Let's get Digital, Digital!

I have been putting off writing this blog post all semester.  I wish I could say it is because I was waiting to write a grand narrative summarizing my profound conclusions about the digital history course, but in reality I have been overwhelmed as to how to approach a topic that fundamentally challenges the way I think about history.

Before entering the course, I had an extremely limited comprehension of the digital history world.  The extent of my prior knowledge was confined to my familiarity with blogging and online journals, but even self-professed Luddites know their way around those mediums.  Throughout the course of the semester, there were many times when I felt so lost that not even a GPS could help me find my way out of the abyss of algorithms, arduinos and acronyms.  That being said, there were other times when I felt extremely enlightened, like I was rediscovering the historical discipline.

One of the more thought-provoking discussions in the class centered around the potentials and pitfalls of digital source materials – both those that are born digital and physical sources that have been digitized.  As digital historian Roy Rosenzweig suggested in 2003, we are moving from a culture of scarcity to one of abundance in terms in the amount of sources we have available. However, the advancement of technology seems to be a double edged sword in terms of historical applications, offering new opportunities but also exposing new problems.

As someone who is primarily interested in social history, I am fascinated by the growth of social media and its ramifications for the future of the discipline.  While there are many seemingly mundane things tweeted and posted, the pervasiveness of social media in our lives positions these seemingly irrelevant statements as insight into the vernacular culture of our time.   Historians of the future will replace the often painstaking task of deciphering handwritten diaries and letters to the equally painstaking task of sifting through thousands of webpages and emails filled with LOL, TTYL, LMAO and other unusual acronyms. In this sense, the historical methodology is not fundamentally changing, just shifting in accordance with the new mediums of the current culture.  What is changing however, is the amount of information being produced in the digital age. Our society's obsession with broadcasting itself is just one of the ways in which the historical record is becoming abundant.  With over 140 million tweets broadcast on Twitter every day and subsequently preserved in the Library of Congress archive, it is easy to see how such an abundance comes about.

The advantages of accessing a seemingly endless amount of information seem obvious.  If we look at the example of Twitter specifically, the ability to read people's observations and thoughts on a diversity of topics throughout space and time appears to be an historical gold mine.  Historians looking back at the present age will be able to analyze trends, compare tweets cross-culturally, and observe the real time reactions of individuals to world events.  The democratization of information through social media allows everyone to contribute to the production of the historical record, diminishing the power of the cultural elite to control the popular narratives of history.

The digital production of information only creates abundance because of the ability to easily store massive amounts of information. As Clay Shirky points out, we no longer have to question whether or not to save an item based on its value as an historical document as the availability of storage space allows almost any digitized material to enter into the historical record.  The rapidity with which information is created combined with immense digital storage capabilities gives the illusion that the historians of the future will be able to access sources on almost any topic imaginable.

However, that access may be just an illusion after all.  Our current infatuation with technology often causes us to ignore the downsides that can result from an overabundance of digital sources. From a practical standpoint, there is uncertainty about the stability of digital formats and a reliance on digital materials may paradoxically lead to a future scarcity of sources.  The pace at which technological advancement occurs means that born digital documents may be rendered unreadable or incompatible with newer software. A new form of scarcity may emerge, centered around technological obsolescence.

If we alternatively assume that all the digital material will be adequately preserved for perpetuity, a more interesting problem emerges.  As Rosenzweig notes, it is difficult to abstract generalized themes from primary sources on a particular topic when they number in the hundreds of thousands.  The ability to store virtually everything may prevent historians from writing effective history as they are burdened by their objective to analyze the totality of their subject.  It may be pertinent for historians to learn a few lessons from their brothers and sisters in the archival profession as they appraise all records to determine their value for future historical research.  While this inevitably leads to the loss of some information, it is better to have a manageable historical record than a complete record that limits its usability by its sheer abundance.

Completing the digital history course does not make me qualified to judge the state of the historical discipline, but I am confident it will adapt to the problems posed by the digital medium and also exploit its potentials.  The practice of history has never remained static and it will continue to evolve concurrently with society and culture.

