Type Assignment

The first big assignment for History 697 was to create a webpage with text and design in mind. As discussed in my previous post, I wanted to present the content in a way that was scholarly, yet aesthetically pleasing.

http://rfloresportfolio.com/portfolio/type.html is the result. While I’m still making adjustments as I post this, I had extensive help for a couple of my classmates, but I was able to put together something not so bad. I had an idea in mind of what font to use from my cartography design project, so MyFonts and a few other sites guided my search with a few keywords. Since I had a “metro” style in mind, I used words like “metro”, “subway”, “transit”, etc. to see what came up. I even did searches with words like “punk” and “music”, but none of those were useful. They were either too stylized (something to avoid), very expensive, or just plain illegible (anyone familiar with black metal album covers would understand this). In the end, I went with ContaxSans55, a free MyFonts pick which kept the mood of a streamlined font but wasn’t too boring (I hope) and was a nice replacement for Futura.

I decided to keep the whole content from the study up to help disperse the paper at the conference should anyone want to read it (my panel is at 8am, so at this point, I’m hoping I’ll actually have an audience). Otherwise, I would have cut it down to a more palatable size. MyFonts made it pretty easy to embed both the font and the license, but I only got it to work once I made a few adjustments. This was a problem: in the code below, everywhere it said ‘fonts’ originally said ‘webfonts’, and for some reason, I had to change all that to ‘fonts’, and it mysteriously worked only then.

@font-face {font-family: ‘ContaxSans56-Italic’;src: url(‘fonts/201DCB_0_0.eot’);src: url(‘fonts/201DCB_0_0.eot?#iefix’) format(‘embedded-opentype’),url(‘fonts/201DCB_0_0.woff’) format(‘woff’),url(‘fonts/201DCB_0_0.ttf’) format(‘truetype’);}

@font-face {font-family: ‘ContaxSans55′;src: url(‘fonts/201DCB_1_0.eot’);src: url(‘fonts/201DCB_1_0.eot?#iefix’) format(‘embedded-opentype’),url(‘fonts/201DCB_1_0.woff’) format(‘woff’),url(‘fonts/201DCB_1_0.ttf’) format(‘truetype’);}

How one was supposed to know this, I couldn’t tell you. This highlights the benefits of working collaboratively, but also how such a small detail can pull the brakes on a project.

Still making adjustments as I said; I can’t seem to get the padding right on the content, and I’m going to insert some of the argumentative images as well. Stay tuned.

PS-For those of you looking for an example of what straight edge is:

EDIT: I also commented on Meg’s blog.

Fonts That Get the Idea Across

Yesterday Lindsey and I started working on our type assignment, so I started brainstorming what I could use for content. I think I’m going to adapt my presentation on straight edge for the web. This presentation is in April, so I’d like to have something on the web to possibly utilize then. I think it would be nice to use something in addition to or besides PowerPoint.

This was my Clio I final project under Dr. Cohen, and while discussing this with him, he gave some good advice on how to present subject matter like this both on the web, to the public, and in traditional academic settings. He advised not to use language, images, or fonts (highly applicable here) that conveyed the popular notions of what “punk” is. He told me to stay away from anarchy symbols, safety pins, etc. I had already planned to do just this, but his point was that images and fonts styles such as those communicate punk in a very popular way. Meaning, they only give you that kind of Sex Pistols imagery. This isn’t useful for academic (or even non-academic) investigations of punk because they are very surface level. In my research, I found many punk sites that had this presentation (or worse: black backgrounds with yellow texts, blaring music on the homepage) and they were downright unreadable and distracting. Or, more often, they were fan sites that lacked any analysis or criticism. This is fine, but what about projects that want to argue or propose a point?

As I skim through the CSS3 readings, I’m trying to think of methods to show my work in a way that is serious, interesting, yet accessible. I did some font searching on MyFonts, and found a few that might work. There is even a “punk” tag, most of which were exactly what I’m trying to avoid. For now, I used Futura LT Medium (a font I had for another project) that is clean and readable. I’ll continue to search for a similar one, but here is what the rough stages look like:

I liked Gillenwater’s “cheeseburger metaphor”: something that is clean and simple works, but a few fancy features certainly help. That is going to be my mindset for the next phase until my CSS skills start to develop.

EDIT: I commented on Claire’s blog.

