Breathing Life...

"Observing the world observing world wonders is a favorite pastime. I get to be in the presence of natural beauty, and also the beauty of the curious visitor, the human in action - the human in awe. Like a fly on the wall in the Louvre, I get to view both the art and the onlooker and see how they need each other. Without the foot traffic, a museum is just another empty warehouse. Therefore, without acknowledgment, a human is just an empty vessel. It is we who breathe life into each other. Thank you for seeing me and bringing me to life. I hope these words reach you and give you a sense of relatedness. You’re the painting I’m presently staring at. The value I put on that is priceless."

~Jason Mraz

I came across these words whilst reading my Sunday dose of The Freshness Factor 5000, a pop artists thoughts from the road that seem to keep me grounded for the week. I love this statement about observing the world observing the world, and I can relate. Perhaps it explains (at least to some extent) why I sat outside the Louvre in Paris for two hours contemplating rather than going inside. It was inspiring just to be in the presence of the world wonder - but it wasn't just the familiar pyramid structure that was inspiring, was it? It was the tourists too, one and all: the disgustingly adorable honeymooners whose world might shatter if they're forced to break the grip of each others' hands, the elderly people on the "beep-beep carts" who threaten to run over any life-form that may be in their paths, and even the obnoxious American families with their matching tshirts cameras grasped like weapons. People from all over the world were crossing paths, and even if they all came with different feelings toward museums, they all came to go to the one and only LOUVRE. I suppose this was my own personal practice of "visitor studies" long before I ever dreamed I would be taking a Museology class at Western.

I must say that I really appreciate this blogger's insight to the world of museums and artifacts. I really feel that there is a co-dependency between artifacts and spectators. I was in the collection storage room alone at the OCHS today and I couldn't help thinking that these treasures may as well not even exist when they're locked away in the dark. Sure, on occasion, some history nerd like me will get a chance to get in there and enjoy a private moment with their importance - but it really made me realize what kind of life artifacts take on once they're on display to an appreciative visitor...or even an indifferent visitor for that matter!

It kind of makes me reconsider how much focus of a museum should rest on the visitor rather than the artifact. Should it be an even split?

I found a pair of slave chains from the Civil War era in our collection today. They're just sitting on a shelf with all the nonchalance in the world. I was grateful that we had the opportunity to see one another. It felt good to breathe life into them for the first time in who knows how long, even if it was only for a few minutes - and it's not too hard to imagine what kind of feelings this one particular artifact breathed into me.

The Curator of a Small Museum: A Jack of All Trades

Over the past term, I've been considering myself such a "practical historian" - but it wasn't until today that I was actually reminded of the practicality and reality of WORKING in the museum field instead of just studying it. Certainly, the theories discussed in my Museology class at Western have brought me miles and miles from where I started back in August of 2008 - but there is nothing like the buzz of a power tool to remind you of all the minor details that go into running a museum, especially a small museum.

The Oneida County Historical Society, where I indulge in occasional intern work when I'm at home, is a small museum setting that allows me to see the actuality of the business. While I've been away in the ivory tower, I suppose I've forgotten just how many things the Museum Director is responsible for - maintenance, painting, exhibit design, merchandise, paperwork, AND making the coffee all in one day? It is abundantly clear that the curator of a small museum must be a jack of all trades.

I'm really excited to be working on a new temporary exhibit for the historical society while I'm home during my holiday break. This is what I've been given to work with: one really old exhibit case, a box full of donated materials that pertain to a local Italian band director, and very little information (most of which is unclear and confused).

This is pretty neat - the fact that I have complete creative control over this project. I was quite inspired, sketching out what I wanted the display case to look like, where everything would go (I even got way over-ambitious and contemplated possibly using some kind of audio enhancement). But I went into the society today to make my vision a reality...and I realized...

I had no idea where to start.

Exhibit design is a lot more complicated that it seems. I think people tend to equate it with other simple tasks, like decorating a Christmas tree or arranging a bookcase. There are several things to be considered: what kind of display methods are going to be best for the well-being of the artifacts? For the understanding of the patron? How many artifacts will fit in the case? Which ones can I leave out? What do I put in first? Do I have to interpret every artifact?

