Thoughts of an Uppity Grad

Exhibit Review

2010-11-17T13:52:00.001-08:00

The First Person Museum’s exhibit, Objects Tell Stories displays objects as connections to personal experience. The force behind this exhibit, First Person Arts, endeavors to, “transform the drama of real life into memoir and documentary art to foster appreciation for our unique and shared experiences.”[1] The specific goals of the museum, as identified by one of its historians, are that visitors will 1. recognize that we endow objects with value, 2. recognize that the person and his or her story is the focus; 3. be able to articulate an emotional response, 4. understand that the meaning of the object is influenced by time, place, etc., 5. will think of their own stuff differently.[2] This unique exhibit accomplished its goal of invoking emotion and personally reflective thought in the visitor but lacked the focus necessary for a meaningful experience with regard to history and material culture.

Three distinct spaces created the exhibit. In the first floor of the Painted Bride Art Center, a bright, narrow room held most of the objects on display. The exhibit designer, Aaron Goldblatt, chose to surround the objects with familiar, comfortable home furnishings to simulate their natural environment. For example, “Carla’s Ring” was displayed on an end table, next to a small, black velvet jewelry box. Plexiglas cases encapsulated the objects, distinguishing them from the ordinary items in the room. Near the object, but not always directly next to it, plaques informed the visitor of the name of the object, its owner, quotes from the owner, and the general history of the type of object on display. Most objects also boasted headsets through which visitors could listen to the story behind the object in the owner’s own words. These audio recordings repeated from beginning to end without allowing the visitor control of the moment at which they entered the storytelling. In the back of this room, a small television broadcasted an interview with one of the owner of the fishing license along with images of him fishing.

This first space appeared to be the primary focus of the exhibit. The entrance to the museum opened up into this space. It possessed the most visually stimulating furniture and design and, on the exhibit’s opening night, unceasingly filled with visitors. However, the narrowness of the room led to difficulty in moving among the furniture and the objects. Also, while the objects and plaques were easily accessible, the multitude of headphones often fell by the wayside in the visitor’s efforts to continue to move through the exhibit. In this way, the goal of the First Person Museum to emphasize the importance of memoir and express the primacy of the storyteller failed to meet its full potential, as many of the fascinating individual stories were exclusively confined to the audio segments. This also affects the goal of understanding how people endow objects with value. Aside from the objects’ presence in a museum and the historical backgrounds (which are necessarily brief and generic), the object’s value derives mostly from its owner. For the visitor to fully make that connection, he or she would need easier and more appealing access to the stories.

The final feature of the first space served to encourage visitors to think about objects of value in their own lives and recall the stories behind them. Visitors were invited to sit at a desk and provided with pens and blank cards to record their own meaningful stories about objects and post them on a corkboard for others to read. The number of stories posted, even by the end of the exhibit opening, suggested that this invitation to reflect appealed to visitors and allowed for active engagement with the exhibit. In addition to the blank cards, the writing desk also served to hold pamphlets about the First Person Arts and small booklets that told detailed stories about some objects not featured in the exhibit. These stories provided visitors with more examples as to how to write their own personal story. Furthermore, they allowed for more extensive engagement with a person and his or her personal experience than the shorter anecdotes provided with the objects physically on display.

The second space consisted of a large, open room adjacent to the main room and connected by an open doorway. Unlike the main space, this area contained only a few items. Instead of a cozy, home-like combination of furniture and personal objects throughout the room, a few objects, seemingly of secondary importance, stood against the outer walls. In terms of presentation, they resembled the objects in the main room, with plaques, pictures, and Plexiglas. Yet, their separation from the majority of the collection indicated some kind of inexplicable difference in their purpose or meaning. This space, felt empty and less significant than the busier first space. This complicates how a visitor might question the value of these objects in relation to those displayed in the main room.

On the farthest wall from the entrance to the second room, a colorful collage presented pictures of dozens of people along with captions that briefly related objects of importance to each person. The collage included a wide diversity of people, incorporating Philadelphians of all ages and races. The short captions evoked emotional responses in readers as they related to one or more people and empathized with their stories. The emotional reaction of visitors to this display suggests the value of the written text in relating the personal stories. Unlike the audio, the collage was visible and accessible to many people at the same time and allowed visitors to work through the material at their own pace.

The third and final space existed in the upper level of the Painted Bride Art Center, directly above the main exhibit room. From this loft, visitors could observe people as they walked around the exhibit. Also on this landing, a large couch sat in front of a television that broadcast the same fishing story as the television in the first, exhibit space. This upper level served primarily as a social area for guests, not as a space for exhibiting objects. However, the addition of another writing desk or collage could have added to the décor and better tied the area to the rest of the exhibit.

Walking through the exhibit successfully evoked feelings of curiosity, nostalgia and sentimentality. The quotations and pictures best facilitated these emotions by connecting the visitor to the object’s owner and his or her personal story. However, the disconnect between the objects and the occasional difficulty in matching the story with the owner led to a disjointed feeling in the museum experience. The visitor leaves with a collection of anecdotes that fail to deliver a cohesive message regarding material culture. The histories behind the objects, while intriguing, are overshadowed by the personal stories.The true success of Objects tell Stories is its ability to encourage visitors to think critically about their own objects and what endows them with meaning. This artistic exhibit will certainly provide a model for other museums seeking to create an emotional connection between the objects and their viewers.

[1] “About First Person Arts,” First Person Arts website, 2010. Accessed 11/16/10, Stable URL: http://museum.firstpersonarts.org/

[2] Bruggeman, Seth, class lecture, Painted Bride Art Center, September 29, 2010.

Yari's Baby Clothes: Captions

2010-10-11T11:38:00.000-07:00

The opening of the new First Person Arts exhibit is quickly approaching! My classmates and I are working on writing individual captions for each object. You can find links to their work here.

I am deciding between a few proposed captions of my own and would greatly appreciate your input. I will post the captions below. Please use the poll on the right to vote for the caption you find most effective to supplement a museum guest's understanding of the history behind Yari's baby clothes.

Caption #1: About Style
Babies born in the early 18th century wore tight swaddling or bodices, designed to restrict movement and straighten the infant’s back. By the mid 19th century, fashionable parents dressed their children in ornate gowns. Frills gave way to practicality with the modern creation of simple, comfortable one-piece garments.

Caption #2: About Movement
The practice of swaddling babies led to the development of bodices in the 18th century. Bodices physically restrained infants and were believed to strengthen their backs. 19th century infants wore elaborate gowns, allowing limited movement under the weight of extensive fabric. Simple 20th century “onesies” permit infants’ unrestricted physical activity.

Caption #3: About Shopping
In 1917, with the increased popularity of ready-made garments, a Chicago department store developed the first department exclusively for children’s products. Items were advertised in women’s magazines and newspapers and the store welcomed children. Isolating goods for children created a new consumer market that targeted both mother and child.

Caption #4: About Mothers
Historically, an infant’s clothing reflects the mother’s values. Mothers used bodices in the 18th century to strengthen their babies’ backs. Victorian era mothers displayed their infants in ornate, long gowns, often with expensive lace. Mothers of the 20th century sought a combination of style and function, such as colorful onesies.

Captions by Lynette Mattson

Yari's Baby Clothes: Exhibit Design

2010-09-28T20:42:00.000-07:00

In her leaflet, "Exhibit Makeovers: Do-it-Yourself Exhibit Planning," Alice Parman encourages readers to remember when they first discovered a curiosity about any given subject. She suggests that exhibit designers use their art to try to evoke those initial feelings of excitement and intrigue for museum guests. Parman characterizes this experience as romance and identifies it as the key factor in a successful exhibit.

