76 Chapters
  Title Author Publisher Format Buy Remix
Medium 9780253337566

Comparison in Ireland

Henry Glassie Indiana University Press ePub

Thinking like that about the architectural change in Virginia, I proposed to test the idea with something like science. I knew from the superb writings of E. Estyn Evans that Ireland divided into two great architectural regions. The houses of the east, where the English settled, had central chimneys and linear plans like those of southeastern England. The houses of the Celtic west had chimneys on the ends, and they were socially open and pierced asymmetrically like the hall-and-parlor houses of Virginia. I knew, as well, that the Georgian form was introduced to Ireland in the eighteenth century, just as it was in Virginia. My idea was this: though it was present on the landscape, the Georgian form would not become adopted into common building practice until the people were ready, until they were ready to trade the little community they knew for an abstract concept that would bring them into national alliance with people they did not know. That, I surmised, would happen a decade or so before the successful revolution of 1916.

See All Chapters
Medium 9780253010469

1 Historic Preservation

Nancy R Hiller Quarry Books ePub

Henry Glassie

Historic preservation is a natural aspect of human existence, an inevitable result of our being creatures of memory and intention. We select and protect things to locate ourselves in time, in space, in society. The old woman on a green hill in Ireland washes weekly and displays daily her precious collection of plates; each was a gift and together they map her connections to family and friends, both living and dead. The young Turkish woman in a rocky mountain village folds into a studded chest her gathering of textiles, embroidered or woven by her grandmother, her aunt, her beloved sister. The Chinese potter fills his cramped apartment with antique crocks and jars that heal the rupture of the Cultural Revolution and provide him models for creation. The old soldier polishes his granddaddy’s sword. The jazz master still has the trombone he played in the high school band. I have the family Bible, inscribed in different hands between the testaments with the dates of births and deaths running back to the eighteenth century. The things we save position us in the flow of time, helping us remember the past and imagine the future, keeping us balanced for contingency, sane and ready.

See All Chapters
Medium 9780253010469

13 No Place Like Home: Preservation, the Past, and Personal Identity

Nancy R Hiller Quarry Books ePub

David Brent Johnson

There is something mystical about the places you inhabited when you were young. Visit them decades later and you will find your mind redressing and regressing the houses and other buildings, cascading you into a reflective state of haze in the face of suddenly living memory. The past is a fading dream, and buildings are its symbols of meaning, its totems of silent significance, its runic monuments to a sense that what came before us mattered; therefore what we do now will matter as well.

When I was twenty-three I returned to Indianapolis after spending several years at Indiana University in Bloomington and a summer working on a salmon processing boat off the coast of Alaska. I had grown up in the Midwestern metropolis in the 1970s and early 1980s, a time when the city’s vitality was at a low ebb. Although population rankings placed my hometown as the eleventh-largest urban concentration of residents in the country, it tended to have the vibe of a minor-league burg, bereft of significant sports franchises save the Pacers, with no skyline to speak of, and a downtown that seemed to be struck by a neutron bomb every day at 5 PM. The buildings were there, but where were the people? I sensed no spark, no soul in “India-no-place” or “Naptown,” as the city was derisively called.

See All Chapters
Medium 9780253016706

5 Depopulated Villages in Tourist and Recreational Sites

Noga Kadman Indiana University Press ePub

NEARLY ALL THE depopulated Palestinian villages were demolished in order to erase them from the landscape. However, most of the village sites are located today in open areas, and in many some remains of the village can be seen.1 Over the years, in many of these areas forests were planted, parks were established, national parks and nature reserves were declared, and hiking paths were paved. Today, the previously built-up area of almost half of the depopulated Palestinian villages (182 out of 418) is included within tourist and recreational sites, such as JNF forests and parks, nature reserves, or national parks run by the Israel Nature and Parks Authority (INPA), marked hiking trails signposted by the SPNI, and privately operated tourist sites. A full list of the villages and the recreation sites that came to include them can be found in appendix A, along with a map showing their locations across the country.

Many of the village sites have thus become accessible to the Israeli public, and therefore many encounters between Israelis and the villages take place during hiking and sightseeing. Unlike the symbolic encounter through reading a name or a map, these encounters are a tangible, physical experience. For most Israelis, who were born after the villages had been demolished, the first and only physical encounter with the villages occurs when they come across their remains. This encounter is mediated by the authorities who maintain the nature and recreation sites.

