Observations and Fieldnotes
This is my first assignment for my qualitative research class. The assignment was to conduct 2 one-hour ethnographic/observational research sessions in a place of our choosing, take field jottings, and then convert them into field notes. I selected a museum, because I like museums, students are always hanging around drawing in them, and mostly because I'm interested in the cultural institutions and surrounds that structure how people engage with art and design.
I enjoyed this experience a great deal. I've done maybe 200 research studies professionally, and I've never done them "correctly". That's not to say that we're learning a purist approach to methodology, but as an example, I've never actually written up fieldnotes; instead, I've leaned on my photographs, scribbles, and audio recordings as artifacts to drive synthesis. I'm increasingly aware of the speed of my memory deterioration after an experience, and this sort of emphasized for me how quickly details fade; between experiencing something, jotting it, and then writing full notes in my truck immediately after, I lost so much resolution and fidelity.
Anyway, fieldnotes below.
Fieldnotes 1: Jan 14, 2026
I go into the museum and the bored woman behind the counter looks at me, there is a parking log book on the desk in front of her, which is maybe how the people pay for parking except for me. I say one please and she explains that there is a separate exhibit that is special that I can go to but I don't have to. I pay. She gives me a sticker and I put it on. I ask for a map and she seems put out but gives me one. It’s a visitors guide and I don’t read it but it’s long and thin so I put it in my back pocket.
I go towards the main entrance into the exhibit, through a quiet hallway which has no one in it. Every few feet there are items in large glass cubes at about eye level. It looks like older Chinese sculptures; I didn’t look to see what the exhibit actually was when I went in, but it appears that there are terracotta figures. Some of the cubes have drawings in them, which have a childlike quality to them.
At the end of the hallway are double glass doors, which lead to the main exhibit space. I pull one of the doors and enter, and I notice right away that it’s very cold and has a dim but not dark quality to the light, even though there are windows. In front of me is an open space with exhibits on the walls and in cases. To my right is a wall. To my left is a small room, and in the room I see an older woman, perhaps 75 or 80, with short white hair, sitting on a bench and leaning over. There is a group of about 7 kids gathered around her. The kids look to be about 12 years old; they are mostly girls and seem to be paying attention. The woman is handing around artifacts and talking about them. I see the children pass the items around, and overhear the woman say that in China, there are lots of things that symbolize longevity and that longevity is important to the culture. I see that there’s another woman standing in the background sort of hovering, and it seems like she’s sort of listening but also paying attention to what the children are doing.
My attention moves to directly in front of me. About ten feet away are four middle-aged people (perhaps in their late 50s), two women and two men. The men are slightly older, one with a belly, and both with little hair. One of the women is a brunette and the other who looks older has long, silver hair. She’s wearing a colorful patterned shirt. All four are in front of a large poster, but I can’t read it from where I am at. The brunette points at the poster and says “Remember, we saw a movie about that?” but none of the other three people really respond. The men have their hands in their pockets. I hear them then start to talk about the Silk Road, and the group laughs at a joke one of the men says, but I can’t hear it.
The silver-white hair woman bends down to look at a part of the poster that is very low to the ground, perhaps one foot up, and says “this is interesting,” but the other three have wandered away. One of the men and the brunette are walking by an old wooden table. The man pats it, and the woman says “It says ‘do not touch’” and they both laugh, and then continue to sort of amble away.
I’m overhearing the children and the teacher again. The teacher is explaining that “every culture has myths, their own beliefs and unique things they do.” She explains that her mom used to throw salt over her shoulder and that she thought that was strange. It looks like she’s making an effort to engage the children, asking them questions making eye contact with the ones I can see. Most of the children have their backs to me.
The Group Of Four has split. Two of them are out of my sight. One of the men is back again, reading the poster, and the silver-haired woman is looking around.
Another group of children—about 8 of them—has come into the room. I realize that there are multiple groups of children moving across different stations, with different teachers; each of the children in both groups, I now see, are wearing the same blue t-shirts that say [remove].” These students join a teacher who introduces herself to the students as Miss Smith. She has a black tote bag over her shoulder, looks to be about 70, and speaks with an accent. She stands in front of the aforementioned poster, and asks the children how old they think the United States is. One of the children says it is 250 years old, and she agrees. She points at the poster, and now I know it’s a timeline because she points at it and describes that the US began here, but China began there. She says, “Our history is so small, but theirs is much longer.” That seems to be the only thing she intends to say about the poster, and she leads the group to another location.