In designing an exhibit for the First Person Museum the romance occurs in finding meaning in the mundane. A collection of everyday objects paired with personal stories from their owners give the viewer an intimate connection with the collection. Creating an effective personal narrative for each object combined with historical background will appeal to a viewer on emotional and intellectual level, hopefully inciting a lasting romance with the subject.

In my attempt to design a mock exhibit for the First Person Museum's new collection, I face one key limitation in that I have never visited the space where the exhibit will be displayed. I, therefore, have chosen to design an exhibit in a space that exists only in my imagination. Additionally, while I have had the pleasure of hearing specifics about the actual intended design of the exhibit, I have also given myself free reign to disregard this information in favor of indulging an original (if faulty) idea. To describe my plan, I refer again to Parman's leaflet, where she outlines six steps to designing an effective exhibit.

Step 1: Mission statement, take-home messages, and storyline

The mission statement of First Person Arts is:

"First Person Arts transforms the drama of real life into memoir and documentary art to foster appreciation for our unique and shared experience. We believe that everyone has a story to tell, and that sharing our stories connects us with each other and the world."

The take-home message for this museum is a heightened recognition of the significance of objects in the visitor's own life and their meaning in a greater cultural context. The storyline, or the "so-what" of the exhibit is the ability of objects to reveal stories of community members and their values.

Step 2: Organize your storyline into "galleries of thought"

I aim to organize the exhibit based on categories. The collection contains a variety of different objects, which makes sorting them more of a creative than a logical process. I intend to divide the objects into four categories: 1) Exotic/international (passport, map, wall-hanging); 2) Childhood (baby clothes, stuffed animals, birth certificate, dolls); 3) Decorative (pendant, painting, tie-dye shirt); 4) Utilitarian (adult clothes, pen, pan). The objects listed here are merely a selection of the objects in the collection, but they indicate the organizational structure of the exhibit. In addition to allowing space for these four categories, I intend to also reserve a space for guests to write their own stories, contribute to the First Person website forums or talk among themselves in order to facilitate deeper interaction with the exhibit.

Step 3: Inventory the content and pin down the most important facts

The facts about each object will be presented on typed, laminated cards displayed next to the object. For each object, there will be three cards stacked on top of each other with one edge bound together. The top card will very state the object's name. When the viewer flips the first card, the second will briefly expound on the historical significance of the object. The final card will be the personal story of the object. With this structure, I hope to demonstrate the various layers of meaning within the object in a way that is engaging for the viewer.

Step 4: Find ways to motivate and engage your visitors

The exhibit should be as interactive as possible while respecting the integrity of the valuable objects loaned to the museum. While the objects themselves would be protected from physical interaction with guests, other objects may be placed nearby to allow for simulated interaction. For example, Yari's baby clothes could be displayed next to a cradle that has a doll dressed in similar clothing that visitors could handle. Or a passport could be displayed next to a globe. Furthermore, televisions and stereos will be available for watching and listening to the object's owners discuss their contribution to the museum. By allowing for interaction, the exhibit will be engaging to both adults and children.

The exhibit will also engage visitors by allowing for feedback and contributions. A space in the museum will have computers where visitors can contribute to the forums on the First Person Arts website. Writing desks and supplies will be available for people who wish to record stories by hand. Additionally, chairs, sofas and tables will provide a friendly forum where people are able to discuss the exhibit. Information about First Person Arts in the form of pamphlets and leaflets will also be openly displayed in this space.

Step 5: Plan the "look and feel" of your exhibit

My inspiration for the look and feel of this exhibit came from a poem in Louisa May Alcott's Little Women called "In the Garret." In this poem, the main character examines the objects left by her sisters in her family's attic and, in a way, tells their stories. An attic seems like an opportune space to present ordinary objects that merit saving. I imagine a fairly large, open space that is divided into four separate "galleries" and one community space. The division will be created partially with walls and partially with strategic placement of furniture and rugs to guide the visitor. For instance, when a visitor arrives at the top of the stairs, he or she will face the back of a sofa on one side and a long rug on the other. I imagine, they would instinctively turn away from the wrong-facing furniture and follow the path created by the rug.

The galleries would be designed to create the feeling of an attic, with mismatched items and furniture. Items from the collection would be lit with narrow beams of light from a high ceiling, as if being illuminated with beams of light sifting through the rafters. I want the viewer to feel as though they have the unique privilege of exploring an attic that is not their own and discovering the hidden stories behind each object. In keeping with the attic vibe, the electronics in the exhibit, such as the televisions and computers, would be older models. Ultimately, the exhibit would feel comfortable and colorful without being cluttered.

Step 6: Produce and install your exhibit

Below is a sample floor plan of my exhibit, which I created using www.floorplanner.com. For a larger version, please go here.

Yari's Baby Clothes: Social Context

2010-09-21T11:07:00.000-07:00

Sociologist, Daniel Thomas Cook, notes that throughout the 20th century, various models existed that identified the relationship of children to the consumer market. The trend of these models increasingly recognized children as autonomous beings, capable of making or, at least, influencing purchase decisions within a household.* However, this autonomy does not begin until a child has the language to articulate his or her thoughts. Infancy is a unique period for viewing a child's relationship to objects. Nurture vastly outweighs nature in the perception of an infant's identity. For a brief time in a person's life, he or she is primarily only capable of projecting an image constructed by someone else. Clothing is an important part of that image. There are two main elements of Yari's clothes that can be considered as culturally constructed: the color and iconic image.

The garment is pink and clearly meant to indicate the gender of the baby. Pink is a color wrought with meaning with regard to gender and sexuality. A simple Google search of "pink color" shows that its meaning is a controversial subject among women, particularly when it is related to children. Some women feel disgusted at its representation of restricted gender roles for women and others claim it as a positive expression of femininity. Debates rage about whether pressing gender-defined objects into a child's life can confuse the child about his or her own gender. Yari's selection of a pink garment might have been a simple decision based on the baby's sex or her own aesthetic preference, but the cultural baggage surrounding the color almost makes the decision worthy of its own op-ed piece in the Times.

The clothing sports an image of Winnie-the-Pooh, a popular bear best known for eating large amounts of honey and being unfailingly good-natured. Winnie-the-Pooh was originally created by A.A. Milne in 1926 and was licensed by Disney in 1961. The stories of Winnie-the-Pooh are innocuous and appealing to children and adults alike. They have been adapted to suit history, philosophy and music and Pooh has become the ultimate symbol of childhood innocence and naive wisdom. It has also become one of many icons of the largest entertainment and media corporation of the world. The image of Pooh is also consistent with massive profits, global marketing, and fiercely protected copyrights and trademarks. While an individual might associate Pooh with nostalgic memories and fond life lessons, most fail to recognize that the accessibility and popularity of Pooh is due to a carefully constructed business plan. One needs only to look at the new Winnie-the-Pooh website to see that the bear and his woodland friends have adapted to appeal to a new generation, as have their merchandise-- Pooh now has his own PlayStation 2 game.

The cultural constructions of pink and Pooh beg the question, to what extent did Yari's free choice enter into her decision to select this particular item of clothing for her newborn daughter? With a society that maintains a constant discourse on gender and a multi-billion dollar corporation striving to make Pooh a member of every family, how much of an infant's image is selected by his or her parents and how much is predetermined by cultural constructions?

*Daniel Thomas Cook, "The Other 'Child Study': Figuring Children as Consumers in Market Research 1910s-1990s," The Sociological Quarterly, Vol. 41, No. 3 (Summer, 2000), pp. 487-507.

