I’ve long found the subject of copyright regulations to be a confusing and frustrating one; while on the surface it seems rather straightforward (i.e. ask if it isn’t yours), the exact levels of legal protections and restrictions provided in seemingly very similar instances can vary wildly.  This is particularly complicated where online works are concerned; a copyrighted piece of data can easily become separated from the information providing ownership information, raising the specter of a situation wherein usage can neither be allowed nor attained.  In the area of scholarship, the issue is further muddled; deciding which academic thought up which particular idea first is extremely difficult to determine.  While I’m generally in favor of open access between researchers, credit should always be given to those whose works contributed to the final product.

At the moment, I’m working on basing my final project on genealogical data gathered by my family over the course of many years.  Currently, the list of ancestors and relatives runs upwards of eleven thousand names, and digital sorting and research tools could provide some very useful results.  While I’m still working out how to transfer the data from a specialized genealogical format to one which could be entered into digital search programs, I’m thinking of producing a map (or maps) showing the progression of places of birth or death from individual to individual over time.   Places of birth for relatives born in each time period (perhaps 20-25 years per) would be represented by different colored dots, which when viewed in sequence would show a sort of migration pattern within my family.  It would be interesting to see whether the geographical dispersal of my family narrowed down consistently, or went through periods of significant displacement or even expansion; the changes noted between European-born and American-born ancestor patterns could also be useful.  As always, I appreciate any and all comments or suggestions.

The Themes in American History class which I took last semester dealt extensively with the issue of slavery and its effects on our country’s development.  I found it very interesting to learn that, contrary to popular opinion, using slaves wasn’t actually noticeably cheaper than paid workers.  While slaves provided ‘free’ labor, they first had to be purchased (often at very sizable price), then food, housing, clothing, and a host of other goods and services had to be provided by the slave-owner.  Coupled with the very real risk of a slave escaping (and in effect making their owner’s substantial investment worthless), these issues in effect brought the profitability of slavery down to a level roughly comparable with using paid workers.

Though slavery had very real and noticeable effects on social realities on communities in which it was present, the economic situations seemed to be remarkably similar regardless of this distinction.  This in turn brings up the very important question of why slavery persisted for so long; if it didn’t provide a substantial economic advantage, then why did its use continue for such a long period of time?  In my opinion, this choice may have had more to do with societies being so used to slavery that a change was viewed with no small amount of apprehension, but a definitive answer may never be truly agreed upon.

Just as with any historical research technique, those presented in Moretti’s book remain vulnerable to being misused or misinterpreted.  The map charting the locations of protagonists and the objects of their desire in Parisian novels (pg. 55) is potentially useful, but in and of itself is just a collection of data points; picking out accurate interpretations remains a human task.    Similarly, the rise and fall of the novel (pgs. 6-12) appears to have some similarities across national borders, but the existence of actual causal similarities cannot be proven by the charts alone.  Nevertheless, Moretti clearly demonstrates the potential of new abstract methods for examining literary history based upon quantitative history, geography, and evolutionary theory.  Granted, not every historical researcher will find all of his models equally useful; my personal research style doesn’t really relate all that well to his section on circular narrative space.  Despite differences in individual preferences, it is both well written and useful.

I really enjoyed checking out the Time Magazine Corpus of American English.  Being able to access close to a century’s worth of a magazine’s writing and search out particular topics or phrases  has great research potential, and  I can certainly see using this or a similar corpus search system in the final project.  I’ve been trying to develop some potential project ideas, and after seeing this system I’m currently thinking about some sort of research into the evolution of racial epithets from common derogatory use to their being viewed by larger society in a negative light.

For example, having talked a great deal with World War II vets, I am very familiar with the ‘jap’ epithet; while not one of the most extreme terms, it is one which has an easily charted developmental history.  Using the Time Magazine Corpus, I could see its progression, which proved to be rather illuminating.  While the ‘jap’ term underwent an unsurprising jump in popular use following the Pearl Harbor attack, it was used on a number of occasions both before and well after World War II.  However, the term’s use long before WWII tended to be as a mildly disparaging identifier, which had more and more negative connotations attached to it as war approached; on the other hand, the term decreased quickly in use (though far slower than the post-Pearl-Harbor jump), and relatively soon was mostly used in quotes from the war itself or from surviving veterans.    It’s an interesting find, and one which I intend to examine further.

The American Council of Learned Societies placed a great deal of emphasis on the importance of cyberinfrastructure having inter-system operability, but the members don’t seem to propose much regarding how to implement this, nor how the myriad problems involved should be handled.  Making multiple disparate systems uniformly compatible requires changing the individual systems, and deciding which one way is correct, along with persuading the others to spend the time and effort required for the shift, are likely to be problematic issues at best.  This is especially problematic when ACLS also wants this cyberinfrastructure to be open to experimentation and evolution; in an open scholarly system, determining who will have the final say in what changes are implemented could be quite contentious, especially considering that any major change could result in significant changes in how the entire cyberinfrastructure operates.

