I’m excited to announce my involvement in Day of Public Humanities (#DayofPH), a public humanities initiative about public humanities. So meta! When I started working at the John Nicholas Brown Center for Public Humanities and Cultural Heritage, I inevitably got questions from friends in and beyond academic contexts about what this “public humanities” thing is and what kind of work I do. Many of us here get these questions, so myself, Robyn Schroeder (Postdoctoral Fellow and Director of Graduate Studies in Public Humanities), and Inge Zwart (graduate student in Public Humanities) decided to spend the past year researching the term, its uses, its limits, its past, present, and future. While doing this work, we became particularly interested in how and why public humanities practitioners came to embrace the term “public humanities” and what forms of labor they do on a daily basis. Like the Day of Digital Humanities (#DayofDH) initiative, #DayofPH asks practitioners to make their labor visible, reflect on the field and where it’s going, and show people what cool things they’re up to. We hope you can join us on May 9th, 2017!
You can learn more about #DayofPH on our web site. Specifically, you can find suggestions for how to participate on May 9th, blog posts highlighting some of the day-to-day work we do here at the JNBC, and recommendations for further action before and after May 9th. We also talk about the project on the JNBC blog. We’re excited to see what other people are working on, what “public humanities” means to them, and how we might all learn to become better Public Humans.
I’m happy to answer any questions you might have about this project on Twitter (@JimMc_Grath) or via email (james_mcgrath[at]brown). And if you’re attending NCPH next week, I’ll be there too, so please get in touch if you’d like more info!
Last year at HILT, I pitched a project (as part of the “Community Keynote” series of lightning talks) examining images of New York City in the Marvel Universe, and I got a lot of good feedback from the people in attendance. I’ve been juggling a million things between then and now, but today I finally found time to create (and start to populate) New York City and The Marvel Universe, a Tumblr “work-in-progress” research blog tied to this research. I hope you’ll check it out and let me know what you think!
The blog will mostly be excepts from particular comics and research materials and some thinking out loud about various topics. I’ve decided to start with Daredevil (The Man Without Fear!) because he’s explicitly connected to a particular part of NYC (Hell’s Kitchen) and many creative teams have set their stories in interesting (and weird) versions of New York City over the years. I’m also particularly drawn to Daredevil because of the Netflix TV show and its ever-expanding Hell’s Kitchen, so I imagine my work will also look at those images of the city eventually. I’m looking at the early days of the character: the above image is from 1964’s Daredevil #2, a particularly nutty issue that I talk a bit about over at the blog. But I’m also reading across time periods to bring images and creative teams into conversation with one another (here’s an example of that).
Beyond Daredevil, I’ll be looking at the Fantastic Four, Spider-Man, The Punisher, Ghost Rider, The Avengers, and some other NYC-centric books (like Power Man and Iron Fist, Hawkeye, and Damage Control, among others).
I’ve been a comics nerd for a long time, and as someone who was born and raised in Brooklyn I’ve always been fascinated by the uses of the city in these stories. For various reasons I haven’t done much work with comics in academic contexts, but I’m excited to finally have a project that dovetails with my professional life a bit. While I wouldn’t say this work will be explicitly driven by digital humanities methodologies and approaches, I’m currently building some (rough) datasets and I’m thinking about how I might visualize and otherwise make use of this material on this site and in other forms of traditional and not-so-traditional scholarship. I’m also working with various editions (print and digital) of comics and thinking a bit about the material conditions of these sites of publication, circulation, and reception. This work is also very much informed by my various experiences with online comics fandom, a long history of engagement that began on Prodigy bulletin boards, continued into the blogging boom of the early aughts (I’ve buried my old Blogger site, sorry guys), and lives on via my “unprofessional” Twitter account and in @CK1Blogs, long may he blog.
Stay tuned, True Believers!
