Potential Exhibit Plan

After staring at the exhibit plan and object list trying to find some agreement between the space and number of objects, I think I've come up with an arraignment that may work for space and the objects. As you can see in the attached screenshot, I've included the ideal route the exhibit visitor would take. Each of the objects (represented by "Floor Planner's" rainbow-colored circular rugs), safely arranged behind the protective glass wall, progress through the 19th century. On the wall opposite the glass case are seven circular tables corresponding with the items behind the case (e.g. The first table will contain information about the first object, the second table with the second object, and so on). Although this looks to be a dizzying, circular motion, guests are still free cross between the benches sitting in the middle of the room.

My goal in featuring the 19th century items in this exhibit is to have exhibit visitors get a better sense of Philadelphia society through time-specific objects. This way, as the guests progress through objects, they're also progressing through time. Further informing their visit are the corresponding information tables. Initially, I thought these tables would include the exhibit cards. But it seemed a little backward to not have the exhibit captions right near the object. So, I thought that including some passages or interesting information for our object history papers could best be used as a part of these tables. In a best case scenario, it would provide more information about the object to those who crave it, while not overwhelming the casual exhibit visitor at the glass case.

Ideally, the exhibit visitors will discover the amount of information appropriate to their interests and, even more ideally (it's probably a hoop dream, actually) talk with other guests about what they've seen and read. This way, guests can communicate their subjective impressions with one another. This exchange of ideas could promote a phenomenological exchange with the exhibit and its visitors.

Sensing the Gaze: Conforming to an All-Seeing Society

This weeks reading brought about a couple of reactions centering on sensory experience. The first reaction, sight, has to do with my object: the 18th century wasitcoat. The second shifts toward another sense, touch, and how we can (or can't) make use of this when thinking about our exhibit.

To begin, while reading Mark M. Smith's Sensing the Past: Seeing, Hearing, Smelling, Tasting, and Touching in History, I was immediately reminded of a reaction I posted a few weeks ago. Before moving further, it's important to note Smith's critique of Marshall McLuhan (and Walter Ong). The author (and others referenced in the introductory pages of the book) has an issue with McLuhan's implicit suggestion non-visual senses are lower, or inferior senses. To me, although Smith offers significant evidence of a sensory evolution in alternate histories rooted in various regions, I don't quite buy into critiquing implicit suggestions. I understand the importance of Smith's expansion into the other senses, but I didn't really find it helpful to critique sight in our visual culture. Then again, maybe I'm just being sensitive to another McLuhan critique. This all said, I want to get back to my post about structure and power from a few weeks ago. Smith's chapter on sight uses Foucault is wrestle with the panoptic gaze's power. In sum: feeling surveilled by another, a person can internalize a "managerial gaze" (p. 25). I attempted to apply this to fashion because it was a visual confirmation of one's social status. Smith seems to agree with this assessment, noting a person's "accept[ance of] social norms" as a microcosm of Foucault's musings. I've been interesting in thinking about power and surveillance in society because the more information I receive about Capt. Brown, the more it appears surveillance plays a role in his social performance. As I mentioned last week, sitting near more powerful community figures informed Capt. Brown's social status. A document I reviewed this week listed Capt. Brown's children. One child, George Washington Brown seems, to me, be a result of such surveillance--indicating Capt. Brown's awareness of his status in 18th century Philadelphia because of his affiliation with America's first president. Uncovering bits of information like this further suggest that his waistcoat embodied power within Philadelphia's culture and society.

Roughly transitioning, now, to touch in the limited (...more likely exhausted...) space I have remaining, I want to explore Smith's use of "seeing is believeing, but feeling's the truth" (p. 93). A few weeks ago, during our class discussion, a few of my peers discussed the benefit of having tangible supplementary material at the exhibit for the public to interact with. I think this is something worth exploring as it seems, according to Smith, the paradigm may be shifting in this direction. According to the author, some museums even encourage active participation via touch (p. 115). I guess I'm not sure if Smith views this as a good or bad thing. His mention of museum touch as a road to museum profit via increased attendance wreaks of skepticism. But, again, maybe I'm reading a bit too into things. My interest in talking more about this has more to do with a potential paradigm shift within museum exhibits than anything else. I'd be interested to hear if my Material Culture peers felt the same way.

