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Material Culture and Artefacts, with Lessons from Volumes 1-6
Bernard Finn, Smithsonian Institution
The rapid rise of academic interest in “material culture,” not surprisingly, was welcomed by museums—if for no other reason than that it helped to justify their basic obsession with objects. Just how the new scholarly approach would affect museum practice was not readily apparent, but by now this much can be said for history museums: reinforcing a trend already encouraged by the new social history, it has had a significant impact in both the collecting process and exhibits-- where social (or cultural) context for the former and social themes for the latter have become increasingly important and in some cases dominant.
This has special meaning for museums of technology and science, which since the Second World War, have turned increasingly to professionally-trained historians for the interpretation of their collections. One of the traditional approaches—explaining science (and technology) to the public—has been largely ceded to science centers (or segregated in non-historical exhibition spaces). And simple chronological displays, as well as biographical celebrations, have lost appeal. The new curators have turned to social themes—not only because of the academic popularity, but also because they offer a straightforward means of connecting with the public. Furthermore, expression of the impact of science and technology on society (the most frequent approach) is clearly important.
Four recent major exhibits in the National Museum of American History—on land transportation, water transportation, science, and military history [ref websites, reviews]—illustrate this trend. They are appealing to the public, are generally effective in expressing their themes, and contain many objects (probably more than the exhibits they replaced). The objects are employed, however, almost exclusively for their symbolic value: a helicopter to express the impact of technology on warfare, DDT as an illustration for statements about the impact science can have on the environment, a boxcar (reproduction) in a section about the impact of the railroad on agriculture.
A principle purpose of Artefacts has been to explore ways that objects can contribute to scholarly studies, and hopefully to exhibits. In our meetings and in our publications it is obvious that the iconographic value can be very important. But there a number of other ways, many of them familiar (especially to archaeologists), some special to science and technology. An examination of the first six volumes of the Artefacts book series (now available on this website) reveals several of them; a list can be found in the following pages. Hopefully this will provoke historians, and especially curators, to take a fresh view of objects, for ways they can be employed not just to illustrate historical themes but also to provide substantive evidence in support of those themes. And, as a result, members of the public may be encouraged to take a fresh look at their surroundings.
Lessons from Artefacts
Objects have been used by historians in a number of ways in their publications. The following categories have been compiled from an examination of essays in the first seven volumes of the book series Artefacts, with some additions. The listing in each category begins with the Artefacts examples, followed by citations from elsewhere in the literature. Art 1, Art 2, etc., are references to the Artefacts volumes; for complete titles see below.
We hope this list will be suggestive for academic historians when they consider sources for their studies. For museum curators we hope it will be helpful in considering collections policies and in developing exhibits.
1. Association. Brooke Hindle asked “How much is the true cross worth?”[1] and the answer is quite a bit. Even a casual walk through a museum demonstrates the power of objects to symbolize, through association, a person or a place or an event and to provide the observer with a powerful direct connection to the past. Museums trade heavily on showing objects that can raise emotions in visitors because they can be identified with familiar people or events. This is true for small units within an exhibition up to an entire museum. Visitors respond emotionally to this attachment, often with very positive educational results. One needs to be careful of this approach, however, not to reinforce old stereotypes in emphasizing what is already well known. Curators, of course, are not immune from this effect. Which suggests that some care should be taken to be certain that the emotion is shared by others.
Helmuth Trischler (A-6) shows how the ASTRIS rocket stage was in turn a symbol of European collaboration, of technical development, and finally of failure. For Martin Collins (A-6) the iridium satellite system was a symbol of the post cold war period, as well as an example of technological system with special manufacturing challenges.
The association can become so strong (either by circumstance or design) that an object achieves the status of an icon. Thus Alan Morton (A-2) shows how J. J. Thomson, in donating a cathode ray tube to the Science Museum probably overstated its significance so that it could more directly represent his measurement of the charge-to-mass ratio of the electron. Later, at the 1924-5 Imperial Exhibition, the tube was used by the government to represent pure science. David Rhees and Tom Jeffries (A-2) show how a version of Earl Bakken’s cardiac pacemaker which might properly be seen as an incremental step in the inventive process was later promoted by its inventor, and by the company, as the symbol of a critical breakthrough. And Paul Ceruzzi (A-2) explains that the circular design of the Cray computer gained nothing in terms of speed, because in fact it was not a closed circle; but whatever the original intent may have been it did achieve iconic status. Peter Lyth (A-3) provides an example where raising an object to iconic status can have adverse consequences: the British government, as an attempt was made to leapfrog American advances in jet aircraft technology, promoted the Comet---the failure of which thus became a more visible disaster than otherwise would have been the case.
2. Sense of time, place.
Objects can provide a connection to the past, but it usually takes a room or a house or plot of ground to embrace the senses sufficiently so that one has a true feeling for it.
An example is the launching site, Woomera, in Australia; though, significantly, its development as a popular historic site was stimulated only after some of the objects (crashed missile stages) were retrieved from the surrounding countryside.
