In which I consider the macabre

I have been thinking about Lennon and Foley's 'Dark Tourism' article. They discussed the new phenomenon of tourist interest in recent death and atrocities, and continued by analyzing the Auschwitz-Birkenau historic site. So, what is this fascination that people have with death and destruction?

I have stood where Ann Boleyn (and countless others) lost their heads in London, I have stood where Savonarola burned to death in Florence, I have looked over the graves of Titanic victims in Halifax. I have observed medieval torture instruments (including a used guillotine) in Ghent, I have walked past rows of bones in the Paris catacombs, I have seen where gladiators once lost their lives with crowds of Romans cheering their demise. Seems I can enjoy the macabre as much as the next person, and who wouldn't enjoy the more colourful, gory parts of history? As a history student, it is the extraordinary events that capture our interest for the most part. The wars, the murders, the intrigue. But the difference is the distance I feel from these activities. This is one of the fundamental reasons I chose to study history that had happened five hundred years ago as opposed to fifty. The distance allowed me no personal attachment, no emotional draw.

I recently watched a trio of youtube videos (aaah youtube, what don't you have online?) that I happened to watch in a trio because they happened to link to each other. Hence the addictive nature of youtube. The first was the crash of the Hindenburg, complete with radio soundtrack. The second was the Kennedy assassination, a video I had never seen before (and I really wish I hadn't let my curiosity get the better of me because it was particularly horrific). The third was a 'home video' of Hitler, Eva Braun and their pals frolicking in the Alps in 1939. Now, with these events, while there is some distance, the fact that they happened in the 20th century while most of my grandparents were alive is shocking to me. I can't help but feel this sensitivity to the horrific events that are still in the living memory. The invention of colour video helps particularly with the idea that these people were not so different, that these events happened recently and could possible happen again.

As a historian I understand why Lennon and Foley would criticize Auschwitz-Birkenau for lacking historical explanation or interpretation. At the same time, I can't imagine going to a historic site like a concentration camp and trying to see it with a distant, professional historian perspective. It's too horrific, too recent. I enjoyed their description of Auschwitz as more of a pilgrimage site - while talking about such an event it shouldn't be forgotten as one aspect of the site. Visiting such a place would just be heart-wrenching - even with the inauthentic touches that Lennon and Foley point out. As public historians, we must remember what the public is looking for. Are they looking for a moving experience, or a balanced history lesson? One skill public historians must learn is putting the two together. But I have to admit - while I was standing in Anne Frank's room in Amsterdam, I didn't care that there were video screens with oral interviews, or text panels explaining the Dutch situation in the early 1940s. I was just excited and moved to be there, history lesson or no. There are just some spots where words aren't needed.

In which I remember

I was browsing indie Toronto news blog torontoist when I came across this post just one day after Remembrance Day. What a moving statement from students, a group one would not normally think would bother to impress on people the number of Canadians lost in war. Engineers had placed white crosses all over U of T's front campus, in front of University College, to remember each and every one of the 628 students, faculty, staff, and alumni that were killed in WWI. I won't say too much else, because other posts have already stated the importance of remembering. I will let the pictures speak for themselves.

In which I shamelessly get your attention

This past spring I congratulated myself on getting my BA by spending a month in Europe. The amazing museums and art galleries in cities like Paris and Rome allowed me to finally see first hand many of the things I had spent four years studying - as a medieval/Renaissance/early modern scholar, I was in heaven. But while seeing Titians in Venice and Botticellis in Florence was amazing, I remember quite clearly another museum I visited (and don't judge me too badly) - Amsterdam's SexMuseum.

This institution is as old as I am, opening in 1985, and is one of Amsterdam's most popular museums with over 500 000 visitors per year. It only cost 3 euros (a steal in any European city) and let me tell you - this was like no other museum I had been in. Plastic mannequins in revealing clothing smiled at you while you walked past a small shelf with various ancient Egyptian, Greek and European artifacts - all illustrating some sort of sexual activity. The collection mainly consisted of walls covered in 19th century pornography - studio pictures, for the most part. Imagine an explicitly dirty postcard, but starring men that look like Civil War soldiers and women whose hair would look old-fashioned aboard the Titanic.

