Wednesday, July 31, 2013

The Eloquent Dead


The product of our excavation: a ton of pottery shards
that needed to be sorted by type.  The most common is
the 'fine orange' ceramics that were made on a pottery
wheel.  There were also many pieces of a 'rough' black or
gray type as well as a more refined, and somewhat less
common, 'burnished black' type of pottery.  Finally, some
of the pottery was hand-made rather than on the wheel;
these pieces were much rarer and were highly valued
by the Vacceans. 
Last Saturday was our second day in the lab out back of the Centro de Estudios Vacceas after wrapping up our last tomb excavation on Thursday (about which, see previous post).  We had earlier spent a few work shifts in the lab during inclement weather: we had a seminar during which we learned about the types of pottery the Vacceans manufactured and how to recognize them; we also spent some time cleaning pottery with brushes (including toothbrushes), water and (very) diluted hydrochloric acid.   The last few days of our four-week program, however are devoted to learning preservation and conservation methods for the artifacts we had spent three weeks retrieving from the necropolis of Las Ruedas.  The first lab day, Friday, for instance, we learned how to extract the materials from the pots, cups, bowls and bottles we had excavated.  This material mainly consisted of dirt, sand, and the ever-present rocks, but one had to be careful since often the pots contained iron and bronze artifacts, animal bones, and, as one would expect, human remains.  If something important popped up – such as a major concentration of bones or a pair of bronze scissors one of us found in bowl – one had to stop all work and call over Amador or Marisa (our lab instructors) to see if they needed to  photograph it in situ before continuing.  Once the contents of the pots were removed, fine-screened and preserved, several scrapings had to be made to collect samples from the clay interiors of the
    The Lab in the rear of the Centro is open to the air and
a comfortable place to work when it is hot.  It is also where
we dry our clothes, as attested to by the racks in the back.

pots in order to analyze so as to determine what substance(s) they had contained.  For instance, some vessels were interred with wine or beer inside; others contained offerings of food.  We also spent time in the lab devoted to the maddening process of poring through bags of pottery shards trying to find pieces that matched and, even better, that fit together.  It was like being presented with a giant pile of jigsaw puzzle pieces from about 100 different puzzles where most pieces were simply various shades of orange and where only a handful of puzzles had more than one piece in the pile.  More than an hour or so of such tortuous, eye-straining, mind-numbing searching and most of us were courting headaches.  The tedium was, however, relieved occasionally by sudden whoops of delight when two pieces matched.  These were then carefully glued back together, and put to one side in hopes of finding more pieces to build on.  In two marathon sessions, during which we debated whether or not our instructors had purposely given us bags of deliberately mismatched shards, we probably managed to put together a score of pairs, with a few triples and I believe one reassembly of four different pottery fragments.  So, when you next gaze upon a reconstructed piece of ceramic in some museum, say a little prayer of thanks to the toiling archaeology lab rats who painstakingly and lovingly, and oh-so gradually fitted those pieces together and glued them back into a recognizable shape.  I know I will from now on.

