For the last few years, any time someone would ask me “How is work going?” my answer was some variation of “So busy!” Of course, two huge building projects, a collections move, and transitioning to a new database – all in the past 5 years – has certainly kept me on my toes. However, I have also been working as a co-facilitator to create the Indigenous Collections Care (ICC) Guide.
The ICC Guide is the culmination of five years of collaboration to develop a resource for museums and other institutions to implement culturally appropriate care of Native and Indigenous collections.
I developed the concept for the Guide with my colleague Laura Bryant (Director of Repatriation at Gilcrease Museum in Tulsa, OK). We then created a working group of about twenty Indigenous and non-Indigenous museum professionals and academic, Tribal Historic Preservation Officers, and NAGPRA practitioners to discuss all aspects of collections stewardship. Together, we identified the need to establish a framework to help museums and other institutions engage in collections stewardship while prioritizing Indigenous needs and knowledge.
After many months of initial writing, we were fortunate to partner with the School for Advanced Research (SAR) in Santa Fe, NM. With their partnership, the ICC was awarded an IMLS National Leadership in Museums grant to support the development of the Guide and conduct nine content review sessions throughout the process. Those reviews brought over 120 additional voices into the process, including Tribal representatives and citizens, representing both federally and non-federally recognized Native Nations, as well as museum professionals.
The culmination of all this work can be found HERE. The ICC Guide centered Indigenous perspectives, cultural beliefs, and priorities while considering the realities of collections care across institutions with different resources, staffing, and capacity. While the Guide does not contain specific instructions, it does include case studies, sample resources, and tools that institutions can adapt to their own collections and scenarios.
Oh, and I almost forgot to mention the incredible artwork that became part of the final project! Many thanks to Neebinnaukzhik Southall (Chippewas of Rama First Nation) for their efforts as designer and illustrator. I love the illustrations and am sure that you will too.
While I am really proud to have facilitated this incredible project, I also need to thank everyone who was involved and supported the ICC Guide over the past five years. This project was a real lesson in collaboration and I appreciate everyone who shared their time, knowledge, and expertise.
In the fall of 2024, I reached out to Dr. Ryan Wheeler to learn more about the collection of Ancient Mediterranean artifacts that I knew were housed at the Peabody. I didn’t yet know the extent of what the collection contained, or what sort of project I might want to take on, but I knew I wanted to learn more, and that I wanted to help the Peabody learn more, too, by enhancing its catalog records. Dr. Wheeler shared with me a catalog of the objects that the Peabody houses, including a folder with all their photographs. After taking a quick look, I found myself drawn to this hydria:
Hydria (jug) housed at the Peabody Institute, 1989.984.4.2.
This is where I chose to focus my independent research. Initial identification of the Ancient Mediterranean collections at the Peabody was provided by Dr. Laure Marest, then a curator at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. She described 1989.984.4.2 as a “hydria (jug) with a man and a woman holding a dove above an omphalos”, made from red-figure ceramics, dating to the late 4th century BCE, and attributed to the Hellenistic period in the Campanian region. This served as my starting point, and the direction for my research: to learn more about this type of pottery, and to identify who this man and woman might be.
I began by researching the history and evolution of Hellenistic vessels (ceramic containers produced during the Hellenistic period, roughly from the late 4th to the 1st centuries B.C.E., used for practical, ritual, or decorative purposes), from proto-geometric and geometric techniques to black-figure and, finally, red-figure, the technique used for this artifact. Red-figure pottery eventually took precedence over black-figure because it allowed artists to leave figures in the clay’s natural red while painting the background black. Instead of laboriously incising details, artists could draw them more freely, making the technique better suited to naturalistic depictions of anatomy, garments, and emotion. I also researched the different types of Attic pottery, or pottery produced in the region of Attica, Greece, especially in Athens, which became a major center of Greek vase production. These forms included hydriai, lekythoi, amphorae, kraters, and many more. In doing so, I learned that a hydria is a three-handled water jar, typically with two horizontal handles for lifting and one vertical handle for pouring.
Understanding the broader historical and artistic context of the pot assisted my hypotheses of the figures’ identities. Since the woman on the right is holding a dove, I predicted that she was Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, whose sacred animal is the dove. After finding more vessels online with Aphrodite depicted and comparing them with the illustration on this pot, I was confident that the well-decorated lady with her hair tied in a bunch, open beaded cap, earrings, necklace, and bracelets was Aphrodite.
