Queensland University of Technology

Creative Industries Faculty

School of Creative Writing

Sharing Stories: Problems and potentials of oral

history and digital storytelling and the

writer/producer’s role in constructing a public place

by

Helen Klaebe

BA Creative Writing Production

MA Research

Submitted in Fulfilment

of the Requirements

for the Degree of

Doctor of Philosophy

December 2006

Supervised by

Professor Philip Neilsen

Dr Sue Carson

Kris Olsson

ii

The Kelvin Grove Urban Village, Brisbane 2003

iii

Key words

Kelvin Grove Urban Village

Kelvin Grove

Gona Barracks

Australian history

Creative non fiction

Creative writing

Life writing

Non fiction

Digital storytelling

Oral history

Social history

Public history

Writing processes

iv

Key people

Linda Apelt

Minna Brennan

John Byrne

Peter Coaldrake

David Gardiner

Dennis Gibson

John Hartley

Graham Jenkinson

Tim Joyce

Ian Kaye

Peter Lavery

Paul Krautz

David Manzie

Kate Meyrick

Norma Mills

Audrey Murrell

Stephen Pincus

Robert Schwarten

Penny Somerville

Ann Staples

Christopher Wren

v

Abstract

The Kelvin Grove Urban Village (KGUV) is a 16-hectare urban renewal

redevelopment project of the Queensland Department of Housing and the

Queensland University of Technology (QUT). Over the last century, the

land has housed military and educational institutions that have shaped

Brisbane and Queensland. These groups each have their own history.

Collectively their stories represented an opportunity to build a multi-art

form public history project, consisting of a creative non-fiction historical

manuscript and a collection of digital stories (employing oral history and

digital storytelling techniques in particular) to construct a personal sense of

place, identity and history. This exegesis examines the processes used and

difficulties faced by the writer/producer of the public history; including

consideration of the artistic selection involved, and consequent assembly of

the material. The research findings clearly show that: giving contributors

access to the technology required to produce their own digital stories in a

public history does not automatically equate to total participatory inclusion;

the writer/producer can work with the public as an active, collaborative

team to produce shared historically significant works for the public they

represent; and the role of the public historian is that of a valuable broker—

in actively seeking to maximize inclusiveness of vulnerable members of the

community and by producing a selection of multi-art form works with the

public that includes new media.

1

Table of Contents

Part One The Exegesis

Acknowledgements 3

Statement of Original Authorship 5

Chapter 1 Introduction and objectives of the research 6

1.1 The research question 9

Chapter 2 Conceptual and Contextual framework 12

2.1 Literature review 16

Chapter 3 Research methodology and design 62

Chapter 4 Collaboration, community, creativity and copyright 87

Chapter 5 Issues and concerns in writing Indigenous history, within a

public history project: critical reflection on selectivity and

ethics 98

Chapter 6 Finding their story: the process of making aesthetic and

selectivity choices in conducting digital storytelling

workshops as a public historian 109

Chapter 7 The challenges and possibilities of using digital storytelling

in public history projects 138

Chapter 8 Conclusions: where to from here? 146

Bibliography 155

References 162

2

Part Two The Creative Work

Introduction 178

Creative Work

A. Sharing Stories 1825-2005: A Social History of the Kelvin Grove

Urban Village 182

B. Sharing Stories: A Digital Storytelling Collection of the Kelvin

Grove Urban Village produced in 2004 and 2006 (DVD) 379

Appendices 380

1. List of interviewees for the oral history collection 381

2. List of initial interview questions 383

3. List of equipment 386

4. Timeline and Participants 392

5. Project information/ethical clearance/IP and copyright forms 395

6. Sharing Stories: An Oral History Collection of the Kelvin Grove

Urban Village (CD) 409

7. Sharing Stories: spreadsheet of image information 409

3

Acknowledgements

I wish to thank and acknowledge all those who provided information and

assistance for this project. A public historian, by definition, cannot work

alone. Collaboration with the public to explore is paramount and to this end,

the community of Kelvin Grove was a pleasure to investigate. Heartfelt

thanks go to everyone who returned phone calls, emails and made the time

for me to interview them. I want to express special thanks in particular to

those who participated in the field work activities—the oral history and

digital storytelling collection—almost all of whom were extremely

cooperative, enthusiastic about, and supportive of my research.

I gratefully acknowledge the help and support I received with this project

from Queensland University of Technology and the Queensland Department

of Housing, who are partners in the Kelvin Grove Urban Village. In

particular, the KGUV project team: Stephen Pincus, Penny Somerville,

Joanne Devine, Robyn Collingwood-White and Kaye Petherick.

I would also like to acknowledge my digital storytelling workshop

colleagues: Jean Burgess, Bryan Crawford, Sal Humpheys, Matt Kesting,

Jess Klaebe, Tom Medhurst, Tanya Notley. Special thanks also go to my

supervisors, Professor Philip Neilsen, Dr Susan Carson, Dr Stuart Glover

4

and Kris Olsson, and special colleagues Dr Lucy Montgomery, Dr Marcus

Foth and Fiona Crawford (you guys rock).

I am appreciative of anyone else who contributed to this project, but whom I

may have inadvertently omitted.

5

Statement of original authorship

The work contained in this thesis has not previously been submitted for a

degree or diploma at any other higher education institution. To the best of

my knowledge and belief, the thesis contains no material published or

written by another person except where due reference is made.

Signed:

Helen G Klaebe

10 December 2006

6

Chapter One

Introduction and Objectives of the Research

Kelvin Grove has always been a gathering point. While never densely

populated, the 16-hectares of land that is the Kelvin Grove Urban Village

(KGUV) was once a meeting place for Indigenous clans and in the last

century is remembered for the contribution of its military and educational

institutions. All three histories have helped shape Brisbane and Queensland.

Each of these groups has its own history and not all could be represented

equally in the outcomes of this project. For instance the Indigenous history

became tangential to this project and became an ‘absent presence’, due to

the Turrbal Association members non-involvement, a decision I respect.

However, developers, government and QUT stakeholders wanted their

version of ‘history in the making’ to be recorded and so not only offered

research funding but were also eager to tell me their stories. Furthermore,

often marginalised peoples, such as various local history groups, the elderly,

and disabled were willing to participate and proved to be particularly rich

sources of memories of the area. Collectively, the stories of these groups

compose a public history about Kelvin Grove as a place with an evolving

and complex identity. These digital stories differed from traditional digital

stories because they were constrained by their common focus upon one

specific place. All the stories needed to arise from a memory of, or a

relationship with, Kelvin Grove.

7

This multi-art form public history project offered various possibilities for

telling the history of Kelvin Grove. It also seemed to increase a sense of

community for individual participants, through the use of oral history and

digital storytelling (DST) in particular, by constructing a personal sense of

place, identity, and an awareness in individuals that they had been involved

in the formation of history.

Through my creative practice, I made selective and artistic choices. This

process of selection, inherent in the construction of any public history

project, was innovative in that I developed and used new techniques and

media. These processes are examined in the exegesis, which also identifies

the ethical issues I encountered during the process of ‘making’ this public

history.

I was able to produce research outcomes that may assist other

writer/producers undertaking public history projects. The techniques

included: trialling different representations of public history and a creative

non-fiction historical manuscript; oral history and DST interviewing

techniques in which participation from contributors played a central role; by

the collation of reflective data related to the practice of creating these art

forms; and the monitoring (through semi-structured interviews and a

reflective field work journal) of attitudes and values of the participants and

myself (as the writer/producer).

