Historiarum

In examining the different atlases and maps this past week, a thought kept reoccurring that I haven’t quite been able to work through. There seems to be a significant difference between these historical atlases and text-based historical analysis, mainly in that the writing is more sparse in these visually based works. This makes sense since the primary sources are the focus of the works, but it made me question how historians approach these materials.

It seems as though often visual culture is presented on its own, as if they speak for themselves. This is not always the case obviously, but the narrative explanations often seem thinner than traditional approaches. There seem to be several possible reasons for this. One that I wonder about is whether as text continues to carry less and less weight in our culture, and is supplanted by different forms of imagery, is there a natural inclination to highlight the visual and constrain the text? The question that would follow for me though, is if this is the case, how can we continue to present complex interpretations of history through a combination of primary sources, imagery, and text in an appealing package?

The other point that struck me was it seems as though in assessing the maps presented in Historical Atlas of the United States historians can use visual source material to reform the narrative structure of their work. While Hayes chose to present his narrative in a chronological fashion, I wondered if it might not have made more sense for him to have used a topical approach. It seems that in comparing maps of a “political” or “patriotic” persuasion from different times and places might have been more useful that comparing maps simple from the same era with each other. I’m not sure if visual imagery lends itself to this sort of thematic analysis better than text sources, but it seems to be the case.

Share This

Maps can provide interesting access points to the past. The information, presentation, and context of historical maps can indicate more that geographic locations. Instead they carry cultural attitudes and values, changing demographics, and contemporary political inclinations. In gathering historical maps together, topical themes can be traced over time and place, and much can be gleaned from their nuances and details.

Derek Hayes’ Historical Atlas of the United States and the David Rumsey Map Collection offer two efforts to utilize historical maps for research and education, but accomplish their similar goals through very different approaches. There is much to compare and contrast between the two projects, including the comparative selection of maps and historical context they are placed in. Mostly, however, it seems relevant to dissect the differences between the digital and traditional methods of publication of each. Historical Atlas of the United States is a traditional printed atlas, while the Rumsey Collection is an online archive. The collections have much in common, but it is in their differences that the different potential uses for maps begin to appear.

Perhaps because the book is still a more familiar device, the overall look and feel of Hayes’ work is more attractive than the website. Historical Atlas of the United States is a gorgeous book with beautiful reproductions, and it is very enjoyable to turn the pages and closely examine the maps. It is laid out well, with text woven between the maps, and helpful captions supporting both the analyses and the primary documents. This layout seems to be the greatest advantage of the traditional method of publication. With the book it is much easier to place maps in context with each other due to large size of the viewing area. It is difficult to effectively do this through a website as most users do not have computer monitors near the size of the large paged atlas. Similarly, the quality of color and resolution is under control in the printed format, whereas the website is again reliant on the technology of the user. With regard to these simple presentation aspects the book offers a superior experience.

Additionally, the book was far more efficient at delivering complementary text alongside the maps. With all of the relevant information&emdash;primary sources (maps), commentary (captions), and narrative text&emdash;readily available it offers a seamless experience. Alternatively, the Rumsey Collection struggles to coherently present all of the material related to the map. Large versions of the map appear in different windows than the metadata, forcing the user to flip back and forth between the two. This makes the natural inclination to refer from text to map and back a difficult task. This seems to be a simple design flaw, however, and an effect similar to the atlas could be accomplished digitally with better site structure.

Maybe not coincidentally, Historical Atlas of the United States offers better analysis and context for the maps than the Rumsey Collection. This might be a difference in approach. The Rumsey Collection functions more as an archive than a historical argument. It does seem possible though that the awkward presentation system inhibited the development of textual analysis or commentary on the website. Nonetheless, the maps on the Rumsey site offers little in the way of information beyond some metadata regarding the map’s origins and relations to other maps. Again, this is likely a function of the goals for the site, but it is hard to imagine it presenting a coherent and useful historical narrative as it is currently constructed.

