Two months ago, I wrote about the process of moving the collection in advance of renovations to our building’s basement and moving it back after renovations were complete. In this blog, I thought I could briefly cover how we organized the collections when we moved back in.
Before embarking on any large-scale collections-based project it is a good idea to know what comprises the collection. As noted in the moving blog, the seeds of the renovation started with the 2017-2021 inventory and rehousing project. Understanding the size, weight, and material of the collection was instrumental for us to plan where it would all go. It also helped us select the appropriate type of furniture to best suit the items’ individual storage needs.
Quantify the collection
We worked with a design team from the storage furniture company we contracted to help us make the most of the space we had available. The designers needed to know how much space was required to house the items we steward. Thinking of the future, the figures we gave them included room for growth. We hoped we wouldn’t be at capacity as soon as the renovation was completed.
The dimensions for items held in standard sized boxes was straightforward. We provided more detailed dimensions of the large items and boxes. Shelving for these items would need to be more strictly planned to accommodate individual item and box dimensions.
Capacity, layout and review
The building renovation contractors provided the storage furniture design team with precise room dimensions that included height restrictions required by lighting, HVAC, electrical, and fire suppression systems.
Based on our needs and the space available, the design team gave us a series of shelving layouts. We double checked the dimensions of shelving- length, depth and shelf heights- to ensure that the collections could fit. The design team and our collections team went through several drafts before we came to a finalized layout.
Organization
Once we knew the basement’s storage capacity, we set about creating an organizing principle for the collection. Collections in each space were organized by region. Unboxed items were organized first by type, followed by region. Space on fixed shelves was reserved for items at risk of rolling off mobile shelving.
Future
We’ve been living with the renovation for several months now and are very happy with the results. We have contemplated making a change to the organizational structure of the standard-sized archival boxes. In the future we may organize collections by site or collection area within their broader region. Understanding the scope of this project will require data manipulation to better understand. It may mean moving items between boxes, in which case we’d have to weigh the benefits against the resources required to see an organizational schema such as this carried out.
Mia Toya’s melon swirl vessel with distinctive butterfly lid. I particularly like the creamy slip, which sets this piece apart from others in the Peabody collections.
Early this fall–just after Santa Fe Indian Market–we were fortunate to add to the Peabody Institute collections this lovely melon swirl vessel by Mia Toya (Pueblo of Jemez). Mia and her family have a long relationship with the Peabody and Phillips Academy, regularly coming to campus to conduct week-long workshops on Pueblo pottery making with students in Thayer Zaeder’s studio ceramics classes.
Mia helps a student perfect their piece in Thayer Zaeder’s campus ceramics studio, May 2024.
Mia is a member of the Corn Clan and was inspired to continue the long lived tradition of working with clay from many members of her family who are well known artists, including her mom Maxine, grandmother Marie G. Romero, aunt Laura Gachupin, and her sister Dominique. Mia began working with clay at the age of 14 and continues to add her unique style of art to this day, constructing pieces using hand coiling methods, stone polished slips, and figural elements like her distinctive butterfly lids.
Mia’s piece (far left) joins other Toya Family creations in the Peabody Institute collections, including collaborations between Dominique and Maxine Toya, Maxine’s storyteller and owl figures, Dominique’s distinctive micaceous swirl vessels, and a piece by Mia’s grandmother Marie G. Romero (second from the left).
Watching Mia work with students, its not surprising that in addition to being an accomplished artist, she’s also an educator. Mia teaches second grade at Jemez Day School. A Bureau of Indian Education social media post from 2016 includes a quote from Mia, reflecting on becoming a National Board Certified teacher, “I always knew I wanted to teach in this school–to serve the kids in my community and be one of their role models. Being a National Board Certified teacher helps me give my best to my students, community, and Tribe every day.”
What do, parfleche, ceramics, paintings, and basketry all have in common? They are all currently on display at the Addison Gallery of American Art here at Phillips Academy as part of the Kay WalkingStick/Hudson River School exhibition.
