Well somehow it is the middle of term and this week Rob asked us to take some time to examine our use of blogs and Twitter over the past month and a half. Its hard to believe that so much time has past since we were first told that using these social media tools would be a major course component. I was pretty hesitant at first but here I am now, blogging and tweeting and with no major catastrophes as of yet.
I found the most difficult thing for me was to find a blogging voice. I think blogging is best when its casual yet insightful; one of its great assets is that a blog is not an academic journals or a dense books but instead provides relatively short and accessible pieces of information that the reader can sift through and consume at will. From personal experience I know the blogs I like best, and am therefore far more likely to regularly read, are those that are interesting and written with a sense of humour. In my posts I can see my attempts at keeping things light and humorous, but looking back it wasn't as easy as one might think. After, ahem, a 6 year undergraduate degree formal academic writing has become not only natural but I would say almost a crutch. Though they may have more of a ranting, unstructured quality than traditional history writings, blog posts such as mine from two weeks ago on the historian as artist vs. scientist, retain that sort of dry, impersonal language that is all too easy to fall back on. While it is easier to rely on traditional methods, a blog post needs to be more than coherently written and intelligently argued. It needs to be interesting and it needs to be engaging.
In my short blogging career I have assumed that my purpose is to provide personal thoughts and insights that my readers might appreciate. Lucky for me I get a captive audience (you folks!) who have a vested interest (marks!) in reading and responding to my posts. Also, I think my Mum and Dad read this sometimes (Hi Mum and Dad!). But I always try to keep in mind an imaginary broader, less invested internet audience that might peruse The Public Schmistorian, however unlikely this may be, in order to keep things interesting. Trying to be both relevant and interesting has turned out to be a significant challenge, but I think a few of my posts (specifically my posts on the Bionicles archives and HistoricLOLs) have come close.
I think that because I am new to blogging and all too aware of the standards set by great blogs, I find it difficult to use my site in a truly reflective manner. Again, years of schooling has me thinking of writing as a refined, well-researched product, rather than a public process, but I believe in the philosophy of collaborative learning so I'm just going to have to figure out a way to get over it. Examining the timing of my posts I can see the effects of this blogging attitude. I am persistent in publishing one post a week, usually in the 24 hours before class. Effectively, it would seem, I have turned the blogging process into a weekly assignment, complete with self-imposed deadline, as this is a format I am more familiar with. While I think this method is adequate, it doesn't really take full advantage of the blogging medium. I would like to work towards using The Public Schmistorian as more of an immediate place for developing thoughts and reflections.
With the exception of my most recent post on the value of Bionicles archives, I have generally stuck to to subject material related to our Digital History class. Rereading my posts it is clear that I am an author stuck between two realms. While I am concerned with critically assessing, for example, the impact of data scraping on the artistic qualities of historical research I also continuously bring my writing back to the realities of public consumption. Academic criticism is very important but what I have found especially interesting, which both our Digital History class and the Public History program more generally have stressed, is the idea of audience. How do we make history relevant and accessible to a general public? More specifically, how do we increase levels of public historic consciousness without relying on individuals' motivation to seek history out? This theme of communicating history to the masses is especially prevalent in my Bionicles and HistoricLOLs posts.
As for Twitter, well, I can't say I'm in love with it. First off, given the havoc that facebook has caused in terms my productivity, I'm not sure I really want another social networking site in my roster. I found that once I started following more than a dozen or so people the tweets flowed in regularly and the tab labeled "(10) Twitter / Home" or "(42) Twitter / Home" or "(346) Twitter / Home" was extremely distracting. I have to close the tab which means I often forget about it for days or even a week. As my addiction to facebook attests, I could most definitely find a way past this annoyance were I so motivated, but Twitter hasn't convinced me yet. Though I know it can be used for the power of good, doing public history and other such admirable things, I find the whole process can tend towards the narcissistic. I talk about myself, my thoughts, my opinions enough in person that I'm not sure I want to extend this to the Twittersphere. Also, I make really bad pun-ny jokes; not everyone needs to be subjected to them. Twitter can work quite nicely, however, when promoting a specific project, like Caitlin is doing with UWO's medical artifacts collection, so I haven't completely ruled it out yet.
As I just posted on Twitter, reflecting on my very stunted blogging and Tweeting I felt like I could empathize with Justin Bieber trying to write his autobiography at the tender, dreamy age of 16 - there just isn't that much there to work with. But I feel like this blog, like the Biebs' biography, is only the beginning of a long and talented career and I'm going to stick with it.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Lego's Bionicles: Archival Embassadors?
