Digital History: What's on the Menu?

Food history was buzzing online last week - Ian Mosby's post on Active History discussed problems with popular locavore author Michael Pollan's rule about only eating food your great-grandmother would recognize, and it came only a day after this Star article about the University of Guelph's 13,000-volume Culinary Collection. Public historians should recognize the importance of studying food - the politics and social norms surrounding serving and preparing food can tell us so much about different eras, and describing (or even creating) old recipes can really grab the public's interest. As Mike Ridley, U of Guelph's chief librarian, says, "the fastest way to people’s minds is through their stomachs".

I was reading Food Network Magazine not too long ago when I came across a mention of a New York Public Library project, What's on the Menu?. The NYPL has one of the world's largest historical menu collections, with over 40,000 holdings, 10,000 of which are scanned. To make this amazing resource even more user-friendly, the NYPL has started a transcription project with those scanned menus, and they are enlisting the help of the public to help them with the huge project.

Their aim is to have all the menu items and prices transcribed for each menu, so dishes can be easily searchable by whomever wants to search them - academic historians, museum curators creating an exhibit, historical fiction writers, chefs, the list goes on. The NYPL plans to do this by letting internet users look through the menus and transcribe the items and prices into a text box. Users don't have an account, and there is no log-in - anyone who visits their web page is pointed towards menus that need transcribing. They hope, of course, that visitors read the Help section first - which details what to transcribe, what to skip, and how to format.

This is an great way to have data easily searchable and available to anyone with an internet connection. Why not allow users to transcribe data? Everything is reviewed by staff (though I can't imagine how long it will take to review 642,961 - and counting - dishes). One would assume that the job won't be perfect, but isn't it better than not having anything searchable or digitized at all? It reminds me of the oh so cruel Why you shouldn't become an archivist video that made the rounds last year. One character points out archivists will toil away (in a basement, of course) processing a large collection that no one will use - until someone finally does, but that person will be angry that the entire collection isn't digitized. The video is a joke, of course, but it does point out that researchers expect a lot from these collections - and records aren't serving their purpose if they're not easily accessible. In this digital age, accessibility is key - for researchers and, really, for anyone with an interest in history.

One interesting aspect is the Data section, where the NYPL lets users download the collected raw data and use whatever creative tools they can to analyze, interpret, or even create games with the data. The NYPL clearly understands the use of crowdsourcing - something I touched upon way back in January 2009 when discussing the Smithsonian's digital reputation. Maybe a software engineer will come up with something brilliant - using knowledge a trained historian wouldn't have. If only Miss Frank E. Buttolph could imagine how the collection she started in 1900 for the NYPL would be used in 2011.

In which I turn to archival web exhibits

We were introduced to a wonderful database in archives class a few weeks ago, the Smithsonian's Library and Archival Exhibitions on the Web. The Smithsonian is a huge institution, and I am so happy I now know about this site. Online exhibitions are a great example of digital history because they weren't (for the most part) just a digital component of a physical museum exhibit. This is partly because archives are less likely to have the personnel, space, money and time to put together an exhibit, and partly a reflection on the acceptance of digital history. There is no reason why archivists wouldn't want to share their holdings with the public, and online exhibits are the perfect way to reach a wide audience from around the world.

I discussed the Bibliotheque nationale de France's Bestiary in a presentation last week. What a great way to share their incredible holdings of medieval French manuscripts with the public! Unless I had travelled to France while the physical exhibit was showing, I would never have learned so much about depictions of animals and seen so many examples of medieval images. I was very impressed with their high-resolution digital images, which I am sure someone spent months doing. The result, however, is a rich collection of historical artifacts available for viewing by anyone with a computer and internet. I can't pretend that seeing these images online are any replacement for seeing them up close in an archive, however I have to be realistic. Even I, who studied medieval history at a large university, would never have had the chance to see these artifacts. I have to forgo the smell, the feel, the atmosphere of the archive, but am happy to do this if the other option is not seeing them at all. This is really the strongest argument for digitizing as many historical items as possible; the advantage of immediate availability overshadows any arguments to the contrary.

The database gives people an idea of how much there already is on the web. These exhibits were put together by large universities, archives and museums, trustworthy sources who have put much time and effort into making parts of their collections available. The range is everything from to the French Revolution to Brooklyn in the American Civil War, from Chaucer to Edgar Allan Poe, from Ottoman Embroideries to the Housewife's Rich Cabinet. An amazing amount of information is available for free online, you just have to know where to look. For the most part they are exhibits, meaning there is enough background information for most people to understand what it is that they are looking at, and the layouts are generally clear and well-designed to attract audiences. Digital exhibits are a great way to keep a physical exhibit going after it has closed down. Museums often have limited space; by letting an exhibit live on digitally the artifacts can continue to be highlighted and people can keep learning about new historical topics. Online exhibits are a great option for those institutions wanting to highlight their collections but do not have the space or funds to put together a physical exhibit at all. While students can use these exhibits as a resource, they are really a great example of public history: artifacts and information on display for the public to learn something new.

In which I defend museums

While doing research on film archives (for HIS9806), I came across a harrowing quote from one Douglas Crimp, a professor at the University of Rochester. His take on museums took my attention away from the various methods of preservation of nitrate film and I thought I would share it here.

Crimp's view of museums is a pessimistic one. He sees them as institutions of confinement, similar to asylums and prisons (!). He believed they placed art within a confining framework of historicity that disallowed the possibilities of discontinuity and rupture with the past. The author of the book I was reading, film archivist Karen F. Gracy, disagreed; she believed the museum maintained itself in its gatekeeper of culture role by forsaking rigidity and allowing different forms of artifacts in its doors [1].

I had problems with Crimps's statement. Was he insinuating that museums stole art, placing them in an institutional setting where they were decontextualized to the point of being unrecognizable? Did placing them in a historical venue make them any less important, ground-breaking, modern? I have to agree with Gracy's idea that museums have been able to adopt various new objects and represent them as important historical artifacts, everything from celebrity shoes to classic Mac computers from the 1980s (these have to be on display somewhere...). Museums are no longer the stuffy, dark old buildings filled solely with hundred-year-old objects which had belonged to important people. Museums are changing, and are able to show the importance of everyday objects from the not-so-distant past as important cultural, political and economic artifacts.

As for placing objects in confining historical frameworks: What better way to observe how things can be completely new than to place them alongside similar (or not) objects for comparison? True, museums tend to lean towards an idea of progress, and as history students we are taught to never believe something hasn't happened before, and that everything is continuous. Museums, however, are also able to teach visitors about the evolution of ideas, countries, attitudes, etc. I may not know a lot about art, but I can't believe placing an important new piece in a museum will immediately give it a negative historical aura by taking away its individuality. Museums like MOMA are popping up in many large cities and feel very different than museums like the American Museum of Natural History, but they are museums nonetheless. Maybe Crimp needs to redefine his definition of a museum before comparing them to prisons.



[1] Karen F. Gracy, Film Preservation: Competing Definitions of Value, Use and Practice (Chicago: The Society of American Archivists, 2007), 71.