Landscape in Mind: Dialogue on Space between Anthropology and Archaeology 9781407305394, 9781407335285

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BAR S2003 2009

Landscape in Mind: Dialogue on Space between Anthropology and Archaeology

DIMITRIADIS (Ed)

Edited by

George Dimitriadis

LANDSCAPE IN MIND

BAR International Series 2003 2009 B A R

Landscape in Mind: Dialogue on Space between Anthropology and Archaeology Edited by

George Dimitriadis

BAR International Series 2003 2009

ISBN 9781407305394 paperback ISBN 9781407335285 e-format DOI https://doi.org/10.30861/9781407305394 A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

BAR

PUBLISHING

Στις στέπες του Gao, που η ανθρώπινη μορφή βυθίζεται στην απεραντωσύνη της ερήμου, εκεί θα πάω κι’εγώ να νιώσω την τραχιά χλιδή του ανέμου, την ελαφρόπετρα που μου ματώνει τις φτέρνες ....

Lecce, 28.01.1989 In the plateaus of Gao, where the human form sinks into the unbounded desert, there I will go to feel the rough luxury of the wind, the pumice that bleeds my heels ....

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Contents INTRODUCTION Landscape in Mind. Dialogue on Space between Anthropology and Archaeology.............................................................................. 1 George Dimitriadis CHAPTER I: THEORY-PHILOSOPHY New and Old Paradigms: the Question of Space ......................................................................................................................................... 5 Livio Dobrez The Emergent Novelty of Landscape in Poet Orators’ Perspectives: Landscape Archaeology and Sustaining Plurality of Future Aspirations ......................................................................................................................................................................... 9 Stephanie Koerner From the ‘Natural’ Forest to the ‘Forest’ of Signs. The Production of Rock-art and the Management of Space in EBA Societies ................................................................................................................................................................................. 33 George Dimitriadis CHAPTER II: ANTHROPOLOGY Entre anthropologie, histoire et préhistoire ................................................................................................................................................ 39 Antonio Guerci Mind Mapping among Mbowamb and around Motten - On the Significance of Landmarks in Interior New Guinea and Ancient Central Europe ................................................................................................................................. 43 Henry Doselda West Kennet Avenue: Avenue of Gender/Avenue of Power ................................................................................................................. 49 Sims Lionel Terra Sapiens: How Landscape Invented Man........................................................................................................................................... 59 Meschiari Matteo CHAPTER III: CULTURE ASTRONOMY The Connection Between the Terrestrial and Celestial Landscape during the Bronze Age in the Carpathian Basin: Orientation of houses..................................................................................................................................................... 67 Emilia Pasztor Political and Religious Expression in Romanesque Sacral Architecture in Slovenia.......................................................................... 73 Saša Čaval Sacred territories: astronomy, ritual and the creation of landscape at the passage grave sites of Neolithic Ireland .................... 83 Kate Prendergrast What was the nature of the relationship between man and natural space at the neolithic stone circles at Avebury in Southern England?....................................................................................................................................................................... 89 Harry Meaden

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CHAPTER IV: ARCHAEOLOGY Gesture, Image, Architecture: how fire and rock art may have behaved in the passage graves of Anglesey, North Wales ....................................................................................................................................................................................................... 93 George Nash Is there a ‘natural’ space? ............................................................................................................................................................................... 105 Luiz Oosterbeek To the world I belong: Places and monumental architecture at the Portuguese Alto Douro....................................................... 111 Gonçalo Velho Val Bormida (Ligurie, Italie): espace antropologique dans la Prehistoire entre exploitation des ressources locals et domain de montagne .................................................................................................................................................. 117 Davide Delfino Des Espaces Bons pour l’Exclusion ............................................................................................................................................................ 121 Hameau Philippe POSTERS Room for rivalry and religion – ritualized rock art reflections of the Bronze Age landscape of Tanum in Bohuslän............. 125 Ulf Bertilsson The cultural nature of natural places in the Alps .................................................................................................................................... 125 Franco Nicolis FINAL COMMENTS Some Concluding Observations on Emergent Novelty and Promising New Relations between Archaeology, Anthropology nd Philosophy ............................................................................................................................................. 127 Stephanie Koerner

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List of Contributors Ulf Bertilsson: National Heritage Board of Antiquities, Sweden & CAR-ICOMOS President Saša Čaval: Institute of Anthropological and Spatial Studies & Scientific Research Centre of the Slovenian Academy of Sciences and Arts Davide Delfino: PhD Candidate, Universitade de Tras o Montes e Alto Douro George Dimitriadis: DiSA-University of Genoa, Italy, “Gesture, Technology and Experiment”-UISPP/IUSPP Commission Livio Dobrez: Department of English, Faculty of Arts, National Univesrity Australia, Australia Henry Doselda: German Museum of Agriculture & Hohenheim University, Stuttgart Antonio Guerci: Chaire d’Anthropologie, Département de Sciences Anthropologiques and Conservateur du Musée d’Ethnomédecine ‘A. Scarpa’, Université de Gênes, Italie Philippe Hameau: LAMIC (Laboratoire d'Anthropologie Mémoire, Identité et Cognition Sociale), Université de Nice-Sophia Antipolis Stephanie Koerner, University of Manchester Harry Meaden: Department of Continuing Education, Archaeology, and Kellogg College, Oxford University Matteo Meschiari: Department of Anthropology, University of Palermo, Italy George Nash: Department of Archaeology and Anthropology, University of Bristol, England Franco Nicolis: Soprintendenza Archeologica Trento, Italy Luiz Oosterbeek: Instituto Politécnico de Tomar. Quaternary and Prehistory group of the Geosciences Centre & General Secretariat UISPP/IUSPP Emilia Pasztor: Matrica Museum, Százhalombatta, Hungary Kate Prendergrast: University of Oxford Lionel Sims: University of East London, Britain Gonçalo Velho: Instituto Politécnico de Tomar

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Introduction George Dimitriadis

Fossils, some 195,000 years old, recently unearthed in the Omo Kibish site (Ethiopia), show remarkable physical similarities between Homo sapiens and ourselves. The material culture evidence from the site of Katanda (Democratic Republic of Congo) dates to 80.000 B.P. and is said to document the first Homo sapiens. What are the implications for the concerns with ‘awakening’ ‘human origins’? What does the growing evidence of the complexity of techniques, artifacts, the symbolic forms of rock art suggest about patterns of change in the life ways of these diverse ‘hominins’ (to borrow Clive Gamble’s 2007, 2008 term)? What does this evidence indicate in relation to the evolution of techniques of stone tool production and the dynamics of other life forms, experimental ‘play’ with ‘materiality’ in a ‘conscious way’ (Beck 1986:238)? And when does this ‘play’ with materiality start!

experience of material culture with experience of the body, they create the world human beings occupy together as social beings. Hence, the considerable evidence for the diversity of roles of material culture amongst the means whereby humans transform and restructure at one and the same time the heterogeneity of the landscapes they inhabit and their social relations to one another. Landscape has long been both an area of mutual anthropological and archaeological interest and divergence (for instance Spriggs ed. 1977) as well as the focus of debates over what separated the ‘New Archaeology’ from its ‘culture historian’ predecessors, and the relative merits of the most influentially opposed ‘processual and postprocessual’ paradigms for archaeological methods and theory. Throughout, even in the most specialised technical discussions, the relative merits of principles drawn from opposing philosophical traditions have been recurrently at issue (for instance, Compte’ positivism, and the cases of ‘processualism’ and ‘post-processualism,’ a principle drawn from 20th-century analytic, continental and sociological traditions). (Layton and Ucko eds. 1999; Koerner 2007). Thus, philosophical options are likely to play roles in major differences amongst definitions, including conceptions of landscape as:

Writing on the ‘hidden landscapes of the body,’ Gamble highlights the ‘rhetorical devices that infuse material with bodily experience thereby giving legs to the immanent in the form of metaphors.’ From a psychological viewpoint, which stresses the importance of metaphors to express what goes on inside us in order analyze the hidden inner sense that makes the whole system of human relations run, evidence for the emergence of human interiority and identity might be provided by such famous figurines as the ‘Man-Lion’ from the Upper Paleolithic Hohlenstein-Stedel Grotto site near Asselfingen, Germany. In the discovering of themselves humans might be said to have come to engage with the world at once technologically and metaphorically. For Martin Heidegger (1953) humans are technological beings (cf. Heidegger 1953), and ‘culture-tech’ osmosis might be a useful way of characterising a development at the core of ‘the game played between man and nature’ (cf. Dimitriadis 2006). According to Vidal de la Blanche (1922), humans must have created a ‘logic of relationships’ in order to gain deeper understandings of the landscapes they inhabited and to structure their activities in relation to the ways in which the dynamics of events in these landscapes evolved. What de la Blanch suggested, and what recent landscape approaches to the earliest human life ways further illustrate, is the importance of experiential metaphors for understanding the emergence of ‘anthropomorphic territories’, for instance where hills, lakes, rivers, mountains, and valleys persist, not as static entities apart from human life ways, but in metaphorical relationships to communities as embodiments of ancestors – their heads, arms, legs, and well as their embodied intentions and concerns. Such metaphors, not only mesh

(1) the distinct association of landforms that can be seen in a single view (cf. Parker 1984). (2) neither a point, focus, locality, nor even a defined area, but a composition, palimpsest, microcosm, continuous surface; panorama continuously undergoing change (cf. Meinig 1979). (3) a cultural image which is formed, reformed, deformed, and unformed at the same and different times by the same and different people (cf. Daniels and Cosgrove 1988) in the sense of a Weltashaung. (4) the world as it is known to those who dwell therein, who inhabit its places and journey along the paths connecting its places (Ingold 1993: 156). (5) an ‘overused’ term (Bailey 1997:48). The situation may be changing due to a variety of factors, including: (1) landscape archaeology and anthropology’s changing roles in wider social and ecological affairs.

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LANDSCAPE IN MIND (2) employments of anthropological and archaeological methods in such fields as the history of science, science and technology studies and philosophy to investigate materials obscured by standard accounts of ‘science and modernity; (3) interest in the philosophical implications of material culture, the complexity of technological instruments and practices and the dynamics of human environmental relationships (cf. Ingold 2000).

George Dimitriadis critically analyses the current state of terms relating to the theme of ‘space-scape’’ and illustrates means to enhance these by focusing on technological complexity, with examples drawn from archaeological research from very different times and geographical contexts. Part 2 is structured around the theme of anthropological perspectives on landscape. Lion Sim’s chapter concerns the relevance of an ethnographic orientation towards astronomy for illuminating something of the ‘logic of site occupation’ of ancient monuments.

This interest is evidenced by such new research foci and terms as: the history of the concept of landscape (Laszlowsky-Szabò 2003); sense of place (cf. Bradley 2000); culture and technological choice (Lemonnier ed. 1993) time, material culture and social histories (Thomas 2001; Singlenton, in the present volume); social space (Tilley 1997); landscape in flux (cf. Chapman-Dolukhanov 1997); figured places (Chippindale and Nash 2000); as well as much contested meanings of place and identity (for instance, Layton et al eds. 2001).

Building upon his very considerable experience of academic professional practice Henry Doseldla develops an approach to interpreting archaeological materials grounded in everyday life. He illustrates the relevance of this approach for ethno-archaological interpretation of contemporary Mbowamb space perception and archaeological site Central Europe.

The contributors to the present volume were asked to variously address its central theme from perspectives offered by joint anthropological and archaeological approaches, as well as to engage some of the philosophical implications of landscape as highly interdisciplinary concept – one, which can and does draw upon a range of life and physical sciences (as shown by Emilia Pasztor’s cultural astronomy approach).

Antonio Guerci’s contribution centres on a crucial but much neglected aspect of human-environmental relationships, namely, healing. For Guerci, research in ethno-medicine has very significant philosophical implications, including for appreciating the complexity of interaction of the human body with space. Guerci’s chapter shows how the human body perceives space as mi-lieu.

The fifteen contributions are grouped into four parts. Part I concerns philosophical backgrounds and current implications. Livio Dobrez’s chapter introduces us to the notion of ‘imaginational space’ as historically contingent, embodied and materially embedded lived reality, which are variously structured around visual, verbal as well as performed narratives. Such a notion may be of considerable interest for considering today’s ‘virtual space’ in comparative perspective, for instance in terms of the technologies and forms of enskillment involved.

Matteo Meschiari explores an innovative approach reordering the question. According him man is the expression of the landscape who lives. This a poetic viewpoint based in a strong philosophical background on Bachelard, Klages, Guattari, Serres etc. theories. Part 3 centers on cultural astronomy approach. Emilia Pasztor’s contribution begins with a critical and constructive introduction to the field of ‘archaeoastronomy, with attention to new directions of research. She illustrates the importance of highly self-reflexive orientations for pursuing new questions in light of diverse archaeological materials, with examples from Carpathian Basin prehistory.

Stephanie Koerner explores the bearing that inquiries into the deeper historical backgrounds of ‘tensions’ traversing landscape archaeology (Davis and Thomas ed. 2008) might have upon concerns, on the part of a number of influential political philosophers with supposedly ‘shrinking political space’ and obstacles to integrating disagreement into ‘deliberative democracy.’ For Koerner, especially landscape archaeologies directly engaging forces, which are deepening inequalities with regards to exposure to techno-science hazard, unsustainable development and political violence, demonstrate the relevance to such concerns of hitherto eclipsed philosophical orientations grounded in the selfevident insight that no one has or ever will be pre-modern.

Saša Čaval’s chapter brings her archaeo-astronomical insights to bear upon an exploration of political and religious connotations of Romanesque sacral architecture, in light of research into astronomical and folkloristic materials associated with this architectural tradition. Kate Prendergast illustrates a ‘site-network’ approach to landscape, through an exploration of the typology, location and orientation of Neolithic passage grave sites in Ireland. 2

GEORGE DIMITRIADIS: INTRODUCTION Terry Meaden argues, in light of the famous Neolithic site of Avebury, that the landscape of this period in this part of southern Britain formed a ‘hieros-gamos’ of natural features, stone-human imagery and cosmological beliefs about astronomical realms.

l’Antropologie prior to its publication, and to Steph Koerner for her humanity.

Part 4 concentrates on archaeological fieldwork.

Beck, B.B. Animal Tool Behavior. The Use nad Manufacture of Tools by Animals. New York: Garland Publishing. Bradley, R. 2000. An Archaeology of Natural Places. London: Routledge. Chapman, J. and Dolukhanov, P. 1997. Landscapes in Flux. Central and Eastern Europe in Antiquity. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Daniels, S. and Cosgrove, D. 1988 (eds.) The Iconography of Landscape: Essays on the Symbolism, representation, Design and Use of Past Environments. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1-10. Dimitriadis, G. 2006. From Paleolithic ’Venus’ to Anthropomorphic Statue-Menhir. The Ideological evolution of human body in prehistoric art, in E. Zacharopoulou (ed.) Beyond the Mind-body Dualism: Psychoanalyis and the Human Body, 7-12. Elsevier : ICS. Heidegger, M. 1973 [1953]. The Question Concerning Technology and Other Essays, translated and edited by W. Lovitt. New York: Harper & Row. Ingold, T. 1993. The temporality of landscape. World Archaeology 25(2), 152-74. Ingold, T. 2000. The Perception of the Environment, London : Routledge. Koerner, S. 2007. Philosophy and Archaeology, in A. Bentley and H. Mascher (eds.) Handbook in Humanities Theory. London: Altamira. Laszlowsk, J. and Szabò, P. 2003. People and Nature in Historical Perspective. Budapest: CEU Medievalia & Archaeolingua. Layton, R and Ucko, P. 1999. The Archaeology and Anthropology of Landscape. London: Routledge. Layton, R., Stone, P. and Thomas, J. (eds.) 2001. Destruction and Conservation of Cultural Property. London: Routledge. Lemonnier, P. (ed.) (1993) Technological Choices: Transformation in Material Culture since the Neolithic. London: Routledge. Meinig, D.W. (ed.), 1979. The Interpretation of Ordinary Landscapes : Geographical Essays. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Singleton, M. La Technologie entre l’Archeologie et l’Antropologie. (unpublished manuscript). Thomas, J. 2001 1996. Time, culture and Identity: an interpretive archaeology. London: Routledge. Tilley, C. 1997. A Phenomenology of Landscape. Oxford: Berg Publishers. Vidal de la Blance, P. 1922. Principes de géografie humaine, Paris, Collin.

References

George Nash illustrates the importance of fieldwork amongst other interpretive practices required to understand something of the complexity of the roles fire technologies played amongst other forms of symbolic expression, which animated Neolithic rock-art and passage grave landscapes. Luiz Oosterbeek’s chapter builds upon analyses of Neolithic rock-art contexts to explore the light themes of ‘space’ and ‘landscape’ can throw upon problems with dualist characterisations of nature and culture. Gonçalo Leite Velho draws upon research into current philosophy and sociology of media in order to explore landscape around monumental sites of 3rd millennium in South Western Europe. This enables him to develop a ‘marioskas’ landscape model, which situated human activities at once in relation to local landscapes and wider cosmological orientations. Davide Delvino inquiries into landscapes of metal resource management documented by Bronze Age sites of alpine western Italy. In the final chapter of the section, Philippe Hameau explores the landscape of gorges du Carami from ‘within.’ Hameau develops the notion of ‘neg-entropy’ to bring light to the ‘exclusion quality’ of expressions of Neolithic spatial experiences of landscape in rock-art in the region. He is not arguing on space boundaries rather refers to a latent spatial psychism which persist from Neolithic time. The volume concludes with an attempt, on Koerner’s part, to struggle with questions about what changes in perspectives on landscape (one of the key areas of mutual philosophical interest shared by social anthropology and archaeology) might suggest about broader changes in conceptions of the tasks of philosophy centring on insights that – not timeless abstractions – but emergent novelty is normal for reality and crucial for understanding how humans find the world intelligible. She concludes by highlighting something of the relevance of such jointly philosophical, political and moral insights for sustaining plurality of aspirations for the future. The editor warmly thanks all contributors for their generous efforts and patience with the editing process. Special thanks to Michael Singleton for allowing me to read his manuscript La Technologie entre l’Archéologie et 3

New and Old Paradigms: the Question of Space Livio Dobrez The last hundred years have habituated us to some strange notions of space, for example the notion that it is curved by the force of gravity. But even on the less-than-cosmic scale at which archaeology and anthropology operate, space is not so easy to comprehend. At an everyday level we think of it as, if not a vacuum, at least a void of sorts which is undifferentiated or homogenous as well as neutral or inert and, in a way not easily grasped, extended, possibly to infinity. It marks the relation between objects and also something objects ‘occupy’ and likewise ‘vacate’ when they move to another location. Kant’s celebrated analysis in the ‘Transcendental Aesthetic’ section of the Critique of Pure Reason argued against the empiricist notion of space as derived from our experience of things ‘out there’. Rather space is the a priori condition under which we experience external reality, the way in which we construct externals. To the extent that the lens of space cannot be removed from our eyes, space may be regarded as subjective. But it is also objective in that it remains empirically real. The debate between the idea of space as structuring our perception and as something empirically perceived continues. In the twentieth century the most notable contribution to the anti-empiricist position was Heidegger’s in Being and Time, in which Kant’s epistemological model (relating to our knowledge of things) was turned into a new ontology, an analysis of space in terms of the way we are, i.e. our way of being.

and so much so that we lose them until we recall that they are sitting on our nose. But we do not need a philosopher to tell us what we already know, that a kilometre downhill is a quite different animal from a kilometre uphill. To insist that, on measurement, both turn out ‘one kilometre’ says nothing about our everyday experience of space. Nor is it adequate to relegate this experience to a lesser level which we label ‘subjective’. It is not something we can dismiss as subjective but the normal and universal way we interact with our environment. In short, while the epistemological subjectobject model of external interaction has its uses, it cannot be taken as a descriptive norm for the human condition. Actually we inhabit several, and quite different, forms of space. There is lived space, which should also be termed real space. This is the space in which we habitually move and which is not external to us but a concomitant of our activities (making some easier, some more difficult), something to be taken into account as we go about our business, an indissoluable nexus of ‘in’ and ‘out’ — outside in the sense that it affects our projects, ‘in’ insofar as it pertains to our projects — ‘in’ and ‘out’ insofar as it constitutes a basic condition (along with time) of the possibility of all projects. Of course there is such a thing as measurable, empirical space as well, a space generated by our abstracting ourselves from lived space. In the language of Phenomenology it exists as a ‘founded’ or secondary phenomenon, rather than a ‘founding’, primary one. This space is essential to the technological paradigm.

Heidegger compellingly argues that the idea of space is an after-effect of the fact that we are always-already engaged with our external world. We are primordially, that is, in our ontic constitution, outside ourselves, involved in concerns which tie us to things beyond our immediate selves. What this means is that, strictly speaking, for us there is no distinction between ‘in’ and ‘out’. In the terminology, we are ‘being-in-the-world’, the ‘world’ no longer defined as ‘out there’ but as penetrating our being even as we constitute it as our world — the space of our practical everyday concerns and activities. It is here that, after the fact, we may switch to viewing the world epistemologically, that is, as object to ourselves as knowing subjects. In this scenario, we separate ourselves artificially from our sphere of operations in order to view it, as we say, ‘objectively’. Now things are regarded as external and their space as homogenous and measurable. But it is important to see that this is not an adequate description of our initial and fundamental relation to things or of our primary experience of space. Heidegger nicely points out that in this primary or ‘founding’ scenario the glasses we use to look at an object are not ‘closer’ to us than the object, quite the reverse —

I would add that there are more than two kinds of space. A third that is readily conceivable is the space of representations. This may be termed imagined or, better still (and given that ‘imagined’ might carry connotations of unreality), ‘imaginational’ space. Imaginational space is a perfectly real variant of lived space. Let’s say (allowing a little cliché) that we are listening to a blind bard who opens with the words ‘The Wrath of Achilles is my theme’ or again, ‘Tell me, Muse, the story of that resourceful man . . .’. In northern Australia the opening might be that of the Djanggawul saga which describes an ancestral voyage — across seas shining with the light of the Morning Star — from Bralgu, island of the dead, to the mainland: ‘Although I leave Bralgu, I am close to it. I, Djanggawul, am paddling . . .’. Let’s assume that, listening attentively to any of these stories, we are sitting on the ground under a tree. As we listen, our empirical space has no relevance. Even our real lived space recedes: we are no longer really sitting on the ground etc. Unless of course we become e.g. physically 5

LANDSCAPE IN MIND uncomfortable, requiring to shift our position. After which, however, we once more suspend our sense of real space and return to the imaginational space structured by our minds on the basis of the story in question. We see, as imagined, a plain filled with fighting men; or that resourceful, postwar wanderer; or that mythical craft paddled by Djanggawul over the shining sea. This is not a mere exercise in arbitrary fantasy. It is tied to the phonetic/semantic structure of the story in question and varies from listener to listener only to the extent that all stories are schematic and require detailed filling in of inderminations or ‘gaps’ by each listener. Anyone familiar with Reception Theory will recognise that in this analysis I am following the ideas of the Polish phenomenologist Roman Ingarden.The same analysis applies to my reading of a novel or indeed my reception of a film. In each case imaginational space foregrounds itself in such a way as to constitute a distinct and universallyexperienced variation of everday lived space. It is arguably this imaginational space which is of special interest to anthropologists, though its structure and operation is more usually an object of discourse for literary theorists. But contemporary anthropology, no longer restricted solely to the empirical paradigm, is well aware that its methodology is discursive, a metastory or story about other stories. In saying which, however, I am far from advocating a wholesale rejection of empirics in favour of some version of post-structuralism.

imaginational or narrative space is projected out into real space. Thus a river is identified as the snake of a given story, a hill or a rock as the snake’s wife etc. This now real narrative space may again be transmuted into representational space, for example by painting a (symbolic) map of the story. In Central Australia the rock or hill will be represented as a circle, the snake/river as a sinuous line, much as the three continents of Europe, Africa and Asia were depicted symbolically in mediaeval T-O maps. In this case there would be a circle (‘O’) subdivided by a ‘T’ sign — the joint in the ‘T’ indicating the location of Jerusalem. Of course empirical space features in modern — and ancient — maps whose aim is to project some approximation of measurable space. In this case space is neutralized and homogenous. Where anthropology may be thought of as having a special interest in space as a verbal-narrative construct, archaeology may well focus on visual narratives. Here I am thinking specifically about rock art, its recording and attempted interpretation. Of course archaeology’s traditional concern has been with spaces for living: the vestiges (‘material culture’) of habitations or tombs, various categories of ‘places’, regional distributions of various kinds etc. Though the methodology remains solidly empirical, new paradigms have been introduced. At Lisbon’s 2006 UISPP conference I heard Vítor Oliveira Jorge give a paper on prehistoric architecture influenced by a Heideggerian interpretation of ‘dwelling’. Julian Thomas’ Time, Culture and Identity likewise models its presentation of space on Heidegger. It is not, I think, a question of abandoning time-tested measurement techniques — simply of refining some of our perspectives, with the help of hermeneutic, often phenomenological, thought, so as to do justice not merely to objective space but also to that overarching lived space in which humans actually operate on an everyday basis.

Imaginational space may be prompted by visual, as well as verbal, narratives. When I look at Bernini’s ‘Apollo and Daphne’ in the Villa Borghese, both I and the sculpture are — measurably — in empirical space. The sculpture also exists in (my) real lived space, as I do. But, watching the vain pursuit and its climax in metamorphosis, I live out (as an observer and not a participant) the space of the chase, the capture, the metamorphosis. Likewise when I observe a narrative painted on a rock surface, say, in the Spanish Levant, of e.g. stag and does rushing, right to left, towards a line of waiting hunters, I relinquish my real space (standing under a shelter at Valltorta) and enter a narrative space in which there is imagined motion right to left, space opening out behind the animal herd, closing dramatically between animals and hunters facing them. In short, I experience space imaginatively as if I were present at the hunt. As with verbal narrative, the space in question is not arbitrary but cued or prompted by the, in this case, visual markers. It is not to be confused with my real space. Nor is it identifiable with the empirical measurement of the distance between one hunter and another, or one animal and another, or animals and hunters etc. Rather it depends on a whole impression or Gestalt of the narrative scene and its components.

My own interest in representation leads me to an analysis of verbal and visual narrative space, but also to spatial implications for non-narrative forms. For details I refer the reader to to the paper included in the 2007 XXII Valcamonica Symposium and before that to the one given at UISPP 2006 and currently in the press. Here it suffices to say that there are images, in rock art and indeed in any kind of art, whose visual markers prompt a response quite unlike that prompted by narrative scenes. The Valltorta example used above makes it clear that when I read a representation as a ‘scene’ in which something is happening, I foreground the space of the scene over my own lived space. However, when I face a (characteristically large) image which is full-frontal, often with prominent eyes, probably vertically-symmetrical, I am likely, given sufficient and sufficiently strong visual markers, to receive the image as confronting me or coming out towards me. In short such an image will not draw me into its space, that’s to say into an imaginational space, but will read as if entering my actual

There are fascinating complications in all this. For example, a narrative may be projected onto a landscape, as normally happens in indigenous Australian mythology, in which case 6

LIVIO DOBREZ: NEW AND OLD PARADIGMS: THE QUESTION OF SPACE lived space. Obviously I am talking about reception and not empirics. I have termed images of this interactive sort ‘hieratic’ or ‘performative’ and, like narrative representations, they may be of any kind or style. A fullfrontal Thai Buddha is received or read in this way, as is the famous Buddha at Kamakura. But the same may be said of Australian Wandjinas or the well-known frieze at Barrier Canyon, Utah.

Thomas, J., 1996, Time, Culture & Identity: An interpretive archaeology (London and New York: Routledge) Kant, I., trans. Smith, N. K., 1933, Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason (London: Macmillan)

To conclude: there are varieties of space over and above the empirical which are of key interest to scholars like myself who work at the meeting-points of many disciplines — literary, philosophical, art-historical, archaeological and anthropological. Notably these include diverse sorts of representational space. Reception Theory, inspired by Husserl, Ingarden and others, provides one rigorous form of analysis in this field, as does the work initiated by Heidegger and carried on by Gadamer. A brief addendum is in order, though: we are currently in the process of inventing at least one new variety of space, space which is virtual. This is not exactly imaginational, though it has logical connections with it (virtuality is not the same as fiction). Virtual space is — and for good or ill — the space of the future.

Bibliography Berndt, R., trans., Djanggawul: An Aboriginal Religious Cult of North-Eastern Arnhem Land (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul) Dobrez, L., 2007, ‘The Reception of Visual Representations’ in Proceedings of the XXII International Valcamonica Symposium: Rock art in the framework of the Cultural Heritage of Humankind (Capo di Ponte: Edizioni del Centro) Dobrez, L., forthcoming, ‘Narrative and Non-Narrative Figurative Representation’, presented at UISPP Congress XV, Lisbon Heidegger, M., trans. Macquarie, J. and Robinson, E., 1962, Being and Time (London: Basil Blackwell) Homer, trans. Rieu, E. V., 1950, The Iliad (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books) Homer, trans. Rieu, E. V., 1946,The Odyssey (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books) Ingarden, R., trans. Grabowicz, G. G., 1973, The Literary Work of Art: An Investigation on the Borderlines of Ontology, Logic, and Theory of Literature (Evanston: Northwestern University Press) Ingarden, R., trans. Crowley, R. A. and Olson, K. R., 1973, The Cognition of the Literary Work of Art (Evanston: Northwestern University Press) Jorge, V. O., 2006, ‘Approaching “Prehistoric and Protohistoric Architectures” of Europe from a “Dwelling Perspective”’, Journal of Iberian Archaeology 8, pp. 203-264 7

The Emergent Novelty of Landscape in Poet Orators’ Perspectives: Landscape Archaeology and Sustaining Plurality of Future Aspirations Stephanie Koerner 1 Introduction

improvements in technology and universal educations in the sciences has lost much of its credibility in recent years.” By contrast, Michio Kaku’s best selling book, Visions: How Science will Revolutionize the 21st Century (1997) claims that, as science “progresses” from and “age of discovery to an age of control”: humans will increasingly conduct their affairs through in computers’ “virtual reality,” and machines will become “biological” – developing intelligence, recognising objects and meanings, displaying emotions, forming judgments – and playing more and more central roles in running society. Such discrepancies may have implications for ‘tensions’ in landscape archaeology, for instance, between “commercial field archeology and academic field” (David and Thomas 2008).

In the introduction of a recent ‘handbook on ‘landscape archaeology the editors, Bruno David and Julian Thomas note that … during the 1970s and 1980s ‘landscape archaeology ceased to be simply a unit of analysis over and above the ‘site’ and became instead an object of investigation in its right. As a specialised term within the archaeological discipline, the word has witnesses a recent efflorescence, and with this a privileged if somewhat uneasy use. This is because what archaeologists have understood to be ‘landscape archaeology ’ has shifted, so that today it does not mean exactly what it used to even 20 years ago…. Indeed even within the works of individual archaeologists, the term may shift its connotations according to context (David and Thomas 2008: 27-28).

There are also conflicts between concerns to deepen the “reflexivity” of the “politics and ethics” of research and teaching (Thomas 2004; Meskell and Pols eds. 2005) and the expanding “culture of auditing and accountability… shaped by the migration of ideas and practices across transnational managerial domains” (Strathern 2000; Lazzari 2008: 646). These include ideas and practices motivated by presuppositions of quite a few commercial and government institutions and expert advisory agencies that issues of ‘public trust’ are reducible to ‘risk costs and benefit’ statistics (Jasanoff 1995; Wynne 1994), which are based on further presuppositions that publics concerns are restricted to the questions – “Is it safe? Will it be expensive?” Amongst other things, such presuppositions eclipse the very considerable evidence that matters of public concern can and do include much wider range of questions, including: “Where is policy going? Is it desirable? What can we do? Can those in control be trusted to ask these sorts of questions themselves?”

This does not mean that there are no patterns. David and Thomas stress distinguishing today’s emergent approaches from both (a) the ways in which culture historians’ conceptualised ‘sites’ and ‘artifacts’ during the first half of the 20th century (for instance, Childe 1929, and (b) ‘New’ and ‘processual’ approaches to relationships between ‘static patterns’ in the ‘archaeological record’ and ‘dynamic processes’ in the past (for instance, Binford 1972; Clarke 1968, 1972). Further, emphasis on connotations shifting “according to context” is not an argument that variability is arbitrary, but that variations are context dependent – hinging, amongst other things, upon such “tensions” as the following. ‘Tensions between new versions of ‘two cultures’ (cf. Snow [1959] 1962). These sort of tensions include widening gaps between the normative status of ‘framework relativist’ paradigms (analytic, sociological and continental) for the tasks of philosophy (or theory) in the humanities and social sciences and extraordinary unities being forged by changes in the scales, normative roles and conceptions of sources of the objectivity of science Latour and Woolgar 1979; Galison 1996; Daston and Galison 2005; Hall 2005; S. Koerner 2007).

Ethics is nowadays a major pre-occupation traversing institutional structures that both divide and connect ‘two cultures’ debates, with much attention focusing on ‘going beyond’ notions of a supposedly timeless placeless rational ‘individual.’ But the presuppositions that sustain these debates and institutional structures permit only two options: (a) gathering more lines of evidence in support of claims to truth, or (b) addressing privatised questions about the politics and morality of “who I am and would like to be, and of what is good for me in the long run” (Habermas 2003),

Thus, on one hand, Brian Molyneux (1994: 1) writes at the beginning of Presented Past. Heritage, museums and education (Stone and Molyneux eds. 1994) that the “notion that a world culture can be created simply through

‘Tensions’ between (a) the embeddedness of the histories of landscape archaeology painting and map 9

LANDSCAPE IN MIND making in the history of the “rationalisation of ‘vision’ and ‘cognition” (of the so-called Scientific Revolution and Birth of Modernity”) and the ways in which ‘crises over representation’ have supposedly been ‘settled’ around new conceptions of ‘objectivity’ and new versions of caricatures of ‘problems with beliefs of others’ and ‘public deficits of rationality’ (Crombie 1981; Blumenberg 1983, Cosgrove and Daniels eds. 1988; Latour 1993; Sharma 1995, Daston and Galison 2005; J.L. Koerner 2004); and (b) arguments that landscape archaeology may help promote pluralist dialogical ethics and multi-cultural democracy (David and Thomas 2008: 27; Lazzari 2008: 644),

Today especially salient advantages of these shared features are being realised by projects to address the jointly social and environmental problems at stake in situations where controversies over ‘lived cultural landscapes’ are embedded in deepening inequalities with regards to exposure to techno-science hazard, unsustainable development and political conflict. Part 4 illustrates this theme with examples from research on European Community (EU) science and technology policy (Felt and Wynne ed. 2007; Koerner and Wynne 2008), and from an ongoing cultural and ecological conservation project designed by James Wescoat (2007) in Gujarat, India.

Amongst other things, at issue is the clash between (a) the recurrent importance to such ‘settlements’ of the long history of the equations of consensus = intelligible, and disagreement = mutually un-intelligible (or incommensurate) and (b) the idea that envisaging “landscape archaeologies as un-common grounds” can promote appreciation of the importance for ‘integrating difference into deliberative democracy’ of not fearing absence of consensus… and harboring the fantasy that conflictive situations may ever achieve a final equilibrium” (Laclau 1993; Benhabib ed. 1996; Lazzard 2008: 647).

Part 5 concludes by drawing together the chapter’s constructive themes, and with some suggestions about landscape archaeology’s relevance for fresh perspectives on integrating disagreement (not simply ‘difference’) into democratically deliberating plurality of aspirations for the future. Part 2 Contextualising Archaeology

‘Tensions’

in

Landscape

“Contradiction, Jack Goody says, is neither a property of the mind nor of the scientific method, but a property of reading letters and signs inside new settings that focus attention on inscriptions alone” (Latour 1986).

My broad aim with this chapter is to highlight the relevance of such ‘tensions’ deeper historical backgrounds for carrying hopes forward hopes strongly reflective approaches to landscape archaeology can form a terrain where the logic, rationality and ethical value of diverse of interpretations of the past, and plurality of aspirations for the future is acknowledged.

Writing on why tensions around themes of Place, Culture, Representation (Duncan and Ley eds. 1993) can provide points of departure for critical and constructive “interventions in the historical geography of modernity,” Derek Gregory recalls Walter Benjamin’s (1892-1940) insights of “irrevocable tensions” of modern times and “our precarious present.” For Gregory, Benjamin and a number of archaeologists working in contexts exhibiting deep contradictions of ‘globalisation’ the most crucial challenges are irreducible to ‘is and ought’. Rather, they involve widening gaps between:

Part 2 contextualises this aim, by considering the above outlined tensions’ embeddings in contradictory trends traversing the dynamics of pedagogical institutions and public affairs under circumstances summarised by expressions like ‘globalisation’ and ‘risk society’. Part 3 concerns deeper historical backgrounds of the above outlined tensions, with attention to materials relating to:

(a) predominant pedagogical and political ideals and existential and moral conditions, (b) means to express very different experiences of these discrepancies, in particular, including means to sustain plurality of public grounds of truth and aspirations for the future.

(a) contextual circumstances of the ‘rationalisation of sight’ – at issue with much concern with historical associations of ‘landscape archaeology’ with claims to the capacities of a few (new versions of Platonist, and Aristotelean philosopher kings ) for timeless placeless objectivity (b) roots of shared features landscape archaeology and ‘practice’ approaches to the history of science in traditions, which have challenged ‘two cultures’ disputes from perspectives offered by poet orators rather than philosopher kings as pedagogical and political ideal.

For Benjamin (1939), the First World War initiated “a process began which has not halted since. Was it not noticeable at the end of the war that [those who] returned from the battlefield were silent – not richer, but poorer in communicative experience.” Perhaps never, Benjamin said, has experience been more thoroughly contradicted than by the ways in which the forces of science and technology have been directed – not towards ‘social progress’ – but by the barbarities of mechanical warfare wielding hitherto 10

STEPHANIE KOERNER: THE EMERGENT NOVELTY OF LANDSCAPE IN POET ORATORS’ PERSPECTIVES unimaginable power. Perhaps, he said, everything has been irrevocably transformed, except the sky, and beneath its clouds, enveloped in destruction, torrents, frozen snow, and ferocious explosions – tiny fragile humans nevertheless aspire not only to endure but carry forward hopes for the future.

realms marginalised by non-communication between philosophical models of human agency and knowledge and research on the part of philologists (or what we would call socio-cultural anthropology and archaeology) into the diversity of humanity’s histories, but bearing directly upon questions about the plurality of forms truth can take that are relevance for addressing contemporary problems.

The stakes increased exponentially. In his ‘Thesis on the Philosophy of History’ (1992 [1940]) Benjamin argued that ‘state of emergency’ was not an exceptional for modernity, but one of its ruling principles. He believed that insight of the situation can help us to intervene in meta-narratives about human agency and history, which eclipse the barbarity of what powerful political ideologies call ‘civilising’ processes. Benjamin’s motivations were not restricted to critique. He explored strengths of Immanuel Kant’s (1795) arguments that new forms of “publicity” could illuminate discrepancies between claims to peace and “mere cease fires,” as well as create realms where everyday people could treat one another as free and equal “citizens of the world.” But he objected to Kant’s views that public trust and governance should be put in the hands of philosophers’ expert competence until such realms were realised. For Benjamin, such views were mistaken and undemocratic. Promising realms already existed, and were expanding as technologies for mass reproduction, photography, cinema and new artistic expressions of social concerns undermined the ‘aura’ of ‘canonical’ artworks. For Benjamin (1940), Paul Klee’s painting, Angelus Novus, indicated something of the importance to such realms of the arts.

One feature that socially oriented landscape archaeology and the ‘practice turn’ in contemporary theory share with these traditions, is reflective awareness of the philosophical relevance of the comparative (analogical) methodologies, as well as of the extraordinary evidence (against the grain of unilinear schemes for ‘stages’ in the evolution of ‘nature’ and ‘culture’) for the historical contingency of coeval plurality of human life ways. Another is awareness that dualist oppositions of truth versus politics and ethics (of the episteme versus techniques and morality and of ‘science versus technology and values) are themselves value judgments. Expressed in Bruno Latour and Stephen Woolgar’s (1979) and Ian Hacking’s (1983) terms: we don’t formulate ‘facts’ (representations) first, and then start to technologically intervene and think about communication and audience persuasion afterwards. Concerns over adequate evidence, salience, consistency, communication and audiences’ interests in, understandings and lack thereof are always there from the onset. 2.1 Where are we going? Is this desirable? What can be done?

Klee’s angel is being hurdled into the future. This, Benjamin said, was how to depict consequences of claims to predict and control ‘progress. While the problems human beings experience and attempt to address are context dependent, the furious angel of modernity’s most powerful political ideologies sees only one catastrophic hurling wreckage - the pile of immanent debris grows skyward.

“Dualisms are distinctions whose components are conceived in terms that make their characteristic relations to one another unintelligible” (Brandom, Making It Explicit. Reasoning, Representing and Discursive Commitment, 2004, 615). David and Thomas (2008) stress that many factors have contributed to “more socially oriented approaches to landscape archaeology,” including:

It bears noting that the truth conditions of Klee’s angel are not reducible to categories around which ‘two cultures’ disputes are structured. They are rooted in realms, which have recurrently been eclipsed by both foundationalists and relativists conceptions of the requirements of a ‘science’ (episteme), and associated equations of consensus = intelligible, and disagreement = mutual un-intelligible.

(a) information generated by material culture sourcing studies, (b) the rising importance of cultural heritage management and public. (c) a developing interest in ‘style’ heritage management indicated that (d) indigenous critiques.

The realms that concerned Benjamin, as well as major contributors to traditions centering, not on Platonist and Aristotelian versions of the philosopher king, but on poet orators as pedagogical and political ideal (Horace, 65-8 BC, 1928; Cicero, 106-43 BC, 1942; Vico [1744] 1948) can be summarised by the expression ‘public grounds of truth. The expression is a rough translation of the Italian term publici motive del veri – that Vico and his predecessors of antiquity and the early Renaissance employed to refer to

Additional factors are likely to include concerns with change in conditions of possibility for reflective orientations towards research and teaching. Writing on such change, Martin Hall (2005) observes that:

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LANDSCAPE IN MIND Most anthropological practice is now imbued, in one way or another, with the epistemology of postmodernism and affected by the epistemology of relativism. Modernist concepts such as generalized laws of behaviour and objective truths have been discounted in favour of a larger meta-theory – that there can be no general principles of knowledge. [In these views] ethical codes and concepts of morality are anathema, relics from the grand theories of modernism. At the same time, though, postmodernism seems profoundly ethical, insisting on the equivalence of all social contexts and exposing the ‘othering’ that is anthropology’s burden (Hall 2005: 169).

(b) new versions of ‘two cultures” – between postmodern cultural relativist paradigms and beliefs in science (to use Michio Kaku’s 1997 terms) “progressing” from and “age of discovery to control.” There is abundant literature on globalisation. Few images are more widespread than those of intense time-space interconnectedness (Harvey (1989; Giddens 1990; Inda and Rosaldo 2002). For some we live in a time where no units or scales count for much but the globe. Celebratory images dichotomise: (a) modernity as an era of nation-state thinking - homogeneity, ethnic absolutism, racism, indigenism, essentialism versus (b) a post modern future of transnationalism, hybridity, global flows and the univeralisation of liberal democracy through the expansion of techno-science knowledge based political economies (Benhabib ed. 1996; Friedman 2001). Discrepant experiences are treated as if they were restricted to particular places – especially to ‘backward local traditions’ (Fardon 1995; Heatherton 2001). These images proliferate in tandem with expanding global tourism industries and employments of high-tech instruments and practices to modify and maximise ‘global’ dynamics of places and proximities (Urry 1990, 1995).

He notes that, in tandem with this development: As public institutions such as state funded universities and museums have become more commercially oriented, disciplines such as anthropology and archaeology have joined a broad family of consultants that includes psychology cultural resource management, environmental impacts analysis, geology, and the earth and life sciences in general (Hall 2005). Hall is particularly concerned with the former developments, and says they can be better understood in light of Arjun Appadurai’s (1996) model of global flows of resources, people and information, Manuel Castells’ (1996) ‘network society’ and Hardt and Negri’s (2000) ‘empire,’ which variously:

Not all the images are celebratory. Expressions like ‘culture’ and ‘multi-culturalism’ can and have been used in ways that eclipse the existential and moral struggles of people, who are most exposed to ecological risk, unsustainable economic development projects, exploitation, poverty, dislocation, social exclusion, and political conflict. For many powerful competitors at the cores of today’s knowledge based political economies, “risk-taking” is a key ingredient of “instrumental employments of science” to “put the future at the service of the present” (Bernstein 1996). Highly developed government and commercial institutions to try to anticipate what cannot be anticipated, often forgetting that the first law of risk society goes: catastrophic risk follows the poor and socially vulnerable (Beck 1992). Under the subsection heading “‘taking sides’ in a trope,” in Counter Works. Managing the Diversity of Knowledge, Richard Fardon says:

show [how] the ligaments of a new order in which the decentred networks that [once] challenged the ordered world of modernism have been turned to the advantage of…new strategies of rule…. [Further,] concepts such as ‘transcendental ethics’ and truth’ may be anathema in some circles, schooled in the tradition of the revolt against modernism. But as Hardt and Negri [2000: 155] point out, forms of resistance may reject postmodernism and valorise absolute principles – in the context of state terror and mystification, clinging too the primacy of the concept of truth can be a powerful and necessary form of resistance (Hall 2005: 169-171). 2.2 New Versions of ‘Two Cultures”

“I think it is a matter of varied conjuncture of unequally empowered processes and imaginings that are localized conceptually as figures against the ground of global space that is both traversed and simultaneously classified, possessed and defended exhaustively…. [I]t is a matter…of the complexity of agency recognised in particular places…. If we give ourselves some elbow room with respect to the present these preoccupations with space and locality… and with how things occur in spaces and how they seem, appear symptomatic of the same condition” (Fardon 1995: 2).

Hall’s reference to expanding ‘expert policy advisory’ roles relates to further difficulties (cf. Wynne 1994; Jasanoff 1995; Novotny 2000; Novotney et al 2001), including clashes between: (a) claims about globalisation overcoming the ills of modernity and processes summarised by Ulrich Beck’s expressions ‘risk society and reflex modernisation,’

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STEPHANIE KOERNER: THE EMERGENT NOVELTY OF LANDSCAPE IN POET ORATORS’ PERSPECTIVES The publication of Ulrich Beck’s Risk Society towards a New Modernity (1992) marked a turning point in approaches. For Ulrich Beck (1992) what is being globalised is “risk society” and “reflex modernisation.” Beck (1992: 55) describes how “risk society” developed out of ecological and social consequences of instrumental employments of science and technology, which “now exceed the available means of control and protection.” The book’s subtitle relates to Beck’s arguments that the more modern society becomes, the more knowledge it creates about its dynamics and conflicts. This radically transforms contents and contexts of decisions and action. Individuals are released from structures, and they must redefine their actions under ‘reflexive modernity’s’ insecure conditions. The situation can lead to greater critical reflection upon contradictory trends. But ‘reflex modernisation’ can and has created barriers to such reflectivity, for instance, in situations where ‘post-modern relativist’ terms are used to legitimate claims to ‘political correctness’ on the part of commercial and government agencies, which in other contexts legitimate claims in terms of supposedly wholly context independent sources of (what Dalton and Galion 2005 call “aperspective”) objectivity.

Glocalization not facilitates ‘inter-connectedness,’ it transforms authority, deepens inequalities and fortifies new excluding ‘others.’ Some of the most sophisticated landscape archaeology is being carried out in contexts where there are direct and powerful connections between domestic and international conflicts and the state of tourism, cultural heritage preservation and human rights violations (Silver 2007). Researchers working under these circumstances, stress the value of context-dependent approaches to widely distributed “jointly social and ecological problems” (Wes coat 2007), including the embeddedness of heritage controversies in deepening inequalities with regards to exposure to ecological hazard, unsustainable development and political conflict – including conflicts resulting in grave human rights violations (Leach et al ed. 2005; Meskell and Pels eds. 2005; Silverman and Ruggles eds. 2005; Koerner and Singleton 2008). Reflective studies of contradictory trends of expanding tourism industries show that side-by-side with global tourists and travelers within many of those “empty meeting places” or “non-places” of modernity such as the airport lounge, the coach station, the railway terminus, the motorway service stations, docks and so on are countless global exiles (MacCannell, 1992; Augé, 1995). These exiles are fleeing from famine, war, torture, persecution, and genocide. Social inequalities and population displacements have magnified and forced mobility upon many (Urry 1995; Friedman 2001). Martin Hall’s (2005: 174) conception of “ethics at the margins of network society” refers to these realms, and their historical backgrounds. His research shows how deeply ideological images of Africa as natural and cultural world heritage are rooted highly problematic ethical trends over the last two centuries:

In a number of these situations, influentially antithetical contradictory elements drawn from both sides of ‘two cultures’ debates make it possible for some to supposedly ‘settle’ ‘crises over representations’ in ways that allow them (without sensing any contradiction) to paradoxically be: (a) absolute relativists (even iconoclasts) about everything they do not believe in, (b) absolute empiricists (in the ‘positivist’ sense that the pertinent ‘facts’ are said to ‘speak for themselves,’) about everything they do believe in, (c) absolute rationalists (in the sense that objectivity of truth conditions is assumed to derive from sources above and beyond the contingencies of particulars) about their most cherished matters of concern (cf. J.L. Koerner 2004; Labour 2004; S. Koerner).

First the ethics of the civilizing mission and the obligation to bring light to the ‘dark continent’; second, the ethics of liberation, nationalist histories in support of universal right to self-determination; third the ethics of science, the pursuit of truth for its own sake, irrespective of political context or implication (Hall 2005: 184).

As will be discussed in more detail below, despite the diversity of past and present day ‘settlements’ of this sort, there are recurrent patterns, including that they:

Hall (2005: 185) is particularly worried about impacts on local communities of powerful agencies of today’s “network society.” An incident in 2000 where two communities, whose histories have been closely related for centuries, made appeals to South Africa’s Land Claims Court is a vivid instantiation of widespread patterns. Significantly, the Khoe speaking community of Richterfeld’ appeal (submitted on legal property ownership grounds) was rejected, while the Bantu-speaking community of Khomani (who appealed through the National Part Board for a place within a ‘natural conservation zone’) was accepted. The latter demonstrated the continuity of the wilderness idea, and a model of sustainable development that fit global elites

(a) reduce trust to the purview of expert competence (Wynne 1996) (b) hinge upon the ‘myth of the clean slate’ – the idea that to address ‘problems of knowledge and social order’ we need to demolish everything that went before (Shaping and Schaffer 1985; Tooling 1990) (c) Eclipse the logic and rationality of plurality of public grounds of truth (Dewey 1936; Brando 1996; S. Koerner 2008).

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LANDSCAPE IN MIND images of Africa’s heritage (Hall 2995: 185). For Hall (2005: 173) at issue is a trope long identified as problematic in anthropology – “spatialised time”, in which distancing devices are used to the deny coevalness (Fabian 1983: 31) of ‘moderns and others.’

seems the highest virtue, the highest piety, in intellectual circles? (Latour, Iconoclash. Beyond the Image Wars in Science, Religion and Art , 2002: 14). Until rather recently, few archaeologists are likely to have been receptive to ideas that inquiries into materials hitherto eclipsed by ‘standard’ accounts of the so-called Scientific Revolution and Birth of Modernity might enhance indeed transform research in their areas of specialisation. Even fewer are likely to have been receptive to suggestions that circumstances, which concern Latour in the passage above might bear directly upon ‘tensions’ in their areas of specialisation.

The rise of network society and the information revolution’ offers rehabilitation of anthropology’s original sin – the distancing of the exotic through devises that use space and time to draw a boundary between the civilized and primitive worlds. Through the new technical devises – the collapse of time and space in virtual reality – … [decisions about land settlements with indigenous communities are positioned] in relation to the ever expanding market in exotic tourism and myriad spin-off industries (Hall 2005: 187).