Kay WalkingStick (Cherokee) is a contemporary artist and educator known for her landscape paintings. This exhibition originated at the New-York Historical Society and has been joined by over a dozen pieces from the Addison’s permanent collection as well as three from the Peabody Institute.
In another wonderful collaboration with the Addison Gallery, the Peabody loaned two Mohican culture baskets and a vessel made by Wampanoag artist Ramona Peters to be placed in dialogue with Kay’s work. The items were thoughtfully selected and contribute to an intentional conversation between traditional painting techniques and Indigenous art.
We really appreciate the opportunity to collaborate with the Addison and highlight pieces from the Peabody Institute. Check it out if you are in the area!
Kay WalkingStick, Durand’s Homage to the Mohawks, 2021. Oil on panel. Colby College Museum of Art, Waterville, Maine; The Lunder Collection. Photo by JSP Art Photography. Copyright Kay WalkingStick
The change in season brings a time for storytelling and passing down traditions. The winter months are a prime time for sharing scary stories due to colder weather keeping people inside and gathered together.
In honor of Indigenous Peoples’ Day (October 14) and upcoming National Native American Heritage Month (November), we’re highlighting some folklore inspired by the Indigenous dark fiction anthology, Never Whistle at Night. This book is comprised of 26 short stories that explore aspects of Indigenous horror, beliefs, traditions, and folklore. These stories are told by a variety of Indigenous authors (see complete list below), edited by Shane Hawk(Cheyenne & Arapaho Tribes of Oklahoma) and Theodore C. Van Alst Jr. (Mackinac Bands of Chippewa and Ottawa Indians), and introduced by Stephen Graham Jones (Blackfeet Nation).
Carson Faust(Edisto Natchez-Kusso Tribe of South Carolina)
Kelli Jo Ford(Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma)
Kate Hart(Chickasaw/Choctaw in Arkansas)
Shane Hawk(Cheyenne & Arapaho Tribes of Oklahoma)
Brandon Hobson(Cherokee Nation Tribe of Oklahoma)
Darcie Little Badger(Lipan Apache Tribe of Texas)
Conley Lyons(Comanche)
Nick Medina(Tunica-Biloxi Tribe of Louisiana)
Tiffany Morris(Mi’kmaw)
Tommy Orange(Cheyenne and Arapaho Tribes of Oklahoma)
Mona Susan Power (Standing Rock Sioux Tribe)
Marcie R. Rendon (White Earth Band of the Minnesota Chippewa Tribe)
Waubgeshig Rice (Wasauksing First Nation)
Rebecca Roanhorse (Navajo Nation)
Andrea L. Rogers (Cherokee Nation)
Morgan Talty (Penobscot Indian Nation)
D.H. Trujillo (Pueblo)
Theodore C. Van Alst Jr. (Mackinac Bands of Chippewa and Ottawa Indians)
Richard Van Camp (Dene Nation)
David Heska Wanbli Weiden (Lakota)
Royce Young Wolf (Hiraacá, Nu’eta, and Sosore, ancestral Apsáalooke and Nʉmʉnʉʉ)
Mathilda Zeller (Inuit)
The title of the anthology refers to a belief common in many Indigenous cultures that whistling at night can attract malevolent entities. The act of night whistling is forbidden by many Native American cultures due to a shape-shifting entity, known as a “Skinwalker” or “Stekini” that responds to the call, causing harm to those who encounter it.
Skinwalker – Image courtesy of DoubleOurEfforts/reddit
Native cultures use storytelling to pass down knowledge and history, including folklore. Scary stories often carry deeper meanings, serving as lessons and warnings. Some of my favorite stories from this book were: Kushtuka, Quantum, Snakes are Born in the Dark, Before I Go, and Dead Owls.
Several stories in the book share a common subject – the owl. Interpretations of owls can be found across different Native American tribes, with some viewing owls more negatively than others. There are several items in the Peabody collection that highlight the owl form, their meanings varying significantly between different Indigenous cultures and locations. Here are just a few for you to explore!
Owls are often associated with death and the spirit world, seen as messengers or harbingers of bad luck reflected in their nocturnal habits. Seeing an owl, particularly during the day can be a sign of death or misfortune. Some tribes consider owls as spirits of the deceased or that they might not be real birds at all, but shapeshifters. The sound of an owl’s hoot is seen as a call to the spirit world or a way to connect with ancestors.