This is not to say the digital medium does not have its advantages. The Rumsey site asserts, “Presenting individual maps in a digital format literally breaks the boundaries of an atlas’s bookbinding, allowing the viewer to view single maps independent of their original encasing.” And in presenting the primary sources the Rumsey Collection offers much more than Historical Atlas of the United States. Most importantly, the maps appearing on the website can be zoomed in on, allowing for a much closer examination of detail than the book. For example a map of AT&T trunk lines from 1891 appear in both the atlas and on the website. As highlighted in the images below, it is apparent that the maps on the website are far more useful for research and for getting a sense of the information the map is conveying. If one only was able to view the AT&T map in the atlas the towns and routes would be unclear. Instead, viewing it on the Rumsey site, questions arise regarding why certain towns were chosen to receive telephone and telegraph lines in the early telecommunications era.

The above image which is the general size of the one pictured in the atlas offers little insight into the detail of the map. However, as shown below, the website allows a much closer analysis of the map

Ultimately, there are a number of trade-offs in choosing a method to present historical atlases. It seems harder to present a coherent narrative digitally, though this might simply be that the goals and technology of the Rumsey Collection are not congruous with such a project. However, the flexibility and precision the digital maps offer is a major advantage in developing a collection of maps for comparison and analysis.

A final advantage of the digital format that is not present in the Rumsey Collection, but bears mentioning, is the potential for creative uses of maps it offers. The photo sharing site Flickr contains a number of groups dedicated to historical cartography, including one called Memory Maps. While these are not strictly historical atlases, they do contain maps of a historical bent. The group description describes, “The idea is to take a satelitte image of your neighborhood from your childhood, and use “notes” to tell the story of you growing up.” In transforming maps of familiar areas, users are creating items which will speak to future historians, as well as create a usable record of the near past for current scholars. Here we can begin to further explore the way maps can be infused with narratives similar to the ones presented in both Hayes’ and Rumsey’s collections.

As one user notes, “So if memories are an expression of historical remberances, how is it possible to use current maps to express the temporal quality of those memories?” It is an interesting thought to keep in mind while examining maps of eras past. As both Hayes and Rumsey show, maps are far more than simple geographic representations. And as their projects exemplify, there are different ways we can come to know and understand maps more deeply and begin to unravel their meanings.

Share This

Reading Lee Anne Ghajar’s post about the interpretational aspects of cartography reminded me of something I came across a few months back. You ask, “But is a satellite view of the earth subject to the same interpretive categories as the first maps of new continents?” I would answer probably not, although I’m sure we could stretch and find some points about which side of the earth is the picture and its orientation. Regardless the flip side of the question, about how we can add value to maps seems more interesting.

A few months back I came across a site called Worldmapper. Their tagline is “The world as you’ve never seen it before.” And it’s true. Take for example the two images below.

The first image represents the territory size in proportion to the number of botanical gardens found in that area. The second image does the same but for the number of plant species. So here they have taken maps and given them unique representations with two somewhat related sets of data. The disparity between the two is amazing. Moreover, it makes one quickly realize how maps can be instilled deeply with both useful and loaded information. This seems important for us to remember moving forward in class since, as Lee Anne notes, “… historical maps are necessarily objects that must be interpreted.”

Share This

New words catch my eye in nearly everything I read, but often I’ve forgotten them shortly after examining their definitions, since generally speaking there is either little opportunity to use them or they are words with no real distinction from other words or phrases except to make the author seem more intelligent than he or she really is. Jargon has its place, but I find it all too regularly used as a crutch for the author and an impediment for the reader. Essentially if we want to reach an audience outside of the discipline, it should be used sparingly at most.

Reading John Lewis Gaddis’s The Landscape of History this week was my first encounter with the word consilience and it seems to me to fill a gap in our vocabulary. Certainly it qualifies as jargon, since its usage is essentially only relevant to academic disciplines. It is not specific to any one discipline, however, but instead is a term that spans all of the disciplines, which I find more useful. Gaddis quotes two definitions of consilience: “unexpected coincidences of results drawn from distant parts of a subject” and “a way of asking whether, in the gathering of disciplines, specialists can ever reach agreement on a common body of abstract principles and evidentiary proof.”(49) Barring the final chapter (in which Gaddis waffles on the ultimate value of history while setting up some arguably false and created ambiguities of historical research), the rest of his book operates with consilience as the as the basis from which he draws comparisons between historical and scientific methods, finding utility in some and fault with others.

