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Archive for the ‘From the Editor’ Category

What Public History Is

01 Mar

by Paul Caputo

legacy-marapr09When Legacy first announced the theme for this issue, we heard some variation of the following question on more than one occasion: “What do you mean by public history?”

The difference between history and public history is rooted in context. Public historians do their work outside the classroom. The website Suite101 defines the field this way: “Public Historians, as opposed to academic historians, work with and for the general public. They work in archives, museums, public policy organizations, historical societies, and in media.” The website for New York University’s department of history defines public historians as those who “present and interpret history in a wide variety of dynamic venues, ranging from history museums to digital libraries.”

Public history helps us remember who we are as a society. When throngs gathered to witness the historic moment of Barack Obama’s inauguration in Washington, D.C., they did so in the chilly shadows of the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument, components of the National Mall and Memorial Parks. Even while history was being made and the nation looked to the future, we were reminded of our past. The looming Washington Monument that we saw in all of those panoramic crowd shots on TV commemorates the nation’s first president. The Lincoln Memorial, which played host to the inauguration, not only honors our 16th president, it was also the site of Martin Luther King Jr.’s famous “I Have a Dream” speech. Having just elected its first African-American president, the nation was reminded of a time not too long ago when such a thing seemed unimaginable.

The inauguration itself took place on the steps of the U.S. Capitol, which was built in the late 1700s, partially burned by the British during the War of 1812, reconstructed between 1815 and 1819, and expanded (largely by slaves) in the 1850s. Even when it was new, the Capitol hearkened back to a shared heritage, borrowing architectural elements from famous European buildings. The building is made simply of brick, stone, and iron, but its history tells the story of who we are.

The cliche goes that those who don’t understand history are doomed to repeat it. Even in a relatively young nation, there are buildings and stories that make us who we are everywhere. You don’t have to be in the capital city or even on a site managed by a land management agency to find a place that helps us understand how our culture was forged. Sometimes it’s not even a physical place, but rather a person dressed or speaking a certain way. What ultimately matters is the stories about the place—not just the facts, but perspectives about why things happened a certain way and who the people were who made those things happen.

This is why interpretive sites that present history from multiple perspectives are so important. This is one of the reasons why interpretation itself is so important. Interpreters have the power to make sure that history is not just told by the victors, but by all people. (According to William C. Davis, author of Lone Star Rising: The Revolutionary Birth of the Texas Republic, one of the infringements inflicted upon Texans by the Mexican government was that it abolished slavery. Is that story told when we “remember the Alamo?”) The ever-growing field of public history ensures that history itself belongs to the public.

That’s what public history is.

 
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Posted in From the Editor, Interpreting Public History

 

Interpreting Rivers

01 Jan

by Paul Caputo

legacy-janfeb09This issue of Legacy focuses on the interpretation of rivers. At first glance, you might imagine that, because rivers are a natural feature, this issue would focus on natural heritage. But the opposite is the case. As authors proposed articles for this issue, it became abundantly clear that when we think of rivers, we don’t just think of the veins of rushing (or sometimes trickling) water that dissect our maps. We think of the people who lived along the shores, depending on rivers for sustenance, transportation, or whatever else affected their lives or livelihoods.

As Mark Carr of AEP River Operations points out in the profile, even most landlocked cities came into existence because there was access to clean water. Rivers are the lifeblood of the nation, and thus are home not only to unique and interesting natural habitats, but also to much of our cultural heritage.

Feature articles in this issue about America’s “Great River,” the Mississippi, and eastern Arkansas’s St. Francis River detail histories that weave through time the way the rivers themselves carve indelible, unpredictable marks on the landscape. These stories, “Navigating the Timeless Waters of the Upper Mississippi” by Julie Cutler on (posted February 2, 2009) and “A Meandering Memoir: A River’s Impact on Shaping the Arkansas Delta” by Mary Anne Parker, Debbie Van Winkle, and Shea Lewis (posted January 7, 2009), tell of a balancing act between man and nature that becomes, at times, more of a shoving match. Even a Visitor’s View about DeSoto National Wildlife Refuge in Iowa (posted February 16, 2009) tells not of the power and beauty of the Missouri River, but the unhappy fate of the steamboat Bertrand, which succumbed to one of a million dark obstacles and sank in 1865.

As always, I welcome your feedback.

Paul Caputo is the art and publications director for the National Association for Interpretation.

 
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Posted in From the Editor, Interpreting Rivers

 

The Medium is the Message

01 Nov

by Paul Caputo

legacy-novdec08When I first became involved with NAI back in 2002, I was struck by how fully the definition of interpretation could be applied to my chosen field of visual communications. The description of a “communication process that forges emotional and intellectual connections” can certainly be applied to graphic design in its many manifestations (print, web, multimedia, etc.). NAI defines interpretation as a mission-based communication process that forges emotional and intellectual connections between the interests of the audience and the meanings inherent in the resource.