I decided to take a breath and start with the largest artifact, a large banner from the children's band that Vito Mole directed. It looked like it would fit perfectly as a backdrop on the pane of the case - but how was I supposed to mount it...or hang it? I decided to call in the director for a little boost in the right direction. We settled on the method of suspension using hooks and wire.

This is the part that required handy-work and power tools - something that was not covered in Museology class and could be a potential liability to be completely honest (but that's nothing to worry about because two years ago, I filled out a card that covers me and the society in case I'm injured on the job ). So the director (bless him) was very patient in teaching me about the softness of wood and that you need to plug in the drill before it can make a hole. These weren't my proudest moments, but necessary all the same. I don't mean to make myself out as completely hopeless with handy-work, I've had my share of fixing things around the house and working on stage crew in high school, but it's a different story when we're talking about objects that mean a lot to people and to the community.

What is that saying about university and exposure?

And so - for today - the banner was hung. Huzzah!

Digital Humanities: Not So Scary After All

I can hardly believe I'm writing this post already. Not only does it mean that I'm back in Central New York and none of this term seems as though it's happened, but it means that I'm actually having to confront the fact that I am a completely changed historian.

I felt it was necessary to wait until the absolute last minute before writing this post so that I could give a complete image of what my first term at Western has done to me so far. What has this course done to me so far? I suppose it's done just what it's supposed to do. It's challenged every aspect of academia that I've ever known and it's hurled me forward into the future of the humanities - and indeed into a field that I find so mind-boggling and fascinating that I'm not quite sure what I would have done had I chosen to pursue an MA (or heaven-forbid, a PhD) in History. I've finally learned that that path is not for me. I just don't have the heart for the ivory tower - and it's OKAY!

I think that the field of public history is so important. I think that this course was important for me to take. I think that it's important that I'm blogging. It's wonderful. I also think it's very appropriate that I'm watching "Julie and Julia" right now (a fine example of how a blogging skeptic built a career off a tiny blog project). I was so hesitant at first - and I suppose I still am (a bit) because I feared that people would read this...and they would JUDGE ME...and maybe that's true, but again, it's OKAY! This blog is for self-reflection. Yes, I do hope that other eyes see these words and take something away - even if it's just a chuckle...but really, this is MY blog.

I love blogging now. I wish I had more time for it. I want to start a personal blog. I want to start a travel blog. I want to start an anonymous blog about my time in Canada and my observation of Canadians! Yes, these are projects for the future. Digital history has released blog-mania within my being!

One of the most fascinating things that I've learned from this course so far is that historians CAN work on teams - WE CAN! I've learned more from trying to figure things out with my 9+ classmates than I've ever learned from reading a textbook. The trials of creating a website and trying to find sources and speaking for the public and spending hours in the archives and working on teams to get a project done on time. We've done it together. These are mutual experiences. This is our web of colleagues and friends that will remain well into the future - and this is a field where that's extremely important. I have seen the light of collective intelligence!

The way I think about everything is slightly altered - not just history. I think most of that can be attributed to the discussion of our Digital History class, most of which (I will gladly admit) I spent with a headache just trying to follow the words that were coming out of my colleagues' mouths, let alone form my own opinions about them and then apply them to real-life situations. But what I'm realizing now - now that I'm outside the classroom and putting my melted mind under a magnifying glass - is that I really CAN apply what I've absorbed in class, and I DO. Sometimes I can't turn it off. Like I said, this whole experience has changed the way I think, in addition to the way I read, learn, and quite frankly, the way I speak! These are all good things.

I do have to admit, I'm slightly terrified about the second half of the digital history course: Interactive Exhibit Design. The only word I'm quasi-comfortable with there is EXHIBIT. I could, of course, drop it and go for the archiving course instead - but this year is for taking chances. I want to do something out of the ordinary, and if that involves feeling completely LOST for another term with programing and electronics whirling through my head, then so be it! It can only lead to a learning experience of the greatest kind: the kind where you learn from your epic failures and short-comings. I have no shame.

Tally-ho!