Applied History

This is my first foray into Historic Preservation literature, and I’ll admit I was a little wary and had a few preconceived notions about how engaging this book would be or not be. I was pleasantly surprised and entirely engaged in the reading. The authors do a great job of introducing the history of preservation practices and legislation in the United States while intermixing the theoretical and philosophical background of different schools of preservation.

While studying archaeology both here and in the UK, I often encountered the question of “Why?” Why do we spend long, hard, cold days in the field minutely recording and recovering pieces of the long dead past? Why do we meticulously map and illustrate standing buildings? These are great essential questions of archaeology, history, and preservation – of public history in all forms. This book addresses these questions through the theoretical discussions of how preservation should and has occurred in the United States. The authors pose the question “Does preservation stand in the way of progress?” (p. 12). They answer this question using numerous sources, but my two favorite quotes sum up my feelings on the issue rather nicely. The first is from John Lawrence: “The basic purpose of preservation is not to arrest time, but to mediate sensitively with the forces of change. It is to understand the present as a product of the past and a modifier of the future.” (p. 14). The second, in the authors’ own words, supplements the first quotation and serves to begin answering the essential questions I mentioned earlier. “Our society will have matured when its primary focus shifts from the quantitative to the qualitative – when we recognize the need to preserve our built heritage because it represents who we are as a people.” (p. 15).

How then should we preserve the past? I absolutely loathe the philosophy of Viollet-le-Duc. Rebuilding structures as the ‘should have been’?! How pompous and narcissistic! However, this was certainly the philosophy in the United Kingdom during the Victorian period. It was practically championed by Queen Victoria herself and is exemplified in the current structure of Edinburgh Castle. It was basically redesigned under Queen Victoria’s orders to look more like an ancient fort. The problem is, now everything dates to the Victorian period except two buildings! On the other hand, leaving structures completely untouched is a rather melancholy thought. I am far more a fan of Ruskin and the idea that “The greatest glory of a building is not in its stones, or in its gold. Its glory is in its Age.” (p. 22). However, I believe both philosophies are cautionary tales that should be used as points to start the discussions of individual preservation projects. I also very much enjoyed the inclusion of preservation philosophies of other cultures. I was particularly intrigued by the Japanese philosophy that reflects the cycle of life, death, and renewal. The question for modern preservationists is how can elements of each philosophy serve to preserve this particular structure, in this particular setting?

The evolution of preservation movements in the United States was very interesting. It is easy to see connections between the changing theories in both preservation and history. Both switched from a focus on prominent men or their houses, to thematic research or preservation. In light of the piece we read about the Black Bottom, I appreciated the section “A Reaction Against Urban Renewal”. The authors poignantly point out the relationship these projects have with the communities in which they are implemented: “The past was no longer being ignored, but now was purposefully being destroyed.” (p. 44). The authors point to Jane Jacobs’ book The Death and Life of Great American Cities to further emphasize this point. “Her book was an important catalyst in stirring the public’s recognition that more than just saving some landmark structures, preservation dealt with preserving the very fabric of communities.

As a final thought, I appreciated the list of Boise’s endangered historic sites. I only knew where a few of them were and I am intrigued by those listings and by the bike tours mentioned by Mandy. And as a final, final thought – Does anyone else really dislike modern architecture or is that just me? Straight lines, no embellishment, harsh, cold materials. No thank you.

If you have not done so already, I give you a challenge to participate in Preservation Idaho’s bike tour of architectural styles found in Boise.   There are three reasons to do so:  you get to ride your bike, you get to learn about Boise history, and the best reason of all, is that it is free.   (Or at least has been).   I have participated in two bike tours.  The first was the Art Deco tour of the North End.  My life centers on the Bench and so I was amazed about the large number of homes both large and small that contain elements of the Art Deco style.  The second tour was about small houses on the Boise Bench created by an architect who cared nothing for architectural rules and regulations.  He just put together elements that he liked of all types of architectural styles.   (His name escapes me now which does not help with the point that I am trying to make about this being a memorable experience).  These homes are largely located in the Rose Hill area.   If you Google 4006 Rose Hill Street, you can see an image of his work.     As you can imagine, these houses were the laughing stock of proper architecture.  Now, they are seen as unique homes full of character.