Old-Fashioned Online Shopping

If you have ventured to the mall at any point in the last month or so, you are well aware that Christmas is fast approaching. While most people at this point have at least thought about the presents they are going to purchase for their loved ones and many have probably finished the monumental task, I have yet to give more than a passing thought to the gifts I will generously bestow.  Being a graduate student doesn't afford you a lot of time (or money) to devote to Project Christmas Shopping.  For these reasons, I am resorting to online shopping this year - but not just any kind of online shopping.  I was recently introduced to the online version of Eaton's Fall and Winter Catalogue from 1913-1914 and it is full of fabulous things that I know my family would enjoy.  That mink shawl with muskrat lining has my mom's name written all over it.

I know what you must be thinking -  that here is no way on earth I can afford fur. You're right, even at 1913 prices, it is a bit out of my range.  That is why I am making it simple and choosing from the books listed in the catalogue for everyone on this year's list. While the books are already a steal of a deal with most running around $0.25, I cheated the system and found them online for free.

Here are a few of the books I carefully and thoughtfully selected for my wonderful family.

1. Boy Scouts in a Submarine, or, Searching an Ocean Floor                    


When I saw this title, I knew it was perfect for my husband, an aspiring marine biologist. Since we are currently land locked, he can live vicariously through the Boy Scouts as they explore the ocean. I was sure this book would be difficult to find due to its relative obscurity. My first search on the Hathi Trust website didn't yield any results, but my subsequent search in the Internet Archive provided links to multiple versions, including a downloadable Kindle version for my e-book loving husband, as well as the original version digitized by Google.

Author: George Harvey Ralphson
Date: 1912

2. First Aid to the Injured

The Eaton's catalogue tells us that this manual should be in every home in case of an emergency or an accident.  Although my brother is a paramedic, there may come a point when his memory fails him and he is in need of a handy guidebook. To find this book, I stuck with the Internet Archive. Multiple results emerged when I typed in "First Aid to the Injured" as it was apparently a popular title for first aid manuals from the early twentieth century. Although this was the first result to be listed, I added "St. John Ambulance" to the search term and performed another search to ensure I had located the right book.

Author: St. John Ambulance Association
Date: c. 1908


3. Maternity Without Suffering

My sister-in-law is very pregnant and most likely experiencing mixed emotions about the pending process of child birth. Fortunately, this book promises to gently relieve suffering before, during, and after child birth. If I knew it only took a book to accomplish this, I wouldn't have waited until Christmas to pass along this treasure.  I decided to perform a simple Google search to try and locate this book, but the first result just sent me directly back to the Internet Archive website where the book is available in multiple formats.

Author: Dr. Emma Frances Drake
Date: 1902



4. With Wolfe in Canada
 
In his quest to become a bonafide French teacher, my brother is currently studying French in Trois-Rivieres.  As such, it is my duty as an historian and sister to ensure that he has adequate knowledge of Quebec history. Although it is debatable whether or not a book written in the late nineteenth century will provide an accurate description of Wolfe's endeavours in Quebec, I am going to say it's better than nothing.  This book was located quite easily through Project Gutenberg and is also available through OpenLibrary.org.  While I originally intended to find my brother a copy of LaRousse's New French English dictionary, searches on multiple sites did not yield any results. I was not particularly surprised by this, as the necessity and desire for outdated language dictionaries is probably minimal. Joyeux Noel, mon frere!

Author: George Alfred Henty 
Date: 1894

5. Radford's Practical Barn Plans

My grandfather was a farmer for many years, and like most farmers, had a necessity for well-constructed barns.  His farm had quite a few barns of various shapes and sizes that my brothers and I always enjoyed exploring. Being a good Dutchman, I am certain my grandfather would appreciate this book's promise to save you money by teaching you how to build a barn in an economic fashion.  The Internet Archive has multiple links to the full-text version of this book, but neither Project Gutenberg or Google books offer full-text barn plans.

