[As part of our
annual Virginia trip last summer, the boys and I—and AmericanStudier
madre—visited Colonial Williamsburg for
the first time. So this week I’ll AmericanStudy some different histories and
elements that are part of that complex and compelling historic site. Add your
thoughts, on Williamsburg or other historic sites, in comments!]
On the
compelling interpretations, and important absence, at my boys’ two favorite
sites.
Colonial
Williamsburg has a striking number of
historic sites and spaces spread out over its 173 acres, most of which
feature on-site costumed interpreters (ones not limited, in their conversations
with visitors, to the knowledge and perspectives of the historical moment they’re
portraying, like those
at Plimoth Plantation are, but nonetheless seeking in both their physical
appearance and actions and their voices and words to recreate the late 18th
century). Which sites are open and which feature interpreters varies from day
to day and season to season, making the site especially worth return visits to
explore different sides of its many streets and sections. On our late August
2015 visit, as you might expect, my then 9 and 8 year old sons were
particularly drawn to two such sites and interpretations: the Magazine, which
recreates the arsenal at which the controversial
and crucial 1775 Gunpowder Incident occurred; and the Public Goal, which
portrays the early 18th century prison built shortly after Williamsburg became
the colony’s capital in 1699.
These two sites,
and the interpreters we encountered at each, were especially good at presenting
the material culture side to their histories in compelling depth. The
interpreter at the Magazine used its collection of historic flintlocks and
muskets, swords and pikes, cannons and shot, and other artifacts of war to
discuss multiple historical periods: not only the Revolution and its military
histories, but also the French
& Indian War and even Bacon’s
Rebellion, linking each conflict and era to the different weaponry involved
in a way that certainly kept my sons’ interest throughout. At the Gaol we
listened to two complementary interpreters: a woman outside the building who
highlighted the cases of a number of differnet prominent 18th
century prisoners; and a man inside who guided us through the spaces provided
for both the prisonkeeper and his family and those reserved for the building’s less
fortunate inhabitants. Both of these Gaol interpreters made sustained and
excellent use of the building’s and site’s architecture to help frame for us
its identity and roles, its evolution across the 18th century, and
how this dark side of Colonial Williamsburg would have been experienced by all
the town’s residents.
Yet in truth, at
neither of these sites did these otherwise compelling interpreters quite engage
with the darkest sides to the histories represented therein. More than any
other spaces at Colonial Williamsburg, that is, the Magazine and Gaol depended
for their existence on definitions of us and them—and indeed, I would argue
that in creating and sustaining visions of threatening others (those whom the
town would need the Magazine’s weapons in order to defend itself and those
outside of the town’s laws and in need of remanding to the Gaol, respectively),
these two sites went a long way toward creating a communal identity for the
burgeoning Williamsburg populace. I know that a full engagement with such
historical and sociological questions would be likely impossible for costumed
interpreters to provide in their few minutes of performance; but at the same
time, the thoroughgoing focus on material culture at these sites meant that
they elided almost entirely these complementary issues of community and
identity. While achieving a balance between these different topics is much
easier said than done, I’d argue it’s a very worthwhile goal for any 21st
century historic site.
Last
Williamsburg post tomorrow,
Ben
PS. What do you
think?
No comments:
Post a Comment