Wednesday, November 30, 2011

"Finding A Home For Difficult Pasts" Reading Blog

This week's readings, while taking on the subject of "difficult pasts" has been, in a word, difficult for me. As public historians we all hope that we are creating work that engages the public; work that speaks well to a variety of the different ethnic, socioeconomic, and intellectual backgrounds that our visitors encompass. This week's readings have left me less than hopeful that this is an accomplishable goal, or even, it might seem at some cultural institutions, the goal at all.

The essays in Slavery in Public History tell too well the story of American discomfort with troubling practices of the past. Sadly, all the smart and important work being done by public historians to try and engage the public in a critical analysis of the role of slavery and race in American history is likely lost on a public that is at times unable and other times unwilling to talk about it. Unless Americans come to terms with the "difficult" parts of history, and begin to speak candidly and openly about the complex relationship of slavery, race, class, and economics in American past, public historians might just be spinning their wheels.

Another reading for this week that gave me similar feelings of despair for the public history craft was The Lowell Experiment. The book, a case study of sorts about the cultural revitalization efforts of Lowell, Mass., was actually one of my favorite books of the semester. (Regardless of the mood it put me in.) I think my concerns can be best summed up by a passage from the book: "even when the officially sanctioned narratives are unusually critical and challenging, then, as they are in Lowell, these "communicative spaces" are highly selective about what they actually communicate. And despite the good intentions of many of the people who shaped these landscapes, they do not provide maps for actual participation in conversation about the relationships of power and modes of production in the word we live in now."(pg 67)

So, this leaves me thinking, what if, with all our good intentions we still aren't talking about the right things. Sure we can talk critically about a number of issues in a public history setting, but will we look back in 20 years and hope we told the same stories? If we are unable to get the public to discuss the "difficult stuff" of American history, then did we fail to provide those maps for participation? It would seem so.

Perhaps this post is particularly pessimistic because its the end of the semester and the large ominous cloud of unfinished school work is about to rain down on my head. I hope that is so, because I'm an eternal optimist, and this week the readings had me feeling pretty blue.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

"Preservation and National Memory" Reading Blog

This week's readings have been good food for thought for me.

Doss's Memorial Mania is an impressive book that takes a really interesting look at the culture of commemoration that has sprung up in modern America, a tradition she traces to the period after the Civil War. Doss argues that memorials, statues, and the like, are personal ways for people to express their own preferred versions of a national collective memory and disputed political narratives. This mania surrounding the commemoration of both the big and the small, the happy and the sad, has allowed for the plurality of social, cultural, and political narratives that can be seen throughout the country. In a somewhat opposite phenomenon, Mires's book Independence Hall explains how competing narratives have all been condensed, or rather covered up, with one particular way of remembering the site of Independence Hall. It appears that in our national scramble to remember, it can be just as easy to forget.

I agree with the main points of Doss's arguments, but I wish to make a broader connection here to other ideas we've talked about. Doss seems to emphasize the importance of the materiality and narrative of such memorials, and to me this speaks to the arguments I have made before, referring to Presence of the Past, that people seem most connected to (or in this case most willing to accept the interpretation of) something that is material. My reading of Rosenzweig and Thelen informed my opinion that people trust museums because museums have stuff. People connect with what they can touch (or could touch if the objects weren't housed in exhibit cases) and these memorials, huge hulking pieces of stone that many of them are, fulfill that need to touch a part of history. Even if most of these memorials aren't actually historic themselves.

The other two readings for this week: Crane's chapter on time, memory, and museums as well as Glassberg's essay on public history and memory, allow for even more discussion on the function of memory in the historical process. I think these pieces can augment our understanding of the larger claims that the books from this week are making. Crane's work seems to me, at least, to back up my idea about the importance of materiality in the contention of memory and history. And Glassberg has given us a helpful blueprint of how to work through these issues as he explores the ways public history can remedy the ills of collective memory.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

"Interpretation and Its Costs" Reading blog

This weeks readings, Freeman Tilden's Interpreting Our Heritage,  Michael Frisch's A Shared Authority, and Andrew Hurley's Beyond Preservation, unsurprisingly all focus on issues of interpretation when doing public history. Coming from the somewhat scattered and unorganized meeting we all had last week, where answering questions of "who is the audience?" and "what does the content say?" seemed almost impossible, I'm glad for a chance for us all to discuss the importance of interpretation in pursuit of "doing good history" and what this can mean for our exhibit. The readings speak strongly to the importance of "knowing one's audience" something that we talk a lot about in class, and have discussed with some of the other readings. But they also speak to the fact that interpreting is an art form, and as such we need to be thoughtful and practice our own interpretive skills (luckily Tilden's book gives us a good starting place for interpretive techniques). Obviously to successful interpret and sell our interpretations to our visitors, the first thing we need to do is to hammer down a better idea of who our audience is, what they expect, what appeals to them, etc.

