Through the Archaeologist's Eye

Welcome to this walkthrough of the exhibition Through the Archaeologists Eye. This exhibition was featured as part of the European Association of Archaeologists or EAA's 2025 online annual meeting. However, as it was only accessible during the time when the AM was in session, we wanted to make a more permanent record of the lovely images and texts that were featured there. But before we get started, I will give the word to my co-organizers so that they can introduce themselves. Greetings. I'm Matt Walsh. I'm um a senior researcher in Native American studies here at the National Museum of Denmark and um the one of the co-editors of the EAA's long-standing newsletter, the European Archaeologist, along with Samantha Ryder. And um I'd like to welcome you all to the through the archaeologist's eyes, art, science, and the beauty of the past today. Hi, my name is Christina Penisich and I'm from the Biosense Institute of the University of Novisad and I would like to welcome you to a video walkthrough of the exhibition in the archaeologist's eye. My name is Sam Ryder. I'm also from the National Museum of Denmark and together with Matt, I am also editor of TE the European Archaeologist. What you're about to see are a selection of images, editor's picks really, from Te's past few years of photojournalism competitions. Each year has a different theme. So when the three of us, Matt, Christina, and I were putting together the exhibition, we grouped these under a common theme, namely through the archaeologists I, art, science, and the beauty of the past today. But what does that mean? Let me tell you a bit more about our thinking. Discovery, ancient objects, exotic locations, desolate landscapes, long hours in the field, dusty tomes, and high techch gadgets. These are the lifeblood of archaeology. These words peak our imagination and awaken our wanderlust, especially when compared with the archaeology as shown to us by Hollywood. But who are they really? These scholars who dedicate their lives to studying the past. Surely they must be peculiar to see, as Blake put it, a world in a grain of sand and a heaven in a wild flower. Hold infinity in the palm of a hand and eternity in an hour. This photo exhibition focuses not necessarily on the archaeologists themselves, but what it is that they find most transcendent, inspiring, and exciting about their profession. Through their images and text, we see the grace and beauty as perceived through the eye of the archaeologist. Welcome. Moment in time by Roberto Archierro. Archiierro writes, "The Carakum desert, Murkab region, occupies almost 70% of Turk Menistan and is considered one of the most inhospitable places in Central Asia and probably on Earth. The wildlife is limited, but it includes poisonous spiders and snakes, which are sometimes easy to find. Water is scanty and caravans that lost their way in the 19th century were considered doomed. The Turkmen Italian team has been working there since 1989 investigating the BMAC culture. However, the picture does not record an excavation or scientific activity, but rather a mundane moment when we had to stop due to a mechanical problem. When this happens in the desert, there is no breakdown van you can call. Hardly any shade. The only thing you can do is wait until someone comes to rescue you, hopefully in a few hours. This is a moment to sit down, have a chat, and drink tea. All scientific activity is suspended. In this moment of limbo, you have time to observe the small things that also make the life of an archaeologist. following a beetle or scorpion across the sand, watching the alert eye of an eagle and hoping that they will find you soon. Not in Kansas anymore by Megan Crutcher. Crutcher writes, "Studying the past sometimes involves embracing the quirks, or should we say clux of the present." This photo of archaeologist Prince Condor starting up his motorbike was taken during an archaeological survey in a remote town in Sino County, Liberia, West Africa. Community stakeholders gifted our team a chicken to bring back to our home base in the county's urban center of Greenville. We were certainly tired after a three-hour motorbike ride, but the chicken was probably even more exhausted. While archaeologists rely heavily on scientific study, there is great beauty in situations that arise while in the field. Building relationships in community archaeology can lead to unexpected but rewarding connections. My favorite part of this image is the juxtaposition of the chicken, the motorbike, and condor's shirt that says, "Our archaeology, our coast, our heritage." This slogan is the tagline for our project in Sino County, Liberia. And it's a way to get people in the community involved in the study and preservation of their own heritages. Archaeology is a science, an art, and a social science. But it is also inherently communal. What we study and preserve and why we study and preserve it is based on the values and principles of both descent communities and communities of scholars and practitioners. The more the interests of these two communities align, the better