Dreamweaver: Guiding Us Into the Web

After Lindsey and I battled with our FTP for a while, I couldn’t help but feel like I was in above my head. But, just as Helvetica almost immediately put forth, the ubiquity of that typeface is overwhelming. This is the case with the web (and has been for years now). It can no longer be ignored by humanists. This, by the fact we are all in this course, can be agreed upon unanimously. Just as Helvetica helped bring modernist design to the 1950s in a palatable way, so can the web act as the same medium for history. Simple, yet it gets the job done. I couldn’t help but think of the Feltron report while watching the film and doing the readings.

That being said, I still couldn’t help but feel as though I was stumbling through Dreamweaver, not to complain, but more in the sense of the new. This was something I’d never done before. Something that struck me in the film was the idea of Helvetica acting as a neutral medium (as one interviewee argued). It was attractive because it was out of the way; it let the words to the speaking and was simple enough not to distract. “Drink Coke, period…in Helvetica, period”, as mentioned in the film. As I was thinking about my design, I tried to keep this in mind. How can the design be interesting enough to attract, but neutral enough to allow interpretation and readability? “There is a fine line between, simple, and clean, and powerful, and simple, and clean, and boring”. As always, the more you do, the more you know, and the more you appreciate it.

Another feeling from the film that was on my mind was the danger of becoming routine. How does history know what is routine and what is exciting enough to put some stock in? Hopefully, some of the skills in this course will help me think this through.

PS-I particularly liked the section on album covers, because I often associate or somehow visualize the album aesthetic with the music. Here are a few of my favorites, all with interesting uses of typeface:

Also, for the sake of cuteness, there is this.

I also commented on Stephanie’s blog.

Doing Digital Humanities with Design in Mind

I recently went through a few pieces discussing the role of design in digital humanities, a field still rife with developing practices. Stephen Ramsey’s look at what digital humanities really means struck me the most. While warning about the dangers of over-definition, he hit the nail on the head when he focused on digital humanities as active. There is a creation involved in DH, one that moves the historian out of a more passive role of reading to a more active role of creating. This, at first appearance, appears as a gross oversimplification and a slap in the face of the “old ways”. An article a friend sent me the other day reminded me that historians do just as much by disproving the old as they do discovering the new, which goes to show that tried and true methods will always have a purpose.

Having had a taste at DH in a historical cartography course, I felt the excitement of creation Ramsey refers to. My class blog chronicled my journey through such programs as Photoshop, Ortelius (a Mac-only cartographic software), and Natural Scene Designer. While there were certainly the expected software frustrations and learning curves, red-eyed nights staring at the screen, long work sessions with my partner in crime, there was the high of participation. I felt as though I was learning the tools necessary to make an impact in the current scholarly climate. It was exciting to be doing something I had no experience in (discussing typeface, designing a heading,  etc.).

Most importantly, learning all of these practices seemed relevant. Not to discount the skills learned in other courses (critical thinking, synthesizing information, argumentative writing), but as Ramsey argues, new skills lead to different insights. Knowing these tools would lead not only to something that looked more appealing than a basic paper, but to new ways of looking at the question at hand (in this case, using maps as an instrument for more than consumption). I felt armed with a new arsenal of practices that would make my work more appealing, efficient, and autonomous. The professor would remind us that knowing, for example, how printers use type would allow you more clout in your book design. It is an empowerment so to speak, knowing what good design practices are (as spoken to in this survey of what makes a web site “credible”).

It is important to remember that design still has rules, and is not an excuse to put out the ornamental for aesthetic’s sake. But, just as visual culture shifts and changes with current tastes and technologies, historical practices should at least bend if not accept the current state as well. I think it is still important to view something like design as a tool in the tool box and not a means to an end. The old with the new will hopefully lead to something fresh.

EDIT: This week I commented on David’s post.

My Experience at This Year’s PCA Conference

This past week I attended the PCA/ACA Southwest Texas regional conference in San Antonio, Texas (the full acronym being the PCA/ACA SWTX conference-a mouthful indeed). While it was not my first conference experience, ^[1] it was certainly my first autonomous endeavor to present my work in an academic setting.

What I mean by that is I did this completely on my own, without any supervision or scholarly recommendation. It felt good to go into a setting such as this with the sense of adventure and confidence of presenting your findings to people who actually have similar interests. Also, the event was in my home town, which only made me feel more comfortable.

I knew this conference was a major gathering, but the scale of the conference surprised me. Upon checking in at the registration desk, I was handed a huge book. That was the schedule. I briefly browsed the program online, but this visualization in a 400+ page book made it seem all the more daunting. I immediately felt a fear that I would simply get lost in the mix.

