The Trenton Project

There were many fascinating questions to keep track of in Alison Isenberg’s presentation about her work on Trenton, not least what it means for a historian to be writing about the juxtaposition of archives and memories—and to be feeding back what she finds in the archive to the people who were there, and writing about how they react. So, the question of how many buildings burned that night in April 1968, and the wail of fire engines everywhere. It can transform a community’s narrative to learn that there were only four burning buildings, and that the engines crossed and recrossed the city in pursuit of dozens of false alarms. How to fold that transformation into the story as you tell it?

I was also struck by the way she talked about her collaboration with Purcell Carson. Alison has a respect for the power of well-chosen film footage that bordered on fear: how it can be manipulated, and how the placement of a powerful vignette can drive a narrative, and an argument. Is this effect so much more powerful than analogous manipulations of prose? Film and video are sometimes called “hotter” media than print. Does that heat make them risker for doing history—especially given Alison’s self-professed disciplinary refusal to speculate, absent documentary proof? I may be exaggerating her position a bit—but I think it will be very interesting to hold these questions in mind when we talk to Ruha Benjamin next time about her work in the Just Data Lab. The representation of information, and its social justice ramifications, will be much at stake then.

The Sleep of Reason

Our first regular session, with Professor Simone Marchesi of French and Italian. We read Sigmund Freud’s 1919 essay, “The Uncanny,” and studied Francisco Goya’s nightmarish drawing, “El sueño de la razon produce monstruos” (the sleep of reason produces monsters).