8

Richard Vella writes “…the task of the creative research candidate is to

formulate an exegetical perspective, a lens that provides discovery and

coherent understanding, yet at the same time embraces the creative work’s

contradictions, anomalies and ambiguities” (Vella, 2005, p. 2) and this has

been my approach. Recent work on the assessment of practice-led higher

degrees (Holbrook, St George, Ashburn, Graham, & Lawry, 2006) indicates

the need for the exegetical material to relate to the creative work. My

objective was to ensure that the exegetical component and the creative work

‘speak’ to each other in that the lessons learned in the research process are

reflected in the creative work.

This thesis is divided into two components: Part One, the exegesis and Part

Two, the creative work. In Part One chapters one to three set the contextual

framework in which the study was conducted, explore existing literature on

the topic and lay out the research methodology and design. Chapters four to

seven detail the processes employed by me as the writer/producer (of a

social history manuscript, a collection of digital stories) and evaluate the

effectiveness of their use as part of a multi art form public history project.

The problems and potential of a writer/producer in using oral history and

digital storytelling techniques to create material for a multi art form public

history are varied, so the themes of these chapters were selected to

illuminate areas of my research.

9

The creative manuscript, Part Two, demonstrates in practical form the way

that oral history techniques can help a social and an archival history to blend

effectively together. The manuscript demonstrates how oral history can be

successfully utilized to capture a recent history when an archival history is

absent. It was not my intention to compile a publication-ready manuscript.

Although a version of this document has been published (Klaebe, 2006) as I

will discuss below, it was my intention to write a rich source document,

filled with extensive footnotes, so as to create a manuscript that can easily

be edited into multiple publishable forms and used as reference material by

future researchers.

1.1

The research question

What are the problems and potentials of using oral history and digital

storytelling techniques in a multi art form public history project,

particularly regarding processes of the writer/producer’s artistic/editorial

selectivity and assembly of material (manuscript and digital stories) and the

related ethical issues?

Research argument

My experience of the KGUV history project suggests a need to

reconceptualise the role of the public historian to incorporate the roles of

10

facilitator, curator, writer/producer, editor and artistic director. Public

history can use new processes that allow contributors to become more

actively engaged in a project. I have termed this form of engagement

‘participatory public history’ because such nomenclature makes clear that

the history is not created solely for the public (with only passive

participation), but actively with the public. A multi-art form participatory

public history project requires the public historian to draw on diverse skills,

including academically-based historiographic and oral history skills and

methods, to creatively narrate and shape the material for popular

consumption, while still accommodating public participation. The particular

use of oral history techniques and their effectiveness in soliciting material

from the community, however, does raise problems relating to the reliability

of the material and its ownership.

Summary of outcomes1

This study produced:

1. A creative non-fiction historical manuscript

• An oral history collection (appendix 6).

• A historical book that has been created out of the manuscript and is

published by (Klaebe, 2006) which is appendix 7.

2. A DVD compilation of digital stories historically related to the

place, Kelvin Grove, produced during the fieldwork.

3. The accompanying exegesis.

1 Detail of outcomes is included in the methodology and design.

11

Content breakdown

Creative practice 70%

Exegetical component 30%

12

Chapter Two

Conceptual and Contextual Framework

This contemporary, creative practice-based PhD project investigates the

processes of and issues relating to ‘community’ participation in public

history projects. In this project ‘community’ is defined as the collective

convergence of social networks that relate to an interest in place, focused

around history groups and interested individuals wanting to reproduce their

memories, be entertained and participate in creative practice at the KGUV.

The conceptual framework lies in the intersection of geography, studies of

‘place’ and ‘history from below’ viewed from the perspective of, and

interrogated by, public and oral history techniques. Whereas the nature of

public and oral accounts emanate from whom one might label ‘below’, this

study is also dependent on the inclusion of powerful institutional agencies: a

university and a state government department. The thesis therefore explores

the relationship of this above/below project, the KGUV, and offers the

concept of the ‘participatory public history’ as a model for future urban

development.

One of the primary goals of the overall KGUV Sharing Stories history

project was to engage the community through the sharing and recording of

13

stories from within a new Brisbane urban development. In my role as

writer/producer, I have connected with individuals from within the

community. This has made it possible for me to produce, in collaboration

with that community, historical art forms that have creative and aesthetic

value. I have used both oral history and digital storytelling techniques to

encourage storytelling that focuses on a common sense of place.

Accordingly, the thesis is written in the context of a range of related

literatures that needed to encompass community development, memory

studies, related ethical issues, digital storytelling, historiographies with a

particular focus on public history and oral history techniques.

Many of these perspectives relate broadly to matters of cultural geography,

although this demand is not expressly addressed in the thesis. Suffice to say

that the thesis recognises that cultural geography has been an academic

concern since the 1930s when geographers began to consider the regional

perspective and ongoing scholarship between landscape and human

population as being as important as national identity (Berman, 2005). These

debates have gained momentum since this time. In a sense, this project can

be seen to be part of a discussion of what Jessica Berman calls

“cosmopolitan geography” (2005, pp. 295-296). This geography has its

location in the everyday myth and memory that historian Simon Schama

calls “the layers of the commonplace” (1995, p. 14). Schama points to the

importance of “a way of looking” at what we already have that often eludes

our recognition. Such ideas necessarily invoke statements about time and

14

space, especially in relation to Australian culture. Lesley Hawkes’

investigation of the ways in which Australian literature has used the

railways as a site to explore spatial belonging offers helpful parallels for this

project. Hawkes says:

Spatial awareness has been a developing, shifting and changing

experience that directly influences the way stories will be produced,

and these stories will influence the way history will be told.

(Hawkes, 2005)

This focus on the commonplace, the everyday, dovetails with Leon

Hitchcock’s ideas about the value of ‘history from below’ (Hitchcock,

2004). Whereas Schama focuses on the longevity and the institutional

power of myth and memory, Hitchcock is interested in representing working

class interests. It is noteworthy that, in this thesis, this focus sits alongside

the interests and demanding of institutional bodies such as the Department

of Housing. Yet the fit is not entirely problematic; one of the actions of the

Department of Housing is to assist the underprivileged to gain access to

housing.

Relationship to QUT

The Creative Industries Faculty at QUT recognises and fosters a

combination of traditional occupations such as design, writing, and

production, together with new media, distribution techniques and new

15

technology to produce creative content (Hartley, 2002). This innovative

hybridity encourages creative practitioners to incorporate traditional

epistemological and methodological approaches with new media creative

practice. Such an approach is demonstrated in this project, which combines

a written manuscript and digital stories as the creative practice component.

Practice-based PhD projects are still relatively new within Australian

universities. The knowledge value of the creative work gives rise to a new

epistemology, in this case, a research product (the manuscript and DVD)

while the exegesis also breaks new ground in its contribution to knowledge

through setting the creative work in a critical and theoretical context (Gray,

1996). The exegesis contributes to the processes and practices of

incorporating oral history techniques into a multi art form participatory

public history. This means the use of new media such as a website, narrative

photographic and visual art exhibitions and history trails and educational

aids.

The next chapter explores the rich and varied literatures and approaches to

public history, providing a context for both the creative and exegetical

components of this project. The background of the KGUV project is

provided. Memory studies, ethical issues, sense of self and digital

storytelling techniques are discussed.

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2.1

Literature Review

Haseman (2005) argues that the literature review is in some sense a

contextual review, which reviews the secondary literature, but also provides

an account of influential practitioners, periods and works, materials and

methods that are related to, or are likely to arise from the ‘techniques and

strategies of practice’, which will be used to document the research. This

approach structures the divisions of the literature review below.

