Applied History

This second portion of the book was much more interesting and easier for me to visualize in terms of public curation.  I love the idea of increasing the amount of history blended with art.  I feel that as historians, we all have similar educational backgrounds.  Many artists come from outside that background and provide creative ways of showcasing history (and do not shy away from controversial subjects) that perhaps historians would not otherwise consider.  Mining the Museum represented a good balance of art and history collaboration.  Wilson stressed context and environment when he was creating the installation, as well as communication and trust with the museum staff.  That trusting relationship and communication between curator and artist is the key to creating these installations, and having expectations met.  I cringe at the prospect of relinquishing control of anything, but with trust and communication, I think we can see the benefits.  Art and history are so connected that I don’t think you can separate them, even with contemporary artists and their interpretations.

I was happy that the Story Corps chapter addressed some of the questions I had when reading it.  I liked that Story Corps took these stories and created a “bottom up” framework and empowered people, but was hesitant to call it history.  I agree that when the goal is to connect people emotionally without context, and not necessarily to inform, then can it really be called history?  I understand that it can loosely be seen as oral history, but having an agenda attached, specifically to make people cry, is it fair to be included?  We have seen that when historians edit and manipulate evidence, as the Story Corps people have done, it calls into question your whole body of research (David Irving, anyone?).  By making the people telling the stories nondescript, I feel like that takes away from the historic value that can be gained from listening to people’s experiences.  I see the draw and power that these stories have, but I suppose the problems for me were that they were nondescript people and that the narratives were heavily edited.  Since I was hesitant to consider this history, I was confused why it was included at all.

While reading this book, I was asking myself the very question that appeared on page 198. Does public curation engage a broader audience or does it simply engage a different audience?  I know more research needs to be done to answer this question, and I’m curious to see the results.  In my experience, I keep thinking back to a few people I know that have no interest in museums, regardless of the content.  Either they do not have the money or time, or they feel that other things are more important and leave the museum visits to school field trips.  I see the value in public curation and the attempts to gain broader audiences, but I wonder how many people like this are out there who just refuse to go to museums.  Is the goal of these efforts to change their minds?

Lastly, I couldn’t help thinking of a history-art instance that went terribly wrong that I experienced, again in my trip to Paris in 2008.  One day of my visit was spent at Versailles.  At the time, Versailles was home to an art installation by Jeff Koons, which featured giant balloon animals and vacuum sculptures amongst the baroque palace rooms.  In my personal opinion, it was ugly and bizarre, with no collaboration between art and history.  As a tourist, you go to Versailles to see the Hall of Mirrors, the gardens, and Marie Antoinette’s bedroom.  You go for the extravagance, albeit the very thing that ruined the monarchy, but nevertheless, the sheer extravagance and significance is the draw.  The sculptures had no context or relevance to the baroque period and were completely out of place.  Had they been in a museum that covered a range of time periods and pieces it would have made more sense, but by choosing a historical site such as a baroque palace, it really soured my memory of touring Versailles.  Call me old-school, but I did not appreciate modern art juxtapositioned with the most famous French palace.   I think this can be considered an example of what not to do.

Here is the link where I found the picture. It contains a slideshow of all the pieces at Versailles if you’re interested in seeing more: http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2008/09/11/arts/design/20080911_KOONS_SLIDESHOW_index.html

On a side note, this weekend I watched a documentary on Netflix called A Ballerina’s Tale.  It follows Misty Copeland’s journey to become the first black principal dancer of any major international company in 2015.  The documentary remarked that by casting Copeland in famous major roles with the American Ballet Theater, it brought many different people to the theater, a place that historically does not contain much diversity.  It discussed the growing diversity within the arts, the “color of ballet”, and the influences that can have.  I connected it with our reading because museums are trying to do just that.  Their goal is to broaden audiences, just as ABT had done.  Plus, you get to see some beautiful dancing. Just thought I’d mention it because this happened so recently (2015) and shows that boundaries still exist within art and history.

Having community input on projects is so important. If a community or a committee of people want to create an art piece, a museum gallery, or an exhibition of any kind that surrounds a particular place or group of people, it is of the utmost importance that there is input by those people. In the chapter regarding the Black Bottom neighborhood, they talk about how the community members of Black Bottom had the final say on any of the scenes that were to be performed. I think this is one of the most important parts of public history. With the approval and input of the Black Bottomers, they allowed the community to truly tell their story and their history without it being patronizing or told incorrectly. If you start an exhibition on the history of cattle ranchers but have never spoken to a cattle rancher, then what is the point?

The reason why I am so on-board with user-generated content and public history projects like the ones talked about in Letting Go? is because of the real power it can give communities and groups of people if done right. And this is exactly why I am all about StoryCorps. “First, and most directly, StoryCorps sets out to spark a shift in historical understanding: it wants to demonstrate powerfully, viscerally, exhaustively that ordinary people shape history.”(pg. 177) They’re focused on breaking the mold of top-down history telling, which I am very passionate about. “If museums tell stories–rich, complex ones that engage emotions–then visitors will engage, reflect, and, likely, be moved to tell stories of their own.” (pg. 189) History to me should be based on the bottom-up storytelling and StoryCorps is a great example of how this can be done well. People will always be passionate about their own history and their own stories and if museums and historians can incorporate that kind of passion into exhibits, classrooms, and galleries, then maybe historians won’t be the only people to care about history.