In her introduction to Archivaria 61: Special Section on Archives, Space and Power Joan Swartz makes reference to a rather unconventional archive. Lego's Bionicle brand began in 2001 as a series of action figures however, due to their incredible success, products now include novels, dvds, and video games. Crucial to the narrative of this science fiction are the Great Archives of Metra Nui, a fictional collection of documents and objects relating to the fantastic realm. Any Star Wars fan-boy/girl worth their weight in cheap, plastic light sabers will tell you that this emphasis on archives is far from new. In Star Wars: Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Jedi Temple Archivist Madame Jocasta Nu helps the dashing young Obi Wan find the location of the planet Kamino. Not only do Bionicles borrow heavily from the themes of the original trilogy, but they also use the archivist as a important character in their universe.
In a web galaxy far, far away bionic heroes fight evil super-villains by harnessing the power of the natural elements: so far so predictable, right? The catch is that two of the key heroes, Tehutti and Whenua just so happen to be archivists. According to one Bionicles book, Tehutti:
"[K]nows all the stories about disasters that befell Matoran who rushed into things without thinking. He believes caution, planning, and a knowledge of the past are the most important tools for a hero. Unless, of course, the exhibits in the Archives are threatened – then he takes risks of every kind to protect what he views as the most important place in all of Metru Nui."
Does he believe in the preservation of the past? Definitely. Will he kick some serious bionic butt to ensure his enemies' respecte de fonds? You'd better believe it.
In a rather accurate reflection of the current academic climate there is even a tension between the Onu-Matoran archivists and the academic Toa of Ko-Metru working away in their "knowledge towers". These academics sometimes stay in the towers their whole lives and are described as being loners who are intensely focused on developing their theories. Sound familiar?
Though overly serious analysts might point out that the Archives of Metra Nui more closely resemble a museum given that their holdings include artifacts, tools and creatures, their emphasis remains on preserving and researching the past.
Okay so Lego made a ridiculous profit from of selling a few million nicely packages pieces of plastic at $14.99 a pop and decided to use some of that money to fund an elaborate back story that just so happened to prominently feature archives - so what? The "so-what" is that 45% of American boys between the ages of 6-12 own a Bionicle with a far higher percentage knowing about them. My little brother got a Bionicle every birthday and Christmas for years, he was so fanatical about them. As one of the most popular brands of his generation Bionicles have had an incredible impact on young minds. By presenting their heroes as defenders of historical documents and knowledge of the past more generally, Lego has exposed a large portion of North American youth to the often mysterious world of the archive. This obviously does not mean that every eight-year-old is going to want to be an archivist when they grow up, but by learning about how important the preservation of the past is and being exposed to heroes that champion history as power I believe Bionicles have contributed in their way to expanding historic consciousness.
There also seems to be a real potential for Bionicles to connect these younger generations with the preservation of the past in the real world. Everyone seems concerned with boys struggling in the classroom, so why not tap into something they love? I could see a field-trip to the archives or a museum going much more successfully if the children were framed as heroic protectors and researchers rather than unwilling subjects of an irrelevant institution. As with my earlier discussion on historic internet memes, this subject inevitably brings up important issues of audience and finding balance between entertainment and information. Academics may groan and point out every problematic aspect of having commercial toys become ambassadors of the archive, and they may be right, however, the ridiculous success of Bionicles seems to demonstrate how history can connect with a supposedly alienated generation.
I would love to hear anyone's opinions on whether you think Bionicles are in fact contributing to the historic consciousness.
And lastly, for the sake of visualizing data, here is a wordle generated from Swartz's piece on Bionicles:
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
The historian as artist or the historian as scientist?
The readings this week were all about how technological advancements are affecting the kinds of questions historians are asking and how these technologies have the potential to transform historic knowledge. Many of the pieces including articles by Roy Rozenweig and Stuart Fox brought up the potential for a complete historic record. Obviously there is no way make an archive that contains every piece of human knowledge and experience, but with the proliferation of information online and improvements in digital archives, the records left by inhabitants of the 21st century will far exceed all those before us. With so much information soon to be available, the question is how will future historians make history?