4. Mere existence and distribution. This is the bread-and butter value for archaeology, as it is for historians of technology working in pre-historic periods. But even if the written record is substantial, the physical object provides confirmation that it was actually constructed, and the degree to which construction conformed to concept. The number of objects that survive, and where they are found can also provide evidence beyond the written record.
Vining and Hacker (A-5) find that surviving uniforms provide solid documentation of the extraordinary range of organizations that American joined during the First World War.
The transparent man in Klaus Vogel’s article (A-1) turned out to be immensely popular with museums, with 114 recorded as having been produced between 1945 and 97. But the pre-war records are incomplete, and primary evidence comes from surviving examples. It would also be interesting to know whether the post-war preference for women (67 to 47) was matched in this earlier period. For Kim Pelis (A-1) the existence of a manufactured example of Blundell’s transfusion apparatus is evidence that his ideas were credible to contemporaries, and for Ghisline Lawrence (A-1) the lack of multiple copies of Drew’s equipment is evidence that his invention was not accepted. Patricia Gossel (A-1) collected numerous variations of the birth-control pill package, clearly indicating that this was an idea that had great appeal. And John Guilmartin (A-5) draws conclusions from the distribution of cannon on the ocean floor.
Somewhat different is Paul Forman’s (A-2) example of three objects associated with I. I. Rabi’s early molecular beam researches. Rabi had insisted that nothing had survived from these experiments, but these were found among his papers and effects after his death. Forman is more concerned with their connection to the experiments, but it is interesting at least to consider why Rabi kept them.
3. Workmanship. The skill with which an object has been produced can say much not only about the craftsman but also about what was deemed socially (or economically) acceptable.
The transparent man again provides us with an example. The care with which details of human anatomy were reproduced in these models is a testimony to the abilities of the craftsmen, but it also provides a reason why the models were popular and a measure of their educational value. It is hard not to be impressed by need for exacting manufacturing techniques in the micro-chips analyzed by Ross Bassett (A-2) or the remarkably precise 17th-century canon-boring abilities indicated by Guilmartin’s measurements. The equally skillful design on the exterior of these guns provides evidence of the willingness of a government to pay for aesthetic embellishments. Bernard Finn (A-2) suggests that the lack of skill with which Morse’s original telegraph instrument was made tells us something about the inventor’s abilities, but is also evidence of his economic circumstances which made it impossible him to pay for someone else to construct an instrument.
4. Design. For our purposes, the most important implication of design is intent. One can frequently tell more about what the maker wanted to do by looking at the object than by reading published or unpublished accounts. Regardless of intention, design may be a critical element in telling how effective the artifact was.
Lawrence skillfully analyzes Drew’s blood-cooling apparatus to show how it was designed to keep the surgeon (Drew) completely in charge of all aspects of the operation–clearly at odds with the teamwork approach increasingly being practiced by his contemporaries. The upstretched arms of the transparent mannequins are evidence for Vogel of the desire of the manufacturer to appeal to National Socialism. For Gossel the importance of the pill package is a clear indication that birth control was as much a matter of social acceptability (ease of use) as it was of science. Johannes Abele (A-1) finds that the design of German radiation detectors say much about concepts of social control and attitudes towards public safety in that country (in the meeting at which this paper was presented it was interesting to listen to contrasting comments by British and American historians).
Bassett argues persuasively that the reason why Lee Boysel’s AL1 integrated circuit did not receive the designation of “computer on a chip” because he (Boysel) did not conceive of it as being used in universal fashion. Yet the design was closer to meriting such a claim than Intel’s 4004 and 8008 chips, which with their multiple connections demonstrated the need for ancillary functions. Bernard Finn compares contemporary telegraph and telephone instruments devised by Alexander Graham Bell and Elisha Gray, showing how divergences in their designs indicate that where Bell saw the commercial possibilities of speech transmission Gray saw an interesting but non-profitable dead end.
Kurt Moser (A-3) provides an interesting example where design reveals evidence of appealing to social relationships. In early automobiles the separate functions of driver, mechanic and passenger were explicitly separated in the interior design of the vehicle. He goes on to argue that where much attention has been given to the exterior design of cars, too little has been given to the interior, where the human-machine interface is much more intimate.
Martin Collins (A-6) remarks on the unusual “open door” of the iridium satellite, a feature that allowed easy access in the manufacture of this mass-produced device.
5. Size. This is clearly a category which implies comparison, either between different contemporary objects or between similar objects separated by time (thus perhaps illustrating the effects of an evolving technology).
Philip Scranton (A-6) is impressed by the cramped interior space of the Mercury capsule. Bart Hacker (A-5) similarly uses objects from a submarine to emphasize the close quarters of its interior.
6. Material. The materials used in objects can help to define cultures, identify trade routes, cultural values.
Guilmartin argues that a compelling reason for the use of bronze, which was lighter but more expensive than cast iron, in the guns he examined is that the ship that carried them was designed to operate in distant waters—because it was worth the higher price for the reduction in weight.