The funerary urn from tomb 261 as I began work on it.  I couldn't even see
the identifying card -- it was buried somewhere under that mass of dirt, sand,
ash, rocks and bones.  Note the bronze artifact near the bottom left corner of
the styrofoam tray; I had to clean around it so it could be photographed in situ.
Anyway, yesterday, after cleaning the first pot I had picked out of the line that morning – a beautiful, intact burnished black bowl with a simple geometrical design etched into it – I went back to find one large pot left.  If pot it could be called.  Clearly everybody else had avoided this jumbled mess of shards of various sizes surrounding one larger intact section
My workstation at the lab.  Clockwise from bottom left:
plastic box for bones; styrofoam box for pottery shards;
tray for metal artifacts; fine screener; urn from tomb 261 with
kabob skewer; other tools (dental pick, spoons, x-acto
knife, brush).
mostly held together by a densely packed matrix of dirt, sand, ash, bones and, I was to discover, a few goodies.  What fun!  Actually, it was fun, for me anyway.  I have been asked various times by our instructors which was my favorite task in archaeology, whether in the field or in the lab.  In both instances, though I truly love most of the work we do (with the exception of 'cleaning' the dirt on the floor of the excavation pit), I tend to delight in the small, detailed, meticulous jobs most others shy from.  For instance, I love the painstaking and nerve-wracking process of recovering delicate pots from the soil using tiny dental instruments and soft brushes.  The vessels and other items found in the tombs are sometimes on the verge of fragmentation and are often discovered jumbled together higgledy piggledy, overlapping, atop one another, and firmly embedded in the rocky earth after having spent 2,000 or more years a good meter or two packed under the surface.  Teasing them out the soil one by one reminded me of a combination of pick-up sticks, Jenga and that doctor game from my childhood where, if your tweezers attempt to extract the wrong bone from the tin body of the ‘patient,’ the thing buzzed madly.  Except, instead of a buzzing child’s game, if you screw this up your heart plummets to the bottom of your stomach as you hear the mortified gasps of your colleagues while a 2,300 year old funerary urn collapses and fragments in your hands.  In spite of this potential, I love the patient, deliberate detail work involved. 

So I actually relished the challenge of a good mixed-up, jumbled, fused and
Álvaro, the son of the Director of the
Centro and an archaeological student
at the University of Valladolid, was in
charge of photographing the artifacts
and, occasionally,documenting
items uncovered in situ.  Below: the
funerary urn from tomb 261.
fragmented mass of pottery and earth and whatever surprises lurk inside.  With some trepidation, but mostly with anticipation, I carried the heavy Styrofoam tray over to my work station and got down to the business of picking it apart with a metal dental tool, a long wooden kabob skewer, and a soft brush.  It soon became clear that this was, in fact, a funerary urn.  First, it was of the same burnished black ceramic common for the interment of human remains (the other type being a gray or black rough pottery; never the fine orange pottery most commonly found at the site).  The second sign, a dead give-away, was the presence of a large number of fragments of human bone.  So, duh, funerary urn.

Since the first time I positively identified a fragment of bone as human remains, I have been acutely conscious of what we are about here at Pintia.  Seen from one perspective, and quite a legitimate one, we are glorified grave robbers.  Digging the tombs of Las Ruedas, we are disturbing the long-slumbering ancient dead; we are violating the final resting place to which husbands, mothers, sons consigned the mortal remains of their cherished dead.  On the other hand, the Vacceans as
a people and as a civilization had all but disappeared from humanity’s collective memory until archaeologists started nosing about, uncovering their cities and towns and cemeteries.  Especially the cemeteries.  Ironically, it is the dead who speak most eloquently of the living.  Mere walls and floor plans and scattered artifacts in towns long buried and forgotten tell us some, but not all, of how a people lived; they tell us little of what they thought, how they felt, who they loved and what they valued most in life.  But a a grave and its contents are fraught with symbolism and are a window into the most deeply held ideas and beliefs, the most intimate human emotions – mourning, hope, grief, love, loss.  How we treat death is a mirror on how we value life, after all.  The manner in which a people remember those who have passed into the mysterious, unknowable beyond reveal what a people find beautiful, valuable, useful, and meaningful.  The Vacceans are quite eloquent in this regard.  And, ultimately I feel that they would want their stories told, would want their voices once again to be heard, would want their beliefs, their art, their daily lives to continue to have meaning  and not be forgotten forever.