When someone makes the mistake of asking me a question about graphic design, I compare the process to developing an interpretive program. I talk about starting with an overriding concept (or theme) and making sure that every subsequent decision supports that larger concept. In graphic design, this means that when one makes decisions about type, color, composition, format, and materials, there’s no room for computer defaults or “I just thought it looked nice.” Every decision must be meaningful.

In interpretation, individual interpreters develop programs based on themes. Decisions about what and how much information to include, what activities may be appropriate, and how the program is presented all relate to this larger message. Good interpretive sites or agencies also operate with a specific goal—a mission—in mind. Every decision about what sorts of interpretive media or programs should be featured, who should conduct and oversee those programs and exhibits, and what sort of facilities should play host to visitors should all relate to the site’s or agency’s mission.

This is where the tangential field of architecture comes into play in the world of interpretation. A visitor who steps into a nature center that is designed to reinforce the importance of conservation is well on her way to a meaningful experience before she encounters a single exhibit, brochure, or interpreter. A carefully planned and designed sustainable facility accomplishes the important task of reducing or eliminating environmental damage, but it also is part of a message. It is a source of meaning.

This issue of Legacy includes three feature stories that introduce readers to outstanding natural and cultural interpretive facilities that practice what they preach. Jay T. Schneider’s “The Land Ethic in the 21st Century” tells the story of the first building recognized by Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design (LEED) as carbon-neutral in operation—the Aldo Leopold Legacy Center in Baraboo, Wisconsin. The site honors the memory of Aldo Leopold and his ground-breaking work, A Sand County Almanac, not just by remembering him, but by endorsing and implementing his conservation ethic. “Eielson LEEDS by Example” by Joshua Becker introduces readers to the Eielson Visitor Center in Denali National Park and Preserve. The building is the first designed and funded by the National Park Service to achieve a platinum LEED rating, the highest achievable. In “Rocky Mountain Green” by Katherine McIntyre, readers will discover the Squamish Lil’wat Cultural Centre in Whistler, British Columbia. The center, also LEED-certified, does not simply house the treasures of two First Nations cultures, it was designed and conceived of by members of those Nations to reflect their values.

Also in this issue, you will find an interview with Allen Washatko of the firm The Kubala Washatko Architects, Inc., responsible for the design of the Aldo Leopold Legacy Center. A commentary by Tracey M. Lewis-Giggetts, a college professor, details the next generation’s self-imposed emphasis on sustainability. And finally, the Visitor’s View by Sonya Welter takes readers to Duluth, Minnesota, for a day at the Hartley Nature Center.

In his book Understanding Media, Marshall McLuhan says, “The medium is the message.” One of the graphic design decisions related to this magazine is that it is printed on recycled paper, not just because it’s a better choice for the environment, but because it reinforces NAI’s core value to support healthy environmental practices. The sites featured in this issue have made similar decisions about their “media”; their sustainable facilities are the canvases on which their messages of conservation are painted.

Paul Caputo, art and publications director for the National Association for Interpretation and co-author of Interpretation By Design: Graphic Design Basics for Heritage Interpreters, can be reached at pcaputo@interpnet.com. Send letters to the editor intended for publication to legacy@interpnet.com.

 
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Posted in From the Editor, Sustainable Architecture in Interpretation

 

Sustainable Tourism: It’s Not that Simple

01 Sep

by Paul Caputo

legacy-septoct08“Of all the things that confuse human beings, perhaps nothing trips us up so much as what it means for something to be simple or complex.”

At first glance, this quote from Jeffrey Kluger’s book Simplexity: Why Simple Things Become Complex (and How Complex Things Can Be Made Simple) seems easily refuted. Advanced calculus: complex. Basic addition and subtraction: simple.  The science of the human digestive system: complex. Is ice cream delicious? Simple.

End of question. I win. Jeffrey Kluger loses.

It is with this approach to the world that I take to the streets on my bicycle every day for my commute to work. Biking to work: good for the environment. Driving to work: bad for the environment. Then I read something that called this frame of mind into question. By biking to work, I burn more calories than I would if I were sitting in a car. Using simple math (ha!) to figure the resources consumed to produce and transport the extra food my body requires for fuel, my environmentally friendly, fat-burning commute suddenly loses some of its luster.

It’s not that biking to work is not environmentally friendly; it’s just that it’s not that simple. Before I can consider my commute to work environmentally friendly, I must consider further choices about what type of materials my biking gear and supplies are made of, what the construction of bike trails in Fort Collins does to natural habitats, where my food originates, and surely many other factors that I haven’t yet thought of.

Sustainable tourism, as a concept, seems that it should be relatively simple: If you’re going to travel, patronize businesses and sites with a strong environmental ethic and don’t step on the endangered species. However, as you may have already guessed, it’s not that simple.

Sustainable tourism addresses the “triple bottom line” of environmental, social, and economic factors. A tourism destination that is truly sustainable does not simply minimize its carbon footprint and promote conservation; it preserves culture, unites communities, and provides financial benefits to those who live and work at or near a site. Consumers must consider whether the detriment to one of these bottom lines (for instance, the fuel used to travel to a site has a negative impact on the environment) outweighs the positive impact on another bottom line (the financial benefit to a community that hosts an interpretive site).