7. Evidence of use. In this category I am thinking primarily of wear and tear on an object that may give an indication of how it was manipulated and under what conditions. Nothing in the Artefacts volumes quite fits this description, and rather than expanding the scope of my search let me refer again to the Portuguese gunship.
Four English guns in Guilmartin’s wreck had clearly been recycled; one was at least eighty-five years old when installed and others well over a hundred years, thus providing evidence of the long service life that good bronze ordnance could have.
8. Learning by doing. Repeating an experiment can be very revealing—showing the difficulties involved, the importance of certain previously-unidentified factors, the significance of luck. Occasionally it can show that the original experimenter was mistaken, or even lied.
Klaus Staubermann (A6), in working with lantern slides, came to feel the significance of the whole process of projection, and in particular the importance of the skill of the demonstrator. Also that the quality of the slides was more important than the quality of the projection apparatus.
Similarly, Peter Heering emphasizes the importance of preparation of slides for the solar microscope and the critical role of the presenter, emphasizing that one can best get a feeling for the impact of the total experience through reenactment.
9. Emotion, of the historical person. Sometimes an object can provide insights into the emotional attachment its owner (collector) or user may have had for it.
There are few examples of this in our volumes. We have, in item (1) above, J. J. Thomson and Earl Bakken, who are accused of arbitrarily selecting their own icons; but they may in fact have had a real affection for these items. And, as mentioned above, the preservation of Rabi’s relics may have had some significance as yet unknown to us.
10. Comparisons. An object may seem to be of no particular interest by itself yet gains considerable significance when placed alongside others to illustrated similarities or differences. Most of the authors start with objects that can be considered valuable by themselves. However, the argument being made frequently depends on comparisons.
This is true of Hartmut Petzold (A-2) in describing the evolution of Wihelm Cauer’s mathematical devices, for Bassett and his analysis of microchips, for Helena Wright (A-4) in looking at graphic reproduction techniques, and Kelly DeVries and Robert Smith (A-5) in their analysis of 15th-century gunpowder weapons.
11. Context. An object can provide insights into the person who owned or made it as well as to the time, location and general conditions of its history. But the converse is also true: if we know its pedigree, its context, we are apt to learn more about it and to look at it with a fresh set of questions.
Kerrie Dougherty tells how the rocket debris assembled at Woomera is interesting to visitors largely because of accompanying descriptions of the difficult circumstances surrounding their recovery.
12. What objects say about museums. Objects on display can tell us much about a museum: the scope and depth of its collections, the biases in its approach to history, the resources available for interpretation. But to be fair one should look beyond the exhibits, which may reflect only a current emphasis, to the collections themselves.
Asif Siddiqi (A-6) sees the objects in Soviet space museums as icons expressing nationalistic “firsts.”
13. Elements of popular culture. Objects can influence or be influenced by current cultural norms.
Stauberman describes how slide shows were significant in making science part of popular culture, noting how it was not unusual to have science slides mixed in with travelogues. Also that the demonstrator had to be skillful in adjusting the presentation to different audiences. Sean Johnston (A-6) finds that difficulties in exhibiting holography, as well as the limited practical uses found for it, helped to make it more interesting as a feature of popular culture than of science.
14. Inspiration. Finally: whether common or unique, peculiar or plain, with a special association or devoid of any special links, an object can pique our curiosity and inspire us to engage in extraordinary activity. Ironically, if the result is a publication or an exhibit, the originating object may have long since become irrelevant and hardly be mentioned in the final product. Or it may have been discovered to fit neatly into one of the categories above. In either case it is welcomed into the collections, hopefully to inspire someone else in the future.
Examples of such inspiration from the pages of Artefacts are numerous. It is hard to be sure where any particular piece of research began (authors were not interviewed for this article), but the majority of Artefacts contributions appear to have had their origins in the consideration of a physical object. As examples, Vogel was stimulated by a full-scale model of a “transparent man” to investigate its origins and meanings, and Christine Finn (A-5) was compelled by the survival of World War II fortifications to look more deeply at their post-war meaning. Not surprisingly, we have several instances where curators found themselves pushed into investigations by their collections. Pelis followed a trail that began with some early blood-transfusion apparatus and Lawrence similarly pursued the track left by Charles Drew’s hypothermia machine. Among other examples are Alan Morton and a cathode ray tube, Michael Bailey and John Glithero (A-3) with the “Rocket,” Cornelia Kemp (A-4) and Ernst Kohlrausch’s chronograph, Katherine Ott (A-5) and the Smithsonian’s medical prosthetics collection, and Collins and the Iridium satellite.
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Footnote. 1. Brooke Hindle, "How Much is a Piece of the True Cross Worth?" in Ian Quimby (ed), Material Culture and the Study of American Life (Winterthur, 1978), 5-20.