Yari's Baby Clothes: A Larger Historical Context

2010-09-21T09:37:00.000-07:00

Baby clothes illustrate the evolution of a variety of facets of American society. The garments reflect not only the practical needs of an infant, but also the socioeconomic position of the mother, the influence of corporate marketing, and the cultural values associated with children and their rearing.

Baby clothes changed in three basic steps over the course of the 18th century. Initially, babies were dressed in swaddling, keeping the infant warm and essentially immobile. According to a piece published on the Colonial Williamsburg website by curator, Linda Baumgarten, this practice evolved into the use of bodices, which were supposed to strengthen a child's back. In the latter half of the eighteenth century, looser clothes became popular for young children, allowing for greater physical movement.

With regard to the 19th century, "Victorian fashion enthusiast," Kathy Hammel, looks to popular women's magazines and books to understand the ideology behind children's garments in the 1850s. Hammel describes infants wearing "long gowns" that primarily varied only in style. Hammel also, perhaps unintentionally, touches on the tension between ornamenting and protecting a child. She refers to mothers of this decade trussing up their babies in finery, while ignoring the practical needs of the child. Her sources indicate that a child's clothes symbolized the wealth and social status of the mother.

Sociologist, Daniel Thomas Cook, pinpoints 1917 as the year in which "infant's departments" began to become part of the common trade in the United States. These departments, of course, were designed to attract mothers as consumers on behalf of their children.* The one-piece item of baby clothing, known as the romper, began to appear in advertisements in the early 20th century. This is the first hint of the item that would become a "onesie," such as the one owned by Yari.

While the infant bodysuit is commonly known as a "onesie," the word itself is actually a trademark of the Gerber corporation, which produces its own particular line of this type of clothing item. Its competitors are compelled to use other names for the item. While Yari describes her daughter's clothing as a onesie, it is unlikely it was actually produced by Gerber because the "Winnie-the-Pooh" design is not part of Gerber's line of clothing.

Ultimately, Yari's baby clothes enter the greater historical picture at a time when infant clothing reflects several aspects of modern life: technology producing clothes of higher quality and function, endless consumer options, media-enhanced marketing, and new meanings of motherhood.

*Daniel Thomas Cook, "The Mother as Consumer: Insights from the Children's Wear Industry, 1917-1929," The Sociological Quarterly, Vol. 36, No. 3 (Summer, 1995), pp. 505-522.

Yari's Baby Clothes: Object History

2010-09-15T07:12:00.000-07:00

Yari's baby clothes had a long history before Yari. Textile manufacturers, clothing designers, factory workers, truck drivers and retailers all influenced the life cycle of this ordinary onesie. Its owner changed multiple times and each altered the path of the object without knowing that it would eventually reach a young mother and her newborn baby girl.

While tracing the life cycle of the clothing would provide interesting insight into the multitude of factors that contributed to the production and distribution of the onesie, I prefer to examine the more specific biography of the clothing and its owners. A certain amount of this analysis is speculative, as I do not know the details about Yari's acquisition of the onesie. However, even a limited story unveils questions about the role of ownership in the life of a mother and her baby.

The newborn-sized onesie might have been purchased or gifted. Its receipt, however, indicates preparation for a baby. When Yari took ownership of the clothing, the role of the clothing changed from being a product to a possession. It lost significance as a commodity for the retailer, but gained practical and sentimental value to its new owner.

When Yari's baby was born, she gave the clothing a new owner. Yari's daughter was, perhaps, the only owner of the object who did not choose to own it. At this point, the onesie was subject to a shared ownership by both Yari and her daughter. To the daughter, it had (albeit unknown to her) utilitarian and comfort value. To the mother, it provided utilitarian and emotional value.

Yari's daughter has since grown out of her first clothing and, effectively, has relinquished her share of ownership in it. Yari, however, chooses to keep the clothing as a fond reminder of her daughter's first days. As the object will probably not be used again, it has lost all utilitarian value for Yari and, yet, is increasingly precious as her daughter grows.

When the clothing enters the museum exhibit, along with Yari's story, it will once again become a shared object as a multitude of viewers appreciate its value as a sentimental object.

There is a fantastic synchronicity with the timing of this post as I recently learned that my dear friend, Brooke, is currently at the hospital awaiting the birth of her own daughter. I have no doubt that, several years from now, Brooke will have a onesie of her own tucked away in a closet, signifying this day.

Yari's Baby Clothes: Object Description

2010-09-07T06:47:00.000-07:00

The object I will be examining over the next few weeks is Yari’s baby clothes. This item of clothing belonged to Yari’s daughter, who wore them home from the hospital after her birth.

I have not had the opportunity to view this object yet, but I have a written story about the item which facilitates a basic description of the clothing.

The baby clothing is a pink “onesie,” which is a one-piece item that covers the baby’s torso and clasps between his or her legs. It could be be short or long sleeved. Onesies are intended to be an affordable and practical wardrobe addition for a baby as they have snaps or buttons at the crotch to make the process of changing diapers easier. Additionally, onesies are lightweight, easily washable and convenient, as the outfit has no additional components. Yari's onesie is sized “newborn,” which is the smallest size of clothing available for babies (with the exception of preemie sizes) and is intended for babies who weigh between five to eight pounds.

In addition to its practicality, a onesie is also designed to provide a comfortable, warm wrapping. A variety of soft fabrics are used to produce this type of clothing and it serves as a light outfit in the summer and a cozy undergarment for blustery days. Yari’s baby clothes depict the familiar character of Winnie-the-Pooh as an indication of its suitability for an infant. Finally, the gentle pink color is appropriate for a delicate baby, as well as conveniently indicative of the baby’s sex.

The fabric, brand name and cost of this item are unknown at this time. Unfortunately, until I interact with the object, I am as stuck as Pooh himself in my effort to provide further physical description. Next week, I am scheduled to visit Yari’s baby clothes at the First Person Museum and I will report back with more details and, perhaps, a picture. In subsequent entries, I will begin to examine the personal story behind the clothes and their social and cultural context.

New Semester = New Project

2010-09-07T06:33:00.000-07:00

This blog is being resurrected and re-purposed.

As I begin the second year of my graduate studies, my newest challenge is an exhibit project in my Material Culture class. The First Person Museum kindly gave our class the opportunity to work with them as they create a new exhibit of objects that are meaningful to a variety of individuals in the Philadelphia area. Each student received an object with which he or she will interact to better understand its meaning.

From this moment on, this blog will be a series of discussions about the object and my evolving understanding of it. As this is an exhibit dedicated to first person experience, I welcome your comments and thoughts regarding the project.

Finals

2009-12-14T00:02:00.000-08:00

I have reached the beginning of the end of the beginning. In fewer than 48 hours, I will have completed my first set of finals for my first semester of graduate school.

And then I will cross my fingers and hope for the best. Despite all of the work I've put into this semester, I still firmly believe that any success or failure can be partially attributed to good, old-fashioned luck.

I promise thoughts, reflections and interesting research updates when I am appropriately distanced from my current work.

Thanks for reading with me this semester!

Web Review

2009-11-23T08:52:00.000-08:00

The Official Anne Frank House Website
www.annefrank.org
Designed and constructed by The Anne Frank Stichting
Reviewed Nov. 23, 2009

To young scholars across the world, Anne Frank is the face and the voice of the Holocaust. The personal confidences in her diary touch people in all corners of the globe and give the history of antisemitism a personal relevance for millions of people. The Anne Frank House recognizes her valuable contribution not only to history but to social consciousness. Because of the compelling nature of her story, the Anne Frank House designed a website that provides a moving experience, secondary only to visiting the museum itself.

