Living Spaces: How Accurate Is "History"?
People often take for granted the thought that personal living spaces accurately reflect the person or persons occupying them; either currently or, in the case of house museums, in the past. While it is true that one can come to understand a lot about a person through simply examining the "stuff" that he or she surrounds him or herself with, one must question the extent to which the "stuff" has been manipulated in order to convey a particular image. This point can be examined through drawing a comparison between two different types of living spaces; both assumed to depict life in their respective eras accurately. The first space attempts to recreate the life of a middle-class family in the late 1930's; specifically the life of a family living in the planned community of Greenbelt, Maryland. As the space is presented as the Greenbelt Museum, most people approach it with the notion that what is depicted in the museum is what life was actually like. To a similar extent, most people would likely view the second living space, my bedroom, as relatively precise reflection on the life of a female, middle-class college student in the late twentieth century. Although admittedly for different reasons, there are several fallacies with these assumptions.
One of the most important distinctions to make between the Greenbelt Museum and my bedroom concerns intent. One needs to understand from the get go that the museum presents past history while my bedroom is, in effect recording history. A passage from the Virtual Greenbelt exhibit reads: "The house has been restored with furniture and objects of the simple life which characterized the Great Depression and the New Deal" (http://otal.umd.edu/~vg/). In order to accomplish this, "much of the furniture and artifacts in the collection was bought, used and has now been donated to the museum by Greenbelt citizens" (http://otal.umd.edu/~vg). The museum's curators wanted to give visitors an idea of what the average Greenbelt resident's life was like. However, since nothing is ever exactly like the average, it is impossible for a viewer to get an understanding of the life of a person who actually lived in that house at one time. My bedroom, on the other hand, is a construction based on one specific life experience; my own. All of the artifacts contained within its walls were selected by me as what I felt best represented the characteristics of my personality that I wanted to convey to others. The museum aims to educate people about life in the Greenbelt of the past through the living space. My bedroom is not meant to enlighten people about the 1990's; it is primarily a functional environment in which I live.
The Greenbelt Museum is found at 10B Crescent Road in Greenbelt, Maryland. Part of a planned community of townhouses, the museum is found in one of the smallest of the houses: it features a main living area, a small kitchen, two bedrooms and a bathroom. There are windows throughout the house so that every room is relatively well-lit. Right away the visitor has the idea that a Greenbelt family of the 1930's did not require a great amount of luxury; it seemed to be quite practical. For the most part, this assumption is probably correct. There is not too much room for differences of interpretation concerning the actual size of the space. In this instance, the museum serves more to show affectation as opposed to "reflection": the small quarters most definitely shaped the lives of the occupants. It affected for example, the kind of furniture that the residents could buy as well as how much "stuff" they could eventually own. Bill Greaves goes even further to posit that "the size issue reflects both the desire to fit as many units as possible on the property and the apparent belief that potential tenants (being of lower socio-economic status) would have fewer belongings and therefore need less space". Nevertheless, a Greenbelt townhouse appeared to provide its owners with the means to live a functional, somewhat comfortable life--of course this depends largely upon the size of the family.
The room that I occupy in apartment 203 on 5912 Cherrywood Terrace is quite small, measuring in at about nine and a half by eleven feet. One entire wall is consumed by a large picture window, necessitating that I have blinds of some sort. Although I do utilize all areas of the apartment, I consider my bedroom to be my primary living space because it is the only part of the apartment that is created entirely by myself. A visitor in my room would most likely be able to see the way in which the space influences my life through its small size. Just as with the owners of the Greenbelt Museum, I am limited concerning the kinds of things I can put in my room. I cannot, obviously, decide that I want to have a king sized bed to sleep in. This is not necessarily a result of my being a practical person as much as it is just physically impossible. In this respect, my bedroom has the affect of forcing me to be a bit more pragmatic rather than reflecting it as an already established quality. This distinction between affectation and reflection is an important one for a visitor to a living space to be able to make. Daphne Pee took a more in depth look at the ways in which the physical layout of a home can influence the lives of the people that live there.