See All Chapters
Medium 9780253009913

6 - Unstable Landscapes of Property, Morality, and Status

Fehérváry, Krisztina Indiana University Press ePub

EARLY IN THIS book, I recounted an incident in which a university student from Dunaújváros nodded out the window of our bus at a silver car speeding by and remarked, “If everyone had a car like that, that would be normal!” In one breath, this young man summed up a complex mixture of expectation and disappointment. As with widespread invocations of a counterfactual “normal” in Hungary, he expressed the socialist middle strata's frustrated expectations for the kind of life they had assumed would be ushered in by democracy and a free market. Simultaneously, he delineated places and kinds of behavior in Hungary that conformed to such expectations. His insistence that “everyone” was entitled to a car like that also highlighted the fact that most people were still sitting on the bus. At the same time, these people could see that others—often inexplicably—enjoyed not only “normal” material goods and environments but far more lavish ones. Just as disturbing was the emergence of a visible homeless population as well as the regular sight of impoverished pensioners selling small, straggly bouquets of daisies on street corners.

See All Chapters
Medium 9780253010469

3 Ode to a Bungalow

Nancy R Hiller Quarry Books ePub

Teresa Miller

As I sit writing, I look out the west window through a curtain of lace, slatted wooden blinds, and mullions. My gaze moves on through the boughs of two century-old firs standing guard over the dignified front porch of the neighboring house. Additional trees provide a tracery of branches in winter and a comforting green canopy in summer. My view stops at the historic Dunning House, beautifully proportioned with twin porches flanking a two-story brick central structure. Toward dusk the sky changes color – first, from bright cerulean to a dusty, smoky blue. As the sun lowers, the light reflects off the bottoms of the clouds in colors ranging from lavender to pink, perhaps with bit of ochre. The changes in cloud form and color may be subtle or striking, but they are always beautiful at that magic moment of early evening. It is a view that evokes a past of tree-lined streets, graceful buildings, and a slower-paced life. How did I come to be so fortunate as to be able to sit in my study and enjoy such a sweet view?

See All Chapters
Medium 9780253019097


Sandy Prita Meier Indiana University Press ePub

Aziz Ahmed, November 2005

Rahima Ali, May 2005

Bi Shuali Amran, May 2005

Sheikh Msellem Amin, January 2005

Fatuma Mbwana Amiri, March 2005

Hadija Mmwana Amiri, March 2005

Mzee Hamid Mohammad al Baloushi, 2004–2005, 2014

Ustadh Ahmad Nassir Juma Bhalo, February 2004 and July 2013

Mama Hubwa, 2004–2015

Abdul Rasul Hussein, April 2005

Zaiten Hussain, February, May 2005

Mohammad Jaffer, April 2005

Ma’allim Ali Jemadari, August 2003

Sheib Khamis, June 2005

Nawas Khan, September 2004–July 2005

Waffyahmed Kotaria, March 2005

Ustadh Khamis Al Kumri, April 2005

Mwalimu Mohammad Matano, July–August 2003, 2004–2005

Mohamed Abdallah Mohamed Matano, July 2013 and July 2014

Mohammad Miran, February 2005

Mohamed Mchulla, 2004, 2005, 2014, 2015

Sheikh Abdullahi Nasser, January, February, April 2006

Stambuli Abdullahi Nasser, February 2004, August 2005

Aisha Mohammad Nassir, 2005

See All Chapters
Medium 9780253010469

12 Guinea Hens in the Churchyard: Signposts of Maple Grove Road

Nancy R Hiller Quarry Books ePub

Lauren Coleman

The first time my husband and I drove maple grove road, a rural historic district near Bloomington, Indiana, we were surprised. From the descriptions given us by friends, all of whom praised its rural charm, we had formed an expectation of idyllic, uninterrupted farmland dotted with benevolent old farmhouses. The farmland was still there. But so many of the houses were distinctly modern; the kind with faux-brick façades and preternaturally green lawns; the kind you can’t imagine, a hundred years from now, standing, let alone eliciting the pleasure of the district’s few remaining aged farmhouses, which are as wholly right in their environment as the enormous trees that shade them.