Owl Effigy (2018.2.1266) – Fragment of an owl effigy from the Valley of Mexico. Warren K. Moorehead compared this item to clay effigies from the Etowah village site in his 1932 book Etowah Papers: Exploration of the Etowah Site in Georgia.
Owl Effigy (2018.2.1266), Peabody Collections
Folklore of the Valley of Mexico believe in a witch known as “La Lechuza” who shapeshifts in the form of an owl that preys on people who are disobedient, unbaptized, or who harm others. Check out this episode on La Lechuza from the podcast, History Uncovered.
Owl Effigy Slingshot (97.1.53) – From the Ixil Maya community in Chajul, El Quiché, Guatemala. Used by men and boys to hunt birds, though it is common to hunt with a blowgun.
Other tribal beliefs revere owls as symbols of wisdom and intuition, as well as carriers of ancient knowledge and protection.
Ceramic Owl Figurine (2017.6.1) – Ceramic piece by Maxine Toya from the Pueblo of Jemez, New Mexico. In Pueblo culture, owls are seen as protectors. The ceramic owl design is built by stacking and smoothing hand coils of clay. The piece is both carved and painted, the feathers on the front being carved into the clay. Painted designs are intricate using symbols of rain, clouds, and feathers. These designs are all matte and painted with clay slips with only the eyes being polished.
Maxine Toya is well known for her figurative pottery (the first piece of pottery Maxine created was an owl!) Maxine is one of several pottery artists from the Pueblo of Jemez that visit Phillips Academy campus each spring to work with students in ceramic classes. You can read more about these visits here and here!
Ceramic Owl Effigy Jar (90.4.2) – Globular body in black on white design with vessel opening located at owl beak. Owl facial features at neck, wings at sides and tail at back. The globular shape is the most recognizable characteristic of pottery from Cochiti Pueblo, New Mexico.
Ceramic Owl Effigy Jar (90.4.2), Peabody Collections
Owls are featured in Cochiti Pueblo pottery, often associated with the god of death and spirit of fertility, Skeleton Man.
Exciting News! – Never Whistle at Night, Part II: Back for Blood is currently accepting submissions from emerging Indigenous writers. This is the second book in the Never Whistle at Night series.
The Society of American Indians, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, February 14, 1914. The Quarterly Journal of the Society of American Indians, Volume 2, 1914.
On the weekend before Columbus Day in Columbus, Ohio, 1911, a group of Native American leaders and activists joined together to attend what became the first annual meeting of the Society of American Indians, or SAI. For the next thirteen years, this pioneering Pan-Indian organization was a center for Native American political advocacy, lobbying Congress and the then-Office (now Bureau) of Indian Affairs; offering legal assistance to Native individuals and tribes; publishing a quarterly journal; and corresponding extensively with Native Americans, “Friends of the Indian” reformers, political allies, and critics across the country.
Members of the SAI were a veritable “who’s who” of early twentieth century Native history, representing activists, clergy, entertainers, professionals, speakers, and writers, from communities both on- and off-reservation. To namedrop just a few, these included (but were by no means limited to): attorney Marie Louise Bottineau Baldwin (Métis/Turtle Mountain Chippewa/French); musician and writer Gertrude Simmons Bonnin (Yankton Dakota); educator Henry Roe Cloud (Winnebago); Episcopal priest Sherman Coolidge (Arapaho); civil servant Charles Dagenett (Peoria); painter and illustrator Angel De Cora (Winnebago); Episcopal priest Philip Joseph Deloria (Yankton Dakota); physician Charles Eastman (Dakota); author and linguist Laura Cornelius Kellogg (Oneida); ethnologist Francis La Flesche (Omaha); physician Carlos Montezuma (Yavapai Apache); writer, editor, and journalist John M. Oskison (Cherokee); archaeologist Arthur C. Parker (Seneca); lawyer Thomas Sloan (Osage); and advocate Henry Standing Bear (Lakota).