A closer view of the front of the hydria’s shoulder, with the now-identified Aphrodite.
Then came the most challenging part: identifying the man on the left of the hydria. At first glance, there was nothing symbolic about the figure, except that he stood casually beside Aphrodite, showing no sign of reverence typically expected toward a goddess, therefore implying that he may be a god himself. I searched online databases and museum collections for depictions of various gods on Attic pottery and for their characteristics. Then, I remembered, too, that Dr. Marest had described the large object in between Aphrodite and this man as an “omphalos.” Originating from the Ancient Greek word “ὀμφαλός,” meaning “navel,” an omphalos symbolizes the center of the world, glory, and birth and death in the Classical and Hellenistic periods. I later learned that the omphalos was also a marble monument discovered at Delphi, Greece, a religious sanctuary dedicated to Apollo.
Close up on the omphalos.
Thinking about the relationship between the omphalos and Apollo, the fact that fillets (decorative bands of cloth often used as religious offerings), which adorn the omphalos, were often offered by worshippers consulting Apollo’s oracle, and the laurel wreath commonly worn by the nude Apollo, I suspected that this man could be Apollo. After researching more vessels online with depictions of Apollo, I found various similarities in the iconography, such as Apollo holding a staff in a print at the British Museum.
A laurel wreath, a staff, and an omphalos with fillets.
I wrote up my findings for the Peabody Institute and created slides of my research to present my findings to others. After coordinating with Dr. Lainie Schultz (Peabody Institute), Dr. Elizabeth Meyer (Instructor, Phillips Academy Classics Department), and Dr. Paige Roberts (Director, Phillips Academy Archives and Special Collections), I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to present my findings in person at the “History Up Close” event on April 30th, open to the Phillips Academy campus. The excitement of this experience also came from learning from the audience, many of whom asked very thoughtful questions about not only the iconography on the hydria but also the iconology, which gave me clearer next steps for my research.
Selene presenting her research at the “History Up Close” event. Photo by Jessie Wallner.
Never would I have thought that I would have this amazing opportunity as a high schooler. I am also extremely grateful that this experience sparked my interest in archaeology, inspiring me to expand my research on Attic pottery even beyond the Peabody.
Hi, I’m Aaron Bai, and I’m an upper (11th grader) at Phillips Academy. I’ve always been interested in history and the humanities. As a child, I would spend hours in the school library reading books on mythology and history from cultures all around the world. As I grew older, I would read and even write about interesting topics in my free time, from the Garamantes during the Roman Empire to modern extremism in the Sahel. I have come to believe that only through studying human culture and society throughout its history can we better understand who we are and how we came to be. Though the present may differ considerably from the days of Lucius Cincinnatus or George Washington, for instance, their legacies and the similarities in the challenges and decisions we face make it such that uncovering their stories unmasks more of our own.
Following my interests, I chose to work at the Peabody for my work-duty requirement during my lower year (10th grade). This turned out to be a great decision— I had the rare opportunity to help organize, document, and analyze the Peabody’s vast collection of artifacts, from Neolithic stone tools to Native American ceramics. Working closely with these objects allowed me to engage directly with material history and learn the stories behind them in a unique and deeply meaningful way. This year, with work duty completed, I have continued to volunteer at the Peabody every week, helping research and document its collection of coinage from the Ancient Mediterranean, which serves as an amazing window into the societies and belief systems of the ancient world.
Given my interest in anthropology, I joined the Andover Anthropological Society last year, a student club here on campus, and later applied to take on a leadership position. Now serving as co-president of the club, I hope to raise awareness of this remarkable resource at our school and expand opportunities for students to engage with the Peabody and the collections there, whether through open houses, workshops, or research projects. It may even be worthwhile exploring engagement beyond the student body, such as inviting local schools to participate in open houses or lectures. In any case, I am very excited and look forward to working with the Peabody on these initiatives.
Aaron sharing his coin research with members of the Phillips Academy campus.
My name is Barrett Kim, and I’m an upper (11th grader) at Phillips Academy interested in biological sciences, though what draws me most isn’t exclusively the science, but the philosophical questions of how we got here.
