Calling the elevator

A couple of times I have been caught off guard by a phone ringing somewhere near my office. Undefined noises are always unsettling, especially in buildings emptied for the night or the weekend.  It turned out to be the emergency telephone in the elevator. The question that remains is: who is on the other side of the line? Is someone actually calling this particular elevator? Is someone squatting in the basement and using the elevator phone to stay in touch with the outside world? Has somebody been calling the wrong number over and over again? Has the phone number of the elevator accidentally been assigned again to someone else and every time this person is being called the elevator phone rings as well? Maybe next time it rings I’ll pick up the phone. Or maybe not, to avoid having to explain the situation to someone working at a call centre using computer generated digits. 

Space currency

In case you were wondering how to pay for your drinks on the moon, here is the answer: Quasi Universal Intergalactic Denomination, or Quid. The Q says it all: we don’t know yet, if our alien fellow galactics will accept it as a valid currency. It brings back memories of a session I attended at the Bournemouth Theoretical Archaeology Group conference in 1997: on exo-archaeology. As an archaeologist, you have to be prepared for any future job opportunity, keeping in mind the more than average interest in archaeological matters of Star Trek’s Starfleet officers. No doubt the Quids will sooner than later turn into desirables and collector’s items. Archaeological parallels can be found in situations where the first coins introduced in areas in contact with mint based economies, often ended up in ritual contexts. Another archaeological parallel tells us that we should expect that we ourselves will end up as the main currency. But this is nothing new for those among us that already have been captured and enslaved by aliens.

Turning turtle

This could be your average archaeological map with the distribution of an archaeological phenomenon, except it isn’t. It’s a map of the present-day distribution of pond turtles in Italy. You might wonder how I got to this map? I’m not your average animal spotter, but those who know me better might (or will) describe me as an overzealous archaeologist, especially when it comes to Italy, Central Italy to be more precise. The key words are: Bronze Age, turtle remains, water, ritual, animal symbolism, question mark (not necessarily in this order). In association with: land/water, hibernation, seasonality, hard/soft substances, egg symbolism, regeneration, funerary symbolism, there might still be a hint of a brilliant idea. But: genital symbolism and cardinal points is definitely taking it one step too far.

The end of material culture

It seems that the rationale for this blog (see about) should be rephrased somewhat. In the latest issue of the journal Archaeological Dialogues material culture studies have more or less been declared dead. It contains a discussion article “Materials against materiality” involving some of the pioneering researchers (Christopher Tilley and Daniel Miller) in the interdisciplinary field of material culture studies in the discussion on a proclamation by Tim Ingold. There are a number of things that bother me and might be taken as a sign of a dying field. Incrowd debates are always suspicious, but probably this cannot be helped since material culture studies are firmly based at UCL. Nonetheless, there are enough other researchers working in this field who could have been involved in the discussion (it seems to be an editorial policy since the start of the journal to invite only big shots). Anyway, the result is a non-debate between leading scholars who are more concerned to promote their recent work than making any reference to work being done by other people. It seems that material culture studies are back where they started, with a small group of people talking amongst themselves (but hey, that’s science for you). Unless there is a hidden agenda … on the part of the editors of Archaeological Dialogues to get rid of material culture studies by being sloppy editors of this discussion article, or on the part of the editors of the Journal of Material Culture to tempt the editors of Archaeological Dialogues into publishing an empty shell. Because that is what the article is, a language game, not a serious attempt to engage with material, let alone archaeological material. Although an empty shell could still refer to the materiality of a shell, in this case it’s just made up of words, words, words.

Counting cigarettes

This is not an entry about me trying to quit smoking. That probably will never happen, at least not while I am writing my magnum opus. This entry is about how many cigarettes you can get into a package. You may not be aware of this, but not every package contains the same number (and I am not referring here to different sized packages of 10 15 20 or 25). In the Netherlands the latest tax raise on tabacco sneaked through, not by raising the price of a package (again), but by deducing the number of cigarettes it contains (from 20 to 19). Every time you open one, you see this gaping hole where one additional cigarette should have been. In a Mediterranean country such as Italy prices of cigarettes are generally much lower than in the northwest of Europe. To my surprise, the price of a package turned out to be almost the same in Italy as in the Netherlands. To my greater surprise, the Italians have made up for this price raise by increasing the number of cigarettes in a package (from 20 to 21), in this case not leaving a hole but cramming an additional cigarette in (which incidentally makes it more difficult to take out the first one of a new package). This seems a material metaphor of a distinction in national mentality: in the Netherlands a package of cigarettes is half empty, in Italy it is half full. But now it’s time to enjoy enjoy this richness.