Without sharing a singular vision of Native American identity, tribal self-determination, or what the place of Native Americans should be within US society, these individuals committed themselves to a shared purpose, striving firstly “To promote the good citizenship of the Indians of this country, to help in all progressive movements to this end, and to emulate the sturdy characteristics of the North American Indian, especially his honesty and patriotism.” Seeking to benefit the freedom and development of all Native Americans, the two primary platforms on which the SAI stood were U.S. birthright citizenship for Native Americans and tribal access to the U.S. Court of Claims, addressing the two major issues at the forefront of public debates on the “Indian problem” at the time – the ambiguity of Native American legal status and the Office of Indian Affair’s mismanagement of Native lands and resources.
The investment of people’s time and unpaid labor in the work of the Society and its journal was extraordinary but ultimately unsustainable, and the SAI dissolved in 1923. Disappointingly, it had achieved neither of its major goals. Congress passed the Indian Citizenship Act in 1924, granting birthright citizenship to Native Americans but maintaining their wardship status. The Indian Claims Commission took over twenty more years to come, in 1946, allowing tribes to bring claims against the US government through judicial arbitration, not a court, and successful claims could result only in monetary compensation, not regained lands. The SAI also could not succeed in delivering a unified expression of Native American opinion to the government and public – probably the most unrealistic aim of all.
Despite its “failures,” the Society of American Indians was the first organization of its kind, created by Native Americans to amplify a Native American voice across the country during a time when people’s lives were under siege and they battled to have their voices heard on multiple issues. It may not have lasted long, but the SAI left a legacy of political, legal, and intellectual activism, setting the course for the many Native professional organizations to follow, and standing as part of an ever-present, ongoing continuum of Native Americans advocating for their best interests; joining in the debate as to what that might look like or how to get there; and striving to build better, stronger, and healthier relationships with the rest of the nation.
Maybe consensus is less important than joining in the conversation. Whether you are celebrating Columbus Day, commemorating Indigenous Peoples’ Day, or just slogging through another Monday – that door is always open.
The Society of American Indians, 5th Annual Conference, on the steps of Engineering Hall, Kansas University, October 1, 1915. The Quarterly Journal of the Society of American Indians, Volume 3, 1915.
In January 2024 renovations to our collection housing were completed, finalizing a process that started in March 2023. To accommodate the demolition of existing shelving and installation of new condensing metal shelving, the collection was moved out of the basement in early 2023. With the project completed and several months of living with the move behind us, this seems like a good time for a brief recap. Perhaps some of our planning can help other institutions that have a collection move on the horizon.
During initial planning for the renovation, we faced two scenarios for moving the collection. The first was to move the collection offsite. The second, involved keeping the collection onsite within portions of the building that were not renovated. We needed to make viable plans for both options while decisions about construction phases and timelines were being made.
We identified several challenges to moving the collection offsite. Some of the largest hurdles included the high cost of offsite storage, the massive time commitment required for packing the collection for an offsite move and conducting a post-move inventory and condition reporting of the collection. A second round of inventory and condition reporting would need to be done after the collection was moved back into the building.
Keeping the collection onsite raised other concerns. Temporary housing would need to be big enough to house the collection. We would only be allowed in the building during designated windows when it was safe for us to enter, therefore the temporary housing area would need to be locked and monitored by cameras. The space would need to be environmentally controlled to the best of our ability. We also contemplated whether construction could lead to a catastrophic accident that would damage the building and collection.
The benefits and challenges of each scenario were taken into consideration within the larger framework of the construction plan. Ultimately, it was decided to keep the collection onsite in temporary housing. Although it came with some complications, it resulted in huge savings and a greater degree of control over the moving process when compared to moving the collection off-site.
Inventory and rehouse
The move started with an inventory and rehousing project that was carried out between 2017 and 2021. The project has been covered in previous blog posts. To summarize, Peabody staff conducted a 100% inventory of collections housed in aging wooden drawers in our basement. The inventory collected basic information; a description, count and provenience. Once inventoried, the items were rehoused in archival boxes with lids. While the wooden storage bays didn’t allow for stacking, future storage could take advantage of the ability to stack boxes.