Community development: the background to the KGUV

concept

In 1997 the UK Blair Government published the Creative Britain document

to enunciate a new vision for the arts. The arts were framed as part of the

national identity: available for the many, not just for the few and, somewhat

controversially, as a significant driver of the national economy. Many

Australians in government (Schwarten, 2005), academia (Coaldrake, 2005)

and industry (Copplin, 2005) were aware of this Creative Industries notion

and were closely watching British proceedings.

17

Senior management in the Department of Housing and at QUT discussed the

conceptual influences of urban planners Charles Landry and Comedia in terms

of creating an urban village. This was defined as a development of mixed

housing, retail and a university that would share a site. The concept was to mix

low and high income housing that could stand side by side, as well as blend

with an existing neighbourhood where all buildings were orientated to the

street. It was to be an environmentally friendly locale which encouraged

pedestrian activity and showcased an array of architecture. The housing

officials were aware that Landry had written about the potential of ‘creative

communities’, and so found the possibility of engaging a new building

development and its inhabitants through the practices of oral and written

storytelling intriguing.

According to Landry, a 1997 UK survey revealed that 84% of respondents

had a desire to live in a small village, compared to the 4% who actually did.

Landry states:

We cannot create enough villages to meet this aspiration. Instead, we

must make cities desirable places to live and be in, partly by recreating

the values that people perceive to exist in a village—a sense of place and

belonging, continuity, safety and predictability—and partly by nurturing

distinctly urban possibilities—buzz interaction, trade, unexpected

delight, and much more (Landry, 2000, p. xiii)

18

Since QUT’s Creative Industries Precinct opened in January 2004 much

research has been undertaken, in particular the work of Australian post

doctorate fellow, Marcus Foth, regarding connection within communities.

Foth’s work focuses on the ‘new’ community, in relation to the use of IT

and communication media networking (Foth, 2006). The point of difference

in my work is that Foth engages community using Information

Communication Technology (ICT) and I use the platform of public history.

Additionally, the work of CIF PhD candidate Jean Burgess in using DST in

what she terms acts of ‘vernacular creativity’(Burgess, 2004a) to engage

cultural citizenship offered helpful theoretical insights into the participatory

new media approach used in this project. By combining workshops to

facilitate vernacular creativity with a text-based approach to the history of

Kelvin Grove, this project actively engaged the community in the creation

of what could be quite appropriately termed a ‘public’ history.

Public history

An investigation into similarly large public history projects, both national

and international, was undertaken in the literature review. Projects that are

using DST and oral history techniques were my focus. Multi-art form public

history projects are targeted to investigate the role of the public historian in

those projects and to compare ethical, IP and copyright issues. While

researchers (including myself) lack legal training, the legal and ethical

19

diligence required to make certain the participants’ rights are considered,

must be brokered. I have examined this dilemma from the point of view of

the public historian below.

Public history method is closely linked with oral history practice because it

often uses oral history as a research method. The term ‘public history’ was

first used in the United States in the 1970s to describe the employment

outside universities of trained historians (Liddington & Ditchfield, 2005).

During the 1970s, the journalist, Studs Terkel, interviewed those people he

called ‘ordinary’ Americans who had been caught in the grip of the

Depression, documenting in their own words their survival and struggle

during the Roosevelt era of the 1930s (Terkel, 1970). His artful and

selective combination and editing of oral history transcripts from

interviewees was said to have captured a collective American spirit

(Thompson, 2000). Alex Haley attempted a similar project for black

Americans through his life-writing works based on oral histories (Haley,

1974; , 1987). Though the accuracy of Haley’s scholarship came under

question in some quarters (Shaw, 1991) one could argue that he exposed a

hunger for the narrative of the family history that existed and has persisted

since.

In Australia, an increasing academic value was placed on the use of oral

history from the 1970s, but while the ‘oral history’ movement grew, ‘public

history’ did not gain momentum until around the Bicentenary in 1988.

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Celebrations of the bicentenary continued to be supported and propelled by

numerous government-funded initiatives, which included the first Australian

postgraduate study opportunities in public history (Liddington & Ditchfield,

2005).

Nationally, a definition of public history often used is that devised by Paula

Hamilton and Paul Ashton, of the Australian Centre for Public History:

The practice of history by academically trained historians working

for public agencies or as freelancers outside the universities—

including work in heritage conservation, commissioned history,

museums, the media, education, radio, film interactive multimedia

and other areas. They are concerned with addressing the

relationship between audience, practice and social context.

(Hamilton, 2004)

Jennifer Evans (2003) goes further in her assessment by quoting Debra

DeRuyver, editor of the U.S. Public History Review Centre. This provides a

more helpful definition for my research:

Public history is a set of theories, methods, assumptions and

practices guiding the identification, preservation, interpretation and

presentation of historical artefacts, texts, structures and, landscapes

in conjunction with and for the public. Public history is the belief

that history and historical-cultural memory matter in the way people

go about their daily lives (Evans, 2003).

21

Since the Australian Centre opened in 1998 projects have been diverse and

include elements such as oral history collections, photographic collections

and books (Hamilton, 2004). The Centre had also been linked to a

postgraduate public history program within the Faculty of Humanities and

Social Sciences at UTS for over fifteen years, under the leadership of

Hamilton and Ashton, but the program was suspended in 2006. Since then,

few projects have featured the simultaneous mix of art form elements as

produced in the Sharing Stories initiative. While I have reviewed projects

and practitioners working in public history nationally and internationally,

because I am from the discipline of creative writing, within the Creative

Industries Faculty, I have limited this analysis to academically-based multi-

art form history projects that employ oral history and DST techniques,

particularly as written texts. I have made the decision to focus my analysis

in this way because the project deployed my creative practice (in both

corporate and creative writing) as well as my experience as an oral

historian.

The work of Hamilton and Ashton at the Australian Centre for Public

History (Hamilton, 2004), as well as the work of BBC History Online

(BBC, 2004), the US Public History Resource Centre ("Public History

Resource Centre", 2005), and the Oral History, the Journal of the Oral

History Society, represent a large source of material on practical and

22

theoretical issues that emerge in the practice and the study of public history,

which also informs my research.

In the United Kingdom, public history took some time to establish itself

within traditional academia, and primarily grew out of the oral history

movement in the 1990s with Alistair Thomson (1999), Joanna Bonat (1999),

and Robert Perks (Perks & Thomson, 2006b) as the major influences.

In the United States larger public history projects are increasingly

reconstructing community through oral history. Not all of these projects are

conducted by historians (some are anthropological, journalistic, educational

or social sciences based, for instance) but all of the practitioners examined

do use oral history as a part of their methodological ‘tool kit’, as I have.

Edige Giunta (2004) of New Jersey City University, conducts public history

research projects in relation to urban working class, often migrant,

communities. Giunta believes writers of memoir in the context of public

history can learn much from the structure of oral history, and says “both are

deeply rooted testimonial narratives that interweave both the personal and

collective” (Giunta, 2004). Thus public history projects can help enhance a

sense of community.

Mary Ann Villarreal (2004) found similar findings in a Texan community

she studied. However, Villarreal suggests that public historians need to also

23

turn their attention to the parks, institutions and local halls where people

have gathered and which hold significance and embody a sense of

communal space. This can give new meaning to ‘place’ and allow the

community’s stories to create maps.

Many areas have changed due to urban development and

experiences not only fill in the gaps, but also flesh out the narrative.

Participants’ stories are attached to one another and open the door to

another world (Villarreal, 2004).

