Future Archaeology...Just Doing My Part

I'm going to start this post off with a little scenario that I've cooked up, so just sit back and enjoy where my mediocre story-telling skills are taking you:

"Well, Jeremiah, what do you think it is?" "Um, well maybe its MM1a (Middle Modern 1a), professor?" "Jeremiah, do you read anything for this class? Of course it isn't MM, that's hundreds of years off. Clearly this falls into the EI2 (Early Ikea 2) time period. You can tell from the simplicity of the design and decoration, and the unique Swedish fabric of the ware. Yes, this is definitely Early Ikea." "But Professor, aren't all EI finds suppose to come in groups of eight?" "You should know by now that's a misconception. People thousands of years ago could have shared, or been very clumsy- that's a possible explanation for why we only have a partial set from this site." "Ooooh, I see. Is EI very rare?" "Not really, EI1 is pretty limited to finds only in Scandinavia, but we find EI2 all over the planet."

This dialogue came from some musing about what future archaeologists are going to name our pottery types (you know, how now we have EH- Early Helladic- and things like that, and how archaeologists now use types/styles of pottery to determine dates). Thinking about the pottery in my cupboards, I figure future archaeologists will be forced to name our period the Ikea Age.

Now, of course, future historians might look through that ancient moldering archive called the world wide web (since we all now that future people will be using a bigger, better, faster version of the internet, probably sponsored by Google) to look back and try to find information on our strange and distance culture. Who knows? Maybe even future academics might write their dissertations on the pervasiveness of Early Ikea 2 ware (of course, now I want to ask future archaeologists, "What does Late Ikea ware look like?! I want to know!"). Or not. I could be way off here. Maybe some time in the not-to-distant future we stop using ceramics altogether and future archaeologists will just call our time The End of Pottery...duh duh duuuunhn. What? It could happen!

A Solution for Starving Artists

Artists aren't well known for their overwhelming monetary success. Rather, they're more notorious for being impecunious (I'm studying for the GRE- that's one of the words I've learned). Today's general method of dealing with starving artists is somewhere between overall disregard and parental assistance (or artist communes). Like the last post, I dug up a cultural gem while researching (JSTOR fun time) recently. Some social welfare geniuses in France circa 1849 came up with the idea of starting a lottery for their benefit:

Bulletin of the American Art-Union, Gleanings from Foreign Journals (1849):

Lottery in aid of poor artists in France

A lottery has been established to aid the suffering circumstances of the numerous body of young and less talented artists, who have been plunged into adversity by the unsettled state of the country during the past year. It consists of 100,000 tickets, at two francs fifty centimes each, making a capital of 250,000 francs, to be expended in pictures, drawings, &c. There will be 3,000 prizes, varying in value from 5,000 francs to 10 francs each. Every prize-holder above the sum of 100 will receive with his picture the receipt of the artist for the same. The choice of works is made by a committee, as they will be better able to appreciate the necessities and ability of the candidates who desire to avail themselves of these means to sell their works.

I really like this idea. The artists are working, producing art, and the lottery helps connect them with potential patron. Plus, the tickets are only two and a half francs. (I'm really not sure how much that is, since I've never seen or used a franc...still two and a half of them can't be that much right?) Are there things around like this now? I would way rather enter in an art lottery than the lottery-lottery. No one wins the real lottery. Especially not me or other people I've ever met. But if there's only 100,000 tickets, there's a legitimate probability that I could win one of the 3,000 prizes (I would know, since I've been studying probability and other math I haven't done in years, for the sake of the GRE).

Unionize That!

Now, I don't know a ton about unions in general, but as far as I know (rather, knew), most unions have something to do with labor, workers, industry and that sort of thing. Like the teacher's union, steel worker's union, and so forth. Thinking about unions immediately puts into me into a late 19th century- early 20th century frame of mind; you know, restricting child labor, protecting factory workers, etc.