Author: William A. Radford
Date: 1907



6.  The New Galt Cookbook

According to the Eaton's catalogue, this is one of the most popular cookbooks of all time. Since my sister-in-law is an avid cook and is always experimenting with new recipes and ingredients, I thought she might enjoy trying some great old-fashioned meals. In giving her this gift, I fully expect to be invited over for dinner.  To find this gem of a book, I performed a simple google search and was surprised to find a digitized version on the Library and Archives Canada (LAC) website.  In a section entitled Bon Appetit: A Celebration of Canadian Cookbooks, LAC allows you to search for recipes in two different cookbooks from the nineteenth century, one of which is the New Galt Cookbook.

Author: Margaret Taylor and Frances McNaught
Date: 1898


So with a few simple clicks, my Christmas shopping is complete!  As I walked through the proverbial aisles searching for these books, I was pleasantly surprised at the wide variety of full-text books available  online.  At times, I purposefully sought out books that I thought would be far too obscure to warrant digitization, but time and time again, they were readily available.  Not only were most books easily accessible, but they were also offered in multiple formats.  It was interesting to find so many books available for download on the Kindle, perhaps reflecting the growing popularization of the e-book.
Of the different online repositories, the Internet Archive seems to offer the best selection and it will likely be my first choice for future searches.  I am certain I will be consulting both the Eaton's catalogue and the Internet Archive again soon - after all, the new year will bring many family birthdays.

Movember Moustaches - Part 4

This blog is the fourth and final installment of my Movember Moustaches series featuring historical moustaches to coincide with the Movember campaign to raise money for prostate cancer. To find more about Movember, please click here. To donate to a specific 'stache, check out the River Riders Team.


The end of November has arrived and soon the women of the world will breathe a collective sigh of relief as their loved ones abandon their moustache experiments.  However, thankfully for you, there is still time to explore one last magnificent moustache entrenched in the annals of history. Without further ado, I present to you His Imperial and Royal Highness Archduke Franz Ferdinand.

Besides his impeccably groomed moustache, the archduke is perhaps best known for dying.  Sad, but true. His assassination in 1914 was the catalyst that moved the world toward war, and although we all know (or should know) the causes of war were diverse, it is much easier just to blame it on His Royal Highness falling victim to Gavrilo Princip's gun.

While we have all learned about Franz Ferdinand's death, few of us learn about his life. Before the Archduke's unexpected death, he spent some time traveling - hunting kangaroos and emus in Australia and taking a sailing trip from Japan to Vancouver.

The Archduke was also a bit of a romantic. After falling in love with a non-royal, the lovestruck Franz  refused to follow the marriage rules of the Imperial House of Hapsburg which required a royal spouse to be a member of a reigning or formerly reigning European dynasty. It took no less than the petitions of Pope Leo XIII, Tsar Nicholas II of Russia, and Emperor Wilhelm II of Germany to convince Austrian Emperor Franz Joseph to let the Archduke marry Sophie Chotek. Talk about commitment.  Sadly, Sophie was assassinated along with her husband as they rode in their car throughout the streets of Sarajevo.

So there you have it, the man behind the moustache. Until next November, I urge you to keep your eye out for worthy Movember Moustaches throughout the historical record. No moustache is too big or too obscure to tackle.  Requests/suggestions are welcome - and no, Tom Selleck doesn't count, even though he does have a fearsome stache.

 

Movember Moustaches - Part 3

This blog is the third installment of my Movember Moustaches series featuring historical moustaches to coincide with the Movember campaign to raise money for prostate cancer. To find more about Movember, please click here.

This week I introduce you to the Walrus Moustache. This moustache is so impressive, it even warrants its own Wikipedia page.   While you may have never heard of this facial wonder, you have undoubtedly seen it.  Look no further than Mr. Friedrich Nietzsche.

I was initially hesitant to give Nietzsche attention in the privileged Movember Moustache hall of fame due to my intense dislike for all things philosophy and my difficulties with spelling his name, but in the end, the moustache won.

Nietzsche is best known for his philosophical work in existentialism, nihilism and postmodernism and bearing a resemblance to this walrus. He was a particularly bright fellow that showed an abundance of potential. At only 24 years of age, he was named a professor of classical philology at the University of Basel despite lacking his doctorate or any teaching credentials. I won't mention this to all the PhD graduates currently looking for jobs. In order to take up the teaching position in Basel, Nietzsche gave up his Prussian citizenship, after which he remained stateless for the rest of his life. As it turns out, his life didn't end up being that long. Nietzsche died in 1900 at the age of 55 after being plagued by mental illness, strokes and pneumonia. 

