Hi my name is Kyra Smith and I was one of the curatorial assistants at the Peabody this summer! I’m a recent archaeology master’s graduate from Boston University where I focused on Indigenous archaeologies, food sovereignty, and the archaeology of the South Pacific Islands. Having previously worked in the archaeology department of another museum in undergrad, I was thrilled to apply for this position as a curatorial assistant, especially at an institution that is so dedicated to NAGPRA. I was so invested in the position I had my family ship me my sister’s 1998 Toyota Camry from Washington State- which in the state of Massachusetts counts as an Antique Vehicle!
Working at the Peabody over these last ten weeks has been an exercise in flexibility, learning as we go along, and exposure to things we’ve never seen or interacted with before. There are so many things I could write about, but the story I want to share as my time here comes to an end is how the Peabody got its own pet mammoth.
On a particularly hot and humid Friday, I finally got to use an atlatl for the first time. Ever since undergrad I have heard professors and archaeologists talk about atlatls, and even how they used to take students to try throwing them in previous years. Ever since then I have been biding my time until the opportunity arose- and oh was it worth the wait.
John, Cyrus, and I went out onto the Vista bright and early before it got too hot, and John took us through the basics. If you have ever used one of those plastic arms to play fetch with your dog- it’s nothing like that at all, which I learned very quickly. I imagine it was quite the sight for the construction workers on break in the shade of a nearby tree to see us attempting to throw the arrows taller than we were with varying degrees of success. After Cyrus and I (sort of) got the hang of it we were going to do target practice at the international standard target, but sadly that had to wait as the aforementioned construction workers were still under that tree which was too close to the target for comfort.
So, we went back inside to rest our arms and cool down, and by then an idea had begun to form. One that was inspired by our conversations about whether we were successful hunters of our theoretical mammoth/mastodon. That idea would have to wait because about an hour later we went back out to try aiming the arrows instead of attempting to throw them as far as humanly possible. It is much easier to attempt to throw them as far as humanly possible than it is to hit a large, completely still target. Still, Cyrus and I were able to land a couple hits each on the actual target and not into the bush next to it, and we called that a win. We may never know if we were skilled enough at throwing the atlatl to take on a mammoth, so instead I made a mammoth for the museum.
In my free time, when I’m not at the Peabody, I learned how to crochet amigurumi, which is a Japanese name for a style of stuffed crochet animals. That weekend after we threw the atlatls, I found a pattern online and spent some time crocheting a mammoth to be a mascot and companion at the museum. And thus, Josie was born! She was named by Marla, and now lives at the Peabody, where Marla promises she will never be used as target practice when throwing atlatls. For anyone else interested in crocheting or amigurumi, I got the pattern for Josie from CrochetGrove on Etsy.
Josie also represents one of my favorite aspects of working in a museum, as they are fundamentally institutions created for the purpose of preserving and storing information, things, and stories for perpetuity, there will always be a record of my impact whether it’s the work I did, the things I made, or the stuffed mammoths I created. Sure, the things I’m doing may not be monumental, but they are fundamental things that have left a trail of my action on parts of the museum like the catalog, or the new housing for artifacts with my initials on it, and the drawers in the collections storage where Cyrus and I curated and displayed artifacts from all over the world so that the museum and its staff can better tell the stories of the materials they care for. It’s a reminder of how much the little things mean in the greater scheme of things.
*******************************************
As Kyra aptly said in their post above, the Peabody Institute provided plenty of opportunities to expand our creative and intellectual spirit. As a Historical Archaeology graduate student at UMass Boston, I had minor collections experience and applied to the summer curatorial assistant position to undergo formal museum collections training. Having admired the Peabody Institute’s commitment to NAGPRA and tTribal relations for years, I was eager to witness the processes and procedures that go into the day-to-day work. However, what I was not expecting was the range of creations and artifacts I would be interacting with. My archaeological background is rooted in the Northeast United States and focuses on environmental analysis, so my mind was blown when one of our first tasks was rehousing ancient botanical remains from Tehuacán Valley, Mexico. Coming face-to-face to some of the world’s oldest domesticated maize was an experience I will never forget.
Kyra and I spent a lot of time with ceramics, lithics, and textiles from regions we were pretty unfamiliar with. Despite our lack of regional understanding, the Peabody staff always provided context and demonstrated deep respect for all creations. As we created mounts for modern Guatemalan and ancient Peruvian textiles we learned their patterns and language; as I rehoused lithics I would consider the generational knowledge and studied craftsmanship it would take to form them. Creating spaces to house and display archaeological and ethnographic creations ranging from the Lucy Foster household in Andover to Meso-America to Paleolithic Europe was an honor and I am proud to have contributed to the updated collection spaces and stories the Peabody staff can tell.
The Peabody Institute has a very storied past that was illuminated through organizing both the library and Eugene Winter’s archive. As it was founded in 1901 with contributions from many different kinds of archaeologists, the library seems to contain the entire history and complicated legacy of North American archaeology. In addition to the library, Eugene Winter, Honorary Curator and lifelong contributor to the Peabody, had left behind an archive after his passing. Kyra and I spent some time exploring his legacy through the resources, photographs, and ephemera he had designated important enough to keep. Interacting with both the collections, library and archives created an meta-institutional feedback loop as a reminder that working in archaeology requires positionality, empathy, and acceptance of “not-knowing.” We will never be able to alter the decisions made in the past, but we can always alter our perspectives in the present and contribute to a future that centers people and not only their “things.”
As Kyra noted, working at the Peabody for the past ten weeks might not have been monumental to its legacy, but the work that has been completed by the longer-term staff is monumental to the field. The Peabody staff have taught me fundamental collection management skills that are coated in careful consideration, empathy, and a desire to create a better future that I am extremely grateful to inherit.
