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.

In which I rethink Amazon

In our digital history discussions, we often get into heated debates (well, not really debates as we usually agree on the topic) regarding digital technologies. The difficult part of the class is attempting to tie our rants about these topics - for example, whether internet technology is getting too personal - back to the task at hand, that is thinking of technology in terms of historical study.

Amazon has been mentioned frequently in class. Many people love it and its personalized recommendations, and Dan Saffer, author of Designing Interactions, has listed Amazon as a great example of a smart technology - one that takes information and personalizes it for the user, creating a clever site that can make life easier. I began to think how a service like Amazon could be used in a more academic sphere. Different variations of existing technologies has already been mentioned, such as the smart GoogleKids idea Ruthann came up with and on which Simon pondered. I began to think of how Amazon could be used academically, and came up with AmazonScholar.

AmazonScholar would be similar to the Amazon book store we all know and love (or hate), but it would cater to university students and those in academia, or those wishing to browse through the latest works from university presses. A large, online academic bookstore with overnight shipping - what could be better? Many Amazon features would be found on AmazonScholar, such as the book recommendations. It would suggest for you the best (or most popular) books on your research subject. Users could rate books to give readers a good idea of whether the book would be right for them. Users could also make lists for others to browse. Instead of 'Sophie's Favourite Mysteries' there would be 'Sophie's Top Books on Education in Medieval England' which would list all the books I find helpful on that subject. It could be a sort of annotated bibliography for other students to use as a resource. The main front page would list the top ten bestsellers, showing which subjects were selling fastest (art? history? economics?) and of course the user's personalized front page would show the hottest new books in their field.

A huge online resource for academic works - what a great resource for those doing academic research. Ratings and recommendations would make it that much easier to find the right books. Amazon's personalized technology would be a perfect fit for those trying to stay on top of the new publications in their field - for both professors and students alike.

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.