The content of the website is primarily instructional. These features are primarily directed to the curious and casual visitor. In addition to discovering the basic facts about the museum, a visitor also has access to brief biographies of Anne Frank, her family, their benefactors, and the others in hiding. These biographies are enhanced with images that portray the people mentioned in Anne’s diary, their secret attic, and their surrounding community in Amsterdam. The creators of the website have recently developed the Anne Frank channel on YouTube, which provides access to interviews with witnesses of the events surrounding Anne’s life, including Otto Frank. The channel also features the only known video footage of Anne herself, in which she gazes out of a balcony, only a few weeks before going into hiding. Through the biographies, images, and videos, the website creates a unique personal connection between the visitor and Anne Frank.

The website’s most useful features cater directly to teachers and their students. The “Anne Frank Guide” is a useful tool for middle and high school teachers to use The Diary of Anne Frank as a means to teach students about the Holocaust. This page provides condensed historical information about Anne Frank and World War II in conjunction with suggested activities and lesson plans. Furthermore, the site provides unique guides for eighteen different countries, each in their own language and containing specific facts about how that particular nation was impacted by the war. The guide also takes the events of Anne’s diary out of their context and demonstrates how they can be related to present-day acts of genocide and, with equal importance, acts of humanity.

Students benefit from the interactive aspects of the website. A section on homework help allows accessible information about Anne Frank and World War II and provides a quiz. A graphic novel on the Holocaust dilutes the horrific event to an acceptable context for very young visitors. But, more importantly, the website encourages young people to relate Anne’s experience to their own life. The site has a forum for responses and discussion of the diary and its history. Additionally, the Anne Frank Tree allows guests to “leave a leaf” on Anne’s interactive monument. On a virtual leaf, a visitor chooses a theme that characterizes Anne’s legacy, such as humanity or courage, and then leaves his or her name along with a brief message or picture. These are then added to the tree, which visitors are free to peruse for inspiration.

The Official Anne Frank House website provides an educational and meaningful look into the life of an extraordinary young woman and the history that shaped her. Through its ease of use and caliber of content, it achieves a quality of experience that is rare on the internet. This website is a valuable resource for all audiences.

Digital Discord

2009-11-23T06:35:00.000-08:00

I think it is ironic that all of our readings about the benefits and harms of digital history are accessible online. I wonder if the authors feel that the negative effects of digitalization won't apply to them? Or if they are compelled to embrace it because the technological forces are simply too strong to resist? It's likely just a simple matter of the good outweighing the bad.

Virginia Heffernan provides an interesting, general overview of these pro/con points in her NYT article, "Haunted Mouses." She laments that expanding accessibility to the internet is also promoting expanding accessibility to misleading information, gruesome images, and an entirely unhealthy thirst for information (regardless of its credibility). I think Heffernan is missing a crucial point-- there is a market for misinformation that has existed long before the internet. While the age of constant connectivity provides a new and tempting outlet for sensational media, we can still find tabloids at every supermarket checkout and elderly relatives relating memories that have been colored by time.

I have more appreciation for Nate Hill's criticism in "Hyperlinking Reality," in which he comments that the internet is not being used to its full potential to bring communities together. His bar code experiment attempts to counteract the isolating effect of technology by allowing members of communities to interact in a particular space, despite the differences in time, effectively creating a new kind of virtual community.

Speaking more directly at historians, Dan Cohen and Roy Rozenweig attempt to address the many questions about academic communication via the web in their online book, Digital History: A Guide to Gathering, Preserving and Presenting the Past on the Web. Cohen and RozenWeig are strong proponents of using the internet as a tool for historians and seek to advise the historical community on overcoming some of its inherent difficulties which they identify as: "quality, durability, readability, passivity, and inaccessibility." Despite these obstacles, the authors hail the internet as a new means for opening previously closed sources to a wider population and igniting a curiosity about history in the public. While I believe their book serves as an effective guide for setting up a historical website, promoting it, and perfecting it, I fail to see how they address the initial dilemmas they put forth in the introduction. For instance, they do not give any potential solutions to how the historical community can deem a site for the public credible, nor do they pragmatically address the class divide that makes the internet more available to one social class than another.

In "Wiki in the History Classroom," Kevin B. Sheets addresses one of the scariest popular sensations facing history teachers: Wikipedia. Instead of cautioning his students against Wikipedia, he used the popular "Wiki" website to allow his students to create their own page about a particular topic. Through their contributions, deletions, and edits, students learned Sheets' intended lesson: history is a conversation. And, though Sheets never mentions this, I believe that this type of lesson could also teach students to be critical of sources they find on the internet.

As I said in my very first blog post, I love the internet. I love that this week's readings cost me absolutely nothing on Amazon or the Temple Bookstore. Accessibility of information on the internet is one of the best advances to emerge from the 20th century and, hopefully, as we move forward, we will develop a societal intelligence about how and when to best use this information, both academically and personally.

Has the moon lost her memory?

2009-11-15T23:23:00.000-08:00

Alison Landsberg's Prosthetic Memory: The Transformation of American Remembrance in the Age of Mass Culture is an interesting look at how new technology can simulate memory of history for the modern consumer. Having just watched Milk, I am totally into this idea.

Milk provides an open window to an otherwise less accessible historical moment. The narrative, combined with the sensory experience of the film's music and camerawork, allows the viewer to feel a certain set of emotions and develop ideas in sympathy with the movie's main characters. It is overwhelming to think of the combined effort hundreds of people to produce this particular experience. But to what extent is this "synthetic memory" history?

Landsberg would love Milk because it taps into modern resources to create "universal property," making the experience of Harvey Milk and the struggle of the 1970s gay rights movement a collectively experienced historical event. She states, "These mass cultural commodities...have the capacity to affect a person's subjectivity" (146). Landsberg looks at this effect through rose-colored glasses, assuming that the producers strive to create sympathy for progressive politics. While this assumption is absolutely true in the case of Milk, I think it is also important to note that the prosthetic memories she hails could have equally isolating effects for an identity group, depending on the cultural context in which they are viewed.

In "The Generation of Memory: Reflections on 'The Memory Boom' in Contemporary Historical Studies," Jay Winter partially credits the rise of the study of memory to the rise of identity politics. He claims, "The memory boom of the late twentieth century is a reflection of this matrix of suffering, political activity, claims for entitlement, scientific research, philosophical reflection, and art."

Winter's slightly more cynical view of memory is an essential component to a thorough examination of its value in the historical community and the greater public. His recognition of the origins and nature of memory and its uses compliment Landsberg's argument in that it recognizes that memory, like all forms of history, works from an angle. No matter how effectively a filmmaker, author, song writer, museum curator, or other medium works to present a historical moment in its entirety, there will always be sympathies, prejudices, and limitations that inhibit the viewer from fully understanding the personal experience of that moment.

That being said, I agree with Landsberg that the use of technology and mass culture can provide an incomparable tool for forming a more accepting and socially progressive society, particularly at the point where more and more young people are using these mediums to acquire and develop their world view. This might be, as Landsberg recognizes, a Utopian hope, but to quote Milk:

"If a bullet should enter my brain, let that bullet destroy every closet door... And that's all. I ask for the movement to continue. Because it's not about personal gain, not about ego, not about power... it's about the "us's" out there. Not only gays, but the Blacks, the Asians, the disabled, the seniors, the us's. Without hope, the us's give up - I know you cannot live on hope alone, but without it, life is not worth living."

How We Gonna Pay?

2009-11-08T19:38:00.000-08:00

Eric O'Keefe's New York Times article, "Auctioning the Old West to Help a City in the East" reports a unique effort to raise money for Harrisburg, PA. The city's mayor worked to develop an impressive collection of Old West artifacts to open a new museum. However, due to budgetary dilemmas, he helped create an auction to sell the artifacts and fundraise for Harrisburg. It seems ironic to me that while museums have extraordinary difficulties finding financial resources, the value of their exhibits can assist a state capitol.