I need to be careful about not being misunderstood. One of the main ways in which arguments concerning the relative merits of the most influentially opposed ‘processual and post-processual’ theoretical paradigms (and the analytic, sociological and continental traditions of rationalist, empiricist and relativist philosophy from which they drew many principles) were supported and critiqued was in terms of associations with Enlightenment and Romantic interpretations of science and modernity, respectively, as a triumph or as a tragedy. For example, Bruce Trigger (1995) writes:

Relating closely to the above mentioned paradoxical ‘settlements’ of ‘crises over representations,’ such denial of coevalness hinges upon agreements on partitioning (put in Latour’s 1993, 1999 terms): (a) a world “outside” supposedly untouched by human hands and impervious to human history (b) a mind isolated “inside” striving to gain an access to a certainty about the laws of the world outside, (c) a political world “down there”, clearly distinct from the world outside as from the mind inside, which is said to be agitated by fads and passions, flares of violence and eruptions of desires, collective phenomena that can be quieted down only by bringing in laws of science, in the same way that a fire can be extinguished only by water, foam and sand thrown from above, (d) a stance “up there” that serves as a warrant for the clear separation of these three spheres-a view from nowhere occupied by a force above and beyond the contingencies of our everyday affairs.

European thought has been dominated for over 200 years by a pervasive dichotomy between rationalism, universalism and positivism on the one hand and romanticism, particularism (or ‘alterity’), and idealism on the other. The first of the philosophical packages was initially associated with French liberalism, the second with German reaction... Both ethnic nationalism and postmodernism (which is the essence of post-processualism) are products of the romantic side of the polarity (Trigger 1984: 263). Such associations have been so widespread in the humanities and social sciences that opposing images of ‘science and modernity’ figure paradoxically amongst both the most and the least historicised of all presuppositions shaping disciplinary divisions and definitions. By the most historicised, I mean that both sides of ‘two cultures’ disputes envisage science and modernity as evidence not only of the most powerful historical causal forces, but also (by extrapolation) of the relative merits of opposed paradigms for knowledge, human agency, the ‘mental and material.’ By least historicised, I refer to the problem that the most influentially opposed interpretations have treated local historical contexts (context dependent factors) as largely irrelevant. Instead of exploring contingent historical circumstances opposing sides of ‘two cultures’ debates envisage the mental and material as a process of either:

Much of the value of recent approaches to landscape archaeology may lie in their concerns not only to ‘go beyond’ received nature-culture dichotomy, but to critically and constructively engage the presuppositions on which such ideological ‘settlements,’ denial of coevalness and partitioning is based. 3 Some Deeper Historical Backgrounds What has happened that has made images (and by images we mean any sign, work of art, inscription, object, picture that acts as a mediation to access something else) the focus of so much passion? [Under what circumstances have] destroying them, erasing them, defacing them…been taken as the ultimate touchstone to prove the validity of ones faith, of one’s science, of one’s acumen, of one’s artistic creativity? To the point where being an iconoclast

(a) pure condensation, beginning in a realm of pure ideas and then acquiring the weight of the materiality and embodiment of the everyday world 14

STEPHANIE KOERNER: THE EMERGENT NOVELTY OF LANDSCAPE IN POET ORATORS’ PERSPECTIVES of objects and social relationships (b) pure evaporation, beginning in the latter and ascending into ideas (cf. Galison 2003).

Indeed, much of the popularity of such terms as ‘the biography of scientific objects’ (Daston 2000), ‘actor network theory’ (Latour 2005) relates to their roles in illuminating extraordinary materials hitherto eclipsed by ‘standard’ accounts. For instance:

Today the situation is undergoing remarkable change. In this section we consider something of the relevance of inquiries into deeper historical backgrounds of the ‘tensions’ listed at the onset for carrying forward hopes that landscape archaeology can help conciliate widespread but context dependent jointly social and ecological problems. To this aim, we focus on materials relating to:

(a) contrary to standard views that scientific styles of reasoning motivated the “realism” of Renaissance art, recent approaches indicate that diverging traditions of realism – centring on Italy and around northwest Europe’s lowlands – came to play central roles in supporting sharply opposed traditional Catholic and Protestant claims to theological truth, (b) contrary to conventional ideas that iconic figures of the Scientific Revolution wanted to undermine religious faith, they were especially concerned to demonstrate the theological relevance of ‘experimental science’ and ‘mathematical mechanical natural philosophy’ (c) contrary to hitherto predominant accounts, ‘crises over representations’ were never only due to limited scientific knowledge. They have recurrently been enmeshed in wider social conflicts over authoritative conceptions of truth, politics, and ethics.

(a) contextual circumstances of the ‘rationalisation of sight’ – at issue with much concern with historical associations of ‘landscape archaeology’ with claims to the capacities of a few (new versions of Platonist, and Aristotelian philosopher kings ) for timeless placeless objectivity (b) roots of landscape archaeology and ‘practice’ approaches to the histories of religion, art, and science in traditions, which have challenged ‘two cultures’ disputes from perspectives offered by poet orators rather than philosopher kings as pedagogical and political ideal. 3.1 The ‘Rationalisation of Sight’ and Problematic ‘Settlements’ of Crises over Representations’

The deeper we delve into these materials, the more apparent the incoherence of ‘standard accounts’ becomes, and the closer we come to insight of deeper historical backgrounds of ‘tensions’ around the concept of ‘landscape.’ In what follows, we consider materials, which indicate how worries about the concept’s history relate to circumstances that concern Latour (2002) in the passage cited above.

A sea of change is taking place in approaches to the histories of religion, the arts, experimental science and natural philosophy. Many new insights bear directly on ‘tensions’ about the history of conceptions of ‘landscape’ and problematic ideologies centring on ‘vision.’ Many abstractions – realism, facts, objectivity, experiment, vision, landscape archaeology and so on – are no longer treated essential substances or states. Despite the variety of approaches involved, there are shared features including remarkable shifts in foci, for instance:

Writing on ‘tensions’ about associations between the idea of ‘landscape’ and political ideologies centring on ‘vision,’ Thomas notes that a crucial problem with notions of ‘landscape’ that dichotomise “visual perception” versus an “external world of extension” is that they are “distinctively modern Western” and “anachronistic when applied to the distant past.” But that is not all. There is a “tension between the distanced visual landscape theorised in Western systems of knowledge and the landscapes that we experience” (Thomas 2008: 302).

(a) from beliefs that we can take such ‘received’ categories as nature, culture, experiment, ritual, evidence, facts, objectivity, universality, reality and so on as ‘givens’ towards concerns with the variety of forms these have taken in different contexts, (b) from assumptions about the authority of intellectual history – the history of largely context independent ideas – towards inquiries into context dependent instantiations of change in instruments, practices, and social relations of representing, intervening, and public persuasion. (c) from long held presuppositions that consensus on cultural meanings and values are determined by some form of necessity, towards questions about how consensus is achieved, ‘crises over representations’ are settled, and ho oftentimes highly contradictory ideals nevertheless endure.

Over the last decades, Latour has developed several approaches to issues Thomas’ observations pose, which (in conjunction with new insights of the complexities of the histories of art, religion and science) have given rise to questions about circumstances of ‘iconoclash.’ In the 1980s, Latour’s inquiries into the importance to the normative roles of science, not just of discovering ‘facts’ but also of the dynamics of ‘representing’ intervening and public persuasion’ (Latour and Woolgar 19789; Hacking 1983) showed that “to arrive at parsimonious explanations it is 15

LANDSCAPE IN MIND ‘rationalisation of sight’ today of sight, for instance, by the ways in which computer technologies “scatter images into data and gather data into images (Galison 2002), genetic chromatography, geological stratigraphy, public questionnaires, etc?

best not to appeal to supposed universal traits” either of nature or of culture, which are “simply too grandiose, not to say hagiographic in most cases and plainly racist in more than a few others” (Latour 1986: 1-2). Crucial is: steering a course that avoids relativism and, by positing a few simple, empirically verifiable causes can account for the enormous differences in effects that everyone knows are real [that is, not ‘mere’ social constructs and, thus, somehow not real]. We need to keep the scale of effects but seek more mundane explanations than, for instance, a great divide of human consciousness” (Latour 1984: 2).

“You doubt of what I say? I’ll show you.” And without moving more than a few inches, I unfold before your eyes figures, diagrams, plates, texts, silhouettes and then and there present things that are far away and with which connections… between supposed immutable are mobilized (Latour 1986: 3, 14). For Latour, in order to understand how practices that ‘rationalised sight’ became invested with extraordinary pedagogical and political authority, it is useful to try to address such context dependent questions as: How was it possible for a few scientists and or engineers to render claims, for instance, that they could master enormous machines, land drainage schemes, governance institutions and so on, that did not yet even exist credible?

Similarly, Peter Galison (1987, 2003), in a number of studies relating to changes that have taken place in the sheer scale of embodied and materially embedded scientific practices, the normative roles of scientific metaphysics (for instance of Einstein and Poincares' principles of time-space relativity and simultaneity), and conceptions of objectivity (for instance, the ways in which contemporary attribution of computer technology based Simulated Reality differs to the ontic and mechanical conceptions of Renaissance and early modern times), stresses the importance of comparative analogical methods for integrating relevant analytic scales. This, not in the senses of weight, size and so on, but in the senses that the metaphorical and the material, emboddied and social are at once inextricable, but also separated (amongst other things) by the very sorts of processes that make historical interpretation possible.

Useful approaches have conventionally been eclipsed in two ways: (a) by granting to the minds of individual scientists extraordinary powers, or (b) with reference to abstract notions of ‘social interests’ arising somehow out of material conditions. What bears stressing, for Latour, is that the aforementioned feat of scientists and engineers remains an anomaly only if we ignore salient dimensions of the practices, instruments and social relationships involved in the ‘rationalisation of sight.’ Techniques of linear perspective (in conjunction with technologies for printing, photography, computer simulations and so on) make it possible to transport, transfer, and combine in things far apart in new ways. These include presenting absent things not only as though they were ‘right here’ but also as though they were predictable and controllable. For instance, discussing industrial drawing, Latour notes that:

Efforts to pursue such a context dependent course show that it is not ‘perception,’ as such, that is at stake with ‘vision’ and ‘visualisation’ but deeper relationships between representational practices, instruments, and struggles over pedagogical and political authority. For Latour (1986) the “rationalisation” that took place with the so-called ‘scientific revolution is not of the mind, of the eye, of philosophy, but of the sight. Against the grain of images that attribute the ‘realism’ of Renaissance art and the ‘rationality’ of science to a dualist relationship between an independent ‘spectator’ and a reality ‘out there,’ Latour inquires into the embodied and materially embedded proliferation of devices (linear perspective, telescopes, microscopes, log books, maps, globes, printed instructions, and so on) that made it possible to “mobilise the supposedly immutables of reality.” These context dependent assemblages instruments, technical instructions, and practices made it possible for artists and scientists to invent objects, with properties of being mobile, presentable, readable and combinable with one another by virtue of their being reducible to what W. M. Ivens (1973) called ‘optical consistency.’ What was so important about the images and inscriptions that map makers, engineers, landscape painters, and so on were producing in the 17th and 18th centuries? What is so important about the further

Realms of reality that seem far apart (mechanics, economics, marketing scientific organisation of work) are inches apart, one flattened out onto the same surface. [Whether on paper or on a super computer for designing structures and their operations] the accumulation of drawing in an optically consistent space is, once again, the same ‘universal exchanger’ that allows work to be planned, dispatched, realised, and responsibility to be allocated (Latour 1986: 25). Latour stresses the contributions to research on these developments of Michel Fouchault’s (1975) account of the complex instruments, objects, practices, social institutions that formed the “panopticum” as early modern pedagogical and political ideal. Indeed, for Latour (as for many researchers working on the interstices of disciplinary divisions based on categories rooted in standard accounts of 16

STEPHANIE KOERNER: THE EMERGENT NOVELTY OF LANDSCAPE IN POET ORATORS’ PERSPECTIVES science and modernity) Foucault’s account marked a turning point in perspectives on ‘disciplinarity.’ Like Foucault, Latour (1986: 26-27) rejects dichotomies between “mentalist and materialist” explanations, and is concerned with questions of power: “how the few may dominate the many.” For instance, relating to our considerations of Hall’s concerns, Latour stresses that Instruments and practice structured around ‘optical consistency’ have played crucial roles amongst devises that ‘deny of the coevalness’ of the ‘West and the Rest’ (Fabian 1993) – including devises for visualising cultural differences as space-time distances.

of proposed ‘new systems.’ Today many themes of Latour’s (1993) work are quite popular, including those of “natureculture hybrids” and his arguments that no society, and especially not ‘western’ ones separate things-in-themselves from phenomena, and truth from power and morality. What his readers are only beginning to grapple with is that themes of ‘we have never been modern’ mark a turning point in approaches to ‘critiques of meta-narratives.’ Something of the implications of this juncture are explored in the exhibitions and volumes entitled Iconoclash and Making Things Public (res = things, publici = publics) (Latour and Weibel eds., respectively, 2002, 2005). Expressed briefly, things on scales of ‘science and modernity’ are hard to study except in terms of likewise metaphysical generalisations like the ‘triumph’ or ‘tragedy of instrumental rationality.’ By contrast, the contextual circumstances, for example, of the contributions of Renaissance artists and scientists of the Enlightenment to the ‘rationalisation of sight’ can be studied empirically. But most importantly, such context dependent approaches as those represented by Stephen Shapin and Simon Schaffer’s study of controversies around Robert Boyle and Thomas Hobbes ‘systems’ (the artifactual nature of Boyle’s laboratory and Hobbes’ artifactual society, the Leviathan) – facilitate more coherent (holist) explanations.

Some might object that all this with ‘vision,’ ‘sight’ and ‘landscape’ is about ‘mere’ metaphors. Yes, but metaphors are as concrete as bricks. They constitute realms that depend upon interpreting (understanding and experiencing) one thing in terms of another – that is what ever it is that we call the ‘common world’ we find intelligible. In traditions that form ‘western culture’ these metaphors have become especially important for interpreting relationships as well as divisions between truth, politics and ethics in terms of knowledge, metaphorically conceived as vision (as in, “I see” “your perspective” “her point of view”). There is nothing ‘mere’ about the embodied and material culture embedded metaphorical processes whereby people turn themselves, activities, material cultures and surrounding ‘landscapes’ into a common world.

It turns out that essential roles were played in processes, which anchored such ‘new systems’ claims to truth to political power and moral, by modes of envisaging contemporary times not as the ‘best of possible worlds’ but as evidence that ‘state of emergency’ (the worst of possible worlds) was the norm for much of contemporary times (even the human condition, in general) as well as that the authority of their proposed ‘systems’ was by necessity. For Lorraine Daston (2006) the simplest ways of describing changes that have been taking place in approaches to ‘science and modernity’ is that what had previously been regarded as self -evident now demanded historical explanation:

Latour’s approach to these topics informed his arguments in We Have Never Been Modern (1993). Together with insights of his colleagues’ into hitherto eclipsed dimensions of the histories of religion, art and science, it led to his involvement in curating exhibitions and editing volumescatalogues that open space for exploring questions about analogies that can be drawn between circumstances of ‘iconoclash,’ which bear directly upon ‘tensions’ in landscape archaeology outlined at the onset of this chapter. One of the difficulties with many hitherto influential ‘critiques of meta-narratives’ (including Foucault’s) has been the tendency to either claim or create the impression that the iconic figures of the so-called Scientific Revolution and Birth of Modernity envisaged the motivations of their ‘new systems’ (to use Galileo’s term) as being the ‘best of all possible worlds’ (in Leibniz’ phrase).’ In consequences many critiques’ have tended to ignore explaining or to employ universalising generalisations to explain how political power and moral authority became anchored to these ‘new systems’ claims to truth.

“What is an experiment? We want our answers to be historical in character [Shapin and Schaffer 1985: 3]. Moreover, the historical explanation in question linked fundamental innovations in science such as the emergence of the experiment as a method of inquiry to coeval political and social events.” Daston 2006: 523). The deeper researchers have delved into political and social events involved in processes that anchored power and moral authority to the ‘new systems’ of the so-called Scientific Revolution, the further they have been driven from pictures of the ‘best of times’ and the more coherent possible explanations have become. Another ways of describing the ‘turning point’ in available approaches is in terms of a shift in foci from ‘crises over representation’ to empirical enquiries into contextual circumstances of supposed ‘settlements’ of struggles over pedagogical and political authority. One of the hypotheses

One path towards context dependent approaches was suggested by Benjamin’s observations on ‘state of emergency’ and modernity, which we noted at the onset. But Benjamin envisaged the ‘state of emergency’ of contemporary times as a consequential ‘ruling principle’ – not as means to legitimise claims to the supposed necessity 17

LANDSCAPE IN MIND that arises, in light of materials bearing upon questions Latour (2002) poses in the passage cited above, is that some of the most problematic aspects of the history of conceptions of ‘landscape’ (at issue with ‘tensions’ around the term today) are enmeshed in the history of supposed ‘settlements’ of ‘crises over representations,’ which have analogues amongst contradictory aspects of globalisation we considered in Part 2. In such a view, much of the ‘tensions’ around the concept of ‘landscape’ may be rooted intuitions of the extent to which is history has been enmeshed in the history of such ‘settlements,’ as well as of:

3.2.1

Alternatives to ‘Two Cultures’ Options

Writing on conditions of possibility for “ways ahead” against the grain of some of the most contradictory dimensions of the modern cosmopolis (cosmos + polis), Stephen Toulmin (1990: 175-203) notes that throughout its highly discontinuous history, ‘western culture’ has given rise to remarkable “pendulum swings” between to very different conceptions of the tasks of philosophy (or theory). In one - that shared by traditions rooted in Parmenidean models of absolute permanence and Heraclitean absolute disunity or flux, philosophy’s task is to “analyse all subjects in wholly general terms,” that is to establish a supposedly context independent stance above and beyond the contingencies of everyday human experience for distinguishing the true from the false, fact from fiction, the authentic from the in-authentic, the one from the many, friend from foe, and so on, in relation to a fundamental equation of the real and the intelligible. Interestingly efforts to realise this task (whether from Platonist –rationalist or from Aristotelian –empiricists perspectives) recurrently eventuates in the emergence of the quite opposite conclusions about conditions of possibility for realising this task, namely, absolute relativism (or scepticism): there are only particulars and we cannot know for certain how or even whether they relate to universal categories proposed, or even less how they relate to one another.

(a) the ‘rationalisation of sight’ and change in predominant conceptions of objectivity’ (Daston and Galison 2005), (b) authoritative images of sources of the uncertainty (ambiguity and ‘state of emergency’) of human knowledge (J.L. Koerner 2004). (c) highly problematic ways of marginalising ‘others’ and legitimating social inequalities, including caricatures of the supposedly lack of ‘objectivity’ of so-called ‘publics’ and ‘the beliefs of others’ (S. Koerner and Wynne 2008). 3.2 Roots of Features Shared by the ‘Practice Turn’ and ‘Relational’ Landscape Two general implications can be drawn from out considerations thus far. One is that the circumstances at issue are neither unique not part of anything like the unilinear continuum around which canonical accounts of science and modernity have been structured. Thus ‘tensions’ around dualist conceptions of landscape can be seen as a welcome sign of evidence of researchers’ critically reflective alertness to challenges facing their fields. Second, and fortunately, the history of western culture has not been restricted to such settlements, or to options offered by ‘two cultures’ debates. There have recurrently emerged very powerful counter foundationalist and relativist traditions, which have envisaged human agency, knowledge and history in terms of very different realms. The realms that concerned, for example, Benjamin (1936, 1940) and many 20th century pragmatists, and are becoming foci of the ‘practice turn’ and landscape archaeology have long concerned major contributors to traditions dating to the very beginnings of ‘two cultures’ debates centering on poet orators as pedagogical and political ideal.

In the other conception, the task of philosophy (or theory) is to develop “as general an account as the nature of the field allows,” that is to develop means to address context dependent problems from perspectives offered by considerations of likewise historically contingent but possibly analogous situations. In what follows, we first consider aspects and implications of the former view (3.2.1) before considering, in the next section (3.2.2) expressions of the latter view amongst features landscape archaeology shared with traditions centring on poet orators rather than Platonist, Aristotelian, and relativist versions of the philosopher king as pedagogical and political ideal. Aristotle’s Metaphysics (1941) has recurrently been envisaged as having provided a framework for realising this task, which has underwritten ‘canonical’ manifestations of ‘two cultures’ debates. The framework departs from the question: “If something can be a science (episteme and/or candidate for scientific objecthood), what is the object of that science (or relevant essence of that object)? It offers three options: (1) Its unchanging aspect, (2) its changing aspect, and (3) the interaction of changing and unchanging aspects? The crucial option, on both sides of ‘two cultures’ is (1), and the others are reducible to it. Thus, for rationalists (or foundationalists, like Plato) candidates for scientific objecthood must exhibit regularities, which are universal and demonstrable by chain of necessary causes. Their regularities must specify both what is the case

A detailed exposition of these traditions lies beyond our chapter’s scope. Instead our considerations centre around comparing features of approaches to these realms, which highlight landscape archaeology’s relevance for democratic approaches to jointly social and ecological problems.

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STEPHANIE KOERNER: THE EMERGENT NOVELTY OF LANDSCAPE IN POET ORATORS’ PERSPECTIVES (sufficient conditions) and what must be the case (by necessity) (cf. Daston, 2000). For empiricists (or probabalists, like Aristotle), things that are ‘always or for the most part’ can satisfy requirements of a science (Metaphysics, 1027a20-27) if they can be described in the terms of a universally valid classification and treated as particular (probable) instantiations of essential properties. And, in both views there is the more or less explicit assumption that a satisfactory episteme must also provide an account of why we fail to perceive such supposedly timeless truths, and/or connections between particular instantiations and essential states directly. Relativism recurrently departs from implications of such accounts and the absolute Heraclitean flux side of their dualist ontologies, with consequences for their generating likewise universalising meta-narratives about obstacles to intelligibility in a universe determined wholly by chance.

Cultural constructionists are opposed to what they believe realists mean by scientific discoveries. They often cite literature that stresses the historical contingency of science. But constructions distance themselves from questions, for instance, about the importance of these inquiries for critical reflection upon changes taking place in science, for instance, in scale, normative roles, and conceptions of objectivity that we consider shortly. Constructivists do stress contingency. But the value of this emphasis is diminished by the ways in which (as our considerations earlier of Hall’s observations on contradictory trends traversing the dynamics of pedagogical institutions and public affairs) constructivists’s reducing all things to ‘social constructions’ and then treating these as somehow not real (in paradoxical accord with Platonist and Aristotelian prohibition of contingent things from the domain of an ‘episteme’) results in an an alternative ‘meta-narrative – one with serious consequences for eclipsing, especially, the ‘alternative voices’ of those most subject to the deepening inequalities of ‘globalisation.’

Today’s versions of this might be summarised as follows. While rationalist depart from abstract principles and empiricists depart from observations, both versions of scientific realism envisage:

Elimination (or eliminativism) is standard expressions for talking about the analytic philosophical traditions’ realist theories about knowledge, explanation (Dennett 1978; Rey 1988; Churchland and Churchland). But they also centre very much on claims to obstacles to knowledge. And despite claims relativists make about challenging reductionism, not only does relativism often lead to alternative metanarratives; its eliminativism plays important roles in the process. What bears underscoring is that, in both realist and constructionist views, everyday peoples’ common-sense understandings of the mind are false (or folk psychology) and the entities they believe to compose these (such as the soul, beliefs, desires, and so on) – and especially fundamental disagreements on claims to truth - are reducible to more fundamental substances. Much opposition between realism and constructivist frameworks revolves around their eliminative positions on what they take to be their opponents most cherished beliefs (Latour 2004). So, realists are eliminative about constructionists’ topics, arguing that these are reducible to principles of brain science, biology, social interests, and so on. And constructionists are eliminative about realists’ categories (for instance, ‘nature’ and society,’ claiming not only that these are historical but also that they are somehow not real. Yet, as is often the case where paradigms that initially engendered “crises over representations” become part of normative arrangements, today’s influentially opposed programmes share salient features. Daston explains that, in much of the debate,

… scientific objects as discoveries of unexplored territory waiting to be mapped. Scientific objects may, like dark objects as invisible planets, take centuries of theoretical and empirical effort to find, or to be accessible only by means of the most powerful instruments, but in their essence they are as enduring as the…solid, obvious, sharply outlined, in-the-way things of quotidian experience: the walls that obstruct, the rain that falls, the projectile that hits, the stone that stubs…. In contrast to quotidian objects, scientific objects are hard-won (Daston 2000: 2). Both cultural relativists (despite claims to the contrary) and foundationalists treat ‘reduction and elimination’ as means, respectively, either to ‘access’ or ‘deconstruct’ these objects. In strongly realist programmes, reduction refers to (a) an approach to understanding the nature of complex things by reducing them to the interactions of their parts, or to simpler or more fundamental things and (b) a philosophical position that a complex system is reducible to the sum of its parts (whether these systems are composed of objects, phenomena, explanations, theories, beliefs, desires or meanings) (Hempel and Oppenheim 1948; Popper [1959] 2002). Emphasis falls upon causal explanation, and the importance of discovering causal mechanisms that satisfy requirements of reductions: methodological, that the ideal strategy is to reduce things studied to the smallest number (often also size), theoretical, that all theories can or should be absorbed into a unified theory, and ontological, that reality is treated as composed of a minimal number of kinds of entities (or substances) - with monists centring on a single substance and dualists believing that everything is reducible to two – such as nature and society (convention).

The opposition between nature and culture shadows that between the real and the constructed, nature stands as the eternal, the inexorable, the universal; culture for the variable, the malleable, and the particular. Like the return of the represses, the supra- and sub-lunary 19

LANDSCAPE IN MIND spheres of Aristotelian cosmology crop up in a new guise, crystalline nature encircling mutable culture. Both sides of the debate accept the oppositions of the real versus the constructed, the natural versus the constructed. Hence arguments are about which of these two categories notions like ‘race’ or ‘quark’ belong – are they real or are they constructed? Discoveries or inventions? – not about the categories themselves (Daston 2000: 3).

(c) considerable obstacles are posed for democracy by equations of consensus = intelligibility, disagreement = mutual incommensurability, and associated disregard the rationality and logic of plurality of public grounds of truth. But all this has recurrently been obscured under circumstances where disputes over the aforementioned ‘two cultures’ have helped to make it possible to ‘settle’ ‘crises over representations’ along lines we have been exploring. Readers may complain: Do we have to go back to the Greeks? (Latour 1999). One response may be that without so doing it may be difficult to appreciate the relevance of such ‘settlements’ for fresh perspectives on ‘tensions’ around dualist characterisations of ‘landscape.’ Another is that such inquiries can bring light to roots of several especially promising features of landscape archaeology, in ways that bear very directly upon current arguments concerning the relevance of a pluralist dialogical ethics for efforts to address contemporary social and ecological problems from perspectives this area of specialisation offers. In what follows we first contextualise these features in relation to wider patterns, summarised by the ‘practice turn’ and then compare them with recurrent concerns of traditions that have offered alternatives to ‘two cultures’ debates.

Further, much ‘two cultures’ debate is shadowed not only by shared tendencies to eclipse the historiality of the real – constructed dichotomy, but also by their very formidable shared dualist characterisations of what is agreed upon and mutually intelligible versus disagreement and mutual unintelligibility. The consequences are ‘purely academic,’ but include the highly problematic roles, mentioned above, played by interpretations of cultural relativist and/or postmodern terms in reductions of fundamental differences amongst experiences of, for instance, of ‘globalisation’ (due to exploitation of social inequalities) to supposedly mutually unintelligible ‘world views.’ 3.2.2 Features Shared by the ‘Practice Turn,’ ‘Relational’ Landscape Archaeology and Traditions that have Emerged Against the Grain of ‘Two Cultures’ Disputes

3.2.2.1 Shared Features of Landscape Archaeology and the ‘Practice Turn’

If there are central themes to this chapter, one is that the history of western culture has not been restricted to such ‘settlements’. There have always been alternative traditions, rooted in pre-Socratic philosophy and formalised by Cicero, early Renaissance humanists, Giambattista Vico (Horace1928; Cicero 1942; Vico [1744] 1948), as well as by contributors to 20th century ‘pragmatist’ philosophy (Dewey 1925, 1927, 1934; Brandom; Bohman 2002), the ‘practice turn’ in contemporary theory, and socially oriented landscape archaeology. Emphasis in these traditions recurrent falls upon such themes as:

Several themes around which the ‘practice turn’ has become structured have opened space in the humanities and social sciences conducive for the emergence of more “socially oriented landscape archaeologies. In light of the range of topics in the volume, The Practice Turn in Contemporary Theory (Schatzki et al 2001) these themes might be summarised roughly as including: (a) The philosophical and social scientific significance of human activities. Practice theorists seek to develop alternatives to paradigms structured around dualist characterisations of the individual versus social structures, the mental or the material, nature –culture, and so on. Emphasis often falls upon developing approaches to human activities, which stress the embodied and materially embedded nature of means whereby human communities distinguish themselves from outsiders, and interact amongst themselves (Barnes 2001).

(a) the historical contingency of environmental precariousness and the social causes of vulnerability show that there no context independent problems (“We never experience or form judgements about objects and events in isolation, but only in connection with a contextualised whole. This latter is called a situation” [Dewey 1938: 66-67]), (b) emergent novelty is normal for reality and crucial for understanding how human beings find the world intelligible, learning from experience and realise aspirations for the future (“To trust that a thing that we know is real is to feel that it has the independence and power for manifesting itself in yet un-thought of ways in the future” (Polanyi 1964: 45).

(b) Language, science, power, and the organisation, reproduction and transformation of social life. Practice theorists reject assumptions that particular cases are of no general significance, emphasizing that ‘lateral generalisations’ or analogies between instantiations can address problems perpetuates by dichotomies of micro- and macro- analytic scales (and associated teleological explanatory constructs) by comparing different ways in 20

STEPHANIE KOERNER: THE EMERGENT NOVELTY OF LANDSCAPE IN POET ORATORS’ PERSPECTIVES which fields of practice are anchored to one another, as well as to some emergent sense of ‘public grounds of truth’.

landscape archaeology” (Layton and Ucko 1999: 3). By contrast, the approaches to the “five broad, overlapping issues” that Ashmore (2004) identifies as distinguishing a number of recent “relational social archaeologies of landscape” compare closely with those outlined above of the ‘practice turn.’ We might, in their lights, group these as follows:

(c) The nature of subjectivity, embodiment, rationality and normativity. Practice theorists reject presuppositions that consensus – the normativity of the meanings and values of activities, instruments and agencies - is given by some form of necessity. The relevant question is not whether meanings are determined by ‘collective representations’ or ‘epiphenomenal’ by product of supposedly more ‘real’ (i.e., forces of changeless change like population growth, climate, genetics). The crucial question is how consensus is achieved and endured despite extraordinary variety of context dependent transformations. An important corollary of this is that practice theorists are required to account reflectively for their own coming into being and transformation.

(a) (b) (c)

A strong sense of ‘reflectivity’ permeates arguments for integrating such themes around what Thomas (2004) refers to as a “pluralist dialogical ethics.”

Wendy Ashmore’s article on “Social Archaeologies of Landscape” (2004) indicates that there a number of correlates of these themes in this emergent area of specialisation. Much of her article concerns how “social archaeologies of landscape” differ to those structured by ‘two cultures’ disputes. It devotes considerable attention to contrasts between ‘processual and post-processual’ paradigms for archaeological methods and theory (a – d below) and between hitherto influential approaches to landscape archaeology (Layton and Ucko 1999: 2-4). (a) (b) (c) (d)

Archaelogy investigates the past through the medium of material things…. Yet it increasingly clear that we do not simply reconstruct the way that things were. Instead we establish a relationship between the past and the present. This relationship can be conceived as a kind of conversation [dialogue], to which we bring a variety of expectations and prejudices, and from which we receive challenges and surprises [Gadamer 1975: 236]. The past never fully reveals itself to us, but through our continued engagement we learn more, both about past worlds and about ourselves…. Considered in this way, the perceived distance between the past and the present is not so much a barrier to understanding as a productive space [Gadamer 1975: 264] (Thomas 2004: 1).

objects or domains of analysis. methods for causally explaining or interpreting and understanding (a). researcher’s relation to (a) and (b). relations between contents of (a), (b) and (c) and socio-historical contexts (S Koerner 2007).

For Thomas, key challenges involved can be addressed by abandoning approaches that set up a polarity between “the West and the rest” and then nullify any difference that does not conform to its preconceptions. Approaches, which stress interpretive analogies involving relations between three rather than two contexts help address the problem:

Some implications of these patterns might be summarised as follows: (a)

(b)

(c)

“relating nature, culture and society,” “time and history,” “social and spatial scale,” “meaning and its attachment,” “alternative voices.”

Processual approaches that draw principles from 20th century analytic philosophical traditions (logical positivism and logical empiricism) tend to centre on (a) and (b), and inform approaches that “equate landscape archaeology with an environment that has an existence independent of those who live in it” (Layton and Ucko 1999: 2). Post-processual approaches that draw principles from sociologies of knowledge and cultural geographies tend to centre on (d), and inform emphases on the roles of pictorial representations (maps, landscape archaeology paintings, etc.) in legitimating social inequality (Daniels and Cosgrove eds. 1988). Post-processual approaches that draw upon ‘continental philosophies’ tend to focus on (c) and inform arguments “there is no environment, only

… a context within which we archaeologists work; the temporal other of the past; and the ethnographic or spatial other [or the analogue]. With its emphasis on dispassionate observation, processual tended to occlude the first of these contexts, rendering the archaeologists perspective a “view from nowhere.” From a interpretive point of view, the triangulations between contexts becomes quite complex, because much of the point of analysis lies not in demonstrating that the sources and subject contexts are commensurate but that aspects of both are distinct from our everyday modern experience (Thomas 2004: 241) . For Thomas, (2004: 1) appreciation of such differences opens space for what Ashmore calls “alternative voices” and

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LANDSCAPE IN MIND especially the sort of “pluralist dialogical ethics” that can facilitates reflectivity.

means to carry forward alternative aspirations. In expressions of these traditions represented by works on “arts of memory” by Horace, Cicero and by Giambattista Vico ([1744] 1948), key themes include:

A pluralist dialogical ethics would recognize that different points of view need not be reduced to one another for them to be productive…. Without demanding that different regional and national traditions give up their distinctive character, an increased dialogue between…communities would maximise the potential for putting [archaeological] ideas into unfamiliar context, revealing unexpected strengths and weaknesses (Thomas 2004: 242-243).

(a) emergent novelty and imagination (b) embodied, social, and materially embedded metaphorical (interpretive) practices (c) reflexivity and the creation and transformation of ethical judgments. To the best of my knowledge, the first ‘early modern’ scholar to focus on relevance these themes’ bearing upon problems anachronistic generalisations about the human origins, knowledge and history pose was Giambattista Vico (16681744), in his New Science of the Common Nature of the Nations (third edition, [1744] 1948, henceforth, NS). His work was motivated not only by contemporary ‘crises over representations’ but concerns with how supposed ‘settlements’ of struggles over power related to the ways in which abstract philosophy (modelled on physical science) was severed from the humanities (in particular, fields that we are likely too refer to today as socio-cultural anthropology and archaeology. One of his ‘new science’s’ motivations is to challenge the anachronistic generalisations about the histories of nature and of culture that legitimated contradictory contemporary claims to pedagogical and political authority.

3.2.2.1 ‘Public Grounds of Truth’ and Other Themes of Traditions that Have Challenged the Philosopher King as Pedagogical and Political Ideal Thomas’ notion of a pluralist dialogical ethics is not reducible to categories around which ‘two cultures’ disputes are structured. They are rooted in realms, which have recurrently been eclipsed by both foundationalists and relativists conceptions of the requirements of a ‘science’ (episteme), and associated equations of consensus = intelligible, and disagreement = mutual un-intelligible. These are the realms mentioned at the onset of this chapter, which major contributors to traditions structured around poet orators rather than the philosopher king as pedagogical and political ideal have referred to with the expression plurality of ‘public grounds of truth’ (publici motive del veri), These realms,

For Vico, means to address the problem this question hinged upon a novel restatement of preconditions of a “science of humanity (NS/43-360) together with what he called "discovery” that the earliest forms of human symbolic thought and communication were highly metaphorical, mythological, and dependent on images generated by sensory experiences encoded by the imagination (imaginatio, ingenium) (NS/361778).

(a) Are not structured around supposedly ‘changeless things’ – supposedly waiting to be mapped. Their apprehension hinges upon appreciation that emergent novelty is normal for reality, and manifest in the means whereby imagination and creativity find the world intelligible, and gives rise to diversity of human life ways. They are created, not according to standardised rules, the ‘aura’ of authoritative cosmologies, but through emergent embodied and materially embedded poetic (metaphorical interpretive) practices (b) Are not sustained by context independent categories (of an episteme) or DNA genotype replication, but by techniques and ethics. We are mutually susceptible, accountable intentional and imaginative creatures that learn by metaphorically interpreting context dependent experiences together. (c) Are not transformed by separating reality from social constructions, but by “new and everchanging social creations” (de Beauvoir 1949: 120, 15). These include creations that facilitate reflection on causes of discrepancies between predominate social ideals and everyday life (or what Lazzari 2008 calls “ethical judgments”) and

(a) "Philosophy undertakes to examine philology" on the basis of the verum et factum convertuntur principle (NS/7, 331). By this he meant that the condition of being able to understand something, as opposed to perceiving it, is that knowers themselves made it. Since human communities, for Vico, created history their understanding of its dynamics satisfied this requirement. (b) Scientific "doctrines must take their beginnings from that of the matters which they treat" (NS/314). Here Vico meant that we cannot understand the plurality of human life ways by starting somewhere in the middle – say with the question of how the supposedly given mind ‘in there’ relates to a given world ‘out there’ – and then postulate some abstract connection’s ‘functions’. We need to focus on how human reality came into being in the first place.

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STEPHANIE KOERNER: THE EMERGENT NOVELTY OF LANDSCAPE IN POET ORATORS’ PERSPECTIVES What would be lost, Vico said, without such a science would be, amongst other things, understanding human beings are able to reflect upon discrepancies between is and ought, and to bring about major historical change. The paradigmexemplar of his “discovery” about the emergence of the earliest “concrete metaphor” (“publici motive del veri” and “sensus communis” = common sense) was the sky (Jove) “whose thunder and lightning crystallized in minds not yet human the idea that the sky is a giant body animated with forms of intentionality,” which the primi uomini (earliest humans) did not know that yet they themselves possessed. For Vico, this ‘concrete metaphor’ illustrated key principles of his ‘new science.’

So that, as rational metaphysics teaches us that man becomes all things by understanding them (homo intelligendo fit omnia), this imaginative metaphysics shows that man becomes all things by not understanding them (homo non intelligendo fit omnia); and perhaps the latter proposition is truer than the former, for when man understands he extends his mind and takes in the things, but when he does not understand he makes the things out of himself and becomes them by transforming himself into them (NS/405; italics mine) For these reasons, Vico says, the first human “deeds” involved metaphorically interpreting relations between the sky and their surroundings such as by:

For Vico, “Jove” showed the importance of the imagination to the emergence of metaphorical interpretation of the contingencies of reality. As Vico put it, it is "[b]ecause of the indefinite nature if the human mind, wherever it is lost in ignorance man makes himself the measure of all things" (NS/120) and “whenever men can form no idea of distant and unknown things, they judge them by what is familiar and at hand" (NS/122). He believed that analogous processed resulted in the "conceit of nations" ("a nation's belief that it, before all other nations, invented the comforts of human life and that its remembered history goes back to the very beginning of the world") and the "conceit of scholars, who will have it that what they know is as old as the world" (NS/ 127).

clearing primeval forest with fire, … taking care of tools such as the plow...for bringing the first lands of the world under cultivation,…building wells and irrigation canals so that humanity could use the water of perennial springs... and settle for a long time in one place,… [and] constructing of altars that offered asylum to those seeking safety and served as… foundations of the first cities… [This] is why cities were called arae throughout the ancient world" (NS/14-17). Like many of his predecessors, Vico was concerned to identify variability amongst forms that metaphorical interpretive practices have taken. Core variations include: metaphor - from one thing to something similar, metonymy - from cause to effect or visa versa synecdoche - from whole to parts irony - from one thing to its opposite.

It also showed the importance of focusing on human beings’ sociability for understanding the historical significance of metaphorical practices. For Vico (N/S 2) human beings were not 'solitaires' living together radically apart from, and even against, each other, but creatures "whose nature has this principle property: that of being social” and of living in “communities” (Vico N/S 2). Their collectivities have been forged, not by nature or through knowledge of a timeless of a reality above and beyond the contingencies of everyday experience (that they did not create themselves), but through poesis (creation) of shared conceptions of ‘we’ and of the landscapes they lived in together. In Vico, the "imagination is the eye of ingenium" (NS/303). It "found" the objects the primi uomini used to metaphorically express a social landscape occupied together (a precondition not only for that human communities have durations, but also for discrepant experiences) (NS/300-301, 424). The emergence of "experiences of analogies” between things far apart and, which would seem most dissimilar, resulted in the “brilliant forms” taken by “ancient poetic wisdom." Vico expressed this terms bearing directly upon some of the most complex dimensions of the themes, which Ashmore highlights and have long concerned Thomas (2008), Clive Gamble (2008), Tim Ingold (for instance, 2000) and other contributors to ‘social archaeologies of landscape’:

For our present purposes, it bears mentioning that much of the unfortunate notion of ‘mere’ metaphor is enmeshed in dualist characterisations of truth (conceived as concerning changeless things) versus politics and morality (conceived as governed by the contingencies of ‘mere opinion’). Ever since Aristotle (1984) claimed that about things that are contingent there can be no ‘episteme,’ rationalists, empiricists, as well as relativists have recurrently assumed that metaphorical practices lack rationality and logic (a presupposition that Aristotle may have disagreed with). These are presuppositions called into question not only by Vico and the traditions he drew insights from, but also by Ludwig Wittgenstein’s (1958) conception of meaning arising through use, Benjamin (1940), Latour (1986, 1993, 2002), the ‘practice turn, 20th century ‘pragmatist’ philosophy (Dewey 1925, 1936; Brandom 1996), a number of ‘social archaeologies of landscape’ (Ingold 2000; Gamble 2008). Metaphorical practice is rational in the relational sense that you and I are mutually susceptible, accountable, intentional creatures who logically transform our knowing how into knowing that by making our implicit metaphorical understandings variously explicit to one another.

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LANDSCAPE IN MIND For Vico, especially salient dimensions of these practices include:

(a) presupposes consciousness of distinctions between true and false, (b) makes deception and self deception possible, including about equations of intelligibility with consensus, and mutual unintelligibility with disagreement, (c) can facilitate reflexive awareness of the scope and limits of ideological hegemony, and motivate means not only for resistance, but for changing the circumstances that allow hegemony to arise.

invention - finding appropriate metaphors dispositi - arranging them elocution – creating means to express this arrangement memoria - memorising pronuncia – communicating The significance of these practices was not, in Vico’s judgement, an exclusively an intellectual matter, but an important social ("civic") issue; in the absence of a satisfactory ‘science of humanity’ at risk was an intellectual culture was alienated from human affairs. Vico view was not unique in traditions that stressed the poet orators as pedagogical ideal. Cicero’s (De Oratore 1942, II, lxxxvi: 351-354; Yates 1966: 1-26; Carruthers 1990) description of a legend about how the poet orator, Simonides of Ceos, invented the ‘arts of memory’ figures amongst the most famous example. he legend recounts Simonides having been commissioned to present a lyric poem at a celebration given by Scopas, a noble of Thessaly. Simonides’ oration praises not only his patron but also the twin gods, Cator and Pollux. Scopas is angered and says that he will only pay half. Simonides is called outside to meet to travelers outside, but he finds no one. On his return he finds that the hall roof has collapsed crushing all beyond identification. Now Simonides – the only survivor – is summoned to chant a memorial for the event. How was he able to do this? The answer the legend provides is that Simonides walked through the architectural remains and, using these as mnemonic, performed the oration he did at the ill-fated banquet again – but now with diversions to the names and honours of the people lost in the event by their living families and neighbours.

Another key theme in Vico’s ‘new science’ is how “concrete ironic metaphors” enabled marginalised communities to recognize that a critical barrier to their democratic participation in conflict conciliation are ideologies, which elites both truly believe in and use to their own advantage. Initially, this enabled them to create counter-ideologies and realms of social life that resist hegemonic politics and exploitation. But importantly, since hegemonic politics are self-contradictory and unjust, counter-ideologies are of limited use for going against the grain of hegemonic claims about acting by necessity for the ‘common good’. For Vico, ‘concrete ironic metaphors’ made it possible for communities to realise this was their greatest obstacle to achieving equality, and to seek to be recognised as human being with human rights (NS/ 916-918, 925-927). Importantly these metaphorical practices formed space for engaging matters of social and moral accountability and realising hopes for the future without making claims to supposed timeless pedagogical authority and political sovereignty. But this does not diminish their socio-historical significance. Rather, on the one hand it means (to use terms developed by Edmund Husserl 1936), that:

For Cicero, the legend illustrated the key formal dimensions of the arts of memory, namely: (a) a sequential framework and structural conventions, and (b) elements of dialogue and explanation. The former are structured around combinations of the above mentioned different types of tropes (metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche, irony) and the later are structured around practices (invention , dispositi, elocution, memoria, pronuncia). It also showed how concrete things and places (loci) act as images in the recollection of words, people, places and events, and in the very constitution of history and a common world (sensus communis).

(a) metaphorical interpretations of single events, discrepant experiences, ethical acts can 'irradiate' other fields of human experience with paradigmatic quality (b) they can render explicit experiences of discrepancies between how things are and ought to be on the very scales on which human meanings and values are generated (c) insofar as they attest the existence of an ethical field, local ethical acts can transform life-worlds. But on the other hand, all solutions are embedded in “temporality” (to use Ingold’s 2000 term). Each historically contingent community must address its context dependent problems anew under changing circumstances.

In Vico’s “new science” such legends have direct bearing upon questions of how humans come to be able to reflect critically and constructively upon discrepancies between is and ought, and to bring about major historical change. Expressed in terms we used earlier, how are we able to ask and practically address questions like: Where are we going? Is this desirable? Who can we trust? What can be done? In Cicero and Vico’s approaches, the key metaphor for such reflexivity is irony, Irony:

4 Re-assembling Truth, Politics and Morality Until rather recently, very few landscape archaeology archaeologists are likely to have been receptive to suggestions that approaches they are developing bear very directly upon 24

STEPHANIE KOERNER: THE EMERGENT NOVELTY OF LANDSCAPE IN POET ORATORS’ PERSPECTIVES such challenges facing techno-science policy makers as those of:

(c) the primary risk, even for the most technically intense activities (indeed perhaps most especially for them) is therefore that of social dependency upon institutions and caters to who may be - and arguably are increasingly - alien, obscure and inaccessible to most people affected by the risks in question (Beck 1992; Felt and Wynne eds. 2007; Koerner and Wynne 2009).

(a) sustainable development under pressures of climate change, techno-science (nuclear, chemical biological) hazard, and of the problematic ethics and politics motivating much competition between powerful agencies of today’s ‘global knowledge-based’ political economies (b) developing fresh perspectives on consequences of the narrow ways in which many local, national and international expert science and technology policy advisory agencies frame ‘public issues’ (c) creating space for greater rational, logical and democratic public participation in such ‘upstream’ policy processes as deliberating commitments to social ends and accountabilities (Koerner and Wynne 2009).

Another has been the practical effectiveness and democratising outcomes of projects to “protect cultural and natural heritage” (UNESCO 1972), which have been motivated by reflective awareness of the embeddedness of controversies over ‘heritage issues’ in deepening inequalities with regards to exposure to ecological hazard, unsustainable development and political conflict, including grave human rights violations. Few projects illustrate more clearly the relevance to issues posed by these conditions of landscape archaeologies structured around themes we have been considering than that pursued by James Wescoat

I need to be careful here not to be misunderstood. Major contributors to recent approaches have long stressed the relevance of deeper historical perspectives for addressing contemporary environmental problems. Carole Crumley (1993) introduced the term ‘historical ecology’ and explained:

4.1 Planting Trees, Conserving Cultural Heritage and Water, Conciliating Social Conflict

The practice of globally relevant , ethnohistory, ethnography and related disciplines can be termed historical ecology.... Historical ecology traces the ongoing dialectical relations between human acts and acts of nature, made manifest in the landscape archaeology.... Past and present human use of the earth must be understood in order to frame effective environmental policies for the future; this necessitates deft integration of both environmental and cultural information at a variety of temporal and spatial scales.... Collectively, ethnography, ethnohistory,...history, geography and environmental sciences...offer the multifaceted laboratory for historical ecology (Crumley 1993:9).

Few projects illustrate more clearly the relevance to issues posed by these conditions of landscape archaeologies structured around themes we have been considering than that designed by James Wescoat at the newly designated World Heritage Site of Champaner-Pavagodh in north-west India. The project shows that landscape archaeology can offer an entirely new approach to heritage, one which “effectively integrates curated objects, protected places, living traditions, and collective memory” by: (a) exploring not only monuments and sites but the region’s rich topographic sense of place, (b) emphasising the plurality of temporalities shaping human-environmental relationships (cf. Ingold 2008), especially by encompassing multiple geographical and social scales of historical layers (c) expressing diverse people – place connections (Wescoat 2007).

But the widening gaps mentioned at the onset between new versions of ‘two cultures’ (between the normative status of ‘framework relativist’ paradigms in the humanities and social sciences, and extraordinary unities forged by changes in the scales, normative roles and conceptions of the objectivity of science) have posed serious obstacles to appreciating landscape archaeology’s relevance for fresh approaches to the above listed “jointly social and environmental problems” (Westcoat 2007).

Wescoat (2007) begins his chapter with a passage from Rajamon Gandi’s Revenge and Reconciliation: Understanding South Asian History (1999: 410): “A word finally, on Delhi…. Can Delhi’s accumulated offences be washed away? ... Every caring act – of fellowship, considerateness, nursing, apology, forgiveness, greening, or flowering – perhaps heals something of Delhi’s torment...and…speaks to all of South Asia.” Wescoat rejects dualist characterisations of ecological versus social problems, risk versus ethical issues, expert knowledge versus public concerns, and claims to truth versus politics and ethics. It highlights the plurality of conflicting conceptions of the social ends and accountabilities at stake at Champaner-

Today we may be seeing changes taking place in the situation around a number of complex developments. One is increased awareness on the part of policy makers that: (a) physical risks are always created and affected in social systems. (b) the magnitude of the physical risks is therefore a direct function of the quality of social relations and ecological processes. 25

LANDSCAPE IN MIND Pavagodh. Whilst he lists the range of these conflicts from the least to the most tractable at the beginning of the chapter, he later lists possible contexts for conciliation in the reverse order:

5 Landscape and Plurality of Aspirations Dualisms are distinctions whose components are conceived in terms that make their characteristic relations to one another unintelligible (Brandom, Making It Explicit. Reasoning, Representing and Discursive Commitment, 2004, 615).

(a) conflict amongst professional agencies (or “experts”) (b) conflict resolution amongst community stakeholders (c) harmonisation of heritage conservation and economic interests (d) prevention of intentional destruction (e) places of violence and sanctuary, as heritage.

A large portion of this chapter has been devoted to considering the relevance of inquiries into deeper historical backgrounds of the ‘tensions’ listed at the onset for carrying forward hopes that landscape archaeology can help with addressing some of today’s pressing social and ecological problems. To these aims, in Part 2, we attempted to contextualise these ‘tensions.’ Emphasis fell on contradictory trends of ‘globalisation’ and ‘risk society’ that might help to illuminate challenges facing, especially, landscape archaeologists who are engaged in struggles both with ‘two cultures’ debates, and pressures of situations where controversies over ‘heritage’ are embedded in inequalities with regards to ecological hazard, unsustainable development and political conflict. Amongst these challenges, the most difficult posed are not the ‘crises over representations’ that preoccupy ‘two cultures’ debates, but supposed ‘settlements’ that hinge upon presuppositions rooted in the long but highly fragmented histories of:

Wescoat’s approach to the relevance of these conflicts for successful cultural and natural heritage conservation compares in many ways with the pragmatist approach to social and environmental problems developed by John Dewey. An especially central feature of Wescoat’s approach is its emphasis on the importance to the success of cultural and natural heritage conservation projects of upstream participation on the part of publics with very diverse cultural backgrounds and social experiences in deliberating projects wider social ends. This emphasis compares closely with arguments Dewey developed in The Public and Its Problems (1927). The most immediate occasion of Dewey’s work was Walter Lippman’s question: What is the public? (The Phantom Public, 1925). According to Lippman, citizenship hinges upon public understanding of science and if citizens continue to fail to understand science there will be no basis for the foundations of a representative regime – that is a democracy. For Lippman, the government should adopt two policies: (a) seek advice on policy of scientific expertise; and (b) use “psychological” and “level of education” data on “ordinary citizens” to educate and convince them about the benefits of policy decisions being implemented.

