The future-facing, imaginative, collaborative nature of Schomburg’s collecting and collection were powerful to me. Imagination may carry an unserious? Whimsical? connotation but in the context of Black archive building it is integral and deeply serious. The combination of thinking to the future and imagining a myriad of forms/uses/etc for the archives feels like a precursor to Afrofuturism. Schomburg and his cohort sought to legitimize Blackness by placing Black people firmly in history and documenting it, thus making it possible for Black people to seed themselves in the future. Not to sentimentalize, but the collaboration that was the foundation of this collecting and archive building is beautiful. In many ways the work of Schomburg and his cohort would not have been possible individually. It relied on social ties, and imagination and intent expanded because the thinking was collective. It reminds me of our class readings’ emphasis on collaboration for effective and deep public history.

The relationship between form and message is an interesting one. I’m very interested in the “unpretending” list, and the idea that meaning comes from connecting the dots, rather than a single narrative. I do wonder if it is possible for a narrative to be entirely absent though. I suppose the implication is that narrative comes from commentary (the “thousand comments and flourishes”), whereas a list simply invites lines of inquiry. I’m curious if another implication is that lists are neutral—I don’t think they are, necessarily, but I may be misinterpreting the text. I think again of Trouillot, and his assertion that there is no “perfect” history, that it is not possible to have a history with no silences. I think this extends to neutrality—there no such thing as a perfectly neutral historical narrative or historical source. I think this probably relates to Constructivism and Positivism, but I’m a bit at sea in understanding those concepts.

My mind jumped to Trouillot upon reading this. Invisibility seems to align with silencing at first glance, but as I was thinking about it, in the particular field of bibliography, an author may not be so easily silenced. Invisible, yes, as their names may not appear in records. However, their words continue on. Though they may not have as much reach, they are not as effectively silenced. On the other hand, this invisibility does align with the concept of leaving traces in history, and Trouillot’s ideas about uneven power and uneven traces. Author’s whose names were omitted from auction and sale records of their work may not leave traces in that field equal to their “power” or importance. For example, Frederick Douglas’s work garnering only one entry in 26 years of sales does not match his significance as a historical figure.

The point being made here seems obvious, but I hadn’t considered it so explicitly before. It really added to my understanding of historical relevance. Historical significance is so often afforded by materiality. This includes not only the physical but also positionality. Trouillot’s writing in this chapter often draws on the idea of mirroring. In this case the idea that stood out to me was that the material conditions of a thing or place reflect the history of, narrative of, or popular attitudes towards that same thing, and vice versa. Sans Souci has been left largely in ruins, and thus large parts of the “original story” are absent from the popular narrative. Meanwhile, Sans Souci-Potsdam has been well maintained, and was the site of critical moments in Germany’s history. Of course, we can and should acknowledge the sociocultural contexts of both of these places, which then calls the idea of power into the conversation. This section also got me thinking about materiality in public history, and how it can make historical narratives more accessible to the public.

This sentence is about Trouillot’s methods for this particular exercise, but this portion of the chapter, including several prior paragraphs, had me thinking deeply about the layers of power present or absent in the historical process, and the different forms of this power. Earlier Trouillot describes the historiography of the Haitian Revolution, noting that the majority of it is in French, and thus excludes many potential scholars from accessing it. This is one way in which power is or isn’t wielded in the historical process, and has lasting impacts on the construction of historical narratives. More to the point of this quote, another layer of power is the relative power wielded by the narrator. How is the narrator’s credibility decided or imbued? There is a level of power inherent in being the one to relay the story.

This might not be the most helpful annotation, but I couldn't help but notice/appreciate Trouillot's word choice. Though obliterate is defined as meaning to utterly wipe out, I think also of the French word “oublier,” which means “to forget.” He goes on to use the terms obliteration/obliterate again later in this chapter. Given the context (Trouillot’s knowledge of French, and the discussion of silences and memory in history) this seems like a deliberate choice meant to evoke a specific meaning. Sans Souci the man was made to have been forgotten, ignored, or to use Trouillot’s terminology, silenced in the historical narrative of the Haitian Revolution.