Category Archives: Public History

Evaluating Digital Public History

28 Sunday Apr 2013

Posted by in Courses, Digital Public History, Public History

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When I was in middle school (at a private school), we had to do these self-evaluations at the end of every quarter, for every class. I think each on was about 3 pages long, and they asked about how we thought we were progressing, and what project we liked best, and what we thought our strengths and weaknesses were. No one I knew liked doing them. It wasn’t that we were 10-14 year olds being asked to evaluate our own performance, it was that we neither saw nor knew how they were used. As far as we knew, they just went and sat in a file, maybe emerging for parent-teacher conferences, but we could not see any impact the evaluations had on our daily lives at school.

I mention this because one of the main impressions I got from this week’s readings was that evaluation processes need to have and be driven by Purpose. Evaluations should contribute to the ultimate goals of a project in some and not just be another hoop to jump through. The feeling of throwing data down a hole is discouraging; returning with useful data which can improve your project or show that it’s being used is rewarding. Evaluation should be a means as well as (or instead of?) an end.

That said, I don’t know that I’m ready to run complex evaluations on my own. One of the projects on which I’ve been working at RRCHNM has included periodic testing, which I count as a sort of ‘formative’ evaluation (to use a term from Birchall et al). Periodic in-process evaluation helps us make sure we’re heading in the right direction and readjust course as needed. Watching the evaluation process, sometimes participating, is helpful for me, at least. Think of it as the lab half of a science course, conducting experiments while still reading the texts.

From this week’s readings, I have an idea of what makes for good evaluations, both in development and use. Keep the goals of the project in mind, think about outcomes not output, look for your strengths as well as weaknesses when reading the data (Preskill). Bear in mind the variety of user experiences before, during, and after interacting with your project (Kirchberg and Tröndle). Consider how you’re planning to use the evaluation findings when deciding what sort of evaluation(s) to conduct (Birchall et all). Make sure the findings are readable and accessible to the people who need them, up to and including training people how to read them (Villaespesa and Tasich). These are only soundbites, obviously, but they capture some of the ideas I’m storing for future use.

Readings:

Clio Wired Wrap Up

04 Sunday Dec 2011

Posted by in Clio Wired Fall 2011, Digital Humanities, Material Culture, Public History

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The question, since it’s not on the syllabus, was: what difference does new media make to doing history? Reflect on your time with us this semester.

I want to address these in two sections. First, the disclaimer that I am a new media fan, have drunk the kool-aid, etc. I think there are number of ways that new media makes a difference to the practice of history, and the class does an excellent job of covering them. What follows is just what I’m particularly excited about these days.

One of the best advantages new media has for history is the ability to easily embed non-textual sources. My favourite class in my MSc programme was the Material Culture of Gender in 18th Century Britain, where our sources were not only the books we read but tea tables, prints, advertising cards, furniture, clothing, and buildings. Representing these objects in traditional print media is problematic: either you spend a great deal of money for a (big, heavy) book full of large, full color glossy photographs or you save money, have a few color photographs, and end up describing the objects which you’re trying to interpret. Continue reading »

Something Profound

14 Monday Nov 2011

Posted by in Clio Wired Fall 2011, Digital Humanities, Public History, Quotes

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A quote from this week’s readings that I particularly liked:

Something profound happens when you work transparently—when you have to summon up your courage to listen to people and shape complex ideas out in public every day. Your work becomes more about humility than about your own authority and expertise. And somehow, magically, the work product gets better and better.

Michael Edson, Director
Web and New Media Strategy
Smithsonian Institution

From the article: Tim Grove, “Grappling With Radical Trust”, History News (July 2010).

Week 12: Citizen History

12 Saturday Nov 2011

Posted by in Clio Wired Fall 2011, Public History

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In September I attended the AASLH annual meeting in Richmond. One of the sessions I wanted to attend, but didn’t get the chance, was led by the editors of a recent work titled Letting Go? Sharing Historical Authority in a User-Generated World. If you follow the link to the publisher’s page, you can read the table of contents. Although the book is focused more on the museum community and pubic history, it came to mind when I was reading the articles and essays assigned for this week.

Written history, academic history, often seems to be written with the idea of authority, either in finality or in a closed conversation. One of the apparent consequences of the “professionalization” of history1 has been historians writing and “doing” history for other historians. This is not in and of itself problematic, but it has led to an assumption that everyone speaks the same language and knows (and will follow) a similar set of rules.  Citizen history changes the rules and the language.