(a) the ‘rationalisation of sight’ and change in predominant conceptions of objectivity’ (Daston and Galison 2005), (b) authoritative images of sources of the uncertainty (ambiguity and ‘state of emergency’) of human knowledge (J.L. Koerner 2004). (c) highly problematic ways of marginalising ‘others’ and legitimating social inequalities, including caricatures of the supposedly lack of ‘objectivity’ of so-called ‘publics’ and ‘the beliefs of others’ (S. Koerner and Wynne 2008).

Dewey disagreed with Lippman. For Dewey (1927), the public are not irrational or ignorant but “eclipsed,” and the challenge of the “public and its problems” is to make it possible for new “public relationships to emerge.” For Dewey, publics are invisible to policy makers because the latter are unable to place themselves into the frame of questioning in interaction with others. It is impossible for us to genuinely hear what anyone is saying, if we are impose our own projections onto our supposed “listening” relationships. So, while the correct notes may be played, the music somehow fails to appear, and it does not take specialist musicians to notice the difference (cf. Wynne 2002). Similarly, much of the efficacy of Wescoat’s project depends on how the pluralist dialogical ethics of a pragmatist approach enables us to place ourselves in the frame of critical and constructive reflection. For Wescoat, not just experts but everyone involved in the situation can work as a designer of heritage and ecological conservations’ social ends and accountabilities.

In Part 3 we explored something the deeper historical backgrounds of ‘tensions’ outlined at the onset. The section was divided between considerations of materials relating to: (c) contextual circumstances of associations between processes summarised by the expression the ‘rationalisation of sight’ (Latour 1986) with the emergence (paradoxically) of new versions of claims to timeless placeless objectivity under circumstances summarised by Latour’s expression (2002) “iconoclash”. (d) roots that features of landscape archaeology share with traditions that have challenged ‘settlements’ around claims to the necessity of the philosopher king as pedagogical and political ideal.

26

STEPHANIE KOERNER: THE EMERGENT NOVELTY OF LANDSCAPE IN POET ORATORS’ PERSPECTIVES The motivations of our efforts to bring these trajectories together are not arbitrary. Their historical relationships bear very directly upon challenges facing landscape archaeology under circumstances outline in Part 2. Landscape archaeologists concerns to integrate approaches to themes of “nature and culture, time and history, social and spatial scale, meaning and its attachment, and alternative voices” have analogies in contemporary political philosophy and theory. Integrating “deliberative democracy” (Benhabib ed. 1996; Bohman 2003; Habermas 2003) is now a central theme in these fields. Deliberative democracy defends an ideal of equality as political efficacy (Bohman 2003: 85). This ideal hinges precisely upon equal valuation of highly discrepant perspectives on what counts as crucial matters of public concern, on what human beings can aspire to, and in what sort of world. However, in views of many powerful global elites, ‘difference’ (‘ethnic, linguistic, religious, cultural) is antithetical (even the primary obstacle) is a defect – an obstacle to universalisation of democracy through instrumental use of science as means to put the future at the service of the present (Bernstein 1996). For some, the most useful means to critically engage such views lie in new cosmopolitan treatments of disagreements as ‘incommensurate conceptual schemes’, ‘world views’ even ‘alternative realities’.

suggests, “be one of the most significant endeavours of contemporary archaeology.” It may help to address challenges that despite “two cultures” debates claims to the contrary): A ‘common world’ not being something that we come to recognise, as though it had always been here (and we now come to nice it). A common world, if there is going to be one, is something we have to build tooth and nail together (Latour 2004: 455).

Acknowldgements Greatest appreciation to Giorgio Dimitridas for being such a good friend and colleague.

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One problem with this idea is how it impedes developing effective democratic means to address social conflict and existential problems, which do not hinge upon unreasonable expectations of consensus (Bohman 2003). The idea remains a part ‘two cultures’ disputes, structured around dualist characterisations of consensus and intelligibility versus difference (and, especially disagreement) and mutual unintelligibility, which eclipse the democratising value of “neither fearing the absences of consensus… nor harboring the fantasy that conflictive situations may ever achieve a final equilibrium” (Laclau 1993; Lazzard 2008: 647). Put another way, they prohibit awareness that wars are not fought over ‘alternative realities’, but different experiences of what matters in the world we occupy together. Writing on the “interfaces of landscape,” Marisa Lazzari notes that: Landscapes mediate between the dialectical relationship between various domains of reality [Palang and Fry 2003: 2] and may therefore help to convert such notions as decisions, rights duties into fully intersubjective social phenomena…. Although commensurability might be an eternal quest, intelligibility is possible across frameworks [Lucas 2005: 66] as people participate in multiple signification and value (Lazzari 2008: 648). In such a view, envisaging landscape archaeology as means to address at once context dependent and ‘globally ‘ widespread problems (Wescoat 2005) may, as Lazzari 27

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From the ‘Natural’ Forest to the ‘Forest’ of Signs The Production of Rock-art and the Management of Space in EBA Societies1 George Dimitriadis Grounding1

the dancers to the ancestral world and the warriors to human society (2002: 18).’

Humanity, now living in an artificial landscape, archives nature as an external data at the utmost to be protected according to contemporary theories bearing on Land Ethics and Aesthetic Conservation. Our opening statement seems obvious to us but was not to past generations and is still not so inter-culturally. Why? For the simple reason that Humanity lived and still lives within landscape thus making it a cultural construct – our so called ‘Natural’ landscape being no more nor no less an intra cultural creation than seemingly more ‘Cultural’ predecessors or parallels. The rhythm of life itself was an everyday learning of space by doing. How can this be demonstrated?

FIGURE 1.

Humans are the only animals that can perceive and elaborate ahead of time in a tragic way: their memento mori witness to that existential condition defined as ‘angst’ or anguish in face of the Unheimliche ‘strangeness’. Nature manifests itself to humans through revelation and wonder. Both keywords are strictly linked with the concept of Der Sandmann according to Lacan’s seminars (1968) and that of hospitalité in Derrida’s theory (1997).

Humans perceive space in a way different from non-human beings. A territory can include more than one landscape and the result being the superimposition of several places. Indeed, recalling the fragmentary elements of location we are able to read the landscape. Thanks to being located man and objects are collocated thus acquiring value and substance. Discovering location, the fundamental quanta which re-enact space, means rethinking space according to the relations and the inter-relations existing within it. That is why Time itself can be thought in keeping with Space and Materiality (cf. Bradley 2002, Lucas 2005).

1. Basic Keywords.2 Keeping in mind such philosophical implications could help us to classify the phenomena of anthropological ‘space’ as spacescape, environment, landscape, territory and location (topos) which answer to their corresponding qualities of wilderness/wildness, technology/culture, identity and temporality/taskscape (knowledgeability).

As I claim (Dimitriadis 2007) the ‘spacescape’ of non literate social groups is enfolded in the concept of ‘space creation or production’. This fundamental proposition can be illustrated by answering the particular question: ‘how could a snake model the environment’? (cf. Figure 1). Our answer suggests that isomorphism grounds spacescape perceptions. As Bradley puts it:

Scapespace: is the observer’s cosmoview. Probably the Greek term ‘Χώρος’ fits in well with this concept. Environment: is the area where modifications (in terms of functionality) and historical events and processes take place. According Deep Ecology Theory (Naess, 1982) humans built up their approach to environment as:

‘At the same time the path of the river can be interpreted in other ways. It also represents a giant snake, an anaconda, different segments of which are associated with different parts of the society. The east is connected with chiefs and the west with servants. Other roles include dancers, chanters, warriors and shamans. Their locations along the length of the ‘river-snake’ link

1.’Ecology of surface’. Remains in a ‘paternalistic’ speciecentric approach to the environment (whether natural or artificial) where environment is perceived as a resource for humans.

1 The present paper results from a couple of years’ elaboration of the ‘spacescape’ concept, and how it is possible to analyze rock-art semantically through space management. I refer readers to: Dimitriadis, G. 2008. Space syntax analysis as cognitive approach to prehistoric mentality. – In: Coimbra, F., G. Dimitriadis. Cognitive Archaeology as Symbolic Archaeology. BAR International Series, 1737.

2

More details in Dimitriadis, G. 2007. A Theoretical Framework for Spacescape. The ‘qualitative’ dimension of Space. In Maxim, Z. (ed.) Anuarul Muzeul Etnografic al Transilvaniei.

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LANDSCAPE IN MIND

PLATE 1 2. ‘Ecology of deepness’. In which a quasi identification of humans with their habit takes place (culture landscape).

In a preliminary conclusion we can assert that reciprocal human actions and interactions produce, transform and structure continuously spacescape. Living spacescape is relativistic and curves materially by becoming organized and structured by humans.

Landscape: is an area of potentialities which implies the concept of the bound, limits and form. Landscape perception associated with the way the human body reacts. Human societies are basically differenciated by culture and consequently landscape is culturally perceived (cf. Skolimowski 1981). Frobenius referred to the existence of a borderline between Spielttrieb (inside vision= actors) and Spielbruck (outside vision= visitors) in the perception of the landscape-territory-location. Landscape is lived individually. Humans perceive the space-territory, which includes several landscapes, in a personal way. Indeed, landscape is the main spatial territorial experience of man.

2. Ecology of prehistoric art Prehistoric art is a kind of animated language made by shadows, crayon and natural glues to communicate emotions and thoughts. If we assume rock-art to be a graphic register of past mentalities, ideology and everyday life it is quite obvious that the iconography impressed on the crude rock surfaces could help us understand the social history of past segmentary-social groups. Indeed, rock-art operates as a cultural deposit of social activity, especially during the III mill. BC, which was technologically characterized by metallurgy. The representation of weapons (axes, halberds, swords, etc.), solar/lunar/star motifs, plough scenes and concentric discs, single and/or double spirals, cup-marks or cup-rings-marks were highly frequent.

Territory: is an area where a network or web of macro- and micro-relations take place. Indeed, the Neolithic revolution produced a strong social stratification based on territory management and occupation (cultivation and urban ideology). In this way a dynamic approach links the emergence of individualism with the occupation and production or territory (the French ‘terroir’ versus ‘terrain/territoire’). Human bodies are part and parcel of the same game.

Most of the engravings are linked with natural features reproducing prehistoric cognitive constants such as dark/light, humid/dry, colour of rock/ochre etc. Petroglyphs appear or disappear in rocky surface cracks (Rozwadowski 2002) or implement stone profiles (Keyser & Poetschat 2004).

Place/Topos: is a nous-area (Morin 2001) constitutive of the ‘noosphere’ as Teilhad de Chardin would have put it. Being located or ‘location’ is the consciousness of a topos. Recalling the fragmentary elements of location, we are able to read the landscape, because landscape is always under construction, collectively and individually. Thanks to location man and materials acquire value and substance. Discovering location, the fundamental quanta of which reactivate spacescape, involves rethinking the spacescape according to all the possible relations and interrelations which exist or existed inside it (Fremont 1981). It was on location where basic human cognitive faculties for life grew up: this memorization knowledge process can be called ‘conceptuality’.

Quote Dimitriadis: Lines and curves coexist in close proximity: a work in progress (προς αποπεράτωση) because it previews empirical change in time (ειμαρμένη) and the expressive variety in space (δυνατότητα). […] The curve lines and the surface are not to be distinguished sharply from the scene volume favouring the clearance of multi-level ramifications without limits (συνεχές) (2004:6, 28). A concise schema gives an idea of the production process of rock-art (Plate 1).

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GEORGE DIMITRIADIS: FROM THE ‘NATURAL’ FOREST TO THE ‘FOREST’ OF SIGNS 3. Mentality & Cosmoview of EBA Societies Territoriality embodies Technology, concludes Pierre Lévy in his book-manifesto L’intelligence collective. Pour une anthropologie du cyberspace (1994). Mutatis mutandis Bronze Age societies were technologically complex and the cultural management of space was clearly represented by the first ‘topographic’ maps engraved in the Alps (Gavaldo 1995, Turconi 1997, Arcà 2004). Indeed, EBA society’s mentality was anchored basically on metallurgy. Metallurgy produces specific myths and legends and metals produce networks, and a network needs permanent social structures. That is why EBA societies produced strong iconographic imagery (i.e. weapons, circle symbols, exotic animals etc). As I proposed in a recent lecture it is easy to understand how figures, images and symbols were ‘fixed’ on the rock surface and visual information, spirituality and cosmological ideas stored as paintings (Dimitriadis 2006: 143-148) or chiselled patterns on plastic support material such as ceramics (cf. Terrell & Schechter 2007).

FIGURE 2 rock-art. The first runs between the environment and the emplacement of boulders (§ 4.1.) and the second develops between rock surface and petroglyphs dislocation (§ 4.2.)

EBA was a cultural melting-pot and the social groups were strongly linked with their landscape. Places and territories were accurately chosen for specific purposes; cult and religion were alimented by ‘cultural hero’ figures.

4.1. Macro-Paradigms Now is the moment to test the author’s theoretical speculations with excavation material and excavator’s memories. So, I present briefly three European sites located between the Alps and the Mediterranean area, but linked because they share common features: Liminality, logic of Localisation, and Iconographic repertoire.

4. Space Management According Halbwachs’s philosophy (1950), memory is a collective affair situated and reproduced inside a social network, as well as being perceived in spatial terms. Space is a dimension contributing to the fixation of memory. In a special way space has conservative elements which in their turn help to perpetuate the collective memory. Now, the fluidity of the collective memory throughout space is expressed by iconems which simply transform the original memory of the clan adding new cultic elements (the environment as construed and constructed).

In fact, human cult-systems are strongly constrained by the environment archived as a first cognitive level of human perception. It is quite probable that the geomorphology of the different environs could influence the distribution of prehistoric human groups. Outcrops and geological phenomena could stimulate human curiosity and form the setting for the beginning of mineral and metal extraction process from the Early Neolithic, EBA up to today. Social movement and displacement on the ground was coordinated in function with the natural sources for sustenance: the resources were accepted as ‘knots’ in space.

Indeed, we talk not so much of a deformation of the old ideas, signs and symbols, as of a rolling on. Space becomes location especially for specific purposes (ceremonial grounds). In fact the selection of location, once having stabilized its topographic dynamicity, works as ‘gravity’ points [land (ground and resources), vegetation, sky (sites intra-visibility, look in & look out)] or ‘semantic knots’.

Basically, we can accept the idea that the ‘land’ concept in rural societies was strictly connected with their possibility and capacity of territory utilization (cf. Dimitriadis, 2005, 2008a: 209).

Generally it is possible to visualize rock-art production as the result of the mind/rock surface interaction, where ‘mind’ indicates the actor-producer of rock-art. There are two levels for reading the location and management of

4.1.1. Anvoia-Ossimo, Valcamonica (Italy). The site of Anvoia is an EBA open air sanctuary (Figure 2) excavated by Francesco Fedele between 1988 and 35

LANDSCAPE IN MIND

SCHEMA 1

FIGURE 4 4.1.2. Cimbergo-Paspardo, Valcamonica (Italy).

FIGURE 3

The Regional Park of Rock-art in Ceto-Paspardo-Cimbergo has a very interesting rock-art cluster (Figure 3, R.1). The group of engravings comprises a Cretan-style labyrinth associated with cooked water birds and axes dated to LBA/EIA (Figure 4, cf. Cittadini 1994: 33). Between 200406 Dimitriadis re-documented and revised the material regarding the location of the labrys pattern image. The complex is carved in proximity to a seasonal water flux where there are several natural cracks due to alteration by seasonal weathering. The narrative of the scene, the location of the slippery cliff in a hidden place, inclines me to perceive rock 1 as a cultural landmark3 and it is quite plausible to perceive the rock-art as an imitation of natural geomorphologic scenarios.

2005 (Fedele 1990, 1995). How we can ‘visualize’ the place? The site present outcrops and megalithic stones located culturally according to precise astronomical alignments and cultural markers in order to distinguish the natural from the cultural. Indeed, a critical approach to the material context suggests the use of a ‘naturalistic technology’: the introduction of ‘exotic’ lithological ecofacts and their location in order to create a cultural image emplacement (Schema 1). The figured boulders that create the site as an ensemble bear evidence of ‘litholigical behaviour’ and ‘cultural functionality’ as in the Remedello (2800-2400) and BellBeaker (2400-2200) periods. In addition, the ‘positional pattern’ of the archaeological evidence (clay, pottery, ochre and bones) creates the ‘sense of the place’, which means ‘focus on the past activity’.

3

A similar labyrinth (Cretan) pattern is pecked on R.1 -Naquane and probably recalls the Ludus Troiae commemorative games referred to by Virgil.

36

GEORGE DIMITRIADIS: FROM THE ‘NATURAL’ FOREST TO THE ‘FOREST’ OF SIGNS ‘lithological behaviour’ and the ‘culture modification’ of rock borderline compose the semantic grammar of the rock art site ‘Μάνα’ (cf. B.1-τ.Α, Figure 6). 4.2. Micro-Paradigm4 Now, let us explain how it could be possible to proceed with petroglyphs micro-analysis. Our first attempt is to built up a geographic map of all the isomorphic transformations of paintings and engravings. Towards this I bore in mind a fundamental relation of rock-art: the semantic conservation of images (signs or symbols) where every single grafito can be considered as part of a much wider structure.

FIGURE 5

The second level is to investigate two important steps of rock-art production: (1) Images generative process and (2) scenic organisation. As every figure has a semantic value my intention is to understand the semantic diffusion of the engraved figures and their sedimentation process. Collecting their meaning throughout the semantic analysis of the whole panel entails understanding the semantic relations during the superimposition process, for example, of the same figure at different times or the superimposition of different figures in the same cultural horizon (cf. Plate2). 5. Conclusion FIGURE 6

EBA societies were highly integrated in their environment, which was symbolically marked. Rocks and natural features were ‘ideological artefacts corresponding to specific purposes in a double link with the landscape. The culture of anthropomorphic rocks and culture depositions of metallic

4.1.3. Mana, Philippi (Greece) An explicit case is the rock-art of Philippi, Greece, where quartzite outcrops become the attractive points for the production of rock-art (B.1-τ.Β, Figure 5). The site is well documented and studied by the author thanks to three years of fieldwork (HRAD 1999-2006, cf. Dimitriadis et al., 2007). A possible temporal frame could be close to the Late Helladic but the dating work is still in progress. The

4 For more details cf. Dimitriadis, G. (2004). The Philosophy of Image. In: Bertilsson, U. and McDermott, L. (eds). The Valcamonica Symposium 2001-2002. Rapport från Riksantikvarieämbetet 2004:6, 28-32.

PLATE 2 37

LANDSCAPE IN MIND vicenda di un santuario preistorico alpino. Archivi 10: 162-8. Edizioni del Centro: Capo di Ponte. Geyser, J.D. & Poetschat, G. 2004. The Canvas as the art: landscape analysis of the rock-art panel. In Chippindale, Ch. & Nash, G. The Figured Landscape of Rock Art. Looking at Pictures in Place. Cambridge University Press: Cambridge. p. 118-130. Halbwachs, M. 1950. The Colelctive Memory. New York: Harper-Colophon Books. Lacan, J. 1968. The Seminar Book, Book I. Freud’s Papers on Technique (1953-53). Edited by Jacques-Alain Miller, New York. Lévy, P. 1994. L’intelligence collective. Pour une anthropologie du cyberspace. Paris. Lucas, G. 2005. The Archaeology of Time. Routledge: London & New York. Morin, E. 2001. La Méthode. 5. L’Humanité de l’Humanité. Tome 1:L’identité humaine. Editions du Seuil: Paris. Naess, A. 1995. The Third World, Wilderness, and Deep Ecology. In Sessions, G. (ed.), Deep Ecology for the 21st Century. Shambhala: Boston. Rozwadowski, A. 2002. Crossing the Crack: Flying to the Cloud Indo-Iranians, Shamanism and Central Asian Rock Art. BCSP 33: 97-105. Skolimowski, H. 1981. Eco-philosophy. Designing New Tactics for Living. Terrell, J.E. & Schechter, E.M. 2007. Deciphering the Lapita Code: the Aitape Ceramic Sequence and Late Survival of the ‘Lapita Face’. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 17:1, 59-85 Turconi, C. 1997. The map of Bedolina in the context of the rock-art of Valcamonica, TRACCE On line Rock Art Bulletin 9. [Available also: http://www.rupestre.net/tracce/TURCONI.html].

artefacts answer to a kind of pattern of segmented societies based on family or other links, with strong landmark identity. Goods and ideas circulated around Europe via material culture more than people. Acknowledgments I wish to express thanks to Cristina Tanzini, who helped me to prepare this paper in English, and to Mike Singleton, Emeritus Prof. Université Catholique de Louvain, for his kindness in reading and commenting on the text with the author. References Arcà, A. 2004. The Topographic engravings of alpine rock-art. In Chippindale, Ch. & Nash, G. 2004. The Figured Landscape of Rock Art. Looking at Pictures in Place. Cambridge University Press: Cambridge. p. 318-349. Bradley, R. 2002. An Archaeology of Natural Places. Routledge: London & New York. Cittadini, T. 1994. Arte Rupestre della Valcamonica. Quaderni, Vol. 7. Edizioni del Centro: Capo di Ponte. Derrida, J. 1997. De L’hospitalité. Calmann-Lévy. Paris. Dimitriadis, G. 2004. The Philosophy of Image. In: Bertilsson, U. and McDermott, L. (eds). The Valcamonica Symposium 2001-2002. Rapport från Riksantikvarieämbetet 2004:6, 28-32. Dimitriadis, G. 2006. Bronze age cosmology and rock art images. Solar ships, deer and charts. Mediterranean Archaeology and Archaeometry, Vol.6:3, 143-148. Dimitriadis, G. 2007. Ecology of prehistoric art: a cultural landscape manifest. – Forum UNESCO University and Heritage. 10th Intern. Seminar ‘Cultural Landscapes in the 21st Century’, Newcastle-upon-Tyne. [Available on line: http://www.ncl.ac.uk/unescolandscapes/files/DIMITRI ADISGeorge.pdf]. Dimitriadis, G. 2008. Space syntax analysis as cognitive approach to prehistoric mentality. – In: Coimbra, F., G. Dimitriadis. Cognitive Archaeology as Symbolic Archaeology. BAR Intern. Series, 1737. Dimitriadis, G. 2008a. Looking for Metals: Megalithic Monuments Between Reality and Mythology. In Kostov, R.I., Gaydarska, B., Gurova, M. (eds). 2008. Geoarchaeology and Archaeomineralogy, Sofia, 205-210. Dimitriadis, G. et al. 2007. Post Palaeolithic engravings at Philippi in eastern macedonia, Greece: rock-art in the land of the Hedones. Antiquity, 81, 311. Fedele, F. 1990. L’altopiano di Ossimo-Borno nella preistoria. Ricerche 1988-90. Edizioni del Centro: Capo di Ponte. Fedele, F. 1995. Ossimo I. Quaderni Alpi Centrali 1. La Cittadina: Gianico (Bs). Fremont, A. 1981. La région, espace vécu, Presses Universitaires de France, Paris. Gavaldo, S. 1995. Le raffigurazioni topografiche. In Sansoni, U. and Gavaldo, S. L’arte rupestre del Pià d’Ort: la 38

Anthropologie, espaces et corps Antonio Guerci Le rapport entre les mots et les choses, entre le langage qui dit et le monde qui est, est un thème d’élection pour les philosophes et les linguistes, pour les sémiologues et les logiciens. De Platon à Derrida, les subtilités de l’analyse assument souvent un goût abstrait et technique, qui paraît très éloigné de l’expérience quotidienne. C’est ainsi que le chercheur « de terrain » observe parfois avec suspicion celui qui développe l'aspect théorique le plus abstrait et, vice versa, celui qui est habitué aux « méandres » de la théorie et qui s’approche avec condescendance de l’étude empirique. Ce n’est pas seulement le cas du langage : la séparation entre le système théorique et celui de la recherche appliquée marque, dans de nombreuses disciplines académiques, une limite qui divise souvent un même domaine en deux camps très peu disposés à la collaboration. Non seulement donc la séparation entre disciplines exige, depuis longtemps, de recourir à l’interdisciplinarité, mais cette même subdivision au sein d’une même discipline fragmente aujourd’hui les connaissances, en portant au cœur même de la recherche scientifique (ou plus simplement de la recherche tout court) une division du travail qui parait plus fonctionnelle au travail à la chaîne qu’au progrès de la connaissance.

les plus riches et intéressants, non seulement vu la quantité de matériel disponible et de possibilités de prospection, mais aussi compte tenu des implications que l’intersection disciplinaire permet et requiert en même temps. De l’histoire des populations peu connues, de l’interprétation des traces symboliques et culturelles, de l’observation des « cas historiques », des études sur les périodes quasiment ignorées d’un point de vu anthropologique jusqu’à celles sur le rôle (économique, mais aussi symbolique) du paysage, tout cet ensemble de recherches a recours à des techniques, des protocoles et des présupposés conceptuels différents, parfois même hétérogènes, qui néanmoins cohabitent, et souvent même se complètent, dans le cadre de la reconstruction historique anthropologique. Il est intéressant de souligner certaines recherches qui ont contribué à une meilleure connaissance des populations, des espaces, des corps, et parmi celles-ci les : - recherches morphologiques : enquêtes classiques sur des restes humains de fouilles qui conduisent à la détermination du sexe, de l’âge de la mort, de l’appartenance populationniste, outre bien entendu, des caractéristiques somatiques (stature, poids, diamètres, périmètres). Mais l’observation morphologique permet aussi de faire des considérations sur l’état de santé et sur les stress liés à l’emploi d’instruments particuliers, donc aux activités prédominantes, aux habitudes de travail et aux modifications consécutives de l’environnement ;

Affronter ce genre de séparation au sein de la science et de la connaissance sera probablement une des tâches les plus urgentes à laquelle les futures générations de chercheurs devront s’attaquer. De nombreux indices laissent entrevoir que la science se trouve aujourd’hui confrontée à un exercice conceptuel retranché sur des positions propres, comparable à ce qui traversa l’ancien système scientifique avant que la position galiléenne n’offre un nouveau souffle et de nouveaux instruments à la recherche.

- recherches génétiques : l’identification de l’ADN contribue à la reconstruction de la phylogenèse humaine et des parcours migratoires des populations du passé ainsi que des différents croisements intervenus. Par ailleurs ce type d’analyses consent de quantifier la variabilité inter-groupale et, particulièrement, intra-groupale pour connaître le degré d’homogénéité des échantillons examinés ;

Au-delà (ou en delà) des séparations entre les disciplines et parmi les disciplines, nous tentons de mettre à jour certains courts circuits qui relient l’analyse théorique à la pratique quotidienne. En réalité, les subtilités de la théorie se personnifient en de véritables modèles de faire les choses et de percevoir le monde, et la Weltanschauung de la vie quotidienne se reflète ensuite – bien que sous une forme cachée – sur la manière dont on étudie et on lit le monde. Nous ne manquons pas aujourd’hui en Occident ni d’excellentes théories, ni de phénomènes à expliquer, ce qui manque parfois c’est la disponibilité à se mettre dans la position inconfortable de l’observateur, et souvent d’avoir la force de dégager les conclusions des données recueillies (Guerci, Consigliere, 2005).

- recherches paléobiologiques : elles mènent à contextualiser dans son milieu, le matériel étudié. Ces analyses aident les reconstructions paléonutritionnelles, paléoclimatiques et, grâce aux études de la micro-flore et micro-faune, à l’identification des pathocénoses, d’éventuels milieux pathogènes présents sur le lieu à ce moment là. Développer, de manière appropriée, le concept de milieu en anthropologie présuppose une approche sans limites ; mais ici nous n’introduirons que quelques réflexions. La

Le terrain de recherche vers lequel convergent anthropologie, préhistoire, archéologie et histoire est parmi 39

LANDSCAPE IN MIND définition de ce qu’est le milieu met aussitôt en cause la théorie de l’évolution et la réflexion anthropologique.

grâce au langage. En partant de ces présupposés, l’interrogation environnementale peut être revue sous une prospective quelque peu différente : le problème pourrait ne pas résider du fait que la technique humaine détruit des milieux (pour construire des milieux indésirables), mais du fait qu’elle détruit des parties du monde en éliminant des possibilités et de nouvelles voies à parcourir.

Selon une distinction qui promet d’être féconde, nous pouvons imaginer le milieu comme une constellation naturelle spécifique relative à une espèce, un découpage de contenus perceptifs possibles, à l’intérieur desquels l’espèce est, pour ainsi dire, prise au piège, demeurant isolée à l’intérieur des seules relations qu’elle est en mesure de reconnaître et d’habiter.

Le corps est un lieu Un lieu existe par rapport à quelque chose : un autre lieu ou un non-lieu. Le lieu n’est pas un espace, n’est pas une abstraction géométrique qui se trouve sur des coordonnées infinies, ni même une sorte de boite vide qui renferme tout. Le lieu est quelque chose de construit : c’est la zone qui se trouve découpée par l’espace indéfini quand on donne la possibilité d’exister à un évènement, une rencontre, un échange, une transformation. Donc le lieu est l’espace mesurable d’une réussite ou d’un échec.

Dans ce sens pour les êtres humains, animaux proverbialement nus, privés de spécialisations environnementales particulières et de niches écologiques préférentielles, on ne parle pas tant de milieu mais plutôt de « monde », sous-entendant ainsi la possibilité humaine de dépasser, grâce à la progression à l’adaptation culturelle, tout lien spécifique environnemental-physiologique. Les êtres humains, en somme, sont affranchis de tout milieu particulier, et interviennent plutôt dans un ensemble de possibilités de vie (c’est-à-dire le « monde ») qu’à l’intérieur de toute réalisation particulière de la relation entre le vivant et l’écosystème : le milieu (Guerci, Consigliere, 2000).

Les lieux métaphoriques et matériels ont ces particularités : ils sont mesurables, c’est-à-dire qu’on peut les dessiner (et ainsi les transposer sur une carte géographique) et en outre il sont chargés de potentialités particulières qui offrent des résultats différents et cohérents aux attentes.

Environnement La relation entre le monde relativement ouvert et le milieu relativement fermé pose aussi le problème de l’acclimatation, c’est-à-dire le processus qui permet aux êtres humains de transformer le monde qui les entoure en milieu, en fixant, par des relations stables, quelques unes des possibilités disponibles.

Cartes ou anatomies

L’acclimatation est le processus qui sélectionne certaines possibilités présentes dans le monde et qui les fait devenir culturellement stables.

En effet les cartes géographiques sont des objets fascinants et même séduisants, tant par l’esthétique que par l’esprit qui sont à leur base. Une carte géographique est une représentation du monde, le dessin d’une réalité explorable, non seulement parce qu’elle aspire directement à représenter la réalité physique environnante, mais parce que ses points cruciaux, ses « astuces » graphiques et conceptuels sont, euxmêmes, une manifestation implicite d’un monde sousjacent, celui culturel, conceptuel et social.

La géographie a développé durant des siècles des études très appréciables grâce à son instrument le plus important, la carte géographique, aidée en cela par deux alliés inattendus : la littérature et les soi-disant sciences cognitives.

Les relations avec le monde, qui figent un milieu, sont bien entendu différentes de culture à culture. Par exemple l’ensemble des potentialités offertes par ce qui est physiologiquement « comestible » le monde alimentaire c’est-à-dire ce qui peut être utilement mangé d’un point de vue physiologique - est déterminé différemment par chaque culture en un nombre précis d’aliments effectivement « mangeables », le milieu alimentaire c’est-à-dire ce qui est permis culturellement d’être mangé.

Un autre attrait des cartes géographiques réside dans leur caractère d’être tant apparemment objectives que structurellement conventionnelles. Toutes aspirent à l’objectivité absolue, chacune retombant dans les bases de leur fonction : l’utilité pratique qu’elles revêtent.

Ainsi dans le milieu alimentaire musulman la viande de porc est inexistante et dans le milieu alimentaire européen les sauterelles sont absentes, bien que tous les deux, porcs et sauterelles, entrent dans le monde alimentaire admis par la physiologie humaine.

Ce qui est valable pour les cartes géographiques l’est aussi pour les planches anatomiques. Si nous croyons qu’une représentation graphique du corps différente de la nôtre n’est qu’une superstition ou une hypothèse romanesque, pensons à tout ce qui sépare la vision de l’anatomie du médecin occidental à celle du patient occidental ; aux

La transformation du monde en milieu advient avant tout au travers des relations culturelles, et presque toujours par la médiation de la technique qui, à son tour, est possible 40

ANTONIO GUERCI: ANTHROPOLOGIE, ESPACES ET CORPS anatomies orientales, aux représentations des corps dans l’art rupestre…. L’anatomie n’est pas le corps, mais une modélisation du corps qui normativise les paramètres organiques point de départ pour l’observation et la prévision d’évènements impliquant la santé et, à l’opposé, la maladie. On se trouve ainsi, encore une fois, à mettre en discussion un des présupposés les plus tacites et puissants de la pensée occidentale : l’idéalisme qui foncièrement fait découler les choses des idées, la matière de la pensée. En effet, qui garantit que deux cartes géographiques d’un même lieu, malgré la symbolique divergente et l’ensemble différent d’informations implicites concorderont ? Parce qu’elles ont été dessinées toutes les deux, à partir d’une réalité externe voulue (dans un moment historique précis) et utilement périmétrée. Ce n’est pas la carte qui modifie la géographie, mais la géographie qui permet de réaliser des cartes distinctes. De la même manière ce n’est pas l’anatomie qui créé le corps, avec ses formes d’équilibre (ou ses maladies), mais c’est le corps même, réalité complexe, qui aboutit à différentes anatomies (Guerci, 2007) Bibliographie Guerci A., Consigliere S., 2000. Ambiente : note antropologiche. Infermiere a Pavia, anno XI n. 3-4. p. 67. Guerci A., Consigliere S., 2005. Mots et maux d’Occident. Réflexions pour l’interprétation des soins d’ici et d’ailleurs. In : Panser le monde, penser les médecines, ed. L. Pordié. Karthala, Paris. p. 33-51. Guerci A., 2007. Dall’antropologia all’antropopoiesi. Breve saggio sulle rappresentazioni e costruzioni della variabilità umana. C. Lucisano ed., Milano.

41

Mind Mapping among Mbowamb and around Motten - On the Significance of Landmarks in Interior New Guinea and Ancient Central Europe H.C. Dosedla Alf Krauliz may take part these provide the occasion for the incantation of special sacred songs of the ancestral lore greatly dealing with and thus confirming geographical features of the traditional settlement patterns in this way actually constituting a mental map of the territory. These incantations always were a substantial part of communal tribal wisdom usually transmitted during initiation in the course of generations which ceased as a consequence of cultural change and christianisation within a few decades after primary contact.

Introduction The area around the village of Motten is located on a vast granit plateau belonging to the outskirts of the Bohemian Forest at the border between northern Lower Austria and Southern Czechia with settlement traces rangeing from the palaeolithic period to medieval times within a landscape which remained in some state of remoteness until the last century. Having experienced primary contact as late as in the middle of the 20 th century the tribal complex known as the Mbowamb or Mt.Hagen tribes of the Western Highlands Province (WHP) of PNG are not only one of the last populations at this time literally still living on a stone age level but also one of the largest ones throughout Melanesia. They consist on some kind of union of twelve main tribes and several subtribes all of them linguistically being closely related and sharing the same spiritual traditions (Vicedom and Tischner 1943-48, vol. I:. 129.; Gitlow 1947: 5f.).

Most of the rare texts which could have been collected by the author 1970-72 (Dosedla 1977: 91-112) are showing the same typological structure. In a somewhat poetical speech full of hidden symbolic meanings they are depicting the flight of a bird across the landscape inhabited by the Mt.Hagen tribes including all the significant landmarks which are passed on each distinct route (Strathern and Stewart 2003: 51-76). These routes are thought to be identical with the ones having been taken in ancestral times by the founders of the various tribal branches of the Mbowamb, and the songs are referring to the main stations on their way where, according to oral lore, particular events had occured.

The Mbowamb and their Territory in the Central Highlands of PNG The settlement region of these tribes can be defined as the greatest part of the Wahgi Basin and its surrounding mountain slopes with the provincial capital of Mt.Hagen at the communal centre since the sixties of the last century covering an area of fairly fifteen to twenty miles and numbering about 100.000 people according to the latest census which represents one of the highest population densities throughout New Guinea. (Fig. 1)

As a matter of fact participants and members of the various spirit cults bound to marked localities considered as sacred would regularly pass these sites on their pilgrimage to the meetings at some central ceremonial ground and perform minor rituals on these intervals. Other occasions when such sacred landmarks eventually are visited and then may be involved in the one or other ritual activity are taking place when a hunting team, a trading party or any other group are passing them on their way crossing the Mbowamb territory in any direction (Dosedla 1987: 103-111; Dosedla 1990: 187197). While nowadays there are most of the time no serious obstacles to such wandering groups throughout the whole area this was not always possible previous to the establishment of a modern government system when hostility and warfare was common even among different tribal sections of the Mbowamb.

According to common oral lore each tribe was founded by a distinct ancestor who numerous generations ago had entered the Mbowamb territory and then settled down with his family in a particular part of it. Each of these sub-territories is marked by a spiritual centre representing the spot where the mythical founder of the local group had performed his initial sacrifice which is signified by a more or less impressing landmark as a cave, a rock, a spring, a pond or the like (Strauss and Tischner 1962: 319).

Among the ritual activities being performed at the sacred landmarks there were and to some degree still are sacrifices of pigs, piglets or game and other offerings of all sorts, often combined with dancing, drum beating and incantations. (Figs. 2-4) Certain springs, ponds and water holes with reputed magical powers are also used for drinking or

Since there are regular gatherings when spirit cult events (Strathern 1971: 162) or so-called Moka-exchangeceremonies (Bulmer 1960: 1-13.) usually combined with pigkilling festivals are held and several tribes of the Mbowamb 43

LANDSCAPE IN MIND

FIG 1: LOCATION MAP OF THE MBOWAMB TERRITORY, WESTERN HIGHLANDS

PROVINCE OF PAPUA-NEW GUZINEA

44

H.C. DOSEDLA: MIND MAPPING AMONG MBOWAMB AND AROUND MOTTEN

FIG.4: SACRIFICE MEMORIAL POST

purification ceremonies. Many landmarks in the shape of significant rocks showing some kind of a hole or a narrow gap are ritually used for creeping through them, and others are used for sliding down along them either for the sake of curing sickness or to get rid of any evil influences. There are at least three caves, one of which provided the stage for initiation rites, and others still are sometimes used for minor ceremonial meetings.

FIG. 2: SMALL SACRIFICE OF A DOG

Some rocks also are bearing simply shaped incisions which are occasionally scratched out again in order to obtain stone powder used for magical purposes. These and other rocks as well as certain disc shaped respectively oblong cult stones representing the male and female principle are at intervals painted with white, yellow and red ochre, blackened with charcoal and rubbed with pig grease in order to enforce their magical powers (Strathern 1971: 162 f.). Though there are fundamental differences between the socalled "song lines" of Australian aborigines and the "bird flight route"- incantations of the Mbowamb there is also some similarity concerning their apparent function since both phenomena may be regarded as traditional instruments of citing ancestral lore in order to express certain land claims for a distinct population group. The Prehistorical Landscape around Motten in Lower Austria, Central Europe The village of Motten is situated near the Czech border fairly 200 km northwest of Vienna in a part of Lower Austria known as the Northern Forest region. In the old local dialect the area was called "Granitza" which means "border" and also refers to the local granite stone impressingly modelling the whole landscape. (Fig. 5 ) Due to its remoteness until recently this area was, apart from its touristical values not

FIG.3: GREAT PIG MOKA SACRIFICE

45

LANDSCAPE IN MIND

FIG.5: LOCATION MAP OF MOTTEN, LOWER AUSTRIA

only neglected economically but also by archaeological research. Though its close connection to the prehistorical amber route crossing the continent this region according to common opinion was expected to have greatly remained uninhabited at these times and became only gradually colonized during the medieval era (Agnew 2004: 20 f.). That this opinion was completely hypothetical turned out lately by surprising excavations of the last two decades revealing the existence of a rather dense slavic settlement from at least the 8th to 9th century (Dvornik 1962: 5 f.) but also of considerable continuous inhabitation of the area from the palaeolithical period onwards (Penz 2001: 205 f.).

region also was frequented by a hunting population using the rock shelters probably in a similar way. While neolithic settlements have been excavated rather at the fringes of the region (Whittle 1996: 151f.) its central parts were still used and seasonally visited at this time by regular hunting parties deriving from several archaeological relics having been left by them (Bailey and Sipkins: 221). Another important reason why this area was evidently occupied by neolithic inhabitants to some extent are considerable local flint and hornstone deposits and the rich graphite mines (Dosedla and Krauliz 2008: 283) which at this time were eagerly in demand for contemporary black ceramic production and thus gave rise to a regular trading system in exchange for salt from the south across the Danube though due to lacking traces of permanent settlements nothing is known yet on the population density.

Regarding the significance of landmarks this region is all over covered by gigantic granite rock formations of all spectacular shapes which evidently must have attracted the fancy of men throughout all periods as they still are impressing modern tourists.

There is no serious argument against the probability that a great number of noticeable rock formations in that area were used as landmarks for the sake of orientation as well on hunting trips as by trading parties during these periods. Another remarkable feature regarding these rocks are innumerable bowl-shaped dimples and holes which many of them are bearing on their surface being mostly of a natural origin but sometimes also showing artificial marks which prominent scholars have interpreted as prehistorical signs of some ritual activities. The same applies to stone circles and other stone settings scattered throughout this area (Kovarnik 2006). (Fig. 8)

Since according to archaeological evidence as an extraordinary exception during the last glacial period this area was completely free from ice and instead was covered by a vast tundra vegetation it was then abundant of all contemporary game and thus attracted crowds of palaeolithic hunters who appearently took frequent shelter under these heaps of rocks which often offered a cave or at least some suitable abyss (Zeman and Suchy 1998:. 65f.). (Figs. 6-7) Various incisions and other sculptural marks, especially one in the shape of a mammouth-head (Krauliz 2001:156), on such rocks may be dated back to this early stage. During the Mesolithic era the 46

H.C. DOSEDLA: MIND MAPPING AMONG MBOWAMB AND AROUND MOTTEN

a

FIG.7: ROCK FORMATION WITH ABYSS NEAR MOTTEN VILLAGE

b FIG.6: GRANITE CAVE NEAR MOTTEN VILLAGE

FIG.8: STONE SETTING NEAR MOTTEN VILLAGE

Another unexpected aspect of the importance of these rocks is the discovery that many of them are containing capable deposits of iron ore but also copper ore which according to the archaeological evidence has been regularly mined for and, together with bog ore collected from numerous peat-pits, was used for manufaction from prehistorical until medieval times but in some cases even up to the 19th century (Berend 2003: 146).

today mostly are not easily visible any more since they are covered by forest (Harding 2001: 353). Though there are neither written nor oral records about these early periods of the area we do have an abundant lot of informations concerning the significant landmarks from the 18 th century onwards when catholic priests started a campaign against various forms of pagan rituals which still were practised by the local peasants at certain rocks, springs, stone circles and other particular places around Motten and in neighbouring districts. In order to stop superstitious

Besides of rock formations, stone circles and other stone settings quite a number of significant landmarks in this area were fortresses belonging to former periods rangeing between bronze age and early medieval times the remnants of which 47

LANDSCAPE IN MIND Dosedla, H. 1990, Ecological conditions of intertribal exchange of goods among the highland peoples of PapuaNew Guinea, Acta Ethnographica Acad. Scienc. Hung., vol. 36, Budapest. Dosedla, H. and A. Krauliz 2008, Black Gold of the Past – Strategies of prehistoric graphite trade, Sixth World Archaeological Congress, Dublin. Dvornik, F. 1962, The Slavs in European History and Civilization, Rutger. Gitlow, A. 1947, Economics of the Mount Hagen Tribes, New Guinea. Monographs of the American Ethnological Society, no. 12, Washington. Harding, A (ed.) 2001, A bronze Age Site in Bohemia. Památky Archeologické, vol. XCII, nr. 2, Praha. Kovarnik, J and and V. Podborsky 2006, Europe’s oldest civilization and it’s rondels. Antiquity, vol. 80, no. 310. Krauliz, A. (ed.) 2001, Natur und Kultur im Grenzbereich nördliches Waldviertel und Südliches Tschechien, Center of Interdisciplinary Studies & Research, Motten 2001. Penz, M. 2001, Früheste Besiedlungsgeschichte und Archäologie des nordwestlichen Waldviertels, in: Krauliz 2001, p. 205-222. Postan, M, E.Miller and H. J. Habakkuk 1966, A Survey of Trade and Industry in Pre-Roman, Roman and Byzantine Europe, Cambridge. Schreiber, H. 1962, Merchants, Pilgrims and Highwaymen. A History of Roads through Ages, New York 1962. Strathern, A. and M. Strathern 1971, Selfdecoration in Mount Hagen, London 1971. Strathern, A. and P. J. Stewart 2003 , Divisions of Power. Rituals in Time and Space among the Hagen and Duna Peoples, Papua-New Guinea. Taiwan Journal of Anthropology 1(1). Strauss, H. and H. Tischner 1962, Die Mi-Kultur der Hagenberg-Stämme im östlichen Zentral-Neuguinea. Hamburg 1962. Vicedom, G. and H. Tischner 1943-48, Die Mbowamb. Die Kultur der Hagenberg-Stämme im östlichen ZentralNeuguinea, 3 vols., Hamburg. Whittle, A. W. R. 1996, Europe in the Neolithic. The Creation of New Worlds, Cambridge 1996 Zeman, A. and V. Suchy 1998, Seismotectonic Trending Lineaments of the Bohemian Massiv. Geolines, vol. 6, Praha.

activities of that sort many of these places became christianised in some way and even pilgrimages started linking them together along distinct routes which actually are following prehistoric and medieval traffic paths now greatly covered by forest which until the early 20 th century also were frequently used by smugglers heading towards the nearby border (Postan, Miller and Habakkuk 1966: 532). Some caves already having been used by palaeolithic hunters were according to reports of the 19 th century also used as hiding places by robbers roaming around in that region (Schreiber 1962:. 156). Among the rituals connected with these local landmarks which are part of the contemporary folklore of this region there is a wide spectrum rangeing from offerings, the internal and external use of sacred waters, creeping through holes, sliding along over rocks, incisions in certain stones for collecting magical powder, and there are also reported cases of secret meetings at some rock places with collective music, dancing, singing and even love making (Berend 2007: 218). Conclusion Taking into account the vague reliability of a comparison between the conditions of a contemporary society representing stone age level as in the case of a New Guinean highland tribe and the prehistorical inhabitants of a region in Central Europe this may still provide a base for some hypothetical assumptions that in the latter example there could have been at least similar traditional concepts regarding an attitude towards significant landmarks as a means of orientation and their probable rôle within any ritual complex.

References Agnew, H. 2004 The Czechs and the Land of the Bohemian Crown, Stanford. Bayley, G. N. and P. Sipkins 2002, Mesolithic Europe, Cambridge Berend, T. I. 2003, History Derailed. Central and Eastern Europe in the long 19th Century, Berkeley 2003. Berend, N (ed.) 2007, Christianisation and the Rise of Christian Monarchy in Central Europe, Cambridge. Bulmer, R. N. H. 1960, Political Aspects of the Moka Ceremonial Exchange System among the Kyaka people of the Western Highlands of Papua-New Guinea, Oceania, vol. 33. Dosedla, H. 1977 Oral traditions, historical consciousness and cultural change among the Mbowamb in the central highlands of Papua-New Guinea, Wiener Ethnohistor. Blätter, vol. 13, Vienna. Dosedla, H. 1987, Traditional trade routes and intertribal communication in interior Papua-New Guinea, MAGW, vol. 117, Vienna . 48

West Kennet Avenue: Avenue of Gender/Avenue of Power Lionel Sims along the length of the Avenue. When North found lunar and astral alignments across and along the Avenue, he remarked on the utility and artistry of stone shapes for distinguishing transverse and diagonal combinations of stones. North, reworking Thom and Thom’s work, found seven sections along the excavated and renovated section of the West Kennet Avenue with two ideal quadrangular arrangements of stones. The southern sections combined cross alignments in consort with the changing local landscape horizons to provide bearings on the risings and settings of the southern and northern minor lunar standstills, north-south cardinal alignments across one set of diagonals and alignments along the length of the Avenue on stars seen setting on the local north-western horizon. These astral alignments crossed over the positions of human burials by some Avenue stones. The northern section combined cross alignments on the setting southern major standstill of the moon, west-east cardinal alignments, and astral alignments on the local south-eastern horizon (North 1996). The burials were at the north-eastern foot of stones 29a, 22b,18b and in the stone-hole of 25b. Partial human remains, but no burial, were also deposited at the north-eastern feet of stones 25a and 5b. In a roughly quadrangular area between stone pairs 35 and 25 the Keiller & Piggot excavation also found an ‘Occupation Site’, in which there was a large amount of surface scatter of flint tools, flint waste, local and exotic stones, and the deposition of charcoal and other materials in ten natural holes and two artificial pits. Taken together, all these claims could contribute to a compelling narrative that combined heterosexual fertility, death, the underworld and cosmic resurrection with the setting and rising sun, moon and stars. Do these claims withstand careful scrutiny?

Introduction The West Kennet Avenue was a late Neolithic/Early Bronze Age row of 98-100 pairs of stones that used to link the Avebury circle with the ‘Sanctuary’ nearly 2.5 kilometres away. Today all that remain are a few surviving stones and 68 re-erected stones or concrete plinths in the northern section close to the Avebury circle. The excavations and renovations by Keiller and Piggot (Keiller & Piggot 1936, Smith 1965, Murray 2000) before the Second World War revealed that beside and around some of these stones were burials and votive depositions, and the survey by Thom and Thom reconfirmed that the northern renovated portion was a series of connected straight sections (Thom & Thom 1976). A number of dimensions have been suggested for the Avenue’s possible meaning. As a route the Avenue subtly interacts with the local landscape and monuments of Beckhampton Avenue, Avebury circle, Windmill Hill causewayed enclosure, the Sanctuary and Silbury Hill. As a spectacle the stones describe a parallel passageway of standing stones which, the excavators suggested, paired type A (pillar) opposite type B (lozenge) stones signifying male and female properties. Some later writers suggested these pillars and lozenges alternated along the length of the West Kennet Avenue. As markers the West Kennet Avenue stones sometimes signified the position for the (below world) ritual deposition of human and animal remains and other votive deposits and as the sighting posts for the (above world) alignment on moon, sun and stars. These interpretations can be found within and across a number of publications (for example Burl 2002, Dames 1996, North 1996, Pitts 2000, Smith 1965, Stone 1958, Thom & Thom 1976, Thomas 1999, Ucko 1991, Whittle 1996). I have already considered some aspects of the West Kennet Avenue as a route (Sims 2007b), and this article will concentrate on the Avenue as spectacle and marker by interdisciplinary triangulation between archaeology, archaeoastronomy and anthropology.

Keiller and Piggot’s pillar/lozenge classification and ‘occupation site’ The material deposited in the area labelled ‘the occupation site’ by Keiller and Piggot could not be equated with normal domestic waste. Also the material put in the natural holes and artificial pits was not typical of storage pits or rubbish dumps associated with dwelling areas. Nevertheless, Smith’s report persisted in calling the area an ‘occupation site’. The ‘occupation’ area was focussed upon where the present day concrete marker for stone 30b was placed by the excavators. But there never was a stone 30b - no stone-hole or stone was located where, by extrapolation from the Avenue’s average dimensions, it might have been. Nevertheless a concrete plinth, albeit of a different shape from others, marked the spot they thought a stone should have been placed. Keiller and Piggot identified pillars by their perpendicular and

West Kennet Avenue Keiller & Piggot claimed that the Avebury monument builders valued an ideal arrangement in which pillar and lozenge shaped stones stood opposite each other along West Kennet Avenue (Keiller & Piggot 1936: 420). Isobel Smith added that this may well have indicated a gender symbolism, in which male (pillar) and female (lozenge) paired attributes referenced a fertility theme as one possible meaning for the West Kennet Avenue and the Avebury monuments as a whole (Smith 1965: 197). Later Burl (Burl 2002: 76) suggested that these type A and type B stones also alternated 49

LANDSCAPE IN MIND

50

LIONEL SIMS: WEST KENNET AVENUE: AVENUE OF GENDER/AVENUE OF POWER TABLE 1 WEST KENNET AVENUE TYPE A/B CONVENTION.

