ON LESSONS LEARNED

Yesterday our class presented our year long exhibit on William Harvey’s discovery of the circulatory system. After 2 hours of visitors, I learned a few lessons about visitors to museum exhibits. For one, they are reluctant to ‘dive in’ and attempt interactivity. Usually, they hang back and analyze the exhibit to try and deduce what must be accomplished, and step forward once they have been invited to interact. Visitors are, however, eager to engage in the exhibit once they understand how it works. This is one of the problems with current museums featuring fully interactive exhibits – the explanation is usually in text form, while visitors much prefer to engage with a person who can use verbal communication to describe, in many ways, how the exhibit works, and what it attempts to teach the visitor.

Another interesting observation I made was the behaviour of visitors upon entering the exhibit. Many museum researchers have concluded that visitors like moving to their right upon entering a room. In my experience yesterday, visitors moved to whichever side of the room that had the most space. We enjoy our personal space, and it is apparent that museum visitors avoid high traffic areas on purpose.

The order of presentation also appears important to visitors. At the start, I explained Harvey’s mechanical philosophy, then proceeded to discuss how the exhibit functioned. Frequently I noticed the visitor level of interest begin to wane; they just wanted to touch the buttons! Ultimately I made the appropriate adjustment, detailing how the exhibit worked first, and then informing them of Harvey’s philosophy and its relation to the exhibit.

ON PUBLIC LANDSCAPES

Public landscapes are an artificial construct. As humans, we have a need to categorize and make order of anything we come upon. This is especially true in terms of public spaces, and especially those spaces considered ‘natural’. But what is ‘nature’? How do we return a landscape to its original splendour? Obviously this question has its inherent assumptions – our perception of its origins probably includes trees, fields, wild animals, etc... If we sidestep this assumption for a moment, we realize that there is no way to identify exactly what these origins are since we cannot interpret them through anything other than human eyes. Nature does not actually become nature until we see it. Furthermore, merely the mention of the word ‘nature’ causes our brains to focus on what our own interpretation of nature should be. Building on this, these interpretations will differ greatly from person to person, especially if we compare one person has been confined to an urban atmosphere their whole life to someone who has spent their life living on farm.

Restoring landscapes can be considered an interventionist type of public history. Usually the goal is to return the landscape to a point in time that has been identified. This time period is identified by locals and local historians alike, and highlighted as a means of stimulating community pride or drawing in tourists. But, as previously mentioned, interpreting this landscape through a modern lens reduces the authenticity. In essence, even though the landscape may be uninspiring, I do not think it merits intervention which would undoubtedly ruin other historical aspects of the landscape which have not been chosen for renaissance. As David Glassberg notes in his article ‘Interpreting Landscapes’, public historians “seek to understand not only how past generations shaped the land, but how they perceived it and gave it meaning.” Is it then responsible to present a historical landscape depicting only one time period through a modernist perspective?

ON STATUES AND MONUMENTS

Historical interpretation changes quite frequently. Does it not seem odd that one of the more prominent forms of public history cannot be changed? Statues and monuments are literally set in stone. When historical interpretations change, it is much easier to re-write history than it is to re-carve it.

With this in mind, do statues and monuments still have their place in public history? Ultimately, I would suggest that the best application of statues to public history is in the form of symbolism. Eileen Eagan notes in her article Immortalizing Women: Finding Meaning in Public Sculpture that women are typically portrayed as symbols of good citizenship and embodying stoic values. I find this the best type of public history as these characteristics maintain their longevity. Statues and monuments of recognizable historical figures represent only their accomplishments, and rarely depict the overarching symbolism that should be displayed.

ON FILMS AND PUBLIC THEORY

Recently a class discussion was held regarding historical film and public history. The most interesting article we read in preparation (in my humble opinion), was The (Un)Making of a Historical Drama: A Historian/Screenwriter Confronts Hollywood written by Daniel Blake Smith. In brief summation, the article followed Smith’s trials and tribulations in his attempt to write a historical film script that would be produced into a Hollywood film. Eventually, Smith’s script was given to another screenwriter, who removed any semblance of historical accuracy. In a roundabout way, Smith criticizes Hollywood for its refusal to stick to historical accuracy in favour of popularizing its scripts. Thus, I began to explore the question of whether or not it was possible to create a Hollywood film that was truly a product of public history.

Smith lamented the fact that all of his scholarly research was pushed aside in favour of creating a script which appealed to a wider public. The question I struggle with is whether or not the initial product (Smith’s script) encompasses the ideas and values of public history, or whether the commercialized version of the script was legitimate public history.

To begin, Smith’s script was written using scholarly research, including many interviews and primary sources. Despite its roots in scholarly practice, the information was adapted to a more public medium: film. This process is similar to that of a museum exhibit, in that it is rooted first in scholarly research before being interpreted for public consumption. Analysis of Smith’s methodology allows the reader to conclude that he was indeed practicing public history.

The second script, which was adapted from Smith’s original work, allows for more speculation. Indeed, it made use of original research in order to produce a form of public history. However, it is unclear which aspects of historical research was used, and which was simply adapted. As a result, one would have a difficult time determining what information has its roots in historical fact. In this instance divergent opinions clash – historical material is being interpreted by an interlocutor in order to create a work that is solely meant for public consumption, thus, it is public history; conversely, the new script was written without the aid of research, using the original script as its basis for historical fact.

Is it possible to determine a cut-off point for diluted research, or, is it all just public ‘history’?