How we see the ‘community’ is therefore important. Many of these ideas

speak to the relationship between oral and public history, which is complex

and continually evolving. Michel de Certeau (1988) famously argues for the

importance of the practices of “everyday life” as being integral to subject

formation. De Certeau suggests that it is possible to obtain a ‘spacial

narrative’ of a place that is informed by resistances to institutional and

ordered regulations. He defines a neighbourhood as:

…a dynamic notion requiring a progressive apprenticeship that

grows with the repetition of the dweller’s body’s engagement with

public space until it exercises a sort of appropriation of this space. It

is less an urban surface, transparent for everyone or statistically

measurable, than the possibility offered everyone to inscribe in the

city a multitude of trajectories whose hard core permanently remains

the private sphere. (de Certeau, Giard, & Pierre, 1998, p. 11)

24

De Certeau, like Schama, points to the issue of recognition of the private in

the city space. Many of de Certeau’s “resistances” are apparent in the digital

stories created for this thesis. For instance the memories of place held very

private stories for the digital storytellers: Teresa saw her home as a safe

location where her son would not have to cross the road to get to school

saying, “ Roger, remember! Go always on the left. Never cross the road”.

Whereas as de Certeau focuses on a particular space, the U.S. ‘The

Wallpaper Project’ for instance, encompassed the entire state of Ohio. It

included public art, exhibits, books, and an oral history collection, which

were the basis of an historical play titled ‘From Here’, based on 800 oral

histories from state residents. The project travelled the state for five years,

facilitating and collecting local oral histories, which were in turn

categorized into larger themes such as daily life, hard times, war and fun.

These were then edited and condensed by professional scriptwriters into a

generic template for locals to produce and perform.

Barber (2004), a public historian on ‘The Wallpaper Project’ (Barber, 2004)

found local farmers, teachers, and general community members were drawn

together and she noted most participants gained self-confidence from the

experience. The participants were empowered to become the storytellers or

rather the ‘story sharers’, of their own communities. It was a mostly

successful experiment in collaboration that encouraged the widest diversity

from the community. Their stories were ‘donated’ to the project, and then

25

re-appropriated by the facilitators, making the characters anonymous and

fusing their stories to create one collective narrative. The fusion of multiple

stories to create a single collective narrative is an important point of

difference between ‘Project Wallpaper’ and my work. My research was

intent on keeping the authenticity of each individual participant’s character

in the creative piece and digital stories, as opposed to creating a generic ‘no

name’ narrative.

With regard to the city space, the ‘London's Voices’ project was a three-

year program (2001-2004) curated by the Museum of London (led by Dr

Rob Perks) that was designed to engage diverse audiences through

innovative oral history projects ("London Voices", 2004). This multi-art

form public (though not solely historical) project includes postcards,

photographs, audio and dance. In spite of its diverse forms and subjects, it

was predominately a project that used oral history. The collection of 800

interviews was gathered, similarly to ‘The Wallpaper Project’, by

encouraging community participation, with simple ‘how to’ manuals

provided online, and then linking extracts of the work onto a website ("A

Century of Voices from Ohio", 2003). Permission to edit and shape the

gathered material, however, was not negotiated with the participants.

Instead facilitators gained permission from the participants to use their

stories in the project in any manner they wished from the outset. This was

the point of difference for my research, as I continually informed and sought

26

input from the participants about the processes and multiple end uses of

their material.

Oral history

While there are many definitions of oral history, the most concise is that of

Robert Perks and Alistair Thomson:

The interviewing of eye-witness participants in the events of the past

for the purposes of historical reconstruction (Perks & Thomson,

2006b p.xi).

Perks and Thomson concede, however, that oral history for some

practitioners is not just about making histories, but also empowering

individuals or social groups through the process of remembering and

reinterpreting the past, with emphasis on the value of the process itself, as

much as on the historical product it produces (2006b).

Perks and Thomson also differentiate between oral history and oral history

interviewing, as do Bryman (2001) and Burgess (Alan Bryman & Burgess,

1999) by describing the oral history interview as a qualitative research

method tool, thus providing a clearer definition for use in research practice.

Bryman’s definition is:

27

The oral history interview is largely an unstructured or semi-

structured interview in which the respondent is asked to recall events

from his or her past and to reflect on them (A Bryman, 2001, p. 505).

Bryman adds that oral history, as with life history interviews, is generally

associated with ‘life history method’, especially when combined with the

use of other personal documents, such as letters, photographs and diaries.

However, oral history interviews are “[s]omewhat more specific in tone, in

that the subject is asked to reflect upon specific events or periods in the past

(2001, p. 505).” He concedes that while there is always the possibility of

bias being introduced, because of inevitable memory lapses and distortions,

oral history interviews have nonetheless allowed the usually marginalised

voices of historical research to be heard. They can be regarded as

marginalised in the sense that they are perceived to lack power, or because

their stories are regarded individually as too banal or unexceptional to be

heard (2001).

Perks and Thomson suggest oral history can be a powerful tool for

discovering, exploring and evaluating the nature of the process of historical

memory; how people make sense of their past; how they connect individual

experience and its social context; how the past becomes the present; and

how people use it to interpret their lives and the world around them (Perks

& Thomson, 2006a, p. 2). My work includes extending the use of oral

28

history as a tool in this way, and was enabled by my having a highly

interactive relationship with the participants and their contributions.

This approach seems compatible with Bryman’s guidelines for qualitative

research strategies. I argue that a creative practitioner using oral history

methods should emphasize the use of particular words chosen by the

interviewer to engage the interviewee and be aware of the way in which

individuals interpret their social worlds. Therefore, oral history embodies a

view of social reality which is constantly shifting and is the emergent

property of each individual’s creation (A Bryman, 2001). In this context, the

oral history interview is particularly helpful to historians, writers,

sociologists, social scientists and social anthropologists who are functioning

within a qualitative research strategy (A Bryman, 2001).

Perks and Thomson identify four paradigmatic revolutions in oral history in

the revised Oral History Reader (Perks & Thomson, 2006b). These are the

postwar renaissance of memory as a source for ‘people’s’ history; the

development, from the late 1970s, of 'post-positivist' approaches to memory

and subjectivity; a transformation in perceptions about the role of the oral

historian as interviewer and analyst from the late 1980s; and the digital

revolution of the late 1990s and early 2000s (Perks & Thomson, 2006a).

Thomson suggests the oral historian has grappled with the “technical,

ethical and epistemological implications” in the last decade of this digital

revolution, but predicts their future, though perhaps uncomfortable for

29

some, has “never been so exciting or uncertain.” Thomson uses the work of

Frisch (also a founder of the oral history movement) an advocate of oral

history embracing new opportunities in recording and production and says,

“new digital tools and the rich landscape of practice they define may

become powerful resources in restoring one of the original appeals of oral

history - to open new dimensions of understanding and engagement through

the broadly inclusive sharing and interrogation of memory” (Thomson,

2006).

Oral history techniques

For the purpose of this research, the term ‘oral history techniques’ refers to

the use and practice of oral history interviewing.

In my literature review I concentrate on larger public historical projects that

primarily employ oral history techniques. An array of mechanical ‘How to

conduct an oral history interview’ guides exist, in part because of their

popularity with community projects and the ease in which one can be taught

to ‘follow the rules.’ Following this trend, Education Queensland has

introduced oral history tasks as part of their curriculum for ‘early years’ in

2005 (Education Queensland, 2005) after trialling its use by students in a

selection of schools across Queensland in 2004, one of which was Kelvin

Grove State College. In the United States ‘The Wallpaper Project’ similarly

30

designed a template for their oral history collection with available

information, which allowed school students to conduct the interviews and

helped foster intergenerational relations in a local community. ‘Kits’ with

set questions and work sheets were devised and made available on their web

home page as a resource to teachers involved with the project ("A Century

of Voices from Ohio", 2003). A scholarly approach requires, however, a

more sophisticated examination of technique. The Australian universities

that offer the study of oral history each have their own version of methods

in their course materials, but many also use Beth Robertson’s Oral History

Handbook (2000). Academics and private oral history practitioners use this

publication, now in its 5th edition, nationally (and increasingly

internationally) as a primary method guide to equipment use and procedure.