STONE PAIRS

Pair Number

Row b

Row a

13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37

B A A B A A B B X A B B B

A A A A A A B A A B B A A B

13-37

BY

and ‘lozenge’ (B) shaped stones are arranged along row ‘a’ (left hand row when leaving Avebury circle) and row ‘b’ (right hand row when leaving Avebury circle (contra Burl 2002, Smith 1965).

SMITH’S

It can be seen that pairs 13, 18, 26 and 35 seem to meet the ‘ideal’, in which pillar and lozenge shaped stones are paired as opposites. However stone pairs 15, 32, 33 and 37 combine like, not opposite, stones. If as many like as opposite stones are paired, then what criteria are being mobilised to identify an ideal of combining opposites? It can also be seen that the stone types along the length of the avenue are not alternately sequenced between pillar and lozenge. The row ‘a’ stones 13, 14 and 15 are all pillars one after the other, and do not alternate with lozenges. The most obvious lozenge stone 13b should generate in alternating sequence a pillar for stone 26b, when in fact it is the third most obvious lozenge (see below). In all there are 53 different combinations of stones along the lengths of the two rows that contradict the assumption that the builders aspired to an ‘ideal’ that pillar should alternate with lozenge. It is no defence of the ‘ideal’ to claim that perhaps a shortage of suitably shaped stones accounts for these anomalies. The 15 pillars and 11 lozenges that survive in this section of the Avenue could have been placed to create 11 paired opposites instead of the 4 found. And both stones 33a and 33b are large quadrangular slabs that could have been erected on one of their corners instead of on their bases to create very impressive lozenge-shaped stones at any position in the Avenue. The same point could be made for the small slab-like stones 31a, 21a and 14a. The evidence cannot support the claimed ‘ideal’ type A and B stones alternating across and along the West Kennet Avenue, and therefore undermines interpretations connecting this relationship to themes of ‘fertility’ or lunar and astral sighting posts. In summary, we have an ‘occupation site’ which was not an occupation area, a stone marker where there never was a stone, and stones of a shape they ‘should’ not be put in positions they ‘should not’ have been put.1 On the assumption that the builders knew what they were doing, let us re-examine the data.

Note 1. Notation follows the convention adopted by Smith (1965). 2. Rows are arranged from south (bottom) to north (top) as West Kennet Avenue approaches Avebury circle. 3. Smith labelled the two parallel rows of West Kennet Avenue as ‘a’ and ‘b’ for the left and right rows when leaving Avebury circle, therefore moving from top to bottom of this table. 4. Stone types: i) A : Type A (pillar) ii) B : Type B (lozenge) iii) - : missing stone indicated by a concrete plinth iv) X : stone never placed at 30b, but position marked by unique concrete plinth

Hypothesis Let us begin with an archaeological finding – there was no stone at position 30b. Let us assume that this was intended by the builders and is significant. If this hypothesis is useful, then its implications should resonate with and elaborate our understanding of the other pieces of data that we have. Other data minimally comes from archaeological site excavation, the renovated portions of the avenue from rescue archaeology, field survey and archaeo-astronomical claims for the avenue.

parallel sides, higher than they are broad, with flat tops and bottoms, and lozenges by their pointed tops and bottoms with broad diamond-shaped breadths. If we use this classification of type A and B stones, then by the most generous application of these criteria to the photographs of the stones shown on Plate 1, Table 1 shows how ‘pillar’ (A)

1

“…[T]he holes…cannot be interpreted as adjuncts of normal habitation. It is difficult to evade the conclusion that this site has a direct connection with the Avenue and it is a coincidence worthy of remark that no evidence at all could be found for the existence of a stone opposite stone 30a…[T]he coincidence is a curious one.” (Smith 1965: 212)

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LANDSCAPE IN MIND If the implications of this one fact facilitates one and possibly all four of these data dimensions, then the more confidence we can have that the initial hypothesis is robust. If this assumption is incorrect, then this procedure should be a severe test for the hypothesis. These prior research findings, collected quite independently of this ‘anomalous’ property, should therefore easily refute the assumptions behind the hypothesis.

initial curiosity for the absence of a stone at position 30b in the West Kennet Avenue as a lunar signifier is worth investigating. If the ‘missing’ stone 30b was meant to symbolise a limit of the 29½ day lunar synodic cycle, and assuming the digital alternation of the lunar cycle between dark and full moon, would the position 30b indicate dark or full moon? To be consistent with my theory that one meaning of prehistoric Avebury circle was to stage a ritual at dark moon at winter solstice, and if the Avenue is a processional way towards or away from this circle, then 29½ days before or after dark moon is of course also dark moon. According to this logic, we would therefore expect to find the West Kennet Avenue sectioned into groups of thirty pairs of stones that each represented a lunar synodic month, with the boundaries between each section representing dark moon and marked by each thirtieth pair missing one stone, as at position 30b. Unfortunately, of course, the mass destruction of the Avenues and monuments in the fourteenth and eighteenth centuries, and their very partial excavation and reconstruction since, do not furnish us with a full body of data to test this prediction for the entire length of the Avenue. Therefore, before we continue down this line of thought with the limited material at hand, can we find a different type of evidence less degraded by time and human intervention to provide reassurance that the missing stone 30b might indicate a significant interval consistent with the symbolism of dark moon?

In a previous paper I argued that Beckhampton and West Kennet Avenues artfully guides a procession of people towards, through and away from the Avebury circle to only allow views of Silbury Hill as a facsimile for the moon. Seen this way, the Avenues generate views of Silbury Hill mimicking crescent (waxing and waning) and set moon during solstice rituals which emulate or coincide with the periods of the lunar standstills. A component of these rituals would have been to simulate a journey through and sojourn within the underworld timed to culminate with the longest darkest night – dark moon at winter solstice (Sims 2007b). If this model is correct, then the fact that no stone was ever located at position 30b in the West Kennet Avenue is perfectly understandable, since 29½ pairs of stones is a measure of the number of days of the synodic month – the period from one full or dark moon to the other. Therefore my initial hypothesis, rather than being part of an inductive accumulation of selected self-fulfilling ‘evidence’, is deducible from my theory of lunar-solar conflation (Sims 2006). This paper will now consider whether this suggested lunar property of concrete marker 30b is consistent with the remaining data and how it might discriminate between the two main models for the West Kennet Avenue as a spectacle and marker.

The ‘Occupation Site’ The ‘Occupation Site’ describes an area of the West Kennet Avenue between and around stone pairs 32-27. In Figure 1 it can be seen that surface scatter of over 1,000 flint implements and over 100 kilograms of debitage was centred about 5 metres north of position 30b, and rapidly diminished along the row ‘b’ stones in each direction close to stones 32b and 27b. A lesser row ‘a’ flint scatter was focussed about 15 metres north of stone 31a. A similar distribution of exotic stones also littered the original surface of this area. The two areas of flint and exotic stone concentration therefore surrounded and were focussed upon the position 30b. This section of West Kennet Avenue mimics the linear alignment of ten naturally occurring solution holes in a local deposit of Coombe Rock. These natural holes were augmented by two artificial pits. The holes were roughly circular or oval at their tops, on average about 0.7 metres in diameter and spiralled on average 0.4 metres downwards to a funnel shape. The two pits were bowl-shaped about 1.4 metres in diameter and 0.5 metres deep. They were all used by the monument builders for the deposition of flint artefacts, sarsen and exotic stone fragments, broken pieces of Group VII axe, pottery, animal remains, and a central charcoal core sometimes surrounded by an unbaked clay lining. The two rows of standing stones of the West Kennet Avenue were designed to follow the line of

First let us consider the issue of numeration. The number of stones in the West Kennet Avenue has been estimated at 98100 pairs, which is the same estimate given for the number of stones in the Great (outer) circle at Avebury. Other arrangements of stones at Avebury also indicate lunar-solar cycles: 13 stones in the ‘D’ feature, 29 stones in the southern inner circle, and 27 stones in the northern inner circle. At Stonehenge, for example, there were also 29½ stones (Newham 1972) in the outer circle of sarsen Stonehenge.2 While no scholarly gazette of number systems in British late Neolithic/EBA monuments has yet been constructed, and while these local examples do not constitute anything approaching ‘proof’, it is enough to encourage us that our 2 99 months is the shortest number of months that coincide with the lowest whole number of synodic years; there are 13 full or dark moons in any one year; the average length of the synodic month is 29.5 days; it takes the moon 27.3 days to circle the earth and therefore return to the same star in the sky; while today we measure lunar standstills by an 18.61 year cycle, it is almost certain that prehistoric sky-watchers measured them by the solstice dark moons that bounded this cycle within a 19 year period (Sims 2006). Stone 11 in the outer sarsen circle of Stonehenge 3ii-vi is half the height, half the breadth and half the width of all the other stones in the outer circle (Newham 1972).

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LIONEL SIMS: WEST KENNET AVENUE: AVENUE OF GENDER/AVENUE OF POWER

seeming variation other than by the patterned density already mentioned, were flint tools (arrowheads and scrapers), pottery fragments (overwhelmingly Peterborough fabric which was red externally and black internally, and some Rinyo-Clacton and Beaker sherds) and sarsen stones and chips. However there was variation in other material between the ‘left’ and ‘right’ rows of holes and pits. At hole 10 was deposited the butt end of a Group VII axe, at hole 3 an axe fragment, and at hole 1 the cutting edge of a Group VII axe. Therefore approaching the Avebury circle alongside the left hand row of the West Kennet Avenue the equivalent of a whole axe is distributed between the holes that terminate with the cutting edge around position 30b. Now crossing the Avenue to the right hand side, the row of holes and pits recommences, but now with the grave of an adult man by stone 29a, then in pit 1 the skulls and vertebrae of ox and pig and antler of red and roe deer, followed by an ox tooth in hole 9 and the long bones of ox and pig and red deer brow tine in pit 2. Further along the Avenue from this point on to stone 18b were three graves of adolescent boys and another man. The fragmented instrument of death and dismemberment was distributed in the left hand row and precedes, in this direction, the deposition of distributed boys, men and animal remains in the right hand row. The point of transformation hinges around position 30b – the area where the greatest density of cutting flint was concentrated. Therefore symbols, instruments and products of blood, death and dismemberment pivot around position 30b.

these holes and pits closely. Between stone 32b and position 29b the line of holes is parallel and close to the left hand side of the Avenue when approaching the Avebury circle, and at pair 29 the holes and pits run in a line and close to the right hand row ‘a’.3 Therefore between position 30b and stone 29a the lines of holes and pits switch Avenue rows from left to right when approaching Avebury circle. On the north-eastern side of stone 29a, the point where the line of holes and pits has switched from ‘left’ to ‘right’, an adult male was buried. Eight natural holes (holes 10, 8, 4, 3, 2, 7, 1 and 5) run alongside West Kennet Avenue from 32b to 29b, and two natural holes (11 and 9) between stone 29a and position 27a. Pits 1 and 2 were clearly dug to augment the smaller number of the ‘right’ hand line of holes, and by so doing the line of standing stones for this section of the Avenue was once replicated underground in the ‘Occupation Site’ holes and pits.4 The material deposited in these holes and pits was not domestic or ‘occupation’ waste. Across all of them, with no 3 Smith (1965) designates row ‘a’ as the left hand row and ‘b’ as the right hand row using the convention of leaving the Avebury circle towards the Sanctuary. For the purpose of this paper, and for reasons that will become clear, I am interpreting the data in the reverse direction of travel along West Kennet Avenue. 4 Over half of the holes and pits were lined with clay which had not been baked by the charcoal placed at most of their centres. Similarly some of the stones had been originally placed within a setting of clay, which the excavators suggested may have been a technique for checking the stability of the stone before its final securement.

53

LANDSCAPE IN MIND There was a further dimension of variability in these left and right rows of hole and pits. The charcoal cores within the holes and pits were composed of variable combinations of Hawthorn and Hazel and, to a lesser extent, Blackthorn, Oak and Elm wood. In Figure 1 it can be seen that, reading the holes and pits from left to right, there is a pattern in the changing proportions of woods that made up the charcoal. In the entire left hand row of holes leading up to position 30b, Hazel accounts for on average 67% of the charcoal and Hawthorn 25%, while the right hand row reverses the proportions so that Hawthorn accounts for on average 60% of the charcoal and Hazel 31%. There were additional deposits of Oak (6%) and Blackthorn (2%) in the left hand row and Blackthorn (7%) and Elm (2%) in the right hand row. A full taxonomy of the properties of these trees is beyond the scope of this paper, but we can narrow our inquiry to seek any properties of discontinuity that would inform our search for meaning in the division of the ‘Occupation Site’ at position 30b. Hazel blossoms in January, long before it leafs, while its nuts ripen from late August to October; Hawthorn’s white musky blossoms and leaves appear in May, while its deep red haws stay on the tree long after its leaves have dropped in early winter; Blackthorns’ sloes, which produce a strong red dye, appear in early winter, and its long sharp thorns deliver sceptic cuts while its blossoms and leaves appear in early spring. Hazel, Hawthorn and Elm are all closely associated with water, and Oak with lightning strikes and mistletoe. Clearly these combinations of charcoal woods afford a rich repertoire of allusions, but invariant to cultural manipulation are at least themes of wet and dry, water and fire, white and red, death and re-birth – all linked together in a seasonal round of decay, death and regrowth in a never-ending annual cycle. A componential analysis of the two taxonomies (Spradley 1979) of deposits and charcoal composition reveals common themes of female and male (left and right5), death (axe, arrowheads, blackthorns, adult male grave, animal remains), dismemberment (axe, scrapers, dismembered animal remains, red dye), blood (axe, cutting flints, red dye, animal remains) and resurrection (seasonal arboreal markers, walking south instead of north along the Avenue). Hazel’s winter dominance over Hawthorn on the left row is supplanted by Hawthorn’s May resurrection over Hazel on the right row, and each combination seems to guarantee the return of the other. This seeming need for diacritical combinations is reinforced by Oak’s summer combination with the Hazel’s winter, and Blackthorn’s winter combination with the Hawthorn’s promise of summer. The point of contrast in this charcoal portfolio is again the shift in its composition around position 30b. Therefore by synchronising the 29½ Avenue position with the local landscape idiosyncrasy of naturally occurring holes, ‘balancing’ by augmentation their distribution with artificial pits, concentrating surface deposition, arranging the ‘handedness’ of a line of holes and pits, having instruments of death counter-posed to human 5

and animal burial, and alluding to the recurring ‘birth’ and ‘death’ of linked woods in the deposited charcoal - by these and other devices the monument builders marked out a ritual focus on an area of the West Kennet Avenue where they chose not to place a standing stone. Our hypothesis that position 30b as a dark moon signifier is therefore strengthened by the evidence of archaeological site excavation, and forestalls the null hypothesis challenge that we are over-interpreting the lack of a stone 30b. What relevant theoretical models do we have for this finding? Models of gender From the evidence of the ‘Occupation Site’ we can now be confident that position 30b, where no stone was placed in the double row of West Kennet Avenue, marked a significant symbolic interval rather than an error of omission. We have two models that are immediately relevant – that suggested by the excavator’s hypothesis that paired pillars and lozenges represented male and female principles, and another suggested by my model of lunar/solar conflation (Sims 2006, 2007a, 2007b). The first model links the idea of fertility and death, birth and resurrection, to that of male and female stones representing heterosexual fecundity. While ‘marriage’ may not be the relevant term for the cultures of prehistoric monument builders, some form of heterosexual pairing is assumed by this model. This model conflates gender with sex.6 The second model predicts that gender was, in the initial situation, culturally constructed by scrambling sexual identity. Coalitionary females seclude themselves from their heterosexual partners by appropriating the symbolism of the hunt – affinity with animals, male sexuality and hunting weapons. By reversing the normal signals of animal mate recognition (right species, right sex, right time), a cooperating group of females constructed a gender of power masquerading as cross-dressing therianthropes. These signals last as long as secluding females need to motivate approaching heterosexual males to provide labour (hunting) services, but optimally would have been timed for the waxing period of the month from dark to full moon. Blood brothers, themselves experiencing exclusion from their own heterosexual partners, become close to their sisters, share their blood and red ochre, and so signal an enhanced ‘female’ aspect. Heterosexual identity is thus scrambled and disguised once women and men had both entered ritual power mode. Once the femaleled coalition had received the labour of ‘bride service’, ritual seclusion could be relaxed, and their heterosexual identity would be allowed to return – as ‘weak gender’ (Power & Aiello 1997, Power & Watts 1997, Power 2004). The gender of power model predicts that culture is organised around a sacred and profane division that coincides with the phases of the waxing and waning moon. While for Palaeolithic big game hunting cultures, this model predicts that power would 6

This model is also consistent with the modern western ‘gender’ paradigm. It is associated in anthropology with the work of Levi-Strauss and Ortner. See Power & Watts 1997 for discussion and references.

Hertz 1960.

54

LIONEL SIMS: WEST KENNET AVENUE: AVENUE OF GENDER/AVENUE OF POWER have been wielded by matrilineal coalitions of sisters and brothers, these coalitions would have collapsed with the mega-fauna extinctions by the epi-Palaeolithic. A long period of attrition of these systems during the Mesolithic would have replaced matrilineal clan leadership by some form of elite male rule. For ritual and collective life to continue, it fell to small elites of men to appropriate the ancient logic of lunar seclusion and blood magic to the new rhythms of pastoralism and agriculture (Knight 1991, Sims 2006). This model would predict that by the late Neolithic men must bleed and identify with the animal realm to mobilise ritual potency. While politically this would have been marked by substantial change, the ritual syntax would be invariant. In both systems, for example, whoever controls the point at which blood flows will monopolise ritual power. While in the first matrilineal system synchronising menstrual blood flow would be naturalistic, ludic and benign, by the time of the late Neolithic monument builders it will be artificial, authoritative and malign. The ethnographic record abounds with examples of the blood rituals of male initiation (Knight 1991; Buckley & Gottleib 1988). These anthropological claims challenge deeply rooted modern taboos, so perhaps it is important at this point to note that all the male burials along this part of the Avenue are placed at the feet of what has so far been identified as ‘female’ lozenge-shaped stones (29a, 25b, 18b), and are associated with animal remains.

shape, but the base to middle ratio is 1.3 whereas the same measure for stone 13b is 2.7. Lozenge stone 13b has a pronounced pointed and middle girth of over 3 metres, while that of 26b is less pointed and only 1.9 metres broad. Stone 13b rises to a finishing point, while 26b has a blunted flat top. By every objective measure 13b also outclasses stone 26b as the leading candidate for a lozenge ‘ideal’. In summary, stone pair 13 most fits the bill as an opposed pair of pillar and lozenge stones not, as claimed, pair 26. Yet the excavators found that no burials or other depositions were found between stone pairs 18 and 5. Contrary to the expectations of the ‘heterosexual gender’ model, the stereotypical pillar and lozenge paired stones are not marked out as worthy of votive deposition. It is a paradox of West Kennet Avenue that the greatest ritual elaboration took place around a position which was not marked by a standing stone and not around the largest and most spectacular pillar and lozenge shaped stones. The paradox is resolved by the gender of power model, which predicts that heterosexual identity, ‘weak gender’, is allowed to emerge around the time of full moon. Counting in from position 30b, which I have argued signifies dark moon, then stone pair 13 would be good candidates for West Kennet Avenue positions to signify full moon.7 It is precisely at this position that we have the most stereotypical surviving pillar and lozenge stones, grouped as pairs, which the gender of power model also predicts would signify male and female. This is in direct contradiction to the heterosexual model of gender, which would predict that these two stones ‘should’ be the focus for ritual elaboration such as we find at the ‘occupation site’. The absence of a stone at position 30b is also entirely consistent with a model which predicts that ritual power is mobilised around the period of dark moon, not full moon. It is at this point that the naturally occurring holes and pits open up the portals to the underworld (Thomas 1999), and these would be an appropriate symbolic marking of dark moon, since at this time the moon is culturally constructed as having entered into the underworld (Knight 1991). Therefore the gender of power model posits that stereotypical pillar and lozenge stones do represent male and female, and that this is precisely the identity at full moon when ritual power is relinquished.

The first heterosexual model of gender predicts ritual elaboration for heterosexual pairing or ‘marital’ celebration of fertility. The second gender of power model predicts in the initial cultural situation ritual elaboration of blood synchronous secluding females masquerading as male and animals which, by the late Neolithic, had been estranged from women and appropriated by elite men. The first model would expect a strong demarcation between male and female to be the symbolic focus for ritual, the second would expect the scrambling of sexual identity in an anti-heterosexual masquerade to be the route for ritual power. As these two models make diametrically opposite predictions for the sites and meanings of ritual elaboration, this simplifies the procedure for testing them against the available evidence. Testing the two gender models with the evidence of the West Kennet Avenue

Is there any other evidence that would confirm a repeating cycle of 29-30 stones or stone pairs which includes a bi-polar alternation between full (pillar/lozenge) and dark moon (missing stone)? With the level of destruction at Avebury this is difficult, but not hopeless. Although we have no indication of the shape of the now destroyed stone 76b ‘…it had been an exceptionally large stone…, [and stone] 77b had…[been] a much less massive one…’ (Smith 1965: 221). Since the stereotypical pillar and lozenge stone pair 13 are the largest extant stones of the Avenue, each over 3 metres above ground, then this is consistent with the expectation that at position 76b, 2 lunar cycles later, we would expect another

Smith suggested that stone pair 26 were stereotypical pillar (26a) and lozenge (26b). It is difficult to know how to respond to this claim, since it does not correspond to her criteria for these two stone types. The height of the ‘pillar’ 26a is 1.6 times greater than the base breadth, whereas the same measure for pillar 13a is 2.4. Pillar 13a has straight vertical and parallel sides with a markedly flat top, while the sides of stone 26a are uneven and bulbous. By the author’s own measures stone 13a far more fits the definition of a narrow quadrangular pillar than any other stone remaining in West Kennet Avenue. Stone 26b approximates to a diamond

7

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Dark and full moon each last 2-3 days.

LANDSCAPE IN MIND large pair of stones that may also have been pillar and lozenge. The search can be extended in the reverse direction into the Avebury circle. We have already established that one purpose of the circle was to provide a centre for a dark moon ritual at winter solstice (Sims 2007b) and that the West Kennet Avenue joins the southern entrance to the circle 30 stone pairs after the dark moon focus of the ‘occupation site’. Picking up the sequence from the entrance stones, and counting clockwise from the Great circle entrance stones we arrive at stone 46, the ‘Swindon Stone’ - the largest surviving lozenge stone of the Avebury monuments and 1½ lunar cycles in a clockwise direction from the ‘dark moon’ entrance stones of the circle. In both directions away from position 30b, southwards to stone 76b and north to the Avebury outer circle stone 46, we find some evidence for repeating cycles which identify heterosexual ‘weak gender’ converging with the ossified representations of full moon – stereotypical lozenges or pillars.

gender of power model, in contrast, would expect representations of ambiguity and amalgamation for both ‘male’ and ‘female’ stones, all anchored around bi-polar cycles of dark moon androgyny and full moon heterosexual identity. In this expectation, can a model of the waxing and waning moon as a template for the alternation between sacred and profane be helpful for interpreting the remaining stones? If ‘gender’ is represented along West Kennet Avenue by stone position and shape, and if male is to female as pillar is to lozenge, what shapes and positions might signify the androgynous ‘gender of power’? Rather than allow any misshapen stone as evidence, we can construct a scale of predicted intermediate shapes from the defining criteria of pillar and lozenge. A minimum of two criteria are required to make the distinction between pillar and lozenge – ratio of middle breadth to top and bottom breadths and pointed or flat tops, bottoms and middle extremeties. Since the gender of power predicts the mutability of sexual identity, in which females take on male characteristics and males take on female characteristics, then we would predict that insofar as the West Kennet Avenue is an avenue of gender and power, stones will metamorphose between pillar and lozenge by reversing the ratios of their middle girth and the sharpness of points of their tops, bottoms and middles. At the limit of these metamorphoses, a lozenge that has equalled its top and bottom breadth with that of its middle and lost its pointed top and bottom, has become a quadrangular slab. Similarly once a pillar is as tall as it is broad, it has ceased to become a pillar and is now also a quadrangular slab. The limits of each type of stone’s metamorphosis converge to identity. In between these formal limits we would predict blunted, fattened lozenges and fattened bulbous pillars. The gender of power and lunar-solar conflation models would also predict that the shapes of intermediate stones will follow an order along the course of the West Kennet Avenue, just as we have already found an order in stereotypical pillar/lozenge combinations and positions with missing stones. As a quadrangular slab is both an anti-pillar and anti-lozenge, as limiting forms for both at the other end of the cycle, we would predict that they would be paired and located close to ritually significant dark moon positions. Between paired quadrangular slabs and pillars paired with lozenges, we would expect to find intermediate stone forms with varying degrees of pointed extremities and middle girth ratios. The model can be refuted if slabs are found to be associated with full moon locations or symbolism and if we do not find mediating stones close to dark moon locations.

We have accounted for the shape and size of stones at the limits of the gender cycle – heterosexual identity at full moon and power identity at dark moon. What are we to make of the remaining stones? The heterosexual model of gender has already been shown to be of little help in this regard. The expectation of alternating pairs of pillars and lozenges across and along the Avenue, as an unchanging Avenue of heterosexual fertility and power, has been shown to have no basis in the evidence. Not just in their arrangement, but the definition of West Kennet Avenue standing stones as pillars and lozenges correctly identifies only half of the stones8 and arguably, according to a more nuanced approach to be developed below, for only four out of the 26 stones between positions 13 and 37.9 So far we have interpreted just two stones (pair 13) and one position (30b) for the northern section of the West Kennet Avenue by the gender of power model. This model predicts that gender is constructed between two polar extremes. One extreme, which we are familiar with in the modern west, is the profane ‘weak gender’ of heterosexual identity. At West Kennet Avenue we have found this is represented in stone by a large pillar and a large lozenge. The other extreme is the ‘power gender’ - a crossgendered performative achievement ambiguously merging the identity of both sexes. At position 30b the lack of a stone is associated with the underground deposition of killing and cutting tools, arboreal markers for an annual round of ‘death’ and ‘resurrection’ and the burial of an adult man and animals with other votive deposits. If West Kennet Avenue is a row of stones representing the movement between these two identities, what changing properties of Avenue stone could represent the metamorphosis between these two extremes? The heterosexual model of gender would expect that any stone which diverged from the two forms of pillar and lozenge would be anomalous and randomly located. The

Much of these predictions are borne out by the stones of West Kennet Avenue. Stones 33a and 33b are two paired and large near-quadrangular stones of near identical size.10 Intriguingly, as can be seen in Plate 1, each is shaped as the

8

10

Pillars: 13a, 15b, 16b, 26a, 35a, 36a; Lozenges: 13b, 18b, 26b, 29b, 34a, 35b, 37b, 37a. 9 Pillars: 13a, 15b; Lozenges: 13b, 37a.

The measurements for 33a/33b are in metres: height 2.78/2.76 above present ground level; base width 2.63/2.36; middle width 2.94/2.76; top width 2.2/2.76.

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LIONEL SIMS: WEST KENNET AVENUE: AVENUE OF GENDER/AVENUE OF POWER inverse of the other, one with a notch on its top-right and the other on the bottom left. Their sides are regular enough to allow the stones to be erected on one of their corners and so become substantial lozenges. Why not erect them as lozenges other than to depart from this possible appearance? This just leaves the possibility that erected on their sides they become flattened lozenges that can equally mutate from and into flattened pillars. To further test this claim, even though we have no other stones of similar shape in the Avenue, we can look to other stones within the Avebury circle. The entrance stone 1 of the Great circle is a quadrangular slab and stone 12 is a lozenge. These shapes are consistent with our expectation that the first position is in the area which should signify dark moon and the second area full moon. Stone 26a is a pillar, but with a base breadth of 1.7 metres to a height of 2.72 metres it is extremely broad, with a height to base breadth ratio of 1.6. The same ratios for the other eight pillars in this section of the West Kennet Avenue are all more pillar-like than this.11 Two points can be made. The placement of the ‘pillar-slab’ 26a is closer to position 30b than all of the ‘slab-pillars’, and with the exception of 15a the further away they are from position 30b and closer to pair 13 the more pillar-like they become. One vertical side of stone 15a would be appropriate for a broad pillar but the dramatic inward slope of its other side brings its top to a rough point. Looked at this way it becomes an ambiguous pillar that bears traces of a lozenge, as also do 18a and 32b. On inspection, by the criteria of shape, all of the stones have this ‘androgynous’ property of a slablozenge or pillar-slab except stones 13a, 13b, 15b, 16b, and 37a, and these stones are outside the region of the Avenue we would expect to signify the waxing phase. By the criteria of shape alone, therefore, we can find evidence in the form of the stones for androgynous ambiguity between the pillar and lozenge shapes for many intermediate stones between the dark moon and full moon lunar limits. It is stones within these liminal zones that we find grinding and sharpening grooves for flint or stone axes – 32a and 19b in the Avenue and stones 24 and 31 of the outer circle in Avebury. Outside these zones we find no artefacts or pottery shards between stone pairs 25 and 5. At the limits of these zones while some stones seem to fit the pillar/lozenge dichotomy, they are either paired with stones that do not (pairs 15, 18, 32, 37), or they are deep red (stones 37a and 31a). The builders have chosen to position the stones so that the closer they are to position 30b the greater they ambiguously combine the properties of pillar and lozenge shapes. Consistent with this interpretation is that from stones 35 to 18, moving from the dark moon signifier of position 30b, the Avenue route is uphill, and then from the full moon signifier of pair 13 the Avenue descends towards the entrance to the Avebury circle southern entrance, and to the centre of a winter solstice dark moon ritual (also Sims 2007b).

stereotypically are pillar and lozenge. Adopting the most generous definitions for these shapes, we can find six examples of pillars and eight of lozenges along the reconstructed northern section of the West Kennet Avenue. That accounts for just over half of the 26 extant stones of the reconstructed Avenue. All other stone shapes cannot be accounted for by these criteria, and commentaries frequently ignore these other ‘anomalous’ stones. In contrast, the gender of power model provides an interpretation for every shape of stone in the avenue. Seen this way each stone shape adds meaning to the Avenue. However, within these changing forms, the stones also vary according to height and landscape context. The surviving stones approaching position 30b are all small in height (32a-1.7m, 32b-1.78m, 31a-1.78m), and of the 137 logically possible inter-alignments between the 25 pairs of stones 13 of them afford an alignment where the foresight for a late Neolithic observer coincides with the height of the background horizon. This strongly suggests that these stone types are being selected for some form of horizon ‘astronomy’. To test this hypothesis and its possible relationship to the findings of this paper will be the purpose of a following paper.

As a provisional summary of the findings so far, the heterosexual model of gender seeks to find stone shapes that

Buckley, T. and Gottleib, A. (1988), Blood Magic: The Anthropology Of Menstruation (London: University of California Press)/

11

Conclusion What was once an imposing spectacle of a double row of 98100 paired stones from the Sanctuary to the Avebury circle has been found to represent dark moon at position 30b. The long-held suspicion that pillar and lozenge shaped stones along the West Kennet Avenue, and within the Avebury circle, represent male and female properties has been confirmed in this paper. This support, however, has only been gained by rejecting those earlier views that properties of heterosexual fertility were also bracketed with the Avenue stones’ meanings. Contrary to the assumptions of heterosexual fertility, ritual power is focussed on those stones that metamorphose pillar and lozenge shapes or are marked by a ritually significant hole rather than a standing stone. These properties are found to be consistent with a theory of ‘gender of power’ that views heterosexual pillars and lozenges as examples of ‘weak gender’. This ethnographically-informed model is consistent with a theory of lunar-solar conflation that views the monuments of late Neolithic and Early Bronze Age Europe as centres of male-led ritual that time rituals for the longest darkest night – predictably guaranteed by double alignments on solstice sunsets and lunar standstills. The archaeoastronomy of this claim will be further tested and elaborated for the West Kennet Avenue in a second following paper.

References

13a-2.4, 15a-1.7, 15b-2.3, 16b-2.0, 18a-2.5, 19b-2.0, 35a-2.5, 36a-2.3.

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LANDSCAPE IN MIND Burl, A. (2002), Prehistoric Avebury (London: Yale University Press). Dames, M. (1996), The Avebury Cycle (London: Thames and Hudson). Keiller & Piggot (1936), The Recent Excavations at Avebury, Antiquity 10, 417-27. Hertz, R. (1960), Death and the Right Hand (New York: Free Press). Knight, C. (1991), Blood Relations: Menstruation and the Origins of Culture (London: Yale University Press). Murray, L. J. (2000), Alexander Keiller and the Wessex Monuments. 3rd Stone, 37: 29-31. Newham (1972). The Astronomical Significance of Stonehenge. (Leeds). North, J. (1996), Stonehenge: Neolithic Man and the Cosmos (London: Haper Collins). Pitts, M. (2000), Hengeworld (London: Arrow Books). Power, C. & L.C. Aiello (1997), Female proto-symbolic strategies. In Women in human evolution (ed.) L. Hager. (London: Routledge). Power, C. and I. Watts (1997), The Woman With The Zebra’s Penis: Gender, Mutability and Performance. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute (N.S.) 3, 537-560. Power, C. (2004), Women in Prehistoric Art. In G. Berghaus (ed.), New Perspectives on Prehistoric Art (Westport, C/T London: Praeger). Sims, L.D. (2006) ‘The ‘solarization’ of the moon: manipulated knowledge at Stonehenge’, Cambridge Archaeological Journal 16:2 191-207. Sims, L. D. (2007a), What is a lunar standstill? Problems of accuracy and validity in ‘the Thom paradigm’ Mediterranean Archaeology & Archaeometry 7:1, in press. Sims, L.D. (2007b), Entering, and returning from, the underworld: Silbury Hill – where archaeoastronomy meets landscape archaeology. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Society (submitted). Smith, I. (1965), Windmill Hill and Avebury (Oxford: Clarendon Press). Spradley, J.P. (1979), The Ethnographic Interview (London: Harcourt Brace). Stone, J.F.S. (1958), Wessex Before The Celts (London: Thames and Hudson). Thom, A. & Thom, A.S. (1976), Avebury (2) The West Kennet Avenue, Journal of the History of Astronomy 7, 193-7. Thomas, J. (1999), Understanding the Neolithic (London: Routledge). Ucko, P., Hunter, M., Clark, A.J. and David, A. (1991), Avebury Reconsidered: From the 1660’s to the 1990’s (London: Unwin Hyman). Whittle, A. (1996), Europe in the Neolithic: The Creation of New Worlds (Cambridge: UP).

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Terra Sapiens. How Landscape Invented Man Matteo Meschiari which merit a re-reading from a ‘landscape’ point of view, such as those on the ‘savage mind’ (Lévi-Strauss 1962), the ‘pattern which connects’ (Bateson 1979) or the ‘rhizome’ (Deleuze and Guattari 1980). The aim is to delineate an anthropological model in which the concept of landscape is no longer the historical by-product of a given culture, but rather the trace of a trans-historic and universal cultural paradigm which, rooted in our biology and our cognitive structures, continues to cyclically and locally emerge, helping us to process complex realities.

1. Present Pleistocene The idea of landscape was not born with Petrarch on Mount Ventoux or during the Renaissance with Flemish painters, just as Henry Ford and Armand Peugeot did not invent the wheel. Landscape as a symbolic form is, rather, an innate way of thinking, an intertwining of cerebral and cognitive structures shaped over the course of hundreds of millennia by the sensory experiences of hominids and Homo sapiens sapiens in their respective ecosystems. Some researchers prefer in this case to talk about proto-landscape (Berque 1995), or simply environment, territory or ecosystem, reserving the term landscape for the intentional and strictly cultural prerogative that characterizes the human-nature relationship. But to avoid from the outset the ‘false opposition between nature and culture, source of pernicious misunderstandings’, it must be observed that ‘the difference between transformed objective reality [culture] and untransformed objective reality [nature] is debatable; even untransformed objective reality, insofar as it is experienced, thus represented, is the product of a transformation’ (Buttitta 1996: 16). In other words, when perceived by humans, the land is already a representation, and moving from synchrony to diachrony, we can assert that the idea of landscape has existed at least since Homo sapiens sapiens made his appearance.

2. When hominids and Homo thought about the earth Evoking Ardipithecus kadabba (6 m.y.a.) or Australopithecus afarensis (4-2.5 m.y.a.) in a discussion about landscape makes sense for at least two reasons: on the one hand, we are given to considering as an appanage of humankind a whole series of faculties whose biological roots are in fact much more ancient; on the other, our cognitive system was formed over the course of millions of years of evolution in response to an ecosystem and to living conditions that no longer exist. Even when we design the latest microchip we are using cognitive tools originally developed for solving different problems, such as distinguishing a predator among nocturnal shadows (perception-representation), following the tracks of an animal (induction-abstraction), or organizing a group hunt (prediction-deduction). Shepard maintains in particular that the link between humans of 40,000 years ago and contemporary humans is the biology that they share, but this common biology is not only anatomical and physiological, but also neuropsychological and behavioral: the primary mental structures are the same as 40,000 years ago, and even though a few millennia of urban history have led humans to invent innumerable social, ideological and cosmological models, the need for a social structure based on an ideology and a cosmology is the product of a genetic heritage shaped in the Pleistocene.

To neglect this long-term perspective in a discussion about landscape would be to misunderstand the fundamental phenomena that control our way of relating to the environment. Paleoecology, primatology, physical anthropology, sociobiology, cognitive ecology, paleoethnology, comparative ethnology and ethnolinguistics all help us to reconstruct the historical context (phylogenetic, ontogenetic and cultural) of the co-evolution of humans and the environment. The idea is to look for the biological and cultural background in every statement about the environment, because reconstructing our ecological prehistory means understanding that modern man, before a panorama, is not only a Homo aestheticus of refined intellectual options, but also the unknowing heir to a wealth of innate cognitive structures that date back to the Pleistocene, and that show vital traces of the neuropsychological and symbolic particularities of the Paleolithic hunter-gatherers. This idea has already been well developed by Paul Shepard (1998) in his book The Tender Carnivore and the Sacred Game, the text that inspired my research and whose ideas I would like to explore in connection with more recent studies, such as those by Steven Mithen (1996, 1998, 2006) or David Lewis-Williams (2002) on the origins of the mind, or with more classical studies

It was, in fact, during this period that the principal human physical characteristics (size, anatomy, metabolism, sexual dimorphism and behavior, brain size, neoteny, etc.) developed in connection with social, ecological and technological factors: our body and our mind were formed in a world of hunter-gatherers. To a few dozen centuries of official history, we must compare two million years in which Homo lived hunting and gathering, two million years in which the ecosystem genetically determined our physical and mental structures and, through selective pressures, reinforced and specialized our innate behaviors. The eye, for example, which has a particularly acute connection with the 59

LANDSCAPE IN MIND environment (and which has a 70 million year history), was formed in an arboreal context where the verticality of the trunks and the horizontality of the branches and the ground were the dominant coordinates of perception and ambulation for the prosimians. Shepard says:

signs that saturate the environment, was vital for humans whose survival depended solely on their own aptitude. Ethnobiology and folkbiology study the ways of conceptualizing, classifying and organizing zoological and botanical knowledge in a given culture (Ellen 2006b; Atran and Medin 1999, 2008). Nevertheless, beyond plant and animal competence, we must contemplate the no less vital expertise that human societies may have developed in regard to the inanimate parts of the land (Sillitoe 1996), such as the shapes, dynamics, and physical components (water, minerals, soils) of the landscape, and which we could name as a whole ‘folkgeology’. Every human society, thus, has developed a personal reading of its own ecosystem and, cultural diversity notwithstanding, it is possible to hypothesize a common genetic background: perhaps these are innate conceptual forms, the fruit of an environmental selection that is expressed with cultural variations in every society, and which functions as a powerful inductive filter for interpreting nature (Atran 1990; Ellen 2006a). The study of childhood and adolescence among modern hunter-gatherers has shown, among other things, that the long ecological apprenticeship of an individual, as well as including lists of plants and animals (and their taxonomic organization), always unfolds in a specific place: landscape on the whole is a playground that serves as a schematic model for technical, linguistic and social intelligence (Hewlett and Lamb 2005).

Perhaps our esthetic feeling for symmetry and balance, our inclination to abstract the vertical and horizontal lines and to follow them with our eyes, belongs to the following of trunks and limbs, first with bodies and then by sitting and looking (Shepard 2002: 5). According to Steven Mithen (1996), Australopithecus (from 4.5 m.y.a), Homo habilis (2 m.y.a.) and Homo erectus (1.8 m.y.a) already possessed a social intelligence, that is, cognitive processes specialized for group strategies, and could rely on specific cognitive modules for foraging and memorizing the spatial distribution of resources (which Mithen calls ‘natural history intelligence’ and which I suggest calling ‘ecological intelligence’). Such types of specialized intelligence were perhaps connected with social intelligence used for creating group strategies aimed at sustenance. In the case of Homo, the first evidence of stone tools points to a true technical intelligence because he was capable of selectively recognizing the acute angles in a stone nodule, he had perfect hand-eye coordination and he knew how to calibrate exactly the force and the direction of a strike. Mithen asserts:

Is it therefore possible to hypothesize a ‘cognitive landscape’, that is, a neuro-cultural structure modeled on the ecosystem and its spatial and dynamic qualities? If in western society the model of the mind seems to imitate urban structure (it is no coincidence that Mithen uses the metaphor of the cathedral), in hunting-gathering societies the landscape model is evident. Take for example ‘sacred ecology’, or the development of ritual and mythical structures that guarantee and perpetuate behaviors intended for a sustainable use of natural resources (Berkes 1999; Menzies 2006; Harkin and Rich Lewis 2007). Or consider the elaborate eco-ideological systems among the Koyukon of Alaska:

Both the production of stone tools and the regular exploitation of animal carcasses are likely to have required specialized cognitive processes of a type absent from the chimpanzee mind. H. habilis appears to have been able to understand the fracture dynamics of stone and to have constructed hypotheses about resource distributions (Mithen 1996: 112). As for the intelligence of Homo sapiens sapiens, Mithen observes that the leap, even before the advent of language, is to be attributed to the cognitive fluidity between the social, technical and ecological modules, which led to the development of complex mental strategies. In juxtaposition to this ‘cathedral model’ (where each specialized module is a ‘chapel’ connected to the ‘nave’ of general intelligence), I would like to suggest a ‘landscape model’.

Human behavior toward natural entities is governed by spiritually based rules. Hundreds of such rules have been transmitted through Koyukon tradition, affecting the entire range of human interactions with nature. Their basic purpose is to show respect, or avoid disrespect, for all natural entities, in accordance with a code of etiquette and morality (Nelson 1983: 229).

3. Folkecology and the ‘landscape mind’ The term ‘folkecology’, used in a restrictive fashion to define ‘how people understand and utilize interactions between plants, animals, and humans’ (Atran et al. 1999: 7598), can be used in a global sense to define what I called ecological intelligence, or a dynamic intertwining of various naturalistic skills. Not so long ago (and still today in certain cultures), knowing how to read the landscape was a matter of life and death: knowledge of the land, edible species, the behavior of game, seasonal changes, in short the thousands of ecological

And Shepard observes: For hunting-gathering people the natural environment is firm. The kin structure is stable because the individual is born or initiated into a group as durable as the plant or animal species taken by it as a totemic emblem (Shepard 1998: 132).

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MATTEO MESCHIARI: TERRA SAPIENS. HOW LANDSCAPE INVENTED MAN

FIGURE 1: THE LANDSCAPE MIND THEORY (LMT): THE HUMAN MIND AND ESPECIALLY ITS ECOLOGICAL COMPETENCES ARE SPATIALLY ORGANIZED. CERTAIN INNATE COGNITIVE PROCESSES OF HOMO SAPIENS SAPIENS AND THE CULTURAL KNOWLEDGE OF HUNTER-GATHERERS ARE MOULDED ON THE LANDSCAPE AS A NATURAL MATRIX OF THOUGHT.

Even society, therefore, can be thought of and organized in terms of the ecosystem, while the construction itself of the sacred has been predetermined by innate systems of knowledge and environmental mapping. Natural religion— meaning fundamental, common modes of turning to the supernatural—does not develop in a vacuum, but rather through adaptation to a specific landscape (Burkert 1996).

limited to the specific area of deictics, nor to that of morphemes of the verbal aspect linked to action, but it spreads across the entire language. It is, therefore, the spatial-temporal perception of reality that structures knowledge (Tersis 1996: 75). In this sense ethnolinguistics is an indispensable tool for gathering universal and particular features of the cognitive processes of various human societies, or for reconstructing those of peoples whose ethnological context has been lost. One of the most relevant examples is given by the Paleolithic Continuity Theory (Alinei 1996-2000), whose systematic application in the field of linguistic anthropology (Costa 2007a, 2008) has enabled us to reconstruct certain cognitive processes that would have otherwise been unattainable, such as the system of taxonomic and ideological classification of plants and animals in prehistoric Europe (Ballester 2006b) or the recognition of shamanic modes of perception in ancient and medieval European literature (Benozzo 2007a).

But consider also the eloquent phenomenon by which space, territory and landscape are incorporated into linguistic structures: ‘space must have been a theme of capital importance in Paleolithic hunting-gathering cultures, as the analogy with historically known societies of hunter-gatherers would at least seem to suggest’ (Ballester 2006a: 23). This is the case, for example, in the Apache language, in which placenames not only procure a descriptive hypostasis of the site, but also ‘implicitly identify positions for viewing these locations: optimal vantage points, so to speak, from which the sites can be observed, clearly and unmistakably, just as their names depict them’ (Basso 1996: 89). Or take the case of the Inuit language:

4. Mapping the ‘landscape mind’

The dynamic of the space-time relationship appears at the very foundation of the elementary and conceptual structuring of the Inuit language of eastern Greenland. In other words, the spatial and temporal imprint is not

In this project of wide scope in both time (geological, evolutionistic, paleolinguistic, paleoethnological) and space (geographical, biological, ethnolinguistic, ethnographic), the possibilities for more detailed research are many. However, 61

LANDSCAPE IN MIND there are a few areas that I feel beg further investigation: primatology, paleoanthropology and neuropsychology (Golledge 1999; Dehaene, Duhamel, Hauser and Rizzolatti 2005; Dehaene et al. 2006), to study the cognitive evolution that led to the formation of spatial skills in Homo sapiens sapiens (way-finding, mapping, topological thought, intuitive geometry); cynegetic phenomenology, i.e. hunting and predation as a cognitive model (Lee and De Vore 1968; Frison 2004), examining in particular the metaphoricalmetonymical connection between animal anatomy, earth anatomy and social anatomy; ‘folkgeology’, or the inductive sciences of the Earth in traditional societies; ‘sacred ecology’, and the numerous ethnographic examples that describe the material and symbolic management of land; the languagelandscape connection, analyzing in detail the way in which geographical features are imprinted on linguistic structures; prehistoric rock art, for cognitive models that underlie the spatial representation of the signs and animals depicted, as much as their connection with the natural landscape (Steinbring et al. 1992; Faulstich 1997; Nash and Chippindale 2002; Chippindale and Nash 2004); the landscape roots of religious behavior, along with what Bradley (2000) defines as the ‘archeology of natural places’. As an example, I would like to examine in greater detail three of these possibilities.

operative categories that form a grid which conditions the perception of geographical space as a whole, and which expresses, beyond a geographical knowledge, a ‘wisdom of the land’ (Collignon 1996: 149). Between the example of the primates and that of the Inuit (two apparently unrelated cognitive systems analyzed from a synchronic point of view), it may be interesting to examine the diachronic-evolutionary dimension, analyzing the spatial behavior of the hominids. Studying the variability and spatial density of the rare archeological evidence left by early Homo (in this particular case animal remains and stone tools), it is possible to formulate a few hypotheses on the connection between spatial strategies of sustenance and cognitive structures. In particular it has been observed that, despite the lack of true base camps, there existed places that were repeatedly exploited in a rotating system of foraging (Lake 1998). We do not have at our disposal the evidence to state whether this behavior was a result of a mere physiological predisposition or of an authentic psychological creativity, but in either case we can recognize a spatial conceptuality at work, which presupposes cognitive faculties superior to those of an ape. 2) What links the body of an animal dissected by the blade of an ancient hunter, the body of that same animal depicted on the walls of a cave more than 30,000 years ago, the body of the hunter, who knows how to kill, paint and tell about the animal, the hollow body of the cave, full of signs, images and narrations, the enlarged body of a group of men, women and children, and finally the body of the Earth, which encompasses bodies animate and inanimate, human and nonhuman, material and immaterial, individual and social? The Scandinavian myth of the giant Ymir, from whose decomposing body the Earth was formed, or Leonardo da Vinci’s proto-geology, which represents the world in terms of terrestrial physiology, the slogan of the geographer Elisée Reclus, for whom ‘Man is Nature that becomes aware of itself’ (Reclus 1905-1908: vol. I, 1), or James Lovelock’s Gaia theory (1988), according to which the Earth is a living system capable of self-regulating like a unique planetary organism, are all examples of how the metaphorical confusion between biological body and geological body opens a whole range of heuristic possibilities that are more or less fertile, more or less convincing.

1) It has been observed that certain primates can follow a bird in flight to find food sources, and various studies have demonstrated that many species of monkeys and apes are capable of constructing mental maps of a given territory, thanks to an elaborate spatial memory and to predictive and decision-making processes honed for solving problems of foraging and orientation (Strier 2007). On the human side, there exist numerous ethnographic examples in which the geographical skills of way-finding and mapping seem to exceed western cognitive capabilities (Conkey 1984; Morphy 1991; Zvelebil 1997; Nazarea 1999; Nabokov 2006). Certain collections of maps drawn by the Inuit, for example, illustrate a capacity for a particularly detailed mental representation of the land. This inductive cartography originates from hunters’ extreme frequentation of the territory: ecological knowledge of place, solicited by the presence or the lack of food sources (fishing zones, caribou crossings, etc.), produces mental maps in which the abundance or the scarcity of food determines sensitive alterations of scale in the drawing. However, ‘the enlargement of the hunting domain seems to spring from the draughtsman’s acquaintance with these areas, rather than from any deliberate attempt to invoke sympathetic magic’ (Spink and Moodie 1972: 19). This complex geographical knowledge is the result of a combination of many factors:

Is it a matter, however, of cultural and polygenetic invention, or is it, rather, an innate cognitive model whose roots extend into human prehistory? A little-known study on the acquisition of anatomical knowledge by ancient man suggested to Shepard the idea that animal anatomy was one of the first complex models for interpreting the world:

At the crossroads of cynegetic experience and oral tradition, its existence does not depend on the development of a particular knowledge but on an organized structure of its own knowledge. The geographical objects are gathered using

Indeed, the interiors of animals are wonderful, uncanny landscapes, new regions as surely as the mountains and valleys beyond the horizon. ‘As man learned to learn,’ says 62

MATTEO MESCHIARI: TERRA SAPIENS. HOW LANDSCAPE INVENTED MAN into sign at every possible opportunity. The idea that landscape can be read, which is not only metaphorical, seems to have biological roots, probably because a morphological reading of the spatial configuration of the landscape and the ability to recognize recurrent types of landscape were indispensable tools of orientation in places that were unknown but somehow familiar (Rockman and Steele 2003). The innate neuropsychological matrix seems to be supported by the fact that, in much the same way that every member of the species has the tendency to recognize images in random shapes such as clouds or ink spots (Guthrie 1993), we can perceive familiarity in a never before seen landscape.

Laughlin in the book Social Life of Early Man, ‘he was learning anatomy. The early apprehension of anatomical form and function served to configure ancient man’s perception of the world. Anatomical form remains a salient organizing system even in cultural categorizations that have little or no apparent connection with anatomy. The organization of the mammalian body provides a basis for intellectual organization, and anatomical analogies and reasoning are found in all cultures’ (Shepard 1998: 193). Thus, it would seem that anatomical knowledge is yet another competence to be inserted into the complex framework of folkecology.