I came across anthropology very spontaneously. A friend mentioned a research project through the Andover Anthropological Society, specifically exploring gender dynamics in Indigenous artifacts. Their hard work and insightful research immediately fascinated me. Around the same time, I was reading Orwell, Bradbury, and Salinger, writers who kept returning to the same warning: societies fail when they forget their own past. Anthropology felt like the applied, real-life version of the messages those books portrayed. If you want to understand where humans are going, you must understand where we’ve been. Anthropology turned out to be the perfect intersection of biology and sociology, two fields most people treat as completely separate.
Coming into Phillips Academy, I had no idea what anthropology was; however, after exploring the field and its importance, I felt like I had to help share what I learned. This desire to inspire others made me pursue a leadership role with the club and the Peabody Institute, not because I had everything figured out, but because I wanted to guide others into learning anthropology’s importance.
Looking ahead, I’m really excited to work with the Peabody. We have a professional archaeological institute on our campus, and most students walk right past it. Next year I want to help encourage students to use this valuable resource to explore our past and shape the understanding of our futures. Working with Aaron, we envision a place where genuine questions can be passionately explored, and where the work we do helps expand people’s worldviews.
Barrett (left) at a Peabody event organized by the Phillips Academy Biology Club.
My name is Jack Angelo and I am a board member and Blog Lead in Andover’s Anthropological Society, a student club we created here at Phillips Academy last year. I first became interested in Anthropology because of the many different topics it could cover, allowing someone to perform curiosity-based research about whatever subject matter interests them. When the other board members and I created the club, we knew most of our members’ research and curiosity would be directed towards our more major projects working in tandem with the Peabody Institute. But, understanding that the larger, focused research projects did not allow total intellectual freedom for the whole club, and that it did not spread our club’s messaging to the whole campus, we decided to create the Andover Anthropological Society Blog Site.
Our blog has now run for almost nine months and has served as an amazing display of the various topics our members are interested in, such as Corporate Consumerism in America, The Rise of Digital Tribalism, and the History of Art in Quarantine. Each post reflects what genuinely interests our writers, allowing people to contribute to the club without having to take part in our larger projects. In this way, the blog has developed into exactly the kind of free representational space we hoped for.
Additionally, the blog is a public source for anybody to read to understand our club’s messaging or to just further their interest in anthropology. We wanted to make sure that what we’re doing in AAS isn’t limited to the people who show up to meetings. By putting our work online, we’re giving the whole Andover community access to the topics we’re exploring and the research our members are doing. If someone’s curious about anthropology but doesn’t know where to start, or if they just want to read about a specific topic, the blog is there for them.
Ultimately, the AAS Blog is about making anthropology accessible. We wanted to create something that anyone could engage with, regardless of whether they’re in the club or have any background in the field. By keeping our work public and covering topics that connect to everyday life, we’ve built a resource that’s open to the entire Andover community.
I stumbled upon the Pecos bone flutes on a bright September afternoon that was supposed to be about beaver pelts and fur trade ledgers. My history class had followed Ms. Doheny to the Robert S. Peabody Institute for a lecture, but after the talk I lingered and asked the speaker, Dr. Lainie Schultz, whether the museum kept any musical instruments. That single question carried me into the archives, where Curator Marla Taylor opened a drawer and revealed two slender bones—one golden eagle, one hawk—pierced and polished, flutes waiting in perfect silence.
Music has framed my life since I was four in Madrid: first as a hobby, then as devotion, from my early passion for Romantic music to the shimmering modernism of Debussy, whose Masques I played at fifteen beneath the stone arches of Dubrovnik’s Rector’s Palace. Yet nothing in my previous musical experience had prepared me for the quiet authority of these flutes. Their accession records were almost empty, their makers unnamed, but the Tribal Historic Preservation Officer of Jemez Pueblo had granted permission for their study. Phillips Academy’s Abbot Independent Scholar program let me transform my curiosity into a full-term research project under the supervision of Dr. Schultz and Dr. Elizabeth Aureden from the music department.
