Questions

I have a question: Why should there be a cohesive school of Historiography?

I ask in response to Peter Burke's frustrations with “the New History.” He writes, “in this expanding and fragmenting universe, there is an increasing need for orientation” (2), and so spends the piece trying to understand the new movement of attitudes and style of researching and writing History.  As I ask the question, immediately, I see the value of one united school—easily followed, easily learned, universally understood.  Additionally, just because there is one method, does not mean that there’s only one opinion.  However, I also become uncomfortable.  I agree with Thomas Postlewait, historical events exist in “a complex and dynamic interrelationship among… historical locations of meaning.  History happens and rehappens, as we continue to reconstitute the past every time we comprehend it.  We are always rewriting and rereading history” (178).  Understanding history is a shifting, complex, recursive process.  If we were to have only one way—one unified way to understand it—we would lose the wealth of ideas and understanding that conflicting and complimentary methods can produce. 

So I ask again: Why should there be a cohesive school of Historiography? 

I think I may be asking the wrong question.

It seems that each of the readings for this week—Thomas Postlewait, Peter Burke, and Bruce McConachie—are caught in between two sides somehow.  New History and Traditional History, Narrative and Essay, Objective History and Subjective History.  While none of the authors actually say that one of the ways is wrong/right, each author is concerned that their fellow historians think carefully about which technique they use.  Each article contains a warning about how to proceed: do not forget how complex and interrelated history is, do not forget that the new history is incomplete, do not forget that the essay loses something without narrative. 

So I change my question: Why are these authors so concerned about matters of form, process, and orientation?

Robert Scholes’ observation about producing texts comes to mind: “The ability to be “creative,” whether in the discourse of criticism or in the discourse of poetry, is not given to the novice but is earned by mastering the conventions to the point where improvisation becomes possible and power finally is exchangeable for freedom once again” (6).

While there have been/and are geniuses that seem to create without knowing the conventions, there is a cultural sense that one should know the rules in order to break them.  The ten thousand hours research supports this idea.  Learning the conventions or the rules is what makes improvisation and creativity meaningful.  Breaking the rules works, essentially because when someone is a master of the rules, they know why the rules work/what need the rules are addressing.

So both rules and creativity are important: they function together with a (product)ive, process tension.  It seems to me that the value that these writers are afraid to lose is respect for the techniques that balance out and generate creativity. 

At the moderated discussion re: Einstein on the Beach, Robert Wilson and Phillip Glass both talked about how much work they did on the project before they came to rehearsals or even started putting things together—but when they began rehearsals, Wilson said he came in without a plan, ready to react and work with what was there—rather than what he expected.  Glass mentioned that if he “knew” what he was trying to do, it was an indication that it wasn’t going to work.  The technique, they said, was what allowed them to be creative in the moment.

To answer the question: Why are these authors so concerned with form, process, and orientation?  I believe that they are afraid that their colleagues will forget what is important about certain forms/processes/orientations, thereby allowing the reasons for those forms to be lost and losing valuable tools—thereby inhibiting the (product)ivity of their historical research and conclusions. 

While my view of history is not exactly in line with anyone of these authors, I think that understanding the structures/forms/orientations/techniques that come before, mastering them, spending the 10,000 hours is how we create, how we learn to do something new and meaningful, how we study history—as they knew it, as we know it, and then as it might be.  

Works Cited

"Historiography and the Theatrical Event: A Primer with Twelve Cruxes" Thomas Postlewait (1991)

"Overture: the New History, its Past and its Future" Peter Burke (1992)

"Narrative Possibilities for U.S. Theatre Histories" Bruce McConachie (2004)

Semiotics and Interpretation "Chapter 1" Robert Scholes.  New Haven: Yale UP (1983)

Moderated Conversation Re: Einstein on the Beach. Ann Bogart, Phillip Glass, Robert Wilson. 15 Jan 2012. Ann Arbor