5. For a landscape-based anthropology Many ideas on landscape that we believe to be modern and western are nothing more than recent reinterpretations of an older and more complex biological-cultural framework: the tendency to interpret the world according to models derived from our experience of the body, the environment and the society in which we live has its origins in the very origins of the species, that is, in a time in which our physiology and our intellectual faculties were modeled by natural selection and environmental pressures. Thinking of the world as an organism or as ‘a system in which everything holds together’ (Saussure 1916) is not an intellectual discovery of nineteenth century Organicism or of twentieth century Structuralism. Rather, we must accept the idea that Organicism and Structuralism are the recent and conscious formalizations (parole) of an underlying and unconscious cognitive system (langue). The real question, then, is to understand how, when and why this system of reading reality as landscape was developed in Homo sapiens sapiens, and at the same time, to isolate the unifying tendencies and factors in the cultural diversification that characterizes the relationship between humans and nature.

3) Biosemiotics maintains that all living beings, from bacteria to humans, utilize organized systems of signs to communicate (Sebeok and Umiker-Sebeok 1992; Barbieri 2006). This communication is usually species-specific, that is, the message has meaning only among animals of the same species, but there are also involuntary signals that cross the boundaries of a single species: a herd of animals in a compact group or in dispersed order mean two entirely different things for the leopard that is preparing to hunt them. These messages can also come from the inanimate world: the spatial configuration of land (colors, shapes, lines) may signify nothing for a herd of caribou but, seen from above, can guide the migration of a flock of wild geese. In this natural semiosphere, humans and animals learn to communicate with and through the environment which, depending on the case, performs the functions of sender, message, channel and context. This hypersemiotic dimension of the landscape appears to be connected to a neuropsychological faculty of humans: the hemodynamic response that is observed through the functional Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI) in the brain of a person who is asked to read, demonstrates that there is a cerebral area (the Visual Word Form Area) that is activated during the recognition of the written word. Clearly this area did not evolve in conjunction with writing, but already existed well before and has simply been ‘recycled’ for reading signs. It is, in fact, the same area that, before the existence of writing, was used (and is still used today) in the recognition of faces, places and maybe animal tracks, responding to a principle of invariance that omits accidental, superfluous elements (Dehaene 2003). The repetitiveness of the morphological features of a landscape (infinite variations of finite typologies) gives the impression of a recurrence of forms beyond the dimension, shape and position of the objects. The omnipresence of writing in the modern age leads us to read meaning into the shapes that we learn to repeat or that we see repeated, but this inclination is reinforced by an innate tendency that is much more ancient: we expect meaning every time we recognize recurrence, correspondence or repeated forms, and we translate shape

In order to do this, we must develop a ‘landscape-based anthropology’ (Haenn and Wilk 2006), or in the global meaning that I have suggested, a folkecology. The idea is to analyze basic facts (body, environment, language) of prehistoric and traditional societies in order to illuminate the profound structures that, beyond the differences, are characteristic of the species. Moreover, to go from the facts (biological, ecological, linguistic and social) to the structures (cognitive, cosmological, poetic and kinship), we must concentrate on the representation of the former in various cultures to isolate the latter in Homo sapiens sapiens: we could call these fields of representation ‘bodyscape’, ‘earthscape’, ‘tonguescape’, and ‘socialscape’, respectively, emphasizing the fact that, as equidistant from the hard cold facts as they are from the abstract structures, they constitute for the researcher an analytical middle ground, an intellectual playground that lends itself to induction and synthesis. Bodyscape, earthscape, tonguescape and socialscape must be studied as functions of a whole, of an elaborate world view in 63

LANDSCAPE IN MIND which these elements exist only in a relational system where each one is defined by the others (Tamisari 2008; Meschiari 2008). At the same time, we must revisit certain traditional themes of anthropology such as myth, totemism, orality and kinship, in order to demonstrate that originally it was not the social model that, by analogical extension, determined the world view. Rather, it was the all-inclusive and extremely complex ecological model, which was omnipresent in the lives of early humans, that became the historical and logical primus of culture. In other words, more than a linguistic-cognitive, socio-cognitive or organic-cognitive model, it is the ‘eco-geocognitive model’ which, having become a global symbolic system very early, has dominated the history of Homo sapiens sapiens for more than 40,000 years.

2008. The Native Mind and the Cultural Construction of Nature. Cambridge: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press. Atran, S., Medin, D., Ross, N., Lynch, E., Coley, J., Ucan Ek’, E. and Vapnarsky, V. 1999. Folkecology and commons management in the Maya lowlands. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, U.S.A., 96: 7598-7603. Ballester, X. 2006a. In Principio Era il Dimostrativo. Quaderni di semantica, 27: 13-30. 2006b. Zoónimos ancestrales. Ocho ensayos de Antropología linguistica. Valencia: Generalitat Valenciana. Barbieri, M. (ed.), 2006. Introduction to Biosemiotics. The New Biological Synthesis. Berlin: Springer. Basso, K. H. 1996. Wisdom Sits in Places. Landscape and Language among the Western Apache. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Bateson, G. 1979. Mind and Nature. A Necessary Unity. New York: Dutton. Benozzo, F. 2007a. La tradizione smarrita. Le origini non scritte delle letterature romanze. Roma: Viella. 2007b. La flora, la fauna, il paesaggio: l’importanza dei nomi dialettali per la conoscenza del passato preistorico. In: Benozzo, F. (ed), Dizionario del dialetto di San Cesario sul Panaro, vol. II, La vita nei campi: flora, fauna, attività agricole. San Cesario sul Panaro: Amministrazione Comunale: 7-40. Berkes, F. 1999. Sacred Ecology. Traditional Ecological Knowledge and Resource Management. Philadelphia: Tylor & Francis. Berque, A. 1995. Les raisons du paysage. De la Chine antique aux environnements de synthèse. Paris: Hazan. Bradley, R. J. 2000. An Archaeology of Natural Places. London-New York: Routledge. Burkert, W. 1996. Creation of the Sacred. Tracks of Biology in Early Religions. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1996. Buttimer, A. and Seamon, D. (eds) 1980. The Human Experience of Space and Place. London: Croom Helm. Chippindale, C. and Nash, G. 2004. The Figured Landscapes of Rock-Art: Looking at Pictures in Place. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Collignon, B. 1996. Les Inuit. Ce qu’ils savent du territoire. Paris: L’Harmattan. Conkey, M. W. 1984. To find ourselves: Art and social geography of prehistoric hunter-gatherers. In: Scurire, C. (ed), Past and present in hunter-gatherers studies. New York: Academic Press: 253-276. Cornillac, G. 1996. La dynamique du mot inuit ou la reconnaissance d’un processus cognitif. In : Tersis, N. and Therrien, M. (eds), La dynamique dans la langue et la culture inuit. Paris: Editions Peeters: 75-93. Cosgrove, D. 1984. Social Formation and Symbolic Landscape. London: Croom Helm.

To temporarily conclude, it can be said that the cognitive structures described by folkbiology, the complex eco-cultures of the hunter-gatherers, inductive geography from the Inuit to the Australian aboriginals, the numerous cases of the inclusion of landscape in language, and the ritual and mythical systems profoundly encoded in a specific place, are all strong arguments for the hypothesis of a cognitive system in Homo sapiens sapiens that is modeled directly on (and by) the ecosystem, whose sensory manifestation is landscape. Perhaps Gregory Bateson’s ‘ecology of the mind’ should be taken literally: landscape, with its spatial configuration, its relationship between parts and the whole, and its internal dynamism, has been imprinted on the cognitive structures of humans. Alongside theories of the mind such as Fodor’s modular model (1983), Mithen’s cathedral model (1996), or Lewis-Williams’ neuropsychological model (2002), we can hypothesize a ‘landscape model’, which by emphasizing the central role of the ecosystem, helps us to interpret the history of human cognitive processes in a new light. *An Italian version of this article was published in the review Quaderni di semantica, 57, 2008: 149-162. The Italian text, as well as quotations from sources in French and Italian, was translated by Ann Kilgo. The author would like to thank wildlife ecologist John C. Kilgo and primatologist Alison Grand for their helpful advice.

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MATTEO MESCHIARI: TERRA SAPIENS. HOW LANDSCAPE INVENTED MAN Costa, G. 2007a. Pragmatica e tradizione nell’etnolinguistica. Quaderni di Semantica, 28, 1: 203-214. 2007b. Sciamanismo indeuropeo. In: Corradi Musi, C. (ed), Simboli e miti della tradizione sciamanica. Bologna: Carattere: 85-95. 2008. La sirena di Archimede. Etnolinguistica comparata e tradizione preplatonica. Alessandria: Edizioni dell’Orso. Dehaene, S. 2003. Les bases cérébrales d’une acquisition culturelle : la lecture. In: Changeux, J.-P. (ed), Gènes et Culture. Enveloppe génétique et variabilité culturelle. Paris: Odile Jacob: 187-199. Dehaene, S., Duhamel, J.R., Hauser, M. and Rizzolatti, G. (ed) 2005. From Monkey Brain to Human Brain. A Fyssen Foundation Symposium. Cambridge, MA: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press. Dehaene, S., Izard, V., Pica, P. and Spelke, E. 2006. Core Knowledge of Geometry in an Amazonian Indigene Group. Science, 311: 381-384. Deleuze, G. and Guattari F. 1980. Mille plateaux. Paris: Les Editions de Minuit. Translated as: A Thousand Plateaus. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1987. D’Errico, F. and Backwell, L. (eds) 2005. From Tools to Symbols: From Early Hominids to Modern Humans. Johannesburg: Wits University Press. Duranti, A. 2007. Etnopragmatica. La forza nel parlare. Roma: Carocci. Ellen, R. F. 2006a. The Categorical Impulse. Essays on the Anthropology of Classifyng Behavior. Oxford: Berghahn Books. Ellen, R. F. 2006b. Ethnobiology and the Science of Humankind. Oxford: Blackwell. Faulstich, P. 1997. Rock Art as Visual Ecology. Tucson: American Rock Art Research Association. Feld, S. and Basso, K. (eds) 1996. Senses of Place. Santa Fe: School of American Research Press. Fodor, J. 1983. The Modularity of Mind. Cambridge, MA: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press. Frison, G. C. 2004. Survival by Hunting. Prehistoric Human Predators and Animal Prey. Berkeley: University of California Press. Golledge, R. G. (ed) 1993. Wayfinding Behavior. Cognitive Mapping and Other Spatial Processes. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press. Guthrie, S. E. 1993. Faces in the Clouds. A New Theory of Religion. New York-Oxford: Oxford University Press. Haen, N. and Wilk, R. R. (eds) 2006. The Environment in Anthropology. A Reader in Ecology, Culture, and Sustainable Living. New York: New York University Press. Harkin, M.E. and Rich Lewis, D. (eds) 2007. Native Americans and Environment. Perspectives on the Ecological Indian. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press.

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LANDSCAPE IN MIND 2006. The Singing Neanderthals. The Origins of Music, Language, Mind and Body. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Morphy, H. 1991. Ancestral Connections. Art and an Aboriginal System of Knowledge. Chicago: Chicago University Press. Nabokov, P. 2006. Where the Lightning Strikes. The Lives of American Indian Sacred Places. New York: Viking. Nash, G. and Chippindale, C. (eds.), 2002. European Landscapes of Rock-Art. London-New York: Routledge. Nazarea, V. D. (ed) 1999. Ethnoecology. Situated Knowledge/Located Lives. Tucson: The University of Arizona Press. Nelson, R. K. 1983. Make Prayers to the Raven. A Koyukon View of the Northern Forest. Chicago-London: The University of Chicago Press. Panter-Brick, C., Layton, R. H. and Rowley-Conwy, P. (eds) 2001. Hunter-Gatherers. An Interdisciplinary Perspective. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pinker, S. 1994. The Language Instinct: How the Mind Creates Language. New York: Harper Collins. Reclus, E. 1905-1908. L’Homme et la Terre, 6 voll. Paris: Librairie Universelle. Rockman, M. and Steele, J. 2003. Colonization of Unfamiliar Landscapes. The Archaeology of Adaptation. London- New York: Routledge. Saussure, F. de 1916. Cours de linguistique générale. LausanneParis: Payot. Translated as: Course in General Linguistics. Glasgow: Fontana/Collins, 1977. Sebeok, T.A. and Umiker-Sebeok, J. (eds) 1992. Biosemiotics. The Semiotic Web 1991. Berlin and New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Shepard, P. 1998. The Tender Carnivore and the Sacred Game. Athens-London: The University of Georgia Press. 2002. Man in the Landscape. A Historic View of the Esthetics of Nature. Athens-London: The University of Georgia Press. Sillitoe, P. 1996. A Place Against Time. Land and Environment in the Papua New Guinea Highlands. Amsterdam: Harwood Academic Press. Smith, A.B. 1994. Metaphors of Space, Rock Art and territoriality in Southern Africa. In: Dowson, T. H. and Lewis-Williams, D. (eds.), Contested Images. Diversity in Southern African rock art research. Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press: 373-384. Spink, J. and Moodie, D. W. 1972. Eskimo Maps from the Canadian Eastern Artic. Toronto: University of Toronto Press (Cartographica 5). Steinbring, J., Watchman, A., Faulstich, P. and Taçon, P. (ed.), 1992. Time and Space. Dating and Spatial Considerations in Rock Art Research. Melbourne: Australian Rock Art Research Association.

Strier, K. B. 2007. Primate Behavioral Ecology. Boston: Allyn and Bacon. Tamisari, F. 2008. L’atto di nominare e il potere morfopoietico dei nomi e dei toponimi nella cosmogonia yolngu, Terra di Arnhem nordorientale, Australia. Quaderni di Semantica, 29: 231-254. Tersis, N. 1996. Le couple statique-dynamique dans la langue du Groenland oriental. In Tersis, N. and Therrien, M. (eds), La dynamique dans la langue et la culture inuit. Paris: Editions Peeters: 75-93. Tilley, C. 1994. A Phenomenology of Landscape. Places, Path and Monuments. Oxford: Berg. 2004. The Materiality of Stone: Explorations in Landscape phenomenology. Oxford: Berg. Ucko, P. and Layton P. 1999. The Archaeology and Anthropology of Landscape: Shaping your Landscape. London: Routledge. de Waal, F. (ed.), 1998. Tree of Origin. What Primate Behaviour Can Tell Us about Human Social Evolution. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. [Available also: www.continuitas.com/The Paleolithic Continuity Theory on Indo-European Origins (PCT]. Zvelebil, M. 1997. Hunter-gatherer Ritual Landscape: Spatial Organisation, Social Structure and Ideology Among Hunter-gatherers of Northern Europe and Western Siberia. Analecta Praehistorica Leidensia, 29: 33-50.

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The Connection between the Terrestrial and Celestial Landscape Orientation of the houses during the Bronze Age in the Carpathian Basin Emília Pásztor realized its regular, daily and yearly motion in the sky. They might even have noticed that the rising and setting points at the horizon were slowly moving between a southernmost and northernmost place in a year. The sun reaches its southernmost rising point at midwinter sunrise and the northernmost one at midsummer sunrise. The value in degrees between these two extreme points is characteristic for the geographical latitude of the observer. In the case of the Carpathian Basin it is about ± 36° for the due east (Barlai et al. 1992).

Assumption The celestial and terrestrial landscape must have meant inseparable unity for prehistoric people. This world view might have resulted that the elements of ‘celestial landscape’ had effect on built elements of the terrestrial landscape. This relation might have been mutual as the picture of the terrestrial landscape became projected on the sky spheres of the firmament to offer a mythical stage for ancestors, heroes, shamans or gods and goddesses to perform their deeds. Studying the orientation of Bronze Age houses in the Carpathian Basin is one of the important resources in order to get some information on the belief system involving sky lore as there are no megalithic monuments or visible remains of prehistoric edifices in this part of Europe.

As the sun is easy to observe and repeats its motion every year thus the monuments or graves are easy to orientate to the stations of its yearly motion. The sun symbols on archaeological finds also emphasize the important role of the sun in the life of communities (Endrődi et al. 2006, Pásztor 2006, Pásztor 2003).

The possible targets for astronomical orientation

The rising and setting sun

From prehistoric Europe the most well-known conspicuous ruins of archaeological monuments in creation of which the celestial bodies might have played any role are the megalithic monuments. Following Alexander Thom’s pioneer work (Ruggles 1988) tremendous research has been launched to hunt out the truth about the sky lore of prehistoric Europe.

It is the easiest to observe the motion of celestial bodies close to the horizon as there are always significant landmarks which as reference points can help recognize and keep in memory the different places of regular rising and setting at (or near) the horizon. The most well-known astronomically orientated monument is Stonehenge on the Salisbury plain in the South of England whose ground plan shows a fairly clear connection to some stations of yearly sun path (Burl 1987, Newham 1972, Pásztor et al 2000a, Ruggles 1997). The socalled processional road marks two important directions at the horizon, the midsummer sunrise and the midwinter sunset. It is easier to make a possible intentional orientation in the case of burial tombs. There are two well-known burial chambers which seem to have strong connection with the sun. Newgrange in Ireland was built with a small opening above the entrance in order to allow the light of midwinter rising sun to enter the heart of the tomb 6000 years ago (O’Kelly 1982). The phenomenon was similar at Maes Howe in Scotland but at midwinter sunset (MacSween et al. 1989: 96-97). These phenomena were not possible to be observed on the other days rather than around midwinter as the sun moved away.

Without written sources, however it is difficult to find evidences of the cognitive level of a community or a whole period (Renfew et al. 1996:369-403). Some remarkable results of archaeoastronomical research convinced the sceptics more and more that the prehistoric people might have shown deeper interest in celestial phenomena at least as early as the Neolithic Age (Burl 1987, Faust 2001, Pásztor et al 2007, Pásztor 2007, Pásztor et al 2006, Ruggles 1999 and many others). Studying the orientations of archaeological structures has supported the assumption that some sky phenomena were not only noticed but observed. There are monuments the orientations of which bear witness to such creators who might have recognized the regular motion of some celestial bodies. The sun has the leading role among the possible targets.

It is more difficult to prove the impact of celestial phenomena on prehistoric societies in the Carpathian Basin as there are no standing stone rows or circles or the visible remains of other monuments built from huge stones which

‘Diurnal sky elements’: the sun The sun as an essential basic factor of life must have played an important role for prehistoric communities. They might have 67

LANDSCAPE IN MIND their physical, conspicuous existence could support the assumptions. Their lack, however, does not mean that prehistoric man did not notice or observe celestial phenomena. The simplest case to study is the grave orientations. Those archaeological cultures which applied no cremation burial, often buried their deceased into graves with East-West or West-East orientations. For graves oriented to North-South or South-North the corpses often faced eastwards. All these show that the sun was involved in their beliefs, their death cult (Pásztor 2006). The remains of the communal or/and sacral structures can offer further possibilities to study the relation between the belief system and the sun. The earliest information on it comes from the circular enclosures of the Neolithic Lengyel culture in the Carpathian Basin. The ground plans of these monuments look like having been designed following common rules. Earth bridges (called gates) mostly four or two generally break the continuity of the ditch system, and their directions seem to have some connections with cardinal directions. Although some researchers assumed that the axes of some gates focused on the moon, a planet or a constellation (Gervautz– Neubauer 2005: 73; Pavúk– Karlovský 2004), the detailed investigation of more than 40 enclosures have supported the primary role of the sun in orientating the gates (Pásztor 2007b).

the cult objects inside the houses can indicate social or symbolical expectations. The presence of non-environmental factors in building a house is supported by ethnographical reports as well. The basic functions of human existence are closely attached to house. The whole building or its smaller parts can constitute the subjects of customs and beliefs. This belief system covers the peace of the house, the family relation, the different ways of health and fertility insurance – all essential elements for the life (Bereznai 1999: 117). Those human beings, who are living in strong relationship with nature, are unable to withdraw themselves from the influence of nature. The characteristic of early way of thinking is to create analogies when man shifts the specific features of outside world to the house, for example the openings, especially the chimneys function as passages between the world of living and the other worlds. The symbolical bringing forth of future things or activities are present in all phases of house building and the omens sent from the transcendent world to the world of house are also the typical group of belief system relating to house (Bereznai 1999: 117-119) In the Hungarian ethnographical reports there are very few data of choosing a building spot and setting out the main axis as the landed property system became stable and there were no areas of free occupation in the last centuries. The new houses had to be adjusted to the established order (Bereznai 1999: 122).

Further information on solar beliefs can be received from taking the orientations of houses under close scrutiny. At first sight the environmental factors seem to play the most important role in the building and orientation of a house. It should be directed to let in as much natural light as possible, to have the most heat from sunshine during the cold period and to resist the rigour of weather (Topping 1996). The archaeologists generally consider the prevailing wind to be the main cause of orientation in the Carpathian Basin, however, the winds are very rarely so strong here that they would be a threat to houses.

The old Csángó (Hungarian speaking natives of Moldavia) villages (except for ones built in the last century) were situated in such valleys which extended from the east to the west e.g. Magyarfalu, Lábnik, Pokolpatak, Klézse. The paths leading through the villages were heading from “napjövet” (from the place where the sun was also coming – old Hungarian expression for it) for “napszentületre”(where the sun would go to sleep) (Duma-István: 2005: 15). According to the ethnographical research the southern position was generally favoured at orientating, i.e. when the entrances faced south. The main axis was roughly east-west and the roof of the building showed as large surface toward the sun as possible to have the most benefit from the sunbeams moving on their daily and yearly path.

In the case of the Neolithic Linear Pottery Culture in Central Europe A. Coudart called the attention that house orientation was probably not chosen to minimize the effects of wind and adverse climatic conditions. There was certainly a link between the house orientation and prevailing summer winds but this does not apply to all the areas occupied by the Danubian groups (Coudart 1998:84-89).

For the Bronze Age it was also pointed out that houses made greater use of sunlight and daylight penetration than those of the Iron Age. The open gable apexes might have been possible natural light sources (Topping 1996:162). The orientation of houses belonging to the Early Bronze Age Bell Beaker cultural group called Csepel in the Carpathian Basin supports the assumption that the sun might have played an important role in their mythology (Endrődi et al. 2006). At the settlement sites of Budapest-Albertfalva and SzigetszentmiklósÜdülősor, the main axes of the houses were mostly parallel with the rays of midwinter sunrise. The average deviation is

Studying the orientations of Central European Neolithic long houses I. Hodder also argues that the topographical factors might have been secondary significance for some communities. The symbolical or social effect was supposed more important as certain correlation was detected for the long houses and the contemporary funerary monuments (Hodder 1990: 170-172). Thus the non-environmental factors also step into the picture. The non obvious direction for the axes, the strange opening positions, the sacrifice pits,

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EMÍLIA PÁSZTOR: THE CONNECTION BETWEEN THE TERRESTRIAL AND CELESTIAL LANDSCAPE only 10º which can be considered a low value. Applying the measurements of the building reconstruction in the Archaeological Park, Százhalombatta, Hungary, an argument can be made for the sun orientation. The reason for the common direction might have been the intention of the house builders to let the light of midwinter early sun into the dark space of the houses through the open gable (Pásztor 2005).

different gods and goddesses. Colourful pictures of them, their world and myth of genesis are painted on the walls and the locals invite the divine beings with an invocation ceremony to live with them. ‘Gods of the Sky come and see this house. Gods of the Mountains come and see this house…’ In the case of crisis they ask them for advice and support. All iconography and symbols show that the celestial and terrestrial spaces are strongly unified for the people and the essential part of their cosmos (Jain 1994:343-346). A closer, European example can be mentioned from Finno-Ugric areas. The Ostiyak and the Vogul kept the home idols inside their home, on a shelf or in a box with a bowl for sacrifices, in the most respected place, that is in the innermost nook of the house. All Votiyak families had a separate small cottage called kuala for divine worship but it also functioned as a place for making food in summer and as food storage in winter for the family. The owners offered sacrifices especially for the gods protecting the family happiness (Krohn 1908: 82-84, 8. ábra).

Culminant sun? The southern direction is often emphasized in orientations of monuments. The South is where the sun and any other celestial bodies reach the maximum height of their daily path, at the peak of ‘their power’. This direction is easy to set out as the sun shows it every day. The survey of megalithic tombs in Mecklenburg – Vorpommen region, Germany demonstrated the development and change of orientating the burial monuments during the early and middle Neolithic periods. Whilst at the beginning of the period the alignments of types called Urdolmen did not concentrate in any direction, the entrances of the younger passage graves (Ganggräber) from the later period showed an observable clustering around south (Pásztor et al 1997). The development of orientations, their slow moving and a definite concentration around south might signal a change in the belief system and the increasing role of the sun in the early religion (Pásztor et al 1999: 354).

The houses might have been taken as micro cosmos by a community, therefore there might have been many symbolical meanings attached to their different parts (Pearson et al. 1994). In this case the entrance door openings might also have had ruling position in setting out the main direction of the houses. The main entrances of the Middle Bronze Age round houses in South-England were often carefully manufactured and their sizes are larger than the other doorways inside the houses. There were special sacrificial pits inside often found next to them, whose ‘task’ were to control the time passing and remember of it. The coherent of the entrances to the midwinter solstice might have played the same role as the pits did, to count and remember of the past. If the Bronze Age houses can be taken as the physical embodiment of the cosmic and social order, the sacrificial pits inside the houses can be considered natural consequences of it (Brück 1999: 158-159).

The north-south orientation is not so unusual in the prehistoric Carpathian Basin. In the early Neolithic it is considered partly the surviving Mesolithic heritage, and partly the result of the interaction with the western-Balkan region (Bánffy 2004:66-69). The orientations of some tell settlement houses are the best examples that the nonenvironmental factors can also take over the ruling position in setting out the main axes. One can expect no other factor having an impact on orientation inside a tell-settlement rather than a possible hierarchy and/or the place economizing because of the narrow space. The site TiszaugKéménytető has contravened this statement. The houses arranged in triple groups were placed to north - south direction with their axes. The strict geometrical order of the decorations found on the outside walls support the assumption about the strong interweaving of the everyday life and the creation of living - place with the religious beliefs (Csányi 2003: 144).

Although from the Iron Age and from the land of ancient Israel, but there is another example which supports the significance of door orientation. The main entrances of the buildings including not only the dwelling houses but public buildings in towns as well were generally aligned with the East. The high preference in the investigated cases cannot be interpret with either the climatic conditions or functional expectations in the second phase of the Iron Age. Further support comes from the ethnographical reports and from the Bible where the Hebrew word of east has a very positive side meaning whilst west has a negative one (Faust 2001). Investigating the Iron Age round houses in Great Britain, it was discovered in many cases that the entrance openings often faced East or Southeast (Fitzpatrick 1997, Oswald 1997).

Ethnographical researches also attest the double – sacral and settling - function of dwelling places. This duality exists in the houses of the tribes such as Rathva, Bhilala, Saora, living in the north of India. On weekdays the house is the place where everyday life goes on, but on holidays it is filled up with sacral meaning by the rituals taking place inside. The house offers dwelling space not only for the living inhabitants but for the ancestors and even the gods and goddesses as well. The different main walls inside are considered the homes of

The Late Bronze Age settlement at Dunakeszi – Székesdűlő site, Hungary, excavated by Gábor Szilas (Szilas 2002, Horváth et al 2001) includes about 60 houses classified 69

LANDSCAPE IN MIND roughly in two or three types. The longer axes of the houses show a very good correlation with the north - south direction. This means the same can be argued for the main entrances in connection with the east direction as the main doorways detected often as a two-swing door, was generally found on the eastern side of the houses, close to its southern end. There was also an opening on the western side of the house, close to the northern end but generally not as wide as the main entrance. The statistical dispersion for the direction of the main axes is 13,5 degree, which is quite low. It signals that the possible target for the orientation might have been a celestial but not a topographical one as in the other case the parallaxes would be noticeable. See chart 1.

CHART 1. THE

ground with their root in the so-called houses with idols in Eastern region named Nyirség of Hungary. They supported the main girder beam, the wall plates and the roof. Such houses were seen in villages of Anarcs, Mándok and Komoró (Páll:1988: 52, 3-4. kép). The decorated prop which divides the house facade, is the characteristic element of the folk building activity in the region of Tápió, Hungary. A house built in 1821 had such a prop with several carved symbols on, among them the ancient type of solar or cosmos symbol (Novák 1985: 422). See figure 1.

DISTRIBUTION OF THE ORIENTATIONS OF

BRONZE AGE SETTLEMENT AT THE DUNAKESZI-SZÉKESDŰLŐ SITE, HUNGARY. THE VALUES ARE MEASURED FROM THE NORTH, IN DEGREES. NOTE THE SHARP PEAK IN THE CLOSE VICINITY OF 90º. I.E. THE EAST.

THE MAIN ENTRANCES OF THE HOUSES IN A LATE

FIGURE 1. THE DECORATED PROP WITH CARVED SYMBOLS IN A HOUSE BUILT IN 1821, TÁPIÓSÜLY, HUNGARY. AFTER NOVÁK 1985.

Other celestial landscape elements

The significance of the southern direction cannot be excluded or as the chart shows the rising sun might have had strong symbolical meaning for them that is why it overtook the other environmental factors. If the houses were oriented at all, their main entrances preferred to be aligned with the due east, and/or the long axes with the due south. The low statistical dispersion shows either many of the houses were built around equinoxes and they used the rising sun to set out the shorter axes, i.e. the direction where the main entrances faced or they used the culminant sun for this purpose with a fairly good measuring method, with which they could generally determine the actual culmination of the sun. Both of these methods suggest certain amount of theoretical knowledge deducted from practical observations.

Ethnographical research prove that people often interpret the eye-catching meteorological phenomena such as halo, big and strange cumuli, lightning or the golden arcs of rising and setting sun at the horizon, as independent celestial bodies. They are, however, hardly possible to be used as orientation targets. The reason for this that they are connected with other bodies and the place of their appearance is not regular. The rainbow The rainbow is such a meteorological phenomenon, whose development is controlled by physical rules. Its compelling spectacle requested and received place in all peoples’ mythology. The regularity in its formation was recognized in those regions where the climatic conditions made possible the often appearance. Because of its prominent role in the Scandinavian mythology it might have been aligned with sacral places. The processional road of a late Iron Age cultic centre at the Rösaring site, in the vicinity of Stockholm,

At Dunakeszi site in some cases the arrangement and size of the postholes prove the application of roof purlin in the structures of the buildings. These holding elements also had symbolical meaning according to the ethnographical research. There were big – often 50-60 cm wide and 270-280 cm tall -, roughly furnished oak timbers called idols dug into the

70

EMÍLIA PÁSZTOR: THE CONNECTION BETWEEN THE TERRESTRIAL AND CELESTIAL LANDSCAPE might have been orientated to the rainbow appearing above the sacred lake called Mälerei (Pásztor et al. 2000b). The representations of rainbow are difficult or impossible to recognize on ancient rock carvings or among the decorations on archaeological objects. The important role the celestial objects might have played in the prehistoric belief system, however, seems to be echoed on some prestige works such as the Nebra disc. Its symbols might contain the depiction of the rainbow as well (Pásztor et al 2007).

The stars

In the Carpathian Basin, as far as the present knowledge, there is no prehistoric construction whose creation the rainbow would have been involved in.

The ethnographical research argues that the nonenvironmental factors have had significant impact on house building activities involving the layout of a house. Thus the belief system might have had greater influence on orientation of buildings than the topographical and climatic factors. The present paper with a case study has investigated the possible role of the celestial bodies in setting out the house ground plans for a late Bronze Age settlement in the Carpathian Basin. Beside these sky elements, however, there might have been many other reasons for the orienting customs of a community. Anthropological research shows some interesting examples, such as the traditional Japanese houses face south, or rather they want to avoid north with their facades (Hendry 1981: 217); the houses of the Indonesian Toraja village face north, where the rivers come from (Waterson 1994:97). Even these two examples prove that there might also have been such factors controlling the building activities which are impossible to find out without written sources. As these materials are missing from Central European prehistory, the archaeoastronomical investigations can play an important role in offering a scientific one of the possible interpretations.

The regular motion of the stars is easy to recognize and follow but despite this fact they have not become the target for orientation of a monument in prehistoric Europe, as far as the present knowledge. This is also valid for the Carpathian Basin as well. Conclusion

‘Nocturnal sky elements’: the Moon Although the moon is also the central object of mythologies, it is difficult to align monuments with its rising or setting points at the horizon because of its complex and fast motion. The moon like the sun wanders along the horizon with its risings and settings but it reaches a maximum and minimum position every month. These also move and every 18,6 years, the series of the extreme points reach a minimal and a maximal northernmost and a southernmost extension. They are called minor and major standstills. These extreme points are often believed to be aligned with. In prehistoric Europe the megalithic monuments were systematically surveyed from this point of view. In the Portuguese Evora district, for example, the rising full moon or the first sight of the new moon after the vernal equinox might have had a great impact on the setting out the passage of the graves (3600 BC). 88 monuments in a fairly small geographical area can strengthen the assumption (Roslund et al. 2000). Further strong support comes from southern France where the same result can be deducted by investigating the orientation of 597 Causse –dolmens (25002200 BC) (Chevalier 1999:S56-S69).

References Bánffy, E., 2004, ‘The 6th Millennium BC boundary in Western Transdanubia and its role in the Central European transition (The Szentgyörgyvölgy-Pityerdomb settlement)’ Varia Arch. Hung. 15, pp. Barlai, K., - Bognár-Kutzián, I., – Zsoldos, E., 1992, ‘Rays of prehistoric sun’ in: S. Iwaniszewski (ed) Readings in Archaeoastronomy (Warsaw) pp. 11-20 Bereznai, Zs., 1999, ‘A házépítés hiedelem és szokáskörének funkcionális vizsgálata’ Cumania 16. (Kecskemét) pp. 115-172 Brück, J., 1999, ‘Houses, lifecycles and deposition on MBA settlements in Southern England’ Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 65, pp. 145-166 Burl, A., 1987, The Stonehenge People (London Melbourne: J. M. Dent and Sons Ltd) Pavúk, J., – Karlovskў, V., 2004, ‘Orientacia Rondelov Lengyelskej Kultúry na Smery Vysokého a Nízkeho Mesiaca’ Slov. Arch. LII-2, pp. 211-280 Duma-István, A., 2005, Csángó mitológia (Kézdivásárhely: Havas Kiadó)

In the Carpathian Basin it is difficult to study how the moon influenced the life of prehistoric communities as there are no visible remains of monuments or traces of prominent cult structures. The arguments supporting moon orientation of the rondels belonging to the early phase of the late Neolithic Lengyel culture (4500 BC) are not convincing as the assumption is not valid for all monuments but just for a few (Pavúk et al 2004, Pásztor 2007). There are no house orientation either that would have something in common with any stations of the moon motion. There are hardly any crescent representations among the decoration motives either and unfortunately the full moon and the sun might have shared the same symbols in depiction. The moon therefore might have made an effect on other fields, such as the calendar, magic or weather telling. The ethnographical and historical sources can list many examples for this.

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LANDSCAPE IN MIND Pásztor, E., 2003, ‘Preliminary report on archaeoastronomical research in the Carpathian basin during the Bronze Age’ in M. Blomberg – P. Blomberg – G. Henriksson (eds) Calendars, Symbol and Orientation: Legacies of Astronomy in Culture Uppsala Astronomical Observatory Report No. 59. pp. 107-110 Pásztor, E.,-Roslund, C.,-Juhász, Á.,-Dombi, M., 2000a, ‘Computer Simulation of Stonehenge’ in J. A. Barceló, M. Forte - D. Sanders, Virtual Reality in Archaeology BAR International Series 843. (Barcelona) pp. 111-113. Pásztor, E.,-Roslund, C.,-Nasström, B-M.,-Robertson, H., 2000b, ‘The Sun and the processional road at Rösaring in Sweden’ European Journal of Archaeology 3/1, pp. 57-67 Pásztor, E.,-Roslund, C., 1999, ‘Archaeoastronomy and its bearing on our understanding of prehistory - personal account’ in E. Jerem and I. Poroszlai (eds) Archaeology of the Bronze and Iron Age, Proceedings of the International Archaeological Conference Százhalombatta 1996 (Budapest: Archaeolingua) pp. 361-356. Pásztor, E., - Roslund, C., 1997, ‘Orientation of megalithic tombs in Mecklenburg’ in C. Jaschek and F. Atrio Barandela (eds) Proceedings of the IVth SEAC Meeting “Astronomy and Culture” (Salamanca) pp. 227-235 Pearson, M. P., - Richards, C., 1994, ‘Ordering the World: Perceptions of Architecture, Space and Time’ in M. P. Pearson, - C. Richards, (eds) Architecture and Order (London and New York: Routledge) pp. 1-38 Renfrew, C., – Bahn, P., 1996, Archaeology. Theories, methods and Practice, (London: Thames and Hudson) Roslund, C., - Kristiansen, J., – Hårdh, B., 2000, ‘Portuguese passage graves in the light of the Easter Moon’ Fornwännen 96, pp. 1-12 Ruggles, C. L. N., 1999, Astronomy in Prehistoric Britain and Ireland (New Haven/London: Yale University Press) Ruggles, C. L. N.,1997, ‘Astronomy and Stonehenge’ Proceedings of British Academy, 92 pp. 203-229 Ruggles, C. L. N., (ed) 1988, Records in stone – Papers in memory of A. Thom (Cambridge: Univ. Press) Szilas, G., 2002, ‚Die Freilegung eines bronzezeitlichen Brunnens speziellen Typs in Dunakeszi’ Budapest Régiségei, XXXVI. pp. 291-303 Topping, P., 1996, ‘Structure and ritual in the Neolithic house: Some example from Britain and Ireland, in Darvill, T. – Thomas, J. (eds). Neolithic Houses in Northwest Europe and Beyond Oxbow Monograph 57, pp. 157-170 Waterson, L., 1994, The Living House, an Anthropology of Architecture of South-East Asia (Singapore: Thames and Hudson)

Endrődi, A.,- Pásztor, E., 2006, ‘The role of symbolism and tradition in the society of Bell-Beaker Csepel group’, Archaeológiai Értesítő 132, pp. 7-25 Faust, A., 2001, ‘Doorway orientation, settlement planning and cosmology in ancient Israel during Iron Age II.’ Oxford Journal of Archaeology. Vol 20, No. 2, pp. 129-157 Fitzpatrick, A.P., 1997, ‘Everyday life in Iron Age Wessex’, in A. Gwilt, and C. Haselgrove, (eds) Reconstructing Iron Age Societies Oxbow Monograph 71. (Oxford: Oxbow) pp. 73-86 Gervautz, M., – Neubauer, W., 2005, ‘Sonne, Mond und Sterne’ in: Daim – Neubauer (Hg.) Zeitreise Heldenberg. Geheimnisvolle Kreisgräben Niederösterreichische Landesaustellung pp. 73 – 74 Hendry, J., 1981, Marriage in Changing Japan (London: Croom Helm) Hodder, I., 1990, The Domestication of Europe (Oxford: Blackwell) Horváth, L. A, - Szilas, G. – Endrődi, A. - Horváth M. A., 2001, ‘Őskori telepek és sírok feltárása Dunakeszin (Escavation of prehistoric settlements and graves in Dunakeszi)’ Aquincumi Füzetek 7 pp. 115-127. Jain, J., 1994, ‘Parallel structures’, in Kapila Vatsyayan (ed) Concepts of Space –ancient and modern Indira Gandhi Nat. Centre for the Arts pp. 343-355 Krohn, Gy., 1908, A finnugor népek pogány istentisztelete Bán Aladár (transl) (Budapest: MTA Kiadás) MacSween, A.,-Sharp, M., 1989, Prehistoric Scotland (London: B.T. Batsford Ltd) Newham,C.A., 1972, The Astronomical Significance of Stonehenge (Wales: Moon Publications) Novák, L. A., 1985, ‘Tápió vidékének hagyományos építkezése’ Studia Commitatensia 15, pp. 417-448 O’Kelly, M. J., 1982, Newgrange (London: Thames and Hudson) Oswald, A., 1997, ‘A Doorway ont he Past’ in A. Gwilt and C. Haselgrove (eds) Reconstructing Iron Age Societies Oxbow Monograph 71. (Oxford: Oxbow) pp. 87-95 Pavúk, J., – Karlovskў, V., 2004, ‘Orientacia Rondelov Lengyelskej Kultúry na Smery Vysokého a Nízkeho Mesiaca’ Slov. Arch. LII-2, pp. 211-280 Páll, I., 1988, ‘Az Észak-Nyírség népi építészete kutatásának eredményei’ Nyíregyházi Jósa András M. Évkönyve, pp. 43-73 Pásztor, E., - Roslund, C., 2007, ‘An interpretation of the Nebra disc’, Antiquity 81, pp. 267-278 Pásztor, E., 2007, ‘Megjegyzések a Lengyeli-kultúra körárkainak tájolásához’ ArchÉrt. in press. Pásztor, E., 2006, ‘Celestial symbols on Bronze Age archaeological finds in the Carpathian Basin’ UISPP conference. BAR Intern.Series in press. Pásztor, E., 2005, ‘Sunshine in Bell Beaker’s houses: On the Orientation of the Houses of the Bell Beaker - Csepel Group’ SEAC conference book in press.

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Political and Religious Expression in Romanesque Sacral Architecture in Slovenia Saša Čaval

FIGURE 1: EARLY CHRISTIAN CHURCHES ON THE TERRITORY OF SLOVENIA (AFTER DULAR ET AL. 1999: 326).

extent, still speak of their wealth, but not many sacred locations of those times are known today (Teržan 1990; Teržan (ed.) 1995; Teržan (ed.) 1996; Turk 1994; Turk 2000). Romanisation of this part of Europe started in the 2nd century BC. Until the 1st century AD the area belonged to the X. region – regio decem – of the Roman state and later to various provinces, depending on provincial politics (Šemrov 1996: 19-34; Dular et al. 1999; Šašel Kos, Scherrer (ed.) 2002; Šašel Kos, Scherrer (ed.) 2003; Weiler 1996: 123-143; Cedilnik 2004). All communities left different kinds of material remains of their religious life, some more substantial than others. Archaeological records of the temples and sacred places and epigraphic monuments of different religions and beliefs are known from all over the country (Curk 2001: 327333; Vomer Gojkovič, Kolar (eds.) 2001).

Introduction This article is part of an ongoing PhD project that focuses on researching and analyzing astronomical orientations of Romanesque churches in Slovenia. I will show preliminary results of the project and focus on political and proprietary activity of administrative agents involved, which can be seen through the spread of churches in Romanesque period, dated in Slovenia approximately between AD 1050 and 1300. Historical overview The area nowadays pertaining to Slovenia usually played a marginal role in different civil or religious administrations under whose rule it fell at a given time. Consequently, since new developments normally did not erase former cultural elements as drastically as in other areas, a number of vestiges from different historical periods are quite patent in the present-day country’s urbanism and landscape.

Christianity started to expand slowly, but once it became a legally recognised and later also the only official religion, determined by a decree from the emperor himself, other beliefs had to move to ‘the underground’. Three major waves of Christianization of the populus that stayed or was left to live here during and after the end of the Roman Empire had been registered in the territory of Slovenia. When Christian

The territory of today’s Slovenia was densely populated in prehistory (Dular et al. 1999; ANSL 1975). Prosperous Bronze and Iron Age settlements, due to their number and 73

LANDSCAPE IN MIND

FIGURE 2A: KUCAR PRI PODZEMLJU: HILL SETTLEMENT WITH TWO CHURCHES, BAPTISTERY AND EPISCOPY, 5TH TO 6TH CENTURIES (AFTER KNIFIC, SAGADIN (EDS.) 1991: FIG. 50).

FIGURE 2B: AJDOVSKI GRADEC ABOVE VRANJE WITH TWO CHURCHES AND A BAPRISTERY, 5TH TO 6TH CENTURIES (AFTER DULAR ET AL. 1999: 354).

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SAŠA ČAVAL: POLITICAL AND RELIGIOUS EXPRESSION IN ROMANESQUE SACRAL ARCHITECTURE IN SLOVENIA

FIGURE 3: SETTLEMENT OF SLAVIC PEOPLES ON THE TERRITORY OF SOUTHEASTERN ALPS IN THE SECOND HALF OF THE 6TH CENTURY (AFTER VIDIC (ED.) 2001: 51).

was no room for any kind of ‘heresies’, even if they were really close to the real ‘holy word’ preached from the Rome (Bratož 1996). When Slavic people settled in the southeastern Alpine region (Figure 3), they created their own union of tribes, which later developed into one of the first independent Slavic confederations named Carantania. An important moment, a turning point in Slovenian religious history, was political decision of Carantanian Grand Duke Borut, who, in AD 740, established political and military alliances against the Avars with Bavarian (Christian) prince Odilo. The Carantanians, with Bavarian help, succeeded to prevent Avars from settling. In return they had to accept Bavarian reign, yet they could still keep their aristocracy and their Grand Duke (Figure 4; Štih 2001). A little later, around the year 753, Grand Duke Hotimir asked Virgil, archbishop of Salzburg, to send to Carantania his auxiliary bishop Modestus. In the next 10 years numerous new churches were built, all known from historical sources. From the first Christian centres in Salzburg archbishopric (Maria Saal, Teurnia – today St. Peter im Holz, Ad Undrimas etc.), ecclesiastical posts were spread mostly through river valleys, such as those along the Mura and Drava rivers. At the same time the southern part of Slovenia belonged to Aquileian patriarchate, however, there are no written historical records about their work in this territory. Because of the internal affairs Aquileia patriarchate was not allowed – nor able – to lead large missionary work in the northeastern part of its vast archbishopric

religion had enough followers to arrange continuous and institutionalized spiritual guidance, the Church started to spread from major, still Romanised urban centres to minor cities, villages and on to the countryside, among the rest of the unbelievers. Elements of first Christian sacral architecture and small finds dating to this period, between the 2nd and the 4th century, are rare and can be found mostly in larger cities with Roman heritage (Knific, Sagadin (eds.) 1991; Bratož 1996). The following two centuries were marked by architecture on the tops of strategically significant hills along commercially important routes (Figure 1). On most of the hills, settlements were established that included religious architecture, often with ‘families of churches’ at a single site, i.e. two or three churches with at least two additional ecclesiastical structures, each with its own meaning and function (Figure 2 a, b; Knific, Sagadin (eds.) 1991; Ciglenečki 1987; Dular et al. 1999). This was the period of great migrations, when new populations came and brought their own beliefs. Christianity was quickly forgotten, almost erased, and different forms of pre-Christian beliefs re-emerged. After (mostly) Germanic peoples had moved to the north and west, the region was ‘cleared’ of Pagan beliefs and there was room for Christianity again. In those times, Christianity was already more institutionalized, with its course pre-established, and there 75

LANDSCAPE IN MIND

FIGURE 4: ADMINISTRATIVE DIVISION OF THE SOUTHEASTERN ALPINE REGION BETWEEN 798 AND 828 (AFTER GRAFENAUER 1979: 127).

followed. The result of the Hungarians’ attacks was the destruction of ecclesiastical administration and, as nearly all the churches were destroyed, it almost led (again) to the extinction of Christianity in these parts. After the Hungarian defeat, missionaries had to start their work again; however, with the population still remembering old/new religion, they had an easier job (Bratož 2005). Shortly before, people suffered from great misfortunes and were eager to (re)know this religion, based on hope. With the peace regained, a civil and an ecclesiastical administration were settled again in accordance with earlier standards.

(Bratož 1990, Bratož 1999). When they became more active, the conflicts with Salzburg archbishopric concerning the ecclesiastical boundary became stronger. In the year 796 Aquileian patriarch Paulinus II and archbishop Arno from Salzburg decided for borderline to follow river Drava. Later, in 811, these conclusions were confirmed also by the ruler Charlemagne, for in the late 8th century these parts appertained to Frank kingdom (Štih 2001: 49-82; Bratož 1987). Thus, with stronger ecclesiastical limitations, (former) missionary centres were transformed into regular religious Christian centres, seats of administration (Figure 5). This is the time when Church authority established first parishes throughout this region, incorporating religion in the life style of its inhabitants. It was the first civil and religious administration after the Roman period, after the 6th century (Bratož 1987). The process of feudalization began and would have continued if Hungarians had not started to invade. Already from the last third of the 9th century on (880), this new nomadic tribe settled in the eastern parts of Europe with an attempt to interfere in the territory battles. In the year 907 they defeated Bavarian army and started their plunder attacks in France, around the Alps and all to the southern Italy, until the year 955, when they were stopped with a battle at Augsburg. As they were pushed back, they settled in the Pannonian plain (Figure 6). Twenty years later their ruling dynasty was Christianized and the whole population soon

Sacral Romanesque architecture This brief review of the early Slovenian history has been presented to help the reader understand the dynamics of mixing and blending of cultural elements derived from two main political and religious administrations, Salzburg and Aquileia archbishoprics. The difference between the manifestations of both archbishoprics is observable in sacral architecture of early Christian period and remains visible up to and during the Romanesque period (from the 11th to the beginning of the 14th century). Salzburg archbishopric was located north and north-west of Slovenia, with its religious center in Salzburg (Austria). Initially under the rule of Franks, it later, after the deaths of Charlemagne and his 76

SAŠA ČAVAL: POLITICAL AND RELIGIOUS EXPRESSION IN ROMANESQUE SACRAL ARCHITECTURE IN SLOVENIA

FIGURE 5: EARLY MEDIEVAL SITES, FROM 8TH TO 11TH CENTURY (AFTER DULAR ET AL. 1999: 375).

FIGURE 6: HUNGARIAN MIGRATIONS AND INVASIONS IN THE LATE 9TH AND 10TH CENTURIES; THE SHADED AREA AND THE CIRCLE EAST OF SLOVENIA MARK THE TERRITORIES OF THEIR INITIAL AND LATER SETTLEMENT, RESPECTIVELY (AFTER VIDIC (ED.) 2001: 79).

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LANDSCAPE IN MIND

FIGURE 7 A, B: FORM OF NORTHERN SACRAL ARCHITECTURE DICTATED BY SALZBURG ARCHBISHOPRIC (AFTER ZADNIKAR 2001: 54).

successors to the throne, became a part of German empire. At the beginning, the interests of new owners, German aristocrats, in our territories were more sporadic or marginal, but later, between the 9th and 12th centuries, Slovenian territory was a target of a strong and extensive German colonization. The new owners brought to their new land also their own version of religious architectural expression, evident mostly in ground plans and decoration. Major differences are clearly visible in the shapes of the presbytery, the most important part of a church, reserved for the high altar and clergy. Northern or Salzburg form is rectangular or square, with cross-ribbed arched ceiling (Figure 7 a, b). A variation of rectangular presbytery is the ‘choir belfry’: the ground floor of the bell tower was used as presbytery (Zadnikar 2001: 40-56).

Canzian, Hermagoras and Fortunatus were part of Christian society in Aquileia and are characteristic only for the Aquileian patriarchate. Also St. Peter, today known as universal Christian saint, was at first a Carolingian patron. Medieval written sources tell us that the first churches consecrated to him date to pre-Hungarian time and were systematically introduced in the 8th and 9th centuries by and all over the Carolingian state (Höfler 1986: 9-14, 43-56). As Christianity tried to become universal religion, their followers and ‘performers’ frequently built churches on especial, important or distinctive landscape features, which had often figured as sacred places already in pre-Christian times. It is well known that certain patrons are connected, by type or chronologically, to certain archaeological sites. The churches of St. George, for instance, can be found in Slovenia, in general, on prehistoric settlements, mainly from Iron Age. In the Aquileian patriarchate, on the other hand, the churches of St. Canzian1 also appear on the settlements from the same period, and the latter’s number increases as we move westward, toward Aquileia. St. Paul and Peter’s churches are found on Roman period settlements, while the churches devoted to St. Peter only were built mostly on Roman period necropolises.

Contrary to the Salzburg archbishopric with Germanic background and sacral architecture coming mostly from the north, Aquileia (Italy) was a strong Mediterranean city, dictating the form of Mediterranean and later also Byzantine sacral architecture. Aquileian form of presbytery is an apse, ranging from the shape of horseshoe to more open semicircular forms. The apse’s ceiling is most frequently made of wood and flat, yet vaulted ceilings can also be found (Figure 8 a, b; Zadnikar 2001: 40-56).