Last week, the John Nicholas Brown Center for Public Humanities and Cultural Heritage joined a number of other universities in a Frederick Douglass birthday party transcribe-a-thon to support the (awesome) Colored Conventions Project. I wrote about how our day went over at the JNBC blog:
Transcription may seem like a mundane or even dated way to contribute to a digital project in the twenty-first century: can’t scholars and archivists use optical character recognition (OCR) software to extract text from scanned documents? As someone who has worked on a number of digitization projects, I can tell you that the technology we imagine to be freely available doesn’t always match the realities of doing digital humanities scholarship, and the available resources can vary from project to project. While we are right to be suspicious of third-party platforms, apps, and social networks that ask for our personal data in exchange for use of their services, we are often not required to think as much about the labor that goes into the creation and support of our shiny digital interfaces. Do you know how Google Docs handle collaborative writing across a range of devices and issues related to version control when they arise as you’re drafting something? Have you ever wondered what makes Clippy so useful (or annoying)? Exposure to the nuts and bolts of a digital project like CCP can often help us gain new perspectives on the materiality of the web, the technical dimensions of systems and actions we take for granted, and the challenges of doing public-facing digital work that circulates alongside well-funded and well-oiled machines made by Google and other heavyweights on the web at-large
It was fun and easy to collaborate with the CCP: I was particularly impressed by how much work they put into ensuring that their remote collaborators had everything they needed to make their events run smoothly. They’re a fantastic model for how to do public-facing digital humanities work within and across institutions, and I hope to work more with them in the future! It was also great to get some of our students, faculty, and community affiliates working on and thinking about the labor involved in digitization projects.
An idealized image of a backchannel imagines it as “augmenting” a primary channel in ways that do not mock, reject or impolitely critique what is happening on the main stage. This, of course, is not how backchannels tend to work in practice, and in fact, one of the perceived benefits of backchannel mechanisms is their ability to reveal and amplify concerns that might otherwise be muted or silent among the community using these channels. For example, one of the earliest reports on the impact of a digital backchannel I’ve found (via Wikipedia’s article on backchannels) describes a particular backchannel mechanism (liveblogging! remember liveblogging?) as “high-tech heckling.” Specifically, at a March 2002 PC Forum meeting, two journalists liveblogging an interview with Qwest Telecommunications CEO Joe Nacchio contextualized their coverage of Nacchio’s complaints about a lack of capital with information (received via email from readers of the liveblogs) about Nacchio’s recent stock sales, painting the CEO in an unflattering light with an immediacy that transformed the interview’s networked audience at PC Forum into a visibly “hostile” one after it read the blog. The language used to describe the implementation of backchannels in this article is at times condescending (the references to “heckling” and the presence of a “peanut gallery”) but it is also optimistic regarding their impact (“It should also raise the quality of the questions, allowing the shy to express themselves clearly, the slow to upload a coherent comment with one click and the self-promoters and hand-wavers to expose themselves”).
Source: Our Marathon
Note: The following post is adapted from remarks I gave at the 2016 American Studies Association Conference on a panel titled “Home Screens: Digitizing Belonging and Place in American Studies.” Thanks to my fellow presenters and attendees for their participation, to Alicia Peaker and the rest of the Our Marathon project team, and to Carrie Johnston for organizing the panel.
In his remarks at an interfaith prayer service in Boston on April 18th, 2013, three days after the Boston Marathon bombings, President Barack Obama noted more than once to his audience that “Boston may be your hometown, but we claim it, too.” In the hours, days, and weeks following the events of April 15th, 2013, many people used social media to document how “at home” they feel or once felt in Boston.
I’m interested in ideas of home and digital spaces in the context of Our Marathon: The Boston Bombing Digital Archive. Our Marathon, a community project hosted by Northeastern University, is a crowdsourced digital archive of close to ten thousand stories, photos, and social media about the 2013 Boston Marathon bombings and their aftermath. I started working on it as a graduate student research assistant in May of 2013, became Project Co-Director (with Alicia Peaker, now at Bryn Mawr) in the fall of that year, and I continue to work on it as we preserve our digital assets and make them more accessible in the short and long-term via Northeastern’s Digital Repository Service.
Slide by Jim McGrath
I’m particularly interested in discussing Our Marathon and what it might tell us about home and digital regionalism, home and digital archives, and home and digital public humanities.
Editor’s Note: I’m migrating some content from older web presences onto my current site. I’m currently (December 2016) re-watching Fringe as I spend some time home for the holidays, so I wanted to re-visit this post I originally wrote back in April 2011.