It outlines the procedure set by curators of all state libraries and the National

Library of Australia and was utilised as a starting point for this project.

Within the boundaries of qualitative research methodology, Bryman

suggests semi-structured interviews, such as the oral history technique, may

be used as the sole method in an investigation, or as part of a larger

ethnographic study2 and should be flexible in order to seek out world views

of the research participants (2001, p. 503). They should not be overly

structured and should allow for flexibility in the questions, while interviews

2 While the term ethnographer has traditionally referred to the research method in which a researcher immerses themselves into and social setting for a extended period of time, the term has a more inclusive sense than participant observation, which seems to emphasize the observational component, according to Bryman, and is now frequently used to refer to the written output of ethnographic research.

31

should also be recorded and transcribed. Bryman adds that it is also not the

norm to employ random sampling to select participants (2001, p. 331).

The American movement of oral history at present includes community

(Barber, 2004), academic (Schneider, 2004), and government practitioners

(Ritchie, 2004). Gluck (2004b), Frisch (2004), and Benmayor (2004)—all

pioneer academic commentators of oral history, who have devoted decades

to legitimising the use of oral history as a methodology in the face of

criticism from traditional historians and scepticism about its applied use by

academics such as Ronald Grele (1999). They have done this by teaching

and practising qualitative measures that strengthen an oral history’s

accuracy. Their current academic passion for robust oral history practices

has led them, via varied paths, to their current areas of research: presenting

audio effectively online, that is, getting the ‘oral’ back into oral history

(Gluck, 2004a); devising software and databases to store, retrieve and

‘break’ the oral history interview into key phrases (Donavan, 2005); and

developing undergraduate courses in digital storytelling, which encompass

the skills of this new storytelling medium, together with an understanding

about life-writing and the traditional methodologies of oral history.3

Grele’s criticism concerns the lack of academic rigour employed by

untrained users of oral history techniques, who are “ill prepared” and use

“badly formulated” questions and interviewing methodology, and are

3 Benmayer’s undergraduate home page: http://hcom.csumb.edu/oralhistory/

32

“willing to settle for journalistic standards of usefulness (Grele, 1999, pp.

179-180).” Instead, he recommends the interviewer needs to be devoted to

the research necessary to prepare for interviewing, so as to remain in control

of the required interviewing techniques. He suggests the interviewee should

be selected because they typify a historiography process and that questions

need to be asked about the accuracy of the participant’s memory or “the

intrusion of subjective or social biases” (1999, p. 180). Grele argues the oral

history interview is therefore better defined as “a conversational narrative:

conversational because of the relationship of interviewer and interviewee,

and narrative because of the form of exposition—the telling of the tale

(1999, p. 184).” Accordingly, he suggests effective oral history techniques

might also examine the transcript in relation to the linguistic, grammatical

and literary structure of the interview, the relationship between interviewer

and interviewee, and the relationship between the participant and the

appropriateness to the historical occasion in which it will be used (1999).

Grele concludes by suggesting oral historians need to:

Realize the potential of their work, and take it seriously enough to

become even more rigorous in their use of materials. Both theory and

rigorous practice are necessary if oral history is, in the words of Henry

Glassie, to contribute to ‘a revolution in diachronic theorizing and the

development of an understanding of what people really did in the

past.’

33

Grele spoke at the International Oral history conference (2006) and it was

clear that he is still as passionate about what he sees as the importance of

the practitioner having a thorough scholarly approach and understanding of

the complex processes and responsibilities in conducting any oral history

interview. He believes that oral history techniques can cross many

disciplines and he does not want to see the tool devalued by practitioners,

who do not apply appropriate rigour.

I paid attention to both Grele and Bryman’s suggestions while conducting

my research and observed and noted the relationship between the

interviewer/interviewee. Despite the validity of Grele’s concerns that oral

history be seen as academically rigorous, oral history does draw also on the

interpersonal skills and ability to establish rapport with the interviewee

when asking people to recall and reconstruct information. I believed a

participatory project could use oral history as a plausible method for

bridging the gap between individual and collective memory, but the

interviewer also should employ communicative skills and attempt to ‘read’ a

person’s responses and emotions. As Michael Frisch says oral history is:

…a powerful tool for discovering, exploring and evaluating the nature

of the process of historical memory—how people make sense of their

past, how they connect individual experience and in its social context,

how the past becomes part of the present, and how people use it to

interpret their lives and the world around them (Bornat, 1999, pp. 193-

205).

34

Helga Amesberger of the Institute of Conflict Research in Vienna, Austria,

wrote in a recent research paper relating to The Mauthausen Survivors

Documentation Project, an international oral history project, about the

importance of the interviewing methodology. She argues that as a

researcher, by discussing project design, difficulties and frictions, similar

large projects could then benefit from the findings (Amesberger &

Halbmayr, 2004). She finds it important to specify the sample of the

interviewees required in terms of age and gender, and in her work in

particular, in terms of nationality. Before interviewing began, workshops

were conducted with regional coordinators, which covered topics such as

the method of interviewing, access to interviewees, and ways of recording

and indexing interviews. From this a project manual was created. They were

also able to create a semi-structured list of questions for interviewers to use

as a basis and developed a questionnaire to record details of the participants.

Information about technical equipment was included in the manual.

Amesberger’s critical assessment of the project highlighted the importance

of the relationship between interviewer and interviewee and the importance

of trying to avoid secondary trauma for the interviewee. This was attempted

by providing historical background to the interviewer, considering different

traditions and ensuring the research took into account each geographical

region.

35

More relevant to my own project, all interviewers kept field diaries, where

they could record personal observations about atmosphere, interruptions and

their personal perceptions. Amesberger calls this oral history interviewing

technique “biographical narrative/life story interviews that have been

backed up with questionnaires (2004).” For Amesberger, the main problems

encountered were: the short time frame available across too many

continents/countries; differences between cultures between the interviewer

and interviewee, and the potential cultural biases in the life story as both the

interviewee and interviewer have been socialised in their own way. This has

not been a particular problem in my own work, given the more homogenous

nature of the participants – though age and gender were certainly variables

that required attention – for example in the degree of unfamiliarity of older

people with computers.

Bryman also emphasizes the importance of keeping field notes after the

interview; recording how the interview went (physical description of the

interviewee and gestures or body language); where it took place; the setting;

and any other perceptions, such as whether it opened up new leads (2001, p.

318).

Mary Ann Villarreal researched Texan migrant communities using oral

history technique as her research strategy. She points out that “like many

scholars who rely on oral histories, I had to go through the process of being

interviewed by my narrators (Villarreal, 2004).” She found that in the

36

process of the oral history interview, she could not separate herself from the

communities as they “gave me their stories, what remains in their

memories.” She argues in her research of inner city commercial

redevelopment that oral histories not only give new meaning to places, but

also play a significant role in locating sites that are important to a

development, which truncates the residential balance of a district.

Thus issues including the appropriateness and validity of chosen

interviewees, the psychological pitfalls and opportunities of imperfect

memory or recollection, editorial intervention and selectivity regarding the

interviewer’s role in reshaping history, the philosophical hermeneutics

regarding ethical dilemmas and truthfulness, and the ‘authenticity’ and

effectiveness of attempting to engage community inform my creative

practice. A combination of an academic approach and rigor, combined with

a more intuitive or interpersonal understanding of the interviewee (aided by

my reflective journal notes) is therefore employed. These processes are the

underpinning of the methodology.