The work began with patient looking. The eagle bone flute—just under twenty centimeters—bears four clean finger-holes; the hawk bone flute is shorter, its stops conical and ringed by three tiny oblique grooves. My initial efforts left me frustrated—despite my solid musical background, I couldn’t answer any of my research questions. Guided by Indigenous scholars, I began to understand the silence and endless questions as a wise teacher. By combining archival materials with present-day Indigenous resources, chiefly from Jemez musician Marlon Magdalena, I built a relationship with the eagle bone flute and experienced the music as something much deeper than pure sound.
In his song “Eagle’s Blessings,” which I shared during my presentation to the Massachusetts Archaeological Society in April, Marlon brings the flute to life. When I first heard it, I was nearing the end of my research, which had been mostly historical and archival. I had tried to learn about other Indigenous music, but this performance tied everything together. Throughout the term, I feared profaning the cultural or religious significance of the eagle bone flute. I understood its sacredness, and as a religious person involved in interfaith activities, I recognize the importance of respecting religious artifacts.
Marlon’s explanation before he played brought everything into focus. He explained that eagle bones are sacred, held only by tribal members and used to lift prayers skyward. When he played, I felt how, through his breath, he gave life back to the eagle and honored her. Suddenly, the silence became understandable. Even though I could not draw solid scientific conclusions, I forged a connection I will never forget.
This project has awakened a passion for ethnomusicology that I am now exploring with the music department, under the guidance of Ms. Ángela Varo-Moreno, studying the presence of LGBTQ+ subcultures in techno music. I would like to end by thanking everyone at the Peabody, at Phillips Academy Andover, and at Pecos and Jemez Pueblos—and other Indigenous communities—who have safeguarded the knowledge that reached me and made this project possible. It has been a gift I will always keep in my heart.
Alberto presenting his final project at the Peabody, finishing up his independent study.
Every Wednesday, I come to the Peabody Institute to be in the company of pharaohs and emperors, not through books but from 2000-year-old coins held in the institute’s collections. I help to identify these coins and record observations into the Peabody’s catalogue system. I’m extremely fortunate to experience “living history” from these remnants of ancient Rome, Hellenistic Egypt, and the Byzantine world.
As the mass media of the ancient world, coins carried big messages. The images depicting rulers, gods, animals, or symbols were carefully chosen and deeply meaningful. Every coin has a story to tell about culture and politics. Together, they offer new perspectives on historical events that we thought we already understood.
From my notes. Left: sketches and notes of a coin showing Rome’s foundation myth to commemorate Constantinople’s founding under Constantine (Rome reborn). Right: Roman coin minted in Egypt during Hadrian’s reign depicting the River Nile as a reclining deity.
I first became involved in this research when I met Dr. Elena Dugan, who teaches Religion and Philosophy at Phillips Academy Andover, and was researching Jewish coins that dated back 2,000 years. These coins were struck for only four years, 66-70 CE, during which time, the Jewish population in modern-day Israel rebelled against their Roman occupiers. Long after their war against the Romans and their eventual defeat, their cry of freedom endured as inscriptions on these coins, surpassing even the Romans themselves. Dr. Dugan quite literally held the legacies of these men and women in her hands. How extraordinary is that!
Top: Coins with inscriptions calling for the “Freedom of Zion,” along with coins minted during the times of King Herod Agrippa I and Yehonatan the High Priest. Bottom: Biblical coins of Pontius Pilate and Emperor Tiberius.
I would soon uncover such stories myself. Through Byzantine coins within the Peabody’s collections, I came to appreciate the story of Justinian, a Roman emperor bold enough to dream big. He dreamed of restoring the Roman Empire, which by his time was territorially less than half of its former glory. He dreamed of a reunified Mediterranean and the spread of Christianity. Fueled by determination, he led years of campaigns until the city of Rome was once again truly part of the empire.
But the dream didn’t last. Enemies in the East drew his attention away from Rome and the West, which was soon lost again. Any last hope was swept away by a devastating plague, which killed half of the Roman population (now every time I pick up one of Justinian’s coins, I feel an urge to wash my hands!). Rome’s wealth was drained, and Justinian lost his new territories as quickly as he gained them. In the end, he sadly died believing his dream had failed.