The older teacher has continued with the same group, and is now explaining that in China, “Girls had the wealth. Girls were important, and we like that.” One of the men from the Group Of Four has gone into that room and is looking at an exhibit right behind the teacher, with his hand holding his chin. It appears that he’s listening to her lecture. She’s passing around artifacts to the children, and she says “remember, every culture has their ideas about how things happen.” She explains that Chinese people believed in dragons, who made the rain, and rain was important. She says that “without rain, they would starve to death” because they eat a lot of rice and rain helps rice grow. The afterlife is also important, she explains to the children, but doesn’t explain why.
I’m sitting on the floor observing all of this, and it occurs to me that the floor is very smooth wood, hardwood, and the lighting is nice and subtle. It’s a very relaxing space, even with the different conversations sort of blending. Across from me is an outdoor area, with a life-size sculpture of a figure, bounded on both sides by green shrubs. The light is falling on one side of the sculpture and it looks very ancient.
The teacher is still passing items around; now, she’s passing chunks of raw material. She asks “What is this made of?” and one of the students responds that it is jade. The teacher tells the group that “you guys are pretty smart.” She explains that jade was only for wealthy people and if she had jade in China a long time ago, she could be put to death. The children do not appear worried about that.
I get up and walk about ten feet forward, to see what is around the corner. I can still hear the group, but can’t see them.
I see three of the Group Of Four again, sort of just wandering around, not talking to each other and not really looking at the exhibits. I hear the silver-haired woman ask “where do you want to eat?” and the other woman telling her that there is a restaurant in the museum. I’m hearing this and the two children’s groups at once, and it’s blending together. The room feels a bit like a maze.
I see the missing fourth man walking around slowly with his hands in his pockets, and the silver-haired woman comes back. He hurries towards her, and she explains that “they want to get food.” They leave.
I move closer to the second group of children with the British woman with the tote bag. She’s talking about mirrors, and points at an exhibit. She describes that the mirrors in the exhibit are made of bronze. I sit on the ground on some strange square panel that is embedded in the floor, disrupting the flow of the nice wood. I notice that behind the group of students is a massive poster of Terracotta Warriors, probably 60 feet by 20 feet. The woman is asking the students which of the things they saw in the whole exhibit is their favorite, and one child answers that she liked the mirrors; the woman agrees, and explains that “a lot of people love that.” It seems that she is stalling and is done with her part, but the other group hasn’t come over yet.
The kids she’s speaking with are all squeezed onto a small bench. They don’t look bored, but only a few look engaged. The woman then seems to notice that the other groups are finishing, and she tells the children that it’s time to go, because “we want to make sure to get you out of here so you don’t miss your bus.” The group leaves—there’s sort of chaos as all three or four groups of children leave—and I head back into the first room where the white-haired teacher was sitting. She’s putting the items back in Tupperware containers, and the other teachers have come back to help her.
I hear them talking about the students. She says that one student in particular was great. She explains that she told him “You are so close to being awesome and I want you to cross that line one day!” It seems like idle chit-chat. The other women leave.
I approach the woman, sit on a bench near her, and tell her that I overheard her teaching and I appreciated how patient she was with the children. She thanks me, and said that she’s retired and has been doing this for 20 years. She’s a volunteer and was previously a teacher, and she likes teaching, but she’s 80 and her kids want her to stop exerting herself so much. But she likes volunteering a great deal, and feels that it’s interesting to hear what the kids have to say. As she’s describing this to me, she’s still putting objects back in Tupperware.
The other women come back and one says to me that they need to move the bench I’m sitting on. I offer to help and we carry it into the other area of the gallery. I ask her if she has been teaching at the museum long, and she says she’s been retired for two years, has been teaching there the whole time, and loves it because she is always learning.
All of the women leave, and now the room is suddenly quiet; there is very faint piano music and only very quiet murmuring. It feels like a force of energy has left the space, and the space feels calm; it feels like the way the space “wants to be.” I see only two people left in the entire exhibit hall. They look like college students, wearing big pants. One has an oversized hoodie on. They seem shy. The girl sneaks eye contact with me and then they leave.
I give them a few minutes so it doesn’t look like I’m following them, and then I leave the space. I reverse my path back down the hall, past the entrance desk, and then leave the museum. As I’m walking out of the courtyard past the restaurant where I had lunch, I see the Group Of Four having lunch together at the end of a long outdoor hallway.
Fieldnotes 2: Jan 21, 2026
Back at the museum again; two buses up front. I didn’t realize the children’s part of this was such a large portion of the museum’s programming.
I have lunch, pay, and this time, head to the other wing of the building. I enter the room that’s unmarked, or at least I don’t see the details, and I’m immediately struck by how much different the space is. It’s absolutely freezing. The walls and floors are unfinished. The lighting is fluorescent, or that style. There are two women in the room, and one comments on how they have the air conditioner working really well.