Memory studies

While I do not have a social science background, it was important I

understood the fallibility and subjectivity that the process of recalling

memory can bring to an oral history interview. Accordingly, I examined the

works of a number of researchers that relate to oral history as a qualitative

37

research method.

Verena Alberti’s work with oral history consists of recording interviews

(which have historical and documental proprieties) with the witnesses of

events, conjunctures, movements, institutions and ways of living. Similarly

to many other practitioners who believe the foundation of any project using

oral history techniques is in the narrative constructed, she argues: “An event

or a situation lived by the interviewee cannot be transmitted to any other

person without being narrated (2004)”. From her own fieldwork, Dianna

Allan of Harvard University believes the emphasis on place in historical

narratives in relation to identity, authenticity and belonging, investigates the

restoration of community through local narratives; the merging of personal

memory with pedagogical commemoration to the point where past

experiences permeate the fabric of everyday contemporary life (2004).

The use of the participant’s own voice, and the telling of ‘their’ story is

primary in oral history techniques. Bryman, Burgess (1999) and Bornat

(1999, pp. 193-204) argue that the assistance of the facilitator is crucial in

encouraging the participant to accept that their story is worth telling and in

providing an enabling space for the telling.

My research initially focused on trends and attitudes toward community

storytelling and the associated methodologies that specifically dealt with the

magnitude of managing the processes of memory recall for large projects.

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Donald Ritchie critically discusses ways of minimising problems associated

with memory recall on large historical projects, such as highlighting the

need to check interviews with traditional historical evidence and to

understand that people will often ‘shape’ (that is, reshape) stories over time

(2004). In his years working as a historian for the United States Senate,

Ritchie has come to expect stories to alter, as the years pass, but does not

see this as a problem as long as it is anticipated. He says, “like historians,

individuals reinterpret their historical memories and recast earlier

judgements. Memories can mellow over time.” (1994)

Jan Vansina reiterates Ritchie’s thoughts by suggesting that historians

creating collective histories must understand the importance of reflecting

the traditions of both past and present, “…in the same breath” (1985).

Oral traditions are documents of the present, because they are told in

the present. Yet they embody a message of the past, so they are

expressions of the past at the same time. They are a representation of

the past in the present (Vansina, 1985).

An oral history, which is credibly collected as accurately as possible, and

which allows for development by intercession and shaping by the

interviewer, as well as continuity, by helping to convey a tale worth telling,

still depends largely on unverifiable aspects of the intrinsically unreliable

memory of the ‘historical witness’, and therefore must be carefully

considered. This scrutiny is aided by a comprehensive examination of the

39

project’s implications through the work of Lewis Barker (1994), Frank

Ankersmit (2001) and Vansina (1985) who all examine the workings of

memory and history. They agree that the importance of understanding and

recognizing the “cultural milieu at the time the memory was formed

(Barker, 1994)” is crucial in being able to judge whether a memory is valid.

This principle applied to my project. Similarly, Sally Chandler’s work

involving generational analysis alerted me to identity questions. She says,

“[b]oth cultural myths and autobiographical memory provide a base for

constructing coherent stories for who we are, both as individuals and within

a community (2004).” I extend my critique of this theory further in the

exegesis, reflecting on the data from the interviewees’ transcripts, using a

definition of memory as the knowledge or impression that somebody retains

of a particular person, event, period or subject.

The research of oral history methods usefully informed my creative

practice. It also assisted my reflection process upon the storytelling and my

role as the editor/writer of other peoples’ stories. Reinforcing Grele’s

suggestion of examining the transcript in relation to the three relationships

that shape it (1999), Portelli argues:

The control of the historical discourse lies firmly in the hands of the

historian. The historian selects the people who will be interviewed;

who contributed to the shaping of the testimony by asking the

questions and reacting to the answers; and who gives testimony its

final published shape and context (if only in terms of montage and

40

transcription). It is clear that the class does not speak in the abstract,

but speaks 'to' the historian 'with' the historian and insomuch as the

material is published ‘through’ the historian (Portelli, 2000).

Allan points out that “it is now widely acknowledged that memory, like

identity, is not immutable and continuously adapts to the needs of the

community, engaged as much with present as with past interests of the

group ” (2004). She suggests the oral history transcripts be used in a partial

form, taking the shape of anecdotal reminiscences that are subtle,

associative and often more deeply concerned with commenting on the

present than memorializing the past. I found this approach to be relevant to

the ways I wanted to use the narratives from my transcripts in the

manuscript.

David Forgacs and David Foot (2004) of the University College of London

were supported by a grant from the Arts and Humanities Research Board in

the UK to use oral history, among other sources, to examine the ways in

which residents' memories are 'located' in particular urban areas which have

undergone long-term changes (demographic, changes to the built fabric,

changes of political and other subcultures and, in some cases, sudden

changes, such as those produced by war or natural disaster). The research

aimed, through a combination of empirical city studies and theoretical

reflections, to develop an innovative account of the relations between place

and memory. They found ‘habit memory' or semi conscious recalling

41

evolved as a result of repeated movements, of routes and past landmarks or

familiar buildings, which they describe as 'secular pilgrimages'. They

suggest filming can create a richer document, as it allows us to study the

gestures, movements, and ways in which words are framed, both physically

and visually, but while it can produce a desired 'sound bite', these cut pieces

can diminish the narrative qualities that are so important in oral history.

In this discussion I am aware of the complexities of the term ‘place’. Place

is often interpreted as a means of story, enabling, or taboo, or an ambiguous

position, Place can also be defined by boundaries that have symbolic

meaning for people in both urban and rural environments. Creative writers

such as David Malouf have carefully documented the darker ‘space’ under

old Brisbane houses set high on stumps as constituting a taboo area that is

still enticing for children (1985).

Foot and Forgacs’ examination of urban areas that have undergone long-

term change discusses accounts of the relations between place and memory.

They record ‘habit memory’ or semi-conscious recalling as a result of

repeated movements, of routes and landmarks, familiar buildings, such as

'secular pilgrimages'. Their work found place and event memories often

serve as aids or triggers of memory, and that memories of a single event

interconnect with individual and collective accounts about neighbourhoods

over a more extended period of time. Interestingly, from my point of view,

they found memories about transformations in these areas tend to be linked

42

more to specific historical events (for example WWII) than to the physical

signs such as the closing of factories (Forgacs & Foot, 2004). Foot and

Forgacs believe that filming interviews can create a richer document, rather

than oral history transcripts alone, as this allows the study of gestures,

movements, and ways in which words are framed physically and visually.

But their research findings warn that filming can also affect the interviewee,

by producing a more performance-type interview (2004). Filming can

satisfy the desire for a 'sound bite' which may, however, diminish the

narrative qualities that are important for oral history. By using digital

storytelling, I was able to achieve a mix of both, which suited the outcomes

of this work. Instead of a sound bite being edited and perhaps used out of

context, the digital story, though edited, became a stand-alone narrated

product that was produced in partnership with the participant.

Sally Chandler’s research into generational characteristics of different time

periods found generational cohorts share assumptions, values and patterns

of speech. She believes subjectivity is as much the business of oral history

as the more visible 'facts'; it is the ‘autobiographical memory’. Since oral

history has connections to history, sociology and folklore, it is a form of

'reminiscence research' and therefore has deep roots in psychology and may

include fictional elements. She argues there are age-related changes in

memory, as experiences are gathered across a lifetime: "[p]ersonal

autobiographical memory is functionally and structurally related to cultural

myths and social narratives (Chandler, 2004)."