June brought a family trip to London, including a visit to the British Museum. Many websites list the top ten items that you should not miss at the museum, and the British Museum itself has a leaflet with their recommended highlights. The British Museum is sort of ground zero for archaeology, anthropology, and colonialism, as well as mounting calls for repatriation (many people are surprised that the British Museum is prevented from repatriating cultural items by law, and can only deaccession items that are deemed duplicates, damaged, or no longer of public interest). A surprise was a number of pieces by contemporary artists that stand in juxtaposition to items from the past. It was particularly neat to encounter several ceramic pieces by Diego Romero in the case along with older and ancient pieces of Pueblo pottery. After the visit, I decided that I’d shared my own British Museum top ten list and my own repatriation recommendations.
Diego Romero’s contemporary Pueblo pottery commemorates the Pueblo Revolt of 1680; at the British Museum Romero’s work appears with older and ancient pieces.
No. 1 Hoa Hakananai’a (meaning ‘lost, hidden, or stolen friend’)
Hoa Hakananai’a is one of two Moai from Rapa Nui (Easter Island) held by the British Museum. According the exhibit text, both Moai were taken from Rapa Nui in 1868 by Commodore Richard Powell and the crew of a British survey ship, HMS Topaze. The Admiralty presented Hoa Hakananai’a to Queen Victoria, who ultimately gave him to the British Museum, rejoining Moai Hava, who went directly from the Admiralty to the museum. Near the base of the colossal figure of Hoa Hakananai’a are offerings made by representatives from Rapa Nui. The Rapa Nui requested repatriation in 2019 and the exhibit text explains that conversations about return are ongoing.
Should the British Museum repatriate Hoa Hakananai’a and Moai Hava? Yes.
No. 2 Parthenon Marbles
Perhaps central to requests for repatriation of cultural items from the British Museum are the sculpted frieze panels from the Parthenon–long called the Elgin Marbles, after the individual who originally took the panels. These impressive carvings once adorned the Parthenon–the Temple of Athena–on the Acropolis in Athens and date from nearly 2,500 years ago. The pamphlets that are usually available to explain why the panels shouldn’t be repatriated were all gone by the time we were there, but the British Museum website explains, “It is universally recognised that the sculptures that survive are best seen and conserved in museums.” Is it? The website goes on to note that in 2009, a new museum was constructed in Athens to showcase the panels. Greece has asked for the return of the carvings numerous times. Two notes from our visit. First, our friend Bill, a big comic and graphic novel connoisseur, noted that the so-called “South Metopes,” the panels depicting a battle between centaurs and Lapiths at the marriage feast of Peirithoos, followed the graphic, sequential storytelling now best known from comic books. Once he pointed this out, it completely changed my appreciation for the panels. Secondly, if you look out the windows of Gallery 18, where the sculptures and carvings are exhibited, you could see someone making breakfast in a flat directly behind the museum. I found the juxtaposition of these culturally and politically charged items with the quotidian of daily life to bring the entire, global conversation about the marbles into stark relief.
The gallery featuring the Parthenon Marbles was a popular destination when we visited in June.
Should the British Museum repatriate the Parthenon Marbles? Yes.
No. 3 Hopewell platform pipes
I’m definitely deviating from the top ten lists provided by the British Museum and other writers at this point, but for a student of archaeology of the Southeastern United States, I was really looking forward to seeing the Hopewell platform pipes. The Hopewell pipes, of stone, with beautifully carved birds and animals in miniature, were removed from Mound City in Ohio by E.G. Squier and Edwin Davis–remember Squier and Davis? Authors of 1848’s Ancient Monuments of the Mississippi Valley, one of the earliest archaeological publications of the Smithsonian Institution, sent this remarkable group of nearly fifty carvings abroad. According to the catalog for the 1977 exhibition Sacred Circles, “These little sculptures have a meaning that far outstrips their size. One feels their importance. It has something to do with the salient presentation of each animal, quail, hawk, bear, panther, snake, beaver or squirrel.” Acknowledging the high arts, architecture, and far-flung influences of the Hopewell, UNESCO recently designated eight of these monumental earthwork complexes as world heritage sites. Many institutions in the United States hold material heritage of Hopewell, and consultation with Tribes and Nations, as well as affiliations are beginning to happen.
Hopewell platform pipes from Ohio displayed at the British Museum.
Should the British Museum repatriate the Hopewell platform pipes? Yes.
No. 4 Sutton Hoo ship burial
I was excited to see the items from the seventh century Sutton Hoo ship burial. In 1939, in Suffolk, avocational archaeologist Basil Brown worked with landowner Edith Pretty to excavate the remains of an Anglo-Saxon ship burial, including a trove of weapons and jewels, including gold and garnet items and a fabulous portrait helmet of iron and copper alloy, that some have thought might be King Raedwald of East Anglia.
The Sutton Hoo portrait helmet.
Many learned a little about Sutton Hoo from the 2021 Netflix movie The Dig starring Carey Mulligan and Ralph Fiennes. Sadly The Dig didn’t tell us much about the discovery or the project itself, even changing elements of the story and characters, like Mercie Lack and Barbara Wagstaff, teachers and amateur photographers who volunteered to help and captured amazing images of the fragile and rapidly deteriorating find (they became a man in the movie–why?). Okay, so, you probably are thinking Sutton Hoo, Suffolk, solidly in England, no question of repatriation, right? Well, a 2020 blog on Cultural Restitution called for the return of the Sutton Hoo helmet and other items from the ship burial to regional and local museums. The blog, based on an argument forwarded by historian James Barr, notes all the reasons the British Museum would oppose such a repatriation–Edith Pretty donated the items to the museum, the 1963 act that prohibits repatriation, as well as environmental and ethical concerns. Interestingly, we encountered a similar position in 2014 after the Peabody Institute of Archaeology’s repatriation of Mesolithic era painted pebbles to France’s National Museum of Archaeology (Édouard Piette, who had discovered the pebbles and donated them to the national museum, stipulated that they should never leave the so-called Piette Room). We felt pretty good about the repatriation, but upon visiting the area where the pebbles were found, locals complained that the pebbles weren’t coming home to them, but rather hoarded in Paris. Hmmm, good questions.