It is foreseeable that the proliferation of new technological methods such as scraping in combination with the exponentially growing amounts of historic material available online will result in more and more studies whose scientifically quantifiable nature more closely resemble sociological studies. In a future where the abundance of historic material makes broad social histories more achievable than ever before I have to wonder whether there will be yet another split amongst the history community. Librarians and archivists broke from academic history in order to distinguish information management and organization as a distinct and important field of study. Will historians who continue to produce subjective interpretations based on their close consultations of a limited scope of primary sources break away in a similar matter in order to protect their methodologies? Must the historian as artist and the historian as scientist be mutually exclusive?
I have personally have always thought of history as an art. I find the concept of social sciences to be a rather disingenuous attempt at dismissing the subjective and unpredictable nature of human interactions. Though history is most often classified as a humanity, it seems hard to shake this idea that scientifically quantifiable knowledge is more valid than subjective interpretations. This is not to say I do not recognize the value of these broader sociological histories. Ideally, they will build a unprecedented knowledge base that that the historian as artist can then use as a platform for their more nuanced inquiry. However, ideals are not always practical.
The problem I anticipate is that of audience. As earlier mentioned, Western society generally privileges quantifiable knowledge however this pretense of authenticity can be deceptive. In much the same way that statistics can be manipulated to suit various agendas, seemingly scientific historic "truths" can lull consumers into a false sense of certainty. History as art is more difficult as it relies heavily on the interpretation of primary sources and involves an in-depth level of analysis and critical thinking. Bite-size snacks of information are far easier to consume. There may still be an audience for detailed histories of famous persons; enthusiasts will likely still pursue as much information as they can find on renowned figures such as Barack Obama, but what of the "Big History" nobodies who currently inform our social histories? Limited funding means that prioritization can be a harsh reality.
Perhaps I am just clinging onto dated methodologies (though these methods will remain relevant to the pre-digital era) but I feel it is important to recognize the value of the art of history before we start integrating more scientific methods. An integration of these methods would make historic knowledge more accurate and relevant than ever, but we must remain aware both of the tendency of Western society to privilege scientific knowledge and the value and limitations of traditional historic methods.
It is foreseeable that the proliferation of new technological methods such as scraping in combination with the exponentially growing amounts of historic material available online will result in more and more studies whose scientifically quantifiable nature more closely resemble sociological studies. In a future where the abundance of historic material makes broad social histories more achievable than ever before I have to wonder whether there will be yet another split amongst the history community. Librarians and archivists broke from academic history in order to distinguish information management and organization as a distinct and important field of study. Will historians who continue to produce subjective interpretations based on their close consultations of a limited scope of primary sources break away in a similar matter in order to protect their methodologies? Must the historian as artist and the historian as scientist be mutually exclusive?
I have personally have always thought of history as an art. I find the concept of social sciences to be a rather disingenuous attempt at dismissing the subjective and unpredictable nature of human interactions. Though history is most often classified as a humanity, it seems hard to shake this idea that scientifically quantifiable knowledge is more valid than subjective interpretations. This is not to say I do not recognize the value of these broader sociological histories. Ideally, they will build a unprecedented knowledge base that that the historian as artist can then use as a platform for their more nuanced inquiry. However, ideals are not always practical.
The problem I anticipate is that of audience. As earlier mentioned, Western society generally privileges quantifiable knowledge however this pretense of authenticity can be deceptive. In much the same way that statistics can be manipulated to suit various agendas, seemingly scientific historic "truths" can lull consumers into a false sense of certainty. History as art is more difficult as it relies heavily on the interpretation of primary sources and involves an in-depth level of analysis and critical thinking. Bite-size snacks of information are far easier to consume. There may still be an audience for detailed histories of famous persons; enthusiasts will likely still pursue as much information as they can find on renowned figures such as Barack Obama, but what of the "Big History" nobodies who currently inform our social histories? Limited funding means that prioritization can be a harsh reality.
Perhaps I am just clinging onto dated methodologies (though these methods will remain relevant to the pre-digital era) but I feel it is important to recognize the value of the art of history before we start integrating more scientific methods. An integration of these methods would make historic knowledge more accurate and relevant than ever, but we must remain aware both of the tendency of Western society to privilege scientific knowledge and the value and limitations of traditional historic methods.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Webtiquity
It's hard to believe how far the internet has come since the mid-90s. Take a look at one commemoration of the web of yore: Jim's TOTAL animated GIF museum Hurts the eyes but warms the heart, doesn't it?