Public history should be seen as a way of collaborating (with either artists, communities, or just people in general) that ultimately strengthens public history as a whole. While museums and historians shouldn’t give up their academic discipline and authority over collections and interpretations, they should be open to collaborations and input from communities in order to strengthen their work and bring everyone into the fold of the beauty of history.

As someone who has participated in living history, the attitude toward reenactors as kitschy bothers me a lot. While it is true that many such installations are created by amateur historians, said amateurs did not simply pluck their ideas from the ether and call it fact. Most of us have spent the majority of our lives reading academic books and articles on our topics, and strive for accuracy to the point of absurdity (see Dr. Madsen-Brooks’s comment about how questions about Civil War battlefields devolve into discussions about historically accurate buttons). While its true that reenactors have the potential to provide inaccurate information, the majority of people involved are only there because they have so much passion for the time period that minutiae like buttons are fascinating to them, and they wish to share that passion with others.

Additionally, these installations provide valuable insight into the lives of people long gone. I had read about medieval cloth weaving techniques, and seen curated examples of medieval cloth, but I did not have a fraction of the understanding for the time and labor weaving cloth takes until I watched a woman work a medieval-style loom. Living history presentations are essential for someone who cares not only that a process occurred, but how.

History has a lot to gain from the inclusion of artists of various kinds. Certainly they lend a visceral component to history that is generally not present in curated collections alone. The concern that what artists lend to the conversation may not be entirely historically ‘correct’ is a valid one–however it is also true that many amateur historians and artists have valuable contributions to make to the overall understanding of how the past was experienced by those who lived it.

As I read through Letting Go I do not think the authors of any of these articles would consider that they are advocating for the removal of professional historical analysis from public venues. Instead they are encouraging participation from the community in a way that is controlled and carefully vetted for content quality. Rather than opening the door and giving over completely to whatever user content is created they want to start a dialogue with the community instead, in order to present information that is more likely to get people to come and view their products. This is less of a case of letting go, and more a case of selective invitation to others to come in to the world presented by the historical venue. It makes a lot of sense to do this, particularly from the perspective of the museum as a business, as it ensures their media will always be consumed as well as preventing their idea pool from stagnating.

I find the idea of an “unsuggester” intriguing for multiple reasons, the least of which is its ability to promote expanded experiences among those who might use it. By showing someone a book or exhibit that is the opposite to their favorite thing, such a function would give a person access to the ability to see that different does not necessarily mean bad and that many thought processes and ideologies can coexist comfortably. Small institutions would have difficulty implementing such a tool, as they likely do not have the space or scope to provide such a disparate amount of material, but large institutions like presidential libraries or museums that cover more than local history would certainly be able to use such a tool, and would encourage patrons to explore exhibits that they may have never considered to be relevant to their lives.

I honestly had never given much thought to how the directors of public history institutions might need to change how their projects are designed in order to maintain public interest. Certainly I can see that how the current lack of emphasis on education and the dismissal of the liberal arts as worthless would harm places who seek to preserve and interpret the past. I am interested to see if and how these new approaches breathe new life into public history installations. I hope they do, as I have always loved museums and interpretive centers, and would hate to see them become obsolete.

“Public curation” is a wonderful and exciting tool that museums across the country should be looking forward to engaging in. To me, public engagement should be a number one priority and something that all museums strive for. While museums celebrate the history of everyday life, they can also be extremely personal to anyone walking through the doors. Encouraging everyone to participate in some way in their local or non-local museum is an important idea.

I especially enjoyed Nina Simon’s strong stance on proper feedback by museums. She explains extremely well why museums and their participatory efforts fail due to the lack of proper feedback by museums. Museums cannot simply open up voting on galleries or encourage gallery ideas and not give the participators a response or turn their suggestions into action. Keeping the full engagement of a community is especially important for museums. If the community engages and participates and the museum does little in return to show that that participation is valid and useful, the community will turn away from the museum.

Matthew Fischer’s perspective on audience curation and participation fascinated me immensely. He talks about how historians have a huge job of interpreting history and telling a story through detective work, curation, and editing. He believes that non-historians should be able to share in this work as well. I find this extremely insightful. I think that historians have such a huge task of producing engaging and challenging historical research but have such few avenues to share their work. By letting the public share in this through technology, the work of historians can be strengthened. This perspective ties in nicely with Nancy MacLean’s perspective on how museum curators and the museum experts should embrace views of the public. She talks about how museums and staff need to learn with their community and embrace change. This kind of give and take should be important to all historians in any field as well as curators.

Since history is so personal, I think that museums and historians should be encouraging public perspective and participation. If the study of history and the physical space of a museum is to continue, the public must be included, encouraged, and listened to. This isn’t some alien past, it’s everyone’s past and everyone’s history.