Applied History

This is a picture of a water irrigation pump, powered by a lawn mower engine. It came to mind while reading “Private Property and the Ecological: Commons in the American West.” This particular pump has been a part of the landscape in my parents’ home since I was young. This fixture in my backyard was a social “norm” in my area of town. The whole section of town I grew up in either had a ditch running through the backyard or water hole where the irrigated water would show up once or twice a week. The pump related to the chapters for this week in varying ways. The most obvious was the water laws in southern Idaho. Most people had lawn mower water pumps to move the water from the backyard to water their entire lawns. Every year on the corner of Hawthorne and Quinn streets a sign popped up in the spring announcing the “mandatory” water meeting that decided where and when the water would be available for people to use on their property. The term “mandatory” was used loosely. It meant if you had an opinion of when you should receive water each week and what time of day you should attend. Mainly people who had horse pastures or large vegetable garden would attend the meeting. The rest like my parents would receive a letter advising when to expect water each week and bill for the summer dues. It mirrors Mark Fiege’s analysis on a smaller level; a community of neighbors sharing water in the summer for use on their private property. This service was provided at a small fee compared to city water prices. Just like the private property signs of the west, these water pumps demonstrate the history of water use in Idaho within the city.

The water pump would remain an unimportant fixture in my memory, like Californian bungalows, had I not previously read Peirce Lewis’ chapter on how to read cultural landscapes. If you were to ask me if I “liked” the water pump, I would have answered no. I think it is hideous and reminds me what a chore moving the water was. Ask the questions the Lewis suggestions on page 93, “What is that? Why does it look that way it does? How does it work? Why is it there?” These questions make the pump much more interesting. It is a water pump sitting on an old lawn mower stand because it is using the lawn mower engine. It is still a mystery to me how the thing works, because it breaks every summer. To answer the question why it is there can range from a simple answer of; to water our lawn or, as in depth, to explain private property laws bending to the communal water use.  The vocabulary about its history was explained by Fiege and what little I knew of water meetings.

 A last connection is to the “The Enacted Environment.” (I did not make a connection to Medicine in the (Mini) Mall. I found the article fascinating, but it did not peak my interest like the other articles.) David C. Sloanes explanation of front yard evolution is similar to the evolution of the landscape in the neighborhood I grew up in. The land on the west side of Pocatello was all farm land bought in the 1940’s and turned into a housing development. In is a couple blocks of little rectangle houses on a fourth of an acre lots. They used the same water irrigation that farms used for the houses now. Therefore, irrigation used to water crops now waters lawns for a whole neighborhood.

The chapters selected for this week’s reading provided a good variety of material to think about. I got quite a bit out of Peirce Lewis’ “The Monument and the Bungalow.” I thought his two-part advice on how to begin evaluating and studying landscape was simple yet true, especially looking back at my familiarization with architectural history. Lewis suggested that we first need to be open, curious and ask unbiased questions, and to be sure to acquire the necessary vocabulary and background first. I’ve done quite a bit of work with inventorying residential neighborhoods, and too often I waited to study architectural types until after fieldwork. On another note, I had no knowledge of the Arts & Crafts style before this week’s reading.

I enjoyed Lewis’ musings on the fact that so many plantations stand while few sharecropper cabins do. The biased nature of landscape study and, often, historic preservation is an interesting aspect to touch upon. The “Great Man” school of thought is far-reaching.

I also really enjoyed Mark Fiege’s section on ecological commons. I read his book, Irrigated Eden: The Making of an Agricultural Landscape in the American West when working on my senior paper as an undergrad. That book dealt with the changing of the Southern Idaho landscape due to irrigation, the degree to which man could control nature, and the ways in which nature shaped the human environment. It does go into quite a bit of detail regarding the “rabbit drives,” which I wasn’t quite ready to hear at the time.

As for the Fiege piece included in the book – I thought it added to the argument that simple artifacts (such as the “No Hunting” sign) can convey endless amounts of information on places, or at least become important starting places when trying to understand the landscape around them.