"How one goes about creating a museum...I have no idea. It seems like a tall order--and yet every museum that exists was started by somebody, sometime" (Beauchamp 1). This comment was made by Dorothy Sucher, a co-chair of the Museum Subcommittee of the 50th Anniversary Committee, in regards to creating the Greenbelt Museum. Put into simple terms, the Museum is a collection of artifacts that most likely were owned and used by residents of Greenbelt during the late 1930's arranged as they might be found in a home of that time. This method of presenting history is slightly fraudulent, albeit not in a manner that bears any ill will towards people. In fact, the problem is more that visitors tend to view living museums with too much authenticity. They need to recognize that while the artifacts can definitely give one insight into the past, these artifacts do not in any way represent that past as it actually was: to view this one would need a time machine. Viewers should have knowledge of the historical fallacies when going through a place such as the Greenbelt Museum. The people of the city of Greenbelt are quite proud and thus nostalgic about their history; it is inevitable that some of these sentiments are going to influence they way in which the museum is put together. Mary Lindstrom, another co-chair, states; "We have a unique history. The museum can help us express that history" (Williamson 1). The key words there are "help us express". Despite the fact that it is set up as an actual living space, the museum does not set out to accurately recreate post-depression life in Greenbelt.
There is a danger that some of the visitors to the Greenbelt Museum will take away a distorted view of middle-class life in that city. However, as long as one examines the museum closely and as objectively as possible, he or she will most likely be able to discern its generic qualities. One thing that stood out to me right away was the presence of two vacuum cleaners in the kitchen. After noticing that, I began to realize that there were too many inconsistent idiosyncrasies throughout the house; and none of them gave any insight into the person(s) who used them. The artifacts were too random to be descriptive of a specific person's life. A good example of this is found in the child's bedroom. Some of the objects one comes across in the room include dolls, sailors, ice skates, a shovel, Mickey Mouse and so on. Not only did the viewer not get any information on the age of the child, he or she also got confused indications of gender. This is not to say that a room always clearly reflects the occupant's age and sex; however, it is likely that, especially given the time period, these things would have been evident. Sara Headman most likely would not agree with this, stating that "because the community offered a large amount of activities for the children the bedroom could be small and the toys could be few". The random mix of artifacts still seems a bit too strange to me to simply chalk it up to the possibility that the child didn't play inside too often. Lastly, there was a prevailing air of sterility found not only in the child's room, but throughout the entire exhibit. It was almost too clean and precise.
If it were possible for a person to arrive in my apartment from fifty years into the future, he or she could get a fairly accurate idea of what life like for a female resident of Greenbelt, Maryland (not THE Greenbelt) attending a nearby university. Upon entering the room he or she would find clothes thrown all around the room, nearly covering the numerous books, both text and novels, and papers strewn everywhere. One would most likely assume that the occupant is a person who is either a complete slob or quite busy, or perhaps a bit of both. School would appear to play a significant role in the person's life. As the visitor looked further into the room, he or she would find that music is somewhat central to the resident's life: all but one of the many posters on the walls is are of bands, there are numerous compact discs and records lying about along with books concerning different genres of music. Unlike the Greenbelt Museum, one can find certain things--such as music--that tie many of the artifacts in the room together to form a whole picture. Overall, the room is one that is lived in and comes across as such.
When viewing and analyzing my bedroom, however, one needs to keep in mind the fact that, while he or she is getting an accurate piece of history, it is one that is very specific. It is true that certain aspects of my experience will be the same as many other nineteen-year old female college students. However, there are also many aspects that do not translate to these other women at all. These differences can be attributed to the variations in personality and interest among people. I think that it is safe to assume that my room is quite different from that of a woman who is an athlete or a member of a sorority. This particular point actually calls into question the degree to which the living space reflects the occupant. I have complete control over which parts of myself I want displayed: to an extent I can create my own image. This is something that the Greenbelt Museum really cannot do as what is exhibited is a result of many people's interpretations of what aspects of historical Greenbelt should be seen.
One last point that should be considered is whether or not living museums are worth analyzing at all. As Greenbelt resident Ann Pisano said of the Greenbelt Museum, "Greenbelt is not a bunch of furniture. Greenbelt is people" (Williamson 8). I would argue that one does not need to rely on only artifacts or only people; rather, he or she should combine the two for a more accurate, in depth version of history. Perhaps having known some of the past residents of Greenbelt would have made the museum resonate a bit more for me. To the same extent, perhaps the only reason that I feel that my bedroom provides a concrete picture is because I am looking at it so completely subjectively. In general, I think that house museums are a great idea, just so long as the visitor understands that he or she is getting an interpretation of history, albeit a much different one than is found in the history books. One should be familiar with and keep in mind the historical fallacies--especially those of nostalgia and patriotism--when visiting the likes of the Greenbelt Museum.
Sources
Beauchamp, Virgina. "Greenbelters Gather to Celebrate Successful Museum Fund Drive". The Greenbelt News Review: 1 May 1986.
Williamson, Mary Lou. "Greenbelters Turn Out En Masse to Attack, Support City's Purchase of House for Museum". The Greenbelt News Review: 13 Nov 1986.