In "The End of History Museums, Part B," Cary Carson addresses some of the financial difficulties of museums and how various sites have addressed these problems. Carson notes that attendance at history museums has dropped drastically in recent years, depriving these museums of a primary source of income. In order to combat this, many museums have taken a proactive stance by expanding educational programs, creating visitor centers, and renting their facilities for private affairs.

Carson is extremely critical of the latter effort. He believes that the focus of history museums should be the history, not a staged event. I disagree with this perspective for two main reasons: First, the continued operation of a museum must be the primary concern of its administration and, if an event can help the museum without hurting its mission, the benefits outweigh the costs. Second, even if the historical aspect of a museum is relegated to a "sideshow" for a non-historical event, the ultimate message of bringing history to the public is still accomplished. Even in a museum's purest state, it is unrealistic to attempt to control all of the circumstances involved in a guest's experience. Ultimately, the efforts for a museum to be an event site as well as a historical site provides at least a short-term resolution to pressing financial concerns.

Even as we look at how museums need assistance from their communities, it is equally important to historically examine the communities in which they exist. Nancy Raquel Mirabal writes in "Geographies of Displacement: Latina/o's, Oral History, and The Gentrification of San Fransisco's Mission District" that economic progress in San Fransisco has rubbed out the historic and cultural roots of certain parts of the city. She hails the attempts of historians to recapture the story of the mission district by interviewing its former inhabitants and tracing the changes that have occurred in the space that they once called home. This is an extraordinary endeavor that deserves acknowledgment and imitation in similarly evolving urban areas. It demonstrates that financial success can be as damaging as financial distress.

From fundraisers and developments to ticket prices and paying the rent, it looks like even the most idealistic of public historians will never be free of the money woes.

Interpret with Love (and song?)

2009-11-02T07:52:00.000-08:00

Freeman Tilden's Interpreting Our Heritage is a fantastically cogent exploration into the principles and effective methods of interpreting a historic site. In several short chapters, he defines his six key principles and how they have been applied to various historical interpretations around the United States.

Tilden attempts to boil the practice of interpretation down to the essentials so that this book might serve as an instructional guide to interpreters. He relates interpretation to a teachable art, while careful to outline that, "the interpreter should [not] be any sort of practicing artist--that he should read poems, give a dramatic performance, deliver an oration, become a tragic or comic thespian, or anything as horribly out of place as these. Nothing could be worse" (55).

The above quote made me laugh, first because I recently viewed the one-woman show at the National Constitution Center, which was certainly a little tough to swallow, and second, because a certain amount of my love for history derives from musicals such as Sondheim's "Assassins" or McNally's "Ragtime". I wonder if Tilden would argue that interpretation that happens on a stage rather than a historical site would be considered art instead of history? Would "Assassins" be any different if it were performed at Ford's Theatre?

Handler & Gable, in their explanation of the difficulties of interpreting Colonial Williamsburg, clash with Tilden. Tilden gives the audience equal authority over their reception of information at historical sites, whereas Handler & Gable consider interpreters responsible for controlling the information presented as well as the means by which it is presented. They argue that history can never be presented perfectly, as sites and perspectives and knowledge are constantly changing. However, I tend to agree more with Tilden in that a well-crafted exhibit could speak to audiences not just in the present, but over a wide span of time.

Patricia West, in her discussion of Louisa May Alcott's "Orchard House" presented a wonderful way in which a historical site can be interpreted with (as Tilden encourages) love. The transformation of Orchard House into a public historical site gave the opportunity for "little women" everywhere to visit "Jo's" house and simultaneously learn about the historical context in which Alcott lived. However, West also critiques the site for refusing to acknowledge some of the more controversial aspects of Alcott's life, such as her participation in the suffragette movement. I wonder if, because this site is popular because of a work of art, Tilden would be critical of its use as a means of historical interpretation?

Little Women is also a pretty awesome musical. Just sayin'.

Welcome to the preservation station!

2009-10-25T22:02:00.000-07:00

When I was about 9 years old, one of my favorite books was Lyddie by renowned childrens' author, Katherine Paterson. The story is about a young girl who flees to the Lowell mills to earn enough money to save her family's farm. Her path to success combines elements of the American dream with the cruelty of unchecked capitalism in a compelling and simple work of historical fiction. I am mildly embarrassed to admit that this novel provided my only background regarding Lowell for many years, mainly because I never had occasion to delve further into the subject.

Fortunately, this week's assigned public history reading was The Lowell Experiment: Public History in a Postindustrial City by Cathy Stanton. Needless to say, it has replaced Lyddie as my point of reference for Lowell. Stanton's analysis of public history as conducted at Lowell National Historical Park provides a multifaceted account of the background of the site, the people who preserve it, and the surrounding community. She places special emphasis on the presentation of socioeconomic issues which were the root of the shameful practices at Lowell and the reality for many people living in the surrounding community.

My favorite chapter of the book, entitled "Rituals of Reconnection" contains Stanton's research into the backgrounds and motives of the public historians at the Tsongas Center, a partner of Lowell Park. She discovers that, while these historians are largely white, educated, and middle-class, their achievement of that status is recent. Many reported a background of a lower socioeconomic status and credited their education for their class mobility. Stanton states, "For these people in 'the generation that broke the cycle,' Lowell NHP is more than just a place where they can learn more about the Industrial Revolution. It is, rather, a ritual space where they can locate themselves within changing socioeconomic realities and allay some of the anxieties involved in those changes" (168).

A similar perspective exists from the crowds of visitors who tour the park. While Lowell supposedly shows the guests "how it used to be," Stanton discovered that a large number of visitors readily connected the experiences of Lowell workers to their own lives. Union members relate to the labor movements, factory workers sympathize with the long hours, and everyone relates to the daily struggles and fears of the working class.

However, Stanton also notes that the efforts to preserve the Lowell mills as a historic site also create a dilemma by ignoring the fact that the surrounding community still endures many of the same hardships as turn-of-the-century laborers. Stanton's main critique is the rift that exists between the present day community and public historians at Lowell. She commends the efforts of public historians to bridge this gap by developing a new "Run of the Mill" exhibit which addresses modern issues surrounding Lowell and poses the tough questions about exactly how far the industry has come from its boom during the Industrial Revolution. Yet, Stanton sees this exhibit as a first step in a process that requires many more "social projects and alignments" in order to create an appropriate and productive relationship between historical sites and their public (237).

In the introduction to A Richer Heritage: Historic Preservation in the Twenty-first Century, Diane Lea also addresses this difficulty. She describes public history sites as embodying, "some of the nation's most profoundly defining ideals." Lea provides a brief history of the movement to preserve historical sites in the United States and how these movements have faced opposition in interactions with communities. Her essay emphasizes the theme and constant struggle of public vs. private ownership of history and how public historians have striven to balance this authority.

Everything seems to have gotten awfully complicated since the first time I curled up with my copy of Lyddie and learned about a place called Lowell. But the conversations of Lea and Stanton are valuable in their complexity. If there's one thing I've learned about public history this semester, it's that history and its meaning are fluid. Lowell is no longer a site with a set of facts and a simple, motion-picture-length story. It is a key component to a culture, a relationship, and an image. And those who have the responsibility of weaving these concepts together for public consumption are in for a good many finger pricks and long days bent over the loom.

And, no, I could not resist that corny textile metaphor. It was just too easy.

