Gundagai’s statue of the Dog on the Tuckerbox, about half way between Melbourne and Sydney, was arguably Australia’s most popular purpose-built tourist attraction for half a century from its unveiling in 1932. This article uses the monument as a case study to consider the ways in which the past is visualized as it is turned into tourism. In what has been called the “circle of representation,” tourists’ understandings of the places they visit are shaped by the preconceptions created by pre-existing media representations through art, postcards, photography, posters, tourist brochures, souvenirs, and so on. In the case of the Dog on the Tuckerbox, the expurgated language of souvenirs, as they multiplied through the twentieth century, came to displace oral dissemination of earlier more vulgar meanings attached to the original story that was the inspiration for the monument.
Tourists, Truth, and the Insouciance of Souvenirs
Lady Annie Brassey’s Curated Collections
Alison Clark, Catherine Harvey, Louise Kenward and Julian Porter
Lady Annie Brassey (1839–1887) was a well-known Victorian travel writer who was also a collector, photographer, ethnographer, zoologist, and botanist and who traveled around the world aboard the privately owned yacht the Sunbeam. During these voyages she amassed a collection of approximately six thousand objects. Much more than tourist souvenirs, the collection shows a rigorous academic understanding of the disciplines she was collecting within. The ethnographic material, which makes up one-third of the collection, has gained little attention. Using her travel writing as a primary source, this article will interrogate Brassey’s role as the maker of this collection, someone whose class allowed her to travel and to pursue museum collection, curation, and education to a near-professional level. Through three case studies this article will consider how she collected and curated her own museum and used her collection for public benefit.
A Study of Travel Archives
Lee Arnold and Thomas van der Walt
People’s travel collections serve as a memory aid to help them write travelogues, novels, or scientific reports when they return home. They may also have merely been a way to document a voyage or journey for future generations. Under the surface of any of these end uses is simply the need to collect, the need to hold on to memory—in the form of material culture, ephemera, photographic documentation or assiduous note taking. Travel archives are the materials (either in manuscript form or printed ephemera) that document the purposeful travel of an individual or group. Like family papers, they may be perceived as having limited value beyond their fellow travelers or family members. Irrespective of the motivation of the traveler, these collections often end up in repositories. How an archivist deals with this material is crucial to its future use.
From Souvenirs obscurs to Lieu de mémoire
Pierre Goldman was born to Jewish resisters in France in June 1944 and lived with the inability to match his parents' achievements during the war. Although a secondary figure in soixante-huitard movements, his trials for murder in the early 1970s made him a central figure in post-soixante-huitard activists' reflections on their situation. This essay examines Goldman's sui generis efforts to establish his identity as a resister and a Jew, his central role in his generation's attempts to define their relationship to the society they wished to change, and his place in the succeeding generation's efforts to differentiate themselves from the generation of their parents, Goldman's generation.
Tips, Commissions, and Ritual in Christian Pilgrimage to the Holy Land
The movement of money in Christian pilgrimage is a profound mirror of cultural classifications. By examining tips, commissions, and souvenir purchases in Holy Land pilgrimages, I show how the transfer of monies activates a series of multiple, complex relationships between Jewish guides, Palestinian drivers, and Christian pilgrims. I identify the 'colors'—or moral values—of salaries, tips, and commissions that change hands as 'white', 'black', or 'gray' monies and correlate these colors with particular discourses and degrees of transparency. I then illustrate how prayer, rituals, and the citation of scripture may 'bleach' these monies, transforming tips into 'love offerings' and souvenir purchases into aids to spiritual development or charity to local communities, while fostering relationships and conveying messages across religious and cultural lines. Far from being a universal 'acid' that taints human relationships, pilgrimage monies demonstrate how, through the exchange of goods, people are able to create and maintain spiritual values.
Exhibiting South Australia's Maritime History
South Australian Maritime Museum 126 Lipson Street, Port Adelaide, SA 5015, Australia http://samaritimemuseum.com.au/ Admission: AUD 10/8/5 The South Australian Maritime Museum cares for one of South Australia’s oldest cultural heritage collections.2 The core collection, inherited from the Port Adelaide Institute (one of the legion of nineteenth-century mechanics’ institutes providing learning resources to working men), began in 1872. Visiting seafarers spent time in the ins titute’s library, leaving behind crafts or souvenirs picked up in exotic ports of call as a token of thanks. In the 1930s, honorary curator Vernon Smith refi ned the collection to focus solely on nautical material and searched for artifacts to enhance it. Th e collection now comprises over twenty thousand objects.
Fable de Romain Gary : Le petit musée consacré aux oeuvres d’Ambroise Fleury, à Cléry, n’est plus aujourd’hui qu’une attraction touristique mineure. La plupart des visiteurs s’y rendent après un déjeuner au Clos Joli, que tous les guides de France sont unanimes à célébrer comme un des hauts lieux du pays. Les guides signalent cependant l’existence du musée, avec la mention « vaut un détour ». On trouve dans ses cinq salles la plupart des oeuvres de mon oncle qui ont survécu à la guerre, à l’occupation, aux combats de la Libération et à toutes les vicissitudes et lassitudes que notre peuple a connues. (…) Malgré le peu d’intérêt qu’il suscite, et la modestie de la subvention qu’il reçoit de la municipalité, le musée ne risque pas de fermer ses portes, il est trop lié à notre histoire, mais la plupart du temps ses salles sont vides, car nous vivons une époque où les Français cherchent plutôt à oublier qu’à se souvenir. Les Cerfs-volants (Paris : Gallimard, 1980), p. 9
Thursday, 11 August 2005. Killing time, I visit the Museum of Tolerance in Los Angeles. This is coming to the end of a tour of the Arthur Murray dance studios up and down the West Coast. It is a hot break coming at the end of a month’s dance fieldwork in Sacramento. Rather than fly back to Belfast from San Francisco, I opted for LAX and bookended my research with a personal journey driving up and down the state. I had gone up through Death Valley where I had solo hiked into the desert and made a souvenir vial of Death Valley sand. Then inland north to get through Yosemite, living in my rental car, sleeping in motels. Back south, I was sampling the dance studios along the coast—waltz in San Francisco, rumba in Hayward, foxtrot in Redwood City, tango in San Jose, salsa in chic Santa Barbara, merengue in Beverley Hills. Along the way, I was taking in the tourist attractions: the boardwalk in Santa Cruz where the movie Lost Boys was filmed; Cannery Row, Monterey, described long ago by John Steinbeck; Hearst Castle, which had inspired Orson Welles’s Citizen Kane.
Analytical Routes through Multiple Meanings
Translator : Jeffrey Hoff
—to safeguard the religious rituals, and it has not impeded the dancers from treating the spectacle as a pious event. In a fascinating discussion about souvenirs, Stausberg notes not only that they are incorporated into the structure of traditional pilgrimage