Further complicating the issue, even the terminology associated with sustainable tourism can be confusing. Green tourism, responsible tourism, contrarian travel, ecotourism, place-based tourism, and heritage tourism are just a few of the terms associated with this field. Because of a lack of consensus on specific definitions, these terms are used either interchangeably or as subsets of one another.

Then, as if this is not enough to consider, there’s “greenwashing,” a term coined in the mid-1980s by environmentalist Jay Westerveld, who was frustrated with hotels that promoted green practices but did not implement them. The term has come to encompass all organizations that use “green” buzz words to appeal to an increasingly environmentally aware public, but who do not actually implement environmentally friendly practices.

So, not only do consumers need to consider the environmental, social, and financial impacts of whatever type of socially responsible tourism they think they’re participating in, they need to investigate whether what they’re being told about the environmental practices of a particular site or business is actually true.

This issue of Legacy addresses a variety of perspectives, including the traveler wishing to engage in sustainable tourism, the tour operator that seeks to conserve the environment in which it operates, and the communities that welcome and rely upon tourists.

Like any socially responsible cause, sustainable tourism takes commitment from a variety of people and institutions, whether it’s the visitor making the determination to travel responsibly, the site or business promoting itself honestly and implementing appropriate practices, and even government agencies and leaders committing to serving their communities and protecting their natural and cultural habitat.

It’s simple, really. Or maybe it isn’t.

Paul Caputo can be reached at pcaputo@interpnet.com. Send letters to the editor intended for publication to legacy@interpnet.com.

 
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Posted in From the Editor, Sustainable Recreation and Tourism

 

A “Water Planet” Now More than Ever

01 Jul

by Paul Caputo

legacy_cover-0708-2008In the late Douglas Adams’s novel, So Long and Thanks for All the Fish, two women walk along the beach, having finally realized their lifelong dream of seeing the Pacific Ocean. One turns to the other and says, “You know, it’s not as big as I expected.”

This sort of absurdist humor is typical of Douglas Adams’s work, but in a real sense, the oceans are not as big as we think. The statistics that led Jacques-Yves Cousteau to call the Earth a “water planet” tell us that our five oceans and three seas are enormous. Oceans cover nearly three-quarters of the Earth’s surface, 90 percent of which is accounted for by three oceans, the Pacific, the Atlantic, and the Indian.

However, increasing demands on our marine habitats, as well as the immediate and tangential impacts of human activity, have forced us to realize that this seemingly immense and impenetrable resource is not only vulnerable, but vitally important to the global environment. The oceans may look big, but they are finite and their good health is essential to maintaining a delicate natural balance that affects us all.

As the human population increases, so too does the demand on resources in and near the ocean. More than half of the world’s population lives within 120 miles of the nearest coast, an area that represents only 10 percent of the planet’s land. Even those who don’t live near a coastline affect the aquatic environment, as pollutants drain to the ocean via creeks and rivers.

The so-called “Dead Zone” in the Gulf of Mexico fluctuates in size, sometimes growing almost as large as the state of New Jersey. This nearly lifeless area is caused largely by fertilizers that drain from rivers in the interior United States. Algae that consume the nutrients in the fertilizers flourish, then are consumed by bacteria that absorb the oxygen in the water, leaving none for fish or shellfish in the gulf. Along the Louisiana coast and in other parts of the world, dead zones have not only impacted the environment, but crippled communities that depend on the fishing and shrimping industries.

It has long been understood that each individual ocean or sea is a unique and delicate ecosystem, susceptible to collapsing or drastically changing upon the most subtle imbalance. What is becoming increasingly clear is that the oceans and seas are part of a larger, global ecosystem, just as delicate and just as susceptible.

Some of the articles in this issue tell the stories of how specific species like walruses, sea horses, turtles, and albatross have been affected by human activity. Each of these animals is a cog in a wheel, a piece of the environmental puzzle that should matter to all of us, not just in an abstract “Wouldn’t it be sad if there were no walruses?” way, but in a real, “What happens to the whole system if one of these important pieces is removed from the equation?” sort of way.

There was a time when thinking about the environment seemed like an exercise in abstraction—even more so if you were asking a person who may never see the ocean to think about the marine environment. The health of the oceans didn’t matter to someone in Wakeeney, Kansas, unless they were planning a beach vacation. Now we know not only that our actions affect the oceans no matter where we live, but that we are directly affected by the health of the oceans.

As I sit in my office in Fort Collins, Colorado, roughly 800 miles from the nearest ocean, I know that the decisions I make in my daily life have consequences that affect the seas, either directly or indirectly. The fates of the animals whose stories are told in the pages to follow matter—they are part of an ocean habitat that is the foundation of our global ecosystem—and we can make choices to help protect them.

 
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Posted in From the Editor, Stewardship of the Oceans

 
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