During my extensive research for this blog, I read up on Nietzsche's philosophical perspectives, but I was much too distracted by his moustache to retain any information. I would apologize, but were you really expecting philosophy from a blog about moustaches?

The Best Thing since Sliced Bread

This blog is going to be the best thing since sliced bread.

Okay, well even if you don't agree with my narcissistic proclamations, at least this blog is about sliced bread.  You may not marvel at the existence of sliced bread as you pop those squares of goodness into the toaster each morning, but there was, believe or not, a time when people bought their bread....unsliced! (It was during this time people also had to walk uphill both ways to school in snowstorms).

So now you are probably wondering how those labour inducing unsliced loaves transformed into the wonderful pre-sliced bundles we have come to expect from the good people at Wonderbread and Dempsters. Or you may be hungry.

I can't solve any hunger issues but I can give you a variety of online resources to satisfy your pangs of curiosity.


1. Wikipedia - Sliced Bread
If you don't know the first thing about sliced bread, Wikipedia is a great place to start your research.  That's right - go ahead and use the oft-scorned Wikipedia. The site provides an article concisely summarizing the origins and history of sliced bread, including a note on the 1943 American ban of sliced bread. The Wikipedia platform is not conducive to in-depth analysis, but it is an ideal source for gaining a general understanding of the topic and building a foundation for further research. Now don't expect this article to actually claim that sliced bread is indeed the greatest thing - the crowds of Wikipedia enthusiasts are a pretty neutral bunch and are quite diligent in preventing outlandish statements.  So ignore those teachers and professors who lament Wikipedia's lack of academic integrity - rebel and research!

2. Modern Mechanix - Slicing Bread by Machinery, November 1929
The rebellious historian in me just told you to use Wikipedia but now my proper historian is coming out to tell you to use this primary source to check out what people were saying about sliced bread when it was the newest thing in town.  Modern Mechanix was an early American magazine and many of its articles have been digitized and placed online for perusal at the blog modernmechanix.com.  Reading this article will give you a sense of the excitement over the innovative bread slicing technology and a look at how the machinery was used to slice loaves.  This source also clearly lays out exactly who is supposed to be excited about the prospect of sliced bread. 

3. MIT Inventor of the Week - Otto Rohwedder
In order to truly understand the sliced bread phenomenon, it is necessary to know the man behind the machine, Mr. Otto Rohwedder. A detailed summary of Rohwedder's life and work is showcased on the Lemuslon-MIT website as part of its Inventor of the Week feature (the Lemuslon-MIT program is dedicated to honoring individuals whose inventions have improved our lives). It is apparent from this source that Rohwedder committed a lot of time and energy to designing and developing his bread slicing technology and is rightly called "the father of sliced bread."

4. Home of Sliced Bread - Chillicothe, Missouri
This website is a one-stop shop for everything and anything related to sliced bread.  The enthusiastic residents of small town Chillicothe and its Sliced Bread Committee made this website as an homage to sliced bread while also attempting to capitalize on its status as the birthplace of the product.  In the midst of the sliced bread T-shirts, aprons, postcards and ornaments, this site really does have some great information compiled by Chillicothe's bread-loving citizens. In addition to the general history of sliced bread, the website offers a variety of news articles relating to sliced bread, all of Rohwedder's patent information (including a pdf of the original patent), as well as photographs of the earliest bread slicing machines and of Otto Rohwedder himself.  I have a hunch that the people of Chillicothe really do think sliced bread is the greatest invention and they wouldn't be ashamed to admit it.

So there you have it - everything you need to begin your quest for sliced bread knowledge. Forget Google - if you really want to "rise" up to the challenge and "cut" through the information to have a "measure" of success, just use this blog.  After all, it is the best thing since sliced bread. Even with the terrible puns.