Of course, the rules and language were never as set in stone as some would think. Historians working in museums or otherwise with the public have been aware of that, whether or not they accepted it. A curator can write clear label text, carefully construct an exhibit and educational program; there will still be visitors who ignore all the presented information, or who read what you have written in a completely unexpected way. The divergence of intended and received information can be seen as a failure, but how we react to that failure can change, in fact seems to be changing.

From my entirely self-informed understanding of 20th century educational and museum history, there was for some time an attempt to change the behavior of the visitor. The exchange of information, whether from a curator or academic historian, was one way: into the audience. The challenge which is now being voiced by some, including (I believe) the editors and contributors of Letting Go, is to start a conversation, to engage the audience in a conversation, and moreover to listen to them.

Giving voice to the non-experts is scary. How can we give up the authority that we have earned through hours of work, reading, and all those graduate classes? What if they don’t listen to us? What if they are wrong about something, or say that we are wrong?

On the other hand, listening to the non-experts is exciting. When they realize how broad and deep our knowledge is, they respect all the hours of work and reading (well, most of the time).  If we listen to them, they may be more inclined to listen to us. At times, they may still get it wrong.

The main concern I have seen in citizen history, both in my own experience and in the readings, is a fear that the public will misbehave – commit vandalism, break the tool or the site. It is expecting the absolute worst behavior of people. Certainly, there will be some vandals. There will be the one person who stands on the left side of the Metro escalator, who talks loudly on their phone in the quite train car, who speeds recklessly on the highway. There will still be all the other people standing on the right, reading quietly, and driving within 10 MPH of the posted limit. We should give those people a chance.

Moreover, we should be excited to give those people a chance. They can be extremely passionate about things that interest us, or even things that do not. As Roy Rosenzweig mentions in his article about Wikipedia, the user-generated encyclopedia  “offers a detailed 3,100-word article titled “Postage Stamps and Postal History of the United States,” a topic with a devoted popular following that attracts little scholarly interest.” Although not generally applicable or usually publishable, this group of wikipedians might prove helpful should a curator at the US Postal Museum run into a thorny problem.

Moreover, once a community of participants has established itself, they will help to keep down the number of vandals and troublemakers. Full disclosure: I have an account to edit Wikipedia. Just this past week I was reading an entry and noticed that someone had added “youll love these awesome deals” to one of the references. So I went in and made a minor edit. Users may have their differences, but in general I think the citizen historians are interested and excited to be included in a meaningful historical project.

That, for me, is one of the best reasons to be willing to surrender a little authority, to listen as well as talk: the enthusiasm of the volunteer can restore your own energy and dedication to a project.2

  1. Generally used to describe the late 19th century creation of a distinct identity for historians working in the academy [↩]
  2. I almost wrote a long paragraph comparing this feeling to the benefit of a responsive audience for theatre actors – as compared to an empty room – but I decided to stick it in this footnote instead. Maybe later. [↩]

Visualizing the Past

06 Sunday Nov 2011

Posted by in Clio Wired Fall 2011, Public History

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Back in high school I had this idea for a field trip in a van. It was going to be what I did after college (where I would, of course, double-major in theatre and history), and it went more or less like this: most public schools these days have trouble getting the resources (time, money, manpower) for field trips, but field trips to historic sites were some of the best times for me as a kid, because you got to be where the past happened.1 In order to bring that experience to schools, I was going to get a van and fill it up with objects, clothing, and build a whole educational workshop that could go for a class period or half day in whatever space was available.

One of the features that I concocted was a map mash-up which would help students see the historic landscape and the modern simultaneously. There would be a map, probably the historic map, printed large so everyone could see; the other map, say the modern street map, would be printed on overhead projector type clear plastic so it could overlay the historic one. I thought the visual collision of past and present would help other kids see how history is related to the world around us, in the roads and fields and buildings.

Needless to say, I never got around to making the field trip in a van, but the map idea stuck with me. Which is why I really enjoyed a number of the sites on the syllabus for this week (11), which are using digital tools to make a much more sophisticated version of a historic/modern map mash-up. Hypercities is only currently configured for select cities, but the interface is good. It allows users to select a time range and to increase or decrease the opacity of the historic map(s) which overlay a modern satellite view.  Some of the cities have only a few maps; London apparently only has one, but it’s John Snow’s cholera map!

