If we imagined memory as this: Every picture, every record or CD or downloaded song, every VHS or .mov, every yearbook, every note taken, every moment shared—we'd be overwhelmed how scattered those memories are. Usually we don't think that way. These material "memories" are tucked away in storage, either physically or digitally, while our "real memories" are the thoughts that rush back through the neurons into our conscious mind.
Niles Lichtenstein, co-founder of The History Project, has many of those neural memories of his father, but not enough. His father died when Lichtenstein was just 12, leaving behind scattered markings of his life and interests. One day, as an adult, Lichtenstein came across an album collection he had gathered with his dad. Music was a key connection for them. Motown, Beatles, Eagles.
"The song 'Desperado' ... that brought a ton of memories back," he says. "And while I was going through those high highs, I really hit a low. I realized I don't know as much about this person as I want."
He went on a mission to find any information he could about his father. It was time-consuming and rewarding. And it wasn't so hard to upload the information to the new digital memory, plus he also found important information online, but in the end, "I was left with this Dropbox of media files." The result of the work was pretty underwhelming and not very shareable.
"There's got to be a better way," he thought and went looking.
Ancestry.com has its place in the way we knit our heritage together. Facebook can be used, either algorithmically or intentionally, to create a timeline of our post-able memories. A blog could help Lichtenstein shape the story. A book. An oral history. But each lacked another element he wanted. His c0-founder Ben Yee had the same problem, but on the opposite side of the life spectrum. Yee was frustrated that all of the media of his newborn child lacked a vibrant place where he could create and share them as digital narratives.
The result was a website that launched yesterday, backed by The New York Times, and intended to take on any memory or memories through words, audio, video and photos. It is built to take those scattered documents and organize them in meaningful ways. In addition to a user's own files, which are organized through timelines and maps, embeds from the web, such as YouTube videos of events or songs, contextualize the experience.
"Our notion was that our history is not just the memories we create, but the media we consume," Lichtenstein explained from his Oakland-based office. "So as you build your timeline, we'll bubble up the Billboard charts and that song that takes you back to that time."
Lichtenstein pitches The History Project as a "modern time capsule," very different from a modern attic.
"We're not necessarily about storing everything," he says, although it does integrate with Dropbox to offer that alternative. "We want people to have this filter. And I think people have it."
But we all know it's not that easy. If you can find everything you'd want, congratulations. You still have to organize it. If you can do that, you've passed by a lot of us. But there's another problem for many: How to shape these memories into meaningful stories? That might be harder now, when many of us are accustomed to sharing our stories via status updates.
"We want to get into the cultural consciousness," Lichtenstein says, "that we have a choice beyond just posting to Facebook."
Success might not be simple to measure. As user-friendly as The History Project is, it still takes work. And it's very likely that the tool could be inward-looking for many users, a place to reflect on a moment or a lifetime of moments. For others, it might be sharing with mass audiences. Many possibilities exist between. One way success might be measured is the depth of engagement. The more artifacts added, the more time spent creating and thinking, the more successful the site would be.
To help that along, The History Project is working with media companies (such as HBO) as well as libraries, school systems and beyond to teach and help us shape our own narrative. The company has started a blog for both basic and sticky questions about such work. But at a premium level, a user can choose the Concierge Service. That either means getting help to start ($295) or having someone there for the whole production ($995).
Lichtenstein also sees the possibility of collaboration between friends, or family members or maybe even strangers. That kind of connection, made both offline and online, focuses on sharing more than telling.
"It's the notion of the history of we," Lichtenstein says, "different than social media, which focuses on the history of me."
Note: This is the eighth post in a series about how your life story emerges online, sometimes intentionally and sometimes not. It is partially based on reading I am doing for a Ph.D. in Public Communication and Technology at Colorado State University, but will also include interviews. Here are the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh articles of the series.