Movember Moustaches - Part 2

This blog is the second installment of my Movember Moustaches series featuring historical moustaches to coincide with the Movember campaign to raise money for prostate cancer. To find more about Movember, please click here.

You may not ever meet a man more in love with his moustache than Salvador Dali. It is reported that the Spanish artist was once carrying around a silver bell, and when asked why he had the bell, he responded “I carry it and I ring it so people will see my moustaches.” Note that he said moustaches which is not at all a misnomer if you take a look at the pictures below. While Dali is primarily known as a surrealist painter, I would like to add moustache master to his list of artistic accomplishments.

As you may infer from his distinctive moustache choice (and crazy eyes!), Dali was a tad bit eccentric. At an early age, Dali's parents told him that he was a reincarnation of his dead brother - not the most stable foundation for establishing your self-understanding.

As if his meticulously manicured moustache didn't attract enough attention, Dali had his own unique fashion sense. He often walked around in a long cape with a walking stick at his side and at one party thrown in his honour, he arrived wearing a glass case on his chest containing a brassiere. On another occasion, he arrived to deliver a lecture wearing a diving suit adorned with a jeweled dagger, with a pool cue in his hand, and two Russian wolfhounds by his side. Now that would have been an exciting lecture.  Professors, please take note.

At one point, Dali decided that he needed a pet to compliment his flamboyant personality. Naturally, he chose an ocelot. Babou the ocelot became Dali's favourite companion, even accompanying him into restaurants and on trips.

Despite his oddities, Dali was a superb artist, challenging norms and inspiring future generations of artists.  The legacy of his moustache is almost as great as that of his artistic output, and yet this generation does not seem to find inspiration in his follicle mastery.   The time to do so is now, men of Movember!

Each morning when I awake, I experience again a supreme pleasure - that of being Salvador Dali.

- Salvador Dali

Movember Moustaches - Part 1

While the concept of growing moustaches in November (or Movember) to raise awareness for prostate cancer is a recent phenomenon, moustaches themselves have a long history.  Throughout November, I will be featuring a variety of historical moustaches that would undoubtedly win any Movember contest.  To learn more about the Movember movement, click here.

The first historical Movember candidate is none other than Ambrose Burnside, a Union general in the American Civil War whom we can thank for giving us the word "sideburn." He was obviously blessed with the ability to grow voluminous amounts of hair on the side of his face and as a result, his name was used to label the very distinctive style.  While General Burnside is known more for his sideburns  than his moustache, the argument could be made that they are in fact one and the same.

Unfortunately for Burnside, his contribution to society is limited to his facial hair. It is quite possible that he focused too much of his attention on grooming his follicles and not quite enough on leading the army. His strategy at the battle of Fredericksburg in 1862 went a little something like this:

Soldier: Great job on taking over the town General! We sure showed those Confederate scoundrels whose boss.

Burnside: Thanks soldier, but I would really love to give those southerners another kick in the pants. Why don't we go chase them as they retreat up that hill?

Soldier: Great idea! I am sure they won't be able to mow us down in their advantageous position on top of the hill. It is quite unlikely that waves of Confederates will rush down the hill and decimate our army.

Burnside's brilliant strategy led to a massive defeat for his army, but maybe it was all for the best. We wouldn't want his military accomplishments outshining his contribution as a style icon.


 This blog originally appeared on March 4, 2009 on my other blog lvanderberg.blogspot.com.

Adventures in HTML-Land

Saturday
Today I feel like a genius.  I am currently working my way through theW3 Schools HTML Tutorial  and this being my first foray into the world of HTML, I am finding it quite thrilling to be able to tell my computer what to do.  I just made my name appear as a heading in bold, italicized text which is when I said aloud to myself "Wow! I did it!" I know that this doesn't suddenly make me the Albert Einstein of HTML, but this process of learning the very basics of computer language is slowly subverting the relationship between me and my computer.  I have always falsely perceived my computer as a brilliant, omniscient machine, but the more I learn, the more I understand it to be what it is - a tool of human intelligence. I agree with Fred Gibbs when he writes in his blog that "Even the tiniest ability to make a computer do what one wants rather than only what software allows is tremendously empowering."