I am a twenty-eight-year-old woman from Southern California, where iconic, early twentieth-century Spanish Colonials and Craftsman bungalows coexist with vast tracts of McMansions. My time in Indiana is brief and somewhat arbitrary, the result of my husband’s three-year graduate program. I am a vegetarian of twenty-one years (not, I like to think, of the proselytizing variety; rather of the “this is comfortable for me” variety) who subscribes to homesteading magazines with headlines such as “Butcher Your Own Hogs!” and “Onions: Truffles of the Poor.” Although I do not identify with a sub-culture, I acknowledge that I am somewhat of a cliché: a young, college-educated, temporarily (and not all that uncomfortably) lower-income person, yearning in a vague and naïve way toward a rural way of life I know very little about. At present, my efforts to access this life are essentially limited to – ironically – spending money: I pore through my homesteading magazines; I splurge on organic tomatoes at the farmers’ market; I plant carrot seeds that languish in the clay soil of our side yard. My husband and I talk earnestly of pint-sized houses, backyard chickens, herb gardens. I imagine a life in which I milk goats, bake whole grain bread from scratch, and sell some sort of felt craft on Etsy. In other words, I’m sort of annoying, in the way my husband’s precocious freshman students (“I’m going to get my Ph.D., become a professor at Yale, and write for the New Yorker on the side”) are annoying. Not because my daydreams are wrong or bad, but because they reek of inexperience, a lack of acquaintance with the realities of goat poop (Plate 13). And because they make of farming and livestock a pretty game, where once people lived and died – indeed, still live and die – by poor soil and mastitis.

See All Chapters
Medium 9780253337566

Compositional Levels

Henry Glassie Indiana University Press ePub

Now the walls belong to a composition. Acts of composition bring interiors and exteriors together, massing and ornamenting buildings into units that contain diversity. Then composition expands, and meanings complicate, as buildings are set in relation, one to the other in space. While building walls, people perform on a complex field of influence, balancing the natural and the cultural. By weighing the influences of the natural environment against social and economic influences, we will have a way to begin a consideration of the expansive orders of composition.

It is hot on the vast, flat delta of Bengal, so hot that the climate must figure powerfully in architectural planning. At home in the village, cooking takes place outdoors in fair weather. The heat of the fire disperses, and the woman at work gains a touch of relief from the winds that find their way from the river. It is tropically hot, and it is wet. Rain is an insufficient name for the downpours of summer. In the rainy season, the fire for cooking is moved beneath a roof that is pitched steeply to shed the water. The roof is held aloft by impaled posts. Between the posts, bamboo screens make frail walls. Coolness comes in, the heat of the fire escapes.

See All Chapters
Medium 9780253006875

8. Politics of Narrative at the African Burial Ground in New York City: The Final Monument

Joanna Grabski Indiana University Press ePub




The African Burial Ground located in lower Manhattan was used by Africans and people of African descent from approximately 1700 until 1790. It covered five to six acres and likely contained the remains of ten thousand to twenty thousand people. A small portion of the African Burial Ground was unearthed in 1991 when the General Services Administration (GSA) built on top of the cemetery a thirty-four-story Federal Office Building at 290 Broadway between Duane and Reade Streets. The eighteenth-century colonial cemetery was located in what has become today's Civic Center of lower Manhattan, surrounded by City Hall, Federal Plaza, and the New York Supreme Court. Because the plot of land at 290 Broadway is prime real estate, it was initially treated as such, rather than as a sacred, historical burial site. Eventually, after community activism and governmental involvement, several commemorative art projects were eventually commissioned for the site.1

See All Chapters
Medium 9780253019097

1 Difference Set in Stone: Place and Race in Mombasa

Sandy Prita Meier Indiana University Press ePub

Architecture has a powerful impact on how culture is experienced. The very notion that people “belong to” or can claim a certain territory is constituted by culturally variable politics of inhabiting, in which the built environment plays a central role. Examining how these spatial processes unfold in such fluid borderlands as the Swahili coast is an especially clarifying exercise because its port cities are fundamentally nonterritorial cultural landscapes, shaped by the constant movement of peoples and things across great distances. Here the relationship between identity and place is particularly mercurial and in constant flux.

For centuries permanent stone architecture occupied an important place in the civilizational order of Mombasa. Founded sometime in the early second millennium, this ancient Swahili city was the site of an important port long before it became part of the British Empire. In contrast to Lamu and Zanzibar, whose global connectivity is a fairly recent phenomenon, Mombasa has nurtured direct connections with inland Africa, Europe, and Asia since at least the fourteenth century. Great Zimbabwe, Portugal, and Ottoman Turkey were among the major empires that had regular contact with the city. Mombasa Town stood at the edge of intersecting worlds; its vibrant mercantile culture drew peoples from the African mainland, South Asia, Europe, and the Middle East. Merchants, diplomats, and even attacking armies came to Mombasa because it provided access to the markets and resources of inland Africa. As a result Mombasa figured prominently in the consciousness of foreigners. This long history of transcultural contact also influenced the worldview of Mombasans. Locals learned to appropriate faraway objects, styles, and technologies in the making of their city. Yet the nineteenth century marks a major watershed moment in this long history of transregional engagement, when industrial capitalism and colonization changed a range of preexisting systems and traditions. I chart this process of transformation by showing how stone architecture once embodied the Swahili ideal of the “elsewhere” and how it came to stand for racialized difference. What becomes clear is that the revolutionary circumstances of the nineteenth century forced Mombasans to reconstitute how they made their sense of place useful to themselves and legible to others in the world.