impact our art, science and social science will have. Or at least that is how I see it. In Liberia, archaeology is slowly becoming part of the conversation about the Liberian past. New projects rely heavily on community involvement and memory to create a sustainable future for Liberian archaeology. This photo has been shared with permission from Condor. We were unable to reach the chicken for comment. Winter Solstice at the Punta delhidalgo Rupestrian Sea site, Tenneref, Canary Islands, 21st of December, 2022 by A. Yo Fujia Dear Roa. Fujia de la Roza writes, "This archaeological site is located far from the inhabited areas of the island of Tenneref, far from the residential coast, the hotels, and the greater tourist infrastructure and out of the comfort zone. This rocky coastal site is heavily affected by the sea currents and large waves. It is a difficult place to access, especially in winter when the force of the Atlantic Ocean hits the coasts the hardest. The site is a ceremonial area that dates back to the indigenous Canarian period. A discerning eye will find the two circular holes, capules, dug into the rock in the lower margin of the image. These were used to leave offerings to the gods. The indigenous Canary Islanders deposited offerings here which were carried away by the sea when the tide came in and in gratitude the sea was then generous with them offering abundant fish and shellfish. These rights were held to coincide with the arrival of winter and the site has clear value as a solar or solstitial marker. The rock capules are located in a place from where this phenomenon can be clearly seen and not at any other point on the coast. In the photo, the sun majek for the indigenous people can be seen ascending just behind the mountain and appearing at its peak. This phenomenon only occurs during the winter solstice. It is then when the capules receive the first rays of dawn light projected from the apex of the mountain. This was a time when according to oral tradition the ancestors the so-called invisible ones returned with their people to quicken the fields and bring abundance. [snorts] After the solstice, the orbital motion of the sun causes it to move progressively to the right of the mountain until the cycle is repeated the following winter. Despite the clouds, the heavy swell, and the remote location of this place, indigenous memory is still alive at this end of the island of Tenneref, where during each winter solstice, the mountain turns into a lighthouse that projects its light on the ceremonial site. In witnessing a moment like this, the archaeological eye can almost see across time. This image was also the cover of the book This image is entitled I'll pop in tomorrow. I might have a pie for you by Daniel Evans. Evans writes, "A lot of what we see as archaeologists, but which is not often acknowledged or made visible is our involvement in the living communities in the areas in which we work." This image was taken in 2021 at Fiddler's Ferry Power Station in Warrington, UK. The power station had closed its doors after half a century of energy production, and Arcadus' cultural heritage team was present during the station's final days to support the decommissioning process and the switch over to the future land use of the power station through a study of the station's built form. Observations on site identified the hardship of the environment in which the station operated, including the heat of the boiler room, the choking dust of the coal stockyard, and the deafening noise of the turbines. All of these features built a community that was both close and strong, as illustrated by the title of a 2019 commemorative book, It's Been Like a Family. But the community was built as much through personal relations as it was by the work environment. When built, the power station had an anticipated lifespan of 25 years. The skill of the maintenance crew doubled that figure. Testimonies on site suggest that the dormant equipment was so wellkept, it could have carried on for a further 50 years. The image captures a moment in time between a member of the Arcadus Heritage site team left and a member of the power station surviving skeleton crew right deep in conversation. The image was captured 8 months after the closure of the power station. The northern cluster of cooling towers is visible in the background of the photo. The image is a simple depiction of an innocent conversation taking an interest in the thoughts and experiences of one person which influence the daily life of one place. But the friendship, hardship and dedication to the industry and community is farreaching. People speak for places. Places speak of the people. The eyes of the archaeologists see both. They can also speak for them. This image is entitled Art Archaeology by Emily Ziggler Yimova. Yphimova writes, "This photo was created as part of an art archaeology internship where we explored the intersection between art and archaeology. We were tasked with creating art in conversation with deacessioned artifacts from 1800's Rosenale, New York, USA. a so-called company town, towns created by big