Becoming More Human? Prosthetics and Normalizing Objects

My reading of The Prosthetic Impulse was a bit chaotic. To me, it seems prosthetics are a postmodern text for this collection. Although some may argue that the functional nature of a prosthetic limb reflects a ‘modern’ sentiment, the differentiated examples covered in this text and connection to language games makes a stronger case for prostheses as indicative of postmodernity. The editors’ introduction and use of the term “posthuman” suggest they, too, agree with this characterization. If we’re to read the ‘post’ in posthuman the same way we it in postmodern, then it seems Smith and Morra agree that there’s more than one way to define prosthetics’ role in defining human experiences. Willis, in his chapter focusing on speed and displacement, evokes Derrida’s philosophy of language games to discuss how quickly one moves from “normal” to “other” (p. 245).

Prosthetics serving a function.

The negotiation of “normal” appears as a frequent theme within the text. In this sense, prostheses provide normalcy. In one chapter, this characterization raises the issue of agency and whether prostheses limit human agency. In clearer terms: is a person still ‘normal’ or a ‘human’ without their prostheses? Does the normalizing effects of prosthetics inform what makes its more human? The difficulty in answering these questions lays in the chaos. Semiotics theory reminds us that there are many ways to read a text. Such is the case when considering prosthetics. One ‘reading’ of prosthetics that I find a bit more interesting than the rest is that of Vivian Sobchack. Sobchack, herself an amputee, weaves personal experience into her discussion of the prosthetic metaphor.

Still a prosthetic? More expressive than functional?

Now the interesting part: How does this apply to Capt. Brown’s waistcoat?

Immediately, this appears difficult and potentially impossible. If we read prosthetics as a vehicle by which it’s owner reaches a desired end (being more “human”), we see a connection to the waistcoat. An interesting piece of information I discovered about Capt. Brown was documents about owned pew space in his church. Essentially, parishioners would lease pew space to reserve a spot for crowded services. Repeatedly we see Capt. Brown sharing pew space with other high-ranking Philadelphia officials (e.g. other military officials, future political leaders, etc.). In sum: Capt. Brown was a symbol of high society in Philadelphia. The waistcoat, to me, was a vehicle for maintaining this status.

Robert Rodriguez's take on prosthetics in Planet Terror.

Beyond this relationship, I find myself thinking more about “class” or “success” inherently placed in an object like the waistcoat. This, on the other hand, week’s reading has me thinking more philosophically about objects, like prostheses, being more “human.” Class or prominence is one thing because you can perform a specific classes or successes… but can you perform humanity? I guess this is where the discussion of agency comes back into the fold. But, I guess that’s the nature of reading a postmodern (or even hypermodern) text: it’s thought provoking because of multiple and fractured meanings. Because this collection is so different from the articles we've read so far this semester, I think it'll add a different element to what objects philosophically are and what they do.

Prosthetics: More 'human' than human?

Dramaturgic Denim: Jeans and Narrative Identity

I found the first half of Miller and Woodward’s Blue Jeans: The Art of the Ordinary particularly interesting based on our last class meeting. A majority of my notes center on performance. Last class, when discussing potential exhibit themes/theses, we narrowed our options to several strong contenders. One such contender was how each object served as a vehicle for performance. That is to say, the object owners used the objects as an indicator of their public or private selves.

Miller and Woodward, too, discuss the role of performance during their ethnography of their “silent community” (p. 10). These performances vary from informant to informant, as the authors describe the role of jeans for a diverse collection of people. Whether it be divorcees attempting to reclaim youth (p. 25), a woman publicly displaying/feigning their relationship status via “boyfriend jeans” (p. 51), or a mother’s displaying her too-busy-to-bother narrative (p. 17), the authors provide a number of examples of jeans informing one’s narrative identity.

Katie Holmes in (maybe?) an example of "boyfriend" jeans.

The second half of the book steps leaps from how people use jeans to explore what jeans do for people. Specifically, Miller and Woodward wrestle with the “ordinary” quality of jeans and how such a characterization helps to eliminate self-consciousness in people—particularly The Other (re: immigrants to the examined area). The authors argue that jeans are “a medium that is genuinely transcendent and poses no possibility of inequality” (p. 119). To this end, the Miller and Woodward point out that, in public, jeans give The Other a chance to feel normal by being ‘ordinary’—something members of the domestic majority take for granted. This isn’t to say throwing on a pair of stone-washed, low-rise, boot-cut jeans immediately serves as an equalizing force. Miller and Woodward acknowledge that jeans are certainly limited as an equalizing medium in the process of identity development.

To me, the second half of this book is certainly interesting, but the first half lends itself to the discussion of public/private performance using objects to narrate the story of your self. In the case of Captain William Brown’s waistcoat, the satin material and button craftsmanship both serve to communicate something about the wearer’s public identity as affluent society member. The object, in this case, supports the societal narrative of its owner, William Brown.