Political and proprietary activity mentioned in the introduction is therefore reflected in the spread of specific sacral architecture, as well as in a wide circulation of distinct patrons. The border between both archbishoprics was defined by the king and both parties agreed on that, but political, territorial and behind that also ecclesiastical interests led Salzburg archbishopric and its wealthy followers towards acquiring some land in the Aquileian archbishopric. Salzburg and its bishops were present on the southern side of river Drava only as landowners, i.e. civil possessors of larger parts of the territory. However, they or their subjects also

The other difference between the two ecclesiastical administrations has to do with the saints they worshiped. In the Romanesque period there were about 25 patron saints; the churches were dedicated to Mary, John the Baptist, Mary Magdalene, to the apostles (Peter, Paul, Thomas, Andrew etc.), archangels (Michael, Gabriel), prophets of the Old Testament (Elijah, Daniel) and, of course, the first or the most important martyrs, like Stephen, Martin, George, Elisabeth etc. Some of these commonly known patrons, and a few additional ones, were significant only for one of the two archdioceses: Benedict, Rupert and Sigismund are the saints we can find merely in the Salzburg archbishopric; martyrs

1 The churches dedicated to St. Canzian are particularly common in the vicinity of water springs or on locations somehow connected with water.

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SAŠA ČAVAL: POLITICAL AND RELIGIOUS EXPRESSION IN ROMANESQUE SACRAL ARCHITECTURE IN SLOVENIA

FIGURE 8 A, B: FORM OF SACRAL ARCHITECTURE DICTATED BY AQUILEIAN PATRIARCHATE (AFTER ZADNIKAR 2001: 41, 43).

introduced parts of northern culture. As a result of an ‘acclimatization’ of northern dynastic families we can find northern characteristics of Christianity in the 13th-century central Slovenia, around Škofja Loka and in some parts of north-eastern and eastern Slovenia, especially along the downstream part of river Krka (Figure 9; Zadnikar 2001: 52, 53; Komac 2006: 54).

- in 27% of the cases, the church’s orientation corresponds to its patron Saint’s holiday3; - for 10% of the dates corresponding to the orientations, no significance has so far been found; - 2 churches (7%), for which no relationship with the Sun can be established (their east-west orientation axes lie beyond the angle of the Sun’s annual movement along the horizon), are oriented to the same hill with a church on top; however, only further research and eventual finding of similar patterns may reveal whether this relationship was intentional.

Archaeoastronomical Analyses Applying archaeoastronomical methods and techniques (Šprajc 1991: 45-52), measurements and analyses of orientations of Romanesque churches in certain area of Slovenia were accomplished. The southeastern region named Lower Carniola pertained to the Aquileian patriarchate; however, because of colonization from the German territory in the 10th century and afterwards, a number of architectural elements of northern ecclesiastical expression can also be found. For thirty-two churches, we measured the orientation azimuths and calculated the corresponding declinations, taking into account the eastern and western horizon elevations. The east-west axes of all the churches can be related (at least in one direction) with the points of sunrise, and occasionally sunset, on certain dates, while some of them seem to correspond to some prominent horizon features, such as hilltops. Analyzing the alignment data on the Romanesque churches included in the study, the following results were obtained:

Most of our results are comparable to those reached by previous research carried throughout Europe, according to which the churches are oriented in the directions of sunrise on the name day of the patron Saint (McCluskey 1993: 101), on both solstices (McCluskey 1993: 100, 101), on the day important to founders of the religious order –especially frequent practice within Cistercian and Franciscan orders (Incerti 2001: 3, 4), or in the directions corresponding to some other dates important for a specific church (Firneis, Köberl 1989: 430, 431; Guzsik 1978; Iwaniszewski 1999: 109; McCluskey 1993: 109–115; Incerti 2001: 9–11). It is worth pointing out that pre-Christian beliefs were deeply rooted in the population. Surely, some priests and other followers of former religious practices disagreed with conversion to the new faith and were committed to their traditional ones. Those individuals or groups of them must have been very influential in their own societies. Since Christianity could not surpass those beliefs, important pagan festivals were overlaid by the new ones introduced by the Church. The Celtic festival Samhain celebrated on November 1, for example, transformed into the All Saints’ Day, very powerful early Christian holiday, and another

- the greater part of orientations (56%) refer to naturally significant moments of the tropical year, mostly equinoxes and the summer solstice; a few of them seem to record the Cross Quarter days2;

2 The mid-quarter or cross-quarter days, important in Celtic folklore, are approximate mid-points in time between consecutive equinoxes and solstices (dates around February 4, November 5, May 6 and August 6) ( Ruggles 2005: 265).

3 The church is oriented in the direction of sunrise or sunset on the name day or holiday of the saint to which church is dedicated to.

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FIGURE 9: PARTS OF THE TERRITORY OF SLOVENIA THAT BELONGED TO THE NOBILITY ORIGINATING IN SALZBURG ARCHBISHOPRIC.

places. On the other hand, the orientations of churches that were built on burial grounds of whichever archaeological period mostly correspond to their patron Saint’s name day.

Celtic festival, Imbolc, celebrated on February 2, was replaced with St. Mary’s holiday of Candlemass. Additionally, in Slovenia some Slavic festivals were substituted by important Christian festivals, which correspond mainly to some turning points of the agricultural cycle (McCluskey 1993; Guzsik 1978; Makarovič 1995: 102-108; Makarovič 2006: 166).

The results presented in this paper are an outcome of the analysis of only one fifth of the Romanesque churches in Slovenia, included in the aforementioned research project4. Final results of this study, based on the analyses of approximately 200 ecclesiastical buildings, is expected to shed light on many more aspects of the rules underlying the churches’ orientations, as well as of the relationship between their locations and cultural landscape in general.

Conclusion

As mentioned at the beginning, a more comprehensive study dealing with the information presented above, and including a large amount of data concerning astronomical orientations of churches and their placement in natural and cultural landscape, is still in progress. Therefore, only some preliminary results of this research, which combines archaeoastronomical interpretations with the study of regional civil and religious history, can be summarized here.

References ANSL, Arheološka najdišča Slovenije, 1975 (Ljubljana: ZRC SAZU). Bratož, R., 1987, ‘Oglejska shizma in vpliv cerkvenozgodovinskih dogodkov na zgodovino alpskih Slovanov do začetka 8. stoletja’, 23. Seminar slovenskega jezika, literature in kulture. Zbornik predavanj, pp. 105120 (Ljubljana). Bratož, R., 1990, ‘Vpliv oglejske cerkve na vzhodnoalpski in predalpski prostor od 4. do 6. stoletja’. Zbirka Zgodovinskega časopisa 8 (Ljubljana). Bratož, R., 1996, ‘Christianisierung des Nordadria- und Westbalkansraumes im 4. Jahrhundert’ in R. Bratož (ed.),

Most of the churches dedicated to the first martyrs, especially to those from the 3rd and 4th centuries, are located on archaeological sites from prehistoric periods. The orientations of the churches built in settlements correspond to naturally significant moments of the tropical year (equinoxes and solstices), which seems to indicate that they follow the orientations of former (pagan) sanctuaries on top of which they must have been built: when Christianity was not able to suppress traditional beliefs and eradicate the worship of ancient deities on their old sacred locations, churches were erected on top of pagan shrines. This practice, enhancing participation of the new converts in Christian ceremonies, resulted in the continuity of a number of sacred

4 I would like to express my deep gratitude to dr. Ivan Šprajc for his guidance and help.

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Westillyricum und Nordostitalien in der Spätrömischen zeit, Situla 34, pp. 299-366 (Ljubljana: Narodni muzej). Bratož, R., 1999, ‘Začetki oglejskega misijona med Slovani in Avari. Sestanek škofov ‘ad ripas Danubii’ in sinoda v Čedadu’ in V. Rajšp and E. Bruckmüller (eds.) Vilfanov zbornik. Pravo, zgodovina, narod, pp. 79-111 (Ljubljana). Bratož, R., 2005 ‘Začetki slovenske etnogeneze : dejstva, teze in hipoteze o prehodnem obdobju med antiko in srednjim vekom v prostoru med Jadranom in Donavo’ in R. Bratož (ed.) Zbornik prispevkov v počastitev 75-letnice prof. Sergia Tavana, Goriški letnik 30-31, pp. 265-297 (Nova Gorica: Goriški muzej). Cedilnik, A., 2004, ‘Ilirik med Konstantinom Velikim in Teodozijem Velikim. Balkansko-podonavski prostor v poročilih Atanazija, Hilarija, Sokrata Sholastika, Sozomena, Teodoreta in Filostorgija’. Thesaurus Memoriae. Dissertationes 3 (Ljubljana: Zgodovinski inštitut Milka Kosa ZRC SAZU. ZRC SAZU). Ciglenečki, S., 1987, ‘Höhenbefestigungen aus der Zeit vom 3. bis 6. Jh. im Ostalpenraum. Višinske utrdbe iz časa 3. do 6. stoletja v vzhodnoalpskem prostoru’. Dela 1. Razreda SAZU 31 (Ljubljana: ZRC SAZU). Curk, I., 2001, ‘Römische Kultstätten in Slowenien – als urbanistisches Phänomen’ in M. Vomer Gojkovič and N. Kolar (eds.), Ptuj in the Roman Empire. Mithraism and its Era’. Archaeologia Poetovionensis 2, 327-333 (Ptuj). Dular, J. et al. (eds.), 1999, Zakladi tisočletij. Zgodovina Slovenije od neandertalcev do Slovanov (Treasures of the millenniums. History of Slovenia from the Neanderthal to the Slavs) (Ljubljana: Modrijan). Firneis, M. G. and C. Köberl, 1989, ‘Further studies on the astronomical orientation of medieval churches in Austria’ in A. F. Aveni (ed.), World archaeoastronomy, 430-435 (Cambridge University Press). Grafenauer, B., 1979, ‘Združitev Slovencev in življenje pod Franki do začetka 9. stoletja’ in Z. Čepič et al. (eds.), Zgodovina Slovencev, 123-130 (Ljubljana: Cankarjeva založba). Guszik, T., 1978, ‘Sol aequinoctialis – Zur Frage der äquinoktialen Ostung im Mittelalter’, Periodica Polytechnica: Architecture 22/3-4, pp. 191-213 (Budapest). Höfler, J., 1986, O prvih cerkvah in pražupnijah na Slovenskem (About first churches and parishes in Slovenia), Razprave FF (Ljubljana: Znanstveni inštitut Filozofske fakultete Univerze). Incerti, M., 2001, ‘Solar Geometry in Italian Cistercian Architecture’, Archaeoastronomy XVI, The journal of astronomy and culture, 3-23 (Austin: University of Texas Press). Iwaniszewski, S., 1998, ‘The development of a regional archaeoastronomy: The case of central-eastern Europe’, in Archaeoastronomia, credenze e religioni nel mondo antico;

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LANDSCAPE IN MIND in monogafije 29 (Catalogi et monographiae 29) (Ljubljana: Narodni muzej). Teržan, B. (ed.), 1996, Hoards and individual metal finds from the Eneolithic and Bronze ages in Slovenia II. Katalogi in monogafije 30 (Catalogi et monographiae 30) (Ljubljana: Narodni muzej). Turk, P., 1994, Depo iz Mušje jame pri Škocjanu (Mušja jama by Škocjan hoard). Masters thesis (Ljubljana). Turk, P., 2000, Depoji pozne bronaste dobe med panonskim in apeninskim prostorom (Hoards of the Late Bronze Age between the Pannonian and the Apennine region). Doctoral dissertation (Ljubljana). Vidic, M. (ed.), 2001, Ilustrirana zgodovina Slovencev, (Ljubljana: Mladinska knjiga). Vomer Gojkovič, M., and N. Kolar (eds.), 2001, Ptuj v rimskem cesarstvu. Mitraizem in njegova doba, (Ptuj in the Roman Empire. Mithraism and its period), Archaeologia Poetovionensis 2 (Ptuj: Pokrajinski muzej Ptuj : Zgodovinsko društvo Ptuj). Weiler, I., 1996, ‘Zur Frage der Grenzziehung zwischen Ostund Westteil des Römischen Reiches in der Spätantike’ in R. Bratož (ed.) Westillyricum und Nordostitalien in der Spätrömischen zeit, Situla 34, pp. 123-144 (Ljubljana: Narodni muzej). Zadnikar, M., 2001, Romanske cerkve v Sloveniji. (Romanesque churches in Slovenia) (Ljubljana: Družina).

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Astronomy, ritual and the creation of Neolithic landscapes at the passage graves of Ireland and Scotland Kate Prendergast Introduction

Networks of interaction: examples and interpretations

Understanding the ways in which large tracts of land, whether at ‘local’, ‘territorial’ or ‘regional’ levels, came to be known and used during the Neolithic in the British Isles has long been a subject for investigation and remains a key question in terms of the adoption and spread of agriculture. Central to this question is the emergence and spread of monuments. Recent work has begun to establish that monuments were a primary medium for the shift from a hunter-gatherer to an agricultural conception of landscape (e.g. Barrett 1994, Tilley 1994, Bradley 1998). Monuments, it is argued, facilitated a change in thinking about the ways in which land could be seen, used and understood. In so doing, they helped to make possible the increased clearing of the landscape for horticulture and pastoralism, because they provided a medium through which indigenous communities could conceive of and thus exploit an increasingly domesticated landscape.

By the early 1990s, Bradley and Edmonds had been able to define and reconstruct several networks or zones of interaction in both the earlier and later Neolithic in Britain; one of which, dubbed the ‘henge-Grooved Ware network’, explicitly explained the distribution of late Neolithic henges as representative of a network of interaction between northern and southern Britain (1993: 179-91). The shift to thinking about the development of monuments across the landscape in terms of networks not only helped to explain how discrete typological sets of monuments existed within and across regional areas in the British Isles. It also helped to extend speculation about why people were building monuments across the landscape, in this way. Approaches varied from the small scale and theoretical to the large scale and more practically grounded. Christopher Tilley used the basic insight of a ‘network’ of monuments to focus on the earlier Neolithic landscape of south Wales (1994). Combining this insight with a phenomenological approach, Tilley was able to show how monuments defined existential or ‘sacred’ locales (places of belonging or being) rather than claims to an economic or agricultural territory.

Included in this work is a focus on the development and potential role of what Richard Bradley and Mark Edmonds have called ‘networks’ (1993). Bradley and Edmonds define a network as a discrete zone of interaction demarcated by similar sets of monuments (and different from sets in other areas), the distribution of a discrete repertoire of portable objects, and by implication, a shared set of exchange, social and ritual practices that underpin the typology and distribution of the monuments and objects.

Tilley argued there was real continuity between the Mesolithic and early Neolithic uses and understandings of the landscape (1994: 202-8). Monuments appeared to be the key innovation in this transition, and were used, he argued, to ‘fix’ a landscape already understood in terms of core motifs such as places of natural power and the paths between them. Monuments may therefore have ‘fixed’ pre-existing Mesolithic ‘networks’, already understood in terms of the creation of a human community within the natural world. It was therefore the artificial way in which monuments ‘memorialised’ this landscape that formed one of the conditions through which the encounter with domestication was first grasped among these indigenous groups.

The concept of networks emerged from earlier attempts to explain the close typological similarities between monuments which in some cases were many hundreds of miles apart. In particular, clarifying why there were highly similar examples of late Neolithic henge monuments in the far north and south of the British Isles was key to wider paradigms about the development of the Neolithic. In the 1970s, Colin Renfrew used the similarities between Scottish and Wessex henges to reject the culture-historical idea of diffusion and promote the idea of systems theory (1973, 1979). But Renfrew’s processual approach – that henges arose independently because of similar social structures – couldn’t adequately account for discrete clusters of similar monuments and objects found so far apart. If there had been an abandonment of movements of people across the landscape as a plausible explanation of such patterns, the movement of their objects and ideas remained a powerful possibility.

While Tilley’s focus was small-scale, Bradley and Edmonds were concerned with evidence for interaction zones across far larger territories. In particular, they argued that the pivotal network to develop in earlier Neolithic Britain was one that extended from Yorkshire, across the Pennines into Cumbria, lowland Scotland and Ulster (1993:158). The Yorkshire Wolds sequences suggest that during this phase long barrows were succeeded by round barrows and collective cremation rites were replaced by single inhumations 83

LANDSCAPE IN MIND of adult males. Similar long-round barrow monuments are found across the Pennines in the Eden valley, in eastern Ireland, and down the east coast of Britain, into East Anglia and the Thames valley. As the early Neolithic developed, long-round barrows are found in these regions in increasing proximity to other monuments. In Yorkshire and elsewhere, barrows are directly associated with both cursus monuments and with early Neolithic enclosures and these monumental complexes often "command the main routes across the Pennines into Cumbria" (1993:162). It is at these monuments that major concentrations of elaborate artefacts including axes, some originating from other parts of the country, were deposited.

pursuit of innovation within and across it is pivotal to the ways in which social territories in the Neolithic became established and acted in turn as instigators for further change. Perhaps this is best illustrated by the major claim of this paper: that the passage-graves of Ireland and Scotland should be seen as a network, comparable to those reconstructed on mainland Britain. It has long been recognised that passage-graves have a unique Atlantic-based distribution pattern (Iberia, Brittany, Ireland, Wales and northern Scotland) reflecting social beliefs and practices specific to this region. Earlier generations of archaeologists such as Stuart Piggott advanced diffusionist or culture-historical explanations for their distribution, and the debate about the degree to which it reflects movements of people across the sea, from Brittany to Ireland and Ireland to Scotland, is ongoing (see for example, Cunliffe 2001, Sheridan 2003). But passage-graves have not been explored in terms of a network as defined by Bradley and Edmonds. Yet, in all respects, passage-graves conform to the generic features of those networks reconstructed elsewhere in the British Isles.

Bradley and Edmonds argued that the construction and use of these mortuary, ritual and enclosure monumental complexes would have "provided the opportunity for large numbers of people to gather together at single locations" (1993:162). Once there, they exchanged objects and engaged in ritual practices such as burial and deposition. Moreover, over time, this Yorkshire-based network became a dominant zone of interaction, pulling in others, particularly those of southern England (1993: 164-78).

Between c 37-3000 BC, the number and size of passage-grave sites across Ireland and northern Scotland increased dramatically (Mercer 1992, Bergh 1995). The monuments shared typological features, a characteristic that became increasingly emphasised over that long time frame (Sheridan 1986). The Irish sites also shared a common set of portable objects that are routinely deposited at the passage-graves across their distribution. Key features of their typology and use indicate a set of shared ritual practices and moreover, the nature of their distribution pattern indicates an emphasis on paths, high places, rivers and the sea – a network much like that identified by Tilley in south Wales, but on a larger scale (Prendergast 1998, Cooney 2000).

Among the key points to emerge from this work was the emphasis on evidence in the earlier Neolithic for relatively long distance networks of interaction. Central to the spread of these ‘culture zones’ were the construction of similar monuments, exchange of material objects with social and ritual as well as economic value, and a shared set of ritual practices, including burial and feasting. In addition, these zones of interaction had sufficient cultural clout to displace and supersede other discrete cultural networks. In other words, this evidence points to interactions that include but go beyond a formalising of Mesolithic values in respect to the landscape. They indicate innovations in landscape use that relate to core aspects of the take up of agriculture.

The formal identification of passage-graves as a ‘network’ may be instructive for two reasons. The first is that, as Bradley has argued, the emergence in Brittany of a round monument with a passage and chamber may indicate the first monumental tradition in the earlier Neolithic of North West Europe that draws directly on indigenous views of time and space (1998: 51-67). Clearly passage-graves invoke a different concept of space than the long mound tradition that so overtly recalls the Neolithic long houses of mainland Europe. Moreover, the addition of a passage and chamber, through which the dead can be repeatedly accessed, suggests the practice of ancestor cults rather than the funerary rituals associated with long mounds (Barrett 1994: 50-2).

An emphasis on long distance exchange and ritual at monumental complexes indicates the importance placed on land clearance and the use of paths for pastoralism, the exchange of objects that symbolise the tools of clearance (axes) and the exchange and feasting of domesticated animals. It also indicates the importance placed on bringing more and more people to similar places, the sharing of cultural values and world views: an expansion of the social and cultural as well as the economic landscape. Finally, the power of one network to displace and take over another would suggest the value of innovation and control, of specific ways of doing and being that include and refer to, but also transform earlier social, economic and ritual practices.

These innovations, along with the well established presence of Mesolithic groups across the Atlantic zone distribution of passage-graves, would suggest they reflected strong indigenous traditions – comparable to those indicated in the Mesolithic-early Neolithic transition in south Wales. At the same time, passage-graves possess many of the features of large

Irish and Scottish passage-graves: a Neolithic network? This tension, between the formalising and respecting of ancient, hunter-gatherer approaches to landscape and the 84

KATE PRENDERGAST: ASTRONOMY, RITUAL AND THE CREATION OF NEOLITHIC LANDSCAPES AT THE PASSAGE GRAVES scale Neolithic networks. As such, they may provide us with very direct evidence as to how such groups negotiated the uptake of farming in the context of those traditions that impeded and those that facilitated such a change.

megalithic sites, including Fourknocks and Tara. In turn, Tara is visible from all three of the major mounds in the Boyne valley - Knowth, Newgrange and Dowth (1983:69). Passage-graves and astronomy

The second is that the evolution of passage-graves across the western half of the British Isles is crucial in terms of our understanding of the emergence of the monuments and networks of the later Neolithic. Like the Yorkshire-based interaction zone, the typology and use of passage-graves may have come to influence other areas. In recognising the ways they functioned as a ‘network’, it may be possible to explore more fully and precisely exactly what it was about passagegraves that contributed to the emergence of a new set of monuments – and the practices with which they were associated - from around 3000 BC.

If we can locate a series of key features that point to the ways in which passage-graves represented places in the landscape where people gathered for exchange and ritual, there is one feature that perhaps above all others helped to articulate such gatherings. This was the focus on astronomy that became most elaborate with the building of the large sites c 3000 BC. At the Boyne valley sites, it is well established that Newgrange is oriented to the winter solstice rising sun (O’ Kelly 1983). If we take the evidence for all three large passage-graves at the Boyne valley, and their satellite passage-graves, a more complex astronomical pattern emerges. Their passages and chambers appear to be oriented to mark the movement of the winter solar cycle, from equinox to equinox, with a focus on mid-winter solar alignments at Newgrange and Dowth at the heart of the complex (Prendergast 2004).

The passage-grave network: key features Using Alison Sheridan’s five stage framework for passagegrave evolution in Ireland, it is possible to isolate key typological aspects that represent the developing role of passage-graves as ‘places of power’ (1986). Between stages one to four these included: the evolution of passages and chambers giving access to the remains of the dead, the emergence of megalithic art, the addition of ‘roof boxes’ above passage entrances and the deposition of a range of objects including beads, balls, pendant miniatures, pins and flint flakes.

Functional and complex astronomical orientations have been documented at the Loughcrew passage-graves, as has the close relationship between astronomy and megalithic art (Brennan 1983, O’ Brien et al. 1987). At Loughcrew cairn T, the light of the rising sun at spring and autumn equinox focuses a beam of light directly through the passage onto the back of the chamber (Brennan 1983:94-5). At the back of the chamber it hits stone 14, which is highly decorated with notations, wheels and solar emblems. As the shaft of light moves across the stone it focuses directly on, and frames these solar images, before moving out of the chamber.

Stage five, dated to 3100-2900 BC, represents the zenith of passage-grave construction in Ireland. Monuments of this phase include Knowth, Dowth and Newgrange at the Boyne valley, Maeve's cairn, Knocknerea, Co. Sligo, Loughcrew cairn D, and possibly the passage-graves at Tara and Fourknocks. These massive monuments have kerbs of between 50-90m in diameter, three to six times larger than other tombs in their respective clusters, and are much more elaborate versions of pre-existing forms. Features of these monumental complexes include quartz walls facing around the tomb entrance, other entrance settings and features such as standing stones, the Newgrange roof-box, decorated and finely worked stone basins and the distinct and elaborate 'official' art style covering many of the megaliths at the Boyne valley. There is also an increase in exotic and cultic items: the familiar deposits are accompanied by objects such as ceremonial maceheads and conical stone objects.

At cairn L, the beam from the rising sun on the November/February cross-quarter day enters the chamber and hits the inner standing stone. After ten minutes, the beam moves away from the standing stone and hits stone 17, the reflected light of which fully illuminates the chamber recess, with its stone basin and elaborately decorated back lintel (1983:110-1). Similar – but more elaborate – interplays between astronomy, passage-graves and rock art are evident at the Boyne valley. Brennan – and more recently Moroney (1999) have shown that the rock art in the chamber at Dowth clearly had meaning and significance in relation to its winter solstice setting sun orientation. Both Brennan (1983:127-205) and O' Brien (1988) have detailed the integral relationships between passage-grave art and the winter solstice and equinoctial orientations at Newgrange and Knowth. As Aubrey Burl has commented on the passage-graves at the Boyne valley:

Moreover, the locations of the large sites directly invoke their connections as inter-related places. In the words of Martin Brennan: The view from Loughcrew is panoramic, from the mountains near Sligo in the far west to those above Carlingford on the east coast. Visible to the naked eye from this height are a number of important 85

LANDSCAPE IN MIND The conjunction of art and astronomy in these tombs is striking. 'A tradition had long existed that the rising sun at some unspecified time, used to light up the 3-spiral stone...in the end chamber of the tomb' at Newgrange (O' Kelly 1978:111), suggesting that the spiral itself may have symbolised the sun or the journey that the dead were believed to follow (1981:247).

food production and consumption cycles whether these are based on hunting or herding, plant gathering or horticulture. Thus, we can see how a focus on the winter solstice acted to cut across the hunting and gathering and agricultural divide; of equal importance to both, the transition to agriculture represented and was represented by the innovative practice of enshrining a concern with seasonal cycles into ritual architecture, placed across the landscape.

A similar emphasis on astronomy and rock art is evident at the passage-graves on Orkney in northern Scotland. The late passage-graves, on the Mainland and other islands, are typologically almost identical to those of the Boyne valley and were probably built around the same time. Euan Mckie has demonstrated that the passage and chambers of Maes Howe – the largest and most elaborately constructed of the Orcadian passage-graves - have orientations close to and designed to mark the winter solstice setting sun (1997). In addition, the rock art at several Orcadian passage-graves is almost identical to that at the Boyne valley (David and Henshall 1989: 82-3, Eogan 1992: 124) and may have interacted in comparable ways with astronomical alignments.

If we can directly identify the place of the winter solstice as one of continuity between hunter gatherer and agricultural subsistence cycles we can therefore directly locate its importance in helping to define a network that itself invoked an ancient understanding of landscape and acted to transform it. An emphasis on winter reveals the interconnected nature of economic and cosmological understandings of landscape, since not only did it invoke ritual associated with resource availability, it also had overt cosmological symbolism. The winter solstice is the darkest point of the year and thus, as a special astronomical moment, a gateway to the heavens. The darkest point invokes a journey to death, clearly evidenced at Newgrange by the penetration of the sun through the specially constructed roof box to the burial depositions in the inner chambers. It also invokes a ‘return’, both in terms of death and a rebirth as the days get longer, but also in terms of the passing of time and the return, each year, to the same still point of the solstice. In other words, a ritual focus on the solstice invokes the play between time and its passing, and timelessness, a moment of return which is also eternal.

Astronomy and the development of networks If astronomy was such an important part of prominent passage-graves such as those at the Boyne valley, what role did it play in helping to articulate the wider network of passagegraves? Further, in what way did it represent both old – hunter gatherer - and new – agricultural - values? To frame the question more precisely: with the emphasis on the winter solstice at the Boyne valley and Maes Howe on Orkney, how and why did an emphasis on the winter solstice help to articulate such values?

If these meanings, and their reproduction across the Irish and Orcadian sites, were being invoked by and at passage-graves, this may enable us to identify how these ritual concerns helped to define the ways in which the passage-grave network was developed and elaborated. The reproduction of meanings associated with astronomy, including the winter solstice, may also help to further our understanding of the influence of this Irish-Scottish network on the emergence of the monuments of the later Neolithic.

First and most obviously, the date for gatherings at the monuments would have been structured by a moment such as the winter solstice. Such dates, and the meanings associated with them, would have provided the timing for exchanges, burials, deposition and initiation. What meanings may the winter solstice have had in relation to such ritual? Perhaps the most important thing to stress about solstice orientations is that they represent a focus on seasonality. That is, they are concerned to mark the turnings and moments in the cosmological cycle, whether annual or bigger in scale - such as solar and lunar harmonisation or the precession cycle – from a highly terrestrial perspective. A concern with the seasons – defined by the solstices and equinoxes – is one found equally with European hunter gatherers and early agriculturalists. In non-tropical latitudes, the seasons govern most resource availability whether wild or domesticated (see for example Mellars (1994) and Mithen (1994) on the highly seasonal nature of European Upper Palaeolithic and Mesolithic resource procurement strategies). They are hence of prime concern when marking key points in

Passage-graves to henges: astronomy in the later Neolithic We have already seen how the Yorkshire-based network of the earlier Neolithic displaced those of southern England from around 3300 BC. This was in turn superseded c 3000 BC by the ‘henge-Grooved Ware’ network - defined by the distribution of henges from the far north, in Orkney, as far south as Wessex in southern England (Bradley and Edmonds 1993: 179). It is generally agreed that henges – and Grooved Ware (the pottery with which the monuments were associated with) – were first found in the far north of Scotland, most likely on Orkney itself. Moreover, there is strong chronological, typological and spatial evidence to

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KATE PRENDERGAST: ASTRONOMY, RITUAL AND THE CREATION OF NEOLITHIC LANDSCAPES AT THE PASSAGE GRAVES suggest that Scottish henges emerged directly out of the late Orcadian passage-graves, built c 32-3000 BC.

reproduced across long distance monumental networks as the Neolithic gathered pace. As such, it was a core astronomical motif within the wider ritual deployment and elaboration of astronomy at Neolithic monuments. And this use of astronomy was one element in a range of architectural and ritual elements designed and used to ‘hold together’ a landscape that was still understood in terms of ancient values but which was also changing fast.

The direct evolution of northern henges and stone circles (which were often found within henge or henge-like banks and ditches) from large passage-graves has been explored in some detail (Bradley 1998a and 1998b). Bradley argues that there is little doubt that the shape of passage-graves formed the basis for the round open air monuments that followed. In addition to continuity in meanings associated with the circular monumental form, there are continuities in placing astronomy at the heart of the new henges and stone circles, and using it to define and shape ritual practice (for a general discussion of the relationship between astronomy and henges, see Burl 1983). The Ring of Brodgar, a kilometre away from Maes Howe, has clear orientations embodied into its stone circle (Ruggles 1999: 63-7). This central feature of the Orcadian henges is reproduced at other sites during the transition and development of the later Neolithic in Scotland.

Bibliography Barrett, J., (1994), Fragments From Antiquity (Oxford: Blackwells) Bergh, S., (1995), Landscape of the Monuments (Stockholm) Bradley, R., (1998a), Stone Circles and Passage Graves – a Contested Relationship, in Gibson, A. and Simpson D., (eds.), Prehistoric Ritual and Religion (Stroud, Sutton Publishing) Bradley, R., (1998b), The Significance of Monuments (London: Routledge) Bradley, R., and Edmonds, M.,(1993), Interpreting The Axe Trade (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press) Brennan, M. (1983), The Stars and the Stones (London: Thames and Hudson) Burl, A., (1983), Prehistoric Astronomy and Ritual (Aylesbury: Shire Publications) Cooney, G., (2000), Landscapes of Neolithic Ireland (London: Routledge) Cunliffe, B., (2001), Facing the Ocean. The Atlantic and its Peoples (Oxford: Oxford University Press) Davidson, J. and Henshall, A., (1989), The Chambered Cairns of Orkney (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press) Eogan, G., (1992), Scottish and Irish Passage Tombs: some comparisons and contrasts, in Sharples, N. and Sheridan A., eds. Vessels for the Ancestors. Essays on the Neolithic of Britain and Ireland in honour of Audrey Henshall (Edinburgh, Edinburgh University Press) pp. 120–8 Garwood, P., (1995), Grooved Ware Chronology Unpublished Paper Mackie, E., (1997), Maeshowe and the winter solstice. Antiquity 71, pp. 338–59 Mellars, P., (1994), The Upper Palaeolithic Revolution, in Cunliffe, B. (ed.) The Oxford Illustrated Prehistory of Europe (Oxford, Oxford University Press) Mercer, R., (1981), The excavation of a late Neolithic henge– type enclosure at Balfarg, Markinch, Fife, Scotland, 1977–78, Proc. Soc. Ant. Scot. 111, pp. 63–171 Mercer, R., (1992), Cumulative Cairn Construction and Cultural Continuity in Caithness and Orkney, in Sharples, N. and Sheridan A., eds, Vessels for the Ancestors. Essays on the Neolithic of Britain and Ireland in honour of

Although the direct typological origins of Wessex henges lies with the causewayed enclosures of the south, as the hengeGrooved Ware network developed c 3-2500 BC, they displayed an increasing convergence with northern henges. Close typological similarities exist between northern and Wessex henges, including timber circle henges such as Balfarg in northern Scotland and Durrington Walls in Wessex (Mercer 1981). Grooved ware is increasingly deposited at southern henges in a direct reproduction of practices at their northern counterparts. And astronomy is a notable feature of many of the Wessex monumental landscapes, including the great sites of Avebury and Stonehenge. What is remarkable at Stonehenge is that the astronomical evidence indicates an emphasis on the summer and winter solstices, with a particular focus on the winter solstice sun. There is strong evidence that the primary axial orientation at Stonehenge itself is to the winter solstice setting sun (North 1996). Moreover, current excavations have revealed that this was complemented by an orientation to the winter solstice rising sun at the nearby Durrington Walls henge (Owen 2007). In other words, like the Newgrange, Knowth and Dowth passage-graves at the Boyne valley and Maes Howe on Orkney, the monumental complex at Stonehenge functioned primarily as a site dedicated to astronomy and the ritual meanings associated with it, with an emphasis on the meanings associated with the winter solstice. Such a repeated emphasis on the winter solstice suggests it was a key Neolithic cult. We have explored how it helped to articulate the complex transition between hunter-gatherer and agricultural world views by representing a cosmic and cosmological ‘fixed’ point for both hunting and gathering and domestic forms of production, and the sacred meanings associated with them. We have also explored how it was 87

LANDSCAPE IN MIND Audrey Henshall (Edinburgh, Edinburgh University Press) pp. 49-61 Mithen, S., (1994), The Mesolithic Age, in Cunliffe, B. (ed.) The Oxford Illustrated Prehistory of Europe (Oxford, Oxford University Press) Moroney, A.M., (1999), Winter Sunsets at Dowth, Archaeology Ireland 13, pp. 29-31 North, J., (1996), Stonehenge. Neolithic Man and the Cosmos (London, Harper–Collins) O' Brien, T., (1988), Winter Solstice Decoration at Newgrange, Roicht Na Midhe, 3, pp. 50–9 O' Brien T., Jennings, M., and O' Brien, D., (1987), The Equinox cycle as recorded at Cairn T Loughcrew, Roicht Na Midhe 3, pp. 3–15 O' Kelly, M., (1982), Newgrange (London, Thames and Hudson) Owen, J., (2007), Stonehenge Settlement Found: Builders’ Homes, “Cult Houses”, National Geographic News: http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2007/01/07013 0-stonehenge.html (accessed 27 July 2007) Prendergast, K. (1998), The Celestial Orientation of Monuments and Social Practice in Neolithic Britain, D. Phil thesis, University of Oxford Prendergast, K. (2004), Caves of the winter sun. Synthesising the evidence for astronomical orientation at the Boyne Valley passage tombs. Riocht Na Midhe 15, pp. 12-25 Renfrew, C., (1973), Monuments, mobilisation and social organisation in neolithic Wessex, in Renfrew, (ed.) The Explanation of Culture Change: Models in Prehistory (London, Duckworth) pp. 539–558 Renfrew, C., (1979), Investigations in Orkney (=Rep. Research Comm. Soc. Antiq. London, no. 38, London) Ritchie, A. and G., (1990), The Ancient Monuments of Orkney (Edinburgh, HMSO) Ruggles, C., (1999), Astronomy in Prehistoric Britain and Ireland (London, Yale University Press) Sheridan, A., (1986), Megaliths and megalomania: an account, and interpretation, of the development of passage tombs in Ireland, Journal of Irish Archaeology 3, pp.17–30 Sheridan, A. (2003), French Connections I: spreading the marmites thinly, in Armit, I. et al. (eds) Neolithic Settlement in Ireland and Western Britain (Oxford, Oxbow Books) Tilley, C., (1994), A Phenomenology of Landscape. Places, Paths and Monuments (Oxford/Providence, Berg)

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What was the nature of the relationship between man and natural space at the Neolithic stone circles at Avebury in Southern England? G. Terence Meaden Introduction

What did the stones mean?

Avebury is the biggest complex of megalithic circles and avenues in the Neolithic world. Forever open, one can walk freely among the circles that comprise the biggest stone circles ever built. One can walk the 1.35 km perimeter of the high circular bank, and descend several metres into the abyss of the great circular fosse or ditch. Or one can follow the line of the grandest stone circle, diameter 335 metres, perimeter 1.1 km. The construction is gargantuan, and the daring of the planners ambitious for such an early time in prehistory, between 4800 and 4000 years ago. In fact, work began on Avebury’s stone circles long before the first pyramids in as Avebury became the centre of a vast sacred landscape dotted with stone settings, burial places and earthworks.

One must begin by picturing Avebury as it was when the builders completed their work 4000 years ago. Avebury was in its prime. The stones are known locally as ‘sarsen stones’. They are found as polygonal remnants about a metre thick, the result of the cracking of the sandstone beds that lay on the chalk of the dry valleys in the hills all about. Thus, sarsen is a species of sandstone that is found naturally as individual unquarried rocks. In three valleys just a few kilometres east and south-east of Avebury thousands of such stones still lie partly buried in the turf. ‘Sarsen’ is a word of ancient origin. In Wiltshire dialect the pronunciation is sassen. In parts of India the same archaic word—also pronounced sassen or sasan—is assigned to megaliths. Thus in Jharkhand state, eastern India, dolmens and megaliths are called Sasandiri. ‘Diri’ used alone means ‘stone’. Sasan and diri are neither Sanskrit nor Hindu. A local prehistorian, Mr. Subhashis Das, explains that they come from an Austric language spoken by non-Hindu tribals, and that the Austric-Mundaric languages were once widely spoken by such Indians.

What do we know of the philosophy of the people who built Avebury? How did they relate the space contained actually and symbolically inside the stone circles with the wider landscape that extends to the surrounding hills? In this paper it is proposed that Avebury’s stone circles were planned so that the medium of hard enduring stone would express visually, and define symbolically, fundamental anthropological aspects of the people’s ideas about the aesthetic relationship of their sacred soil with the outer landscape and the sky.

To understand the meaning of Avebury’s stones (their emplacements and attributes) the starting point is the proposal by Piggott and Keiller (1936) that the Ancient Britons probably regarded the megaliths (depending on shape) as male or female. Similar reasoning is known for early cultures across Europe, Asia and other continents. Archaeologist Isobel Smith, who saw to the publication of the results of the excavations of Keiller and Piggott (Smith 1965) articulated their collected view of the shapes of Avebury’s stones thus: There are Type A stones which are much taller than they are wide, with sides more or less parallel and vertical, which are possibly male; whereas Type B stones are much wider, sometimes broader than their height and are possibly female. The latter are squarish, rhomboidal, or trapezium-like, while the best have the shape of a lozenge or diamond balanced on a point.

Avebury’s Sarsen Stones Avebury has two stone avenues and three stone circles. More than 600 great sarsen stones were dragged from the hills to create this ‘megalopolis’, with its array of megalithic and astronomical alignments. We consider first the southern circle, diameter 105 metres. It is partly destroyed but at one time it comprised 29 megaliths around the circumference and it had a single tall stone in the middle. This stone, high and narrow, called the Obelisk was the tallest stone at Avebury. It was measured by the antiquarian William Stukeley in 1723 and found to be 21 feet or 6.5 metres long. At 80 tonnes it would have been one of Avebury’s heaviest. Although many stones are missing due to eight centuries of destruction by Christian villagers, the positions of lost stones are closely known from the deep hollows chiseled into the hard subsurface chalk bedrock.

This reasoning has stood the test of time and scholarship. In fact, it also incorporates the wider view that the deities of Neolithic agricultural communities included in various ways, more or less manifest, an Earth Mother and a Sky Father. We know this from written sources for numerous societies across the world, and it can be inferred for many prehistoric societies too. Indeed there are countries where similar deification and devotion continues to this day (as with

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FIGURE 1. SOME OF THE SUNRISE AND SUNSET FEATURES TENTATIVELY DEDUCED FOR STONES OF AVEBURY’S INNER CIRCLES. SUCH INFERENCES IMPLY A RITUAL INTEREST IN, AND LINKS BETWEEN, STONES OF THE CIRCLES AND BOTH THE DISTANT LANDSCAPE AND SOLAR MOVEMENTS THROUGH THE YEAR. A SOLAR CALENDAR FOR PRINCIPAL DATES OF THE AGRICULTURAL YEAR IS MANIFEST BY THIS MEANS.

American Native Indians, and numerous tribal inhabitants of India, Nepal and Borneo among others).

marked today by a short pyramidal concrete pillar. Being 6.5 metres long, if we suppose that one metre of its length was held in the bedrock, the great stone rose 5.5 metres above ground level. It was the tallest stone at Avebury—and it was a male stone (Fig. 1).

Authorities in symbolism infer that all surviving perimeter stones at Avebury are ‘female stones’ either because of their feminine shape (as defined above) or because there are female-explicit symbols on them. This implies that each stone circle encloses female sacred space. In other words, every circle would be a womb-shrine to the Earth Mother, as with today’s Hindu temples which are womb-shaped and have an icon of the male deity positioned in the innermost sanctuary which is the womb-cell.

The stones of the circumference of the South Inner Circle are female stones. For archaeological convenience they are numbered 101, 102, 103, 105 and 106. In the middle of the east-facing side of Stone 106 is a fissure a metre long having female characteristics. It aligns with the male Obelisk and the direction of sunrise on May Day which was likely to have been 6 May in prehistoric times, because this day is the exact mid-point (Day 46) between the equinox and midsummer’s day. May Day is traditionally the first day of summer. At Avebury the rising sun unites male and female stones with the male stone’s shadow, after which light and warmth infuse the expectant female stone, which arguably represents the Earth Mother. This is the Ancient British version of the worldwide

The Great Seasonal Calendar that is the Southern Stone Circle Of the 29 stones originally placed around the perimeter of the South Inner Circle only five survive (more may lie buried). At the centre was the Obelisk stone, its position 90

G. TERENCE MEADEN: WHAT WAS THE NATURE OF THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN MAN AND NATURAL SPACE rite of the Marriage of the Gods. The sunshine-and-shadow trick signifies the actual mating of the Sky Father with the fertile Earth Mother.

respectively, solar alignments of calendrical type exist for the standing stones. For the North Circle, midsummer sunrise and the opposing midwinter sunset are the two calendar dates that can be recognised. For the South Circle, in which the existence of surviving stones is complemented by stone-hole knowledge where stones are absent, a full agricultural calendar has been re-established (Fig. 1). The calendar was created by respecting the sun’s appearance and disappearance at sunset and sunrise—thus uniting monumental astronomy with festival dates and corresponding rituals. The landscape philosophy is objectively practical because it displays a visual symbolic or mystical linkage between sun and stone for spectators to witness. For it is easily shown that the Obelisk’s shadow would fall on Stone 106 of the South Circle every May Day at sunrise, and upon Stone 105 at midsummer sunrise. These two major perimeter stones still stand in their original holes (Smith 1965; Meaden 1999, 28). Quoting Fowler and Blackwell (1999, Ch. 11) “the whole [Avebury] landscape was dedicated to the gods and goddess of sky and earth, and especially to the Sun God.” This corresponds well with the suggested thesis regarding deduced relationships between Neolithic monumental archaeology, religion and the evidence of deposition (Meaden 1999).

Next is Stone 105 with its feminine circular outline. It experiences Sacred Marriage with the Sun God or Sky Father on Midsummer’s Day, 21 June. A good place for spectators to view these sunrises is from the great henge bank in the west. In fact, all the positions occupied by megaliths between the south-west and north-west correspond to sunrises with respect to the Obelisk, and they conform to specific dates in the farming year. The same is true for the megaliths in the sector between south-east and north-east, because these stones receive the mating shadow of the Obelisk as the sun sets in the west. In summary, although some megaliths are now missing, the known positions of the stones of the South Circle allow a complete reconstruction of the agricultural calendar that is appropriate for a Neolithic farming community. . The Northern Stone Circle The north circle comprised 27 perimeter stones centred by three great stones. The weight of the middle stone approaches 100 tonnes. Together they form a combination called a Cove, in which the broad central stone of Type B female character is flanked by a tall Type A male megalith at each side. Crucial is the recognition that the cove faces the midsummer sunrise, and that on this morning the iconic female cove stone is bathed in the light of the rising sun until the shadow of a well-positioned male megalith completes the midsummer marriage.

These discoveries of Avebury’s megalithic astronomy provide practical evidence for a strong third-millennium interest in the facets of the annual cycle as one might expect from settled farmers. Planters and cultivators, above all, seek to control, as best they know, the viability and fertility of land and crops by recourse to sun and weather, all of which are linked to the spreading diversity of material culture. One may envisage an environmental task proscribed for an official sun watcher at Avebury to monitor the behaviour of the rising sun and the Obelisk’s shadow, in order to prepare the tribal community for key announcements of forthcoming agricultural festivals and relevant ritual activities. Examples could include dates considered portentous for ploughing, planting, hoeing, weeding, and harvesting. Therefore one may envisage for Avebury the actuality and opportunity for regular ritual practice, crucially involving monumental astronomy in its most direct form. Ultimately, everything revolves around understandable concerns for the fertility of people, animals, vegetation and crops.

A Monumental Landscape in Wessex There are additional cult stones in the surrounding hills. Two kilometres away, in the east, the author has found megaliths (but fallen) still in position after four thousand years that relate to the calendar stones of the Avebury stone circles. Their positions are marked on Figure 2. The whole landscape was devised to serve ritual anthropological aims. It was created by humans in order to connect the internal limited space of the stone circles with the hills of the wider landscape, and the sun beyond that.

Avebury’s stone circles were intrinsically shrines to the Earth Mother, having a cultic significance no less than the Hindu temples of India that are still sacred today. With links to the hills it is an expression of what may be called ‘anthropomorphic territory’ across the landscape.

In the Later Neolithic, populations in Britain and Ireland raised fine monuments, some of them enormous, aweinspiring, and seemingly executed with relish and audacity. It has been argued that the purpose was to furnish architectural and spiritual links between the monuments, standing stones and natural features of hill and horizon, sometimes plainly involving astronomical matters—especially sunrises and sunsets. Their execution at Avebury was achieved with flair and grandeur.

From the centres of Avebury’s North and South Circles which harbour the Cove and the 6-metre long Obelisk

Whatever other functional purposes may have been served by particular monuments, they and their surrounding landscapes

Concluding Remarks

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FIGURE 2. THE INFERRED LINKS BETWEEN THE AVEBURY MEGALITHS AND ADDITIONAL MEGALITHS LOCATED IN THE HILLS OF THE OUTER LANDSCAPE. THIS DISPLAYS THE WIDER ‘RITUAL’ IMPLICATIONS (ALL WITH ASTRONOMICAL ASSOCIATIONS) WITH WHICH THE PEOPLE VIEWED THE LAND IN SIGHT OF AVEBURY’S HENGE AND CIRCLES.

were viewed as having a symbolic, mystical and ancestral significance that was at least partly interrelated with annual astronomical events. Such philosophies and procedures augment a society’s sense of history and affinity for the ancestral past in providing a stage for social, spiritual and ceremonial functions. By ritualising the landscape and forging an intimate relationship between people and monuments, the ancient Britons devised a memorable native tradition. Their aim, as mostly everywhere worldwide, was to improve their chances for prosperity, which they did by seeking to allay their natural concerns for fertility by calling on gods and spirits for divine aid and support.

References Fowler, P. and Blackwell, I. (1999). The Land of Lettice Sweetapple. Tempus, Stroud. 121 and 123. Keiller, A. and Piggott, S. (1936). The West Kennet Avenue: Excavations 1934-35. Antiquity, 10, 417-427 [especially 420] Meaden, G. T. (1999). Secrets of the Avebury Stones. Souvenir, London. Smith, Isobel F. (1965). Windmill Hill and Avebury. Clarendon, Oxford. [The positions of Avebury’s stone holes (as found by Alexander Keiller) for missing stones are indicated on the ground by concrete markers and on plans given in this book]. Stukeley, W. (1741). Abury.

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Gesture, Image, Architecture: how fire and rock art may have behaved in the passage graves of Anglesey, North Wales George Nash have each placed the two monuments into a wider context showing that an Irish Sea Province existed during the Late Neolithic. Based on their architecture, the two Anglesey passage graves – Barclodiad y Gawres and Bryn Celli Ddu – possess similar traits to passage graves that stand in the Boyne Valley (Newgrange, Knowth and Dowth) and monuments that form the Loughcrew group (Co. Meath). Barclodiad y Gawres and Bryn Celli Ddu have both been extensively excavated, the former in 1953 by Terence Powell and Glyn Daniel, the latter between 1925 and 1929 by W.J. Hemp.

Introduction There are three highly decorated passage graves recorded in England and Wales that date to the Late Neolithic (26002000 cal. BC). Two of these monuments, Barclodiad y Gawres and Bryn Celli Ddu, are located in Anglesey and have in their recent history been excavated and restored (Plates 1 & 2). It can be argued that some artistic license as to what they might have looked like has been applied to both. The third monument, the remains of which are located in a public park in Liverpool, was completely destroyed during the early part of the 19th century. A possible fourth monument, Bryn yr Hen Bobl, within the parish of Llanedwen, arguably possesses many passage grave traits. This monument, located several kilometres west of Bryn Celli Ddu, has a short passage and rectangular chamber that is incorporated into a kidneyshaped mound. The passage has a porthole-type threshold that opens to a drystone walled façade. The dominant material used to construct the passage and chamber is limestone. The two Anglesey monuments, Barclodiad y Gawres and Bryn Celli Ddu, form part of a larger Atlantic tradition of passage grave monuments that contain megalithic art. This tradition extends from the Iberian Peninsula, to Brittany, Ireland and as far north as Scotland.