business for the purpose of housing workers and their families at the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th century. One of the pieces I received was a potsh shirt shown in the photo. I was largely inspired by Pelina, who uses her family's own artifacts and material culture to create art that blends her heritage with contemporary forms and methods. I also drew inspiration from Ukrainian veno and the use of dress and adornment generally to communicate identities. The use of flower potshur crown was a culmination of the aforementioned inspirations along with the idea of ruins and returning to the earth. Thinking of artifacts makes one think of how nature tends to take over the remnants of human activity if left alone. Artifacts can be recovered, damaged, or even disappear entirely from the archaeological record due to biotubation and the particularities of site formation processes. Above ground structures might be covered in vegetation or be eroded. With this in mind, I framed the potsh in flowers native to New York and New England to convey the idea of being taken by the earth and to root it in a sense of identity and place. Finally, the blue flower painted on my cheek and the cracks painted on my face were done to recreate the essence of the pot. Though it is unknown whether the original pot to which the shur belongs had a blue flower painted on it, the motif and style of it are consistent with other salt glazed stoneware pottery from New York in the 1800s. The art archaeology approach which sits at the nexus of archaeology and art can be used by archaeologists as a different method for engaging with artifacts and their biographies in new ways. I believe that this piece highlights the artistic side of archaeology and how such post-processual approaches can bring back humanity and emotion to archaeology and the people of the past. In theory, there are many archometric ways in which this potsh shirt could have been analyzed to gain information on provenence, manufacturing technique, or perhaps what was even stored inside. Such data is important to understanding the past. But it can sometimes be easy to forget the real people and their emotions, dreams, stories, and the relations to this pot behind numbers and charts. The convergence of art and archaeology can help evoke these human object connections, acknowledging the individuals who created, used, and eventually left behind these objects as only proxies for their complex lives. Rainbows in reactors by Patricia Gravald. Grunavald writes, "Changing the reactors of our thermoscientific elemental analyzers is one of my favorite tasks for the same reason that I love overcast days with that hint of sunshine. Rainbows. We all know that there is a scientific explanation for the colors that are on display, but it never ceases to amaze me. We do stable carbon, nitrogen and sulfur isotope analyses on a variety of organic samples here in the stable light isotope laboratory in the department of archaeology at the University of Cape Town. The laboratory was founded in the mid 1970s by the then chair of archaeology Nicolas Vandervver and several sample preparation and analytical techniques were refined by him and his students. Anyone who works with stable isotopes of carbon and nitrogen as proxies for paleo diet will recognize the surnames Vanderva, Lee Thorp and Celely from seinal publications in the field. At that time, samples were prepared offline as continuous flow isotope ratio mass spectrometers were still being developed. Approximately eight samples could be analyzed in a day. Only a fraction of the approximately 60 to 100 samples that we can analyze per day using the reactors reducers in the image. So what's going on in these tubes? The four reactors on the left are from our newest EA IMS elemental analyzer connected to the isotope ratio mass spectrometer. This EA is only set up with a single reactor. So the reaction and reduction of the gas from the sample takes place in the same column. The reaction takes place in the top layers of chemicals. When only delta 13C and delta 15N results are required, green colored chromium oxide and gray colored silvered cabbaltus oxide are used to facilitate the combustion of samples and remove sulfur from the gas. To get delta 34s results, we want to increase the available oxygen in the reactor and keep the sulfur so it can combine with the oxygen. Yellow colored tungsten oxide is used to achieve this. The quartz wool between layers removes particulates and the copper granules or electrolytic copper reduces the gas. In the two column setup, the reactor not shown here and the reduction tube, the two columns full of copper on the right in the image are separate and kept at different temperatures. The reaction of impurities in the sample gas with the chemicals and the oxidation of the copper to transform it to copper oxide causes the myriad colors seen. It just goes to show you science is beautiful in more ways than one. Looking for monument number five by Denise Lemur a Silva who writes Sarah de Abu Berrera is not only an iconic mountain ridge in the north of Portugal