These metaphors he drew with disciplines such as astronomy and biology were particularly useful in thinking about what historians do, and how it is done. Gaddis highlighted cartography largely as a vehicle to show the impossibility of true representation, as well as the arbitrary, but importance of decisions made by the representers. This is a familiar idea to many students of history, but an important one to keep in mind. More to the point, for a class such as this one which combines the disciplines of history and cartography it seems greatly important since we will be dealing with a mode of representation which we are familiar with in very limited senses as users, and almost wholly unfamiliar with creatively. History has usually been represented via words and text. Images are secondary. But the other part of Gaddis’s argument, that much can be gleaned from examining other disciplines can be put to work here.

Rather than setting history apart from other disciplines and holing up in our own methods and practices, it seems better to look at how other disciplines approach problems, and how they render conclusions, and what we might recognize, borrow, or discard from them. Maps have always held a place in historical analysis, but often in a very limited sense. By thinking about their potential and looking at the process of cartography, perhaps we can explore new approaches to historical research and representation.

Share This

Looking at the articles by James Paul Gee and Niall Ferguson, as well as playing MYST III, it seems we might be witnessing a paradigm shift in the model of education. The trends away from simple textual based learning, as well as the mammoth advances in computer science over the past two decades have led to the entrance of video games into the classroom. However, the enthusiasm is far from universal, especially for those who generally do not equate learning with fun.

As Gee offers in the conclusion of “Learning by Design,” “When we think of games, we think of fun. When we think of learning we think of work. Games show us this is wrong.” Gee examines the underlying lessons that many non-educational games can offer its users such as strategic thinking in specific contexts. What he is essentially arguing is that their is a model of learning embedded in games, and that it is often far more effective than ones found in the classroom precisely because its users enjoy using the material and as such get more out of it.

To an extent MYST tries to bridge the gap between tradition and the new in its structure. While there is a certain fetishization of textual forms in the game (in the use of books as the mechanisms of time travel, as well as the high amount of reading required for a video game), most of the game revolves around following visual clues to solve puzzles. While I found the clues too disconnected and obtuse to make the game enjoyable (and thus a useful learning experience), I imagine others could have an immersive, challenging, and pleasant experience. In this sense MYST may meet Gee’s requirements for a useful educational game. What would be interesting would be translating a game like MYST into a historical context. Perhaps something along the lines of Tomb Raider, with players hoping to unlock the secrets of the Valley of the Kings, but based on the work of Howard Carter, rather than some ahistorical model. Then users would be learning both the abstract lessons Gee finds video games are most effective at conveying, as well as the historical content Ferguson thinks can make them educational tools.

What is likely most important to remember in all of this, it is that video games are becoming central to the experiences of children today whether we like it or not. As Niall Ferguson writes of the current school-age generation, “And, as they seek a deeper understanding of the world we live in, they
may not turn first to the bookshelves. They may demand to play—or
rather replay—the great game of history for themselves.” Rather than decrying this as a negative development, it seems more useful to attempt to understand the games they play and think creatively about how games and the their principles can be incorporated into a positive learning experience.

Powered by ScribeFire.

Comments on Tad’s blog.

Share This

My site is going to be pretty image heavy, and I wanted to find away to annotate the images and analyze them. The ideal method would be to figure out a way to pull in images from my flickr page and utilize its note adding capapbilities. However, this involves understanding API’s and all sorts of coding that is way, way out of my league.

So I settled on a method using CSS that I found at CSSplay. After tinkering with the code a little bit, I really liked the results I got. You can see it here. I’s love for some feedback!

Unfortunately, my notation does not appear in IE6. The author, Stu Nicholls, claims, and demonstrates, that this method should work. So something must have gone awry when I hacked his code up a little to make it suit my site better. Fortunately, Nicholls has a few other examples available, and hopefully I will either be able to fix the first method or use one of these successfully.

I offered some appreciation and suggestions for Steve, Mark this week.

Powered by ScribeFire.

Share This

Some people in class have been wondering about creating tools to allow for user commentary on their sites. Lifehacker highlighted one such free service a couple weeks back. You can find it here.

Powered by ScribeFire.

Share This