The archival boxes were about half the size of the wooden drawers. Boxes were therefore much lighter and in most cases two boxes existed where previously there was one drawer.
Barcode and Weigh
During the planning onsite and offsite moves, we identified the first floor as the likeliest location for temporary housing if we were moving the collection inside the building. We knew the collection was heavy, but in the basement the collective weight of the collection was never a concern. Now, the ability of the building to hold the weight of the collection boxes was an important question that needed to be answered.
Equally important was how we would maintain physical control (i.e. knowing where everything in the collection is) over the collection boxes and their contents. This portion of the collection comprises nearly 3,000 boxes containing roughly 500,000 items. It was necessary to come up with an efficient way of tracking each item’s movement. Updating records at the item level within our existing database would take an incredible amount of time. Our database at the time supported barcodes at the item level, a process that would be no different than updating each item individually. We decided to assign barcodes to each box and track the box locations using a separate barcode tracking program (Orca Scan).
Over the summer of 2020, with the help of two great interns the collection was weighed and barcoded. The barcode data included the original location within the wooden storage (home location), weight, how many spaces the box would occupy in temporary housing, and any additional notes.
Results
Armed with the weight data, we were able to organize the collection so that the weight was equally distributed over the entirety of the first floor. This information also helped us organize the collection in the newly renovated basement. Now, heavy boxes are located on shelves at waist height, making for safer lifting. Lighter boxes are housed on higher and lower shelves.
Tracking box locations with barcodes worked well for the most part and was a net positive over tracking individual item locations. A 5% inventory of barcodes after the move resulted in no errors. However, errors have been found in the system since we moved the collection back into the basement. These have resulted from location errors entered into the database, as well as errors and inconsistencies entered into Orca Scan. I would recommend checking for inconsistencies in the original location data before making the move.
Using the barcode program in addition to the database to find items on the fly was time consuming, but not unreasonable. Tracking movement has been more challenging. Some movements were simple, like moving a box from one location to another. Other moves involved unpacking dense boxes and giving the removed items their own barcodes or emptying an entire box, deleting the barcode, and giving each unpacked item a new barcode. Processing so much data has required the use of formulas in Excel, and it is hard to find and analyze errors when looking at 115,000 item records.
That wraps up this brief summary of our experience moving the collection. It was the culmination of years of planning and months of preparing and implementing. I’m happy to report that 600,000 items moved one or more times up and down one or two flights of stairs resulted in nothing being damaged. Hopefully some of the issues we encountered can help inform other institutions researching a move.
Hi, all. My name is Lainie Schultz, and I am the brand-new Curator of Education here at the Robert S. Peabody Institute of Archaeology. I come to this position from the George Peabody Museum of Anthropology (aka the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, or PMAE), where I was previously the Head of Teaching and Learning. It is also where my career in museums began, as an undergrad looking for a federal work-study position. At the time I just thought it would be a relatively painless way to make some money, but it turned out I genuinely cared about museums and the relationships they build with descendant communities. Who would have guessed?
This led me to graduate school in anthropology, and a few more museum stops along the way. In between stints at the PMAE I was introduced to the culture of morning and afternoon tea in the Repatriation Unit of the National Museum of Australia (sometimes the tea is coffee); was thrown into the world of First Nations humor during consultation visits at the Museum of Anthropology at the University of British Columbia (do you know how to pronounce Kwakwaka’wakw? Gitxaała? just bragging…); learned to throw a returning boomerang at Muru Mittigar Aboriginal Cultural and Education Centre (key word “throw.” darned thing never returned); pretended along with the Cultural Collections and Community Engagement section of the Australian Museum that our already well-worn office demountables were only “temporary” (humor came in handy there, too); marveled like the nerd I am at the Berndt Museum of Anthropology’s catalogue records (THEY ARE. SO. COMPLETE.); and stayed with family I didn’t know I had before while at Bunjilaka Aboriginal Cultural Centre (that had nothing to do with the cultural center, but it really meant a lot to me).