Sunday
My illusions of grandeur momentarily faded away today. As I continued to read through the tutorial and practice different things, I felt increasingly helpless due to my inability to remember all the different rules. Trying to remember where to put quotation marks, colons, semi-colons and closing tags was a bit overwhelming and my "Aha!" moment of yesterday never came. But then, like a true historian, I realized it was pointless to try and retain all this information when I will always be able to look it up.  So I persevered onward and finished the tutorial, hoping to feel empowered once again. At this point, I have started to mark-up my own page and I am quite pleased with the results thus far.  I have successfully added some lines (fancy!), headers, underlined text, an unordered list, a link and....drum roll please....some pretty colours! Although my HTML experience today didn't start well, I am once again feeling comfortable and confident to continue with my HTML adventure. Onwards and upwards from here!

Monday
Today I finished marking up my very own page!  I had some difficulties toward the end with adding images to the page, but eventually made it work with a little help from someone much wiser than myself. The finished product is pretty simple and definitely won't take your breath away, but I am stepping away from it with a great sense of accomplishment. This exercise only touches the surface of what can be accomplished with HTML and I am eager to expand my knowledge further. Being able to comprehend what was previously a foreign language, even in the most basic sense, has made technology and computers feel more accessible.  I don't know if I ever will classify myself as a digital humanist, but gaining new skills in the technological realm equips and motivates me to explore the diversity of the digital world.

Risk according to Frank Zappa

There is a magnet on my fridge that says "Without deviation from the norm, progress is not possible." Good ol' Frank Zappa. I wish I could say I bought that magnet to reflect my personal philosophy in life, but really, it just happened to be left behind when I moved into my first house. Deviating from the norm often requires risk and when risk is involved, I tend to run in the opposite direction.

When the discussion in our Digital History class turned to taking risks in grad school, I stopped to consider whether or not being in the Public History program involved any risk.  My initial thought was no. It is relatively safe to go into a program that focuses on giving you knowledge and hands on experience for multiple career paths. The collaborative nature of the program also means that our entire group will be accountable for any risk or experimentation that is a part of our final project. Students in the traditional history graduate programs do not have the same opportunity to share the burden or success of their risks, nor do their programs encourage diverse outcomes in terms of post-graduate opportunities. So while the public history program deviates from traditional historical scholarship, I would argue that it is initially a less risky path to take.

This is not to say that being a public historian does not provide the occasion for risk.  After we graduate, many of us within the public history program hope to move onto careers within the heritage sector.  The opportunities awaiting us are unknown, but within them is our chance to take a risk.  Whether we are creating programs, developing interpretive plans or curating exhibits, we will be faced with the choice between sticking with what is familiar or pushing the boundary of what has previously been achieved.   The risk we avoid in graduate school awaits us in our careers and we must be prepared to undertake the less traveled path in order to progress.  That of course is easier said than done.  Risk is not the natural course of action for many of us, nor is it always supported by institutions or colleagues.  I guess otherwise it wouldn't be called a risk.

The class discussion forced me to question my own ability to pursue risk and innovation in my work.  Right now, I have to admit that I have a tendency toward what is safe, fearing the potential of failure and the uncertainty of what lies beyond the broadened horizon.  For that reason, I have a feeling Mr. Zappa's words will hang on my fridge for a long time, serving as a reminder of the possibilities of progress when I am tempted to run toward the status quo.

Algorithmic Culture

It is probably not a surprise to to you that I have a severe case of technological ineptitude. I am an aspiring historian after all - how much do I really need to know about the strange universe called the world wide web?  Well, it turns out, I need to know a lot. My skills in the realm of twitter, facebook and blogging won't get me very far in this digital age of academics. The first two books for my Digital History course -Blown to Bits and Web Dragons - made that fact abundantly clear.

Despite my lack of comprehension of all the techno-speak in the two books, it was quite fascinating to learn about the systems and culture guiding the development of the Internet.  As a tool I use each and everyday, it is surprising how much trust I place in a technology that I barely understand.  The most interesting concept arising from the two books is the discussion of the lack of neutrality and subjectivity within search engines.  Although the development of the Internet has allowed for the democratization of information, our access to that information is not as democratic as one might assume.  Because technology is incapable of human reasoning, search engines rely on complex algorithms to answer our questions and we in turn place our trust in them as an authority for our source of knowledge.