Should the British Museum repatriate the Sutton Hoo ship burial? Yes.
No. 5 Lewis Chessmen
A Lewis Chessmen queen seems to be considering her plight.
A gallery or two over from Sutton Hoo and you find the twelfth century Lewis Chessmen, carved of walrus ivory and found in the nineteenth century in the Outer Hebribean Isle of Lewis in Scotland. Some went to the National Museum of Scotland–we saw them on our trip in 2017–but the bulk were sold to the British Museum. The source of the ivory and where the figures were made (maybe Norway!) is debated, but they are delightful, including berserkers chomping on their shields and queens doing what only could be described as a medieval face palm. You might think, wait, these are from the UK, so all good for the British Museum to keep, right? I wasn’t too surprised, however, to see that there have been efforts to return the chessmen not only to Scotland, but in 2010 Scottish MP Angus MacNeil called for the chessmen to return to Museum nan Eilean (museum of the islands) at Lews Castle in Stornoway, the major town of the Outer Hebrides. A 2017 Global Heritage blog post notes, “Recognition that the Lewis Chessmen are part of the heritage of the Western Isles of Scotland has come in the last few years after much lobbying, when the British Museum decided to loan six chess pieces to the Museum nan Eilean.”
Should the British Museum repatriate the Lewis Chessmen? Yes.
No. 6 Rosetta Stone
The Rosetta Stone was one of the more popular objects–I lament that I didn’t get a photo of the three young men capturing a selfie.
The Rosetta Stone is sort of like the British Museum’s Mona Lisa–a lot of people were crammed in to get a look and it’s a little smaller than you think it will be. A group of young men in their 20s did a selfie. The Rosetta Stone includes translations of a text in three writing systems–classical hieroglyphics, Demotic script (a simplified hieroglyphics), and Ancient Greek. This allowed nineteenth century scholars–especially French archaeologist Jean-Francois Champollion–to crack the code of ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics, earning the Rosetta Stone a place in archaeology’s top ten. In 2022, Monica Hanna, dean at the Arab Academy for Science, Technology & Maritime Transportation, organized a petition calling for the repatriation of the Rosetta Stone, noting, “the British Museum’s holding of the stone is a symbol of Western cultural violence against Egypt.” The petition garnered over 4,000 signatures. Zahi Hawass, well-known Egyptian archaeologist–circulated a similar petition–which got over 100,000 signatures. According to reporting in 2022, the British Museum argued that an 1801 treaty included legally transferred ownership of the famous tablet.
Should the British Museum repatriate the Rosetta Stone? Yes.
No. 7 North West palace of Ashurnasirpal gate
The lamassu figure from Ashurnasirpal’s palace throne room entrance is paired with the replica of the Balawat Gate (to the left in this picture).
Of all the cultural treasures housed at the British Museum, the Ashurnasirpal gate is perhaps one of the most striking. I first learned about these massive carvings of winged human-headed lions (or lamassu) guardians from the royal palace at Nimrud (modern northern Iraq) in grad school. The late Barbara Barletta taught a fantastic art history course on Ancient Mesopotamia and Egypt. The tests were very different from those in archaeology, and were based around projected slides that corresponded to questions on the test. I became proficient at making quick sketches in my notes so I could keep track of which architectural features and cultural items were which. Erected during the reign of neo-Assyrian king Ashurnasirpal II, almost 3,000 years ago, the figure was excavated by Sir Austen Henry Layard in 1851. A similar, perhaps matching figure is at the Met in New York. I can’t find any specific calls for repatriation by governments of Iraq, but they have been increasingly involved in the return of looted cultural items, including cuneiform tablets that landed at the Museum of the Bible and Cornell University. In 2023 Iraqi-American artist Michael Rakowitz offered his 2018 sculpture The Invisible Enemy Should Not Exist–his version of a massive lamassu–in exchange for repatriation of the Ashurnasirpal carving. An article about Rakowitz’s offer indicate that he specifically wanted to see the return of the Ashurnasirpal carving to respond to the destruction of a lamassu dating to 700 BCE at the Nergal Gate in Nineveh, which was purposely destroyed by the Islamic State in 2015.
Should the British Museum repatriate the Ashurnasirpal gate? Yes.
No. 8 Aztec serpent pectoral
The mosaic on the Aztec serpent (or caterpillar!) pectoral is made of thousands of chips of turquoise with spondylus shell highlights.
The serpent pectoral is one of several turquoise mosaics from Mesoamerica associated with the Aztec and Mixtec of central Mexico, dating from 1,400 to 1,521. Carved of cedar wood, the undulating body of the double-headed serpent is covered with an intricate mosaic of turquoise and shell. The back side is flat, and unadorned, leading most to describe this as a pectoral, which could have been worn suspended on the chest of a person or larger statue. A catalog note by Vila Llonch notes, “The Nahuatl term ‘coatl’ can be translated as both serpent and twin. The Mexica considered serpents to be powerful, multifaceted creatures that could bridge the spheres (the underworld, water and sky) owing to their physical and mythical characterisitics.” Joshua Fitzgerald offers another interpretation, suggesting the pectoral is not a snake, but rather a caterpillar, representing less bad omens, and more a physical representation of how to think about life stages. The pectoral was purchased by the British Museum from a dealer, representing “an Italian gentleman” in 1894, after considerable negotiations about the price, as well as intrigue involving Duchessa Massimo (Teresa Maria Doria-Pamphili-Landi) and the Massimo Family of Rome. It’s almost impossible to look at a book about the Aztecs or Mesoamerican archaeology without encountering the mosaic pectoral–it’s famous! I can’t find specific instances of Mexico calling for the return of the mosaic pectoral, but a 2022 article by Amah-Rose Abrams points out increasing opposition by Mexico to international auctions, as well as a legacy of protecting cultural heritage from pilfering and removal that dates back to at least 1911, following the Mexican Revolution. In that piece, Mexico’s culture minister, Alejandra Frausto Guerrero, is quoted, stating “any piece of national heritage that is permanently outside the country, not temporarily for an exhibition or cultural cooperation, comes from an illegal act.”