I don’t know what new experiences the RSPI will be throwing at me, but I am ready for it all.
A four-year-old Mi’kmaq girl goes missing from the blueberry fields of Maine, sparking a tragic mystery that haunts the survivors, unravels a community, and remains unsolved for nearly fifty years.
The Berry Pickers is a heartbreaking, riveting tale of Indigenous family separation. We follow an Indigenous Mi’kmaq family in Nova Scotia who travels every summer to Maine to pick blueberries as migrant workers. In the summer of 1962, 4-year-old Ruthie, the youngest of the family’s five children, disappears from the fields. The last to see her is the second youngest, 6-year-old Joe, who takes the loss especially hard and carries his guilt in the years to come.
The book is told through two alternating character perspectives – one being Ruthie’s brother Joe and the second being a young girl named Norma. Growing up in Maine as the only child of affluent and overprotective parents, Norma, struggles to find the truth behind her recurring dreams and visions (that seem more like memories than imagination). As time and secrets unfold, these two storylines ultimately converge.
This is a treasure of a book – filled with loss and sadness yet manages to be hopeful as well. Amanda Peters (Mi’kmaq, Glooscap First Nation) has a lot of empathy for her characters and gently invites readers to examine the affects of intergenerational trauma, racist residential institutions, and the specific ways Indigenous families were treated – in a deeply personal way.
This story is both powerful and moving. Although told quietly, it did not take away from its impact.
Next on my list to read is Amanda Peter’s newest book, Waiting for the Long Night Moon: Stories. This is her debut collection of short fiction that describes Indigenous experiences across time and space – from contact with European settlers, to the forced removal of Indigenous children, to the present-day fight for the right to clean water.
The book will be available August 2024 in Canada and January 2024 in the U.S.
As Phillips Academy’s Lower School Institute (LSI) Dig This! course comes to the end of its seventh field season, students and instructors are so excited to share stories of the many artifacts they discovered at the school’s very own excavation site. At the start of the 2024 season, students were introduced to the story of the Mansion House, an eighteenth century home which belonged to the founder of the academy, and now lies buried underneath the lawn of the West Quad on Phillips Academy campus. The Mansion House stood on the property for 105 years before being burned down through an act of arson, which was never solved or prosecuted. The remains of the house laid just centimeters underneath the surface of the quad for a little over 100 years before LSI’s summer session course began the long process of meticulously digging it up.
After being introduced to the legacy of the Mansion House and its past excavations, the 2024 archaeology crew set out to build upon this research by investigating parts of the site which have never been previously tested. Specifically, six teams were each assigned a 1 X 1 meter unit and asked to investigate a given region of the West Quad, whether it be just outside of the Mansion House walls, in the area suspected to hold a nineteenth century privy, or the very place where a neighboring nineteenth century printing house was known to have stood. Equipped with shovels, trowels, and screens, the six teams got to work and all quickly began to gather archaeological data.
While no team this summer unearthed ash layers relating to the infamous 1887 fire, which resulted in the destruction of the Mansion House, several groups discovered an abundance of charcoal and burned brick. Additionally, the two groups assigned to dig in the hypothesized privy, EU 2404+2405, uncovered a plethora of cultural materials, including a button, many ceramic shards, and faunal bones. Specifically, a small black glass button, which was unearthed in EU2405, became of great interest to the students. Because black glass beads were only in fashion during the ten-year period when England’s Queen Victoria was in mourning, the button students found can be dated to that decade between 1861 to 1870. How exciting!
Students stationed in the area believed to be where the nineteenth century printing house once stood uncovered a considerable amount of leather. It is unknown if this leather came from shoes or book bindings, however the find itself is incredible given how well the material preserved over time!
Despite the fact that the 2024 Dig This! crew did not uncover any features relating to the Mansion House, privy, or printing house, students still reveled in the amount of cultural material found and were very excited to show it off at their LSI student exhibition. Students specifically enjoyed the opportunity to set up an archaeology simulation, where they explained the process of digging and let others take a stab at excavating exciting treasures in the form of candy!
Cheers to another amazing summer of learning in the dirt!
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.
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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.
The Peabody 