Possible SPOILERS up to Season 3 of Fringe.
Fringe is one of my (many) guilty pleasures these days. I say “guilty pleasure” because while I enjoy many elements of the show, its apparent investment in a strictly-ordered universe — most immediately present in the show’s warring alternate realities and the creepy, Powder-times-Data-divided-by-The Adjustment Bureau dudes who seem to be monitoring and / or running the show — remind me of an element of science fiction and fantasy narratives that I wish we could get beyond: The Chosen One(s) tasked with restoring order to a world that is both “broken” and capable of “fixing.”
I wrote about my experiences doing digital humanities work as a graduate student over at Common-place. Here’s a snippet:
While I’ve heard that the phrase “public humanities” makes some people want to set their hair on fire, I’ve found that the investments many digital humanities practitioners place in public-facing work have been particularly important, and I try to explore the various implications and challenges of doing public humanities work in my courses and in my own projects. My work in Brown’s Public Humanities program at times might begin (and sometimes end) with digital initiatives aimed entirely at non-academic audiences (i.e. audiences who might not be looking to use materials or data for their own academic projects or publications). Or it might entail working with a range of collaborators—librarians, community organizations, undergraduates, archivists—with various ideas about the kinds of intellectual labor they’re invested in, interests that don’t always privilege scholarly monographs or the critical lenses privileged by my graduate training in, say, an English department. These digital projects require skill in project management and development, attention to design choices and interfaces and their impact on user experiences, knowledge of long-term preservation issues, and discussions about various forms of public engagement, among other factors.
Common-place is primarily intended for early American Studies scholars, but I think this piece may be of interest to DH folks doing work outside that particular field as well. The roundtable discussion is made up entirely of recent graduates and current grad students from Northeastern University (all of whom were former NULab fellows as well!), and it documents graduate student experiences at at a moment in the school’s institutional history when its community of digital humanities scholars and researchers (including, of course, Northeastern’s awesome librarians and archivists!) was just starting to materialize. Anyway, it was fun to write: thanks to Liz, Ben, and Abby, as well as Ed Whitley, Kathy Foley, and the good people of Common-place.
the heartbreak n00b
The weekend of August 19-21 was pretty busy for professional wrestling fans. WWE set up shop at the Barclays Center for not one, but two major shows: NXT Takeover: Brooklyn II, a showcase for its “minor league” developmental brand, and SummerSlam, one of the main roster’s biggest events of the year. There was a ton of exciting in-ring action: the “Glorious” debut of Bobby Roode, Charlotte’s reclaiming of the WWE Women’s Championship from “The Boss” Sasha Banks, “The Phenomenal One” A.J. Styles beating up John Cena, the brutal and bloody (and, it turns out, completely staged, though some wrestlers were as fooled as fans were) outcome of a showdown between “The Viper” Randy Orton’s head and the meat-tenderizing hands of The Beast Incarnate, Brock Lesnar. But outside the ring, another story began circulating online: Twitter accounts @deathtoallmarks (DTAM), @SenorLariato, and @WrestlinGifs, three of online wrestling fandom’s main sources for “live GIFs” (fan-created GIFs of wrestling-related content that appeared online during live telecasts), had been suspended.
After moving operations over to a secondary account on Monday, Lariato noted that Twitter’s decision was made in response to DMCA complaints about several SummerSlam GIFs. Lariato said that Friend MTS, a UK-based “global provider of platform, channel, and content protection services,” was the apparent source of the objections (WWE initially denied making the complaints to at least one journalist, but wrestling journalist Dave Meltzer claims the company is behind the suspensions and that they were motivated by SummerSlam content). Several wrestlers tweeted about the removal of these prominent wrestling GIF-providers, including WWE Superstars Xavier Woods and Big E, former WWE superstar (and current TNA megastar) Matt Hardy, and Bullet Club tag team sensation The Young Bucks. Echoing many fans, Matt Jackson of The Bucks argued that the act of “live-GIF’ing” is not just an essential component of online wrestling fandom, but also a key tool of “any [form of] entertainment” invested in social media engagement.