Introduction to Digital Humanities

The How to NOT Read Erdrich assignment has required us to digitize a novel, essentially transposing the content from a physical medium to a digital one. This process has shown me that despite using machines, like the scanner or Prizmo, the human component is still vital to digitizing. While the scanner did the heavy lifting, I still had to tell it what to do by choosing the correct settings. One of the overarching things I’ve learned from the Digital Humanities, is that computers are only as smart as we tell them to be. And, as I discovered with Prizmo, there are many errors that only a human can recognize. Changing the medium inevitably leads to changes in the source material. In the art world, we constantly rely on digital images of physical works of art. But, any art history professor will tell you that it is important to see these works in person, because something is lost in translation. It could be the size and scale of the work— dramatically bigger or smaller than you imagined. Or it could be a significant change in color. Color can be difficult to capture with a photograph, as differing light and filters can lead to drastic alterations from the original. One of my favorite works of art, Abbey in the Oak Forest, by Caspar David Friedrich is notoriously hard to get a correct coloring of online. Here are just two examples: When I finally saw the work on study abroad, I made sure to take my own images for reference. Here are some of my images for comparison: In addition to color changes, small details that are easy to see in person, become difficult to see or entirely lost in photographs. In person, I found the details of the waxing crescent moon and little birds particularly significant. I think my digital copies are the most faithful to the appearance of this artwork in real life. So, while photography can be the problem, it can also be a solution—my pictures let me relive seeing them, without another plane ticket to Berlin. I think the key when transposing from one media to another, is to keep an eye out for any alterations. While there is a chance that something will be lost, when done carefully, it is also an opportunity to broaden the original content’s reach. Hopefully, my contribution to digitizing Erdrich will be the latter.

a story of loss Louise Erdrich’s short story, “The Blue Velvet Box,” follows an eleven year old girl, Mary Lavelle, as her world abruptly turns upside down. During the Great Depression, her family lost their farm which forced her father to work as a day laborer. Soon after, her father died in an accident. Next, Mary’s mother Adelaide abandons Mary and her two brothers by flying off with the Great Omar. Shortly after the abandonment, Mary dreams of her mother being unceremoniously thrown out of the plane so the Great Omar could conserve fuel. After this, a sad young man offers to take Mary’s newborn baby brother to his wife to be fed, but never returns. Finally, she loses her older brother Karl as he ran west towards the train, while she ran east towards her Aunt Fritzie. After losing the last of her immediate family, Mary succinctly characterizes how she lost each person: “I realized I was alone and now more truly lost than any of my family, since all I had done from the first was to try and hold them close while death, panic, chance, and ardor each took them their separate ways.” Louise Erdrich, “The Blue Velvet Box” The Red Convertible: Selected and New Stories, (New York: HarperCollins, 2009), 99. Loss permeates this story. Only her father is confirmed dead, but her mother and brothers seem similarly gone forever, leaving Mary on her own. consequences of loss This story made me think of the consequences of loss. First, after her father’s death, the family was forced to leave their home. Her mother’s abandonment resulted in Mary losing her baby brother, and forced her to travel to find her Aunt Fritzie. That harrowing train journey marked the end of Mary’s childhood. Essentially, she was an orphan, compelled to take responsibility for her own survival. nothing of value Another consequence of Mary’s loss, was that she felt insecure in her new position. After her life fell apart, Mary was desperate to secure her welcome at her aunt’s house. She wanted to make herself “essential” and tried to pay her family to keep her. To her dismay, the blue velvet keepsake box, which was supposed to hold family heirlooms, was empty. “There was nothing of value in the box.” Louise Erdrich, “The Blue Velvet Box” The Red Convertible: Selected and New Stories, (New York: HarperCollins, 2009), 103. To me, the emptiness of the box acts as a microcosm of her experience so far: there was what she expected versus what actually happened. Like most of us, she assumed her family would continue the way it had. But instead, she was confronted with the complete opposite of her past normal. Likewise, Mary thought the outwardly elegant blue velvet box would contain more treasures inside. Her most valuable possession turned out to be nothing. Let me know what you think of this interpretation, and share yours in the comments.