By: Paige E. Kinder

Last spring, I had the privilege of taking a practicum class that challenged me and strengthened me as a public historian. “Making a History of Columbia Point: A Participatory Exhibition” was the graduate class I always hoped grad school would provide for me. As a class, we were responsible for creating a participatory pop-up exhibit, working with the local community around University of Massachusetts Boston—a community who lived, worked, and loved Columbia Point. I’ll admit, it was intimidating at the start, but the class left a lasting impression on me.

The syllabus portrayed a project that seemed simple enough; however, once we were completely submerged in research, class meetings, and archival visits, I felt that I had bitten off more than I could chew. There were five students working on the project with me and we all came to the project with different backgrounds, interests, work ethics, and experience. Nevertheless, we all dove in together. We spent the beginning of the semester researching a wide range of aspects about Columbia Point’s history, like its geography, housing complexes, school systems, and community activists, just to name a few. We examined oral interviews of residents, read papers from the Boston Housing Authority, collected newspaper clippings, and finally managed to develop a solid foundation from which we created the exhibit.

Creating an exhibition always seemed easy enough. I felt after working in museums that it mostly followed the same pattern; do research, go through the collection and pull necessary artifacts, write labels, install, and enjoy. I will never again see exhibit creation in the same way again. After doing our initial research, we were tasked with creating a timeline of important moments in Columbia Point’s history, generating a collection, and locating sites on an interactive map. Judith Marshall, another student in class, and I were chosen as the collections team, which I was really excited about until I realized we had no pre-established collection. How were we supposed to curate artifacts when they did not exist? Judith and I worked tirelessly to locate articles, photographs, and objects that would lend themselves to conversations of Columbia Point’s history. We hoped that the people who came to our event would want to tell us their impression of these items, but also share with us stories of their own. My mind slowly shifted from seeing objects as the center of exhibits to seeing the social stories and memories that stemmed from objects as the focal points. I had never thought about exhibits in that way before, and my perception of what public historians do changed once again.

Our pop-up exhibit took place on May 9, 2015. We had spent weeks creating a timeline, a map, and a collection. We also met and choose participatory elements we wanted to implement alongside our labels to create a way for our visitors to contribute to our findings. The timeline was meant to be altered, so we had post-it notes around the edges and invited visitors to add events—both historical and personal—to our pre-planned events. The collection was definitely not complete. Judith and I found 14 items that we thought represented Columbia Point’s history well, but we knew people could bring us objects we would have never found on our own. We invited our visitors to bring photographs, documents, and items that they wanted to share. Our map worked in the same way. As a class we choose 6 places that we felt were important to the history, but hoped the community would contribute locations as well.

The participatory element of our exhibit was extraordinary, not only for us but for our visitors as well. Museums and exhibits never seem like places that allow you to manipulate labels, and collections, and displays, but for one day the visitors were allowed too, and they took full advantage. It was a slow start, since no one wanted to be the first to contribute, but by the end of our day, different colored post-it notes covered our timeline, over 100 items had been added to our collection, and so many more locations found their way onto the map. The stress I felt early in the semester was a distant memory. I was in my zone. Hearing people talk about the events we researched, meeting people we read about in books, and sharing our own insights with people who lived through these events were moments I will never have again. The class may have been hard, but the feeling of knowing you are on the right path professionally was a well-deserved award at the end of the semester.

After the class ended, I had a hard time thinking of what our work would mean to other people. Would people know this event happened? Would people want to add more things to our collection? Would people see the work we had already done? I approached our instructor a little after the semester ended to see if there was anything more I could do. Thankfully people in the historical field are always looking to help graduate students, and I lucked into working with the University Archives and Special Collections at UMASS Boston to process our collection. Those 100 photographs we collected and all the information we knew about them now had a chance to be available online. I worked all summer long to scan in photos and log information into the school’s database. I was able to see our project from a different level, and it inspired me to take more archival classes and add an archival certificate to my degree.

A class that seemed intimidating, felt impossible, and challenged me became so much more. I know now I want to be a public historian. I want the stresses and challenges of the research, and the delight and excitement in uncovering new artifacts. I want the conversations with the public, and the chance to hear from the community. I also want to explore all aspects of public history, and take more classes out of my comfort zone. I can only hope everyone feels this way when they take their 625 Practicum.