Steven Dubin’s, Displays of Power described some of the most significant cases in contested interpretation of museum exhibitions. Dubin, explores the powerful motives behind these ‘museum battles’ and presents politicians, museum administrators, cultural groups and even, maybe even especially, the media as the players. In addition, he highlights the positivity of these seemingly negative situations.
Behind these ‘battles’, whether it be to promote their status, bring recognition to or to redirect attention from other politically charged issues, someone or group stood to benefit from the controversies that ensued. For example in Gaelic Gotham, Marion Casey’s fight for her status as curator became infused into the controversy. In addition, Mayor Giulini’s role was at the forefront of the Sensation controversy most likely to divert attention from himself. The media stood to gain financially in all of these issues.
The media proved to be an instrumental tool, and in the case of Sensation, according to Dubin’s interpretation, the instigator. He accurately identifies that “the group that is the most mobilized, the most vocal and often the first to jump into the fray sets the tenor and dictates the terms of the debate.” (249) As recognized in the Harlem on My Mind case, groups learned how to utilize the media to act as their voice. Ironically, the media was also identified as “stirring the pot.” (49) Similarly, in the Sensation case, Dubin argues that a news reporter planted the seed in key players minds that helped to ‘stir up’ some controversy.
Even though these conflicts over perspective and interpretation were very costly, both financially and emotionally to the parties involved, Dubin illustrated the healthy aspects these controversies have in a democratic society. He argues that “culture—and the struggles over it—can reveal us at our most unflattering,” however, “it is important to pay attention to such clashes.” The activists bring awareness to the museum communities that there is more than one interpretation. The ‘battle’ forces the parties to assert their perspectives and in the end come to resolution.
I thought Dubin did a great job of presenting all sides of these cases about power. In the end, the book provides an excellent reference for museum professionals getting ready to host potentially controversial exhibitions.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Week 3
A friend has always said to me “A truth is always a truth.” The statement I think corresponds to Fred Shuttlesworth’s quote and title of Chapter 2 that “If you don’t tell it like it was, it can never be as it ought to be.”(33) James Horton and Lois Horton’s book, Slavery and Public History: The Tough Stuff of American Memory, is a compelling compilation of essays that exemplify how both academic and professional historians worked together on public history sites to bring out the truth in the history of slavery that has been overlooked in the past.
Although there are many, two specific examples in particular stood out that illustrate the ‘techniques and strategies’ that J. Horton claims are necessary for ‘historians and historical interpreters’ to use ‘for addressing race and slavery.’(53) Gary Nash’s essay surrounding the controversy with the President’s House at the Liberty Bell site and Dwight Pithcaithley’s essay about NPS Civil War battlegrounds both faced considerable resistance, however, the authors’ involvement and commitment to presenting the truth prevailed. Ironically, these two historians together were instrumental in the case of the President’s House.
The President’s House controversy is an excellent example of the collaboration between historians and interpreters in revising the history of slavery in a public site. Nash demonstrated the positive use of media in not only gathering public opinion, but also allowing the public’s voice to be heard. This gave administration on the Liberty Bell project the opportunity to make the necessary revisions, despite the fact that they were ‘out of time and money.’(80) Pithcaithley’s role as chief historian for the NPS also provided an instrumental role in pushing the INHP’s interpretative team to meet the NPS’s new mission for presenting the truth about America’s historical sites.
Another good example is the case of the NPS Civil War battlegrounds. This instance, however, models the process of taking on the revisionist task when the public is not in support of change and when collective memory becomes a problem. The Sons of the Confederacy provided the most resistance to Pitcaithley because they felt the need to uphold the version of the Civil War that they remembered or wanted remembered. Memory will always be valuable in history, but when memory distorts historical truths then the obligation rests on the academy to correct it.
This obligation, identified throughout the Horton book, presents its own controversy. While I feel motivated as a historian to present the truth and not to back down to resistance, I also feel compelled to ask, ‘How are public historians in smaller institutions, dealing with lower-profile exhibits supposed to address such contested topics when administration or trustees above them dictate otherwise? We will not always be able to employ activists like Gary Nash to take on resistance. Therefore, I think the strengths of this book rest in the fact that as historians, we must begin to push discussions; as public historians, we must begin to delve deeper into our research to present the truth, no matter how difficult it is even if the result is not what we intended.
