In which I look at built environments

I have to admit that landscapes were not one of the many historical subjects that have caught my attention before I read this week’s readings, Rebecca Conard’s “Spading Common Ground” and David Glassberg’s “Interpreting Landscapes”, both found in Public History and the Environment, ed. Martin V. Melosi and Philip V. Scarpino (2004). In reading these articles, however, I realized the wealth of information that someone, especially a public historian, can find in these built environments. Everything from shopping malls to tenement buildings, from battlefields to railroads, from Native reservations to national parks, they are all part of the built environment, and hold good historical information for those willing to dig deep.

Conard preaches for a collective approach to preservation, without which the public will lose out on a worthy historical narrative. Land managers, preservationists and environmentalists all have their own agendas, and have rarely collaborated together on large projects. Land managers are usually looking for what’s economically viable. Environmentalists want a return to the wild, while forgetting (or perhaps not seeing) that there is no ‘wilderness’ anymore – land that is seemingly wild and natural can also have been as altered by human activity as a field paved over to make a parking lot. Preservationists, on the other hand, don’t see the ‘wild’, natural landscape at all, but only the artistic and historical merit of old buildings. While there’s nothing wrong with this, the buildings need to be situated in their natural setting to further understand their context. Conard wants to banish this either/or thinking of natural vs built, and find the layers of meaning in the interaction between the two.

Glassberg discusses the importance of involving the citizens of the area in the environmental research. People see their own landscapes differently from outsiders, and even differently from their own neighbours. Their perception can depend on class, race, gender, family history, length of time in that area, almost anything can change their view. Good interpretation can help people feel part of a larger environment, as well as enhance their understanding of their landscape.

So many factors have changed the landscape over hundreds of years. Glassberg argues that economic forces were the first to change the landscape in the years after English settlement in North America. New crops were planted and grown depending on European market forces, while animals were forced into pens. By the 20th century technological changes had made the most impact. Not only did trains create new living areas outside of city centres, but streetcars also changed the face of cities with their linear divisions. Soon people were clamoring for a chance to go back into the wild, and national parks were created to appeal to those looking to go back to 'pure' nature. No matter that these parks were artificially created, with new plant life, animal control and modern amenities for travelers.

While an environmentalist would want to tear down these buildings and restore the pristine nature beneath the tourist façade, Conard would argue, as a public historian, that these buildings are an integral part of the historical narrative and can tell us much about building projects in the 1930s. Another problem can arise when discussing historical sites – much of the time, what makes the site special is spread over more than one era. Good interpretation can bring these eras to light - such as the example of Fort Ticonderoga, where a woman dressed as an American tourist from the 1830s discussed 18th century military history. Visitors aren't afraid of different historical layers, and interpreters should take full advantage of people's interest in history to explore new ways of unravelling an environment's history.

The somewhat scary thing about these created sites is that the vast majority of people don’t see these creation as anything else but ‘nature’. While it is difficult to look at a forest, or field, and know whether someone has chosen to plant certain foliage there, there are more obvious factors that visitors miss completely. I have to admit I was surprised when I read that the people in charge of Mount Vernon had forbidden any building across the river from the site. I have visited George Washington’s home a few times and had never once pondered why the beautiful view from the back of his home, looking over the Potomac, remained (most likely?) as it was in Washington's time (minus the sailboats, I assume). While this is a small example (perhaps going back to PEI’s national park featuring Anne’s green-gabled house would be more illustrative), it shows how visitors don’t think critically about landscapes, especially when visiting a park or historical site. Conard fears that people will lose the ability to see the difference between a ‘theme park’ and a real site, and thus will be willing to tear down the real site and replace it with the theme park. While this is an extreme fear, I think it’s an important point to ponder. As public historians, we need to figure out how to reach out to people and show them the rich history these changing landscapes hold.

Now that I am more aware of this aspect of public history, I find myself looking for history in the landscapes I know. The house I’m currently renting is a tiny bungalow just south of the UWO campus. Most of the houses in the neighbourhood are just as small, a sign of post-World War II building when people wanted detached housing and large backyards but building supplies were scarce. There are driveways at each house, showing the growing significance of owning a car. In comparison, my house in Ottawa, built in the 1970s, also features a large backyard but also a driveway with a double garage. Even these simple observations tell historians information about these decades. There is a wealth of information to explore in this area of public history, especially with the help of environmentalists, land managers, and the citizens themselves.