Historians study time. More specifically we explore past events, digging through the dunes of the ages for dusty, faded stories. We then gather, interpret, organise, and present these tales as histories. Time visualisations, such as timelines, can help order and frame these histories. The digital age grants us new tools to improve and reimagine the classic timeline. So why are so few writers discussing this?
Seeking information, I dug into databases like Jstor and Proquest, and looked broadly over Google Scholar. I found early sprouts of discussion around digital time. Most articles were written in the 2010s, across a range of disciplines and languages.[1] Historians, archaeologists, psychologists, media designers and philosophers explored the possibilities (and risks) of the digital medium. There are quantitative, technical studies of graphics, and qualitative critiques of the narratives these graphs display.
I was intrigued by the variety of digital timelines the articles described. Quantity focused timewheels, splitting and merging lines, 3d graphs and even circular timelines reimagine time in new ways. Their designers question our reliance on the familiar single-chain-of-events (unilinear timelines). But I’m not yet convinced. Many new tools suffer from a lack of usability, both in navigating and reading. Discussing these graphs in class, many students mentioned their struggle to understand complex, non-linear graphs. We agreed on the need for usability testing, to weigh the value of a specialised graph against its readability.
Visualising time shapes our perspective on history. Yet by re-framing events in the same eras, these perspectives can become routine and limiting. One student noted that some timelines of complex events (e.g., WWII) could be split into fifty different timelines. Further, choosing a limited range of dates may hide historic context (e.g., limiting WWII to 1939-1945). However, if the point of a timeline is to summarise a historical narrative, too much context might be distracting.
Putting these ideas into practice, I tested some digital timeline tools. Online options (such as ‘time graphics’, below) were helpful, but I was limited to free trials. I later learnt of Knightlab, which I tested here. Specialised graphs were unfortunately out of my reach, needing to be purchased or custom built. Designing a graph, it seems, is as much a project as placing history within it.
To make up for this absence, I tested online digital tools. These ranged from the university-funded ‘Overland Trails’ and ‘ORBIS’, to the non-academic (but no less notable) ‘Fallen of World War II’. The former two are excellent examples of time as a measure of duration as well as date; a point few articles recognised. Many tools were the victims of the same technologies they explored. Some are reliant on discontinued software. Others are poorly reproduced in digital articles, losing key details. As with any tool, durability should be an important concern for digital graphers.
Unlike technical guides, critiques of digital timelines were rare. A notable exception was by Bettina Fabos, warning that the images we associate with time shapes our historic narratives. Fabos’ claim that an objective timeline is impossible stirred the class discussion. Some students noted that while modern historians rely on objective, fixed dates, common people in history rarely focused on strict times. So how can we display loose cultural views of time on fixed scales?
Even how we image time itself varies. Different cultural tools and metaphors can reshape our concept of time. In class, we discussed how someone using a nine-season arctic calendar may organise history. We also tested ‘where’ we imagined the past. Most pointed backwards, although one pointed left to right. Another saw the past as ahead, using the Māori conceptKia whakatōmuri te haere whakamua (I walk backwards into the future with my eyes fixed on my past). Others said they saw time in different “colours” or “brightness”, mirroring the theories of Denis Artamonov.
There were plenty of ideas I couldn’t research or bring up in class. What can an animated timelapse provide over a fixed timeline? What do digital tools in public spaces, like museums, offer over those provided on personal devices? How might audio be included, either as data or a tool in itself?
Looking ahead (or perhaps behind), there is much left to do.
[1] At one point I needed to use google translate on an article. While the translation may not be perfect, the results sounded accurate.
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