90s web pages are indeed antiques, relics that I think most of us look back at with a certain degree of smugness and nostalgia, but they were the forefathers of this blog-filled tweeting entity that we are so addicted to today. As historians we know to respect the past, but with such a shifting and often temporary medium it can be overwhelming to think of this constant loss of invaluable primary sources. Initiatives such as the Library of Congress' Twitter archive relieves a little of this anxiety. Unfortunately many of those mid-90s gems are gone forever, a loss that future historians of the rise of popular media will mourn dearly.
For this week's class we're designing our very own, very basic (ie. 1995 style), webpage. We're digging down to the web's roots, getting our hands dirty by writing some old school html pages. Though we had the option to use a more modern program I found the idea of writing from scratch more appealing. Having this dated skill is far from necessary given contemporary advancements; I have no delusions that I'm ever going to get hired for my dream job because I can design a page that looks like a 13 year old in 1996 made it. Instead I am drawn to it as, to use Rob MacDougall phrasing, an "act of historical recreation". Much like learning handwriting in elementary school (do they even still do this? Has handwriting been replaced by iPhone typing?) the skill may not be all that practical but there is a satisfying art to both forms of writing. Both connect us to an imagined simpler time. Both can be incredibly frustrating (uppercase Gs? Who thought them up?).
Writing html is connecting me to a less intimidating internet, but it is also introducing me to how effective a learning environment the web can be. Writing code I have come across numerous issues and frustrations, but once I learned to use the web as an asset instead of dismissing it as some perverse test of my sanity, my "luck" changed. I have learned that the web is full of forums that help with everything from my most basic of roadblocks to tackling complex issues of advanced web design. In my experience so far, it seems like there are far more people out there wanting to help than I had expected.
By going old school writing this html page I feel like my relationship to the web is changing. I once felt like the web was some exclusive club where I could only go for walks around the outer grounds, but now I realize that it's my own self-limitations that keep me out of its inner sanctums. Right now my goals on the internet are still pretty basic, but its good to know that there is a lot of support out there should I wish to take on some bigger projects. Writing this 90s style page may have been an act of "historical recreation" but it has also connected me to a friendlier web, one which I feel more confident exploring.
*** Update: Here is the link to my 90s style Lion King webpage ***
And with that I leave you with that ambassador of the 90s web, the dancing baby:
90s web pages are indeed antiques, relics that I think most of us look back at with a certain degree of smugness and nostalgia, but they were the forefathers of this blog-filled tweeting entity that we are so addicted to today. As historians we know to respect the past, but with such a shifting and often temporary medium it can be overwhelming to think of this constant loss of invaluable primary sources. Initiatives such as the Library of Congress' Twitter archive relieves a little of this anxiety. Unfortunately many of those mid-90s gems are gone forever, a loss that future historians of the rise of popular media will mourn dearly.
For this week's class we're designing our very own, very basic (ie. 1995 style), webpage. We're digging down to the web's roots, getting our hands dirty by writing some old school html pages. Though we had the option to use a more modern program I found the idea of writing from scratch more appealing. Having this dated skill is far from necessary given contemporary advancements; I have no delusions that I'm ever going to get hired for my dream job because I can design a page that looks like a 13 year old in 1996 made it. Instead I am drawn to it as, to use Rob MacDougall phrasing, an "act of historical recreation". Much like learning handwriting in elementary school (do they even still do this? Has handwriting been replaced by iPhone typing?) the skill may not be all that practical but there is a satisfying art to both forms of writing. Both connect us to an imagined simpler time. Both can be incredibly frustrating (uppercase Gs? Who thought them up?).
Writing html is connecting me to a less intimidating internet, but it is also introducing me to how effective a learning environment the web can be. Writing code I have come across numerous issues and frustrations, but once I learned to use the web as an asset instead of dismissing it as some perverse test of my sanity, my "luck" changed. I have learned that the web is full of forums that help with everything from my most basic of roadblocks to tackling complex issues of advanced web design. In my experience so far, it seems like there are far more people out there wanting to help than I had expected.
By going old school writing this html page I feel like my relationship to the web is changing. I once felt like the web was some exclusive club where I could only go for walks around the outer grounds, but now I realize that it's my own self-limitations that keep me out of its inner sanctums. Right now my goals on the internet are still pretty basic, but its good to know that there is a lot of support out there should I wish to take on some bigger projects. Writing this 90s style page may have been an act of "historical recreation" but it has also connected me to a friendlier web, one which I feel more confident exploring.
*** Update: Here is the link to my 90s style Lion King webpage ***
And with that I leave you with that ambassador of the 90s web, the dancing baby:
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