These are concepts I can't quite wrap my head around - but the good news is, I found someone who can discuss the topic more eloquently than myself.  Click the link below to listen to a discussion with Ted Striphas from Indiana University as he talks to CBC radio about algorithmic culture and "the social implications of leaving discovery and serendipity, the very cornerstones of culture, to complex math."

Algorithmic Culture on CBC Radio - Spark

Who Says Field Trips are for Kids?

Fridays were made for field trips.  Graduate school generally requires more field work rather than field trips, but then again, public history isn't your regular graduate program.  Our public history group has been tasked with developing an i-phone app tracing the retreat of General Proctor and Tecumseh up the Thames River during the war of 1812, coinciding with the bicentennial of the war next year. As an introduction to this project, we spent the day visiting important sites along the Tecumseh Parkway - all the way from Amherstburg to Thamesville.

A few highlights:

 Fort Malden National Historical Site of Canada

St.John's Church at corner of Brock St. and Sandwich St. in Sandwich, ON

Duff-Baby House in Sandwich, ON

St.Peter's Church - Tilbury, ON

As a foreigner (from Alberta), my knowledge of the war of 1812 and this region is...well...severely lacking. My synopsis of the war before embarking on this project would have gone something like this:

The British and First Nations fought the Americans. 

Laura Secord told warned someone the Americans were going to attack.

The White House was burned.

I think the British won. Go Canada!

Embarrassing, I know.  While today was really just a whirlwind tour short on detailed explanations, I was still able to come away with a tangible sense of the scope and geography of the British retreat and feel more equipped to tackle this project.  

Physically tracing the route the soldiers took all those years ago also highlighted the important benefits of relating history to physical space.  A text can inform me of the events of the war of 1812, but taking that knowledge into a perceptible environment makes history palpable in a way that cannot be achieved through mere study. The experience of stepping into a house where Tecumseh ate dinner, standing in a field where soldiers camped and walking onto a former battlefield can never be understood without engaging with the physical space.  Historical understanding is significantly enhanced through spatial relations.  This may seem like an obvious concept, but it is one I did not reflect upon until I followed the route of the 1812 retreat for myself and connected with the history at an organic level.

It is with this in mind that I am going to approach the creation of the i-phone app.  If we can use the technology to allow its users to imagine the past through an immersion in their environment, I think we will have been successful.

 

The Art of Interpretation

Today I had the immense pleasure of visiting Banting House National Historic Site with my Public History class.  My knowledge of Sir Frederick Banting was quite limited before going to the museum - besides of course the whole inventing insulin thing.  Banting proved himself to be a fascinating character on multiple levels - I mean who tries to turn down the Nobel Prize and a knighthood and decides to experiment with mustard gas on himself?

                                                                        The esteemed Sir Frederick Banting

While on the tour however, I was struck most not by the content of the museum, but the artful interpretation that made that information so easy to absorb and dissect.  The curator of the museum, Grant Maltman, did an exceptional job relaying the story of Dr. Banting as well as his own passion for his work.  As someone who has never worked as an interpreter, his tour really emphasized the necessity of storytelling in making history readily accessible to the public.  It's not that information cannot be obtained from text panels, photographs and multimedia - many museum visitors expect to glean their knowledge from those sources.  Successfully communicating with the museum audience through those forms requires great skill- but it is the interpreter that has the potential to bring history off the page and engage the public in a way that an inert medium can never do. The human interaction  makes the history more tangible and relatable.  Successfully learning the art of interpretation - and yes I do believe it is an art - is not only an asset, but a necessary aspect of being an effective public historian. 

Grant Maltman inspired me today.  His passion for history and his skillful crafting of Frederick Banting's narrative not only showed me what it takes to be an effective public historian, but also reaffirmed my love for this discipline.

"We cannot think without language, we cannot process experience without story." 

Christina Baldwin