that this isn’t about individual blame. A wider tragedy has occurred—allow room for resolution and healing.
Protect wellbeing: Look after your own mental health and be mindful of the emotional impact on others.
The Bigger Picture
Thankfully, large-scale museum closures have not become widespread. But the threat is constant in an era defined by economic instability and shifting cultural priorities. As I’ve discussed in previous posts, museums exist in a precarious balance, some flourishing, others struggling to justify their continued existence. Even in more stable times, closures have happened, while new museums have also emerged to address evolving social and cultural needs.
My first role in the sector was as part of a team working on a millennium project in which a new, modern museum replaced an older institution. While the official narrative focused on progress, economics were a significant driver. The new site offered regeneration opportunities and better infrastructure, while the older museum, though cherished, was hindered by location and access issues. A museum had to close for the new one to be born. These decisions are never entirely neutral. Financial realities, political agendas, and public sentiment all play a role. And the way a closure is framed depends entirely on who is telling the story, and what they have to gain.
Who Tells the Story?
Winston Churchill once said, “History is written by the victors.” This is especially true in the politics of museum closures. Today’s economic climate, shaped by austerity, Brexit, and global instability, makes it easier for local authorities to present themselves as reluctant heroes, forced into hard choices. Budget cuts become scapegoats, and those pushing for closures can cast themselves as defenders of culture navigating impossible odds.
We’ll continue to hear phrases like “difficult decisions” and “fighting for our communities,” but often, the reality is that closures offer a convenient means of retiring what may be seen as inconvenient institutions. The independent museum sector lacks the same accountability structures, and in many cases, there’s no formal mechanism for holding anyone responsible. In such instances ineptitude and poor practices can be buried beneath an official statement. However, it should be acknowledged that whether councillor or volunteer trustee, no one leading this process has any notion of how it is done. If anything, this just strengthens my argument for sector engagement and humility.
So, what can be done?
Museums must act before they find themselves in crisis. Strategic planning and commercial reviews are essential. Operational and financial resilience can prevent closures—and ensure no museum governors need confront this unenviable process.
Paul Baker
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