But it hadn’t. Though Justinian didn’t expand Rome’s borders, he redefined her identity. His image on coins, boldly facing his audience and clad in armor, was copied by every emperor who followed. He had inspired others to dream. Alongside his portrait appeared Christian symbols, marking Rome’s turn from her pagan past toward new ideals. Never again would she reach the heights Justinian had brought her to.
If all that remains of him and his dream are coins and a few lines in a textbook, then so be it. But let’s not forget them!
Left: Emperor Anastasius depicted in traditional imperial dress with a diadem and toga. Right: Depiction of Emperor Justinian facing the audience, fully in armor, and holding the globe and cross. While Anastasius followed strong traditions, Justinian was more than eager to distinguish himself.
This experience has strengthened my love for history. It has brought me closer to people in the distant past and their values. Their love of liberty. Their audacity to dream. These values stir a certain nostalgia in me, and suddenly, these people don’t feel so distant after all. Their worlds may have disappeared, but they are far from forgotten. It’s hard to believe that such an experience can come from objects that measure less than my pinky finger. But, after all, conveying messages is also a coin’s purpose, alongside economic ones.
This journey has truly expanded my curiosity and built my understanding of history. I’m incredibly grateful to the Peabody Institute for not only allowing an inexperienced ninth grader to interact with these priceless artifacts but also for patiently teaching me the research process, providing the right tools, and encouraging me to share my story.
What a highlight this has been as part of my school year! I’ll be sure to return on many more Wednesdays!
Last spring, I was new to Phillips Academy. I’d just arrived on campus, still figuring out where I fit in, still mapping the place out in my head. One thing that kept catching my eye was this mysterious building I passed every week on my way to the music department. It looked… important. But quiet. Tucked away. That building was the Peabody Institute.
It was mid-renovation then and closed to visitors, but every time I walked by, I’d find myself wondering what was inside. What kind of objects were hidden away behind those walls? What kind of people once used them? It sent me spiraling in the best way.
I started doing some research and realized that while the Peabody is this incredible institution with a deep collection of cultural material, it wasn’t very connected to student life. Almost hidden in plain sight. And that just felt like a missed opportunity. I wanted to find a way to change that.
This idea took deeper root over the summer, especially after I visited Egypt. I’ve always been interested in anthropology, but that trip sparked something new in me: an obsession with archaeology. There’s something magical about holding, or even just seeing, an artifact that someone used hundreds of years ago. Imagining their life, their world, their hopes or rituals. In those moments, I feel connected to something bigger: a lineage of humans that came before and will come after. It feels like time folds in on itself.
So I reached out to the Peabody over the summer and asked if there was a way students could get more involved. We came up with the idea for a club, and when I returned to campus in the fall, I asked my friend Elliot Weir to help me lead it. That’s how the Andover Anthropological Society was born.
But the story doesn’t really start there. My fascination with culture and human behavior goes way back. I grew up in a family of nomads—the product of two people who seemed to be in constant motion. I’m an Armenian New Yorker, but I moved to Hong Kong when I was young, then to Miami, and spent years bouncing between Brazil, Europe, and the U.S. These days, my dad is based in Riyadh, so Saudi Arabia feels like another kind of home.
All this movement, this third culture existence, has taught me that “home” isn’t always a place. It’s a mindset, a perspective, a lens you carry with you. It’s made me deeply curious about how people live, how they think, and how history shapes identity. Whether it’s thinking about how Armenians process collective trauma, or how gender roles are shifting in Saudi Arabia, I’m drawn to the stories that sit under the surface. Anthropology, to me, is a way of making sense of it all.
And that’s what the Andover Anthropological Society is about. Yes, we work with artifacts. Yes, we meet weekly at the Peabody and dig into real collections and archival files. But more than anything, we’re trying to connect—to the past, to different worldviews, and to each other.
If you’re someone who finds joy in questioning things, in imagining the lives behind the objects, or in just getting a little lost in the mysteries of human culture, you’re always welcome. The Peabody may have looked quiet last spring, but it’s anything but.