I head back out and in the direction of the Chinese exhibit from last time, passing back near the entrance desk. There is a woman at the front desk asking about parking, loudly, and then I notice a banner on the side.
There’s a small room I hadn’t noticed before with more work on the walls, and I head in there. There are two women looking at a painting of a person with wild hair. One of the women takes a photo of the other, making sure to get the woman and the painting in the frame at once. She’s using an actual camera, small and compact, not a phone, and that seems weird. They talk quietly, and spend about 30 seconds at each painting. They take a picture at each one.
They leave that room and head over to the Chinese exhibit, and on the way, there are about one million children running around. They are in a big room, and it looks like they are holding pieces of paper. As I get closer I see that they have been painting Chinese characters on them. They are all in a line, I think to have their picture taken. A woman with fake animal ears, presumably the teacher, is saying “We’re gonna start wrapping up.” Why does she have animal ears?
I quickly move through the chaos into the exhibit area with the Chinese items. The two women are staring at the giant wall poster that I remember from my last visit. One is pointing at the Song Dynasty on the timeline, and explains to the other that “This is my dynasty. I asked my Dad, ‘Are we part of this’ [points at another one that I can’t see] and he said ‘You wish. You’re not royalty.’” They both laugh, and then sort of wander from space to space.
I notice how the room is so much better than the other one; warm, comfortable, like I remember.
Two women with a stroller come in. They walk around quietly.
I see a shorter woman, about 60, with a green hat on it, next to a man with khaki shorts and a pink shirt. She’s pointing at an exhibit and asks him, “What color do you see here?” He answers, pointing at parts of the display. It’s cute, he’s about her age and I think they have a nice way of interacting. I see her read the plaques out loud and it seems like she’s trying to engage him in discussion.
She’s holding a printout, but I can’t see what’s on it. I realize that she’s a tour guide. She’s talking very slowly, like she’s worried about making a mistake. I hear her say “Let’s see exactly what I wanted to say…” and she consults the paper. Then, she asks him what color he sees, and says in a stage whisper, “say blue.” He says blue, and I realize she’s practicing. And then she is holding his hand, and turns a little and I see she has an ID badge. She continues practicing, cutting her own sentences off in midstream and critiquing them out loud. It’s hard for me to see if she’s reading the printout verbatim or not.
They walk over to another exhibit of a Chinese silk, with a bench in front of it. She begins again, and he’s looking at the silk with his phone, through the glass, with the little flashlight on. She explains a myth about something falling in the tea, and something being smuggled in a hat, but I can’t catch the details of the story.
She sees me nearby and apologizes if she’s being too loud, and I say no problem, and tell her that I’m curious about what she’s doing. She explains that she’s training to be a docent at the museum. She sees my UCI sweatshirt and asks if I go to UCI; I say yes. She’s a retired school teacher, and she’s working through the docent program, which is a “serious, serious docent program.” She’s surprised by how intense it has been and how thorough; there is an exam coming up and she’s not sure she’ll pass it. She compares it to a program at another place, which is only a few days long. This program is a month, and she’ll get a pin badge that the other docents get to wear instead of just the ID badge around her neck.
She explains that when she was a teacher, she used to bring her students to the museum all the time. If you are a title IX school, it’s free and they even give you $250 to pay the bus driver, so it’s really free.
I ask if she minds if I continue to listen to her tour practice and she says no problem. We start again, and as we walk by an exhibit, she explains that she has to skip this one with children because it’s about snuff boxes. I ask her who made that rule, and she said the docent committee; there are a number of committees she’s been asked to join, and she describes that they take doceting very seriously.
We walk to another area, and the man she is with explains that he is her boyfriend and has heard her practice three times today, and many times before. He asks if I’ve been to the Hilbert Museum, which is very eclectic. She says there is a Route 66 exhibit up right now that is great, and they both laugh.
As she starts explaining the exhibit in front of me, she appears more confident and I realize she is happy to have the real audience. She doesn’t break character like she did before, and she only briefly consults her notes. As she’s explaining the content now, I realize that I’m only halfway “on” in my own research mode; I’m actually listening to the things she’s saying about art, and thinking about art, because she’s doing a good job of explaining it.
I asked her if she has to say the different things she’s mentioning, and she says yes; she can only discuss things that are on the website. She explained that they want “artistic control.” She’s saying this as we walk to a new exhibit, and she catches herself and says “I’m not supposed to walk and talk.” She’s again taking that “I am just acting” voice, and I ask her if she has to say that, and she says yes, it’s part of the script. She explains there is a docent guild which sets the rules.
I thank them, and head out.