49 Matching Annotations
  1. Jan 2021
    1. Unlike many other interdisciplinary experiments, humanities computing has a very well-known beginning. In 1949, an Italian Jesuit priest, Father Roberto Busa, began what even to this day is a monumental task

      For many years the Busa origin story went pretty much undisputed. But more recently, the tale has come under greater scrutiny, both about whether it is, as Hockey claims, singularly important, and about whether Busa was really a solitary genius. The other essay you'll read this week looks at another dimension of the Busa origin story: the people (women, as a matter of fact) who actually did the work for Busa. For a longer look at Busa, you might take a look at Steven E. Jones's book on the subject.

    2. The introduction of academic programs is another indication of the acceptance of a subject area by the larger academic community. For humanities computing this began to happen by the later 1990s although it is perhaps interesting to note that very few of these include the words "Humanities Computing" in the program title. King's College London offers a BA Minor in Applied Computing with a number of humanities disciplines, and its new MA, based in the Centre for Humanities Computing, is also called MA in Applied Computing. McMaster University in Canada offers a BA in Multimedia. The MA that the University of Virginia is soon to start is called Digital Humanities and is under the auspices of the Media Studies Program. The University of Alberta is, as far as I am aware, the first to start a program with Humanities Computing in its title, although the University of Glasgow has had an MPhil in History and Computing for many years.

      There are now many more academic programs in digital humanities. It's hard to keep up with them, since new ones are always appearing, but here's a good list.

    3. The expansion of access to electronic resources fostered by the Web led to other areas of theoretical interest in humanities computing. Electronic resources became objects of study in themselves and were subjected to analysis by a new group of scholars, some of whom had little experience of the technical aspects of the resources. Hypertext in particular attracted a good many theorists. This helped to broaden the range of interest in, and discussion about, humanities computing but it also perhaps contributed to misapprehensions about what is actually involved in building and using such a resource. Problems with the two cultures emerged again, with one that was actually doing it and another that preferred talking about doing it.

      I'm not 100% sure what Hockey is referring to here, but it might perhaps be the difference between "new media studies" and "digital humanities." In the simplest possible terms, scholars of new media study...well, new media, while digital humanists use new media to study...well, anything. But people often confuse the two fields.

    4. Computational linguistics had always developed independently of humanities computing and, despite the efforts of Don Walker on the TEI Steering Committee, continued to be a separate discipline. Walker and Antonio Zampolli of the Institute for Computational Linguistics in Pisa worked hard to bring the two communities of humanities computing and computational linguistics together but with perhaps only limited success.

      Computational linguists are always getting into fights with digital humanists who work on texts, because each field has its own methods and assumptions. Here's a blog post that compares the origins of each discipline.

    5. Participants at the meeting agreed on a set of principles ("the Poughkeepsie Principles") as a basis for building a new encoding scheme and entrusted the management of the project to a Steering Committee with representatives from ACH, ALLC, and the Association for Computational Linguistics (Text Encoding Initiative 2001). Subsequently, this group raised over a million dollars in North America and oversaw the development of the Text Encoding Initiative (TEI) Guidelines for Electronic Text Encoding and Interchange. The work was initially organized into four areas, each served by a committee. Output from the committees was put together by two editors into a first draft version, which was distributed for public comment in 1990. A further cycle of work involved a number of work groups that looked at specific application areas in detail. The first full version of the TEI Guidelines was published in May 1994 and distributed in print form and electronically.

      The TEI, or Text Encoding Initiative, is still quite active and important. It's the well-recognized standard for producing electronic scholarly editions. As we might discuss, however, TEI's importance has arguably faded a bit with the advent of fairly sophisticated natural language processing techniques.

    6. Humanist was born (McCarty 1992). The first message was sent out on May 7, 1987. McCarty launched himself into the role of editing what he prefers to call an "electronic seminar" and, except for a hiatus in the early 1990s when Humanist was edited from Brown University, has continued in this role ever since.

