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Adam Tessier, head of Interpretation, explains his role at the �������ϲʿ����ֳ�ֱ�� and how he partnered with community groups for “Gender Bending Fashion.”

Can you explain your role as the Museum’s head of Interpretation?

Interpretation is the place where content and experience meet. It’s about storytelling and creating ways for visitors to connect to works of art in our galleries and exhibitions. Interpreters partner with curators and exhibition designers (and many, many other people) from the earliest stages of each project.

Together, we think about the key ideas of each project, the ways in which people will encounter those ideas through things like text and multimedia—and of course, works of art—and how to create opportunities for visitors to make meaning and add their own voices. A lot of my time is spent looking at floorplans, renderings, and works of art with designers and curators, imagining how people will move through an exhibition, and thinking about how we can craft physical, intellectual, and emotional experiences that are compelling, surprising, enriching, and relevant for visitors of all backgrounds.

What initially drew you to interpretation at the �������ϲʿ����ֳ�ֱ��?

I’ve actually worked at the �������ϲʿ����ֳ�ֱ�� for my entire career, and I grew up nearby and have been visiting since I was very young. So I know and care deeply about the collection and mission and the communities we serve. But I’ve also always been a person who has trouble choosing. In school, I studied art history but also studio art, classics, music, literature, writing, French, even Swahili. After college, I completed a Master of Fine Arts degree in poetry, of all things.

Because interpretation is about art, history, politics, culture, experience design, and more—and because it requires me to work on wildly different subjects every day, for each different project—it really is the perfect job for me.

Can you explain how you partnered with community groups and other organizations or institutions on “Gender Bending Fashion”?

More than a century ago, the �������ϲʿ����ֳ�ֱ��’s founders were really clear in establishing the Museum as a civic institution—a place that would serve as a resource and a place of gathering for the people of Boston and beyond. If we want to be true to that mission, and if we want our exhibitions to reflect the experiences and perspectives of our community, the best way to make that happen is to make our exhibitions with (not just for) our community.

“Gender Bending Fashion” represented one opportunity to acknowledge the limits of our own expertise as museum professionals and embrace the perspectives and expertise of people beyond the institution as we explored subjects that truly matter to people’s lives.

The core team (curator Michelle Finamore, designer Chelsea Garunay, and myself) spent nearly two years collaborating with individuals and groups from the area. We held roundtables and focus groups, hired interns and consultants with varied experiences, and had countless valuable conversations. In the end, the exhibition reflects the thoughtful and generous work of hundreds of people, and the interpretation includes contributions from more than twenty different individuals from around Greater Boston. I believe that an exhibition shouldn’t be the final statement on a subject, but the start of a conversation that continues with our visitors and community—and “Gender Bending Fashion” really does try to embrace that idea.

What is your favorite piece in the Museum and why?

Well, since I’ve established that I have trouble choosing, this is the toughest question! I’ve always had a thing for Manet’s painting The Street Singer, which has a kind of modern poetry unlike anything else in the collection. But my heart really belongs to Goya—thanks to our astounding collection of his works on paper, and to the influence of Stephanie Loeb Stepanek, curator emerita of Prints and Drawings. Our exceedingly rare working proof of his Seated Giant aquatint is my favorite: perched at the edge of the world, he looks over his shoulder, stirred by something, brooding, maybe even melancholy, as night shifts to day.