Although there are many, two specific examples in particular stood out that illustrate the ‘techniques and strategies’ that J. Horton claims are necessary for ‘historians and historical interpreters’ to use ‘for addressing race and slavery.’(53) Gary Nash’s essay surrounding the controversy with the President’s House at the Liberty Bell site and Dwight Pithcaithley’s essay about NPS Civil War battlegrounds both faced considerable resistance, however, the authors’ involvement and commitment to presenting the truth prevailed. Ironically, these two historians together were instrumental in the case of the President’s House.
The President’s House controversy is an excellent example of the collaboration between historians and interpreters in revising the history of slavery in a public site. Nash demonstrated the positive use of media in not only gathering public opinion, but also allowing the public’s voice to be heard. This gave administration on the Liberty Bell project the opportunity to make the necessary revisions, despite the fact that they were ‘out of time and money.’(80) Pithcaithley’s role as chief historian for the NPS also provided an instrumental role in pushing the INHP’s interpretative team to meet the NPS’s new mission for presenting the truth about America’s historical sites.
Another good example is the case of the NPS Civil War battlegrounds. This instance, however, models the process of taking on the revisionist task when the public is not in support of change and when collective memory becomes a problem. The Sons of the Confederacy provided the most resistance to Pitcaithley because they felt the need to uphold the version of the Civil War that they remembered or wanted remembered. Memory will always be valuable in history, but when memory distorts historical truths then the obligation rests on the academy to correct it.
This obligation, identified throughout the Horton book, presents its own controversy. While I feel motivated as a historian to present the truth and not to back down to resistance, I also feel compelled to ask, ‘How are public historians in smaller institutions, dealing with lower-profile exhibits supposed to address such contested topics when administration or trustees above them dictate otherwise? We will not always be able to employ activists like Gary Nash to take on resistance. Therefore, I think the strengths of this book rest in the fact that as historians, we must begin to push discussions; as public historians, we must begin to delve deeper into our research to present the truth, no matter how difficult it is even if the result is not what we intended.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Week 2
In Defining Memory, Amy Levin presents essays that reveal the specialized importance of smaller, ‘local’ museums. She highlights that they provide a variation from the large-scale, high profile institutions, such as the Smithsonian or the Met, without placing a higher value on one type of museum. Her book gives the smaller museums a presence that the AAM does not recognize.
Levin argues that ‘local’ museums assert their agency through their interpretations and educational approaches. She uses Elizabeth Vance’s ideas about Shwab and Huebner’s Curriculum Theories to discuss how these institutions represent the ‘commonplace’ of education in America. In addition, she also recognizes the importance personal memory has and how it influences learning.
In David Kyvig’s Foreword, he points out that “a contrary view, at once older and more recent, is that anyone who visits a museum should be free to examine the full range of objects preserved there and make whatever connections and interpretations they wish. (4)” This statement illustrates how no individual museum staff member or specifically, educator, can control what a visitor takes away from their experience. Therefore, Levin’s compilation of case studies provides a variety of approaches, both conventional and non-conventional.
The history these institutions provide is intensely specific and usually in abundance, as in the cases of the Geneva History Center and the Daughters of the Utah Pioneers Museum. On the one hand, at the Geneva History Center, Levin points out that the staff has taken considerable care to display and explain the objects they have. This is a stark contrast to the approach staff members at the Daughters of the Utah Pioneers Museum took, where they have chosen to stick with older methods of displaying everything with little or no explanation. In either case, however, the public still has the opportunity of making their own interpretations.
Levin also describes how nostalgia and what people expect to find in museums play an important part in how museum educators approach learning in their institutions. She acknowledges that “nostalgia…affects the knowledge imparted by the museums.(93)” As was the case with CowTown, where what was represented was not a historical truth, however, it still managed to conjure up public memory.
Therefore, Levin’s book illustrates that memory is an important part of public history. As was mentioned last week, it is the public’s personal memories that help them relate to a museum and the objects contained in them or the motivating factor in visiting an archive for genealogical research. However, because memories are not physical documents, the book presents the continuing controversy that memories do not hold the same weight as history or historical documents. If public memory is so important, but still disregarded in the professional arena, what options are left for museum professionals? The answer to this is why I think Levin wrote this book. To provide museum professionals with a guide as to what CAN work, not to necessarily provide a one-size-fits all guide to what does work.
Levin argues that ‘local’ museums assert their agency through their interpretations and educational approaches. She uses Elizabeth Vance’s ideas about Shwab and Huebner’s Curriculum Theories to discuss how these institutions represent the ‘commonplace’ of education in America. In addition, she also recognizes the importance personal memory has and how it influences learning.