      The infamous Humanist listserv! It's very much still around.

    7. Increasingly complex mathematics were brought to bear on vocabulary counts, leaving some more humanities-oriented conference participants out in the cold.

      Still true! There's a bit of a schism, which is apparently a redux of the one Hockey describes, between people who are primarily interested in increasingly sophisticated machine analysis and people who are interested in...other stuff. Here's a computationally minded scholar complaining that the level of computational acumen at DH conferences is too low. His complaint got an enthusiastic reception and eventually resulted in a new scholarly society.

    8. This period also saw the introduction of courses on various aspects of humanities computing. Some courses were given by staff within academic computing centers and concentrated mostly on the mechanics of using specific software programs. Others looked more broadly at application areas. Those given by academics tended to concentrate on their own interests giving rise to student projects in the same application areas. A debate about whether or not students should learn computer programming was ongoing. Some felt that it replaced Latin as a "mental discipline" (Hockey 1986). Others thought that it was too difficult and took too much time away from the core work in the humanities. The string handling language SNOBOL was in vogue for some time as it was easier for humanities students than other computer languages, of which the major one was still Fortran.

      You can sense here a tension that continues to define DH: Where is its intellectual center? Because people are accustomed to viewing professors as the intellectual force behind scholarly developments, they often overlook the fact that some of the most important developments in DH were the work of librarians, technologists, and other non-faculty professionals.

    9. The Association for Computers and the Humanities (ACH) grew out of this conference and was founded in 1978.

      The ACH is still the main North American DH organization, the one to watch if you're looking for conferences and other events.

    10. Representation problems extended far beyond specific characters. For concordance and retrieval programs there was a need to identify citations by their location

      You might want to sort of skim through the details that follow; Hockey is more interested than the rest of us might be in the details of who met whom when and where.

    11. haracter-set representation was soon recognized as a substantial problem and one that has only just begun to be solved now with the advent of Unicode, although not for every kind of humanities material. Various methods were devised to represent upper- and lower-case letters on punched cards, most often by inserting an asterisk or similar character before a true upper-case letter. Accents and other non-standard characters had to be treated in a similar way and non-Roman alphabets were represented entirely in transliteration.

      OK, here's a moment where you might pause to think about the kinds of characters that were considered "standard" at the advent of textual analysis. Already computers were not really designed to deal with non-Roman alphabets.

    12. quantitative study of vocabulary as a means of investigating the authorship of the Pauline Epistles

      This area of work, usually called "authorship attribution" or "stylometry," persists today, although not without some controversy about its accuracy. Here's a book that applies stylometric analysis to the works of Shakespeare.

  2. Nov 2020
    1. Where instruction and rhetoric failed, punishment began.

      https://youtu.be/LG2A7tt0iZA

      Written version:

      Do you remember Greta Thunberg’s speech at Davos? It’s so powerful and moving – and yet it also gets at something that I wanted to mention here, too. In confronting the powerful leaders at Davos, Thunberg’s remarks get interpolated into Davos – so that Davos can claim that it, itself, has truly acknowledged climate change – even though we know it hasn’t! Look at this guy – he’s eating it up! The Davos participants can go home feeling good about being part of an event that took climate change seriously.

      It seems to me that this article is saying something similar about the possibility of exhibiting truly radical art in a museum setting.

      One of the reasons I like to assign this article is that it really challenges us to think harder about how and whether museums can be subversive institutions. If every exhibit and artifact in a museum becomes evidence of the state’s power, then what happens to artwork that’s meant to question the social order in radical ways? Is it possible for artists or curators to break out of this box, or is it impossible?

      Some things I’ll be thinking about as I prepare for our discussion tomorrow are how and whether digital technology can make any kind of difference in the exhibitionary complex. What would a truly subversive exhibit look like? Or maybe you think Tony Bennett is wrong, that museums aren’t simply instruments of state power! In that case, I’m excited to hear why. I hope this has given you food for thought as we prepare for Friday’s class!

