How Curators Collect Pieces of History as It Unfolds

The dynamic nature of the world means that anything can become an artifact, and the professionals put themselves in position to collect it

If curators had rookie seasons, mine was in 1984 when I led an inaugural exhibition for the California African American Museum called “The Black Olympians.” As Los Angeles’ stadiums were swept, roads renovated and banners hung to set the stage for that year’s Summer Olympics, I located a piece of track made from the same material as the one at the Games, allowing visitors to step into Carl Lewis’ shoes as he raced and jumped to match Jesse Owens’ four-gold-medal record from 1936.

That artifact was my foray into contemporary collecting, a common practice at the Smithsonian. We gathered a voided ticket from an NBA fan during the Covid-19 pandemic. We took in a TI-84 calculator like those my children used in school. From lunch boxes to self-driving cars, the Institution seeks out the marvels and minutiae. We never know which tiny objects today will be monumental touchstones tomorrow.

Unable to attend every Super Bowl or movie premiere, our scholars thoughtfully choose objects that capture American life. Sports and entertainment curator Eric Jentsch collected a Cubs “W” flag and baseball to commemorate the 2016 World Series parade, one of the largest gatherings in human history. More recently, the museum acquired a Shohei Ohtani Los Angeles Angels jersey from a doubleheader where he pitched and hit; his talents and cross-cultural influences tell a quintessential story of the nation’s pastime.

Museums are at their luckiest when miracles are planned. Contemporary space curator Emily Margolis aspires to acquire the zero-gravity indicator for Artemis 2, a toy that starts floating when the crew reaches space. She also hopes to go to the launch to collect signs, T-shirts and tchotchkes.

Beyond space milestones and sports legends, the vast majority of “collecting the now” carries a concern: How do we know artifacts will continue to resonate? When our curators accept objects into the collection, we agree to care for them in perpetuity—so we want to get it right.

“We work with the information that we have,” says Margolis, noting that after an item is acquired, its story can continue to unfold. Like scientists and historians, visitors often learn more from failures than successes, and emerging contexts prompt life’s big queries. For instance, Lance Armstrong’s bicycle, originally collected to symbolize a triumph, now provokes broader questions about ethics and doping in sports. 

The Smithsonian does more than store America’s objects. Our mission—our sacred duty to the American people—is to use our collections to effect a greater understanding of humanity, the kind of profound, enduring knowledge that transcends time and place.