Should the British Museum repatriate the Aztec serpent pectoral? Yes.
No. 9 Nisga’a house pole
The Nisga’a and Haida house poles overlooking the British Museum lunch area.
Two house poles–what many might call totem poles–occupy an area near where you can have lunch at the British Museum. One is Haida, the other Nisga’a, from Angeedaw on the Nass River in British Columbia. I was particularly interested to see the Nisga’a house pole, since a presentation at the November 2023 AAIA repatriation conference highlighted the rematriation of another Nisga’a house pole from the National Museums of Scotland. Both pts’ann were taken by anthropologist Marius Barbeau, who was commissioned to acquire these items from the UK museums. The online entry for the Nisga’a pole includes this text:
The receipt in the Canadian Museum reads: ‘M.Barbeau Nass River Aug 30 1932. [To] Smith and his clan For totem pole of Eagle-Beaver, their property, which they cede in complete clan agreement without further claim (assuming responsibility of division of price between themselves) to M.Barbeau for his disposal according to authority received. Received payment in full (signed) William Smith his mark. (witness) Albert Allen. $310’ The difference in sale and cost figures being accounted for by travel and other expenses?
Apparently, similar documents exist for the rematriated pts’ann, but family stories contradict the receipted account, according to an October 17, 2023 story in IndigiNews. That story–and the presentations at the November repatriation conference–explained that these pts’ann were carved as memorials to deceased family members and are considered more than objects, but as ancestors themselves. The Angeedaw pts’ann is about 25 feet tall with carvings of mythological creatures, an eagle, and beavers.
Should the British Museum repatriate the Nisga’a house pole? Yes.
No 10 Citico shell gorget
Note–I’m not including any images of the shell gorget, as this is so clearly a funerary item.
In a case near the Hopewell pipes described above was a beautiful example of a Citico style shell gorget. I was surprised to encounter this cultural item at the British Museum, as I had become quite familiar with these objects in repatriation work here at the Robert S. Peabody Institute of Archaeology. These gorgets, made from the outer whorl of a large whelk shell and depicting stylized rattlesnakes, appear almost exclusively in burials of the late Mississippian era in the southeastern United States. A similar gorget from Etowah, a major mound complex near Atlanta, Georgia, was on exhibit at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History when I was there last summer. All of the examples from Etowah and Little Egypt here at the Peabody are awaiting repatriation, either as associated or unassociated funerary objects. My degree of familiarity with these gorgets increased in 2018 when we began working with the FBI to recover several stolen shell gorgets–which was partially successful. That work led me to scour publications, auction catalogs, and online auctions for shell gorgets in the hopes of recognizing one of the stolen ones. Helpful in all that is an exhaustive catalog of shell gorgets compiled by Jeffrey P. Brain and Philip Phillips, published by the Harvard Museum Press in 1996. The British Museum example, which apparently came to the museum in 1884 from William Bragge, does not appear in the Brain and Phillips catalog. Bragge was a nineteenth century engineer, antiquarian, and collector, with a specialty in tobacco; the British Museum holds 1,899 objects that are related to Bragge’s collecting efforts, including objects from far-flung Indigenous cultures, often pipes or smoking-related paraphernalia.
Should the British Museum repatriate the Citico shell gorget? Yes.
It’s been a few months since we shared our last building update and so much has transpired since staff have been back in the Peabody. These last few months have been busy for the Peabody staff, as they worked on moving the collections, moving furniture back into the building from offsite storage, and organizing/cleaning the building to welcome Phillips Academy classes in the spring term.
The largest and most involved of these projects, is moving the collections from temporary spaces around the building to our newly renovated, sustainable, and secure collections space, putting all holdings in one place! This project is ongoing and requires a great deal of care as the collections team transport items to their new housing and mapping out how items’ locations are organized and tracked. We also are extremely grateful for our Peabody volunteers and work duty students who have helped with this project!
Creating new housing for collection itemsTracking locations in the new collection space
In addition to moving the collections, the Peabody is organizing our classroom spaces to welcome back students this term. With our furniture back onsite and in place, we are ready to have students back through our doors (just in time!) with classes starting this week!
The Peabody library – now fully accessible – received a deep clean and is ready to serve as classroom and meeting space for students and out colleagues across campus.
Peabody staff returning books to shelves on the second floor landing.
With things returning to normal, we are only opening our doors at this time for Phillips Academy classes and events. This is a “soft opening” as we continue organizing our new collection spaces and preparing for our next round of building renovation. We will continue to keep the updates coming as we enter the warmer months of spring. Stay tuned for some exciting content from the Peabody to be shared on our social channels this PA Giving Day – Wednesday, March 27th!
Almost five years ago, I began volunteering at the Peabody Institute. I remember speaking with Peabody Curator of Collections, Marla Taylor, one evening after an evening presentation there and, as they say, the rest is history. In my time there, I think I’ve seen every possible iteration of projectile point imaginable – and there have been many – but what resonates most for me are the stories behind almost every object I’ve handled.
The museum has an important collection of approximately 600,000 objects essentially from North, Central, and South America. It is unlikely that I’ll get to see or work with every one. So far, I have helped catalog 12,000 year old bones from a cave in Peru where South American agriculture is believed to have started, reshelved a couple of dozen hominid skull casts, been taught the rudiments of differentiating mere stones from artifacts that were used for a myriad of tasks, and more.
How I ended up there is a longer story, but on one of several tours, a tomahawk that was found after the Battle of Little Big Horn was shown to me. It was made from a table leg and a piece of metal from another object that was pounded into its newer, more lethal form. My son thought that was pretty compelling and asked for a photo of me with that object – the museum and I willingly complied.
Peabody Volunteer, Richard, with a tomahawk from the Battle of Little Big Horn.