    2. erhaps more important, though, was the orderliness of the public which in spite of the thousand extra constables and ten thousand troops kept on stand-by, proved duly appreciative, decorous in its bearing and entirely a-political. More than that, the exhibition transformed the many-headed mob into an ordered crowd, a part of the spectacle and a sight of pleasure in itself.

      A somewhat mysterious phenomenon! Instead of rampaging through the museum, as some administrators had feared, members of the public behaved very well! Why would this be?

    3. When, shortly after the museum's establishment, it was proposed that there be public days on which unrestricted access would be allowed, the proposal was scuttled on the grounds, as one trustee put it, that some of the visitors from the streets would inevitably be 'in liquor' and 'will never be kept in order'.

      This is a really interesting point. When you think about it, if a huge mass of people joined together, it could overcome state power. And museums are designed to bring a big mass of people together. So for 19th-century administrators, the question became, how do we bring all these working-class people together while ensuring they don't riot and, for example, rampage through the British Museum grabbing artifacts? After all, they might well ask, why should these artifacts belong to the elite and powerful, and not to the working people?

    4. Great Exhibition of 1851

      Bennett is going to use the Great Exhibition of 1851 as his exemplary institution for the exhibitionary complex, similar to the way that Foucault used the Mettray Prison to represent the carceral archipelago. It's true that the Great Exhibition wasn't a museum, but Bennett is going to argue that it's the place where many museum conventions were articulated and popularized.

    5. Exhibitions thus located their preferred audiences at the very pinnacle of the exhibitionary order of things they constructed. They also installed them at the threshold of greater things to come.

      Euro-American exhibitions flattered white museumgoers by tacitly placing them at the top of the evolutionary ladder.

    6. . Public museums instituted an order of things that was meant to last. In doing so, they provided the modern state with a deep and continuous ideological backdrop but one which, if it was to play this role, could not he adjusted to respond to shorter-term ideological requirements. Exhibitions met this need, injecting new life into the exhibitionary complex and rendering its ideological configurations more pliable in bending them to serve the conjuncturally specific hegemonic strategies of different national bourgeoisies. They made the order of things dynamic, mobilizing it strategically in relation to the more immediate ideological and political exigencies of the particular moment.

      Bennett is saying that museums' permanent collections constitute an enduring, permanent testament to the story states want to tell about themselves. But exhibitions are more flexible opportunities to advocate for a state's shorter-term priorities.

    7. This was particularly true for the remains of Australian Aborigines. In the early years of Australian settlement, the colony's museums had displayed little or no interest in Aboriginal remains.40 The triumph of evolutionary theory transformed this situation, leading to a systematic rape of Aboriginal sacred sites - by the representatives of British, European, and American as well as Australian museums - for materials to provide a representational foundation for the story of evolution within, tellingly enough, natural history displays.41

      Anthropological museums used the human remains of indigenous people to represent an earlier moment in the story of evolution.

    8. Museums of science and technology, heirs to the rhetorics of progress developed in national and international exhibitions, completed the evolutionary picture in representing the history of industry and manufacture as a series of progressive innovations leading up to the contemporary triumphs of industrial capitalism.

      Museums of science and technology did the same thing, representing the march of time as progress toward a triumphant future heralded by industrial capitalism.

    9. he second development, however, led to these universal histories being annexed to national histories as, within the rhetorics of each national museum complex, collections of national materials were represented as the outcome and culmination of the universal story of civilization's development. Nor had displays of natur

      Museums started displaying objects as though they were part of a triumphal procession through history, culminating in a glorious present.

    10. Between them, these constituted a new space of representation concerned to depict the development of peoples, states, and civilizations through time conceived as a progressive series of developmental stages.

      Depicting the development of culture -- rather than its permanent features -- was a new thing that museums started doing in the 19th century.

    11. As Benedict goes on to note, the resulting tension between unofficial fair and official exposition led to 'exposition organisers frequently attempting to turn the amusement zone into an educational enterprise or at least to regulate the type of exhibit shown'.