Wikipedia is a wonderful online database, and the history covered in its innumerable pages tends to be quite accurate; this is clearly explained in Professor Rosenzweig’s article.  The presence of the ‘Recent Changes Patrol’ and ‘Personal Watchlists’ he mentions remain formidable barriers to those who would permanently alter Wikipedia pages, but the risk always exists.  Though a page dealing with a subject like 9/11 understandably is under a great deal of scrutiny, the majority of pages receive far, far less attention, and a dedicated problem poster, if they were careful, could change them in ways which might persist for a long time.  In the end, the greatest strength of Wikipedia is also its greatest liability.  Anyone can post, but they are essentially anonymous, not under any sort of obligation to explain themselves or their opinions.  If information I gain from a book turns out to be incorrect, I can place the blame on the author.  When it comes to Wikipedia, I have no one at which to point the finger other than myself.

I was reminded by this reading of a series of photographs which appeared during the trial of OJ Simpson.  Generally, the mere mention of his name or the events of his trial is enough to result in an afternoon of heavy self-medication, but I found this particular photo series interesting.  Shoeprints found at the crime scene apparently came from a specific kind of shoe, one which Simpson denied ever wearing.  After a photo turned up clearly showing him having worn that type of shoe in the past, one magazine jokingly published a series of that same photo, retouched with Simpson wearing clown shoes, bunny slippers, loafers, high heels, etc.  Though humorous, these photos looked very real, which hit me as a very big warning to carefully question what I saw in pictures from that point onwards.

I grew up in southern Maine, and from a relatively early age I became aware of a multitude of large derelict concrete towers scattered along the coast.  These structures, I eventually learned, were spotting towers for a vast array of fortified artillery positions which guarded harbors across the country from the turn of the 20^th century through the end of World War II.  Though long abandoned and neglected, the towers and concealed artillery batteries were once at the forefront of defensive technology, and their role in American military history deserves to be fully researched.  Unfortunately, what online resources regarding this area currently available are very narrow in scope (often only dealing with a single fort or battery), and little standardization exists.

My project will be an online interactive timeline showing the evolution of coastal defense systems in the United States.  The format for the site will be similar to that of the Aquae Urbis Romae site, but overlaid on current satellite imagery.  The locations of the artillery positions will be shown, along with their ranges and arcs of fire.  As the user advances the timeline, the batteries will appear and disappear, giving a clear picture as to the defensive infrastructure in existence at any particular point in time.  The site will serve as a resource both for those with a casual interest and researchers looking for ground-level information.

The greatest advantage for this project lies in its low cost.  Records regarding the position of coastal defense facilities are relatively straightforward to locate, and designating site locations require little more than a handheld GPS and some legwork.  For those batteries which lack thorough documentation, simple survey tools will provide the fields of fire.  The online site itself will, at least at first, have quite small data requirements, as it will be more or less a series of data points and shaded arcs.  The project can start small, covering a single city or region, then gradually expand if interest and support grow.  In addition, other defensive structures can be located and included, such as radar sites, submarine nets, bunkers and the aforementioned towers.  If feasible, photos (both current and period), architectural drawings, personal accounts, and even 3D renders could be added to the sites.

It is conceivable that, should a source of significant funding be located, the period of time covered by the project could be expanded to cover both earlier fortifications and Cold War era defensive missile sites; however, the difficulties of locating long-erased sites (in the case of the former) and dealing with government secrecy issues (the later) would make this a sizeable long-term goal.

As before, I welcome any and all suggestions and critiques.

At the moment, there are thousands upon thousands of museums in the United States alone, and very few of them have the resources necessary to effectively utilize high-quality 3D scanners.  For my project, I’m thinking of proposing the creation of a digital archive which, when coupled with the scanners themselves, would provide 3D scan processing and storage for these museums.  Depending on the individual circumstances, the scans could either be made available to researchers and other interested parties, or isolated from all but those with access given by the museum in question.  These scans would have many different uses, including fraud protection, repair due to damage or object degeneration, research, and duplication for educational props.  Care would have to be taken with objects which carry copyright or other legal burdens, and proper electronic security would be vital.

While the initial start-up cost for this resource would be sizeable, as 3D scanners with real-time color and texture mapping (such as the Handyscan 3D line) can run upwards of $70,000, but the cost to each individual museum would be far more manageable (or free, if substantial private or government support could be acquired).  A test run with a less-advanced system (i.e. NextEngine, going for around $3,000) could be used as a proof of concept.  In addition, due to advances in scanning technology which I don’t even pretend to understand, certain types of 3D scans take up surprisingly little archive space, greatly reducing the support architecture required.

So, thoughts?  Love it?  Hate it?  Want to bury me in a ditch and steal the idea?  I welcome any and all suggestions and critiques.  Thanks in advance.