A Lesson on Ethics in the Archive

Recently, I’ve acquired a fascination for archives. Their immense capability of both preserving and dictating memories of people, places, and eras is captivating, and a careful balance to maintain. When I joined Franklin Furnace for their 2020 Summer Internship, I was excited to work with their collection of digital archives, looking forward to peering into a piece of art history.

I was assigned the task of researching and revamping Franklin Furnace’s Wikipedia page. I was to go through the Franklin Furnace website and their event archives, and select information to input on the Wikipedia page. At times, the work felt tedious: switching between tabs, synthesizing information into my own words, and constantly organizing photographs and documents. However, during my research, I would stumble upon tidbits of information that made me pause and made it all worth it. I found artists who I had no idea worked with Franklin Furnace, artists who have extensive experience in the art world, and artists whose experience with art began and ended with Franklin Furnace. I was witnessing the varying degrees of memory, of a person’s presence within the archive. And I had the responsibility to construct the Wikipedia page– an archive of itself– in a way that would fairly preserve artists’ memory. 

Although it may have been easier and involved less research to solely include artists who were established outside of the Franklin Furnace archive, that would mean the memory of those who existed only in the Franklin Furnace archive would be hindered, inhibited, and possibly finished. Thus, I went out of my way to include little known artists, artists whose memory will live on inside a free, public domain. And who knows, maybe a viewer of the page will be influenced by these artists, creating content and art that lives on and extends their memory.

 Drawing from the work of one of my favorite writers, Saidiya Hartman, who has spoken about the “violence” of the archive, I quickly realized what the violence looked like in this context. I assumed responsibility as a researcher and as a wannabe archivist to acknowledge the difference between an ethical and violent archive- the distinction relies on the actions of whoever maintains the content of the archive. If I had only included famous artists, artists who still have a pronounced legacy, I would be committing an act of violence, no matter how miniscule it seems. 

I hope to take this profound lesson with me in the years to come, to be constantly questioning: who or what is being excluded, or at threat of being excluded from the archive, a collective memory?

Kayla LeGrand