but it also has a mythic status for megalith researchers. The Sarah de Abu Berrera was first surveyed in 1979, a mere 5 years after the coup d'etatar that ended Portuguese dictatorship and that investigation remains amongst the most crucial archaeological interventions to happen in Portugal to this day. Not only did it change the way tumula archaeology was done, but it also profoundly altered the study oferary landscapes. Three decades have passed since the last archaeological research was conducted here in the '9s. The landscape has changed abruptly. Villages have succumbed to memory. The winds bring only silence where one once could hear hundreds of bell clappers and the barking of sheep dogs. The wickering of horses, the braaying of donkeys, and the creek of wagons have given way to the motorized drone of motorbikes and cars. Jutting sharply against the sky are the stark outlines of hundreds of wind farms. I will never know the quiet mountain of the past, but my professor Domingos Cruz did. Whilst out on fieldwork, I quickly snapped this picture of him with my cell phone. Both of us were covered in mud, soaking wet from the heavy mountain rains and sporting gore spitten legs. It was the beginning of September, and summer seemed to be announcing its departure. But winters no longer bring frost, and natural springs give less water than they used to. Ashes from wildfires always cover some part of the mountain every year, leaving an open wound amongst the green. An unfamiliar green of plants and trees that were not supposed to be there. This survey was done as part of my PhD work in Sarah de Abu Berrera. My professor was among the first teams of archaeologists who conducted the first surveys, the first dicks, the first publications. In September 2022, we spent two days on the terrain, a quick visit. In the end, we located almost all of our target sites. For him, it must have felt like retracing old footsteps. Though nearly 30 years have passed since those early surveys, and the landscape has changed so abruptly, so too have the methods we use, and the ways we think about space, time, and each other. I still do not know what it truly means to be an archaeologist. Is it about doing seemingly irrational things like getting lost on a mountain with clouds gathering at the horizon, rain threatening, yet refusing to turn back, stubbornly racing the clock in search of a weathered monument? What I do know is that my work is one more contribution to decades of research. I hope others will continue this path as I followed those before me. The picture, although a little forboding, a little lonely, is meant to capture that feeling. Though unforgiven, time speaks differently to an archaeologist. We return to places shaped by decades of research. Each visit not just a step forward, but a quiet echo of those who came before. We observe layers of change, continuity, and meaning. And in so doing, we contribute to a lineage of knowledge that spans generations and find ourselves falling in love with a place that means to us just as much as it meant to those who came before. Photographing with purpose by Daniel Lindol. Lindol writes, "This picture consists of hundreds of images. Each object was photographed individually. Each image was taken at different times in different museums and in different countries. Yet together they form a single coherent image of the past unified by purpose and time period rather than the limits of specific collections. The idea is thus, if artifacts are photographed in the same manner, they can be presented as one complete image of the past, thereby making the result not only publicly entertaining, but also scientifically useful. The concept was first drafted 10 years ago at a student excavation where we tried to find guidelines on an official method to make these kinds of photos. As we could not find one, we invented our own. The goal that images taken today could be placed next to images taken tomorrow and still yield a similar look. Over the years, we refined this method on new collections. The results were consistent and the question came naturally. What if this approach wasn't used in just one museum, but in all of them? The image you see here is an attempt to answer that question. It represents a single vision from an archaeologist's eye and includes artifacts from three museums across two countries taken over the span of seven years all unified by a single photographic method. Participating museums Lunt University Historical Museum Sweden, Kalmar County Museum, Sweden, Mosgard Museum, Denmark. This untitled image is by Tamar Michelik. Michel writes, "Alongside shovels, tels, and brushes, our eyes are among the most important tools through which we explore artifacts. That's why for me, archaeology is primarily a form of art. The art of looking at artifacts in a specific way. This perspective drives my interest in understanding how archaeologists and non-archchaeologists visually engage with archaeological remains. This phenomenon is behind the photograph presented here. This photograph taken during my research at the medieval monastery in old Dongola