History Begins At Home : Remember

I have lived in only one location my entire life: Edwardsville, Illinois. A peripheral suburb of St. Louis, it stands as the rare oasis of people in a desert of corn, pinned in its own personal bubble. Due to this blend of time and isolation, I developed a natural familiarity with my hometown. But, throughout my childhood, I longed to break free from the confines of the bubble and venture outward. However, this changed last summer, as I walked through Richards Brickyard, our family heirloom, that my great-grandfather, Benjamin Richards, founded over 120 years ago. I felt these childlike sentiments slip away. The bubble that had surrounded me for so long began to vanish, and the picture that it had been obscuring was slowly revealed.

The Myrtles Plantation can be understood as a site of dehumanization. It is located in St. Francisville, Louisiana. David Bradford built the plantation in 1794 on an ancient Tunica Indian burial gound (The Moonlight Road). After his death, the property was passed down to different family members and own by various other families (The Myrtles Plantation). The house is rumoured to be the site for more than 10 murders and suicides and at least 12 ghosts (The Myrtles Plantation). The plantation was built on an ancient Indigenous burial land and it was home to a number of different families who owned Black slaves. Thus, the plantation is haunted not only by instances of terror, but is also haunted by these histories of violence. The house and property conjures feelings of hate, disrespect and the belittling of others. From the hanging of Black slaves to the mysterious murders and happenings of the house, The Myrtles Plantation invokes feelings of unresolved social and economic violence. The haunting of The Myrtles Planation does not simply refer to the unrest of certain sprits but rather it is haunted by the inherent dehumanization of certain bodies on the basis of race, gender, and class. Thus, this paper will be an analysis of The Myrtles Planation as a haunted house. It will prove that The Myrtles Plantation is haunted by the histories of violence and oppression that occurred within the space, which manifests through ghosts and sprits that are eternally subjected to unrest due

Two examples that I find especially thought provoking are the Danziger studio and the Goldwyn Library. Built to blend into the local surroundings, the luxury residence was given a humble, rough exterior. Davis' explains that the rough exterior of the architecture reflects the underlying social phenomenon of "repression, surveillance and exclusion"(Davis, 224) that collectively forms the "fragmented, paranoid spatiality"(Davis, 229 ) that LA embodies. Moreover, The house's "camouflage"(Davis, 229 ) exterior creates a stark contrast to its luxurious interior, which places further emphasis on the exclusion and barrier between the "opulent"(Davis, 256) interior and the "rough"(Davis, 224 ) environment. I find Davis' assessment of the Daziger studio particularly agreeable and accurate as I truly believe that an architecture, its purpose and characteristic, sheds light to not only its physical environment but also its social environment, something that might not necessarily be as apparent. On the other hand, I find Davis' assessment of the Goldwyn library rather exaggerated. Judging from photos taken, the fifteen foot security wall is not as grotesque and 'fear-imposing' as Davis puts it. Davis described the library as "baroquely fortified...menacing...bizarre"(Davis, 246) and "paranoid"(Davis, 251). Although security and 'vandal-proof'' maybe, as Davis suggested, the initial goal of the design, I do not believe that it is as exaggerated as Davis

On May 3rd when I visited the site where the Norman Blumberg Housing Project once stood, the air was hauntingly peaceful. I had read about the notoriety of the site during my research, how over its existence it had become an area of concentrated poverty and crime, but on this day this urban setting was quiet and calm. On the two square city blocks where a complex of apartment buildings once ruled the landscape, only a single high-rise remained among the unchecked wild grass. However, even in the peacefulness of this day in Sharswood, the looming presence of the infamous Norman Blumberg Apartments could still be felt.

In the book “Code of the Street” introduction, the author Elijah Anderson gives you an outlook on how a city can go from wealth and poverty in just five miles. Anderson’s ethnographic portrayal of urban life in black America through a journey down Philadelphia’s historic Germantown Ave, which connects the appreciation of newly suburban Chestnut Hill and Philly’s main line with the generally less civil society of Germantown proper and its outlying ghetto’s, where a code of the street old as poverty and oppression itself governs the interactions of both willing and unwilling members. The story starts in Chestnut Hill which is often called "the suburb in the city," and finishes in the Northern Liberties subdivision.

Rd 145 soon became an integral part of everyday life in Birdseye, Indiana. Home to multiple general stores, a variety of hometown restaurants,and a hall for the Modern Woodmen of America (Huff 1), this edifice served as a gathering place for all residents, past and present, throughout its 123 year lifetime. Now nearing the end of its lifecycle once again, this unique building awaits the chance to undergo an extensive restoration to reveal its former grandeur, because as Helmut Jahn once said, “Every building is a prototype. No two are alike,” (Demakis 12). Preserving this crumbling Italianate gem will not only provide a cultural hotspot for the town of Birdseye; it will give residents the opportunity to learn about the structure’s illustrious past and the history of the town itself while also telling the stories of many past residents and the challenges they

The experience of visiting the Dyckman Farm House & Museum gave me the opportunity to have an understanding of how beautiful and soundless the city was. Similarly to what George J. Demko said on his essay “A Sense of Place”, “All places change. They change in themselves and they change relative to other places, and they may cause in other places. We may imagine there are certain places magically untouched by time or change.” This quotation indeed relates to the sense of magic surrounded to the Dyckman Farm House & Museum and how this old colonial-styled house is in the middle of subways, bus stations and buildings, yet it feels like time has not changed. The experience of visiting the Dyckman Farm House and Museum meant

In the communities I grew up in, there were frequent changing circumstances that actually left my family not really as part of the community. From dingy, cheap and tiny places for rent, there has been significant points brought to the attention of the reader in this book that could attribute to the failure and success of neighborhoods. In Suburban Nation, the opening pages give a lot of insight on the issues that can come from these big and fancy, new housing developments.