The Tough Stuff

2009-10-19T07:31:00.000-07:00

It seems as though there are two types of people: those who are shocked by nothing and those who are shocked by everything. Americans, as a society, are enjoying a time when controversies of all kinds are deconstructed, repackaged, and presented in the most appealing and appalling way possible. The public is left to either embrace or reject the information, per their preconceived notions of correctness.

The subject of slavery is no exception. From recent debates on reparations to Tracy Morgan's portrayal of Thomas Jefferson, slavery has been packaged as a harrowing but defining part of American history and present day race relations. However, as slavery becomes increasingly easier to address through a modern lens, historians face a dilemma regarding their responsibilities and abilities to present slavery, simply, as it was.

James Oliver Horton and Lois E. Horton collected a set of essays on this significant problem in public history. Their book, Slavery and Public History: The Tough Stuff of American Memory provides a comprehensive overview of how historians and educators regularly grapple with the issue of slavery. They begin with essays that examine the broad question of how slavery has fundamentally affected modern American society. A series of essayists then examine specific instances in which slavery has been handled at sites of public history.

The authors of the essays present a number of problems, including the comfort of public history consumers (similar to the previously blogged-about Amy Tyson article), the appropriateness of museum policies, and the constant pursuit of truth. Each essay advocates the use of education to dispel the stigma surrounding discussions of slavery and encourage open and honest discourse. However, none of the contributors offer practical solutions to the specific cases that they study.

Roger Launius isolates the main dilemma of uncomfortable public history exhibits in his essay, "American Memory, Culture Wars, and the Challenge of Presenting Science and Technology in a National Museum," (published in The Public History of Science in Winter, 2007). He asks, "How might we, seeking to be useful to the society we serve, respond to this situation? How might we best survive whatever scorn arises in this process without compromising our commitment to serving society?" (30).

This question is where I hop on the mental treadmill and run over the same span of thought repeatedly. How do historians present the uncensored and uncomfortable truth without challenging the public to the point where they resent public history? Is it the responsibility of historians to be comfort counselors as well as educators?

Since we were just talking about museums...

2009-10-05T09:22:00.000-07:00

Standing behind Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell, the National Constitution Center in bills itself as the third stop on the walking tour of Philadelphia’s role in the formation of the United States of America. This ideal location allows the surrounding, well-known historic landmarks to evoke sensations of patriotism and pride in visitors and, when guests arrive at the National Constitution Center, the museum provides opportunities to act on these sensations. The National Constitution Center picks up where the Liberty Bell leaves off and educates visitors about how distinct post-Revolutionary American values shaped the Constitution and how the Constitution shapes Americans’ daily lives.

The National Constitution Center provides a truly sensuous experience to visitors. The architecture, designed by Pei Cobb Freed & Partners, reflects the museum’s theme of continuity. The large circular room which hosts the museum’s permanent exhibit, “The American Experience” takes guests on a journey through the history of the Constitution through a series of interactive and engaging displays. The walls curve almost imperceptibly around the guests as the follow the exhibit from the signers of the Constitution to the election of Barack Obama and suddenly find themselves back at the beginning, demonstrating the incomparable, lasting significance of the Constitution.

The entrance to the exhibit is called the “Signer’s Hall,” a plain but stately space, filled with life-sized bronze statues of the signers of the Constitution, as though they were frozen in time. In the center of the room is a large copy of the constitution with an invitation for visitors to sign their own name. This reenactment of a historically significant moment effectively launches the visitor experience to the larger exhibit of the Constitution.

The exhibit itself is accessible to a wide audience. The informative and slightly controversial nature of the displays appeal to a range of adults (particularly American adults) and the fun, interactive displays successfully entertain children while providing subtle education. The exhibit moves chronologically, focusing on times in American history when the Constitution played a significant role in changing and developing law and society. The displays on the museum’s outer walls are colorful, filled with bold images and artifacts, intermingled with language from the Constitution. These are accompanied by text which provides relevant background information about the subject. Several portions of the exhibit also have a video display that can be listened to through headsets. Some videos contain historical television footage of key events, such as the assassination of John F. Kennedy. Others show commentary by modern political leaders or mock debates about past controversies.

The inner area of the museum boasts several more interactive stations that focus mainly on allowing the audience to become active participants in the history of the Constitution. A simulated voting booth allows guests to vote for their favorite presidents (unfortunately, they are compelled to choose from a short list). A display about the Supreme Court features the opportunity to try on a judicial robe and sit behind a judge’s bench. Perhaps most engagingly, throughout the museum, there are walls with large questions such as, “Should same-sex marriage be legal?” Next to these walls are stacks of Post-It notes and pencils, inviting participants to jot down their opinions, post them on the wall and, in a small way, become part of a topical national conversation.

The final segment of the museum’s permanent exhibit is a 4-D performance called “Freedom Rising.” The theater is in the center of the museum. As audiences wait to be seated, they are invited to circle the theater and view small artifacts from 18th century America, including children’s toys, clothing, and household goods. A mural depicting a Philadelphia street surrounds them and hidden speakers play snippets of staged conversations and sounds from the street scene on the painting. Inside the theater, audience seats are on a raised platform on the outer edges of a cylindrical room. A screen extends around the top half of the room. As the lights dim, a single performer enters the room and delivers a dramatic monologue about the Constitution, its creation, and its enormous impact on the evolution of the United States. Her performance is accompanied by a stunning visual production projected on the screen surrounding the room, as well as on a cylindrical screen that drops from the ceiling minutes into the show. Sound clips, some staged and some historical, complete the experience. The content of the show is a heavy dose of American pie but, based on observed reactions, this unique portion of the exhibit communicated successfully with its audience.

It is unsurprising that the National Constitution Center takes on an overwhelmingly patriotic tone and glosses over any serious Constitutional criticisms. The museum was founded as part of the Constitution Heritage Act of 1988 and two former presidents sit on the Board of Trustees. The building of the museum was initially state funded and was also given a substantial endowment. (Admission costs, a store museum, parking fees, facility rentals, and a cafe contribute to the operating costs of the Center.) However, despite the obvious financial ties to the state, the National Constitution Center maintains that it is an independent and non-partisan organization with a purely educational mission.

The National Constitution Center strives to provide a number of venues for education, from school tours to teacher resources. This mission is furthered by the museum’s continual efforts to offer free lectures and events for the public. Each month, they invite new speakers to deliver addresses on a variety of topics. These open lectures draw huge crowds and the museum hopes that their presence will lead to an increased awareness of the Constitution. Additionally, the National Constitution Center hosts a variety of traveling exhibits, most recently a tribute to Princess Diana, entitled, “Diana: a celebration.” New, rotating exhibits allow for constantly renewed interest in the museum and encourage repeat visitors. Furthermore, the National Constitution Center’s website (www.constitutioncenter.org) boasts extensive information about the Constitution for adults and several games and interactive pages for children. The Center’s dedication to education is shown through the variety of means in which its collection is accessible to the public.

The National Constitution Center exceeds expectations in terms of fulfilling its purpose of bringing awareness to the Constitution and constitutional issues in the United States. Its sensational multimedia approach, combined with elements of living history and traditional displays, successfully engages the public with some of the most notable constitutional debates over the last two-hundred years. The interactive nature of the exhibit, particularly the museum’s continual requests for guest involvement, provides visitors with a uniquely personal connection to the Constitution and a memorable experience. The National Constitution Center takes the traditional Philadelphia walking tour out of its purely historical context and creates an exciting, relevant experience for any audience.

Museums: Who, What, How, and Why?

2009-10-04T23:58:00.000-07:00

We're on a museum kick this week in my public history course. Actually, the major course project is about a museum, but that's sort of a hush-hush, no-blogging-about-it, kind of project, so consider this a mysterious, veiled reference. The image of Scarlett O'Hara peeking coyly over her fan comes to mind.