The passage grave tradition, initially dating to around the mid-5th millennium BC is believed to have originated in the Iberian Peninsula and moved northwards into a number of Neolithic core areas, where passage grave building was considered important. It is probable that the idea to build Barclodiad y Gawres and nearby Bryn Celli Ddu originated from the monument builders of central Ireland, through contact and exchange, with farming groups occupying the fertile soils of for instance, the Boyne Valley where the enormous passage graves of Newgrange, Knowth and Dowth stand (Herity 1970, Lynch 2000). Based on the archaeological evidence from excavated burial monuments in Wales it is probable that there is an integral relationship between architecture and fire. The architectural traits that are incorporated into each of the monuments, including those in Ireland and within the southern Atlantic zone, may have been specifically designed in order to establish and manipulate the ambience created by fire. A third element that embraces both fire and architecture and that is found incorporated into a number of passage graves throughout the Atlantic zone (and the Irish Sea Province) is megalithic art. This element has been extensively catalogued by SheeTwohig (1981) and recently discussed by Lynch 2000, Nash (2006), Nash et al. (2005) and Nash and Stanford (2007). Megalithic art comprises various forms of chevrons, concentric circles, cupmarks (or cupules), lines, lozenges, serpentine forms, zigzag lines. The present writer (Nash 2006, 25-6) has shown that these generic forms along with other symbols found elsewhere within the passage grave tradition are possibly arranged in such a way that collectively they represent a language or at least a visual concept that was both meaningful and powerful to the builders and users of the monument. Much of this art is found within the dark and hidden recesses of the monument and is not visible to those who would have stood within the façade area. This restricted visual access has been identified at Newgrange (O’Kelly 1982), Knowth (Eogan 1986) and more recently at

From the various excavation reports there appears to be large quantities of charcoal found within the main access areas (e.g. façade, passage and chamber). Based on the spread of charcoal, fire can be considered an important element within the use of the monument. The quantity of charcoal present at the Anglesey sites, especially within the façade areas, suggests that ritual activity, including body internment, may have taken place at night (Nash 2007). This paper will focus discussion on the location and use of fire within the access areas of each of the two surviving passage grave monuments. It is clear from the archaeological excavations undertaken at the two Anglesey sites that the façade, passage and chamber areas were illuminated by fire and in the case of the façade and chamber area, fire was also used for cooking of food and possibly the cremation of the dead. Overview An overview of the passage grave tradition in Anglesey has been extensively researched by Cooney (2000), Daniel (1950), Joussaume (1985), Lynch (1969a, 1970, 2000) and Nash (2006). Herity (1970) and later Joussaume and Cooney 93

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PLATES 1 & 2. TWO PASSAGE GRAVES IN ANGLESEY; BARCLODIAD Y GAWRES AND BRYN CELLI DDU (PHOTOGRAPHS BY ADAM STANFORD AND GEORGE NASH). The third passage grave monument under discussion, the destroyed Calderstones monument in Liverpool, is arguably the most ornately decorated megalithic site in Britain (Cowell 1981; Nash 2006). However, both the original form and location are now lost. The six surviving stones, now standing within a purpose-built pagoda, show evidence of a number of carving episodes. On several stones both the inner and outer faces have been carved, probably at different times. It is probable that, as with the decoration at Barclodiad y Gawres, the art was strategically placed in order that it might be seen from different vantage points either within inner recesses of the passage or within the chamber area. However, unlike Barclodiad y Gawres, the rock-art on the Calderstones is carved rather than pecked. Despite some of the motifs

Barclodiad y Gawres (Nash 2006), Nash et al. (2006), Mazel et al. (2007) and Nash & Stanford (forthcoming). In terms of Neolithic burial monumentality in Wales, megalithic art is found only at the two Anglesey monuments in question. In Anglesey there are also some isolated stones with megalithic symbols that may have originated from now lost or destroyed monuments, e.g. Llwydiarth Esgob, Anglesey [at SH 436 844] (Darvill & Wainwright 2003; Sharkey 2004).1 1 The Reverend Henry Rowlands of nearby Plas Gwyn in 1727 records that the cairn was “somewhat broke and pitted into on one side, where the stones had been carry’d away” (see Hemp 1931, 216). Later in 1802, the Reverend Skinner noted that a number of monuments that had been or were being destroyed including a probable passage grave close to the Bryn Celli Ddu monument (see Newall 1931, 259).

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GEORGE NASH: GESTURE, IMAGE, ARCHITECTURE: HOW FIRE AND ROCK ART MAY HAVE BEHAVED IN THE PASSAGE GRAVES having weathered over the millennia, the carvings on the Calderstones would have been deeply incised. This type of carving technique would have created a different ambience, casting longer and sharper shadows across the stones when illuminated.

26 cup marks on an outcropping rock that lies roughly 250m north-west of Bryn Celli Ddu (Nash et al. 2005, 12). Another recognised trait found at Bryn Celli Ddu and recorded at a large number of passage graves is stone rubble blocking. This late phase marks the final demise of the monument as a place of interment (e.g. La Hougue Bie, Jersey, see Nash 1998). Hemp described the outer passage as having a carefully and elaborately stone-blocked deposit (1931, 226).

The three elements of architecture, art and fire appear to have provided a sensual interplay that would have transformed a series of spaces into ambient places. The illumination and use of fire within these places is, along with the art, a ritual construct that could have manipulated human actions that alas do not survive the archaeological record. It is clear that within contemporary burial and mortuary practices the ambience created from light and sound would have played an essential part of the performance, and based on the fragmentary evidence at Barclodiad y Gawres and Bryn Celli Ddu similar practices were in operation (e.g. Devereux 2001). Monumentality by Fire As stated earlier, and based on the archaeological evidence, fire appears to be present within the key areas of the monument. The present writer (Nash 2007) has identified that fire would have been used to illuminate various parts of the monument including the megalithic art. When illuminated, the art within the monument would have acted as markers whereby the living - as well as the dead - would have accessed the various areas of the monument according to a proscribed ‘protocol’. Once in the chamber area fire would have illuminated the art within certain parts of the chamber where only the dead could (metaphysically) view it (ibid.).

FIGURE 1. LANDSCAPE POSITION OF BRYN CELLI DDU (DRAWN BY ABBY GEORGE) The present plan of the site includes a 26m-diameter mound that has been reconstructed. The western section of the site has no mound and the central pit and a concrete copy of a decorated stone, known as the Pattern Stone, stands close by (Figure 2). The mound is delineated by a series of kerbstones. These stones overlie a substantial ditch that, according to Hemp (ibid. 237) was around c. 2.2m deep. Hemp interpreted this feature, along with a ring of stones, to be an earlier henge monument.

The following discussion will look at the excavation accounts from the two Anglesey passage graves. In my view, both excavations were undertaken with integrity and despite the absence of chronometric dating techniques and the scientific apparatus available used in modern excavations, both accounts tantalisingly described the location and ‘movement’ of charcoal within the key areas of each monument. The presence and location of this material clearly, in my view, indicates that fire, either as a means of illumination or for feasting, played an integral role during performances associated with the internment of the dead.

Incorporated into the mound is a small façade located within the eastern section of the site. This façade funnels westwards towards a narrow passage that extends some 8.5m towards the centre of the mound. The passage opens out into a polygonal chamber, measuring 2.5m in diameter. At some point in the historical period, the chamber roof has been supported by a large stone pillar. Based on a comprehensive description of the monument in 1802 by the Reverend Skinner it appears that a second but smaller circular monument was located some 15m to the south (see Newall 1931). Some of the surviving architecture within the present monument such as the pillar and the general layout of the passage and chamber are also described by Skinner. An antiquarian engraving by A. G. Hanlon (after H. Longueville Jones) of the site published in Archaeologia Cambrensis (1847) shows Bryn Celli Ddu as much ruined, consisting of a confused entrance and passage and an exposed chamber (Figure 3). There appears to be little or no trace of any mound. Therefore much of the destruction had occurred sometime after Skinner’s visit in 1802. The second mound,

1. Bryn Celli Ddu This monument, located in the parish of Llanddaniel-Fab can be considered as one of the most important Neolithic monuments in North Wales. The monument is located on a low ridge of a glacial moraine at around 33m AOD and close to the Menai Straits and has extensive views of the Snowdonia Mountains (Figure 1). Despite Bryn Celli Ddu dating to the Late Neolithic, it probably has some temporal association with nearby Bronze Age monuments such as the standing stone that is located in a field some 200m west of the monument. Also worth noting is the recent discovery of 95

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FIGURE 2. THE PATTERN STONE DESIGN (FROM SHEE-TWOHIG 1981)

FIGURE 3. VIEW OF BRYN CELLI DDU BY A. G. HANLON (1847) 96

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PLATE 3. THE ENTRANCE AND OUTER PASSAGE AREA AT BRYN CELLI DDU (PHOTOGRAPH: G.H. NASH)

As with Barclodiad y Gawres, this monument also possesses megalithic art and has two decorated stones; one was originally lying over a central pit, the other in the chamber. An anti-clockwise spiral approximately 13cm in diameter is carved on one of the southern chamber uprights.3 Although the art inside the monument is restricted to a small spiral, the plan of the passage and chamber appears to conform to other passage grave monuments, suggesting a regional blueprint. The constriction of the narrow passage and the deliberate position of the two chamber stones that demarcate the space between inner passage and chamber suggest that the visual access to the chamber would have been impeded (Plate 3). A similar observation has been recognised for passage graves in Västergötland, southern Sweden (Tilley 1991). Although megalithic art can be considered visually important, the subtle use of architecture is also essential in providing – or restricting - visual information. Tilley recognised that the passage space was neither within the land of the living nor dead, and thus labelled it liminal space (ibid. 68).

and probably part of the mound of Bryn Celli Ddu, had been used to construct a field boundary at around the time of Skinner’s visit. The site was first excavated by Captain F. du Bois Lukis in 1865. In letters to his brother, the Reverend W. C. Lukis, Captain Lukis describes how he excavated the chamber area and found a small piece of lead and a flint ‘instrument’. However, there is no mention of excavation methodology, nor the presence of charcoal. Later excavations by Hemp between 1925 and 1929 revealed a complex history to the site (Hemp 1931). It is this excavation report, rather than later synthesises,2 that exposes the importance of fire within the realms of death and burial deposition. Based on his report, Hemp appears to have undertaken a reasonable and systematic excavation for his time, although some of his interpretation has been questioned (see above and Nash 2006, 109-10). Nevertheless, Hemp does mention a number of deposits and features that suggest likely Neolithic ritual deposition that involves the three elements – architecture, art and fire. 2

3

This motif is scratched rather than pecked into the relatively soft sandstone. As a result of the technique used, I suspect that this motif may not be contemporary with the construction and original use of the monument and may be much later.

See Lynch 1969a and 1969b.

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LANDSCAPE IN MIND represented, according to Hemp, a wattle hurdled screen, possibly constructed of pine staves. Immediately behind (to the east) this structure was a shallow scooped-out pit containing the remains of an ox. The ox burial was considered by Hemp to be much later, probably historical in date. Also within the entrance area were two hearths. The presence of the post-holes and the two hearths suggests that some form of ritual activity was being conducted within the entrance and forecourt area, possibly a preparation ceremony where the body or the remains of the deceased were finally paraded before the ensemble, prior to interment. If the remains of the ox are contemporary with the Neolithic activity, then the burial may represent some form of offering to the dead to consume during their journey to the other world; an act widely recorded in the ethnographic record. During the Hemp excavation, nearly all the access areas of the site were excavated and within these areas quantities of charcoal were found, thus reinforcing the notion that fire was integral to the use of the monument. Due to the previous antiquarian excavation undertaken by Lukis, some areas of the mound had been severely disturbed. However, sections of the floor within the passage area revealed a clay wall which was banked against the northern uprights. Cremated and unburnt human bone, albeit a limited assemblage was recovered from the passage area, together with human teeth. Based on Hemp’s account it appears that larger quantities of human bone were present. Small fragments of bone were also found in the cracks of a small paved area (Hemp 1931, 228).

PLATE 4. STONE C16 (PHOTOGRAPH: ADAM STANFORD)

Outside the passage and chamber areas, the other stone, known as the ‘Pattern Stone’ made of local schist was found lying prostrate over a possible ritual pit in the centre of the monument. The pit was originally covered by the Pattern Stone and cut into the natural gravels. According to Hemp, the base of the pit had been ‘scorched and hardened by fire’. On top of this surface were fragments of charcoal, a piece of unburnt hazel wood and burnt human bone, including an ear bone (Hemp 1931, 235). The complex decoration of the ‘Pattern Stone’ comprised on its upper face a clockwise spiral which is linked to a meandering curvilinear pattern, referred to by Shee-Twohig as a serpentine form (1981, 230). This design extends to other faces of the stone. Also present on the same stone is a single cup-mark. According to Hemp, the Pattern Stone is believed to belong to an earlier henge phase (Hemp 1931, 237-41). This interpretation has been questioned by Nash (2006) who suggests that the decoration is consistent with other forms of megalithic art found elsewhere, in particular on Stone C16 at Barclodiad y Gawres (Plate 4). It could be the case that the Pattern Stone, which is located around 1m west of the western section of the chamber, was [ritually] placed over the pit when the passage grave was constructed, maybe sealing and ending an older tradition and site.

Burnt and unburnt human bone was recorded within the chamber area, along with limpet shells, a flint knife and charcoal. The quantity of charcoal is, alas, not known. Furthermore, it is not known whether this charcoal formed a concentrated spread (representing a possible hearth), or was the result of a burning torch. Extending eastwards from the inner passage into the outer passage was a well-preserved stone blocking deposit that strategraphically post-dates the Late Neolithic use of the monument. Amongst this deposit there was cremated human bone, probably the result of floor disturbance whilst the passage was blocked. At the eastern edge of the blocking deposit was further cremated bone. Accompanying the bone was an array of material including broken pebbles, quartz and a large quantity of charcoal. This charcoal formed a concentrated spread and probably represented a small fire or hearth (ibid. 230). Moving further east into the façade area further charcoal spreads were noted, representing two possible ritual hearths which were excavated underneath the later blocking material. The larger hearth was located within the central area of the façade area and was regarded, quite rightly by Hemp, as ‘ceremonial’ (ibid. 231). The two hearths within the façade were incorporated into a paved area of flat stones that were set in clay.

Just outside the entrance area was an arc delineated by five post-holes (all containing carbonised wood) that may have

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FIGURE 4. LANDSCAPE LOCATION OF BARCLODIAD Y GAWRES (DRAWN BY ABBY GEORGE)

In front of the entrance and within the small façade area, and partially obscuring the view into the passage and chamber, was a small mound of stones that were set in clay (standing around 0.20m in height). Incorporated into the southern side of this feature was a large quantity of burnt human bone that was lying in a small shallow pit (representing less than 50 percent of an adult male human skeleton).

monuments found in the Boyne Valley of central Ireland (Lynch 1967, 1-22). This monument appears to have suffered the damage typically associated with antiquarian excavation. Used as a stone quarry in the 18th century, most of the contents, including archaeological deposits from the chambers, were removed. In 1869 H. Prichard published a full description of the site including a plan of the passage and part of the chamber, but made reference to the destruction of the monument. It was photographed in 1900 by J. E. Griffith and was surveyed by W. F. Grimes in the mid 1930s (Grimes 1936). In his research, Grimes concluded that the monument was a passage grave of the style ‘of Newgrange and other Irish sites’. Despite its turbulent antiquarian history Barclodiad y Gawres is regarded as one of the most ornately decorated burial monuments in Britain.

Apart from the access area, evidence of fire occurred in one other place. When Hemp undertook the final part of his excavation in 1929, he concentrated on the ditch or circle that extended underneath the standing monument. In the base of several excavated sections of the ditch, black stained soils were uncovered, suggesting that a series of fires had been ignited (ibid. 239). The use of these fires remains unclear. 2. Barclodiad y Gawres

The site was excavated between 1952 and 1953 by Terrence Powell and Glyn Daniel (1956). The megalithic art has been described by Lynch (1967, 1969a, 1970). Discussion on how this art was illuminated has been undertaken by Nash (2006, 2007) and, following the recent discovery of megalithic art in the eastern chamber, by Nash & Stanford (2007). Following the excavation in 1953, a concrete domed roof that threw much of the internal architecture into darkness encased the chamber and passage areas. The restoration programme had also assisted in recreated a similar ambience to that experienced during the Neolithic.

This impressive passage grave, also referred to as Mynnedd Cnwc or Mynydd y Cnwc, lies 19m AOD on the southern part of a small promontory headland overlooking an inlet known as Porth Trecastell (Figure 4). The circular mound, measuring around 29m in diameter is constructed of stone rubble and peat layers, and was partially damaged by the 19th century landowner who used the rubble to construct a field boundary wall. The passage, measuring approximately 6m, leads to a cruciform passage which has a series of six uprights decorated with chevrons, lozenges, spirals and zigzag designs. These designs, which have been pecked rather than carved, are similar to decorated uprights at Bryn Celli Ddu and at 99

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FIGURE 5. PLAN OF THE PASSAGE AND CHAMBER AT BARCLODIAD Y GAWRES (ADAPTED FROM SHEE-TWOHIG 1981) Prior to the recent discovery, finely pecked decoration was known on Stones 5 (L8), 6 (C1) 8(C3), 22 (C13) and 19 (C16) [Figure 5] (Shee-Twohig 1981, 229). Stone 5 is decorated with lozenges and vertical zigzags; Stone 6 exhibits a conjoined circular motif, lozenges and vertical zigzags; on Stones 8 and 19 are a series of spirals and a series of unrecognisable motifs. Finally, on Stone 22 there is a spiral, with supporting motifs, lozenges, a horizontal chevron band and a series of vertical zigzags. This particular stone bears some resemblance to the decorated ‘Pattern Stone’ at Bryn Celli Ddu. All five stones have their decoration facing into the chamber. These designs, considered by many to represent ritual and symbolic power, may have their origins in southwestern Europe or Ireland (Nash 2007, 118-20). Further pecked art was revealed in 2001, located on an upright stone that formed the northern wall of the eastern chamber (Stone C2). The original discovery made by Maggie and Keith Davidson was subsequently placed on the Internet and went largely unnoticed by the academic world. The fineness of the pecking had helped to conceal them until recently. In February 2006 a rock-art team visited the site and independently recorded the stone using a variety of techniques including time-lapse digital photography and tracing on acetate (Nash et al. 2005; Nash & Stanford forthcoming).

chevron extends to the western edge of the stone and onto the side face. Centrally placed on this side face is the lower section of a single lozenge measuring around 22cm x 19cm. Apart from the chevron design there appears to be another phase of pecking, suggesting superimposition. The horizontal lines that construct the chevron appear to have been either extended or were carved over an earlier design comprising of a series of four horizontal lines. Artistic elements on this stone have similar design traits with other decorated stones within the inner passage and chamber area and with several stones that once formed the now-destroyed passage grave near Calderstones Park in Liverpool (e.g. Stone A, Shee-Twohig fig. 261, Forde-Johnson 1956). The designs therefore may be the result of a two phases of artistic endeavour and may have been executed by an individual artist or school of artists returning to the site, probably the same person or group who pecked other stones within the monument.

The decoration on the newly discovered stone comprises a series of vertical and horizontally pecked lines that form a large chevron (Figure 6). These lines, located on the inward face converge towards the centre of the stone and merge into a lightly pecked disc, measuring around 4cm in diameter. The

Due to the post-medieval disturbance and digging, evidence for fire within this monument is limited to the chamber. The hearth, approximately 1m in diameter, contained a mixture of charcoal and stone chips. Also recovered were an assemblage of shells, fish bones, and the remains of amphibians, reptiles and small mammals (see below).

Following a detailed study of the monument in 2006 it was revealed that the original excavation team had missed this and several other stones that also contained rock-art, including stones within the western chamber, each of which possessed several cupmarks. A single cupmark was also recorded on the north-eastern corner of the capstone which covers the southern chamber.

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FIGURE 6. TRACING OF THE NEWLY DISCOVERED MEGALITHIC ART (C2) LOCATED WITHIN THE EASTERN CHAMBER (DRAWN BY ADAM STANFORD)

Similar to Bryn Celli Ddu, a large stone rubble blocking deposit was discovered which covered the turf-line that once formed the natural surface of the hill on which the monument now stands. Charcoal flecking was limited within the passage. This may be in part due to good house-keeping; according to Powell and Daniel the ‘floor had a remarkably clean appearance’ (ibid. 13).

distinctive red colouring, which was caused by the surrounding soil, but there was little evidence of acute fire activity. Professor Pumphrey concluded that a special fire had been lit and allowed to cool, resulting in a mass of glowing embers. A ‘stew’ containing the meat of fish, amphibians and small mammals was then poured over the hearth. This stew may have been the remnants of a ritual feast. The hearth, although showing evidence for ritual cooking, would have also been utilised for illumination. The size of the hearth suggests that a substantial fire would have illuminated the entire chamber space, including the six decorated stones that were, in my view, strategically placed to face towards the centre of the chamber (where the hearth was located). The fine pecking employed on each of the stones would have been further exaggerated, as the fire created incised shadows across the stones. The shadows cast from the flickering flames would have made many of these designs, in particular the curvilinear and circular designs on Stones C1 and C16, move and dance. This would have added a foreboding atmosphere to the chamber space.

The hearth, located within the chamber area, can be considered one of the most important discoveries from this excavation. This feature, measuring approximately 1m in diameter and 0.10m in thickness sat immediately over the turf floor. The thickness of the heath suggests that it may have been used more than once. The hearth contained many large chunks of charcoal that were incorporated into a ‘sticky’ grey ashy soil matrix. In the southern part of the hearth was a compressed deposit containing marine shells including limpet and oyster shell fragments. Overlying this deposit and extending over the hearth was a layer of smooth stone pebbles. This feature probably represented the final use of the hearth and maybe also the final use of the monument. A sample of the hearth was analysed by Professor R.J. Pumphrey who revealed over 200 bone fragments mainly ranging between 8 and 16mm in size. All bone was stained with a

Despite disturbance from antiquarian digging, there was evidence for fire and cremation of human bones found in the three antechambers that radiate from the main chamber. Within the southern chamber the floor had been severely 101

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PLATE 5. THE SPIRAL STONE (C3) LOCATED WITHIN THE EASTERN CHAMBER (PHOTOGRAPH: ADAM STANFORD)

disturbed, however, in the four corners the remains of the original floor surface had survived. From this floor surface small quantities of cremated human bone and charcoal were recovered (ibid. 18). A similar assemblage was also recovered from the eastern chamber.

Brief Discussion As suggested earlier, it appears that in some of these spaces all three elements – architecture, art and fire – were fundamental. Fire provided the heat, means of cooking and perhaps most importantly, illumination, whilst architecture and art provided the canvas for illumination. Based on the archaeological evidence, each of these elements was clearly defined and each had their place within the various spaces of the monument. The façade would have been used for (ritual) cooking and feasting and it is probable that this activity took place at night (Nash 2006). The curvilinear shape of the façade would have created a partly enclosed theatre whereby the audience and the participants, including the dead would have interacted. In order to reach the resting-places within the chamber, the participants and the dead would have had to negotiate the long passage, sometimes crouching down in order to progress through the various sections of the passage. The archaeological evidence within the passages of both monuments suggests that fire was used in order to illuminate this area of the monument. As one progressed further into the passage the recognisable sounds and smells from the feasting would have slowly faded away and replacing it would have been the stale musty smell of decomposing flesh, and

By far the most intact and least disturbed was the western chamber. This chamber was filled with later (ie. Bronze Age) rubble blocking material. This deposit would have assisted in the preservation of the chamber floor. Spread across the chamber floor was found a layer of cremated bone representing two human males, which was intermixed with charcoal and cremated sheep bone. Additionally, the charred remains of an antler pin was also found (without its head and point) (see Lynch 1969b). It is possible that similar bone and charcoal concentrations were present in other chambers and that the cremated bone from each chamber represented different strands of an extended family. The cremation of these individuals would have been probably performed outside the monument, within the façade area. However, the façade area of Barclodiad y Gawres had been heavily by postmedieval stone robbing. As a result of this disturbance, and unlike Bryn Celli Ddu, no pits, fires, charcoal spreads or hearths were found (Powel & Daniel 1956, 24). 102

GEORGE NASH: GESTURE, IMAGE, ARCHITECTURE: HOW FIRE AND ROCK ART MAY HAVE BEHAVED IN THE PASSAGE GRAVES complete darkness. Once inside the chamber (and based on the present height of the upright chamber stones) at Barclodiad y Gawres the participants would have carefully prepared and lit a ritual fire as part of the ritual of interment. Once the fire was alight they may have either consumed or presented the stew to the dead depending how edible this symbolic meal was. At the same time they may have watched the pecked images around the chamber flicker and dance as the fire reached its zenith (Plate 5). Based on the different carving techniques employed at Bryn Celli Ddu and the Calderstones, a different ambience would have existed. Portable illumination and small hearths within the areas where the rock-art was located would have cast deeper and sharper shadows than the pecked designs at Barclodiad y Gawres. The different carving techniques may have acted as unique signatures that would have distinguished one tribal or ancestral group from another.

Acknowledgement I would like to thank Abby George for taking up her valuable time in reading through the finished text. All mistakes are, or course my responsibility.

References Cooney, G. 2000. Landscapes of Neolithic Ireland. London: Routledge. Cowell, R. 1981. The Calderstones: A prehistoric tomb in Liverpool. Merseyside Archaeological Trust. Daniel, G.E. 1950. The Prehistoric Chambered Tombs of England and Wales, Cambridge. Cambridge University Press. Darvill, T. & Wainwright, G. 2003. A Cup-marked Stone from Dan-y-garn, Mynachlog-Ddu, Pembrokeshire, and the Prehistoric Rock-art from Wales, Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society. 69, pp. 253—264. Devereux, P. 2001. Stone Age Soundtracks, The Acoustic Archaeology of Ancient Sites, Vega. Eogan, G. 1986. Knowth and the passage-tombs of Ireland. London: Thames & Hudson. Forde-Johnson, J.L. 1956. The Calderstones, Liverpool, in T.G. Powell, T. & G.E. Daniel, Barclodiad y Gawres: The excavation of a Megalithic Chambered Tomb in Anglesey, Liverpool: Liverpool University Press. Grimes, W.F. 1936. The Megalithic Monuments of Wales, Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society Vol. 2, pp. 106-139. Hemp, W.J. 1931. The Chambered Cairn of Bryn Celli Ddu, Archaeologia Cambrensis, 1xxx (1931) pp. 179—214. Herity, M. 1970. The early prehistoric period around the Irish Sea. In D. Moore (ed.) The Irish Sea Province in Archaeology and History. Cambrian Archaeological Association. pp. 29—37. Joussaume, R. 1985. Dolmens for the dead: Megalith Building throughout the World. London: Batsford. Lynch, F.M. 1967, Barclodiad y Gawres: Comparative Notes on the Decorated Stones, Archaeologia Cambrensis , CXVI, pp. 1—22 Lynch, F.M. 1969a. The Megalithic Tombs of North Wales. In T.G.E. Powell, J.X.W.P. Corcoran, F. Lynch & J.G. Scott (eds.). Megalithic Enquiries in the West of Britain, Liverpool: Liverpool University Press. pp. 107—148. Lynch, F.M. 1969b. The Contents of Excavated Tombs in North Wales. In T.G.E. Powell, J.X.W.P. Corcoran, F. Lynch & J.G. Scott (eds.). Megalithic Enquiries in the West of Britain, Liverpool: Liverpool University Press. pp 149—174. Lynch, F.M., 1970, Prehistoric Anglesey, Anglesey Antiquarian Society, Llangefni.

Within the antechambers at Barclodiad y Gawres there was overwhelming evidence of cremation, indicative of Late Neolithic/Early Bronze Age mortuary practices in Britain and Europe. Charred human remains intermixed with charcoal and sheep bone (as recorded in the western chamber at Barclodiad y Gawres) suggests that the body prior to and during the performance of cremation would have burned along with a ritual sacrifice. In the case of the two male interments at Barclodiad y Gawres, a feast comprising of sheep would have probably accompanied the cremation.4 Directly associated with fire and witnessed at Bryn Celli Ddu was the use of clay. Deliberately laid clay floors or surfaces are present within all the access areas of the monument. Two hearths within the façade area were laid over the clay surface. It is probable that the builders of Bryn Celli Ddu knew the pyrotechnical and malleable qualities of the clay. The construction of the clay floor distinctly rejected any natural floor surfaces, as recorded within the Barclodiad y Gawres monument. Fire and the way it was used within the passage grave tradition further reinforces the notion that complex burial and feasting practices were in operation at these and other passage grave monuments. Based on the Neolithic burial record elsewhere in Wales, similar practices were being repeated, suggesting that fire, too, was an integral component to the ritual and symbolism associated with burial and other activities in and around Neolithic funerary monuments.

4 See Alan Sorrell’s evocative reconstruction drawing of the burial scene within the façade of Tinkinswood, Glamorgan (1946). See also Ellie McQueen’s reconstruction drawing of the burial within the façade of Pentre Ifan, Pembrokeshire; in Nash 2006, 36.

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LANDSCAPE IN MIND Lynch, F.M. 2000. The Later Neolithic and earlier Bronze Age. In F. Lynch, S. Aldhouse-Green and J. Davis (eds.), Prehistoric Wales, Stroud: Sutton, pp. 79—138. Mazel, A., Nash, G. H. & Waddington, C. 2007 (eds.) Art as Metaphor: The Prehistoric Rock-Art of Britain Oxford: BAR Publishing. Nash, G.H. 1998. Fourth interim report on the facade area of La Hougue Bie Passage Grave, Jersey. Société Jersiaise Journal. Vol. 27. pt. 2, pp. Nash, G.H. 2006. The Architecture of Death: The Chambered Monuments of Wales. Logaston Press. Nash, G.H. 2007. Lighting-up the End of the Passage: The way Megalithic Art was viewed and experienced, in D.Gheorghiu & G.H. Nash (eds.) The Archaeology of Fire. Budapest: Archaeologua, pp. 117—152. Nash, G.H., Brook, C., George, A., Hudson, D., McQueen, E., Parker, C., Stanford, A., Smith, A., Swann, J. & Waite, L. 2005. Notes on newly discovered rock-art on and around Neolithic burial chambers in Wales. Archaeology in Wales, Vol. 45, pp.11—16. Nash, G.H. & Stanford, A. (2007). New rock-art discoveries at Barclodiad y Gawres, Anglesey, North Wales. Rock art research. Vol. 24, No. 2, pp. 36-7. Newall, R.S. 1931. The Smaller Cairn at Bryn Celli Ddu. Archaeologia Cambrensis, 1xxx (1930), pp. 259—62. O’Kelly, M.J. 1982. Newgrange: Archaeology, Art and Legend. London: Thames & Hudson. Powell, T.G.E. & Daniel, G.E. 1956. Barclodiad y Gawres: The Excavation of a Megalithic Chambered Tomb in Anglesey, Liverpool: Liverpool University Press. Sharkey, J. 2004. The Meeting of the Tracks: Rock Art in Ancient Wales. Carreg Gwalch. Shee-Twohig, E. 1981. Megalithic Art of Western Europe. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Skinner, J. Reverend. 1802. Ten Days Tour through the Island of Anglesey (reprinted with introduction by T. Williams, 2004). Tilley, C. 1991. Constructing a ritual landscape. In K. Jennbert, L. Larsson, R. Petre & B. WyszomirskaWerbart (eds.) Regions and Reflections (in honour of Marta Stromberg). Acta Archaeologica Lundensia Series 8, No. 20, pp. 67—79.

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Is there a ‘natural’ space? Luiz Oosterbeek We shall not return, in this paper, to the endless debate opposing ‘nature’ to ‘culture’. For the sake of establishing the grounds of the arguments to come, we take for accepted the notion that nature is a cultural perception but that it is subject of rigorous analytical procedures, rendering it both as an object, but also the stage, of archaeological research.

In theory, then, by analysing the spatial distribution of archaeological features, one may approach the mind perceptions of the space of their producers. The material organization of space is crucial in societies, namely in those which are non-literate, because it helps embedding collective memories (as for mnemonics) and promotes their conservation (Halbwachs 1968). Lévi-Strauss (1974) used this aspect to approach the past societies and to build his model of structural binary characterization, even if he focused on social dimension of space (and time), and not in the individuals minds. He stressed that the differentiation of groups was largely dependent on their representations of the space. Already in 1937, Evans-Pritchard (1969) had addressed the attention to the notion of space and distance as cultural constructs, by arguing that although some traits of the space are environmentally conditioned (e.g. two territories separated by a major natural obstacle), the notion of space is often conditioned by the so-called structural distances (e.g. kinship). In this author the relevance of the individual mind is already considered, when he points to the notion of ‘belonging’(cieng).

Archaeology is primarily concerned with cultural change, i.e., with cultural dynamics. Yet, the very nature of archaeological data makes it almost impossible to tackle its favourite subject in a direct way. Very rarely, and only for recent periods, may archaeology unravel information with a chronological detail for the short-time, but, in fact, ‘life’ (i.e., ‘the present’ or ‘when things happen’) is always in the short-time. Even if it is not uncommon to find features that stand for a single moment of use (e.g. a heart, or a discarded blade), it is very difficult, often impossible, to strictly order these into a strict chronological short-time sequence. One may, of course, date such features, but the results offer a statistical value that is not detailed enough. This is why archaeology tended to move to the grounds of Braudel’s ‘long-term History’, or the archaeology of processes and structures.

To stress the greater relevance of space to archaeology, does not mean that archaeology is condemned to avoid what is supposed to be its main interest: culture change. In this respect, the proposal of Henri Lefebvre (1986) to accept a differentiation between the perceived space and the lived space, may be useful. Lefebvre suggested that although space is always a construct, the way individuals act on it is twofold: the space representations (i.e. the structures that are imposed in the territory to meet the needs of the social dynamics – e.g. roads, churches, etc., that support a specific dominant socioeconomic model, and that tend to destroy, via globalization, similar structures emerged from past or dominated models) and the spaces of representation (i.e., the lived and performed spaces, often with logics contracting the former). In this sense, there would be, in the archaeological record, a diversity of features that should account for potential contradictions among different human groups.

One could argue, though, that the archaeological practice unveils, mostly, spatial rather than diachronical data. Even facing difficulties to establish the exact year of a feature, it is often possible to associate it to other features and sites, revealing palaeosurfaces and, ultimately, palaeolandscapes. Landscape archaeology emerged as result, and it is certainly essential to better understand the adaptation mechanisms of past societies (in their contextual interactions), providing one doesn’t mix in the same layer features from different chronologies. Intra-site spatial analysis is, here, better detailed and more rigorous than landscape analysis. People, i.e., the producers of objects and features that will incorporate the archaeological record, are largely conditioned by their perception of the surrounding space. It is acceptable to say that the way people perceive the space around, at various scales, also conditions the ways these people will intervene in it, possibly also trying to render it more ‘human like’. Rock Art or the building of symbolic structures (e.g. erected stones) is a means to take possession of the land but, moreover, to reproduce in it the mind ‘maps’ that put order into the chaos of perceived shapes, colours or sounds. It is known that although all societies develop a certain kind of spatial perceived organization, it is also true that notions of ‘distant’, ‘close’, ‘high’, ‘plain’, etc., will be valued differently in different cultural traditions.

The approach to the Neolithic evidences in the northern Ribatejo in central Portugal may illustrate these considerations. The northern Ribatejo is a ecotonal zone where the three main geomorphological units of Iberia meet: the schist, granite and gneiss of the central plateau (‘Beira’), the limestone of the coastal massif (‘Estremadura’) and the detrictic deposits of the Tagus valley (sands and mainly quartzite and quartz cobbles). For the last 20 years, research 105

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FIG. 1

MATERIAL CULTURE FROM THE CAVES AREA

In fact, the distance separating the caves and the megaliths is less than 20 Km, i.e., within one-days walking; the material culture, though, seems to have been used to segregate the spaces, defining a sort of frontier (even if this frontier was supposed to be crossed for the procurement, or exchange, of raw materials only available, for both sides, beyond it). Only in later moments, by the 4th millennium BC, will the two ‘traditions’ meet, with megaliths being built in the limestone area and incorporating the cardial pottery tradition (Oosterbeek 2001, Figueiredo 2007).

has been carried on to try to understand how the transition to agro-pastoralism occurred in this area. For long, the Neolithic was associated to the cardial coastal spread, based on the findings in the Atlantic shore and a cave, in the western limestone part of the region (Gruta do Caldeirão, in Tomar – Zilhão 1992), in the 6th millennium BC. The observation of the later cave deposits (Oosterbeek 1985, 1997) suggested a continuity in the model of landscape occupation and the associated materials culture (Fig. 1). This lead some authors (Zilhão 1992) to stand for the idea of a sort of colonization model into a ‘no man’s land’ that would be the Estremadura in the middle Holocene. Further surveys, though, indicated that the region was not deprived of human occupation in the early and middle Holocene (Cruz 1997), although identified sites (megaliths and settlements – Drewett 1992) and objects didn’t seem to pay any significant relation to the cardial contexts. The further study of some sites (namely the settlement of Amoreira, in the Tagus valley – Cruz 1997, Cura 2002) suggested a continuity, in the Tagus valley, of lithic assemblages that, at a certain stage, did incorporate ‘Neolithic’ elements (e.g. ceramics and polished stone). The study of the later assemblages in this area does show a continuity and, moreover, a clear divergence with the caves ‘tradition’ (Fig. 2). One could see, in this case, a clear example of Evans-Pritchard’s model of ‘structural distance’.

In the eastern part of the region, the major rock art complex of the Tagus dominates the passage ways, both in the deep valleys and in the hill crests. The study of the rock art in the westernmost portion of this complex, in the Ocreza valley (Mação), suggests the differentiation between deep valley art (pecked carvings, including schematic zoomorphs and antropomorphs) and the top-hills (with schematic paintings in shelters). The topographic contrast between the two settings is reinforced by the differentiation of techniques and the typology of the ideograms (Fig. 3). Carvings and paintings reveal themselves as space representation, i.e., as structures that, although emerging from the topography, condition the human mobility in the territory. The art in the valley is close to the best pathways, and seems to have been conceived as a sort of ‘public art’, i.e., an art to be observed by all and to 106

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FIG. 2

MATERIAL CULTURE FROM THE TAGUS AND ZÊZERE VALLEYS

FIG. 3

VALEY CARVINGS AND ROCK SHELTERS PAINTINGS DIVERSITY

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FIG. 4- ARTISTIC MOTIVES AND NATURAL WATER SPRINGS

FIG. 5 NEOLITHIC LANDSCAPES DYNAMICS 108

LUIZ OOSTERBEEK: IS THERE A ‘NATURAL’ SPACE? openly define the area as the cieng (in Pritchard’s terms) of the group that carved it. The art in the shelters is not visible from the passage ways, either down in the valley or up-hill; it is an art only observable from within the shelter, where no more than 4 or 5 people may stay together. This art, more abstract than the valley one, seems to have been made to observe the valley, and not to be observed; it is, perhaps, an initiation art, or a place for some to contact with the ‘above’. The exact meaning is, of course, lost, but one may perceive the reading of the territory as a space construct, with its paths and prohibited mobilities.

Evans-Pritchard (1969), Les Nuer : description des modes de vie et des institutions politiques d’un peuple nilote, Paris, Gallimard (1st edition : 1937) Figueredo, Alexandra (2007), Complexo megalítico do Rego da Murta: Pré-História recente do Alto Ribatejo (V-IIº milénio a.C.) : problemáticas e interrogações. Porto : [s.n.], 2007. 2 vols.. Halbwachs, Maurice (1968), La mémoire collective, Paris, PUF (1st edition: 1950) Lefebvre, Henri (1986), La production d el’espace, Paris, Anthropos (1st edition: 1974) Levi-Strauss, Claude (1974), Le organisations dualistes existent-elles ?, IN : Anthropologie Structuralle, Paris, Plon, pp. 99-128 (1st edition: 1956) Oosterbeek, Luiz (1985), Elementos para o estudo da estratigrafia da Gruta do Cadaval (Tomar) In: Al-madan. - Almada : Centro de Arqueologia de Almada. - N. 4-5 (Nov. 1984-Nov. 1985), p. 7-12 Oosterbeek, Luiz, (1997), Echoes from the East : Late Prehistory of the North Ribatejo. Tomar : CEIPHAR Centro Europeu de Investigação da Pré-História do Alto Ribatejo, 304 p. Oosterbeek, Luiz (2001), Stones, carvings, foragers and farmers in the Southwest of Europe. A view from the inland In: Praehistoria 2000 – Liège; Union Internationale des Sciences Préhistoriques et Protohistoriques, ABACO, - N. 1 (2001), p. 150-168 Zilhão, J. (1992), Gruta do Caldeirão. O Neolítico Antigo, Lisboa, IPPAR

A third approach to the construction of space in the Neolithic may be the crossing of artistic manifestations with natural water springs. A detailed study of the archaeological context around mineral water springs (Fig.4), demonstrated that these might have been recognised in the Neolithic and that major symbolic features (rock art, megaliths) are always to be found nearby. In this case, though, it is the nature of the territory (the appreciated water with specific qualities) that must have attracted the human groups; yet, once these ‘spaces of representation’ were identified, soon there seem to have been considered the need to ‘domesticate’ them, the art (or other symbolic features) playing this role. These spatial evidences are not static, though, and it is on their base that we may attempt to build explanatory models. In the region we have been considering, there seems to exist an hierarchy of ‘halves’, first separating the western ‘cardial’ tradition from the eastern one (Fig. 5), but also recognising elements of further divisions within each (as in the case of the valley and hill-top art) or at a greater scale (as with the water springs). The picture seems, hence, to be rather complex and dynamic, confirming the value of the spatial approach. This as also the advantage of enabling us to imagine what might have been the ‘map’ in the for ever lost minds of prehistoric people.

Bibliography Cruz, Ana Rosa (1997), Vale do Nabão : do Neolítico à Idade do Bronze. Tomar : CEIPHAR - Centro Europeu de Investigação da Pré-História do Alto Ribatejo, 361, [3] p. Cura, Sara (2002), Indústria lítica da Amoreira : uma gestão diferenciada das matérias primas In: Territórios, mobilidade e povoamento no Alto-Ribatejo. IV: Contextos macrolíticos / coord. Ana Rosa Cruz, Luiz Oosterbeek. Tomar : CEIPHAR - Centro Europeu de Investigação da Pré-História do Alto Ribatejo, p. 207-246 Drewett, Peter, Oosterbeek, Luiz, Cruz, Ana Rosa, Félix, Paulo, (1992) - Anta 1 de Val da Laje 1989/90 : the excavation of a Passage Grave at Tomar, Portugal. [London : Institute of Archaeology, 1992]. [16] p

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To the world I belong: Places and monumental architecture of the Portuguese Alto Douro Gonçalo Leite Velho society that could embrace all the different sites interpreted in the fortified and colonial models (Oliveira Jorge 1994).

Introduction The landscape of the Alto Douro (High Douro) lies at the crossroads of two UNESCO World Heritage Sites – the vineyards that stretch along the river, and the Palaeolithic engravings of the Côa Valley.

Of course, the major problem with such an approach lies in the use of modern concepts of function to explain past dwellings. In prehistory, form and function do not always go together, as we have known for a long time since overturning ‘Functionalism’.

What the majority of tourists do not see however is the richness of the landscape that goes beyond the hills surrounding the rivers Douro and Côa: the land where the large plain of the northern Meseta meets the plateaus of the Portuguese Beiras.

The question facing us is how do we explain these structures? For that we have to explore the concept of architecture itself. Architecture: Building, Dwelling....

The end of the Meseta is marked by the outline of a geological fault that runs from Bragança to Manteigas. The movement along its left flank raised the western region, thus creating a series of plateaus: they maintain the evenness of the Meseta, but are broken into a series of high and low levels. Their character is also reflected by the lithology of this region: the main rocks types, granites and schist, erode in different ways, thus creating different morphologies.

In one of his major works, Tim Ingold differentiated between a ‘building perspective’ and a ‘dwelling perspective’ (Ingold 2000). The former sees architecture as an imposition on the world, mainly man made, creating a set of dichotomies namely between the natural and the man made. The former tends to see architecture as part of life, as the dwellings of human beings, who are part of a bigger network, linked with the phenomenological idea of ‘being in the world’.

The tectonic movements influenced the development of the hills, generally in a north-south direction, which stand out from the lower levels of small river valleys. One of these valleys (Ribeira da Teja) is quite wide, assuming the shape of an open plateau and dominated by the presence of the hill of Castanheiro do Vento.

Ingold’s ideas seem to stress an important thesis of Heidegger: ‘‘We do not dwell because we have built, but we build and have built because we dwell, that is because we are dwellers … To build is in itself already to dwell … Only if we are capable of dwelling, only then can we build’ (Heidegger 2005, 102).

Somewhere between the third and second millennium B.C. a series of monumental structures were constructed in this landscape – built on several hilltops and dominating from the landscape below. The shape and character of these architectural features seem to connect them to other sites across the Peninsula.

In this seminal essay Heidegger reflects on the character of architecture. It was written in a time of house shortage in post-war Germany. Heidegger’s response to the housing situation was an insight into the very idea of what ‘buildings’ mean.

Much has been argued regarding these types of structures. Siret and Blance saw them as the remains of ancient colonies: traces of the arrival of eastern Mediterranean populations (Siret, 1908; Blance, 1961, 1971). Later they were interpreted as fortified settlements, agents of repressive ruling authorities who exploited the emergent peasant communities. The Copper Age agro-pastoral communities developed in size and complexity, benefiting from the technological leap (Gilman and Thornes 1985; Hernando Gonzalo 1988; Chapman, 1990, 2003; Nocete 2001). More recently Susana Oliveira Jorge challenged these views, introducing the concept of monumental hill sites and defying the idea of an overall

We can understand through Heidegger the fundamental problem of a ‘building perspective’. In alienating the nature of building as dwelling, the modern world opens the way for many of the problems present in social housing schemes, or in the suburbs of many cities today. We can talk about an alienation of architecture, which comes about from reducing the involvement of the individuals to that of mere inhabitants. Everyday we continue to reinforce this vision, while promoting an attitude of legitimizing the present by the 111

LANDSCAPE IN MIND past. We say that this is in the nature of architecture. But is it?

specialization’. The term art appears here since skills are also known as arts. In Portuguese we talk about the art of fishing, the art of ploughing, the art of basketry. This has to do with a second Greek term that goes with τεχνή, namely ποιησις (poiesis). ποιησις refers to making, creating, bringing forth. These two terms often appear as synonyms, as they refer to that ‘bringing forth’ that Heidegger calls ‘Hervorbringen’. We therefore arrive at another characteristic of architecture: its bringing forth, which comes from building as τεχνή and ποιησις: the embodiment of know-how into the real world.

To understand architecture we should take a similar path to Heidegger and go to the word in itself. We all know that the word ‘architecture’ comes from the greek αρχη τέκτων (architekton). It would be easy to translate αρχη (arche) as ‘first’ and τέκτων (tekton) as ‘artist’, but we would be high-jacking the word in the wrong direction. The ‘firstness’ of αρχη has as much to do with ‘origin’ as ‘mastery’. It is interesting to see that the same prefix appears in ‘Archaeology’. It is even more interesting to see how architects and archaeologists look at this concept. For the former it represents the primacy of a leader who plans and designs. For the latter it is linked with beginnings.

Now we can link the two concepts to come to an understanding architecture. We can question the idea of the master architect in prehistoric times. Much of the idea of this master architect has to do with the interpretation of the word αρχη in architecture. However in archaeology there is no sense in thinking that the architecture is the product of that technician. At the same time we also may challenge the idea of architecture as an implementation of design. The reality of architecture has to do with the incorporation of τεχνή and ποιησις. A real know-how that is not merely theory or practice. This also challenges the idea of power through architecture. A structure involves an aspect of power (of someone over another/others). In the framework of the architecture of the third/second millennium B.C. we generally see the manifestation of chiefdoms and elites who dominate space. However if we overcome the traditional evolutionist trend of seeing social power as an escalation from bands to tribes to chiefdoms and ending at ‘State’, we can envisage that the reality of power can be much more complex than these forms, transmitted through a sequence of ‘embodiments’. This is the nature of the habitus of Bourdieu, as it deals with the propagation of a doxa. As we examine the stability of the architecture of places like Castanheiro do Vento or Castelo Velho we see an ortodoxa movement which seems to maintain constancy in the way people build.

Through this, perhaps, we can understand how heritage can be differently understood and dealt with by architects and archaeologists. Architects see the continued presence of design over being. Archaeologists should be the first to cope with the design1 of being (or being as Design). In this sense it is strange how archaeologists still do not develop another concept of architecture that could better deal with the archaeological idea of αρχη. What is the origin that we are trying to grasp within this concept? What could be the origin? We could apply a Darwinist approach, but what do we really mean by origin? Why did we start to look for it? We wanted to find the origin of man, or, to put the idea better, we wanted to search for the origin of being. That is the fundamental quest of archaeology and through this we can build a narrative – an αρχη -μυθo- ζητησις (arche-mythozêtêsis). Perhaps because the explanation of the origins has somehow a mythical character. This may well be the problem that distracted us from an αρχη -ζητησις (arche-zêtêsis). While trying to develop the narrative we forgot our goal. What we want to seek is the origin of Being (and in this we already create a tautology, as Being is the origin), and while studying prehistoric architecture this should be what we are concerned with also. Architecture help us to consider Being as origin.

Following Heidegger we may say that this stability is also reflected in the way people dwell, since building is dwelling. This also helps us to understand what happened in such places. Besides their monumental aspect, or function, we can always say that these were dwelling spaces as long as their architecture transmitted an action of care.

Now let us turn to the second part the word. τέκτων poses an interesting challenge to the modern dichotomy between art and technique (or technology), because τέκτων is linked with τεχνή, what we tend to call ‘know-how’ today. The word τεχνή also challenges the split between theory and practice, since this know-how is not merely theoretical or practical. It is theoretical and practical at the same time, since to know how to make involves both.

Of course, when we speak of dwelling we are using the concept in a way that cannot be mistaken with the old image portrayed in the ‘Lição de Salazar’ poster (Plate 1), were the farmer arrives home, carrying his ‘enxada’ (hoe), with the women waiting for him cooking dinner, the son dressed with the uniform of the ‘Mocidade Portuguesa’ and the daughter playing with dolls. The humble house of the rural Portugal of Salazar is the projection of the will of the fascist regime. However many project a very similar fantasy to prehistory, substituting certain symbols, such as the cross, with other ‘religious’ artifacts, while the costume of the ‘Mocidade

This of course has developed confusion in the way we deal with the idea of technician. In the Merriam-Webster dictionary the word ‘technician’ appears as: ‘one who has acquired the technique of an art or other area of 1 The term design here is applied as similar to the design of Humanity or the designs of God.

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PLATE 1 "DEUS, PÁTRIA, FAMILIA: A TRILOGIA DA EDUCAÇÃO NACIONAL", POSTER FROM THE "LIÇÃO DE SALAZAR" SERIES. DRAWINGS BY PEDRO MARTINS BARATA, 1938.

Portuguesa’ is substituted by some animal skin, symbolising the prehistority of the prehistoric.

reserve of modern times. In our point of view the Latin construo is the best example of the gathering element of architecture, which relates to two other Latin terms: cultivare and aedificare. Cultivare ties in with the Heideggerian ‘Sorge’ (care), and also with ‘Besorge’ (concern) and ‘Fursorge’ (solicitude). Architecture is always a manipulation of a place, the development of care, concern, and solicitude. At the same time it is also aedificare, the ‘Er-richten’ that guides (Heidegger 2002, 22).

We also cannot use ‘dwelling’ to attempt to see prehistory in the village of, say, Asterix. It is amusing that archaeologists still appear not to see the profound irony of the Asterix village model. The comics by René Goscinny and Albert Uderzo are full of stereotypes that are related to the 20thcentury way of life. However, many still keep their faith in the absolute truth of such an ‘atemporal’ view. It is permissible to say that many archaeologists keep their eyes tightly shut regarding the fantasies they create for prehistory.

As aedificare the building also becomes the guiding element, an idea which is best illustrated by a phrase that we see many times in Castanheiro do Vento: ‘through building, they built themselves’. In this sense the habitus of building is an ortodox, which reaffirms the embodied doxa. This guidance helps to make sense of the world. The τεχνή of architecture helps to shed light on a world of shadows; it has the clarifying power of making things true. It outlines, through its tikto, the ‘Hervorbringen’, the generation that brings forth the world (Heidegger, 1977, 208). This outlining does not transform things on the outside. Rather it brings them out to be seen. It is this outline who makes possible ‘the work that lets the earth be earth’ (Heidegger, 2002, 24). What shows itself is

The dwelling that we imagine is the dwelling as living, in that architecture becomes a part of the living space. The construction of the place has to be understood through the conception of construction. The etymology of the word construction (the Latin con-struo) relates to a gathering. Of course this may help us understand why Heidegger did not want to explore the word. In one sense he saw the West as a great struggle between the Greek and Roman legacies, in which Germany was regarded as the continuation of the ancient Greek tradition. On the other hand this ‘gathering’ also seems to be linked to a kind of ‘Bestand’, the standing 113

LANDSCAPE IN MIND also what conceals. Architecture is what outlines, but also what allows earth to be still earth. As Holderlin says in his poem ‘The Ister’:

in an area of less than a dozen kilometres. One of the most remote materials found in Castelo Velho is a hard, black, shiny schist, called ‘Santo Xisto’ (Holy schist) that is still quarried some few kilometres from the site, at the quarries of Poio.

‘But the rock needs incisions And the earth needs furrows, Would be desolate else, unbinding.’

At both sites there is a chromatic game going on using the different types of schist available. This tends to mark and outline different structures. Many of these chromatic games, however, were not designed to be seen: they were covered by the main raw material of these sites: clay.

It is the outline of architecture that binds man and earth, which gathers as place. In this sense, if building is dwelling, who can understand better how the dichotomy of natural versus anthropic cannot make sense. The archaeology of natural places is the archaeology of dwelling places, and in this sense it is the archaeology of architectural places. The built environment goes much further than the simple concrete aedificium (edifice). In this sense it involves the place in a much larger scale. Rather than a built environment we may speak of a dwelling environment.