I presented a paper I wrote in a seminar last spring at George Mason titled Politics and Entertainment. This twentieth century US course focused on the way theater, music, and (mostly) film intersected with and played a role in American politics. My paper, Nervous Breakdown: Hardcore Punk, Ronald Reagan and US Culture in the 1980s presented a broad overview of hardcore and attempted to contextualize it in not just 1980s America but also the social and cultural conditions of the 1970s. The types of historical questions I wanted to explore included how marginal cultural productions differ in their message, do they contribute anything new, and if so, how does American hardcore punk fit into this?

My findings (as shown in my PowerPoint) highlight that:
1. It is best to look at the world of the 1970s to understand these kids’ emotions
2. Hardcore should be viewed as an umbrella term (more of a mode of doing things)
3. I’m arguing against the notion that hardcore is either valid or invalid by resulting in “real change”. There is validity in the real emotions expressed through hardcore (as I attempted to illustrate through the lyrical sincerity in the word clouds). I would push for scholars and interested individuals to avoid such a dichotomous position.
4. Perhaps Reagan is not the end all be all cause of hardcore punk. He is often cited as “the galvanizing force” behind hardcore, but I feel there is so much more going on that this presents an oversimplification.

A few technical issues aside, the panel went well and there was a nice Q & A. The audience seemed interested and there were some good questions that produced a good dialogue between the other panel members and the crowd.

All in all, it was a very enriching experience and I would like to attend next year. Speaking of which, I plan to submit my work from this past semester entitled The Origins of Straight Edge Through Lyrical Analysis . This paper saw a deeper and more informed analysis of hardcore through the specific topic of straight edge. Textual analysis tools led to a very interesting look at straight edge songs which resulted in some intriguing conclusions.

1 As an undergrad I presented at the World History Association of Texas, the WHAT conference, which always made me chuckle.

The Talking-Head Punk Rock Documentary

Last night I attended a film screening of three documentaries regarding different aspects of punk. Each one was short, to the point, and with very little cinematic style to get in the way. Hosted in a little theater in Adams Morgan, I was eager to see what they had to offer. The proceeds were to benefit the upcoming CLIT Fest DC gathering, a summer event that highlights female participation in punk, DIY, and other female contributions to popular culture.

In order, the films examined Dischord Records, riot grrrl and female punk, and finally the world of Latino punk (heavily focusing on Chicago stalwarts Los Crudos, a band I remember reading about in Punk Planet years ago). Each had a somewhat student film look (one was in fact part of a college thesis) but not anything unwatchable. What I walked away these films asking myself was how substantive can this approach be? How much more can the talking-head documentary contribute to our understanding of what this music meant?

While I very much appreciate the attention, documentation, and interest these films perpetuate, I wonder about their goals. Granted, nothing is wrong with simple conversation. However, if they are acting as histories, I struggle with the amount of analysis in these documentaries. Oral history is one thing, but these types of examinations often fall into the pit of nostalgia so easily that I tend to go in with speculation. “Am I going to see anything more than glorified story-telling or rehashing of the past”? That sounds more harsh than it should, but I cannot help but feel somewhat jaded whenever I see a new ‘punk documentary’ in the can. There are several good examples of these, Jem Cohen’s Instrument,^[1] We Jam Econo, and Westway to the World to name a few that I willingly watch again and again. I am biased towards these due to my interest in their subjects, so what about topics I know very little of?

The films themselves had very focused topics and none drifted away from their subjects. The Dischord film only wanted to show their infrastructure, riot grrrl more about the origins, and the Latino film seemed to want to discuss issues of Latino identity in the realm of punk. I valued their succinctness, but I would argue these methods only present an inherently biased perspective. How could they not? When participants are the only voice on a subject, the story can only present one viewpoint that likes to masquerade as the “truth” or the “right” answer because they were there.

After two films, a prominent participant in these stories lent herself to a short Q & A with the rather small audience (I won’t go down that road-the road of local DC interest in its own history). The initial silence quickly gave way to her personal observations from the standpoint of an active participant in the punk scene of the 1990s. I questioned if she is continually approached with historical inquiries and, if so, what did they want to know? She gave an interesting answer that her, and other key players, were thinking of taking on the game themselves and writing their own histories, again, from the perspective of the participant.

