#museumobject

// cassette edition — signal // noise (first run, 20 units planned) A small experiment in making a record you can hold but never stream.

Got the provisional quote back today for a short run of twenty cassettes — black/white sandwich shells (Side A: white / Side B: black), on-body printing, clear cases, full J-cards. A physical split to mirror the internal one: digital-left / analogue-right, printed directly into the plastic.

This run is intentionally tiny. Partly a proof-of-concept for a future Kickstarter (vinyl, maybe even VHS music videos), but also a way of testing what a museum-object version of signal // noise can be. The core rule remains: no digital release. You can touch it, rewind it, mishear it — but you can’t link to it.

Each tape will be mailed out in a black bubble mailer, wrapped in a continuous dot-matrix scroll from Process Zine #00 (printed on the OKI). Inside the cassette case: — the full J-card — a thermal-roll DSP diagram (receipt printer) — a stray QLn420 label generated during early Second Copy tests — another QLn label used as the actual address label (All of this routed through Ezra / the Interpreter — artefacts of the machine, not merch.)

I’ll keep a handful. The rest will be sent to places that genuinely live in the intersection of sound, text, misinterpretation and glitch: Suno, The White Pube, The Quietus, The Wire, and a couple of others. Not as promos — more like dispatches from an experiment: objects carrying a signal the internet can’t hold.

No idea if anyone will actually “hear” it. Maybe that’s the point.

Back to work after the Christmas break, and this is the first thing that caught our eye today!

These big golden tiger eyes were peeking out from a box of fans!

This is an umpires fan from Japan, during the Edo period (1603-1867) it is made from wood, coated in lacquer and painted in brown, red and gold.

It was used during sumo wrestling matches to declare the winner. There is a dragon on the reverse, but he is no longer clearly visible due to wear.

The objects featured in this post provide another example of how museum collections can make history come alive. I, like a lot of people, was familiar with the rationing that took place during WWII, but didn’t actually realize how it worked. When I came across these ration books, I was fascinated. Read on to view both American and Danish ration books.

This was a 1943 U.S. war ration book for Mary Petersen, age 81 (Object ID: 1994.209.024).

Købekort Mænd (2000.264.001) was a Danish ration book for men and Købekort Kvinder (2000.264.002) was a Danish ration book for women during WWII. Men and women were issued separate books because they were sometimes used for gender specific items. The men's book was issued to Martin Taekker, and the women's book was issued to Johanne E. Jensen both in 1948.

The donors immigrated to the U.S. in the mid-1950s.

Above is a set of five different ration stamps used in Denmark during WWII (2000.264.003). The stamps are for gasoline, petroleum, coffee, sugar, coal and a type of fuel, possibly firewood. These stamps have possible expiration dates from 1947-1953.

These items help us to understand daily life during this time period.

These seemingly random objects belonged to Henry O. Thompson, who was born in the United States on December 27, 1874. They were found sandwiched in the pages of a Bible that was placed in a trunk issued to Henry when he served in the Spanish-American War in 1898 and 1899. Henry filled the trunk with memorabilia from his days as a soldier in the Philippines as well as from a brief trip to Japan on his way home. 

The lock of blonde hair (2000.268.010b) was wrapped in the scrap of paper (2000.268.010) reading, “1 can baking powder. kc, 1 cotton flannel 10 cents, 1 bunch of black ribbons 10 cents.” Also found in the Bible were multiple calling cards (2000.268.009) for Henry, members of his family, and others. It is unclear why these items were precious enough to tuck in the Bible’s pages and place within the trunk, but they provide a small and intriguing glimpse into Henry Thompson’s world and the objects he held dear.

Hi there! I’m Julia, the current collections intern for the Museum of Danish America. I’m excited to share what I get up to at the museum with all of you. 

I am primarily working on inventory of the textile collection, and I often come across cool and unusual things as I work through the many archival storage boxes, like today’s object of the day! 

This pillow (object ID: 1989.078.001)  was a Christmas present from Hedvig Andersen Carlson to her father, Julius Albert Andersen, a Danish immigrant from Copenhagen. Julius was a creamery operator, and the pillow is made out of the ribbons he received from creamery conventions he attended. The ribbons range in date from 1902 to 1931, and most are from areas in Minnesota. 

The pillow is not only visually striking, but the thought, time, and care that went into its creation make it an even more impactful part of our collection! 

My poor man finally coming back together still a work in progress but he's getting there 💕 love this little guy as stressful as he is.

Today’s object of the day are these unassuming scraps of fabric attached to a piece of lined paper (Object ID: 1989.020.044.) These fabric samples are from maternity clothes worn by donor Thyra R. Nussle’s mother, Kristine Rasmussen, while she was pregnant with Thyra. Thyra was born in 1902 in Kimballton, Iowa. 

Kristine Rasmussen was the youngest daughter of Jes L. Muller (b. 1824), who immigrated to Elyria, Nebraska in 1885. This photo (Object ID: 1989.020.018) shows the Muller siblings, including Kristine.

The writing in Danish on the piece of paper indicates that the fabric samples at the top, including a dark blue fabric with white floral designs, a white fabric with black lines and floral designs, and a maroon fabric with white floral designs, are for her “forenoon dress.” The blue fabric cost 6 cents per yard and the maroon fabric cost 8 cents per yard. Kristine may have been jotting down notes on costs for possible fabrics as she planned the clothes she wanted to make and wear during her pregnancy. 

The two pieces of fabric pinned at the bottom, a dark blue and a maroon, both with small, white polka dots, were for her “better” dresses. These materials cost 10 cents per yard. 

One final scrap of fabric rests on the back of the paper. The note indicates that this plain, dark, blue material cost “$ 37 ct. per yd.”

Although this object is simply composed of fabric scraps, pins, and a ripped and folded piece of paper, it provides a window onto a specific moment in Kristine Rasmussen’s life, and perhaps, allows modern day viewers to connect with a woman living over 100 years ago.