Former Trio Laundry Dry Cleaning Building, 20 Hilliard Street, Atlanta, Ga. Photo credit: David Rotenstein
Earlier this year The New York Times dubbed Atlanta, Ga., “the city too busy to remember.” The play on Civil Rights-era mayor Ivan Allen’s municipal sobriquet came during reporting on Atlanta’s demolition of a historic African American church, Friendship Baptist, to clear the way for new stadium construction. In the two weeks leading up to Labor Day weekend, a handful of historic preservation activists demonstrated to city officials that not everyone in Atlanta was too busy to remember the past and its architecture. Preservationists combined old-school tactics with information-age networks to win a reprieve for a city-owned early 20th-century industrial building. Continue reading
Continued from Part 1.
“The B side” of the Fringe building was seen by one potential developer as part of what needs to be fixed in Union Square. Photo credit: Cathy Stanton
So how did the small-scale artisans at Fringe fit into the proposals put forward by the master developer candidates at the March meeting? The short answer is: ambiguously. They were clearly seen by the developers as both part of the hipness of the neighborhood and part of the set of problems–what in an earlier era of urban redevelopment was more bluntly termed “blight”–that the proposals aimed to overcome. This was made particularly clear by one presenter who showed slides of what he described as Union Square’s assets—a collage of logos from new-economy businesses, including Fringe’s—but then pointed to what he called “the B side,” ugly and problematic things that still needed to be fixed in the neighborhood. His slide for the B side included an image of Fringe’s entrance and loading-dock on the utilitarian back side of the IH Brown building, and he seemed unaware that the logo and the loading-dock belonged to the same enterprise. Lacking the high-tech polish of Artisan’s Asylum or GreenTown labs, Fringe is harder to pigeon-hole–and thus perhaps easier to overlook–in discussions about affordability and inclusivity within urban redevelopment. Continue reading
Roundtable participants, from left to right: Ginna Foster Cannon, Rachel Boyle, Kim Connelly Hicks, Kristen Baldwin Deathridge, Eileen McMahon, Abigail Gautreau, and Theodore Karamanski. Photo credit: Kristen Baldwin Deathridge
At the 2014 annual National Council on Public History conference in Monterey, several of us came together for a roundtable discussion on “Sustaining Historic Preservation Through Community Engagement.” The roundtable was organized and facilitated by Theodore Karamanski from Loyola University and Kristen Baldwin Deathridge from Appalachian State University. We wanted to discuss the balance between community interests and economics in preservation. Connecting preservation to the conference theme Sustainable Public History, we asked: After the initial excitement has worn off in a preservation project, how does it remain relevant within a community? Continue reading
Somerville’s Union Square has been relatively affordable within Boston’s expensive real estate market, but an impending city-led revitalization plan is already boosting prices in the neighborhood. Photo credit: Cathy Stanton
On a cold March evening this past winter, my students and I caught a bus from Davis Square, near Tufts University, to attend a public meeting in Union Square, at the other end of Somerville, Massachusetts. Within the generally-pricey Boston real estate market of the past two or three decades, Union Square has remained relatively affordable and as a result has been something of a haven for artists, artisans, low-income immigrants, and small, often marginal businesses. The March meeting, though, was part of an ongoing “revitalization” process that had already started to bring big changes to the square. Candidates vying for the role of “master developer” for the square were strutting their stuff, trying to demonstrate both familiarity with the neighborhood’s bohemian character and capacity to coordinate more than 2.3 million square feet of new development in seven blocks currently assessed at $26 million.
My class was conducting ethnographic research focusing on a collaborative of small artisanal businesses in a former industrial building in Union Square, and we were curious about how these kinds of companies–tied to currently-hip ideas about “maker culture” in some ways, linked with the longer history of small-scale local craft production in others–would appear within the image-making that was sure to be going on at the meeting. Continue reading
Editor’s Note: This is the fifth and final piece in a series on the “crisis” in the humanities. A post introducing the series can be found here.
In The Heart of the Matter, we learn of the existence of a threat to the humanities. It is not always clear exactly what that threat is, but it is cumulative and evidenced most clearly in a trend of increased funding for Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math (STEM) education, an outgrowth of the National Academy of Sciences’ 2007 “Rising Above the Gathering Storm” report which “encourage[d] new and expanded funding for scientific research” and better “education in the STEM disciplines.”
According to The Heart of the Matter, the humanities is at risk compared to our colleagues in STEM fields. The report suggests that much depends upon the outcome of our efforts to turn back this trend because the quality of our civic life and the health of the humanities are linked. I suppose there is nothing wrong or surprising about this emphasis on crisis, given its source (an esteemed academic association) and a profusion of hot-button issues that are part of our national cultural life, from the culture wars to gay marriage and gun control. But for whom does the report speak?