In David Kyvig’s Foreword, he points out that “a contrary view, at once older and more recent, is that anyone who visits a museum should be free to examine the full range of objects preserved there and make whatever connections and interpretations they wish. (4)” This statement illustrates how no individual museum staff member or specifically, educator, can control what a visitor takes away from their experience. Therefore, Levin’s compilation of case studies provides a variety of approaches, both conventional and non-conventional.
The history these institutions provide is intensely specific and usually in abundance, as in the cases of the Geneva History Center and the Daughters of the Utah Pioneers Museum. On the one hand, at the Geneva History Center, Levin points out that the staff has taken considerable care to display and explain the objects they have. This is a stark contrast to the approach staff members at the Daughters of the Utah Pioneers Museum took, where they have chosen to stick with older methods of displaying everything with little or no explanation. In either case, however, the public still has the opportunity of making their own interpretations.
Levin also describes how nostalgia and what people expect to find in museums play an important part in how museum educators approach learning in their institutions. She acknowledges that “nostalgia…affects the knowledge imparted by the museums.(93)” As was the case with CowTown, where what was represented was not a historical truth, however, it still managed to conjure up public memory.
Therefore, Levin’s book illustrates that memory is an important part of public history. As was mentioned last week, it is the public’s personal memories that help them relate to a museum and the objects contained in them or the motivating factor in visiting an archive for genealogical research. However, because memories are not physical documents, the book presents the continuing controversy that memories do not hold the same weight as history or historical documents. If public memory is so important, but still disregarded in the professional arena, what options are left for museum professionals? The answer to this is why I think Levin wrote this book. To provide museum professionals with a guide as to what CAN work, not to necessarily provide a one-size-fits all guide to what does work.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
A ‘fluid’ definition of public history
It is not easy to form a definition for public history. This week’s readings prove that there are different views about public history, but none of them offers a concrete definition. The article on the National Council for Public History (NCPH) website, aptly labeled “What is Public History?” attempts to resolve the issue, however, concludes with nothing definitive. Corbett and Miller’s article, “A Shared Inquiry into Shared Inquiry” describes the skills necessary for a public historian, but also does not provide a formal definition. Furthermore, the chapter from Rosenzweig and Thelen’s, The Presence of the Past, offers information about what the public views as history, but again, no definition. Therefore, it is necessary to address that any definition of public history needs to be as adaptable as the field itself.
Appropriately, the NCPH article provides the most usable definition for public history describing it as “a movement, methodology, and approach that promotes the collaborative study and practice of history; its practitioners embrace a mission to make their special insights accessible and useful to the public” (http://www.ncph.org/WhatisPublicHistory/tabid/282/language/en-US/Default.aspx). In other words, public historians need to provide the necessary access, be skilled historians, as well as possess interpersonal skills to interact with the public. In Corbett and Miller’s commentary to the NCPH, they disagreed with the given descriptions of public history as a movement and approach. If public history is not a movement or an approach then, is it a method? Greg Smoak, Associate Professor of History at Colorado State University, suggested that public history is in fact not just one method, but several actually used to engage the public.
The public is the topic of both Corbett and Millers article and Rosenzweig and Thelen’s chapter. While the authors of both readings describe the public’s role differently, what is clear is that not only do public historians have something to share with the public, but also the public has a role in returning the past to the professionals. Public historians study, document, collect, interpret, present and preserve the public’s history. While doing this though, they must interact and engage with the public in ways that other historians do not.
Appropriately, the NCPH article provides the most usable definition for public history describing it as “a movement, methodology, and approach that promotes the collaborative study and practice of history; its practitioners embrace a mission to make their special insights accessible and useful to the public” (http://www.ncph.org/WhatisPublicHistory/tabid/282/language/en-US/Default.aspx). In other words, public historians need to provide the necessary access, be skilled historians, as well as possess interpersonal skills to interact with the public. In Corbett and Miller’s commentary to the NCPH, they disagreed with the given descriptions of public history as a movement and approach. If public history is not a movement or an approach then, is it a method? Greg Smoak, Associate Professor of History at Colorado State University, suggested that public history is in fact not just one method, but several actually used to engage the public.
The public is the topic of both Corbett and Millers article and Rosenzweig and Thelen’s chapter. While the authors of both readings describe the public’s role differently, what is clear is that not only do public historians have something to share with the public, but also the public has a role in returning the past to the professionals. Public historians study, document, collect, interpret, present and preserve the public’s history. While doing this though, they must interact and engage with the public in ways that other historians do not.
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