Historical Buddies

Coco Chanel once said that we are only dead when others stop thinking about us. Whether or not we heard it from her, most of us seem to believe that. When we talk about seeking “immortality,” what we really mean is leaving behind a legacy that will be memorable long after we are gone. It occurred to me recently, that as a historian, I seem obsessed with creating immortality for others. Whether it be a research project for school or a mystery collection at work, I love researching the history of someone largely unknown to the public. I like the idea that I am somehow bringing them back to life, and I imagine that if they could thank me, they would.

Perhaps this is why I wouldn’t have been a good curator for the Vivienne Westwood show. She is a respected living designer whose history and fame is already well recorded. In fact, she already had a big retrospective at the V&A a few years ago. What new insight could I possibly add?

Obviously, one of the reasons I am so excited about my John Doyle Bishop project is that I feel like I’m rescuing him from the historical dustbin. Here is someone who was a big deal in his own time, but has nearly slipped into oblivion because no one has kept his memory alive by writing about him. And he isn’t the first. I now have a little running list of dead people whose legacy I feel a personal connection to. One is Nina Hyde, the Washington Post writer whose collection of papers I organized when I was an intern in Special Collections. Another is Richard Bennett, a fantastic artist from the Seattle area whose sister donated a large collection of his stuff to MOHAI. I was the first person to process the material, and have excitedly looked on as the collection was fully accessioned into the collection, written about, and eventually exhibited. I feel like John Doyle Bishop, Nina Hyde, and Richard Bennett are like my historical buddies whom only I understand.

But sometimes I get a dose of reality. When I was researching Nina Hyde I came across recent newspaper article about one of her daughters. Oh right. She might be my historical mascot, but for someone else she was real—she was Mom. I also can’t take credit for Richard Bennett’s recent success as the subject of an exhibition and a book—it was his sister Helen who pushed for these things in the hope of keeping her brother’s memory alive. I often wonder what John Doyle Bishop’s niece thinks of me. I’m sure she is charmed that this student is so excited about her uncle, but for her he was real and for me he is a school project. How can I think that I really “know” him?

In the end, I think I imagine that this is all a game of historical karma. If I do a good job rescuing people from being forgotten, someday someone will do the same for me. They might not have any real idea of what I was like, but they will create some idea of me in their head, and the will decide that that person must have been pretty cool.

P.S. If you live in Seattle and you haven’t checked out the Richard Bennett exhibition at MOHAI, you really should. Buy the catalog too.