It's history. History may be the study of the past to understand the present and it may be compartmentalized into specific subjects as well as having conflicting methodologies or approaches. After all, the Cynical Historian put up a video talking about the three major approaches to historical research and understanding. Check it out on YouTube. As per my channel, one wouldn't find the kind of historical analysis I've made on this site or elsewhere, but instead music, political rants, and social media challenges. Oh yeah, be sure to subscribe.
Anyway, now that we got the formalities somewhat squared away, we must ask the question that everyone has about history.
"Why is it so boring?"
Ah yes, the common inquiry among non-historians (and rebel historians, of course), which can easily be refuted by the trump card of "history is a collection of stories that enrich us and contribute to our sense of self", but alas, that comes off slightly as an excuse for the orthodox methodology of national history where milestone events (even the tragedies) are glorified as a part of "building the modern nation". That was the common approach for several years and it has been challenged in recent years as it should be critiqued.
So the research I've been doing is somewhat related to my theme park "research", as it pertains to the creation of themed environments. Instead of immersing visitors in a story for a ride, it'll be an enclave designed for living. However, that is a subject of a different article.
Though, the research has sparked an embodiment of what is described as "hiraeth", which refers to a nostalgia or longing for a home that one can never return or even a place that never was. That last part hit me. For clarity, I was born in the latter half of the 1990's and I am in my early twenties, so my sense of childhood nostalgia is confined to the increasingly-globalized world from 1997 to 2007.
In my nostalgia research, I came to the bold conclusion that we are nostalgic for a world that we consider to be safe. A world where our childhood traumas seem lighter and less impactful than it really was. That's the "Hiraeth effect" because it is not only a setting (time and place) we can truly return (as in it's impossible to return to say Phoenix, Arizona, on Christmas 2007), but it is almost like hyper-reality when we think of it.
In fact, the fact that one can replicate a place in a certain time is what the theme park industry does with ease. For example, the 1974 souvenir guide to the Pirates of the Caribbean had a page on Caribbean Plaza at Walt Disney World, in which it's stated that Disney is adept at recalling places, even places that existed or at least places in a different time (with the "inauthentic authenticity"). Heck, even an authentic New Orleans from the 1850's would be unsafe, politically incorrect (I'm not using that as a pejorative in this context), and frankly uncomfortable (the first air-conditioner was invented in Chicago about thirty years later) to modern people, but then again these hyper real themed environments present a newer reality than, well, reality.
Ultimately, just like Paul McCartney, I long for yesterday, or at least the neon splendor and vapid consumerism of the 1980's with Epcot Centers, shopping malls on every corner, the hype of Miami Beach and Cancun during Spring Break, and the Trump lifestyle. Yes, before the Donald became the President or even before he did reality television, he was a rich man whose achievements in real estate had undoubtedly altered the landscape of Manhattan. Did I mention the synthesizer-driven music and MTV being all the rage?
Perhaps, I am a tad obsessed with history and studying the psychology behind nostalgia. After all, that obsession with history sparked such an investigation.
What I learned was that emotions tend to overpower reason in most cases. Formerly, I thought it was a personal or political response, but it happens under most circumstances.
Strong emotions are what great creators hit upon. For example, I actually thought the Pirates of the Caribbean at Disneyland was scary. It may have been a year or two or even three until I was begging my parents to take me on it, but my initial response was predicated on fear manufactured by the fact that a small boat ride at night took me deep into the earth to see skeletons, people shooting, and a burning city with such stark perceived threats. I thought I was going to die, whether it was in the form of a cannon ball hitting my head, a pirate shooting me, or being burned.
As I think about using physical spaces to induce a sense of "pastness", I would be remiss to not mention the fact that these environments would be more powerful from the point-of-view of a sentimentalist than a rationalist. Oddly enough, I fall into both camps, so it's difficult to differentiate between what I feel versus what I think in terms of the environment. If I had a Wild West boomtown, I would logically presume that if such a place was authentic, it would resemble a frontier town as understood by historians who are dealing with statistics, ephemera, and other relics versus the idealized western landscape of a John Ford movie or something in a theme park. However, a modern "Western town" would be more in tune with my emotional response.
The interactive nature of a theme park like Disneyland or any other tourist attraction seems at odds with the intent of showing off ancient edifices and historical monuments in Europe where they do often have modern luxuries and safety regulations, but one must not interact with the content beyond being a passive audience member in a museum.
Ultimately, this brings a sense of longing to those who weren't there, but at the same time, it is not exactly an authentic representation of that setting.
What I learned was that emotions tend to overpower reason in most cases. Formerly, I thought it was a personal or political response, but it happens under most circumstances.
Strong emotions are what great creators hit upon. For example, I actually thought the Pirates of the Caribbean at Disneyland was scary. It may have been a year or two or even three until I was begging my parents to take me on it, but my initial response was predicated on fear manufactured by the fact that a small boat ride at night took me deep into the earth to see skeletons, people shooting, and a burning city with such stark perceived threats. I thought I was going to die, whether it was in the form of a cannon ball hitting my head, a pirate shooting me, or being burned.
As I think about using physical spaces to induce a sense of "pastness", I would be remiss to not mention the fact that these environments would be more powerful from the point-of-view of a sentimentalist than a rationalist. Oddly enough, I fall into both camps, so it's difficult to differentiate between what I feel versus what I think in terms of the environment. If I had a Wild West boomtown, I would logically presume that if such a place was authentic, it would resemble a frontier town as understood by historians who are dealing with statistics, ephemera, and other relics versus the idealized western landscape of a John Ford movie or something in a theme park. However, a modern "Western town" would be more in tune with my emotional response.
The interactive nature of a theme park like Disneyland or any other tourist attraction seems at odds with the intent of showing off ancient edifices and historical monuments in Europe where they do often have modern luxuries and safety regulations, but one must not interact with the content beyond being a passive audience member in a museum.
Ultimately, this brings a sense of longing to those who weren't there, but at the same time, it is not exactly an authentic representation of that setting.
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