Map overlays or mash-ups aren’t, of course, the only sort of visualizations available for historians. The variety adds to the use, and I find visualization tools personally useful. I am the sort of person who makes mind maps, writes and reads simple entity-relationship diagrams for relational databases, and appreciates a good flow chart.

However, when I remember my high school plan and impulse, I look at the visualization tools another way. Visualization tools can help a historian analyze their data, but they can also make that data more comprehensible to an audience, whether scholarly peers, students, or the public. It could be in the form of an argument, where the visualization illuminates an aspect of the data which is otherwise buried. It can also be in support of an argument, for example a relational diagram which highlights what aspects and relationships were considered most important in the data.

For this second form of visualization, the trick is making something which is true to the data and comprehensible to the reader. Even my low-tech overhead sheet map wouldn’t work for a group of students who had no idea how to read a map. Provide a key, define your terms. A visualization may be gorgeous, but if you’re the only one who can understand it, what’s the point?

  1. In the words of one of the kids Sheri took on a house tour, you get to “touch history” [↩]

Knights in armor and men with gonnes

15 Friday Apr 2011

Posted by in 16th century, Public History

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Every year in the spring, my friends who are historical reenactors go to two events: Military Through the Ages, at Jamestown (MTA), and Marching Through Time, at MariettaHouse Museum in Maryland (MTT). Although the two events are quite different in scale and outward tone, the basic concept is the same. Groups that interpret military companies or troops from various periods come and are arranged in chronological order, and visitors can walk in whatever sequence they want, asking questions and seeing the progress (or regress, depending on your path) of military technology and tactics.

Shortly after Military Through the Ages took place, I received the latest issue of The Public Historian, one of my favorite regular publications. The issue has a wonderful interview with Ivor Noel Hume, and the following quote stuck with me:

And I have found that, with the seventeenth century, groups like the Sealed Knott Society in England, the reenactment group, they do some very good work. Someone takes an interest in shoemaking or building construction and they write little papers about what they have learned. They are just not about shooting but are deeply interested in the history and make contributions.[1]

Among other things (which I hope to come back to in future posts) I was struck by the phrase “seventeenth century.” Other than some early colonial sites on the east coast, and Spanish sites out west, there isn’t much seventeenth century history being told in the US. Moreover, pre-seventeenth century history is most often seen statically, in museum displays, or in two dimensions on film and in print.

At this point, I think I should clarify something about my reenactor friends. One or two go to events like Military Through the Ages with 20th c. groups. A few are part of a Jacobite regiment, from the 1745 Stewart uprising. But most of the people I know are part of two groups: La Belle Compagnie, which interprets the 1380s, and Lord Grey’s Retinue, which focuses on the 1470s.

Arming demonstration for a knight ca. 1513. Linlithgow Palace, 14 July 2007

For the first time, after reading the article and my friends’ posts about their weekend of interpretation, I was struck by what a unique opportunity they offer in the US.  When I was in Scotland, you could go to any number of castles or other historic sites and find people, professionals or amateurs or both, interpreting everything from the Roman era to post-World War II rationing. The picture at left is from a tournament weekend at Linlithgow Palace, a huge draw for people of all backgrounds; throughout the day this man demonstrated the process of putting on armor at the time of the Battle of Flodden (1513), and pointed out the differences between his armor, as a noble, and that of his vassal.

In the United States, I am not aware of places that offer regular access to pre-1600 interpretation for any culture (Asian, African, or European, although I sincerely hope there are some Native American/First Nations). Looking back to when I was a kid, I know that as much as I loved reading, seeing people demonstrate martial and material culture would have had a much greater impact. In fact, I know it did, because I vividly remember what living history interpretation I did see.

What it means to me is that my friends, who are by day programmers and military personnel, stay-at-home parents and bankers, are also some person’s first experience of tangible wonderful history. It might be the man demonstrating cooking, or the woman with the spindle, or just seeing the parent and children running around playing with toys appropriate to the period of interpretation. They are bringing to life a period and area of history which does not, in this country, have a physical presence, and in a way which is purposefully accessible to the public. I think that’s wonderful.

1 Ivor Noël Hume and Henry M. Miller, “Ivor Noël Hume: Historical Archaeologist,” The Public Historian, Vol. 33, No. 1 (Winter 2011): 25.