So this brings me to the book.   How can preservationists and new developers come to a consensus on what to preserve, what to build, and in what style?   If Mr. No-name architect did not have the opportunity to build in his wonky way, would Boise now lack a distinct house style different from anywhere else in the U.S.?    Preservationists, I think, have to have the ability to see value in the past as well as what will be valued history in the future.  Also, the preservationist has to see value in architecture (or sites, etc.) for themselves, but for other groups within the community.  There is a great responsibility to preserve the collective history.  The book mentions later that even though for me, personally, Starbucks is not especially important. But, in how many years will generations younger than I want to preserve the coffee shops as they are today as a representation of the culture of the 2000’s?

Then again, there are the hard questions.   At what point do old buildings need to be demolished?   Even if I find a building to be too far gone, but it the cultural center for others,  who gets the say?  Or should get the say?   Also, if we look too much to the past, are we limiting future good things?

Hard philosophical questions aside, take a bike tour next time the opportunity arises.

I don’t really have one cohesive, overarching thought about this week’s reading. So here’s a collection of my random thoughts while reading!

– Making personal profiles for visitors and taking tools from amusement parks. I wonder if The Wizarding World of Harry Potter changes their visitor’s experience based upon what Hogwarts House they’re sorted into. It’s like J.K. Rowling planned ahead to have a participatory amusement park or something!

– I’m glad Simon mentioned adding a sticker color or label for those who do not want to talk to others about the exhibit. As someone with social anxiety, trying to make small talk with people is extraordinarily difficult for me. This is especially true in situations where I feel like I’m being put on the spot. If a stranger randomly asked me about my opinion on a painting, I’d freeze up and feel uncomfortable. One thing I hate museums doing is designing part of an exhibit where you HAVE to interact with another person in order to proceed through the exhibit.

– You’d be surprised how many of these participatory ideas Starbucks is using to attract repeat business. As a barista I was empowered as a front line employee to give away free drinks & food whenever I felt it was necessary or would help connect with a customer. Now, as a retired barista, I still follow Starbucks’ news, continue to care an abnormal amount about cafe quality, and expect a certain level of customer service when interacting with other businesses. I mean they’ve somehow made me invested in this company even after we officially parted ways. Further, they have both the free membership card featuring custom coupons and a coffee passport book to help engage return visits.

-Simon asks how we might put Illich’s Phonebook of talents into play. While I don’t really have a solution, it would be interesting to post a listing on something like Fiverr offering to pay people $5 to teach you something new. Anyone up for a social experiment?

-One thing I do worry about is that many of Simon’s ideas are require a high level of technical savvy. How many museums are going to have funds and skills to accomplish these ideas? Not to mention upkeep. During my visit to BAM for this class, I noticed that half of the interactive exhibits were broken. “Managing & Sustaining Participation,“ AKA the chapter of broken museum dreams, did little to settle my worries. It just made me even more worried that wonderful institutions full of great information will fall by the wayside due to their inability to keep up.

The Participatory Museum is perhaps one of the most useful reads we have had so far. I appreciate that Nina Simon has thoroughly developed design models surrounding types/ levels of participation, but also spews out basic brainstorming around each of the types to get the ball rolling for readers and perhaps spawn creativity in translating the case studies and levels of interactivity into their own institutions.

Firstly, I love the idea of “multi-directional content experiences.” It seems common sense that not every museum visitor should have the same experience or take-away from their visit. In fact, even if this is what the institution was aiming for it would be impossible since every visitor has their own unique set of experiences, values, preferences, that shape their understanding. Why, then, is there so often a single narrative and direction in which to follow it? The idea, then, of “opportunities for diverse visitor co-produced experiences” to me reads like a choose-your-own-adventure story. I find it thrilling and democratizing that visitors should shape their own experience in the place, and even more so when Simon considers the ways in which an individual visitor’s actions can shape the experiences of other visitors in the me-to-we vein.

I also appreciated Simon’s different types of web participants and how that could translate to an institution. Not everyone is a creator, some choose to consume media as spectators, other simply like to lurk. Further, these identities should be structured as a continuum, or a fluid identity that changes between moments, platforms, subjects, etc. I also liked that in encouraging increased opportunity for participation in museums, Simon continuously reminds us that we shouldn’t simply replace the rigorous content-driven approach with co-curated level 5 interactivity, but to create opportunities for each type depending on the preference of the users. Another idea we have previously discussed that reappeared in this reading is the idea of dissonance, and productively using it as an opportunity to advance dialogue. My favorite example of dissonance here was the use of profiling/division as a tool, in separating visitors to the Apartheid Museum upon entry. This could be used in institutions with missions related to race, gender, or other types of identity that have been politicized at certain points in time. It needs to be used gently as does create discomfort, but I think the dissonance can be particularly useful in helping visitors understand the discomfort that certain individuals experience(d) daily. I think this goes beyond the passport/nametag approach that tries to encourage identification with historical figures on a surface level.