I feel like using the term "museum" loosely, and not because I believe sexuality is not a valid historical topic. In fact, as my profile states, I find it a very interesting field. I spent the second half of my time at U of T discussing 15th century cross-dressing English prostitutes, the medieval church's views on acceptable sexual positions and the gay nightlife of Renaissance Florence. I wouldn't consider myself a historical prude. The field is still growing, being only about 20 years old, but is popular enough (as one can imagine) that pioneer sex historian Vern L. Bullough even has his own Wikipedia entry.

The SexMuseum, though, was different. First of all, it is centrally located along a main street leading to the train station in arguably the most liberally-minded city in the world. Tourists come to Amsterdam for well-known reasons. The museum was clearly catering to the tourist demographic - young backpackers looking for raunchy activities to later recount to their friends in postcards with XXX on them. The fact that it is open daily until 11:30 is case in point.

So I began to think - what makes a museum a museum? Is it any building with any coherent collection of historical artifacts on any topic, or does it have to be something more serious? A collection of local artifacts illustrating the humble beginnings of a small town, with no budget and no visitors, or a gallery of pornography, which receives half a million visitors? Is the SexMuseum seen as a legitimate museum, as opposed to if I set up my childhood toys on a shelf in my garage and invited friends over to take a look? My previous post confirmed museums don't even need permanent homes. So what of a wild tourist trap designed to make young North American travelers blush and giggle? Is it a legitimate museum?

I should point out that there are now other sex museums that seem to have more legitimacy, such as New York's Museum of Sex. With award-winning exhibits and academics on board, this seems more like the museums we all know - just with a more colourful focus than dinosaurs or medieval art. While sexuality is not fully accepted as serious topic by all, the Museum of Sex is clearly a real museum. Amsterdam's museum is a bit harder to categorize. I'm not fully sold on stripping it of its title, but the idea of including it in the same category as the ROM, the Met or Theatre Museum Canada makes me shudder just a little bit. So I will have to end this post without a firm opinionated conclusion, just more questions.

In which I think of public spaces

I was scanning my monthly UofT News e-mail the other day when I came across a story about Theatre Museum Canada. I had never heard of this museum before, and a quick look at the article confirmed that this museum, indeed, did not have any permanent home, only a website. The story talked about a new display that will be going up in Hart House (a student centre on campus) near the theatre housed within. Which got me thinking two things.

First, what a smart way for a group to show their exhibits and collections without a permanent museum structure. Not everyone can afford a home for their collections, especially one that is well-designed for the purpose of being a museum, one that is big enough with storage space for artifacts and one that is centrally located to attract residents and tourists alike. Not everyone even has the budget for any space, whether it be optimal or not. Matching up with Hart House was really a no-brainer for Theatre Museum Canada; the Hart House theatre is well-known around U of T and has seen many famous thespians cross its stage, such as Donald Sutherland, and is supported by Canadian film heavyweights such as Norman Jewison. Why not take advantage of empty walls and use them to highlight an important collection that needs a home? Especially since it seems that it may be the only theatre museum in Canada. Obviously a whole community is passionate about this collection, and placing it near a theatre space would definitely help attract the right audience and support, as well as highlight the history of the Hart House theatre.

Which brings me to my second thought. I realized the importance of bringing the museum out of the museum. One great way to get people interested in history is to place the history not by itself in a museum, isolated from the community, but within heavily used buildings with histories of their own, which many people passing by might not even realize. I myself stopped by Hart House for various reasons: 5$ international lunches, choir practices, guest speakers, gym visits, political debates or just as a place to relax between classes. One of the things I love most about public history is the 'public'ness of it: teaching people in public places or using popular media, whether it be historical fiction, an on-line exhibit sponsored by a national newspaper, a plaque on the side of a heritage building or in a city park, or exhibits in public buildings. It will be of increasing importance to get that history into as many places as possible, to interest as many people as possible.

That is until heritage and culture are finally given the importance they deserve in government budgets and each historical group receives enough money to conserve, collect and exhibit on their own.