I recently was examining an object that I couldn’t identify – as with many things my neophyte status should suggest – and I asked my ‘boss’ what it might be. You need to understand that the folks at the museum have seen and handled many such objects, so when they get excited by one, I figure it has some particular traction. Marla said – “Oh – that’s really cool,” so I paid close attention.
She said that it was made of flint – it was both very fine grained and smooth, except for some obvious flakes that had seemed to have been worked by somebody – something. Further, she said she knew that it came from a particular region in France and proceeded to pull up a Google search that clearly matched the object I held – a stone hand axe. So far, so good.
Next to the photo and a map were the characters ‘1MYA’ – which, I had to ask about. They, of course, meant 1 Million Years Ago. So – in my hand, I held a hand axe from France that was picked up, engineered, and used by somebody, something about one million years ago!
A stone hand axe from France, circa 1 Million Years Ago.
I went home and found myself puzzling over the object and its age. I can’t keep straight Homo sapiens, Australopithecus, Neanderthal, or any of those beings and ages, but I felt pretty sure that Homo sapiens didn’t go back that far. And after e-mailing Marla the next day, I was assured that indeed, it wasn’t of Homo sapiens origin – it was Home erectus – dating back to that 1MYA descriptor.
So – in short, I’ve had the privilege – for it is that – of holding an object, made by an ancient being for whatever purpose he or she felt necessary. I’m assuming that they weren’t thinking that it would be cool if it ended up in museum someday. They were using it to be sure they ate that night and survived long enough, so that we H. sapiens would have a go in their future.
So – long story short – it’s pretty much not only educational and worthwhile, but lots of fun volunteering at the Peabody.
After five years, I continue to enjoy and feel productive with my time at the Peabody – enmeshed with interesting objects with compelling stories, but more importantly with an amazing group of staff, colleagues, and friends. To a one, they are intelligent, patient (no job need be done in haste or unsafely), generous in both time and knowledge, and tolerant of my quirky humor and often bad puns. It doesn’t get any better.
Revised regulations for the Native American Grave Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA) went into effect January 2024. NAGPRA was passed in 1990 and requires museums to repatriate Native American ancestral remains, funerary belongings, sacred items and items of cultural patrimony back to Tribal communities. The Peabody has shared how we think about the law and the associated labor (emotionally and intellectually) in past blog posts.
The revised regulations streamline the requirements and process for repatriation, require updates from museums, eliminate the category of “culturally unidentifiable human remains,” and establishes a Duty of Care for museums holding materials subject to repatriation. It is that last change that is having the biggest ripple effect throughout the museum world.
The Duty of Care clause of the regulations (43 CFR 10.1(d)) state that a museum must [highlights are mine for emphasis]:
Consultwith lineal descendants, Indian Tribes, or Native Hawaiian organizations on the appropriate storage, treatment, or handling of human remains or cultural items;
Make a reasonable and good-faith effort to incorporate and accommodate the Native American traditional knowledge of lineal descendants, Indian Tribes, or Native Hawaiian organizations in the storage, treatment, or handling of human remains or cultural items; and
Obtain free, prior, and informed consent from lineal descendants, Indian Tribes, or Native Hawaiian organizations prior to allowing any exhibition of, access to, or research on human remains or cultural items. Research includes, but is not limited to, any study, analysis, examination, or other means of acquiring or preserving information about human remains or cultural items. Research of any kind on human remains or cultural items is not required by the Act or these regulations.
These words are incredibly powerful and are resonating, with mixed reaction, across the museum field. Many news outlets have covered the reaction of several large museums to these regulations:
While covering exhibitions can feel drastic and extreme, I would argue that it is a direct result of insufficient consultation efforts and a false dichotomy between NAGPRA and non-NAGPRA collections. Because museums only need consent to display materials subject to NAGPRA (ancestral remains, funerary belongings, sacred items, or items of cultural patrimony), covering displays is an acknowledgement that those institutions have not done their due diligence to identify items subject to the law in their collections. They thought they understood what was covered by NAGPRA and utilized the rest of the collection to suit their own goals. This approach has fed into the underlying tension between Tribes and museums for decades.
I strongly recommend this podcast from Today Explained for an introduction to the topic and an honest conversation: Fight at the Museum (2/22/2024)
What does all of this mean for the Peabody Institute? Honestly, not much will change.
About six years ago, Peabody staff decided to remove all exhibitions from display. We recognized that our staff (all non-Native) were not the right people to determine what stories could be told through the collection. We understood that Native voices were essential to the process and that it would be irresponsible to move forward with exhibitions that lacked those voices.
The Peabody also has an established research policy that requires consultation and support before access is provided to any portion of the collection. This approach actually goes beyond the Duty of Care clause within NAGPRA and applies to all areas of the collection. In the nearly three years we have had this policy, I have not seen a meaningful decrease in research activity.
In my opinion, these changes are long overdue and I am happy to see a tangible shift in the power dynamics back to Tribes around their cultural material. I am proud of the work that that Peabody Institute has done and I am confident that we will continue to move in a positive direction.
The 2023 International Conference of Indigenous Archives, Libraries and Museums was held in Oklahoma City at the end of October and hosted by the Association of Tribal Archives, Libraries and Museums (ATALM). ATALM is an international non-profit organization that maintains a network of support for Indigenous programs, provides culturally relevant programming and services, encourages collaboration among Tribal and non-Tribal cultural institutions, and articulates contemporary issues related to developing and sustaining the cultural sovereignty of Native Nations. The annual conference provides a venue for cultural institutions that seek to protect and advance Indigenous culture and lifeways to share best practices.
The conference included ninety-eight sessions and a host of keynote speakers organized around the theme “Honoring and Elevating Indigenous Culture and Knowledge Systems.” I was fortunate that the Peabody provided me with the opportunity to attend. It was an excellent opportunity to make connections and learn from people in my field who are working at the forefront of decolonizing institutions. The number of relevant conference sessions meant that choosing which to attend was extremely difficult. Luckily, I was there with Peabody curator Marla Taylor and we split-up to attend more sessions.