See All Chapters
Medium 9780253011428

4. Eating Ethnicity: Spatial Ethnography of Hyderabad House Restaurant on Devon Avenue, Chicago

Edited by Arijit Sen and Lisa Silverman Indiana University Press ePub


In 2006 an item in the Chicago Tribune announced the closing of Hyderabad House, an ethnic restaurant located on Devon Avenue, a popular and crowded retail street on the northern edge of the metropolis. The heart of a diverse and ever changing immigrant community, Devon Avenue is well known for its Indian, Pakistani, and Bangladeshi stores. Frequent visitors know that ethnic restaurants appear and disappear with regularity on this retail strip, so the only remarkable thing about the Tribune's report was its vivid description of the health hazards in the establishment:

A restaurant on Devon Avenue, a stretch well-known for its global cuisine, was closed Thursday after inspectors found insects, mouse droppings and food held at dangerous temperatures.

The city's Dumpster Task Force visited the Hyderabad House, 2225 W. Devon Ave., after receiving complaints about rodents, but soon found it was a “minefield” of food safety problems, said Matt Smith, spokesman for the Department of Streets and Sanitation.

See All Chapters
Medium 9780253016706

Appendix A. Maps and Lists of the Depopulated Palestinian Villages

Noga Kadman Indiana University Press ePub

Maps 1–2. Palestinian villages depopulated following the War of 1948, within the boundaries of the State of Israel.

Source: The maps were produced by the author, with the assistance of Yuval Drier Shilo.


· Every village is assigned a number that represents it on all of the following maps. The numbering of the villages runs from northwest eastward and southward and refers to their built-up area.

· The maps and the tables that follow include villages referred to by Khalidi (All That Remains): villages depopulated during the War of 1948 and its aftermath, which had permanent structures; they do not indicate areas from which Bedouins were uprooted in the South.

Table 1. Key to Maps 1–6.

Number in map

Village name


Abil al-Qamh


al-Zuq al-Fawqani


Khan al-Duwayr


al-Shawka al-Tahta









See All Chapters
Medium 9780253337566

Forms and Causes

Henry Glassie Indiana University Press ePub

Now, understanding something about building in Bangladesh and central Sweden, areas that are strikingly different in climate and prosperity, yet comparable in architecture, we can turn to causation. Founded upon faith, conjoining the familial with the communal, an idea of social order seems to be the prime condition of design when architects in Bengal or Dalarna plan relations among buildings. The environment sets an outer ring of constraint. Its conditions are brought into consideration whenever they do not contradict the more fundamental concerns that are sacred, social, and economic. There is logic in that formulation, but it is not so easy as that.

The most successful historical movement of our time, in my estimation, has been dedicated to the study of the landscape of the British Isles. By treating the land itself as the primary text and reading it closely during painstaking fieldwork, by building a geographical base for understanding and then bringing the more fragmentary and less democratic written record to bear during the construction of explanations, scholars have shaped a sweeping new view of history that attends to both continuity and change, while focusing on general cultural processes and not on the doings of a few errant princes. In England, W.G. Hoskins gave eloquent, public voice to the movement. In Ireland, the great spokesman was E. Estyn Evans.

See All Chapters
Medium 9780253006875

10. Framing Practices: Artists’ Voices and the Power of Self-Representation

Joanna Grabski Indiana University Press ePub


“Who is Olu Oguibe?” An artist! is the answer, not an Igbo or Uliist or whatever else. No one asks “who is Jeff Koons?” and David Hockney is not studied as a Cockney artist.


In The Predicament of Culture, James Clifford raised the problem of cross-cultural translations, challenging the notion of ethnographic authority and asking the fundamental question: “Who has the authority to speak for a group's identity or authenticity?”1 This question has great relevance to discussions of museum exhibitions as narratives about cultural production from Africa and to considerations by African artists on and off the continent. Since the mid-1980s there has been a shift in the strategies museums adopt to enhance participation and to ensure that museums remain responsive and relevant to the communities they serve. Of particular interest is the extent to which those who are the focus of an exhibition play a role in their own representation. Increasingly, museum professionals recognize the benefits of exhibition models that rethink the singular, authoritative voice of the museum and embrace the telling of complex, multivocal narratives resonant with the realities of lived experience.

See All Chapters

Load more