It seems to me, even if a bit abstractly, that Hurley's emphasis on inclusive shared pasts as the way to utilize preservation and interpretation might be a good way to think about what our project hopes to achieve. If we continue in the path of this Historic Germantown idea we began to float at the last meeting, it will be important to tie the history of center city Philly to the history of Germantown. While I understand that Hurley is arguing for better inner city preservation tactics that are inclusive and balance the interests of all the diverse members of an urban community, I still think his approach will be valuable for us.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

What is a Museum? Reading Blog for Week 5

This week's readings, Private History in Public, The New History in an Old Museum, "Civic Seeing", and Chs 1&5 in Re-Imagining the Museum raise several important issues for discussion. And more importantly how the ideas and issues can help shape the exhibit that we are responsible for (theoretically) designing.

Tony Bennet's article "Civic Seeing" brings up the important issue of museums being places for civic engagement and the underlying power relations that implies. If being a visitor at a museum is an act of citizenship, what does this say about the way in which museums specifically target demographics and different constituencies? The idea that museums are reinforcing class (among other) divisions is important in thinking about the suitability of a museum as an inclusive cultural institution. The chapters in Andrea Witcomb's Re-Imagining the Museum reaffirm this view of the museum as a meeting of history and power.

Witcomb also discusses another of the common themes in this weeks readings, the importance of new and digital media in museums. This is of particular importance to the exhibit that we will be planning. Witcomb makes a point to detail the relationship between objects and power, so how can our exhibit function in the context of a museum with only a defining concept but no real artifacts? Answering this question will be important in moving forward with our exhibit planning.

The two monographs in this weeks readings also are important in thinking about the place of museums in our society and how best to design an exhibit that is both engaging and relevant. Private History in Public is a great jumping-off point for thinking about the way in which visitors and museums curators interact. Assuming the responsibility of (theoretical) curators for this exhibit, we must be mindful of how we relate to our stakeholders.  The New History in an Old Museum, in the context of our assignment, is a cautionary tale of how even the best intentions at innovative and timely historical interpretation can go awry, or worse, unnoticed. We would do well to think about the ways that sensitive subjects can be displayed in a museum/exhibit setting that while not alienating, can still be salient.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Readings Week 2

This weeks readings: Ken Yellis' article "Fred Wilson, PTSD and Me," Paul Boyer's chapter, "Who's History Is It Anyways" in History Wars, and The Presence of the Past by Rosenzweig and Thelen.

The Yellis article is really thought-provoking and explores many of the basic questions regarding museum practice and the purpose and place of museums in America. Yellis commits in the article to the idea that a good exhibit must either 1) tell a new story or 2) tell an old story in a new way. And this made me wonder what our proposed exhibit for class will do. Are we retelling an old story, or writing a new one? Could we do both if we wanted to? Yellis' arguments that museums are a place people go for new insights into subjects, rather than information about them, reinforces the importance of informed but also innovative interpretation in exhibits.

Boyer's chapter in History Wars gives an overview of the Enola Gay controversy at the NASM, but more importantly it attempts to explain why that exhibit stirred up all the emotions that it did. Boyer raises the interesting point that seemed to be at the center of the controversy, who should be the ones determining historical meaning, historians or "the people"? Another important take-away from Boyer's essay was the importance of timing in the reception of historical interpretations. He points out that the 1960s was a far better time to question the official state narrative on any number of things, and that the 1990s was perhaps the worst time to challenge popular memory on the bombings of Hiroshima/Nagaskai because of its appeal as a sort of "last hurrah" at the 50th year anniversary for WWII vets.

Rosenzweig and Thelen's Presence of the Past, the results of a survey of the ways in which Americans engage with the past/history/narratives brings the important parts of the other pieces into perspective. Rosenzweig and Thelen found that people do actively engage with historical narratives, but in a personal  way. They create their own narratives to explain their family, group, and national pasts. The alienation and disconnect that many people feel from "history" in an educational or museum setting has little to do with interest in history and more to do with the way in which it is presented to the audience. Taking into account all of the readings it can be seen that an innovative, original, well-timed, inclusive and relevant exhibit, in which people can see their own personal stories, would be best received.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Fundraising the Dead

Sheila Connolly's Fundraising the Dead was an interesting, if at times topical, look into the running of a public history institution. Of course this book wasn't written to be included in a history graduate class syllabus (although I have a feeling that fact would thrill Connolly,) so the flair for the dramatic, the office romance/love triangle scenario and the somewhat flowery depiction of Philadelphia will have to be excused. But behind the glossy cover and the annoying similarities between Connolly and the heroine Nell Pratt, there is an important analysis about the way cultural institutions are run.

This book actually did a surprisingly good job at giving a basic overview of what the running of public history institution might look like. Connolly's inside knowledge of the way a museum or archive works came across in her descriptions of the characters jobs, her insight that public image and member donations are integral to the successful funding of such organizations, and the kind of team effort that it takes to keep such institutions running.

The most important issues, in my mind, that Connolly touched on were the managing and security of collections. To the general public the idea that historic treasures are poorly catalogued, often misplaced, or even at risk of theft or vandalism is probably an unsettling thought. Questions of how to balance the responsibility of cultural heritage institutions with their entrusted collections, and balance a budget as well are raised in this book and deserve much discussion. With the technology to manage collections digitally, but without the funding to do so shouldn't just distress young public historians hoping to find jobs. These are the issues needing discussed and the questions needing answered when talking about the future of museums, archives, and other public history institutions.