Habemus Papam

Catholic Church (I was almost tempted to write: we) have had a new pope for a couple of years now, but I was reminded of his announcement, when I saw a picture of the newly elected French president, just now. Mr Sarkozy has his hands stretched forward, not really opening up, but still in appearance reaching out to the French people. That was different when Ratzinger walked onto the balcony of the Vatican in an euphoric state of mind. He clinched his hands, raised them above his head and acted like he had won a football or tennis match. I remembered it, because it was so inappropriate of the occasion (which is probably why there are hardly any pictures of it available), but it seems very telling of the man himself and the institution he represents.

Room with a view

With another scholarship granted by the Dutch Institute in Rome, I’m privileged to stay for one or two months at a prime location in Italy’s capital for the fifth time. Guest accommodation is on the top floor of the building, with nice views over the foreign institutes district at the margin of Villa Borghese. There are eleven rooms and I’m back in the room where I stayed the first time I got a scholarship. From that time, I remember vividly the reaction of the secretary: are you staying in that room? [while you are here for the first time], which made me feel even more privileged (and I still do). The room is big (it was twice as big as my student accommodation at the time), but the view is stunning as well. From one window you have a view of the Belgian institute, which is blocking the view of the Egyptian institute. From the other window you see the Romanian institute, with in the back the Japanese institute across the road and the very impressive British institute. A trip down memory lane of cultural colonialism. Not that I’m that impressed by the cultural capital of this city. I’m here to write half of my dissertation on what lies buried beneath her, and unveil what it once was: just another prehistoric farming community. At a prime location, that is.

Counting steps

Quite recently, scientists have found out that ants count their steps to find back their way home. I won’t comment here on the cruel scientific method of leg-cutting, for that concern find yourself an animal rights website. This animal fact came back to me, when I was enjoying a (plastic) cup of coffee outside just now and became intrigued by the procession of ants that tried to walk through where I was sitting and forced me to stand up again. As you know, when you have to count things yourself, even the minor distraction can lead you off track. What about the ants that bump into each other, will they be distracted from their step-counting and getting back home again? Or does (evolutionary) safety in numbers take over here? Scientists count your ways back to the lab!

Connecting the dots

Modern technology has lifted wildlife conservation to a new level. A range of species have been tagged with transmitters by which they can be tracked. Taking a closer look at the turtle in this picture (source: BBC), it shows that it has been turned into a hybrid creature, a cyborg, by attaching the transmitter on top of its shield, thus bridging (or denying) the nature-culture divide. Walruses are another species that in a recent project can be tracked for a couple of months (as long as the transmitters stick into their skins) following the dots on a map. In this respect, there is not much of a difference between wildlife conservation and hunting in terms of material culture (a crossbow, a CO2-powered gun, and a harpoon) or behaviour (silent approaches, tracking). It’s not a coincidence that many wildlife conservation projects depend on training native hunters, in the hope that they will refrain from hunting endangered species. If you want to be pessimistic, this could mean that hunting will be lifted to a new level as well.

Used books

As a librarian of a small university department library I have spent countless hours erasing pencil marks from books. There’s always a sense of eradicating other people’s efforts, when I do this. I have to say that only once I have been tempted to mark the process of reading one of my own books, but I always find comfort reading other books used in this way. Part of this comfort lies in the fact that the book has been read already and that your reading it adds to its lifecourse. At the other extreme lies the excitement of being the first to open uncut books (an activity which I’ve also spent countless hours on in my job as a librarian). Another part of the comfort in reading this category of used books is that the underlining of sentences helps you to work your way through it, especially if its contents challenge your intellectual capacity. If there’s a coincidence in emphasis between earlier readers’ (re)marks and your own thoughts, there’s a sense of comprehension that goes beyond simple understanding of the author: I’m not alone, so there must be more to it. On the other hand, if parts that you would have emphasized are not marked, there is a sense of discovery: am I the first to recognise this as a significant part?, which creates a sense of privilege in understanding the author. This experience becomes even more intense, if you know the person who did the underlining, and sometimes even made remarks in the margin. I’ve been lucky enough to read and also get a lot of books as a gift from my (under)graduate supervisor, who doesn’t have the same reservations about marking books as I have. When I’m reading one of his books, with critical remarks in his handwriting, there’s always this enhanced sense of connection. Save one book, my master’s dissertation with his comments, which I haven’t touched ever since I got it. There should only be so much sense of connection.