My ability to be provoked into a tirade over one word will never cease to amaze me. Today, this word is ‘fossil’. However, this is an agreeable tirade; more of an elaboration to what has already been read (presumably by everyone in the class… you know, considering it was assigned).

This trigger word occurred early in the reading, specifically on page 105. The term was initially used to describe the cultural significance of a structure, the bungalow, which was so commonplace that it was largely considered quite insignificant. This rant based on the word ‘fossil’ is two-fold. Peirce Lewis also describes the importance of vocabulary and preliminary research that greatly assists in discovering the true meaning behind these cultural landscapes. While he focuses mainly on alluvial fans and architectural terms, mine would be on the importance of how words can be used creatively in order to make the observer use a different approach in their analysis. In this case, ‘fossil’, when viewed as an analogy, can open up an even greater understanding of this seemingly unimportant structure and why any Historian would devote time and effort into its study.

In the archaeological world, a fossil is a window into the past. You get to see the biology, culture, and so much more in one imprint of anything from a footprint, to a leaf, or even remains. To connect this word with historical implications, something as modest as a suburban domicile can give a prepared inquisitor, a multi-layered view of the world that created said home. From looking at said bungalow in the same context as a fossil, the artistic movements of the period, needs and amenities of the suburban family, and any other culturally significant attribute could be discovered and would help paint a more accurate picture with far greater depth in a more expedient nature.

The reason I studied History as an undergrad, and gained employment in the field could be described through the word ‘fossil’. Every physical object in this world is a fossil – from my modest North End apartment, to the capitol building, or my friend’s rusty 1982 Volkswagen. If you approach every aspect of the cultural landscape that surrounds you with this mindset, an entirely new world will open up in front of you.

A few of these things I have read before, so I was prepared for what I was getting myself into; but a few things, admittedly, I was not prepared to get so frustrated over!
Naming J.B. Jackson as the ultimate in defining cultural landscape would be a correct statement, as long as we continue on from what he studied and not keep it as he left it, which is what I fear has happened in some cases.
I suppose things didn’t get too frustrating for me until chapter 12-“Normative Dimensions of Landscape” by Schein. From the beginning of the chapter the process of cultural identification via landscape becomes far too over-complicated and almost has more of a political feel to it than anything for me. Bringing the idea of economic and ecological history into defining a space, as well as admitting human activity plays a huge role, is completely agreeable. This all becomes too compicated, and continues to do so, when we are told that seeing landscapes through race, gender, or sexuality colored glasses is the true way to define a cultural landscape. (202)
The discussion of the red-lining in the 30s is a completely valid argument, as well as the African American population having to rely on self-governance and provide their own economic security within their community prior to the human rights movement. However, tying the idea of red-lining districts to the modern construction practices or new neighborhood areas is a stretch. Being angry about a bronze statue of a Confederate General in center sqare, or a part of the city keeping the name of “Cheapside” over the years, doesn’t necessarily mean Lexington is a city full of closet racists waiting for their chance to unleash it. These things all have historical significance. The final example from this chapter is the anger that seeps through the words when he writes about having no monument to ANY jockey in the park or former race track, I forget which (216). Either way, it states in the text there was no mention of any jockey, so why is the author only mad about the black guy not getting any recognition? Yes, Murphy does deserve a memorial. Why doesn’t anyone else?
That is my rant about that!
I fully agree with Jackson’s statement on page 86 about a landscape being an historical document; we will never be able to strictly define a cultural landscape because we will never be able to fully define a culture; everyone will see things differently.
The chapter on defining culture and landscape through streets and yards in L.A. forces you to do so of your own home, and I enjoyed reflecting on things I never thought about before landscape as a cultural aspect was brought to my attention. In all honesty, I wasn’t enthralled by Ecological Commons the first time, and it didn’t rattle my boots this time either. Medicine in the Mall felt like more of a lecture on preservation and development v. anti-development (much like Boise and its redevelopment issues, just sayin).
Soooo I guess that’s all I have to say!
Thanks for reading, fellow blog readers! Or just Leslie M-B, cause ya hafta. =)