archaeological site, Sudan, captures Muhammad, a local resident wearing an eye tracker. These glasses, equipped with cameras and connected to a computer on his belt, recorded his gaze patterns as he viewed Nubian paintings in the excavated monastery. One such painting is an 11th century AD representation of Michael the Archangel, which looks at us from over Muhammad's shoulders. Thanks to Muhammad and the participation of other volunteers, my eyes were opened to how differently Sudin and Western visitors process the paintings. This was an important step in considering educational programs tailored to the cultural ways of engaging with paintings. Archaeology as the art of looking is an intriguing phenomenon. I strongly believe that methods like eyetracking can reveal more about what it means to be an archaeologist and make it possible for the views of archaeologists and non-archchaeologists to meet and create space for dialogue. Seeing the environment in a single seed by Martr Modello. Modelo writes, "The image shows a burnt acorn seed which was documented during the 2022 fieldwork in an anthropized pete unit 6 from the pile dwelling at the lakes of San Gio and Santa Maria in Ravine Lago and Tazo, Italy. The paleocarpological study carried out by Dr. Maria Laticia of Bologna University mainly aimed to reconstruct the dynamics of vegetation and their relationships with environmental resource management practices through the analysis of seeds and fruits. After being floated and sd, the archaeological sediment is observed with a microscope to recover any macro remains that may be present within it. This method allows us to reconstruct diet, subsistence economy, plant uses, food, textile, dying, medicinal, etc., and the environment around the site. Acorns, the fruit of oak trees are among the first vegetables that people used for their diet, especially after the end of the glacial periods and the massive expansion of the oak forest. Generally, acorns were roasted to eliminate their bitter taste and were then often ground into flour. The image was obtained using a stereo microscope Leica EZ4 HD with an 8 times magnification necessary to analyze surface details. Dr. Lorenzo testy contributed to the acquisition which was then modified with photo editing software by the designer Lorenzo Ftorell to emphasize some endemic traits. The archaeological eye sees further when it looks through an interdicciplinary lens. In this way we achieve professional results in a scientific technological world that constantly presents us with increasingly complex challenges. This untitled image is by Matilda Zebreck. Zebreck writes, "This image shows a local from the town of Iglick, Nunivoot, in northern Fox Basin, harvesting boline from the leftovers of that year's bow whale hunt." The photo was taken in August 2022 when I traveled up to Iglick to conduct some archaeological field work, specifically sewing workshops with some local seamstresses. My research investigated the usewear traces on bone and ivory needles from the paleoinuit doset cultures. And part of my project involved collaborative experimental archaeology workshops with Inuit seamstresses in order to discuss the use of these needles in light of their experience and traditional knowledge. Although seamstresses in the present day now use metal sewing needles, the use of traditional materials such as caribou and seal skin is still part of everyday life up in Iglick as hunting plays a very dominant role in community life. Hunting is the only way for Inuit to procure cheap and fresh meat, but is also an important aspect of maintaining their indigenous traditions and connecting to their heritage. Part of this involves the annual hunt of a bow whale. These hunts are more heavily regulated than the hunting of more common animals such as seal and caribou. With a restricted time window and limited hunting tokens, it is considered a great honor to be chosen as part of the hunting party. And once a whale is caught, the whole community comes to celebrate and share the meat and blubber. Part of being an archaeologist is seeing and experiencing things that bring us out of our comfort zone. As someone with a background in European archaeological fieldwork, working in the Arctic archipelago was definitely something that took me out of mine. However, being able to experience for myself life in a modern Inuit community helped me to understand the context of these whale hunts and to see and realize that it is not comparable in any way with what Europeans might think of when we hear the term. Nevertheless, trying to explain this context to my European colleagues back at home was extremely difficult because they could not remove their own biased ignorance and or consequently mainly horrified to hear that whale hunts still take place without understanding the cultural context. Therefore, this image of a proud Inuit man harvesting the spoils of a recent hunt with the first sunset after the summer months reflecting off ice in the background to me represents that barrier of understanding between indigenous communities and non-indigenous researchers.