On Tuesday, August 4, 2026, New York Times culture reporter Robin Pogrebin published a timely and relevant article concerning museums. Her article examines the New York Historical’s new Tang Wing for American Democracy and its inaugural exhibition, Democracy Matters. Opened on June 18, this $20 million, 71,000-square-foot expansion by noted architect Robert A.M. Stern includes gallery spaces, classrooms, and more. The expansion was opened to commemorate our nation’s 250th anniversary, and the Democracy Matters exhibition was a timely way to celebrate the occasion.
However, the problem at the heart of the article has to do with the light filling the gallery space and its impact on the objects and artworks on display. To remedy the issue, the museum first sought to utilize blackout shades to lessen the adverse impact of light on items. Pogrebin speaks to the museum director’s decision to remove the shades, given her choice to celebrate the architecture over the exhibition. Following this decision, 17 works were replaced with reproductions, and another three were pulled entirely from the exhibition. This move has now caused debate and discussion. Was the architecture prioritized over the stewardship of the items on display? When and why is it appropriate to use facsimiles? What are the ethics and responsibilities of museums displaying replicas?
I was interviewed for this article, and I believe it is an excellent topic for further exploration.
Trust and Transparency
For years, scholars and museum professionals have discussed and debated the idea of authenticity. These considerations are only increasing in an era saturated with artificial intelligence, deepfakes, and increasing disinformation. We, the citizens within a civil society, are often faced with the challenge of determining what is real and what is misleading in an era where trust is fragile. Meanwhile, as the American Alliance of Museums points out, public trust in museums remains remarkably high. Therefore, the methodology of both how and why museums use surrogates and facsimiles matters.
Using facsimiles to protect fragile or irreplaceable works is a well-established conservation tool. Collections are impacted by environmental conditions. It’s no surprise that paper degrades and turns yellow, pigments shift color over time, and textiles fade. Concurrently, computer tomography and other technologies enable the use of digital surrogates to safeguard collections while expanding access to and use of them. The collaborative openVertebrate project, or oVert, is a great example. Funded by the National Science Foundation, this digital repository enables broader access to physical museum specimens that are typically locked away in jars, too fragile, or too difficult for scientists, students, and the public to study without causing damage. By creating high-resolution, digital 3D models, the project solves several major problems in providing access for both science and education.
Therefore, an important consideration is how museums disclose the use of surrogates and facsimiles. A simple notation on a label is often not enough, especially given that not all visitors take time to read label copy. Instead, this provides museums with a prime opportunity to elevate disclosures while simultaneously sharing how we go about mission-critical work within our profession. Indeed, museums are mysterious places to many. Sure, visitors experience exhibitions, programs, and other activities. However, the way the work is conducted is often shrouded in mystery. Educating the public would further enable and maintain the trust that the museum field holds dear.
Architecture Versus Stewardship
Another tension this article brings to light is the desire for renovations and upgrades and the potential impact on exhibitions and collections. Museums have been hiring acclaimed architects to design building projects for decades. When successful, a signature building can redefine an institution’s civic presence, draw new audiences, and become a landmark in its own right. While these buildings might be perceived as monumental sculptures and experiential artworks, their primary function is to serve as conservation and stewardship infrastructure. Designers need to engineer light levels, humidity, temperature, and other environmental factors around the objects the building will protect, not treat them as an afterthought.
Therefore, it is paramount that curators, conservators, and collection staff have a seat at the table from the earliest design conversations, not just during installation. A gallery can be genuinely beautiful and still protect light-sensitive material, but only if that requirement shapes the design from the start. The most successful recent museum expansions tend to come from architects and conservators solving the same problem together, from day one.
When that design language intersects with the conservation needs of the objects a building is meant to house, institutions face real tradeoffs. The Tang Wing for American Democracy is a case study worth considering. It illustrates how architectural ambition and conservation needs can pull in different directions, and it’s a reminder of why that tradeoff is worth planning for as early as possible in any building project.
The Question of Authenticity
The tensions raised by the Tang Wing in Pogrebin’s article are not isolated to one museum or one exhibition. We are living in an era saturated with replicas and surrogates, and the pace of change is accelerating. High-resolution imaging technologies, such as computer tomography, have enabled new ways for users to explore museum collections in digital environments. The oVert example mentioned previously speaks to ways in which users can explore scientific specimens in new ways. Further, high-quality scanning enables users to examine physical artwork down to individual bristle marks, paint ridges, and canvas grain. Indeed, these actions can often take place from the comfort of one’s home, office, or mobile device.
Adding even more complexity, non-fungible tokens (NFTs) have created an entirely new category of “original,” minting verified editions of artworks that were born digital and have no physical counterpart to compare against. Artificial intelligence has made deepfakes convincing enough to challenge our most basic assumptions about what we’re seeing. These technologies push hard on the question of what real and authentic mean today. This will be an especially interesting question for younger generations that have experienced their lives in a digital-first context.
In sum, each of these developments complicates the questions this article raises. If a digital scan can reveal more of a painting than standing in front of the original, what does “authentic experience” mean? If a born-digital artwork has no physical original, does the replica/authentic binary still apply? If younger visitors already move fluidly between physical and virtual, does the distinction between an original and a facsimile carry the same weight it once did?
Given that museums have spent generations building public trust, these questions will be key for museums to explore over the coming years if they wish to remain both credible and relevant. As the tools for creating convincing surrogates multiply, and as public trust in institutions more broadly continues to erode, that credibility becomes more valuable, not less. The challenge ahead is not simply choosing between originals and replicas. It’s figuring out how museums remain the places people trust to tell the difference.