However, in working on a side project, I've just come across and entirely different kind of union. Apparently mid-19th century spawned art unions, like the American Art Union (whose monthly members publication I've been reading). The purpose of this type of unions, as far as I can tell, is to give up-and-coming artists a chance and to provide some place for them to display their work. For the low, low cost of $5 a year (in 1849, since that;'s the year I've gotten up to in their publication...maybe dues went up later), you could join the American Art Union. You don't have to be American or an artist necessarily, just a person with 5 dollars. The Union takes all of these dues and uses them to publish a journal, to but or borrow new paintings for their New York gallery (which was free to the public!), and to commission a painting. For your 5 dollars, you get the monthly bulletin (which is some quality reading, let me tell you), a mini copy of the year's painting, and a raffle entry to win the painting (one for every 5 dollars you pay in). In flush years, members might even get a bronze medal for their trouble.

It's a cool idea, and it certainly worked for the American Art Union. In 1839, they had 814 members. By 1848, they were up to 16,475 members. That year, they raked in $85,134.28. Not bad at all. Still, it seems like a weird kind of union. I suppose an interest in art is the underlying common thread between all of the members, but it just doesn't feel right to me. There is only a small board of central committee members/overseers- no general nation-wide organizational structure. The biggest benefit of membership seems to be a raffle ticket- the Union doesn't fight for artists rights or anything like that (that being said, I would totally pay 5 dollars to enter in a raffle for a painting). It doesn't seem serious enough to me. All teachers have to join the teacher's union (okay, all public school teachers, but still that's the vast majority), but these art unions seem to be a lackadaisical, just-for-fun sort of thing. Certainly, not all American artists joined the American Art Union; not all gallery owners, art professionals, appreciators, etc. were members. So maybe calling themselves a union was a bit of wishful thinking- maybe they were more of a "club"?

Later Addition: For people who like pictures, I dug this up from the May 1849 Bulletin of the American Art-Union:

Fun Words Starting with P!

Extra points for you if you already knew these words.

Pusillanimous 
[pyoo-suh-lan-uh-muhs] Origin: 1580-90
-adj. Cowardly
He is so pusillanimous that he is afraid to leave the house.

Poltroon
[pol-troon] Origin: 1520-30
-noun. A wretched coward; craven
-adj. Marked by utter cowardice
You evil poltroon! (I really like this word as an insult)

Postprandial 
[pohst-pran-dee-uhl] Origin: 1810-20
-adj. After a meal, usually dinner
I'm always ready for a postprandial snooze.

Sacking A City: Do It Right, Or Not At All

If you’re an invading horde, or massively successful conqueror or an army commander after vengeance, it might be handy to know how to really sack a city, and to sack it good. Of course, there’s always the standard pillaging (take all the treasure, antiquities, etc.), which has been done a lot (like Constantinople by the Crusaders). There’s also the equally frequent (and effective) burning to the ground, like say, at Troy. But I mean, if you’re really gonna sack a city, you have to go all out and get creative.

Best example of a truly thorough sacking of a city? Carthage circa 146BC. Those Romans not only defeated the city militarily (okay, it took them two years), but they also burned and basically leveled the city. Furthermore, legend has it (and some 19th century historians) that the Romans salted the earth, so that it couldn't support life. Even if its a bit impractical (carting large doses of salt peter around is probably more effort than its worth, plus you can't just occupy the city after you've salted it to death, can you?), that’s thinking outside of the box.

So the moral of the story is that if you want to sack a city thoroughly, do something really rotten, like ruin their ability to grow food for the foreseeable future. Then again, if you yourself want to actually use the city post-defeat, you probably shouldn’t turn it to dust. You could be like the Ostrogoths in Ravenna, and just keep everything nice and pretty, in the hopes of making you seem less like a barbarian. After all, rebuilding or starting a new city is expensive. So if you're feeling particularly vindictive, go ahead and sack a city; but if you're not going to really do it right, don't bother at all (unless its an ugly city...in which case I suggest razing it to the ground and starting over...unless you have no aesthetic skills, in which case...oh never mind).