Thus, as I coaxed each fragment of bone out of the matrix of dirt, sand, ash and rocks, I did not feel like one who is violating another; rather, I felt that I was helping to bring back to life at least a small part of the world that the Celtic Vacceans – and specifically this Vaccean in front of me – cherished so.  For quite some time I did not know or remember from which tomb this broken pile of pottery and admixture had come, since there was so much stuff spilling about that it covered the identifying card pinned to the Styrofoam.  At some point, however, I noted that what I had in front of me was none other than the mortal remains of the woman[1] whose tomb was the first I had excavated; the first tomb of the season, and the one that I had excavated on my own.  Of a sudden I felt a peculiar kinship with these bones in front of me; I felt protective, possessive and…tender.  This was family.  So I was even more careful and gentle as I scraped, poked, brushed, picked.  I came to see the clear plastic box into which I was transferring these fragmented remains of my ancestor – my great great great great grandmother/aunt/cousin – as another ‘final’ resting place.  A catafalque of sorts to carry her on to the next step of her journey; this time not to the afterlife, for she has long since been ensconced there.  Rather, she was headed for a new life – a rebirth in which her bones will speak to us if we listen closely enough.  These fragments and splinters and fragile, crumbling ghosts of white that I was so carefully coaxing out of the urn would help us understand her life and the lives of those she loved and lived among.
Bronze artifacts from the funerary urn.  Carlos Sanz, the Director, upon
examination determined that the two oblong pieces were pasadores, or
decorative pins to act as buttons fastening clothing around the body.  Not,
as I had suspected, a torque.  The fused mass of bronze to the right, he
determined was a brooch.  

Ben, my fellow volunteer and the only
other male in the group, found both
animal bones and metal artifacts in his
pot.  At bottom, the shape of a 2,000
year old pair of scissors is just dis-
tinguishable.  Below: the urn during
cleaning, before I called in help when
the main piece started to crumble around
the edges
Along the way, the urn also gave up a few new mysteries.  As I did the initial sorting of the mess, I immediately came across a piece of bronze – actually, two or three slightly curving joined lengths totaling about 5” long.It was more or less sitting on the top of the heap of stuff, waiting to be plucked up; however, I had to clean around the whole area in order to have it photographed in situ.  One end terminated in what looked to me like the female part of a ball joint.  Amador told me it was a brooch for fastening clothing; I suspected it was a torque, but what do I know?  Later on, another length of bronze about 3” long with rounded knobs on each end – looking like the male ends of ball joints.  Again, Amador opined that it was another brooch.  Two in the same urn?  I have my doubts yet, and wonder if I will ever discover what they decide it is once it is properly cleaned and curated.   The second piece looked to me like the central link of a torque of some sort.[2]  

There were other bits of bronze to be found, mostly unrecognizable.  The rest of the contents comprised bone fragments, ash, dirt, sand and rocks.  When it was all out, picked, sorted and sifted I was left with a bunch of pottery shards of varying sizes and shapes and a large section of a jug with a narrow rim and a handle.  All of this had to be brushed clean and then gently cleaned with water.  A few of the smaller fragments crumbled on contact with the water, they were so fragile, and when I finally started, gingerly, on the large piece, the edges started to crumble as well.  I immediately called for Amador and gratefully relinquished the urn to his experienced, professional care.  

I may one day see this piece restored in a museum or as an illustration in a book, perhaps.  I hope I will learn what secrets the bones reveal once analyzed, whether it was a woman or a man or a young person.  In any event, I don’t think I shall ever forget that morning spent with my – all of our – ancestor’s funerary urn.  It is as much a part of me now as any other formative event, something I shall take with me when I leave here and will carry with me for the rest of my life. 



Funerary urn from tomb 261 prior to cleaning




[1] My most Fearless of Readers will recall that my friend Carlos the Potter told me that he thought tomb 261 to be that of an aristocratic woman the very first day of its discovery.  He seems to have a nose for these things, because it was later confirmed by Carlos 'El Jefe' Sanz, the director.  When I asked what he thought, he examined the bones and pronounced the remains as belonging to a woman of approximately 30 years of age.  He discerned this in a matter of minutes from a few fragments of cranial bone, careful to caution me that this was tentative prior to formal analysis by experts at the University of Valladolid.  Still, it was pretty amazing to watch him.  So, we'll stick with the tomb belonging to a woman.  This is somewhat unusual in that she was buried with a wine goblet and ladle, items usually associated with male interments.  
[2] Carlos E.J. also examined the bronze pieces and decided that both the oblong artifacts were, in fact, clasps to hold clothes together.  He also pronounced as a brooch what looked like to me as an indefinable blob of bronze.  Like I said, what do I know?

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