Which brings me to slavery.

In her article, "Crafting Emotional Comfort," published in Museum and Society, Amy Tyson writes about two separate museums and how they address the history of slavery. Conner Prairie, in Fishers, Indiana, hosts an after-hours role-playing session entitled, "Follow the North Star." As part of this museum experience, guests are led on a 90 minute simulation of the Underground Railroad in 1836. The primarily white visitors morph into runaway slaves and endure dehumanizing treatment from the museum staff. For the psychologically delicate among the participants, everyone is given a safety sash that can be waved, should anyone need to escape the escape.

Tyson also examines Fort Snelling in St. Paul, Minnesota, where the topic of slavery is, at best, removed from sight. She notes that no re-enactors portray the black slaves who worked for Colonel and Mrs. Snelling. Moreover, when the subject of domestic labor is mentioned during tours, the guides refer to bonded women as "servants," taking no notice of their race or lack of freedom.

These two polar approaches to addressing slavery show a common thread in the museums' methods of customer service: comfort. Tyson underscores the fact that both museums take extraordinary precautions to ensure that their visitors feel emotionally at ease throughout their museum experiences. At the conclusion of the article, Tyson determines that the necessity of customer care in living history museums suggests a unique dilemma and suggests that historians of all kinds, "consider the extent to which the expectation of and preoccupation with emotional comfort has entered our own terrains" (258).

Stephen Weil addresses this question and many others in his book, Making Museums Matter. He provides a comprehensive study of the history, purposes, methods, and success of museums. His analyses enlightens the reader to the infinite decisions involved in creating and maintaining a museum that benefits its community. Like Tyson, Weil looks at museums with a critical eye and aims to provide a series of objective criterion which evaluate the quality of any given museum. He suggests that, one day, museums as a whole might have to defend their worth and he wants to be prepared.

The American Association of Museums 2008 Annual Report falls in line with Weil's concern. The report indicates new plans to bring agenda of museums to Capitol Hill and ensure the success of legislative efforts that benefit museums. Additionally, the AMA aims to raise itself to well-recognized "expert" status, to improve visibility. Perhaps these endeavors will succeed in accomplishing what Weil suggests: proving that museums have both aesthetic and commodified worth.

All of this weeks' readings cast into sharp light the difficulties facing museums and those who operate them. However, the attitude toward these problems is unabashedly hopeful. The authors recognize that museums must change to meet the evolving needs of their communities and, through their careful studies, present reasonable means to enact and evaluate these changes.

Counterculture Cures

2009-10-02T12:33:00.000-07:00

Cold and flu season is rough. But along with the feverish, achy, misery comes the excuse to indulge in hot beverages, old movies, and layers of soft blankets. And, for certain graduate students, it's a chance to briefly put aside less desirable projects and eke out some productive work in what I like to think of as "comfort history."

Comfort history is the fun stuff. Instead of making us think, "Oh my, how significant this is in the historiography of the subject," it makes us grin and say "Cool!" Of course, comfort history is different for everyone but for me it's 1960s American counterculture.

This is actually very convenient, since I have recently embarked on a project for my cultural history research seminar about The Living Theatre, an experimental theater group founded in 1947 which, in the '60s, converged with the counterculture and produced fascinating and provocative art.

-What do you want?
-To stop wasting the planet.
-To stop dying of competition.
-To do useful work.
-To get to know God in his madness.
-To make the destination clear.

- The Living Theatre, "Paradise Now"

Due to certain conflicts with the IRS and local law enforcement agencies, the Living Theatre company decided to tour in Europe from 1964 until 1968. After missing four pivotal years in U.S. cultural history, they returned to a very different environment than the one they'd left. I hope to analyze how their 1968-1969 tour reflected the new "norms" of American society and how their art evolved to reflect these shifts.

For the moment, however, I'm savoring my favorite part of any writing assignment: the research. It's like directing a film, as I start to put together all of the pieces of the scenery, cast the extras, understand the plot, and glean motives. I especially enjoy celebrity cameos-- I got quite a thrill when I read a bit of a diary that revealed an affair between one of the Living Theatre founders and Abbie Hoffman!

And now I think it's time for another cup of tea, a new box of tissues, and another juicy counterculture memoir. Their road to revolution is my road to recovery!

The Significance of Mad Men (and Reading Commentary #2)

2009-09-20T21:26:00.000-07:00

Some people would call me a television junkie. I prefer to think of myself as a connoisseur of fine viewing. That being said, tonight was a big night for junkies and connoisseurs alike as we all celebrated another fine year of programming with the 61st Annual Primetime Emmys.

While I would love to diverge into a discussion about the best and worst dressed (Mariska Hargitay and Sarah Silverman, respectively) and my misgivings about certain winners (Breaking Bad winning over House? Seriously?), my thoughts are turning more toward a certain "Outstanding Drama" winner: Mad Men.

Mad Men, a program about the personal and professional lives of ad agents in the early 1960s, has captured the interest of America in a unique way. This colorful depiction has led to New York Times articles analyzing character's drinks, fashion designers creating '60s throwback clothing named after the characters, and a number of nostalgic written works by people who remember the Madison Avenue scene in the '60s.

In light of this week's Public History readings, I have been thinking about the public's particular fascination with a program so steeped in history. Rosenzweig and Thelen argue in The Presence of the Past that the public has an extremely intimate connection with history. In an extensive survey conducted, most respondents stated that they believed that history presented alternatives to the present. In their own narratives, participants reflected mainly on change that has occurred and how changes impacted the present. It seems reasonable, then, to assume that the interest in a historical (albeit fictional and dramatized) program derives from an interest in the vast cultural differences between "then" and "now."

Interestingly, Rosenzweig and Thelen also discovered that most of the surveyed people ranked television as one of the least reliable means of obtaining historical information. The commercialization of the programs has embedded a (not entirely unjustified) cynicism in the public that overrides some of the potential to glean facts from fiction. However, when surveyed about the frequency of interaction with history, watching a historical movie or television program was second only to looking at and taking photographs.

Further research conducted by Kim Hyounggon and Jamal Tazim illustrates a deeper connection between people and their history. They followed the experiences of frequent attendees at Renaissance Fairs and their quest for existential authenticity. They form an entirely new self-identity in an accepting environment as a means of interacting with history. In a way, they are doing to a much more complicated extent, what historical television does for millions: enabling them to connect to (and perhaps escape to) a time and a place with which they have a personal or emotional connection.

In fact, I think Mad Men's leading man, Don Draper, explains it best:

"There is the rare occasion when the public can be engaged in a level beyond flash- if they have a sentimental bond with the product...It takes us to a place where we ache to go again."

(I'm sorry I can't embed the video. Apparently that would violate copyright laws. But definitely click on the link. It's well worth it.)

It is this cultural bond along with a desire to communicate history that led Michael Frisch to propose the idea of a Philadelphia "Historymobile" which would collect personal memories and turn them into historical Philadelphia exhibits that would travel the city, allowing its members to contribute and experience history in a festival-like atmosphere. The idea never came to fruition, due to lack of funding, but the idea is based on the theory proven by Rosenzweig and Thelen, that people want to be connected to their history.

Drumming up an avid following of Mad Men probably isn't the best way to bridge the gap between scholars and the public with regard to history. Let's face it-- the sex appeal probably shares equal responsibility with the history for the show's popularity. But the variety of reactions to the program shed light on the fact that the public is interested in the past, especially when the past holds a personal connection to their present. And I think it is a valuable use of time to discern where public history and popular history can converge to best communicate with their audiences.