I always feel somewhat stupid when I have to describe my work as ‘punk scholarship’.^[2] It sounds so patronizing, almost laughable, and has a tinge of false-authority. I do, however, feel that historians provide the distant observation necessary to push past the personal and see the event from both the micro of the personality and the macro of the socio-cultural perspective. It sounds as if the historian is usually guilty of claiming authority over their subject, but what about when the participants are the only voice?

This always goes back to my initial conflict with doing history in the first place: how can I possibly be an authority of something I was never part of? I understand that there are many academic examinations on all sorts of punk topics. I also understand things have to start somewhere. I am not arguing against these particular films nor do I feel any future endeavors should cease and desist. I’m only arguing that once these approaches lay a foundation, they naturally should lead to more in-depth discussion. To continually use the same model traps us into only seeing what’s on the surface.

1 EDIT: Please note that Instrument is not a talking-head documentary, and should be viewed more as a film rather than a ‘documentary’.

2 By ‘punk scholarship’ I do not mean scholarship with a punk ethos, but rather scholarship about punk.

The “Why” vs. The “What” in Cultural History

This past weekend I attended my monthly book club which read The Whites of Their Eyes: The Tea Party’s Revolution and the Battle Over American History by Jill Lepore. What fascinated me about the discussion that followed was how people seemed bent on seeing if history had a purpose, a reason. This centered around if history could actually be correct, if facts could lead to a truth. (I promise my use of quotations and italicized words will be kept to a minimum.)

I attempted to convey that in my time so far at GMU, I struggle with this question everyday. The first book I read for my first graduate course was Peter Novick’s That Nobel Dream: The ‘Objectivity’ Question and the American Historical Profession. After giving a great run through of the development of historical scholarship in the United States, Novick illustrates how objectivity is just that, a ‘dream’, an ‘idea’, and a ‘theory’. I remember thinking to myself, “great, now what am I going to do? How can I possibly keep studying history if it can’t even get to a right answer?” This of course, is an intellectually suicidal attitude. It’ll make you go crazy. Actually, so will the flipside. If looking for the right answer seems impossible, a constant head-in-the-clouds, postmodern dismissal of all truth may have the same effects.

I then read a very interesting post just now by a great GMU instructor I had. He discussed how cultural history asks questions that don’t lead to a concise ____. I was particularly struck by the following: “cul­tural his­to­ri­ans tend to ask not ‘why did this hap­pen?’ but ‘what did this mean?’ or ‘what mean­ings did peo­ple give this?’”.

As I mentioned, in the book club discussion, the issues of truth, objectivity, and the “reason” for history kept coming up. Why do this if there isn’t a “right” answer? Well, I feel I’m more and more leaning towards the conclusion that there is no “right” answer and to search for one is missing the point or perhaps entirely futile.

To constantly search for the smoking gun of historical events reduces us to mere historical detectives, always on the trail of clues that supposedly lead to a concrete answer or motive. This particular post concerned itself mostly with how digital methods and the advent of search engines capable of sifting through huge amounts of data ultimately makes the “clues”, the “behind-the-scenes” approach not as impressive or crucial as it used to be. I understand knowing facts and when things happened is important; knowing that World War II happened after the Spanish-American War might be important to know. I understand this. Yet life should not be reduced to trivia. I cannot stand it when, upon telling someone I am a student of history, I am bombarded with quiz-like questions about topics I know almost nothing about. “Well, you have a degree in history?” I am not an encyclopedia, and I never will be, and I refuse to feel inadequate by inquiries of whether or not I know every battle of the Civil War.

But, the question of digital access and methodologies makes the plot thicken. Historical facts are more and more accessible. “Just Google it” can be heard all over the modern world. I understand there might be negatives to this mind set. Why know anything if you can just type it into that oh-so-convenient white rectangle on the top of your browser? I’m going to be idealistic a bit and conclude that this accessibility actual frees us up from facts (or perhaps re-purposes these facts) and allows us to look at the ‘meaning’ behind events. Perhaps the civic purpose of history is that it allows you to question, to be conscious and critical of your surroundings, armed with the knowledge of the past in order to understand the ins and outs of the present. A very good friend of mine not too long ago asked me something along the lines of, “what have you learned about history? What would you say is ‘Rosendo’s Big Thought on History’?” I think this might be as close as I have or may ever get.

In my study of music, punk, hardcore, etc., the what and the why are laid out already. What this music meant is something to dive into. I want to move towards analyzing what impact this had over time. What changed in the attitudes, the methods, the approaches, and what does it mean for the present state of DIY, indie, and underground culture? These are the types of questions I hope to see examined by my work.