      This is a somewhat unnecessary digression into the history of fairs, the way that they never successfully became organs of state control, etc.

    12. The significance of the formation of the exhibitionary complex, viewed in this perspective, was that of providing new instruments for the moral and cultural regulation of the working classes.

      Before, rich people kept their collections private. With the advent of the exhibitionary complex, the elite made their collections visible to everyone else--but they also found ways to ensure that people would look at them the "right" (i.e., non-threatening) way.

    13. The exhibitionary complex, by contrast, perfected a self-monitoring system of looks in which the subject and object positions can be exchanged, in which the crowd comes to commune with and regulate itself through interiorizing the ideal and ordered view of itself as seen from the controlling vision of power - a site of sight accessible to all.

      In the prison, the prisoner doesn't really look back at the guard (or if he does, it doesn't really matter). But museums create an architectural situation where we're all looking at, and thus surveilling and disciplining, each other.

    14. Rather, it consists in its incorporation of aspects of those principles together with those of the panorama, forming a technology of vision which served not to atomize and disperse the crowd but to regulate it, and to do so by rendering it visible to itself, by making the crowd itself the ultimate spectacle.

      Bennett is going to explain how the architecture of museums (and other places of display) regulates crowds and turns the crowd itself into a spectacle.

    15. directions during the early modern period. As punishment was withdrawn from the public gaze and transferred to the enclosed space of the penitentiary, so the procedures of trial and sentencing - which, except for England, had hitherto been mostly conducted in secret, 'opaque not only to the public but also to the accused himself (p. 35) - were made public as part of a new system of judicial truth which, in order to function as truth, needed to be made known to all. If the asymmetry of these movements is compelling, it is no more so than the symmetry of the movement traced by the trial and the museum in the transition they make from closed and restricted to open and public contexts. And, as a part of a profound transformation in their social functioning, it was ultimately to these institutions - and not by witnessing punishment enacted in the streets nor, as Bentham had envisaged, by making the penitentiaries open to public inspection - that children, and their parents, were invited to attend their lessons in civics. Moreover, such lessons consisted not in a display of power which, in seeking to terrorize, positioned the people on the other side of power as its potential recipients but sought rather to place the people - conceived as a nationalized citizenry - on this side of power, both its subject and its beneficiary.

      Where older displays of power were designed to terrorize state subjects, this newer model is designed to convince people that they are on the side of state power.

    16. And for a power which was not reduced to periodic effects but which, to the contrary, manifested itself precisely in continually displaying its ability to command, order, and control objects and bodies, living or dead.

      So in the olden-, pre-19th century days, the state created occasional spectacles of punishment in order to impress audiences with its power. Then, in the 19th century, it replaced those occasional spectacles with the permanent spectacle of the museum.

    17. Museums, galleries, and, more intermittently, exhibitions played a pivotal role in the formation of the modern state and are fundamental to its conception as, among other things, a set of educative and civilizing agencies.

      We sort of already know this is true from our discussion of colonialism, right? Museums may not be directly controlled by the state, but they are an important expression of state power.

    18. Even a cursory glance through Richard Altick's The Shows of London convinces that the nineteenth century was quite unprecedented in the social effort it devoted to the organization of spectacles arranged for increasingly large and undifferentiated publics.6 Several aspects of these developments merit a preliminary consideration.

      Here, Bennett is saying that Foucauldian scholars have made a mistake on focusing all their attention on surveillance. There's a different tendency, he says, that's equally important, and which became very prominent during the nineteenth century: that of the spectacle.

    19. These new systems of surveillance, mapping the social body so as to render it knowable and amenable to social regulation, mean, Foucault argues, that 'one can speak of the formation of a disciplinary society . . . that stretches from the enclosed disciplines, a sort of social "quarantine", to an indefinitely generalisable mechanism of "panopticism'" (p. 216). A society, according to Foucault in his approving quotation of Julius, that 'is one not of spectacle, but of surveillance':

      In other words, the model of the panopticon, which was designed for prisons, has expanded and become part of our society more broadly.