Maybe make Don Draper the new face of the AHA? Seriously, that man can sell anything.

[Image courtesy of Subthemag.com. Stable URL: http://subthemag.com/tss/wp-content/uploads/2008/07/men_wideweb__470x2880.jpg]

Reading Commentary #1

2009-09-13T20:12:00.001-07:00

[Warning: This post might be more informative than entertaining. I promise to do better next time.]

This week’s reading assignments for my "Managing History" course are:

> Historians in Public: the practice of American history, 1890-1970 by Ian Tyrrell

> An excerpt from The Lowell Experiment by Cathy Stanton

> An American Historical Association Presidential Address by Carl Becker entitled, “Everyman His Own Historian”

All three sources presented a slightly different perspective on the role of how scholarly history functions in the public. Tyrrell’s account demonstrates the ways in which historians have attempted to bring their work to the public over several decades. He refers to the process of “doing history” (a phrase new to me until this class) as the conscious attempt of historians to present history in an accessible fashion. To this end, historians have worked to present their craft through a myriad of mediums including radio, film, text, and schools. Unfortunately, as Tyrrell notes, these attempts have yielded few results. These roadblocks have not, however, prevented historians from progressively broadening the field of history to include previously ignored peoples or events. While historians have a difficult time finding a market for their scholarly work, over time, their efforts quietly end up embedded in popular culture, politics, and daily life.

Cathy Stanton's approach toward history is accessible to the public because it derives through the public. Her approach of analyzing the information provided in the tours of Lowell National History park and offering her own research in conjunction to the park's provides a unique interpretation of the city. Stanton attempts to, "underscore the performative, contingent nature of all historical interpretation" (xiv). Like Tyrrell, she sees the role of the historian in as an inherently public position with a responsibility to a particular audience.

Carl Becker takes this approach one step further, outlining the importance of "Mr. Everyman" and his experience in living history. He weaves a story of a man whose experience of life is, essentially, different from the history of his life. In this way, Becker draws the conclusion that there are two types of history: the actual and the reported. He tries to find a point where the two converge and, though it appears futile, he urges historians to not disregard the importance of actual history. He views this as the obligation of historians to be as accurate to the experiences of the past as possible given what he feels are extremely limited resources.

And because you, dear reader, have made it to the end of this somewhat dull post, I would like to leave you with a hint of an amusing image direct from my own living history:

Faculty vs. Student softball match.

Women Can't Fight: Redux

2009-09-07T10:36:00.000-07:00

For my research seminar, I read the partial transcripts of a 1979 House subcommittee meeting about women in the military. The purpose of this meeting was to collect enough information to make an informed decision about whether Congress should repeal the federal regulations prohibiting women in the Air Force or the Navy from serving in combat zones. This would leave the role of women in these branches to the discretion of their respective secretaries.

It's odd to think that as recently as 1979 (only a few years before my birth and well within my parents' lifetime), the language used to speak of women in the military was overwhelmingly protectionist and, at times, downright condescending. The most clear instances of this attitude were provided by Congressman G.V. "Sonny" Montgomery, a Democrat from Mississippi. One of his first contentions was the likelihood of men to neglect their duty because they would be "overly protective" of women. Later in the hearings, he pokes fun at a M. Kathleen Carpenter, the Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense for Equal Employment Opportunity. While Ms. Carpenter testified about the problem of harassment in the military, the congressman interjected, "I was just going to tease the gentlelady. I was going to ask who was harassing who in the military? It has been my experience with women, I usually get harassed" (24).

Jim Webb, a journalist and former Marine, authored a controversial article in the Washingtonian entitled, "Women Can't Fight." He asserts that the entrance of women into military academies had weakened the morale of the army and that introducing women into combat zones would all but destroy the ability of the American military to win a war. His most memorable statement is:

"The Hall, which houses 4,000 males and 300 females, is a horny woman's dream... While this is a natural human phenomenon, it gets in the way of military indoctrination, and creates a very real resentment among males due to the evolution of a double standard of discipline."

This article was referenced heavily in the subcommittee hearings on women in the military. Retired Colonel Phelps Jones calls the article "memorable" and "honest," stating that, "[Webb's] judgment of the deterioration of the plebe system and the whole sense of élan and internal morale at Annapolis is painful" (272-274). Colonel Jones continues to advise the committee to make the following statement to women entering into the Academy:

"Look, for most of you, you cannot aspire to be a general of the Army, or an admiral of the fleet, or something like this; there is a point beyond which, in total candor, we must tell you most of you can't go." (274).

The extent of the influence of Webb's article has been publicly debated since he published it. Webb (now an incumbent senator from Virginia) has been, time and time again, called to task for his condescending view of women and his controversial article may have cost him the opportunity to be Obama's vice presidential candidate in the 2008 election. Here is a clip from 2006, in which Jim Webb is asked about how his opinions have changed since he published his now infamous article:

The and general attitude and comments from 1979 could, perhaps, be attributed to our slightly less evolved social structure. It is easy to read these transcripts and feel superior to our collective former selves. In fact, I'd like to take a moment and and raise a glass to the opportunity of being a 21st century woman, living in a society which respects my dignity and abilities as both a woman and a human; a society when people like Senator Jim Webb are compelled to take back their out-dated comments in order to continue on a path of public service. It's true that we still live in an imperfect world, but the sure signs of progress can't help but leave me feeling optimistic.

What do you think? Do the unique issues that surround women in the military impact our national security or the ability of our military to function in the most effective or efficient way? How has your experience (personal or otherwise) with the military shaped your view of women's contributions? How far have we really come since 1979?

[The parenthetical citations come from: "Women in the Military Hearings before the Military Personnel Subcommittee of the Committee on Armed Services House of Representatives Ninety-Sixth Congress First and Second Sessions," November 13, 14, 15, 16, 1979 and February 11, 1980. U.S. Government Printing Office. Washington: 1981.]

Buon giorno!

2009-09-03T10:29:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my blog.

I am a first year graduate student at Temple University and my first assignment is to create a blog for my Public History course. I think it's a cool assignment for three reasons:

1) I love the internet. Seriously, any excuse for me to be happily perched by the bell tower with my MacBook Air is a wonderful thing.

2) It is a relatively informal way for me to express my thoughts about history, which is good because I have many of these thoughts and they are not always well-crafted enough to become part of a paper or class discussion.

3) Everyone in the class has to do this so I'll be able to read about their ideas and experiences and learn from them! Plus, I might be able to get some feedback from my classmates, professor, and any interested friends and family who might read this (Mom? Dad?).

My historical interests are, generally, in 20th century U.S. and, specifically, conservative movements in the '60s. I am particularly intrigued by conservatives' use of the courts as a means to advance their political agenda.

My only real piece of historical writing at this point is my senior thesis, which I completed in 2008 at the College of Wooster. It is called "The '60s in a Neon Oven: The Chicago 8 and Middle America." It explores the attempts of the prosecution and the defense to sway popular opinion regarding the trial (and all that it represented) in 1969.

In addition to being a student of history, I am also a real person:

I have been to Italy, France, China, the Netherlands, Malta and, most importantly, Canada.
I watch too much TV. I especially enjoy Mad Men, House, and 30 Rock.
I am an enthusiastic spectator of musical theater.
I bought my first car last year. Well, technically, I think the bank still owns most of the car, but I drive it. Its name is Abbie.
I am a long-distance member of the world's best book club, called the "Uppity Women." Hence the title of this blog.

Now it's time to get started on my first assignment for my research seminar. I am a little nervous about doing it well and I have a feeling it will not be as much fun as writing in this blog.

Thanks for dropping by!