Within the sessions I experienced many inspirational and emotional moments. Indigenous and non-Indigenous presenters shared their experiences working at reversing centuries of colonial practices within cultural institutions. As an employee of a non-Indigenous research institution that houses Indigenous materials, it was an extremely powerful experience.
View from outside the conference after the first day of sessions.
Chief among my experiences was a day-long preconference workshop entitled “Tools and Strategies to Support Indigenous Intellectual Property.” The workshop was led by a team from Local Context, an organization that is focused on increasing Indigenous involvement in data governance and the integration of Indigenous values into data systems. You can find a much more detailed description of their work on their website.
The workshop introduced the participants to copyright law, how to identify copyrighted materials, and strategies for working with copyrighted Indigenous intellectual property (IP) held in museum collections. The copyright of Indigenous IP is particularly insidious, giving ownership, and control over access and circulation to the person who records, writes, or documents the Indigenous IP, not the creator. Prior to the workshop I didn’t know how copyright was created. I also considered the digitization process, the idea of the digital commons, and the transition of copyrighted material to the public domain as a democratizing force providing equal access to information. However, free use of these materials becomes complicated when they contain culturally sensitive or inaccurate information.
Copyright of Indigenous IP cannot be corrected retroactively and inclusion in the public domain cannot be avoided, but there are workarounds. Institutions can choose not to share Indigenous IP that they house without permission from relevant Tribal communities. Additionally, Local Context has created a series of labels that Indigenous communities can use to add additional context to collections held in non-Indigenous institutions. The labels help foster communication and collaboration between the institutions and Indigenous communities and are a pathway for inserting Tribal authority into institutional data systems.
The conference was a tremendous event and I came away with a renewed vigor for the work that we do at the Peabody.
This summer, 23 young archaeologists set out to investigate one of the first buildings constructed by Samuel Phillips Jr. after he founded Phillips Academy. During the first week of the Andover Summer program, the students of the Lower School’s Dig This course were introduced to the story of the Mansion House and the mysterious fire that destroyed it in 1887. According to primary accounts, the fire seemed to have started in two different places in the house. This account was made even more suspicious by sources that said the caretakers, Mr. and Mrs. Carter, had their bags packed the day of the fire and walked away with insurance money. With this interesting piece of information, the students were excited to uncover more clues about the Mansion House and the people who inhabited it. The students worked in groups of 3 to 4 at six excavation units. These units were spread across the site in areas that, using past excavation results and Ground Penetrating Radar maps, had a good chance of finding evidence of the Mansion House.
Figure 1. Commemorative Plaque of the Mansion House
The first day of excavations was met with enthusiasm, apprehension, and later exhaustion as the students realized how much work goes into opening a unit. Nonetheless, we persevered and by the end of the first week of excavations many groups had already finished Level 1. Some had even found glass and metal artifacts which, of course, created healthy competition between groups and motivated the students as they continued in the second week of excavations.
Figure 2. Two students working in Excavation Unit 1
During the second week, things got interesting. The students working in Excavation Unit 5 came across an 1802 “Draped Bust” Liberty penny which caused a ripple of excitement for both the students and the instructors. This coin gave an important terminus post quem (TPQ) for the level and showed the students how old the artifacts we were finding really were.
Additionally, in Excavation Unit 2 Level 2, a brick feature began to reveal itself in the northeast corner. This unit was placed near a 2018 excavation unit that uncovered part of a chimney, so it is likely these features were related and Unit 2 uncovered another part of the chimney which helps in understanding how large the chimneys would have been and the layout of the Mansion House. The images below show the brick feature when it began to be discovered in Level 2 and the brick feature in Level 3 before backfilling.
Figure 3. Brick feature in Excavation Unit 2 Level 2Figure 4. Brick feature in Excavation Unit 2 Level 3.
The third and final week of excavations supported the archaeological adage that you always find the most interesting stuff right before you’re going to leave a project. This week, two new features were discovered. One was in Excavation Unit 6, which was intended to find one of the foundational walls of the structure. This feature also included a brick, though it is unclear if it relates to another chimney of the house. There was also a large stone and some smaller stones found near it, though, likely not enough to constitute a foundational wall of the building.
Figure 5. Students working in Excavation Unit 6
That being said, one of the biggest finds of the project included a huge rectangular stone with other large stones overlapping it. This feature was found in Excavation Unit 1 which was placed north of Excavation Unit 2 in the hopes of uncovering part of the foundation of the house. Given the size of the stone and the overlapping rock around it, it is pretty likely that this feature relates to the foundation or a wall of the Mansion House. On the last day of excavations this unit surprised us further by containing a large amount of metal artifacts in the southwest corner of the unit. A fork, a hinge, a handle, and a plethora of other artifacts were uncovered in the last level of this unit. We probably could have found more in the next level if we didn’t have to backfill the next day. This unit is definitely one to revisit in future years!
Figure 6. Stone feature in Excavation Unit 1 Level 3.
While neither unit contained a feature, Excavation Unit 3 and Excavation Unit 4 contained a lot of charcoal and mortar. Excavation Unit 3 specifically had extremely dark, somewhat ashy soil which was likely due to the fire. Ideally future Dig This! classes will uncover more of this ashy, dark soil and the data can be compiled to give a better understanding of how the fire destroyed the mansion house.
During the last week of the course, the students were busy washing their artifacts and picking a few to display at their end of the year exhibition. These artifacts included a locking mechanism, large nails, blue transfer print ceramics, a marble, a hinge, and a fork! All of the artifacts found during this summer’s course were transferred to the Peabody Institute to be cataloged and analyzed with the rest of the Mansion House artifacts.
Figure 7. Fork found in Excavation Unit 1Figure 8. Ceramic sherd found in unit 2.Figure 9. Locking mechanism found in unit 5.
Overall, the students had a great summer excavating the Mansion House and learning how to be archaeologists by following proper archaeological methods and recording techniques. I look forward to seeing what next summer’s Dig This class will find!