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Chandler suggests that both cultural myths and autobiographical memory

provide a base for “constructing coherent stories of who we are, both as

individuals and within a community.” She found in her research that

children from the first half of the 20th century formed their identity through

participation in collective narratives (from school, church, community). But

because of a post WWII shift from communally transferred to individually

constructed narratives for identity stories, “autobiographical memories in

21st century United States serve functions previously performed by larger

cultural narratives (2004).” Her conclusion that older cohorts collectively

agree upon social identities proved pertinent to the people I interviewed and

the timeframe discussed. In early interviews with elderly members of the

community, their memory clearly derives both an individual and

generational identity from their experience of the Second World War.

Mary Ann Villarreal’s research regarding memory found that the applied

meaning of places becomes clear in a map of the social, political and

physical terrain. These places were etched into people's memories—

memories not in the historical narrative or in the county or state museum,

but oral history memories that shaped the community's identity (Villarreal,

2004). Thus the scope of my project as focused on the Kelvin Grove area

proved valuable in achieving or attaining coherent narratives. Again

‘community’ is an awkward term and so I have also researched the work of

Randy Stoecker, an academic in community-based participatory research

44

projects (although not historically based work). Stoecker believes a category

of people who share a characteristic (for example, a disability) does not

define community. Instead he sees community as “…a face to face group of

people who share cultural characteristics, share resources, share space and

interact with each other on a regular basis” (2005). This face-to-face

element of his definition is also quite different from the ‘online’

communities discussed by Foth. If community is only about face-to-face,

then examining the role digital play has in building a sense of community

would be worth researching as an extension of this study. I would critically

argue however that to incorporate this participatory research methodology

with a new media approach to cultural citizenship (Burgess, Foth, & Klaebe,

2006) is a beneficial mix for a public history project based on a location.

Alistair Thomson, whose oral history research produced Anzac Memories:

Living with the Legend (1994) insists military historians rightly argue that

personal narratives illuminate experiences which might otherwise be

undocumented, particularly those of 'ordinary' men and women in the ranks,

and offer insights into the meanings of events for participants. But he

believes historians often limit themselves to life stories from sources such as

diaries, letters, written memoirs and recorded memories inter-changeably

and uncritically, as if each variety of personal testimony can be used in

exactly the same way and offers the same type of corroborating evidence

about the course of events and the participant's motivations, thoughts and

feelings. He found that oral history was useful in conveying atmosphere, but

45

concedes it can be highly unreliable and that “research should scrape away

the contaminants of memory to reveal the kernel of original experience”

(Thomson, 2002). He adds:

…the reasons why people relate and record their life stories—the

'autobiographical imperative'—have a significant impact upon what

they choose to say about their lives. The 'psychic underlay' of personal

testimony, the deep-rooted psychological forces that shape our

experience and which inform the struggle to make sense, and to create

a story that works for us and a past we can live with (2002, pp. 52-59).

He believes that by asking questions about where and when a personal

account was produced, the interviewer can begin to explore the personal and

cultural meanings that inform narratives from different times and places.

Stories produced for this project may be tempered by the fact that it is a

history of place and my role in this participatory public history is to mediate

these experiences and to stay focused on this foundation.

Associated ethical issues

Howard Becker, in Denzin and Lincoln (1999) provides a useful

examination of ethical issues within qualitative methodologies, as does

Bryman (2001) whose work includes related social research strategies, such

as the structuring of questions for semi-structured interviews and reflective

journal usage. Howard Becker argues that when one does research by

46

interview it is not possible to be totally objective about the data and that we

must limit our conclusions carefully—and recognise the hierarchy of

credibility for what it is, and field as best we can, the accusations and doubts

we may have (Becker, 1999).

Both of these approaches are implemented in my research practices. More

specific argument about the use of ethnography comes from Rosaldo, who

examines the position of the researcher and the power relations involved in

ethnographic research and considers the central question of who speaks for

whom and on what authority (1989). Rosaldo discusses how linkages

between academic training and personal experience can drive a

reassessment of the notion of ‘truth’, which I found important to consider as

my project progressed and as I employed new processes. These processes

allowed the interviewee to critically examine how I had shaped their stories

and gave them the right and opportunity to change the content I had

produced about them if they so desired.

Verena Alberti, for the Centre for Contemporary Histories in Brazil,

believes oral history techniques consist of recording interviews, which have

historical and documental proprieties, with actors or witnesses of events,

conjunctures, movements, institutions and ways of living, and that one of its

basic foundations is the narrative. An event or a situation lived by the

interviewee cannot be transmitted to any other person without being

narrated to the interviewer; the narrative ‘frames itself (2004)’. That is, the

47

narrative transforms what has been lived into language, by selecting and

organising facts and the work of language that is common in all narratives:

“interviews are trails for one to know the past—narrative in oral history

frames the past (2004).” I attempted to be conscious of this sensitivity in the

way I helped to shape the narrative of recalled events, especially in the

crafted text-based digital story narratives, by not imposing my aesthetic

choices except in ways that generally were needed to make the story more

coherent or personal.

Alberti concedes that one or more versions of the interviewee’s life story

may exist. While the interviewer may gather a lot of information, it may or

may not be factual. However, every interview may hold a story and great

treasures are to be found in oral history as they are, “melded aesthetically

objective and meaningful statements (events) presented to the public

together with proposals of historical interpretation. They enable an

enlargement of knowledge (2004).”

But given this, ethical ramifications were considered seriously with regard

to the oral histories. I found the stories shared by the KGUV team

stakeholders seemed to gain credibility when dedicated to the public sphere.

Events were afforded the status of ‘official’ once committed to text. For

instance, I have heard many versions of how the KGUV development came

about, but the version I hear the Minister repeat now is a practised recital of

the version I created for the publication—a blended narrative formed from

48

all the interviewees’ perspectives. His practised version, I would argue, is a

more authentic inclusive reading than the version he told me in our initial

interview, where he had no other person’s perspectives to align his

memories with. From an academic historical perspective this outcome

remains of course uncontested, yet as a writer and producer of public history

works, this attempt to moderate each institution’s viewpoint about their own

success by combining a cross section of individual accounts—or providing a

‘helicopter’ view—seemed an appropriate approach for the purpose of this

research.

Ursula Murray, of the University of Hertfordshire in the UK, has used oral

history for her research work into the public service, which was of interest

to me because of the number of government officials I interviewed, each

with their own narrative of the Kelvin Grove Urban Village. Murray

describes her work as that of a ‘reflexive participant, contributing as well as

observing and enquiring’(Murray, Noble, & Grey, 2004). In the stories that

arose from her work she found both an expression of the impact of

privatization but also the useful role of preserving individual and collective

memory of states of mind and intensity of feelings being experienced during

the interview process.

We adjusted to working in this evolving context; a conflict of

ideologies and ethical choices faces all of us on a daily basis. We

become 'practical ethical authors' actually involved in shaping a

history in the moment. This narrative research into the 'meaning' of

49

public services has an oral history dimension in that it captures these

passing forms of relatedness being replaced by new ways of thinking

and being (Murray, Noble, & Grey, 2004).

Murray drew on the ‘biographical investigative’ narrative method in her oral

history interviews with current and former senior managers in local

government, primarily in the hope that this may have evolved into a 'group

autobiography' (2004). The process of engagement created various settings

for meaningful participation with contested voices and narratives—as users

of services, voluntary sector groups, and as adult educators.