From my position as the President of the Georgia Humanities Council, the health of the public humanities is more robust than the American Academy of Arts and Sciences (AAAS) suggests. While there are certainly challenges in this sector, it is also the case that if we adopt a more expansive view, the humanities can be seen as a vigorous, even thriving part of daily cultural existence. While the word “humanities” may induce a confused stare if we ask a nonacademic to define it, the fact is the humanities are on the move. They do a very brisk business in the public square and the marketplace. In an earlier post, Ralph Lewin used the word “hunger” to describe the public’s interest in California’s Humanities programs. I think that is apt. Continue reading
Editor’s Note: This is the fourth piece in a series on the “crisis” in the humanities. A post introducing the series can be found here.
Pottery wheel demonstration at Conner Prairie living history museum in Fishers, Indiana.
Photo credit: Derek Jensen
In the past few years, the airwaves have been filled with angst about the state of the humanities, primarily in college and university humanities departments. Humanities at the Crossroads (HAC), a national initiative to examine the future of the humanities in American life, was one of several responses to the crisis. The HAC planning group, however, felt that more research was needed, and they decided to focus on a single state, Indiana, as a case study.
Indiana Humanities became the lead organization for the Indiana Case Study. What could we find out about the humanities in Indiana? It was like the KWL exercise that educators use: What do we know? What do we want to know? What did we learn?
Editor’s Note: This is the second piece in a series on the “crisis” in the humanities. A post introducing the series can be found here.
Bradstreet Gate, Harvard Yard, Harvard University, Cambridge, Massachusetts. Photo credit: Daderot, Wikimedia Commons
Not long ago I was invited to a small university in California to talk about the crisis in the humanities. When I arrived I was greeted by a professor of philosophy, faculty members from the literature department, and a historian. We sat together in a small classroom overlooking a peaceful, park-like setting. But they all seemed worried, so I asked them how things were at their university.
“Well,” they said, “things were not going well.” Student enrollment in humanities courses and the number of majors were down. The president had reeled in a multimillion dollar gift, but none of it would be earmarked for the humanities. You could hear in their tense voices that they felt they were living in crisis. I pointed out that they might feel like there was a crisis at their university, but the humanities outside of the university were not in crisis–in fact, they were in great demand. It was an awkward thing to say, but there really is a gulf between the fate of the humanities inside and outside academia. Continue reading
Flower featured in the film The Heart of the Matter: The Humanities and Social Sciences for a Vibrant, Competitive, and Secure Nation. Photo credit: American Academy of Arts and Sciences
Last August, fans of the Colbert Report saw Duke University President Richard Brodhead encourage study in the humanities as essential to a balanced education. The interview segment can be seen here. Brodhead’s appearance was part of a marketing campaign engineered by the American Academy of Arts and Sciences (AAAS) that was designed to advance support for the humanities in much the same way that the National Academy of Sciences had promoted Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math (STEM) with its 2007 report Rising above the Gathering Storm. Brodhead’s appearance may have been unusual for taking the case for humanities education to such a popular audience, but it reflected the AAAS’s conviction that a national dialogue on the importance of the humanities was necessary to its future. Continue reading
Editor’s Note: This piece continues a series of posts related to the Guantánamo Public Memory Project, a collaboration of public history programs across the country to raise awareness of the long history of the US naval base at Guantánamo Bay (GTMO) and foster dialogue on its future. For an introduction to the series, please see this piece by the Project’s director, Liz Ševčenko.
Before his inauguration and during his first moments in office, President Barack Obama pledged that his administration would pass significant immigration reform to reduce deportations and provide a pathway to citizenship for undocumented migrants, as well as close the prison at the US Naval Base in Guantánamo Bay. Yet in the last six years, while Republicans in Congress have repeatedly blocked immigration reform from being passed, President Obama’s administration has overseen the deportation of a record number of migrants from the United States—two million and counting. Guantánamo, meanwhile, remains in active service, with 149 individuals detained there as of June 2014.
Skyrocketing rates of immigrant detention and deportation and the continued operation of Guantánamo may seem to be only tangentially related. But the apprehension of suspected terrorists and attempts to deport immigrants have similar consequences—individuals being forcibly removed from their homes, from their families, and from their communities to be detained for prolonged periods of time, waiting, while US authorities determine their fate.
With several immigrant detention centers located in the Minneapolis-St. Paul metro region and throughout the state of Minnesota, my colleagues and I at the University of Minnesota sought to explore the relationship between Guantánamo and the Twin Cities by creating a digital project to accompany the Guantánamo Public Memory Project. Titled “GTMO in MSP,” our project—which remains an ongoing work-in-progress—is an online exhibit that utilizes a multi-tiered timeline to document immigrant detention in Minnesota along with increased surveillance of the Somali American community in Minneapolis since 9/11. Continue reading
“At Home in Holland,” a new digital history project by students at the University of Amsterdam, responds to the way that hostile reactions to immigrants have undermined the traditional idea of Dutch tolerance and hospitality in recent years. The current Dutch asylum policy was developed in the 1980s. In that same period, Amnesty International Netherlands held its first campaign to draw attention to the problems faced by refugees in the Netherlands. How did a human rights organization usually focused on the plight of people abroad end up campaigning against human rights abuses back at home? Continue reading