In 1980, David Dillon launched his career as an architectural critic with a provocative article that asked “Why Is Dallas Architecture So Bad?” Over the next quarter century, he offered readers of the Dallas Morning News a vision of how good architecture and planning could improve quality of life, combatting the negative effects of urban sprawl, civic fragmentation, and rapacious real estate development typical in Texas cities. The Open-Ended City gathers more than sixty key articles that helped establish Dillon’s national reputation as a witty and acerbic critic, showing readers why architecture matters and how it can enrich their lives. Kathryn E. Holliday discusses how Dillon connected culture, commerce, history, and public life in ways that few columnists and reporters ever get the opportunity to do. The articles she includes touch on major themes that animated Dillon’s writing: downtown redevelopment, suburban sprawl, arts and culture, historic preservation, and the necessity of aesthetic quality in architecture as a baseline for thriving communities. While the specifics of these articles will resonate with those who care about Dallas, Fort Worth, and other Texas cities, they are also deeply relevant to all architects, urbanists, and citizens who engage in the public life and planning of cities. As a collection, The Open-Ended City persuasively demonstrates how a discerning critic helped to shape a landmark city by shaping the conversation about its architecture.

"When residents and tourists visit plantation sites, whose stories are told? All too often the lives of slaveowners are centered, obscuring the lives of enslaved people and making it impossible for their descendants to process the meanings of these sites. Behind the Big House gives readers a candid, behind the scenes look at what it really takes to interpret the difficult history of slavery in the U.S. South. The book explores Jodi Skipper's eight-year collaboration with the Behind the Big House program, a community-based model used at local historic sites around the country to address slavery in the collective narrative of U.S. history and culture. Part memoir and part ethnography, the book interweaves Skipper's experiences as a Black woman and a southerner to imagine more sustainable and healthy spaces for interracial collaborations around historic preservation and slavery tourism in the U.S. South. Skipper considers the growing need among professional and lay communities to address slavery and its impacts through interpretations of local historic sites. In laying out her experiences through an autoethnographic approach, Skipper seeks to help other activist scholars of color negotiate the nuances of place, the academic public sphere, and its ambiguous systems of reward, recognition, and evaluation. By directly speaking to a failed integration of teaching, research, and service as a crisis in academia, she strives not to give others answers, but to model another way of being"--

Millions of visitors have appreciated Williamsburg not only for its authentic taste of life in colonial Virginia but also for the incredible design resource of its meticulously restored and appointed homes and gardens. Ever since the 1930s, Williamsburg fans have been able to decorate their homes with reproductions of furnishings, fabrics, and accessories, but until now there has never been a decorating book that shows how to put the look together. In chapters that highlight living rooms and gathering places; the bedchamber; dining rooms, kitchens, and pantries; and home and garden, Williamsburg demonstrates its ability to inspire contemporary lifestyles. Special sections on such topics as lighting, color, mantels, silver, and bed hangings focus on details; and photographs of rooms especially decorated for the book by decorating expert Tricia Foley, using Colonial Williamsburg reproductions, give practical ideas for mixing old, new, and reproductions in a harmonious scheme.Produced in conjunction with The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, the book is rich with the latest discoveries about 18th-century taste -- bold new colors, rest

A collection of essays that examine how the history of slavery and race in the United States has been interpreted and inserted at public historic sites For decades racism and social inequity have stayed at the center of the national conversation in the United States, sustaining the debate around public historic places and monuments and what they represent. These conversations are a reminder of the crucial role that public history professionals play in engaging public audiences on subjects of race and slavery. This "difficult history" has often remained un- or underexplored in our public discourse, hidden from view by the tourism industry, or even by public history professionals themselves, as they created historic sites, museums, and public squares based on white-centric interpretations of history and heritage. Challenging History, through a collection of essays by a diverse group of scholars and practitioners, examines how difficult histories, specifically those of slavery and race in the United States, are being interpreted and inserted at public history sites and in public history work. Several essays explore the successes and challenges of recent projects, while others discuss gaps that public historians can fill at sites where Black history took place but is absent in the interpretation. Through case studies, the contributors reveal the entrenched false narratives that public history workers are countering in established public history spaces and the work they are conducting to reorient our collective understanding of the past. History practitioners help the public better understand the world. Their choices help to shape ideas about heritage and historical remembrances and can reform, even transform, worldviews through more inclusive and ethically narrated histories. Challenging History invites public historians to consider the ethical implications of the narratives they choose to share and makes the case that an inclusive, honest, and complete portrayal of the past has the potential to reshape collective memory and ideas about the meaning of American history and citizenship.

Miss Lucy went to the North Carolina mountains in 1920 as an apprentice teacher, but she soon discovered that the kind of teaching that she wanted to do was not in the fields in which she was trained. What interested her most was already there among the mountain people--the ancient arts of hand-weaving and vegetable dyeing. Her campaign to revive interest in these native crafts has resulted in the internationally respected Penland School of Handicrafts. Originally published in 1971. A UNC Press Enduring Edition -- UNC Press Enduring Editions use the latest in digital technology to make available again books from our distinguished backlist that were previously out of print. These editions are published unaltered from the original, and are presented in affordable paperback formats, bringing readers both historical and cultural value.