Murray is convinced that 'public conversations' are a developing narrative

for public services. But she believes her role ethically changed to that of a

‘storyteller’, not interviewer, as the interview was a shared experience; in

this context individuals and collective identities are inseparable: “a

researcher's own interaction is involved and the co-creation of events must

of necessity be the starting point.” But she warns:

… the less the historian reveals about their identity and thoughts, the

more likely informants are to couch their testimony in the broadest

and safest terms, and to stick to the more superficial layers of their

conscience and the more public and official aspects of their culture

(2004).

50

She states that relations between the interviewer and the interviewee shape

how, where, and to whom stories are told and retold and that understandably

people fall silent if words are too dangerous politically (perhaps threatening

their work place position). Murray says that personal reflection is not the

task of the subject alone, it comes as the shared price of self-analysis and

the consciousness-raising of the interviewer. Her advice is to “be open and

free of preconceptions to gestures or silences (2004)” again reiterating

Bryman’s and Becker’s recommendation to value the reflective journal of

the interviewer that records the details of the interview situation itself

(1999; A Bryman, 2001). Murray concludes: “And what of my own self?

Each story reflects in some way a resonance within me. I have been changed

by my research process and my separate worlds pulled into closer

connection (2004).” I also found myself very much a part of the process in

my own research and the ongoing effect is still resonating with the

community and with me.

Tim Bowden, an Australian broadcaster and oral historian, finds the spoken

interview material to be an indispensable tool to an author of non-fiction

biography, history and travel books. He regards the manipulation of the oral

history transcript as an important ethical dilemma: “[S]killfully handled

quotations can reflect the class and educational background of contributors,

without giving offence (Bowden, 2005).”

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Bowden warns against the writer becoming overly interventionist about the

‘art’ or oral history in print and believes there is a danger of losing the

impact of what “makes oral history such a powerful instrument of personal

testimony—the ‘real’ voices of the people (2005).” I am assuming here that

Bowden is defining ‘real’ as genuine and authentic, and so not artificial in

the aural delivery or in the construction of the narrative. There is however,

no scrutineering as to whether what the voices say is in fact ‘truth’, and as

previously stated, this was not a focus of the research. While I can

understand Bowden’s pursuit for ‘authentic’, I do see DST as offering an

opportunity for a participant to still deliver a ‘real’ testimony bearing in

mind the dilemmas of authenticity. DST is simply an extension of Bowden’s

oral history approach, using a process that embraces new media.

Other Australian scholars, including Rebecca Jones of Monash University,

believe the relationship between the narrator and the writer is influenced by

the power relationships inherent in oral history. As such, it is governed by

ethical responsibilities: “[W]e, as authors, have to balance responsibilities to

the narrator, to the audience and the content of the stories, and the decisions

we make in balancing these responsibilities are dependent on the purpose of

the project (Jones, 2004).”

While conceding there is a dilemma for the writer of the published text, as

to what degree it is appropriate to edit the words of the narrator, Jones

believes that when publishing for a general audience, extensive editing can

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be necessary to create a document that is readily readable and accessible,

but still conveys the ‘flavour’ of the experiences (2004).

Bowden argues that this approach produces work that is banal, generic and

demeaning to the interviewee, as it strips the interviewee of their personality

and does so:

… at the expense of the smell, feel, flavour and character of the

interviewee. To say the reader will fall over at the first hurdle of

idiomatic or colloquial speech is to denigrate the reader’s

intelligence and homogenise the entire product in a way that makes

me wonder: ‘Why do oral history in the first place (2005)?’”

I found a compromise between these positions was most viable for my own

work. I limited the editing to what was necessary to create a coherent

narrative, while striving to retain the authentic voice of the participants.

Everyone may have a story, but during the project I often used the analogy

that each was like a new found gem—while all were precious, some needed

me to clean, cut and polish them a little more than others, which may have

required no work at all. They all, however, needed to be held up to the light

(published or produced) to be seen and shared. I wanted them to be

illuminated in the most favourable light to satisfy the participant’s own

sense of self and make some of the invisible partakers in history visible.

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Sense of self

While this was not a focus of my research, it is important to have a sense of

what the academic literature in this area states, especially as it seems to have

a direct bearing on each interviewee who participated in this project.

Personal

According to Richard Freadman, the preoccupation with all things

auto/biographical has come to define a contemporary cultural moment. With

more and more people telling their own story, to an ever-widening and

increasingly eager audience (Rusk, 2002) the reading and writing of creative

historical storytelling, and the capturing of the ‘collective life’ of a

community, are trends worth further investigation in a subsequent study. As

my project used oral history interviewing techniques to add personal

accounts to the history of Kelvin Grove, many of the interviews were long

and covered an extended period of people’s lives. Consequently I felt that

this area was worth critiquing to further inform my creative practice.

Community

It is not yet clear what impact the social engagement and its relationship

with urban development will have in generating monetary benefits in terms

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of flow-on stimulation of the social economy ("Communities need power

and influence ", 2004). Again, this was not a primary concern of this

research. However, outcomes do relate directly to funding opportunities

within urban developments, and so require some degree of attention in this

review.

As this is an emerging research area, relevant literature in this field is

available predominantly through electronic resources. Of particular interest

is emancipatory research as a medium for social conversion (Oliver, 2004)

and the research of Gill and Howard into cultivating a logic of place and

identity in a globalised world (2001). Their work in relation to the Sydney

Olympics in 2000 examined the issue of national identity in terms of a ‘felt’

recognition of belonging and of the desire to identify with a place. I found

this of interest in relation to Kelvin Grove the ‘place’, where many people

seemed to feel a sense of belonging and identity, because of their

institutional associations with the physical location. This may have

accounted for the absence of negative stories in the interviews. Because no

families (in recent history) were displaced by the KGUV development, as

the developed area was not previously residential, and the residential area is

these days an essentially middle class suburb that has benefited from

proximity to the CBD and Brisbane’s rising property values, memories

seemed more nostalgic and related to pleasant recollection of events that

occurred here. I had the sense of the proud territoriality of the people, and

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the absorption of their domain into their sense of belonging in a positive

way.

Ross Gibson suggests we all “take our shape from the shards of the past”

and that “a pristine past is not real and not worth recapturing (2005a) .” He

is concerned that if the ‘ordinariness’ of everyday life is not thought of as

important, then people move on and there is no one left to take ownership of

the memories. He believes we need to respond to the ‘historical fragments’

we find in our research and that a good scholar applies imagination to

evidence in order to be a good historian as well. He says: “we must sit

between the creative writer, the historian and the fiction writer, because

conventional historiographical technique alone will come up short (2005a).”

One of the most sensitive issues in regard to the discussion of KGUV

involved the Indigenous community, the Turrbal people. If de Certeau’s

comment that “places people live in are like the presences of diverse

absences” (de Certeau, 1988, p. 108) is valid, then the ‘presence of absence’

of the Turrbal clan haunts the site of KGUV. One of the positive aspects of

this investigation is that my research did not only help people gain a sense

of belonging in the present, but gave them a keener sense of ownership of

the past and allowed them to feel, if only vaguely, a continuum of past and

present. Pertinent to this, my aim has been to indeed ‘sit in between’

disciplines and attempt to understand the multi-layering and fluidity of the

site’s memory.

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Dianna Allan’s research in Lebanon suggests that it is possible to help

restore community through local narratives (oral history interviews) and she

found that, “[p]ersonal memory merged with pedagogical commemoration

to the point where the past so thoroughly permeates inter-subjective

relations that even generations who did not experience events are, in some

sense, expected to claim them as their own (Allan, 2004).”

Digital storytelling techniques

First, I will again define digital storytelling, in the context of this project.

Generally, digital stories are produced in intensive workshops. The outcome

is a combination of a personally narrated piece of writing (audio track),

photographic images and sometimes music or other aural ambience is

added. These components amalgamate to produce a 2-3 minute film.