Hello, my name is Mike Agostino and I am a volunteer here at the Peabody Institute of Archeology. I am a recently retired scientist from the field of bioinformatics. My work in this field, for over 30 years, concerned the analysis of gene and protein sequences. I love the field so much that I am presently an instructor on the subject for the Harvard Extension School. I am also writing the second edition of a textbook I published on this topic more than 12 years ago.
Peabody volunteer, Mike, analyzes various projectile points in the Peabody collection.
As a resident of Andover, I frequently went past the Peabody and often wondered what treasures it held. When a good friend, Richard Davis, said he volunteered here and told me about the work, I immediately wanted to join him. To say this is a dream come true is not an exaggeration. I have always been interested in archaeology and spent many years looking down on the ground for the artifacts people said were all around us. But I never found any! To work with and learn about dozens, if not hundreds of specimens each day is amazing. As I hold these objects in my hands, I try to imagine their history: was it careful fabrication by an adult expert, or was it made during a learning period of a youngster? Was it used to bring home a meal, build a boat or dwelling, or for the creation of clothes? Did it come from local stone, or did it travel many miles to be found at a new locale? My imagination is further enhanced or tempered by the kind and knowledgeable staff of the Peabody who are training and patiently helping me identify what is in my hand. I have only been at the Peabody for less than two years and there is so much to learn!
After years as a scientist, I feel right at home with my principal responsibilities: the careful handling, description, cataloging, and storage of the specimens. Attention to detail is absolutely required and very satisfying. We record their identities, or best guesses because many are just fragments. The intact specimens are something to behold. Some arrowheads or axes are impossibly beautiful, and the precision of shaping and symmetry with such a hard material is just astounding. The skills of the people, past and present, are just amazing.
Peabody volunteers, Richard (left) and Mike (right), moving boxes for the Peabody’s building project.
I have also helped with activities associated with the huge renovation project of the building (for pictures and updates, see the blog postings by Marla Taylor). I am impressed with how everyone has remained calm considering hundreds of boxes, and specimens too large for boxes, had to be carefully moved up one or two floors from the basement to temporary locations elsewhere in the building. With the absence of an elevator, I helped move many boxes up the stairs out of harm’s way. My smart watch said I went up 80 flights of stairs one day! And I am only there one day a week, so the staff had a monumental challenge. We are now waiting for the renovations to be completed and then we will return the specimens to a much-improved setting. Even with the new elevator, reshelving hundreds of boxes won’t be easy, but I am looking forward to the project and the “new” institute.
At this year’s American Society for Eighteenth Century Studies (ASECS) conference, I had the opportunity to participate in the roundtable Teaching the Global Eighteenth Century. Phillips Academy instructor in history and social sciences Natalya Baldyga and I presented Assimilation, Acculturation, Catachresis, and Syncretism: Employing Archaeology to Foreground Indigenous Resistance in the Spanish Southwest, sharing our experiences teaching the Pueblo Revolt of 1680 to History 200 classes at the Academy.
Contemporary Indigenous artist Jason Garcia’s take on the Pueblo Revolt combines traditional materials and methods with graphic designs depicting Po’Pay, the architect of the revolt, as a comic book superhero. These two pieces are in the collection of the Robert S. Peabody Institute of Archaeology–you can see the vessel on the right in the inaugural exhibition of the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the American Latino.
If you are not familiar with the Pueblo Revolt, it is a pivotal moment in the history of the Southwest and the modern descendants of those who fought Spanish colonization at the end of the seventeenth century. Our abstract has a little more information on the Revolt and our approach:
Using the case study of the Pueblo Revolt of 1680, our presentation illustrates how archaeological artifacts can be employed to unsettle and decenter colonial narratives by refocusing the North American story of the early eighteenth century on Indigenous peoples of the Spanish Southwest. Too often, Anglophone histories associate the long eighteenth century in the Americas with English colonialism in general, and with the American Revolution in particular. We ask students to consider instead the “first American Revolution,” in which the Pueblo Peoples, led by the Tewa religious leader Po’pay, confronted missionaries and soldiers in the Spanish borderlands of what is now New Mexico. In our classes, students explore both artifacts from the Pueblo Revolt and contemporary Puebloan artistic responses to the historical event, foregrounding Indigenous resistance and survival over tales of erasure and domination. This approach both reorientates students’ understanding of colonial North American history towards wider global narratives of European expansion, and, perhaps more importantly, introduces students to multiple ways that Indigenous peoples adapted to, resisted, and overcame the efforts to erase their cultural identities and physical existence.
Drs. Wheeler and Baldyga also celebrated their anniversary during the conference.
The Peabody Institute has long offered various versions of a Pueblo Revolt lesson, but the current iteration has greatly benefitted from Dr. Baldyga’s experience and training. Together we’ve developed the lesson, typically delivered in the world history survey course for tenth grade, providing students with anthropological concepts, like assimilation and catachresis, that they can use in other settings, as well as foregrounding contemporary Indigenous perspectives and objects directly related to the Revolt. Conversations with other participants in the workshop were productive, especially in their pedagogical approach to topics like the production of sugar.
On February 15, 2023 we learned about the death of Raquel Welch. You might think, what does Raquel Welch have to do with archaeology? Well, a lot and a little. After her performance in the 1966 sci-fi film Fantastic Voyage Welch signed a contract with 20th Century Fox and was then “loaned” to Hammer films for One Million Years B.C., a low-budget cave-person movie. In One Million Welch played Loana, probably best remembered for her fur-trimmed bikini, battles against Ray Harryhausen’s Dynamation dinosaurs, and settling conflicts between the Rock and Shell tribes.
Raquel Welch as the out-sized heroine of One Million Years B.C. (1966).