In this paper, I will be outlining the costs and benefits of social and technological fixes, and then I will be assessing the use of social and technological fixes of air pollution through the use of automobiles.

People hold on to pieces of jewelry, furniture, and other symbolic collectables that is passed through generations. These things can remind a person of a loved one that is seen as being priceless.

Goffman states that "it is clear that accentuated facts make their appearance...it should be just as clear that there may be another region...where the suppressed facts make an appearance” (Goffman 53). The accentuated facts of the renovation of the boardwalk overshadow the suppressed facts of the underfunded communities that continue to suffer in the wake of the storm. The communities of Coney Island have a front and back space within themselves; the front space is literally what can be seen from the outside, and the back space is what is truly going on behind closed doors. In Little Odessa it seemed as if there was no clear divide between front and back space; garbage and rubble from the insides of destroyed buildings litter the streets with no evident attempt to conceal it. The back space of Coney Island communities has leaked out and seeped into the front space; the communities are unable to conceal their back space. According to the U.S census, one in four residents of Coney Island is impoverished, this explains the muddled line between front and back space within certain communities; residents and communities without sufficient funds are unable to restore their neighborhoods. Many residents feel they are being neglected by city planners and the New York government; it’s evident that very little has

The purpose of this paper is to highlight how Robert Hammond and Josh David’s visionary idea transformed an unused, abandoned railroad line into a spectacular green space in the sky –New York’s High Line. Hammond and David were locals who believed that tearing down the railroad line was not a good idea. Meanwhile other people in the community, including property owners and Mayor Giuliani wanted the unused railroad demolished. With the help of photographer Joel Sternfeld who captured the abandoned railroad line’s overgrown greenery and fields of wildflowers that changed with the seasons, they were able to get people to recognize that this was a green space in New York city that was worth keeping.

Throughout our lives we gradually acknowledge particular points in time which we once considered to be irrelevant. Personally, I take joy from experiencing each odd infant flashback I subconsciously keep a hold of. Undoubtedly, the memories we tend to prioritise are our own, however hearing stories from the past referring to animate or even inanimate objects is something which sparks up our curiosity. I recognise how our generation is continuously striving to produce new platforms for the preservation and presentation of our experiences. As a result, I feel we lose track of what we can label as 'valuable'. I intend to explore the idea of constructed memories in comparison to those which are real and to show how the value of a memory may be determined. I am set to learn about our naturally implanted false memories and to identify where their value lies. This will require me to have a personal connection with my audience. I am prepared to hold interviews as the subject is fairly exclusive. My research will include content from 'The Design of Everyday Things'. The book is crammed with the author's life encounters with regards to poorly designed objects and their lack of visual clues. I want to expand on my research concerning the photographer, Gregory Crewdson and to understand how his distortions of set scenes using Photoshop allows us to perceive a false memory. Film and photography will be

Upon hearing the man’s response, Greg felt absolutely delighted. Many antique dealers and shop owners were, understandably, interested in making large amounts of money from the items that they sold. However, when his new companion started to explain that he believed memories should remain housed together, Greg started to believe that he had found a kindred spirit. It was cruel, unusual, and unnecessary to separate objects that told a story. Especially in regard to memorabilia from a century or more ago. When artefacts managed to survive decades and decades together, it seemed like such an anticlimax to purposefully disconnect them. They may have weathered storage, use, or neglect, and yet man would still wilfully destroy their narrative. From

However, his argument surrounding archives as place of power and silence give enticing perspectives on some of the issues that plague the field of archival studies. Although Carter provides many plausible solutions for archivists in ensuring that the silences created are “read against the grain” or actively sought by archivists in an attempt to work with marginalised groups to collect their records and preserve them into the archive and more broadly the “collective memory”. However, his ideas on the feminist literary tactic of subversion of adding the marginalised voice to the mainstream archive without a systems and institutions such as the theme-based archive, will inevitably result in the loss of the voice of those silenced. Although it can be argued that the marginalised can transmit their culture, history, records and voices in other forms such as oral traditions or material artefacts as seen in the Indigenous example, these non-literary forms of record-keeping face the possibility of disappearing with the last transmission holders. The “power of silence” does appear to be an act of freedom according to Carter, but at what cost? It is a question that might be worth asking these marginalised groups by archivists when attempting to reach out and possible create a community based solution to keeping records and collective memory from disappearing forever. As a final insight,