The Origins of Straight Edge Through Lyrical Analysis

This is the title of paper of same name. This study peaked my interest and is exactly what I would want to look at in my career as a historian. How does music develop and what are the factors behind it?

What I concluded in this paper was that lyrics simply aren’t enough to explain straight edge. I have mentioned before the hesitance and skepticism expressed by scholars concerning textual or lyric-only studies of music (especially punk). Do textual representations contain the whole story? My stance is no, but they are a good place to start. Words easily convey meaning and allow listeners to connect, but they can be greatly misinterpreted. The creator cannot dictate how the listener will take in his or her words. Thus, I argue that straight edge almost haphazardly developed based on other people’s interpretations of other people’s lyrics. When analyzing the lyrics, the answer is perhaps in the personalization of the lyrics as I argue. You could say it is a movement that never was supposed to be. But that may be too fatalist and narrow an argument. Cultural productions have a way of developing despite any obstacles in their path.

Yet, that is one of the great things about music, this ability to make yours what belonged to someone else. I do not fault followers of the movement or blame them for somehow bastardizing early 80′s hardcore. I feel scholars and those interested need to look beyond the words to get at the essence of straight edge. Why do so many follow this ‘creed’? What are the reasons?

What (and this is the key question) is in the music that moves people so much?

Conference in San Antonio Soon

Over the break, I submitted a paper for the upcoming SWTX PCA conference in April (and in San Antonio, Texas, my hometown no less). It was accepted and I am very excited to present at this popular culture conference. Actually, I stumbled upon the conference’s website in about early October and was terribly excited to see they had a panel on punk! So much so that I hastily submitted a seminar paper I wrote last spring at GMU for a course titled Politics and Entertainment, a great course taught by Alan C. Gevinson.

The paper concerns itself with how hardcore punk (a certain style of punk that grew out of the early 1980s in the United States) reflected social issues of the day, namely Cold War anxiety, anti-Reganism, and general social awareness. I was interested to see how these ‘musicians’ (teenagers for the most part-the word ‘musician’ often unfairly implies a level of ‘skill’ that colors one’s judgment) interpreted the world around them. Did they in fact have something to say? Was it all just anger, aggression, and youth as some argue? Feel free to read it, give feedback or comments. It is called Nervous Breakdown after a well-known Black Flag track, but I also felt that hints at the argument.

Also, I’ve started a Twitter to better keep up with developments in history and digital humanities. Feel free to follow me!

Straight Edge Lyrics and Cultural Movements

First off, apologies for the late post.

More importantly, I feel like I’ve made progress in analyzing straight edge using text analysis. Dr. Cohen turned me on to a couple of tools other than Wordle that will get at the data and pull some useful numbers out. My central aim is to investigate how, why, and when straight edge became a movement. Cultural phenomenon are hard to pin down, but straight edge seems to stem so much from a lyrical basis that it deserves attention.

Tag Crowd and Voyeur Tools offer more in depth examinations of text corpora. Tag Crowd is a bit more like Wordle: word clouds, nice interface, but it allows for more control over the words used and it gives you numerical word frequencies. This is important, as per some feedback received so far, I need to see how these words were used, how often, and when. Voyeur Tools is by far the most informative, almost bombarding me with information and broken-down analysis about where words show up, how often, and in what lines.

With such information, I can take those frequencies into Wordle and create a Wordle that’s more indicative of how such words came into the parlance of straight edge. I’ve noticed that certain words and phrases (‘smoke’, ‘drugs’, ‘straight edge’) don’t really come up all that often. Different regional scenes talk about different subjects, and most bands pigeon-holed as straight edge bands sing about racism, Cold War anxiety, community, even football (that comes later, in Boston). I’m narrowing my thesis down to that straight edge largely coalesces out of interpretation; perhaps more visual and aesthetic than in the actual words. Early straight edge bands rarely sang about ‘straight edge’, something that comes a lot more concrete and defined in the late ’80s and throughout the ’90s. Straight edge as a movement stemmed largely from second and subsequent generation groups that formed a more defined and focused interpretation of earlier lyrics.

I hope that such analysis will alleviate some of the stigma of studying lyrics. As I hinted at in an earlier post, a lot of scholarship focuses on lyrics, facing critical arguments that they are injecting meaning. Perhaps putting a number to the argument will make for a stronger, more convincing argument.

Here is a bit of what I will present tonight in class, with some visuals.