I’ve always been a big fan of Ray Harryhausen’s stop-motion creature effects, including greats like The Valley of Gwangi (1969), 20 Million Miles to Earth (1957), The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958), Mysterious Island (1961), Jason and the Argonauts (1963), and many more. And yes, most archaeologists like dinosaurs, but cringe at the idea that archaeology has anything to do with them or that ancient humans ever even saw one—modern humans first appear around 300,000 years ago, about 65 million years after dinosaurs became extinct. A million years ago is solidly in the middle of the Pleistocene, a geological epoch that began around 2.5 million years ago. During the Pleistocene, we had lots of animals that you would recognize today—plenty of reptiles and birds and mammals—as well as megafauna like mastodons and mammoths, giant sloths, glyptodons, and more. We did have people, including Homo erectus.
One Million B.C. movie poster (1940).
So One Million Years B.C. gets a lot wrong. First, the idea of 1 million B.C. bugs me. B.C. means “before Christ,” though more people are moving to a version like BCE, which means “before the common or current era,” in other words the year 1 that our modern calendar has fixed as a starting point. So 1 million years B.C. is literally 1,000,000 years ago plus another 2,000 or so years. What’s 2,000 when we are talking millions?! I checked, and, perhaps not surprisingly, there were no scientific consultants on the film. Ray Harryhausen famously quipped that they weren’t making movies for scientists and doubted said scientists would go to see such films anyway (so wrong!). In her memoir, Raquel: Beyond the Cleavage, Welch talks about her own attempt to provide some notes to the film’s director Don Chaffey, but he wasn’t interested. What I didn’t know until recently, however, is that One Million Years B.C. is a remake of the 1940 film One Million B.C., which starred Victor Mature, Carole Landis, and Lon Chaney Jr. No Harryhausen effects there, however, there was a pig dressed in a Triceratops suit, lots of out-sized lizards, and even some animals more appropriate to the time like a woolly mammoth and an armadillo dressed as its megafauna ancestor Glyptodon.
This got me wondering what the earliest cave-people movie was, and led me to D.W. Griffith’s Man’s Genesis: A Psychological Comedy Founded on Darwin’s Theory of the Genesis of Man (1912). You can see some of the film on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQ3gaYbb38I. Griffith was involved in the production of the 1940 One Million, and all the films have some similar themes, namely conflict and sex. They don’t stop with the Raquel Welch version.
Peter Elliott is the go-to actor for non-human primates, including the titular role in 1988’s Missing Link.
One Million Years B.C. did pretty well at the box office, but it’s really just one film in a long line of cave-people movies. Both Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton made their versions, likely riffing on Man’s Genesis (Keaton invents golf in 1923’s Three Ages). A few years ago I challenged my Human Origins students to look at stereotypes about Neanderthals and they found the 1962 movie Eegah, which is sort of a mashup of 60’s beach party movies and the cave-people genre. The $15,000 budget may give you a sense of the film. Don Chaffey, the director of One Million Years B.C. revisited the genre in 1971 with Creatures the World Forgot (sans Raquel Welch, but with a very similar plot and movie poster!), and the 1980s has numerous entries with Ringo Starr’s comedy Caveman (1981), a defrosted Neanderthal in Iceman (1984), Rae Dawn Chong in Quest for Fire (1981), Daryl Hannah in The Clan of the Cave Bear (1986), based on the Jean M. Auel books, and even Peter Elliott (with narration by Michael Gambon) as the last Australopithecus in Missing Link (1988).
Ringo Starr and friends in 1981’s comedy Caveman.
Ringo Starr aside, Quest for Fire and The Clan of the Cave Bear are two of the best-known cave-people movies since Welch’s One Million. What’s interesting is that Quest was a box office success and garnered some critical acclaim, while Clan was a flop. Both lack dinosaurs, so that’s good. And, both explore a lot of the same themes that come up in these movies over and over—conflict between different species of humans, sex and love, and the role of technology in becoming human. Many of the critics noted that Quest had a lot of humor, either intended or not, and that’s perhaps part of the charm as film critic Roger Ebert noted. Archaeologists and anthropologists at the time were not so kind. Philip Leiberman, writing in the American Anthropologist, delivers a strident critique of the “primitive” languages developed by author Anthony Burgess for Quest, noting that, “Burgess just doesn’t seem to know anything about phonological studies, developmental studies of the acquisition of speech by children, psychoacoustic studies of speech perception,” etc. Owen Lovejoy, writing in Archaeology magazine, describes Quest as a disaster on several fronts, noting specifically that “critical human qualities such as kinship, economics, infant care, symbolism and religion, language, technology, and so on, are simply glossed over as though they appeared magically with the Upper Palaeolithic,” though he does appreciate the lack of dinosaurs. One important point that Lovejoy makes is that the film tries to be a serious attempt to depict the distant human past and that, perhaps, our inability as anthropologists to synthesize this for the public is what is lacking. Quest didn’t benefit from scientific advisors, beyond Burgess’s work to make the primitive languages and Desmond Morris’s work on animal behavior and vocalizations.
Rae Dawn Chong as Ika in Quest for Fire.
The cinema isn’t done with the cave-people genre yet. In 2008, 10,000 BC (again with the BC!) joined the ranks as a visually stunning epic that suffers from many past sins, including some serious anachronisms. I haven’t watched 10,000 BC, but it involves cave-people, Pleistocene fauna, as well as people riding horses and traveling in ships. The movie did pretty well at the box office. Reflecting on this genre of cave-people movies makes me realize that there is a lot of interest in the distant past, but, as Owen Lovejoy noted in his review of Quest for Fire, us anthropologists and archaeologist haven’t been so good at providing a compelling narrative. In fact, a lot of the interspecies conflict in these films can really be attributed to pervasive ideas in studies of human evolution that have emphasized different species based on very slight differences in skeletal anatomy. The more we learn, we find that Neanderthals and modern humans are very similar and shared genetics when they existed in the same place. Maybe Quest for Fire got that right? Godspeed Raquel.
Compare posters for Don Chaffey’s 1971 Creatures the World Forgot with the Raquel Welch classic One Million Years B.C., also directed by Chaffey for Hammer.
The Peabody 