Mortuary Temple of HatshepsutValley of the Kings
The Temple of EdfuTemple of Nefertari
Why some of our members joined:
“I decided to join the Andover Anthropological Society because studying anthropology yields a greater understanding of yourself and the world around you. In the same way that books can inform you on lives you’ve never lived, anthropology enables you to understand cultures you have never interacted with, providing perspective on your own culture and appreciation for others’.” – A.J. McQuide ‘26
“I am a junior [9th grader] from Miami, and I joined the Anthropological Society because I am interested in learning and understanding how human societies and cultures develop. I was inspired to join this club by my visit to my country-of-origin, Armenia. In Armenia, I traveled across the country visiting and seeing historical landmarks and ancient artifacts. This visit sparked a desire to understand what role these places and items played in my ancestors’ lives as well as other peoples’.” – Sebastian Djerejian ‘28
“I am an upper [11th grader] from North Andover. I knew that the Peabody was an amazing resource with many Native American artifacts that I had never seen before. I wanted to explore these collections through the Andover Anthropological Society.” – Elliot Weir ‘26
“In middle school we had a guest speaker come in to talk about how humans developed technologically, and to me that was such an interesting idea. How did we discover so much of what we know? So, for a long time, I have been interested in anthropology but hadn’t had any spaces to pursue it, which is why I was happy to join the anthropology club here at Andover.” – David Frahm ‘26
“I am a new upper [11th grader] from Verona, Italy. I joined the Anthropology club because I wanted to develop skills to be able to identify artifacts more efficiently. I’m especially interested in exploring how specific objects were used differently across the United States, and what they can reveal about the daily lives of the people who made and used them.” – Amelie Piergentili ‘26
“I am an upper [11th grader] from London, UK, and I am thrilled to say that I am a part of Andover Anthropology club. I frequently looked at the Peabody Museum as an incredible resource that I longed to explore – Anthropological Society gave this to me.” – Isabella Mazzi ‘26
“I am an upper from London, England and was always interested in History and discovering how we got to where we are now. I love connecting with different cultures and meeting new people interested in the same things I am so the Anthropology club offered an incredible way to do just this.” – Katerina Browder ‘26
Among the newest student clubs on offer to the Phillips Academy community as of this term is the Andover Anthropological Society: a group of students of superior intelligence who recognized ahead of their peers that doing research with cultural materials is incredibly fun, and an excellent use of one’s free time.
Now with a membership of ten, club members selected as their inaugural project an accession of Arctic materials surface-collected by Patricia Hume near Utqiagvik (previously Barrow), Alaska during six summers between 1959-1969, and donated to the Peabody Institute in 1998. Meeting weekly at the Peabody, so far the AAS has received collections handling training and begun to build direct experience doing close-looking analysis of cultural materials; perused the Pat Hume accession file and visited storage, doing archival research AND learning some basics of museum practice (I’m very efficient); learned about the Bureau of American Ethnology and delved into 20th century ethnographies from the region (thank you, OWHL reference librarians!); and started to explore various themes and approaches for their group project. These have included connecting collections to Iñupiaq language, exploring notions of gender and household structures, and questioning anthropological terms like “effigy” to build more robust interpretations of people’s material expressions of spirituality and religion – just to name a few.
AAS members closely examining “household” items from the Pat Hume accession and debating whether I was messing with them in my claims for what they were. [Not pictured: all the female members of the club. I promise it was just unlucky they had to leave before I could take any photos…]
Whichever direction(s) the club ends up taking, what they learn will enter into the Peabody’s database, enhancing our own understandings of these collections here and the ways in which we’ll be able to connect others to them in the future.
I happen to have the privilege of serving as faculty advisor for this club, and it has been a joy getting to know these students, and having them teach me about Iñupiat culture. Bookmark this blog and stay tuned to learn more about the AAS from the AAS itself!
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.
It is finally happening – the Peabody Institute building project is underway!
It has been quite a whirlwind preparing for this project over the past months (planning began in earnest about a year ago).
Since my last update, the full collection has been relocated within the building, asbestos has been remediated, the old storage bays have been demolished, and staff transitioned to working at small folding tables. We made the move to our temporary office space on-campus and are beginning to settle in.
So much credit goes to the Peabody staff members (and past interns) who collaborated to facilitate keeping the collection safe and organized during this process – thank you all!
We will keep you updated on progress as we are able.
This project will rely on philanthropic support from our donor community. To help advance this critical renovation, please contact Beth Parsons, director for museums and educational outreach, at 978-749-4523 or bparsons@andover.edu.
The Peabody 