Fresh New Artwork of the Week!

As much as I love the internet, exhibition catalogues and other conveniences, you really can't beat a museum. The wonderful thing about museums is that you can see an object in person, which really makes a world of difference. For instance, I once wrote in a paper about a faience monkey figurine with a cartouche of some Egyptian pharaoh (Ramesses maybe? It was a while ago). Even with a black-and-white picture of the thing, I barely recognized it when I stumbled upon the thing in person. Who knew the "miniature" in its description meant "so small its barely visible"?! I wrote about that thing?! Man, I really don't think I had any idea what I was working with, back when I wrote that paper. How was I supposed to know?

On a different note, the new Artwork of the Week comes from the same museum as the little faience monkey figurine (in Nafplio, Greece). This week's "artwork" stretches the usual definition of art, since it is also a practical object. But you have to admit, something like this requires quite a bit of craftsmanship. Perhaps you're wondering what I'm talking about? Alright, fine, I'll tell you.

This week's artwork is a Mycenaean-era bronze suit of armor from Dendra.

Bronze suit of armor, 1400 BC, Dendra, Nafplio Archaeological Museum, Nafplio, Greece

If you think about it, this is truly amazing. Someone, thousands of year ago, actually wore this. Can you imagine that? Look at the size of it! It is a giant metal dress! How would someone have ever fought in that? (Granted, this one was probably just for the burial of a Mycenaean warrior and likely never saw battle.) Several things about this, besides its size and weight: 1) look at that skirt! How do you march to battle in a banded knee-length metal skirt? The design of this armor doesn't seem to take into consideration how real people actually move, and 2) either Mycenaeans had really long necks, or such tragically bad eyesight that covering up their faces didn't matter. The big cylindrical neck of that armor is really high.

I'm still wondering how anyone could have managed hand-to-hand combat in armor like this. It is hot, heavy, and rather inflexible. Still, it is truly amazing. Even more amazing is that it survived thousands of years. It makes me admire the Mycenaeans (even more). And you should admire them too, for their brash, warrior-loving, insane armor-making selves.

Showers Should not be this Complicated

 

Showers are not terribly complicated from a mechanical standpoint. The technology that works them hasn’t changed all that much since it was invented a few hundred years ago. This being true, why on earth are showers so difficult in Europe? First off, there’s the dreaded “handshower”, you know, where the showerhead is has the little hose and isn’t attached at the top of the shower? If it just had the hose and an attachment high up, it would be all fancy, but since it doesn’t, you have to do all the aiming and have nowhere to put the showerhead besides the floor otherwise. You can never relax because you always have to be holding the showerhead, otherwise its showering water all over the place.

The handshower makes the next peculiarity of European showers particularly insensible: no shower curtain. Why? Seriously, I cannot think of a good reason not to have a shower curtain. Do Europeans just really like to get their whole bathroom wet when they shower? Its not like the shower curtain is a super-modern or expensive item either, so I don’t know what’s holding them back. They have regular curtains, like for windows and such, so clearly they are aware of the concept. We can keep the sun out our rooms, but not the water out of the bathroom? It doesn’t make any sense!

Now some showers do have curtains, but they’re so flawed as to be useless. For instance, one of the shower curtains I’ve encountered was about three and a half feet long and about five and a half feet off the ground (and hung from a curtain rod just outside the shower). What then, is the purpose of this? Its hardly blocking any water, and what it does catch drips off of it right into the main part of the bathroom. Why bother at all then?

Another baffling feature of European showers is that some aren’t at all differentiated from the rest of the room. Not only don’t they have a curtain, but they also don’t have anything on the floor, like a little ledge to keep water from running into the main part of a bathroom. Is this a personal preference this? Are there really just a bunch o Europeans who enjoy that flooded-bathroom feeling after every shower? Sometimes I hear people tell me that they want to move to Europe and become European, but if this is their attitude about showering (which should be a really uncomplex issue), I’ll keep my luxurious American bathrooms, thanks.