    20. It is, then, as a set of cultural technologies concerned to organize a voluntarily self-regulating citizenry that I propose to examine the formation of the exhibitionary complex.

      This paragraph is mostly defensive throat-clearing; don't worry if you don't understand the details.

    21. Yet, ideally, they sought also to allow the people to know and thence to regulate themselves; to become, in seeing themselves from the side of power, both the subjects and the objects of knowledge, knowing power and what power knows, and knowing themselves as (ideally) known by power, interiorizing its gaze as a principle of self-surveillance and, hence, self-regulation.

      So the prison constitutes subjects who are seen, and thus controlled, by power. The museum, in contrast, constitutes subjects who see themselves as on the side of power, and therefore become invested in the social order.

  3. Oct 2020
    1. Institutions, then, not of confinement but of exhibition, forming a complex of disciplinary and power relations whose development might more fruitfully be juxtaposed to, rather than aligned with, the formation of Foucault's 'carceral archipelago'.

      To paraphrase: Foucault talks about what he calls the "carceral archipelago," the complex of prisons and prisonlike institutions that intimidates most citizens into following rules. Importantly, you don't have to actually be put in jail to be afraid of jail; just the prospect of it is enough to frighten most people into following the rules most of the time.

      Now, here comes Bennett's intervention: He is proposing that, just as prisons form a complex that reinforces state power, so do museums. He calls this the "exhibitionary complex." But now he has to explain to us what that is and why museums are disciplinary apparatuses.

    2. Furthermore, while these comprised an intersecting set of institutional and disciplinary relations which might be productively analysed as particular articulations of power and knowledge, the suggestion that they should be construed as institutions of confinement

      https://youtu.be/BxRhKtqEgBY

      Written version:

      Bennett starts this piece off by referencing Michel Foucault’s carceral archipelago, and he sort of assumes that you already know what that is.

      Foucault outlines his idea of the carceral archipelago in his 1975 book Discipline and Punish. Literally carceral archipelago means “jail islands,” or a series of islands housing jails. But Foucault uses the term to refer to both literal prisons and a whole bunch of other techniques and institutions that the modern state uses to discipline the modern subject.

      To understand Foucault’s idea about how modern states discipline citizens, let’s look at what he says about the panopticon.

      The panopticon was built into a kind of jail designed by the English philosopher Jeremy Bentham. Not that many of them were actually built, but it’s the idea of the panopticon rather than the actual thing that’s important for Foucault.

      The jail is built around a surveillance tower, and prison guards can see into each individual cell.

      But the key to this system, for Foucault, is that there could be someone in the tower or there could not be—just its existence is enough to ensure compliance.

      For Foucault, a whole bunch of other elements of society work in the same way, to surveil modern subjects and keep them submissive to the will of the state. He includes things like medicine, psychology, education, and public assistance in this program of surveillance.

      In Foucault’s account, the state ensures a submissive populace through constant surveillance—or threat of surveillance—of their activities. The carceral archipelago is this series of institutions that ensure compliance by surveilling the populace.

      Next Bennett is going to tell us what museums have to do with the carceral archipelago.

    3. Tony Bennett THE EXHIBITIONARY COMPLEX In reviewing Foucault on the asylum, the clinic, and the prison as institutional

      This first paragraph, which connects this article to foregoing work by Douglas Crimp (that I haven't read) is not so important to understanding the chapter. In general, I think the first few paragraphs are some of the most confusing in the article.

    4. In doing so, it translated these into exhibitionary forms which, in simultaneously ordering objects for public inspection and ordering the public that inspected, were to have a profound and lasting influence on the subsequent development of museums, art galleries, expositions, and department stores.

      Briefly: Foucault points to several pivotal moments in the history of the carceral archipelago. We could do the same thing for the exhibitionary complex, and those moments continue to shape museums today.