Like Katrina, I tremendously enjoyed the scaffolding model for encouraging participation in a guided manner. It seems odd that a blank canvas is more daunting than a coloring book page, especially to sophisticated audiences of cultural institutions, but the guided-participation approach is more productive for both the institution and the visitor. I think one aspect in which it is more useful for the institution is that it stays relevant to the theme or learning objective of the exhibit it corresponds to, ensuring that its later incorporation or display (which Simon points out is an integral part of developing the participatory model into the higher stages) remains relevant, educational, dialogic, etc. for the institution and later (perhaps returning) visitors.

I was drawn to the “I like museums” trails, and I think it is an important lesson in curation vs. contribution. While originally the editors/staff created trails surrounding specific interests, visitor types, location, etc., the ability for the museum-going public to contribute their own trails not only creates interactivity between visitors with different interests but contributes to a deeper understanding to the value of institutions to unexpected visitors. If there isn’t an American version of this I think there should be. I also liked the paper approach in museums which is easily replicable. I think one of the insights I gained from Simon is that every participatory initiative need not be an expensive, time-consuming, digital platform, but can be similarly accomplished in simple traditional ways such as brochures of different guided tours depending on your mood, “talk to me about stickers,” a plywood advice booth, physical “punch cards” on a wall, sticky notes, and voting booths. An institutional model I gained a lot of insight from was the idea of different levels or types of memberships, which allow visitors to customize their own interactions with the institution and gain a certain experience from them depending on their desires or interests. I think this could be easily applied to the focus groups and behind-the-scenes experiences Simon mentions, but could also be useful in more “risky” encounters such as the dialogue series we have mentioned in class.

The Participatory Museum is both useful and entertaining. The style of writing is detailed, articulate, and witty. The major themes that jumped out at me throughout the first half of the book were scaffolding, clear communication, trust between visitor and institution, scaffolding, individualization, staff involvement, and scaffolding. Yes, scaffolding. I do love a good bit of scaffolding. “The misguided perception is that it’s more respectful to allow visitors to do their own thing—that the highest-value participatory experiences will emerge from unfettered self-expression. But that idea reflects a misunderstanding of what motivates participation. Visitors don’t want a blank slate for participation. They need well-scaffolded experiences that put their contributions to meaningful use.” Love it. I think this should be a key takeaway from this reading for our group project. Often institutions become overzealous and want everyone to be creators. Many of the best participatory experiences I have had are when I engage with what other visitors have created. I enjoy being a part of the process of creating, but am not prepared or willing to start from scratch. Creating programs that involve all versions of participation from individual intake to active creation is obviously challenging, but ultimately the most rewarding.

I appreciate her focus on audience-centered design and the examples she uses to illustrate it, especially the I Like Museums trails. The idea of creating ‘user profiles’ within the museum and the inherent difficulties intrigued me as someone who worked as a Visitor Services Assistant in a national museum. There was a strange paradox in the directives from on high – we were always counting visitor numbers, but we were supposed to be focused on creating memorable moments for individuals. I thought our maps were pretty good, but now, thinking about really creating individual experiences, they were absolutely useless unless all of your individual desires centered on a highlights tour.

I really like the “me-to-we” design that Simon has created and outlined. I think the most useful aspect of this design is that it provides scaffolding (yes) for developing and for evaluating participatory programs. We can look at or participate in events/exhibitions and begin to understand how they can be scaled up to include stages 3-5, or maintained as is, to engage with the desired audience. I love the idea of creating opportunities for individuals to become a community. After all, museums are public, social institutions and we were just discussing their role in bringing communities together around difficult subjects. The example of Free2choose sounds like an amazing experience, not only as a way to create a true participatory experience at stage 3, but also a great way to tackle difficult issues and at least get people thinking and talking amongst themselves, if not in the larger group.

There was a lot of information to take in and the number and quality of examples Simon uses is extremely helpful in understanding her major points. As a final thought, we should use the example of It Is What It Is as cautionary tale while we design our group project. Our idea for Conversations for Common Grounds is amazing, but the key is the scaffolding. We are taking the best aspect of the Human Library and remixing it with conversations between ‘serious students of…’ (which is a better way of saying ‘expert’) that can then be broken down by individuals in groups. Thinking about this, what is our goal? Is it the dialogue? Having a well-defined goal and designing the specifics backwards (Understanding by Design) may be a great way to continue developing our group project, which, if you can’t tell, I’m super excited about.