Embedded Files
Volume 1 | Issue 5 - Ideology
Article by Amy Calladine. Edited by Hannah Lyons. Additional Research by Liz Goodwin.
In light of the BBC’s ambitious task to present a history of the world in just one hundred objects, I thought it might be interesting to explore the ways in which material culture has enriched our understanding of the past. What can we learn from it, and perhaps more importantly, why should we care?
By material culture I simply mean stuff. From the grandest country house to the discarded crisp packet and everything in-between, the great thing about things is that they are literally everywhere. The computer screen you’re reading this from, the chair you’re sitting on, the bowl you ate your cereal from this morning. It’s all material culture, and it all has something to say about the world from which it came.
So what is the point of it all? For years, history has been firmly rooted in text, the written word forming the basis of scholarly research into past societies. True, objects have been used by archaeologists and antiques experts, and in the displays of innumerable museums, but their acceptance into the canon of history writing is a comparatively recent one.
When, in the twentieth century, whiggish narratives of change were successfully replaced with more conceptual approaches, the focus shifted. Social and cultural history illuminated the everyday lives of ordinary people. Now, thankfully, it’s not as important to learn the dates of a few big battles or the names of those ‘great men’ off by heart. Instead, the field of historical actors has been widened, and the minutiae of daily life has become a viable topic for enquiry.
Into this framework, material culture becomes a vital and exciting source. Objects can give us things that written documents simply cannot. They open up a unique window into a previous age with a tactile immediacy that is unique to their form.
The great thing about this sort of history is that there’s no room for pretension. No source is dismissed due to lack of artistic merit or aesthetic value. The most important factor is what it can tell us, and in this sense, a piece of broken crockery from two hundred years ago can be just as important as a priceless masterpiece.
There’s something brilliantly human about this sort of history, particularly when you know the story behind an object. Tucked away in the majority of lofts and attics are cherished possessions passed down from generation to generation – a faded photograph album, a box of military medals, an old wedding dress or a stash of childhood toys. In many cases, it’s these personal items which most powerfully convey personal identity.
As part of the BBC’s foray into the world of things, an interesting selection process has been forwarded. In collaboration with the British Museum, experts and enthusiasts have handpicked an impressive array of objects. The main list of one hundred is being revealed daily, from Monday to Friday, in special fifteen minute programmes on Radio 4. Setting off broadly in chronological order, at the time of writing, we’re up to the ‘Paracus Textile’ – fragments of cloth wrapped around a mummified body on the Peruvian coast in around 500 BC.
Narrated by the director of the British Museum, Neil MacGregor, the series has also sparked similar initiatives across the UK. Local museums are getting involved, displaying objects from their own collections. From the Sheffield and South Yorkshire regions, there’s a Bible given to survivors of the Sheffield flood which occurred on 11th March 1864, killing 240 people and destroying nearly 4000 homes. There’s also an Italian bag of sugar from 1984. An odd choice you might think. But this is no packet of Tate and Lyle.
Given to the families of striking miners as a gesture of solidarity, to quote the BBC website, this is ‘a wonderful human gesture of support…’ Indeed, when these seemingly innocuous things are placed into a historical context, they are imbued with a life, skilfully evoking the cultural milieu of times gone by.
Things start to get really interested when we move into modern territory. What are the objects chosen to represent the last century, the last ten years even? Amongst the most memorable from the tie-in website are Dolly the Sheep (not looking too bad considering), an iPhone and a portrait of Harry Patch, the last surviving British soldier to have fought in the trenches.
There’s also the mysterious figure of ‘Object 100’ – represented to intrepid browsers with nothing more than a big grey question mark. The identity of the final item, presumably a reflection of the first decade of the new millennium, is being kept firmly under wraps.
So, to come back to my opening question, what can material culture tell us, and why should we care? I hope I’ve shown how objects can capture the zeitgeist of an age, speaking in ways that more traditional sources simply cannot. Rather than rendering the latter obsolete, material culture works to enrich and complicate, throwing up questions and opening new routes into the past. Objects demonstrate the fascinating human face of history, something which belongs to everyone, and is constantly open to reappraisal and regeneration. Things, it seems, really do matter.
And as for the revealing of ‘Object 100’, we’ll have to sit tight until autumn. Any ideas on what it might, or should, be?
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