The walls (whose final heights we still cannot quantify) were made of this clay – covering a wooden frame made of branches and sticks. Again we see the presence of ‘local’ materials. The clay is found in many places, deriving from finer schist sediments. The wood could easily be taken from the surroundings. The stone tools were mainly made of quartz, a material easily found in these places. They show an ‘opportunistic’ knapping, in which pieces could be easily discarded if they did not come out as intended.

The dwelling environment When we look at sites like Castelo Velho or Castanheiro do Vento we understand that their architecture does not stop were the walls end. The architecture of Castelo Velho opens itself to the northern Meseta plateau, bringing into play the surrounding hills that close off this amphitheatre. This closing seems to point towards the hill of S. Gabriel, making it the centre of attention and dominating the surroundings. In the same way, the hills west of Castanheiro seem to close off the landscape, forming a kind of backdrop that contrasts with the open space of the Ribeira da Teja plateau.

The artifacts in themselves form part of the architecture, not only in the way they are deposited in the structures, but also in the way they sometimes help outline that same structure. In Castanheiro, for example, we can see that sherds were used as wedges in the walls. All these are elements of a dwelling materiality, which is also a dwelling materiality in the world. All these practises seem to have endured through time. This reinforces the idea of an ortodoxa that copes with what we mentioned before. If it is relatively easy to see a certain continuity in the record, it is however more difficult to understand change. It almost looks as if these sites hide change. This has as much to do with the idea of time, which we generally apply in archaeology and which conditions the perception of certain elements.

In a similar way, seen from different places, the sites seem to differ in shape; their architecture seems to change. In Castelo Velho, from certain points to the south, we can see the long hill that dominates the Vila valley (Plate 2). From the east, seen from the S. Gabriel hill, it seems disconnected from the set of hills rising above the left part of that same valley. This cannot be a mere coincidence. Of course, it is clear that the architecture of these sites includes also their landscapes. Their actuality is not just the hill on which they stand. It is much broader than that. Their reality is the landscape and in this sense they also make the landscape into a ‘place’. They are the lived landscape.

Palimpsests? When we look at the record of Castelo Velho and Castanheiro do Vento the idea of the palimpsest easily comes to mind. This image, which has long been applied to landscape, as well as to the archaeological record, poses some problems however.

There might also be connections between the architecture of such places and the movement of the sun, or even with some other cosmic elements. In this sense they help to enforce that a structure also represents a binding with the world. They are threads in a bigger tapestry.

The palimpsest, of course, has to do with parchments. The concept involves the layering of writing that occurred during the re-use of the parchment (they would be written, and then scraped to be used again).

The dwelling environment is also present, in the same way as these places are at the same time quarries for the sites themselves. The materials of Castanheiro do Vento and Castelo Velho are taken from the rocks that make the hills, or

When we look at record of Castelo Velho and Castanheiro do Vento we see elements of dwellings that seem to relate to different times. The large scale of these monuments leads us 114

GONÇALO LEITE VELHO: TO THE WORLD I BELONG: PLACES AND MONUMENTAL ARCHITECTURE

PLATE 2 CASTELO VELHO DE FREIXO DE NUMÃO SEEN FROM SOUTH. to understand the ‘longue-durée’ of their use. This large scale does not refer to the question of space, but rather to a question of time. The available chronological data points to some 1,500 years of continuous occupation.

understand the relationship between these events. This helps to show us that the temporality of these sites has much to do with minor transformations, that help in the building of the site, but do not afford a view of the fundamental big changes. This would make sense in a view of architecture as an execution of the previous design decided by the master architect.

Due to the limitations of the radiocarbon results, it is hard to grasp an image of how things occurred in the medium-term. It is easy to see the several episodes that occurred on these sites, and it is also relatively easy to have a general idea of the site (we know that the walls created a precinct, and that the majority of the main features tend to be contemporary looked at over the long term). However it is not possible to cope with the specific layout of the sites at a particular time. For example, when in 2002 Susana Oliveira Jorge tried to understand the configuration of the precinct, trying to understand which entrances would be active and which would be closed, she reached the conclusion that it was impossible to make a clear statement. There are only open hypotheses (Oliveira Jorge, 2002).

The dwelling spaces present at Castelo Velho and Castanheiro do Vento show us a different reality, where minor changes are in effect the really meaningful major events. These monumental hills are built as the result of transformations undertaken by people, as they decide, over time. It is, for example, interesting to see how new decorations and forms in pottery are inserted within the development of previous practices. This challenges also our view of the continuity/change dichotomy. Changes are sometimes of a smaller order, and do not always lead to an absolute break from the previous structure. This also challenges the way we understand the scale relationship between cause and effect. As we have learned from chaos theory, the scale of a cause is not always in the same relation to its effect. Change not always happens as a result of major events.

This has also to do with the temporality of architecture in itself. As these sites were dwelling places, they were always places of subtle transformations. However we do not have the sort of ‘image resolution’ needed to work at the scale of the event. We do see some events that happened, e.g. a fireplace, or the transformation of a wall, but it is difficult to 115

LANDSCAPE IN MIND http://traumwerk.stanford.edu/projects/StanfordArchae ologicalTheory/admin/download.html?attachid=18874) . Heidegger, M. (2005) [1951] ‘Building, Dwelling, Thinking’ in Leach, N. Rethinking Architecture: a reader in cultural theory. Oxon: Routledge (versão online: http://pratt.edu/~arch543p/readings/Heidegger.html) Hernando Gonzalo (1988) Evolución Interna y Factores Ambientales en la Interpretaccion del Calcolítico del Sureste de la Peninsula Ibérica: Una Revision Crítica. Madrid: Universidad Complutense, 2 vols (tese de dout. policopiada). Ingold, T. (2000) The Perception of the Environment: Essays in Livelihood, Dwelling and Skill. London: Routledge. Mcfadyen. L. 2006. Material culture as architecture, Journal of Iberian Archaeology. 8: 91-102. Mcluhan, M. (1962) The Gutenberg Galaxy: The Making of Typographic Man. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Nocete, F. (2001) Tercer Milenio Antes de Nuestra Era. Relaciones y contradicciones Centro/Periferia en el Valle del Guadalquivir. Barcelona: Bellaterra Arqueologia. Oliveira Jorge, S.(1994) ‘Colónias, fortificações, lugares monumentalizados. Trajectória das concepções sobre um tema do calcolítico peninsular’, Revista da Faculdade de Letras do Porto. II série. 11. Porto: Sociedade Portuguesa de Antropologia e Etnologia - p.447-546 Oliveira Jorge, S. (2002). Castelo Velho de Freixo de Numão: um Recinto Monumental Pré-histórico do Norte de Portugal. Património/Estudos, 3, 145-164. Siret, L. (1908) ‘Religion néolithiques de l’Ibérie’, Revue Préhistorique, nº7-8 - p.7-13

Conclusion Through this work we have tried to show how the monumental sites of Castanheiro do Vento and Castelo Velho relate to a certain world where people dwell. A further goal was to inquire into certain concepts generally used. Perhaps only through such inquiry is it possible to understand these monumental sites of the third/second millennium B.C. If the language that we use conditions the way we think, then we should challenge language itself, in the ‘archaeology’ of words. In the case of prehistoric architectures we believe that it is necessary to challenge the view of concepts such as architecture, dwelling and certain notions of time. Only then can we better understand the nature of certain matters. We have no doubt that these places are part of the world, and they show us how we belong to such a world. This also brings new challenges since they are not part of something gone. They still are, and our acts make part of this ongoing changing reality, which goes beyond a division of past, present and future. This however is a chapter still be written.

References Blance, B. (1961) ‘Bronze Age colonists in Iberia,. Antiquity 35. p.192–202 Blance, B. (1971) ‘Die Anfaenge der Metallurgie auf der Iberischen Halbinsel’, Studien zu den Anfaengen der Metallurgie, Bd.4, Berlin: Gebr. Mann. Chapman, R.W. (1990) Emerging complexity. The Later Prehistory of Southeast Spain, Iberia and the West Mediterranean. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Chapman, R.W. (2003) Archaeologies of Complexity. New York:R outledge Gilman, A. and Thornes, J.B. (1985) Land Use and Prehistory in South-East Spain. London: George Allen & Unwin. Heidegger, M. 1962, Being and Time, Harper & Row, New York. Heidegger, M. (1977) [1954] ‘The Question Concerning Technology’ (translation by William Lovitt), in The Question Concerning Technology and Other Essays. New York: Harper Torchbooks, 3-35 (versão online: http://www.culturaleconomics.atfreeweb.com/Anno/He idegger%20The%20Question%201954.htm). Heidegger, M. (2002) [1960] ‘The origin of the work of art’ in Off the beaten track edited and translated by Julian Young and Kenneth Haynes, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. p.1-56 (version online:

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Val Bormida (Ligurie, Italie): espace antropologique dans la Prehistoire entre exploitation des ressources locals et domain de montagne Davide Delfino Schematiquement les evidences sur le territoir qui ont permis de developper la teorie du peuplement definitif de la montagne au Bronzo Final pour exploiter le cuivre locals sont:

Introdution Dans les recherches conduits pendant ces dernièrs annès, la part occidental de l’Appennine Ligurien a donnè des temoignages très importants pour ce qui concerne l’espace antropologique en montagne et ses finalitès economique. Les deux areelles qui nous prennons en examen sont placèes chez la parte de l’Appennine qui separe la cote ligurienne de l’ouest du Piedmont. Soit la Val Bormida que la couche de Sassello sont des territoir de passage entre ces deux lieux de l’Italie du Nord: avec chemins de ligne en montagne ils ont permis dans les siècles, et sourtout pendant la prehistoire, de mettre en comunication la Ligurie et la Plaine du Po’: lieu de passage et lieu de stationnemment semblent etre les deux caracteristiques des ces zone que nous allons à examer maintenant.

VALBORMIDA • Site d’ habitat de l’age du bronze moyen: le Bric Tana, unique foulliè aujourd’ui • Présence de deux depots: le premièr c’est un vielle retrouvement du XIX siecle, peut etre un charge des merchands en objects metalliques; le seconde, un très recente retrouvement, c’est un depot de fondeur du milieu du Bronze Final avec touts objects debrisès et des lingots de cuivre • Zones avec beaucoup de concentration d’objects metalliques préhistoriques: il y a plusieurs site de montagne avec retrouvement de metals du Bronze Moyen et Final eparpillès; • Au moin un potentiel site d’ habitat de plein aire roquè, qui a etè sondè mais pas foulliè • Présence du minéral metallique en petits mais nombreuses concentrations

1.1 Encadrement des recherches et du espace antropique dans la prehistoire A l’après des fouilles conduits dans les annès ‘ 80 dans le site d’ habitation du Bric Tana qui à donnè nouvelles informations pour le Bronze Moyen en arrier terre de Savona, de quelques annes jusqu’ au jourd’ui nous avons multipliè les donneès archeologiques sur ce territoir de montaigne, qui comprende la Val Bormida et la couche de Sassello. Il s’agit de retrouvements qui temoignent, sourtout au Bronze Final, l’extration du cuivre du mineral, la lavoration des objects en bronze et, confortè par des evidences mineraligiques, l’exploitation des minerals locals. Maintenant les dernieres recherches sur le territoir, plus progredies en Val Bormida, font penser a une territoir occupè par des communautes de montagnards metallurgistes après l’Age du Bronze Moyen et installès aussi stablement à l’Age du Bronze Final en quelques site d’habitat dans la moyen vallè du torrent Bormida, sites etudieè preliminairement mais encore à fouiller.

SASSELLESE • Présence d’ un depot de fondeur attribuable au debut du Bronze Final. • Objects de metal prèhistoriques: trois aches, deux du Bronze Ancien et une du Bronze Recente, fruits des retrouvement sporadiques • Présence du minéral metallique, en mines de solphures de cuivre exlpoitèes jusq’au XX siecle 1.2 Espace antropique en Val Bormida: entre prodution du cuivre et garde des routes montagnards

Aussi a quelques dizaine de kilometres de la Valbormida, dans la couvette de Sassello, il y a egualment des temoignages similaires (objects metalliques et minières), mais on y pas d’ habitat conservès foulieès ou potentielment tal, sourtout pour la pedologie du lieu subject à fort dilavation. On peut voir maintenant dans l’age du Bronze Moyen et Final un enteret, de la part des metallurgistes, pour la montagne et ses ressources minerals en tel façon pour pas seulement la frequenter saisonnielment, mais vraiment à s’installer stablement chez les ressources à exploiter.

En ce territoir la recherche est la plus evoluè: reconnaissances sur le terrain, examen de la toponomastique prix è indiquer ancienne usage antropiques, ètudie des donnè archeologiques, on fait mieu encarrer cet espace anthropique dans la prehistoire. Entre les donnès archeologiques, il y a la plus solide, au jour d’hui, source d’infrmation: le site d’habitat du Bric Tana. Foulliè par Angiolo Del Lucchese du 1986 au 1992, a donnè plusières et variès donnès. S’agit d’un habitat developpè du Bronze Moyen I (en cronologie du bronze de l’Italie du Nord), c’est à dir du XVI siecle avant J.C. et habitè jusqu’au 117

LANDSCAPE IN MIND debut du Bronze Recente (debut du XIV siecle avant J.C.); l’examen typologique de la ceramique, qui presente les caracteristiques de la phase des anse à ache et c’est encadreable entre la facies de Viverone, manifestation du Bronze Moyen du Piedmont.

Aussi la position du site c’est très significatif: l’hauteur c’est accessible seulement en un versant sur quattre et sa conformation a tous les eements voisible dans les habitat de plein aire roquès de l’age du Bronze de la Ligurie; encore c’est à l’embochoure de la vallè de Murialdo, où se trouve la mine de Località Pastori à peux des kilometres du Bric S. Bernardo et dans la meme ligne de montagne.

C’est un habitat installè dans une doline carsique, manifestation lytographique très commune dans la zone, peut etre pour profiter de l’eau ici à disposition en abbondance. Aussi en temps modernes la popolation a utilisè des particulierès cavitès carsiques pour y installer des depots, des caves, des petits habitations. Entre le materiels fouillès il y a deux gouttes en metal, une en cuivre et l’autre en bronze, un object en etain et plusieres fragments d’epingles: ce sont des temoignage direct d’un atelier de bronziste ici. En autre les analyses polliniques et anthracologiques on montrè un milieu naturel au Bronze Moyen composè de la chene rouvre en dominance, arbre qui donne un bon bois pour la fabbrication du charbon utilisable dans l’alimentation des fours des metallurgistes. Le Bric Tana a donnè enfin tous les informations qui ont portè a penser pour la Valbormida un role de premiere importance pour la metallurgie en Ligurie de montagne. Mais les donnè qui sont venues à nos yeux aujourd’oui ont renforcès cettes suppositions

Les donnèes mobiles archeoligiques de la Valbormida aujourd’hui a notre connaissance, disent qu’ici on a des objects de l’Age du Bronze Final, en quelque lieu faisant part de depots de stokage à refondre. En autre dans le depot du Bric de la Sorte la composition mixte d’objects debrisès et de morceaux de lingots en cuivre local parle clairement: la region c’est inserèe dans un ample cercle d’exchange d’objects en bronze de provenance alpin et Piedmontaise et le ressources de cuivre locals on servè puor integèr dans nouvelles produtions les metaux qui sont parvenu ici de loin. Les donnèes immobiles archeoligique de la zone disent que la Valbormida a vu une installation permanent dans ses zones plus voisin a la plain padane au Bronze Moyen, peut etre par des groups humains lièes à la facies de Viverone et venues ici pour exploiter le mineral local de cuivre. Dans ces installation de basse vallè on etès developpès des ateliers de metallurgistes qui ont employè le cuivre local ensemble à l’etain achetè des autres regions pour fabbriquer le bronze. Au Bronze Final peut etre que nouvelles gisements de cuivre ont pu etre exploitès et les installations permanents sont etè edifiè plus à l’interieur des deux vallèes de la Bormida

Les nouvelle decouverts, commencèes en 2002 grace a des reconnaissances sur le terrain, on portè nouvelle evidences; au Bric de la Sorte, qui est à un dizaine de kilomètres du Bric Tana et a un quenzaine du depots de Cairo Montenotte, on a decouvert un depot d’objects metalliques. Il y a 71 pièces, 30 objetcs en bronze debrisès, 41 morceaux de lingots de première fusion du cuivre. C’ est une deposition recupereable dans un pertus de la roche de 20 centimetres. de profondeur, attribueable à la reserve de metal à refondre d’ un fondeur du milieu Bronze Final, a juger de la typologie des objects presents: il y a pour exemple le fragment d’une armille avec decoration type La Poype, mais sur une forme plus tardive. S’ agit de toute façon d’objects en circulation dans l’areelle alpin et de la Plain du Po’ de l’ouest de la fin de l’Age du Bronze. Dans le meme site on y a retrouvè plusieres objects en cuivre eparpillèes pour l’hauteur, comme des morceaux de lingots: un des ces ci c’est du type plane-convex et a etè analysèe chimiquement. On a vu que s’agit d’ un cuivre peu depurè et obtenu d’ un sulphide de cuivre et fer comme la Bornite. Ce type de mineral de cuivre est exploitè dans mine de Località Pastori qui est dans la vallè a cote. On a pu reconstruiser la forme originaire complet et le poid, qu’il s’agit de 8 Kg.

Quant à les evidences geologiques, pour le moment on y a seulement une mine connue, mais pour le domain il y a des chances pour en determiner des autres. Laquelle connue, chez la Localitè Pastori, est placèe à deux-trois chilometres de le pays de Murialdo, dans la meme vallè des sites du Bric S. Bernardo et de Bric Tana, qui se trouve, ce dernièr, à l’embouchure de la vallèe. Le gisement est constituè par minerals primaires de cuivre à Bornite, Calcopirite et Tetraedrite, et ses minerals en surface sont des carbonates comme la Cuprite, Malaquite et Azurrite: nous sommes devant a des minerals, sourtout ces dernieres, très exploitable dans la prehistoire et biensur la Bornite à etè individuèe comme mineral original des cuivres metalliques trouvèes au Bric della Sorte et au Bric S. Bernardo. Maleuresement sont peux les evidences d’exploitage visible aujourd’hui, mais un usage prehistorique du cuivre de Località Pastori, peut etre vu par les donnès de plusieurs pieces de lingots de cuivre planoconvex et "à fougasse" trouvèes au tour la mine: ces pieces ont etèes analysèes et on a confirmè la prodution prehistorique de ces ci, aussi leur composition indique une non compatibilitè avec la mine de Pastori, meme si c’est toujour la Bornite des mineralisations de la Valbormida à ses origines, et sourtout aucunes entre eux sont le resultat d’un action de mixage de cuivre avec bronze, entre un travail de recyclage des metaux.

Un autre resultat des recentes recherches, c’est l’individuation dans le mont que s’appelle Bric S. Bernardo de beaucoup de ceramique protohistorique et d’ objects metalliques datables de l’Age du Bronze Final à l’Age du Fer. Ensemble il y a plusieurs fragments des autres lingots en cuivre, des quels un a etè analysè chimiquement. Les analys on montrè que le cuivre du Bric S. Bernardo, surement de prodution protohistoriuqe, est compatible avec le mineral de la mine de Localitè Pastori. 118

DAVIDE DELFINO: VAL BORMIDA (LIGURIE, ITALIE): ESPACE ANTROPOLOGIQUE DANS LA PREHISTOIRE 1.3 Espace antropique en Sassello: exploitations du cuivre et passage des marchands des bronzes

ricerche, Bullettino di Paletnologia Italiana, 89, Roma 1998, pp. 233-289. Del Lucchese, A., D. Delfino in c.d.s. Metallurgia preistorica in Val Bormida, Bollettino della Soprintendenza Archeologica della Liguria (a cura di) R.C. DE Marinis, G. Spadea 2004 I Liguri. Un antico popolo europeo tra Alpi e Mediterraneo, catalogo della mostra di Genova 23 ottobre 2004-23 gennaio 2005, Ginevra-Milano 2004. Franceschi, E., G. Luciano, D. Delfino, A. Del Lucchese, 2004. Studio multidisciplinare di una panella a sezione piano-convessa ritrovata in Val Bormida. Ligures 2, Bordighera 2004, pp.298-304. Pipino, G. Possibile sfruttamento antico del giacimento cuproargentifero di Murialdo-Pastori, Liguria mineraria, Ovada 2005, pp.11-18

Dans la couvette de Sassello il y a presque les memes evidences qu’ en Valbormida: indicateurs arquelogiques: le depot de Bric del Ciaz (de fondeur, de Bronze Final et avec affinitè typologique du monde padain-alpin), trois retrouvement d’aches, une de Bronze Recente et deux de Bronze Ancien: ces dernieres indiquent une circulation d’objects sur large echelle, du moment que une c’est d’un type alpin (Type Neyruz) et l’autre d’ typologie du centre de l’Italie (Type Paestum). La quelle du Bronze Recent est du type Allevard, toujuor lièe à la region des Alpes de l’ouest. Les evidences geoligiques sont visibles dans la mine de La Deiva, avec les galeries creusèes et le mineral de cuivre exploitè c’est la Calcopirite ensemble è ses carbonate lesquells la Malaquite et la Cuprite. Le lieu est très proxime à les fouilles d’axes prehistoriques. 1.4 Conclusions En conclurant, il y a tous les elements pour hypotiser rayonnablement un peuplement de cettes montagnes à l’age du Bronze dans ses periodes moyen et final, par des metallurgistes attirèes des ressources cupriphères des lieux et provennant de la Plain Padaine et en relation culturelle et commercial avec les Alpes. L’espace antropoligique de la prehistoire des lieux offre ensuite: disponibilité des minerals du cuivre in loco, presence de bois apte à l’alimentation des fours, sites de travail et d’occultation des produit en proximité des routes de ligne et de fleuve, accessibilité des deux zone peux facile, adaptè à l’activitè des gildes d’artisans du metal, mais en meme moment en position de surveillance des routes entre la Plaine Padaine et la Ligurie: ces lieux on connu dans la fin de l’age du bronze une vive activitè de commerce en metals et, avec eux, nombreux exanges culturels des quels les acteurs principals sont etès les marchands. References Boquet, A., M. C. Lebascle 1983, Metallurgia e relazioni culturali nell’Età del Bronzo finale delle Alpi Nord Francesi, Antropologia Alpina, La memoria della terra 1, Torino 1983. Delfino, D. 2005, Progetto Hierà: attività metallurgiche nell’Età del Bronzo in Val Bormida, Ligures 3, Bordighera 2005, pp. 191-193 Del Lucchese, A. 2002, Dati e ipotesi sulla prima metallurgia nella Liguria Occidentale, Actes du IX Colloque sur les Alpes dans l’Antiquitè, Tende 15-17 septembre 2000, Bullettin d’ etudes prehistoriques et archeologiques alpines XIII, Aosta 2002, pp. 217-220 Del Lucchese, A., R. Nisbet, C. Ottomano, R. Scaife, C. Sorrentino, E. Starnini 1998, L’insediamento dell’età del bronzo di Bric Tana ( Millesimo, SV). Primi risultati delle 119

Des espaces bons pour l'exclusion Philippe Hameau

singuliers. Les hommes circulent loin de l'espace domestique. Ils s'en absentent régulièrement et de façon plus ou moins prolongée : rites de puberté, colportage, artisanats forestiers, pastoralisme, service militaire, etc. Ils se retrouvent donc, fréquemment, en situation d'isolement par rapport à leurs proches et au groupe social auquel ils appartiennent. C'est donc dans cet espace lointain qu'ils expriment et compensent par le graphisme leur ségrégation forcée. Les zones investies par la gravure, par la peinture ou par le tracé au crayon sont éloignées des espaces habités : montagne, zone frontalière, hameau déserté, etc. L'acte graphique connote la singularité de la situation de son auteur, affirme son passage et fait date dans un effort de communication avec l'individu qui connaîtra les mêmes conditions d'isolement.

1. La ségrégation s'accompagne de l'acte graphique L'acte graphique est souvent dépendant de l'exclusion temporaire ou prolongée d'un individu. Les modalités de cette exclusion ou ségrégation peuvent être très diversifiées, depuis la mise à l'écart très momentanée jusqu'à l'enfermement ou le bannissement à vie en passant par une multitude de situations plus ou moins prolongées, sévères et arbitraires, ou appréciées comme telles. L'exclusion peut même être volontaire et répondre à un besoin personnel de s'abstraire de ses amis, de ses proches et plus généralement du social. L'exclusion peut donc être culturelle : il importe qu'elle soit ressentie comme telle. Cette ségrégation entraîne souvent un besoin de s'exprimer, de signaler l'anormalité de cette situation. Cependant, l'expression graphique subséquente de cet isolement est polymorphe. Il peut s'agir de graffiti rapidement exécutés sur une partie de mur, d'un ensemble de symboles savamment agencés sur une paroi rocheuse, de la tenue d'un carnet personnel ou de l'entretien d'une correspondance assidue avec diverses personnes, etc. Ce n'est pas nécessairement une écriture. Qu'elles que soient les formes adoptées, toutes représentent une même volonté de laisser une trace personnelle et de communiquer. Il y a souvent une nécessité compulsive à exprimer sa ségrégation par l'écriture ou le dessin.

Traditionnellement, la femme circule peu et l'on conçoit que, dans des conditions extrêmes, son besoin d'écrire puisse conserver un caractère intimiste et qu'il soit dirigé vers quelques tierces personnes connues et choisies. La correspondance est longue, répétitive, et s'adresse à des interlocuteurs précis alors que le graffiti sur la roche est spontané, rapide, et s'offre au passant dont on ignore l'identité. La première communique au présent, le second est futur. Hommes et femmes partagent donc la même compulsion pour les "écritures ordinaires" bien que l'on constate une distinction sexuelle des tâches scripturaires (Albert 1993).

Les expressions graphiques choisies dans ces espaces de ségrégation sont très liées au sexe de leurs auteurs. Les figurations et les textes relevés sur les murs et les rochers sont essentiellement masculins. Les signatures, les figures humaines, les allusions à une appartenance sociale ou professionnelle se rapportent surtout à des hommes. La femme est représentée par l'homme en tant qu'idéal amoureux ou désir érotique. Elle est rarement l'auteur de telles inscriptions offertes à la vue de tous.

L'écriture soulage les transitions difficiles (Centlivres (dir.) 2000, Léonard (dir.), 2004). Elle a sans doute une fonction cathartique. L'acte graphique est conçu comme un exutoire, voire comme un élément de résilience face à un événement traumatique. Une simple mise à l'écart liée à des obligations professionnelles peut être péniblement ressentie comme l'exprime ce berger sur un rocher de la vallée des Merveilles dans les Alpes-Maritimes : Oh, comme c'est douloureux, Je dois rester au milieu de ces rochers, Isolé comme les chamois…" (relevé Guisto-Magnardi 1991). Que dire alors du détenu dans une Maison d'arrêt, pris entre deux mondes : la société qu'il a quittée et qu'il ne peut réintégrer, et les acteurs du milieu carcéral qui lui sont totalement étrangers. Le voilà en situation de liminalité, de "disjonction identitaire" (Le Caisne 2000) et le graffiti peut représenter un moyen de s'extraire de cette condition par l'affirmation de son identité et de sa présence dans ces lieux. On suppose même que d'autres facteurs peuvent s'ajouter à ce sentiment de transition comme l'étroitesse de l'espace, le confinement, l'attente, etc.

L'isolement induit souvent une abondante correspondance féminine. En prison, les femmes sont plus assidues aux ateliers d'écriture que les hommes et beaucoup moins enclines à s'exprimer sur les murs de leur cellule. Seuls les locaux du quartier disciplinaire, espace de réclusion extrême, sont couverts de graffiti sans distinction du sexe de leurs auteurs. Opposer les graffiti des hommes et les lettres des femmes, c'est peut-être, tout simplement, distinguer les sphères d'activités des uns et des autres jusque dans leurs aspects les plus

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LES GORGES DU CARAMI

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PHILIPPE HAMEAU: DES ESPACES BONS POUR L'EXCLUSION gorges a donc gardé toute son ambivalence, investi par les esprits maléfiques dont triomphe une autre force surnaturelle et refuge de ceux que la communauté a exclus pour éviter toute contamination.

2. Les nuances de la ségrégation dans la diachronie Les mêmes lieux sont souvent l'objet de reprises graphiques. Peintures et gravures, dessins et écritures s'accumulent sur les mêmes rochers ou sur les mêmes murs. Quelle raison faut-il invoquer pour expliquer cette pérennité du graphisme dans de tels espaces ? Faut-il invoquer un principe d'imitation et penser que le graphisme appelle le graphisme ? Faut-il supposer que les graffiti ajoutés constituent une réponse aux précédents ? Faut-il croire que ces lieux sont systématiquement considérés comme des lieux de réclusion ? Pour répondre à cette question, nous prendrons pour exemple les gorges du Carami, entre Mazaugues et Tourves, dans le centre du département du Var (Hameau 2000). Ces gorges ont été régulièrement fréquentées depuis le Néolithique jusqu'à nos jours. Il s'agit d'un espace étroit et bien délimité. En amont, la vallée se rétrécit et se creuse au niveau des "Sauts du Cabri", par une série de cascades. Là, la vallée est traversée par une strate rouge de bauxite en pleinair. En aval, le Carami est resserrée par la barre calcaire dite de Saint-Probace puis la vallée s'élargit. La zone est donc pratiquement close.

Entre ces deux resserrements, quelques abris ont été discrètement investis par l'expression graphique, soit de fines gravures appartenant au corpus schématique linéaire, soit des figures réalisées au bâton de colorant. Il s'agit de figures attribuables à l'époque médiévale au sens large. Sans que nous puissions vraiment interpréter ces signes, il apparaît qu'une grande partie d'entre eux appartiennent à des pratiques "en marge de l'orthodoxie officielle" pour reprendre l'expression d'H.Breuil (1933/35). Cette inversion de l'ordre social s'est perpétuée jusqu'à la fin du XIXe siècle lorsqu'un petit abri à deux entrées, en rive droite du Carami, a été occupé par un individu pratiquant semble-t-il la contrebande d'allumettes soufrées (AcovitsiotiHameau 1989). La date probable de son séjour nous est fournie par une boîte d'allumettes fabriquées à Marseille après la promulgation de la loi de 1872 concernant le monopole de la vente de ce produit. Cette loi rattachait l'impôt sur les allumettes aux Contributions Indirectes et fut modifiée dans les années 1890. La durée du séjour est donnée par un calendrier : l'extrémité d'une branche de chêne, non écorcée, portant des entailles faites au couteau : 123 entailles en un rythme hebdomadaire de six entailles horizontales et d'une oblique qui se maintient pour 93 d'entre elles. Les 30 dernières entailles sont plus anarchiques. Le reste du mobilier consiste en poêlons en céramique réfractaire, quelques cerclages de bois servant au braconnage du petit gibier, du papier d'emballage et de la ficelle. Cet abri a donc servi de cachette et son hôte temporaire a ressenti le besoin de calculer le temps de sa ségrégation volontaire.

Entre les IVe et IIIe millénaires av.J.C., une douzaine de cavités ont été ornées de figures peintes appartenant au corpus schématique. L'organisation spatiale des différentes figures et la qualité du matériel archéologique recueilli au pied de certaines parois peintes nous ont amené à concevoir ces abris, et plus généralement la zone des gorges, comme le lieu de rites de passage. Ces rites seraient connexes de l'apprentissage de la taille des matières siliceuses. Les gorges du Carami auraient fonctionné comme un sanctuaire, éloigné de l'espace quotidien habité et cultivé, c'est-à-dire la plaine en aval. Les gorges auraient servi en quelque sorte de lieu de ségrégation ponctuelle pour de jeunes postulants en attente d'un nouveau statut social. Les peintures schématiques auraient été réalisées au moment de ces rites de passage par des jeunes gens devenant socialement adultes.

3. Une tradition de ségrégation Le caractère de réclusion et de ségrégation des gorges du Carami revient donc à plusieurs reprises. Chaque fois, sauf pour le Lazaret, cette réclusion s'accompagne d'actes graphiques : peintures schématiques, fresque représentant Saint Michel, gravures linéaires, figures au bâton de colorant, calendrier sur une branche.

Ce sentiment d'éloignement, d'une distance entre les gorges et l'espace habité s'est maintenu jusqu'à la période historique. Un ermitage dédié à Saint-Michel, le triomphateur du démon, y a occupé une grotte près de l'étranglement amont, c'est-à-dire près des Sauts du Cabri. Cette christianisation des gorges est difficilement datable mais la Baume Saint-Michel a livré un abondant mobilier apparenté à des pratiques cultuelles et attribuable aux XIIIe et XIVe siècles. Dans le fond de la grotte, un ermite a peint une fresque polychrome représentant Saint Michel terrassant le dragon. On a la preuve qu'il a préalablement effacé les peintures préhistoriques encore visibles sur les parois.

L'imitation consistant à reproduire les figures anciennes pourrait expliquer la tradition graphique dans ces gorges. A cette hypothèse, on peut opposer plusieurs observations. Ce ne sont pas nécessairement les mêmes abris qui ont été réinvestis par le graphisme. A chaque période correspond un corpus iconographique qui lui est propre, ce qui signifie qu'il n'y a donc pas reproduction des mêmes thèmes. Enfin, les épisodes graphiques sont éloignés dans le temps les uns des autres. Ceux-ci n'entretiennent donc entre eux aucune connexion qui soit d'ordre spatial, iconographique ou temporel.

Un lazaret a été implanté sur l'étranglement aval, c'est-à-dire au pied de la barre de Saint-Probace. Une construction est encore visible. Aucun graffiti n'y est observable. L'espace des 123

LANDSCAPE IN MIND On suppose alors que les gorges du Carami ont été le lieu d'une tradition de réclusion plutôt que celui d'une tradition graphique. On assiste à une structuration de l'espace : une zone habitée et cultivée fonctionnant comme un espace quotidien (la plaine) et une zone périodiquement affectée à la ségrégation de certains individus (les gorges). Cette espace de réclusion a fonctionné depuis le Néolithique. La ségrégation des individus a été motivée par diverses raisons : rites de passage, ermitage, rites officieux, maladie contagieuse, contrebande. Chaque fois mais pas toujours, cette ségrégation s'est accompagnée d'actes graphiques. Le graphisme considéré dans la diachronie représente donc la manifestation concrète d'un caractère latent d'une partie du territoire : les gorges du Carami conçues comme un espace de ségrégation. Bibliographie Acovitsioti-Hameau, A, 1989, La grotte de la poudrière (Le Val) et l'artisanat clandestin de poudre de chasse et d'allumettes, Cahier de l'ASER n°6, pp.45-57 Centlivres, P, 2000, Rites, seuils, passages, in Communications n°70,pp.33-44 Léonard, M., (dir.), 2000, Mémoire et écriture, Actes du colloque du Centre Babel (Université de Toulon et du Var) 12-13 mai 2000, Honoré Champion Ed. Paris, 502p., pp.23-42 Fabre, D, 1993 (dir.) Ecritures ordinaires Ed. P.O.L. Centre Georges Pompidou 375p. Hameau, Ph, (dir.), Implantation, organisation et évolution d'un sanctuaire préhistorique, la haute vallée du Carami (Mazaugues et Tourves, Var), Supplément n°7 au Cahier de l'ASER, Méounes (Var), 227p. Lecaisne, L, 2000, Prison. Une ethnologue en centrale, Odile Jacob, Paris, 394p.

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Room for rivalry and religion – ritualized rock art reflections of the Bronze Age landscape of Tanum in Bohuslän Ulf Bertilsson In Tanum, Sweden is one of the most massive aggregations of Bronze Age rock art in Europe. Rock art panels can be counted in hundreds and the images that have been engraved on them in tens of thousands. The panels are closely connected to today’s open clayey farm land that in the Bronze Age was more of shallow bays, wetlands and humid pastures. This change of landscape character is the result of the heavy land lift of appreciatively 15 m in 3000 years. Such a fundamental alteration of the landscape must also have affected the human perception and conception of the environment. Rock art panels seems from their location on the lower edge of the rocky ridges just above the low laying land and water to have been functioning as a constant spatial element with engraved images successively added for more then one millennium. Another such element was the burial

cairns situated on rocky hilltops, ridges and plateaus that served as monumental landmarks that in many cases also were used for repeated burials during centuries. Situated in between these stable elements on the moraine plateaus and slopes were the rooms for daily life – the settlements. And surrounding it all was the water and the sea. What complicated the matter was that it was gradually transformed into land. Good pasture lands that belonged to nobody and to which access had not been regulated. This could have been a triggering factor and the main cause for the constant rivalry that is reflected in the numerous depictions of duelling warriors and battle scenes on the rock art panels. In that way it is possible to assume a tight connection between the change of the landscape and the environment and the human perception of it as reflected in the ritualized rock art rivalry.

The cultural nature of natural places in the Alps Franco Nicolis The paper is based on the concept of “iconema”, developed in his papers by the Italian geographer Eugenio Turri. The iconema is the elementary unit on which we build our overall picture of a territory or landscape. The perception of the iconemas is subjective. The perception of the people living in a territory is filled with peculiar meanings, and in this way a simple natural place could begin the place of the memory or of the identity, and a natural landscape could begin a cultural

landscape. The paper will focus on the recognition of iconemas in the perception of the people living in the alpine territories in some periods of prehistory. The choice of natural places for everyday or special activities probably did not follow only utilitarian purposes, but could be the symptom of the symbolic relation between man and landscape. Some case studies will be presented from the Central alpine region.

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Some Concluding Observations on Emergent Novelty and Promising New Relations between Archaeology, Anthropology nd Philosophy Stephanie Koerner Writing on ‘ways ahead’ against the grain of some of the most contradictory dimensions of the ‘modern cosmopolis’ (cosmos + polis), Stephen Toulmin (1990) notes that throughout its highly discontinuous history, ‘western culture’ has given rise to remarkable ‘pendulum swings’ between two very different conceptions of the tasks of philosophy (or theory). In one view, philosophy’s task is to ‘analyse all subjects in wholly general terms,’ that is to establish a supposedly context independent stance above and beyond the contingencies of everyday human experience for distinguishing the true from the false, fact from fiction, the authentic from the in-authentic, the one from the many, friend from foe, and so on, in relation (paradoxically) to ever new versions of the remarkable equation of the real and the intelligible.

achieving the above noted tasks in terms of a question about what sorts of things satisfy the requirements of a science (episteme) in terms of the question: If something can be said to be subject to change, what is the essence of that something? (1) the unchanging aspect, (2) the changing aspect, and (3) both, that is, the interaction of changing and unchanging aspects? For foundationalists (like Socrates and Plato), the answer must be (1), and the others have to be reducible to it. Scientific objects must exhibit regularities that are universal and demonstrable by chain of necessary causes, specifying not only what is the case (by sufficient conditions) but is by necessity. For probabalists (like Aristotle), things that are ‘always or for the most part’ can satisfy requirements of science if they can be described as examples of essential states or substances (Aristotle, Metaphysics 1994, 1027a20-27; cf. Daston 2000). For constructivists, the only thing that is unchanging is the illusion of unchanging things – all is by chance. Importantly though, relativists agreed with their foundationalist and probabalist counterparts’ answer to the questions about why most humans fail to be able to judge claims to truth (and these questions’ implications for politics and morality), namely: every day people’s supposed fears of contingency and associated susceptibility to impressions of ‘mere appearances’ and, especially, to the supposed ‘deceits of mythmakers to tradition’

Crucial to this view is the presupposition that the world (or phenomenal reality) was created (or can be conceived as having been created) with its human intelligibility in mind (Plato, 427-347 B.C., 1999; Descartes 1596-626, 1984-91; Kant, I. 1963 [1784]). Since antiquity, this presupposition has been variously summarised by the expression ‘Natural Law’ and philosophy’s supposed to provide an ontology (theory about what sorts of things there are in the world and why, epistemology (theory of knowledge) and a classification scheme to address such questions as: Is there such a thing as natural law, above or beyond the domain of human enactments? If so, what is its ultimate source? How might it be discovered, or identified? What is its specific content? How does it relate to man-made laws, and visa-versa? Further – and these are recurrently the central foci - what factors are most responsible for human failures to provide universally valid answers to these questions. Or put another way why do most humans fail to successfully realise philosophy’s supposed task of establishing a timeless stance from which to judge claims to truth, and their separations from and relations to politics and morality.

The other view that concerns Toulmin (1990) centres on ideas that theory’s tasks are to develop ‘as general an account as the nature of different fields allow’ - that is, to develop means to address context dependent problems from perspectives offered by likewise historically contingent but possibly analogous situations. Amongst others, emphasis in these traditions has recurrently fallen on such arguments as: (a) there no context independent problems (‘We never experience or form judgements about objects and events in isolation, but only in connection with a contextualised whole. This latter is called a situation’ [Dewey 1938: 66-67]), (b) neither absolute permanence nor absolute flux, but emergent novelty is normal state of affairs for reality, and crucial for understanding how human beings find the world intelligible, learn from experience and realise aspirations for the future (‘To trust that a thing that we know is real is to feel that it has the independence and power for manifesting itself in yet un-thought of ways in the future’ (Polanyi 1964: 4-5), (c) considerable obstacles are posed for democracy by equations of reality and intelligibility, including

Ever since Plato and Aristotle’s struggle with what they called the ‘mythmakers of tradition,’ foundationalist (rationalist), empiricist (probabalist) as well as their relativist (constructivist) critics have addressed these questions in light of an image that envisages the universe – cosmos (nature) and polis (culture) – as divided and determined by forces with two opposing poles. On one side is absolute unity and permanence (the one), on the other is absolute dis-unity (pure flux) (the many) (McGuire and Tushanska 2001; Latour 2001). Aristotle (1994) famously framed contrasts between his own, Plato’s and their relativist (constructivist) critics’ paradigms for 127

LANDSCAPE IN MIND political and moral consequences of equations of consensus = intelligibility and disagreement = mutual incommensurability, and disregard of the rationality and logic of plurality of public grounds of truth.

present societies (Rowlands and Gledhill 1977: 143). Especially difficult tensions – giving rise to arguments over ‘reconstructions’ being ‘mere guesses and implausible guesses at that’ Leach 1977: 161) - revolved around themes of ‘cultural landscapes’ and problems with categories employed to use ethnographic descriptions to interpret archaeological materials (Hodder 1977). In a number of ways, then as now, at stake are issues ranging from the ‘broadest epistemological levels’ to technical details (Spriggs 1977; see also Layton and Ucko eds. 1999; David and Thomas eds. 2008). Then as now the notion of ‘landscape’ is given a central role in discussions of anthropological and archaeological ‘areas of mutual interest’ (Rowlands 2001; see also Meskell and Preucel eds. 2004; Association of Social Anthropology 2009).

For much of the 20th century the most influentially opposed perspectives on areas of mutual interest and divergence between social anthropology and archaeology departed from the former of the two visions of theory’s tasks (for instance, Augé 1977). Especially polemical disagreements have centered on questions of how and whether either field could or should try to meet the above outlined requirements of an ‘episteme’’ Concerns with relations between contents and historical contexts of such debates heightened polemics. For example, two of the central themes of an influential volume entitled Archaeology and Anthropology: Areas of Mutual Interest (Spriggs ed. 1977) are those of:

But there are also very remarkable changes taking place, which might be summarised as an emergent concern at one and the same time to widen and to narrow the scope of concerns (cf. Koerner 2008), with very interesting implications for deep shifts in orientations away from the former to the latter of the two views on theory’s tasks mentioned at the onset (cf. Toulmin 1990). On one hand the scope of issues is being widened, especially by more ‘socially oriented landscape’ archaeologies and anthropologies (Ingold 2000; David and Thomas eds. 2008) not only to include themes of ‘relating nature, culture and society; time and history; social and spatial scale; meaning and its attachment; and alternative voices’ (Asmore 2004), but also to bring social or cultural anthropology and archaeology together around recent insight in life and physical sciences into problems with the long history of presuppositions that variation and change are anomalies for reality and/or evidence of observational errors. For instance, in Tim Ingold’s (2000) approach to ‘the temporality of landscape’ neither absolute permanence nor absolute flux, but emergent novelty is the normal condition of reality, as well as crucial for understanding how human beings find the world intelligible, learn from experience and realise aspirations for the future.

(a) the impacts of colonial contexts on problematic schemes for classifying, chronologically ordering and explaining the variability, in cultural evolutionary terms, of all ethnographically, historically and archaeologically documented societies, which these scheme’s formulators believed would satisfy requirements of a ‘science of man’, (b) negative implications of ‘speculations,’ on the part of social anthropologists, about the past and, on the part of archaeologists,’ about how artifacts relate to social reconstructions Leach 1977; Hodder 1977; Binford 1981, 1982). Thus, while the broad aim is identify ‘areas of mutual interest,’ considerable tensions are exhibited throughout the volume around (more or less explicitly stated) concerns that any claims to ‘common objects of knowledge’ at intersections of ‘synchronic analyses’ of ethnographic settings, ‘artifact patterns,’ and ‘diachronic reconstructions’ of social change might be speculative, with regards to truth conditions, and suspect on political, and ethical grounds. Michael Rowlands and John Gledhill’s (1977) contribution indicates that much of these tensions related to that:

On the other hand, the scope of concerns can be said to be becoming correspondingly narrower in several fundamental ways. One is by departing from the insight associated with the latter of two above mentioned at the onset (Toulmin 1990) that there are only context dependent problems (cf. Dewey 1938; Prigogene and Stengers 1984; Kauffman 1995). Isabelle Stengers’s (1997) account of challenges facing context dependent approaches to complex dynamic phenomena indicate something of the relevance of this insight for avoiding the epistemic, political and ethical consequences of the analogies between ethnographic and archaeological materials on the basis of supposedly context independent universalising (or meta-physical) cultural evolutionary schemes, which not only worried many of the contributors to the aforementioned volume on archaeology and

The comparative method in early evolutionism hinged on the assumption that whilst the archaeological record confirmed hypothetical stages in the development of human society by embedding theme in the ‘empirical facts’ of stratigraphy and sequence; the ethnographic record, on the other hand, could be used to ‘flesh out’ the archaeological record. Typological sequences of material culture arranged in their ‘natural order’ from simple to complex were the keys to comparison of past and

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STEPHANIE KOERNER: SOME CONCLUDING OBSERVATIONS ON EMERGENT NOVELTY AND PROMISING NEW RELATIONS anthropology (Spriggs ed. 1977) but continue to worry contributors to landscape archaeologies and anthropologies (Layton and Ucko eds. 1999; Davis and Thomas eds. 2008). At issue, she says, with avoiding the highly problematic consequences of such schemes are nothing less than questions like:

Not just our understanding of the diversity of ways in which communities inhabit and transform their uncommon landscapes, but also of emergent novelty amongst physical realms and life forms, will necessarily be ‘partial approximations.’ But they may also, for this very reason, help us to apprehend the intrinsically partial, heterogeneous and approximate nature of human landscapes themselves, thus, the fundamental importance of plurality of life forms and cultures for anything like a community to endure.

Can we attribute a general applicability to the theme of complexity without authorizing generalizing pretentions [supposedly timeless models]: Can we use what present themselves today as ‘complex objects’ [for instance, quasars with formidable energies, fascinating blackholes, single cell organisms, forests, landscapes] to underline the general problems they raise, rather than [to demonstrate the supposed universal validity of] the particular models of solutions they determine? (Stengers 1997: 4.5).

References Aristotle (384-322 BC) 1984. The Complete Works of Aristotle. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Ashmore, W. 2004. Social Archaeologies of Landscape, in L. Meskell amd R. Preucel (eds.) A Companion to Social Archaeology, 230-254. Oxford: Blackwell. Association of Social Anthropology 2008. Announcement of the Annual Conference ‘Theme, Anthropology and Archaeology: Areas of Mutual Interest,’ University of Bristol, April 2009. Augé, M. 1977.The Anthropological Circle; Symbol, Function and History. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Binford, L.R.1981. Behavioral Archaeology and the ‘Pompeii Premise.’ Journal of Anthropological Research 37:195-208. Binford, L.R. 1982. The Archaeology of Place. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 1:5-31. David, B. and Thomas, J. 2008. Landscape Archaeology: Introduction, in B. David and J. Thomas (eds.) A Handbook of Landscape Archaeology, 27-43. Walnut Creek: New Left coast Press. Descartes, R. (1596-1626) 1984-91. The Philosophical Writings of Descartes, translated by J. Cottingham, R. Stoothoff and D. Murdoch. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Dewey, J. 1938. Experience and Education. New York: Macmillan. Hodder, I. 1977. A Study in Ethnoarchaeology, in M. Spriggs (ed.) The Relation between Archaeology and Anthropology, in M. Spriggs (ed.), Archaeology and Anthropology: Areas of Mutual Interest, 117-141. Oxford: BAR Supplimentary Series 19. Ingold, T. 2000. The Perception of the Environment. Essays in livelihood, dwelling and skill. London: Routledge. Kant, I. 1963 [1784]. Idea of a universal history from a cosmopolitan point of view. In On History, translated by L. Beck White). Indiana: Bobbs-Merrill. Koerner, S. 2008. Iconoclash and Appreciating that No One Ever Has or Ever Will Be Pre-modern, in V.O. Jorge and J. Thomas (eds.), Archaeology and the Politics of Vision in a Post-modern Context, chapter 3. Newcastle: Cambridge Academic Publishers. Layton, R and Ucko, P. 1999. The Archaeology and Anthropology of Landscape. London: Routledge.

It is not likely to be by chance that today’s efforts in landscape anthropologies and archaeologies entering on themes of ‘relating nature, culture and society; time and history; social and spatial scale; meaning and its attachment’ (Ashmore 2004) and of ‘materiality, memory and cultural transmission’ (Rowlands 2001) are also motivated by concerns with alternative voices’ (Asmore 2004) and ‘postcolonial and indigenous archaeology and anthropology’ (Rowlands 2001). In traditions that depart from the insight that there are no context independent problems, the questions Stengers (1997) poses bear directly upon obstacles to democratic appreciation of the logic and rationalty (mutual intelligibility) of plurality of interpretations of the past, public grounds of truth, and aspirations for the future. In ancient versions of these traditions (which critically and constructively challenged claims of Platonists, Aristotelian and their relativist counterparts) as now, for a number of archeologists and anthropologists, landscape is no longer reducible to such supposedly context independent categories as ‘land’, ‘space,’ nature’ or a ‘cultural image out there’ opposed to meanings somewhere in individual minds (Ingold 2004). For Instance, For Tim Ingold (2000: 189) ‘landscape is constituted as an enduring record – and testimony to – the lives and works of past generations who have dwelt within it, and in so doing left there something of themselves.’ In this view, a genuine appreciation of ‘alternative voices’ requires appreciating the coeval and spatially overlapping diversity of ways in which communities occupy what they differently understand as an ‘uncommon landscape.’ It should be no surprise that such widening and narrowing of the scope of landscape as an area of mutual interest opens space for fresh perspectives on worries about ‘speculation.’ It enables us to interpret in constructive positive ways what foundationalists, probabalists and relativists would interpret (or explain away) as caused by failures to realise theory’s supposed tasks of describing and explaining all things in wholly context independent timeless terms. 129

LANDSCAPE IN MIND Meskell, L. and Preucel, R. (eds.) 2004. A Companion to Social Archaeology. Oxford: Blackwell. Polanyi, M. 1965 [1964] Duke University Lectures, 1964. Microfilm, University of California, Berkeley. Copy from University Library Photographic Services. Leach, E. 1977. A View from the Bridge, in M. sprigs (ed.) The Relation between Archaeology and Anthropology, in M. Spriggs (ed.), Archaeology and Anthropology: Areas of Mutual Interest, 161-176. Oxford: BAR Supplimentary Series 19. Rowlands, M. and Gledhill, J. 1977. The Relation between Archaeology and Anthropology, in M. Spriggs (ed.), Archaeology and Anthropology: Areas of Mutual Interest, 143-159. Oxford: BAR Supplimentary Series 19. Rowlands, M. 2004. Anthropology and Archaeology, in J. Bintliff (ed.), Companion to Archaeology, 473-489. Blackwell, Oxford. Spriggs, M. (ed.) 1977. Archaeology and Anthropology: Areas of Mutual Interest. Oxford: BAR Supplimentary Series 19. Toulmin, S. 1990. Cosmopolis. The hidden agenda of modernity. Chicago: University of Chicago.

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