Digging Pixels 3: The Conventions of Archaeological Imagery

Stephanie Moser’s 2001 “Archaeological Representation: The Visual Conventions for Constructing Knowledge about the Past” summarizes the growing realizations through the 1980s–90s that the communication of archaeological knowledge is not a neutral process; that the way knowledge is presented is as important as what knowledge is presented, in terms of the meanings transmitted. During this time, archaeologists (along with anthropologists in general) also became aware of their subjective positions as individuals with their own preconceptions and cultural backgrounds, subject to the same pop-culture images and baggage as everyone else. Moser points out that this includes popular imagery about archaeology. In other words, the production of archaeological knowledge is a two-way street: archaeological information filters out to the public, but public conceptions feed back into the system.

Those presenting archaeological information, whether in scholarly journals, museums, or PBS documentaries, rely on visual information. Photos, maps, illustrations, and models all influence the way we consumers of the information (archaeologists and public alike) construct the imagined past. Moser shows that these representations have conventions that provide their own layers of meaning, in addition to the obvious “top layer” of information they contain. She singles out several conventions to review: “iconography, autonomy, longevity, authenticity, singularity, dramatism, and persuasiveness” (p. 269).

Moser’s method in this article is to examine historical illustrations of archaeological subjects, ranging from 1548 to 1924, for these underlying conventions. She shows examples of each. 1) Iconography is the use of familiar symbols to convey meaning. 2) Autonomy refers to the way representations take on a life of their own, such as through the contributions of a particular artist. 3) Archaeological icons have longevity through being adapted and reused, and because early iconic images (such as the “primitive naked warrior”) are fundamental to many of our ideas about the past. 4) Authenticity is a two-edged sword: Archaeologists (and many popularizers) are concerned to present thorough and correct information—to be as authentic as possible. But any illustration is an abstraction, and any reconstruction is a fiction to some degree. The more authentic-looking the representation is, the more we are tempted to accept it unquestioningly. 5) Singularity refers to the inescapable fact that we cannot present the totality of past existence, only limited or single views. 6) Effective representations are often dramatic and emotionally laden, increasing our acceptance of the image’s veracity and details. 7) To be successful, representations must be plausible; to be plausible, they must conform to our beliefs and expectations.

This is a powerful collection of ideas that any reader/viewer of archaeological material can use. When watching a documentary, for instance, we can ask, “What familiar images do I see? Is this a convincing representation, and why? Am I seeing what I expect to see, or something surprising? What other explanations could there be for the evidence?” This kind of awareness is becoming increasingly important as visual technology becomes more powerful and convincing. Archaeologists are concerned that 3D models, for instance, are dangerously convincing, and so they are working on ways to show uncertainty. It’s also becoming much easier for the public to produce their own archaeological models, such as in 3D virtual worlds. It will be interesting to see how Moser’s list of conventions play out when almost anyone can build their own Alamo.

Reference
Moser, Stephanie
2001 Archaeological Representation: The Visual Conventions for Constructing Knowledge about the Past. In Archaeological Theory Today, edited by Ian Hodder, 262-283. Polity Press, Cambridge, UK, and Malden, Maryland, USA.

Digging Pixels 2: Modeling Rome’s Theatre of Pompey

In my first post I wrote about an archaeological study in Second Life, an online 3D virtual world. Archaeologists are interested in other aspects of 3D simulations, too. One way they use 3D models is to virtually reconstruct ancient sites or artifacts. Reconstructions can be fascinating to look at, for the public and professionals alike, but can also serve as research tools.

Such was the case when researchers at the University of Warwick, UK, embarked on creating a digital redo of Rome’s vast Theatre of Pompey, built in 55 B.C., “possibly the largest theatre ever built.” Although much of the original building remains, it was largely incorporated into the dense fabric of surrounding homes and shops during the Middle Ages. Parts can be glimpsed in basements and walls, but the way they link is not obvious. Because of its documentation in ancient texts, the theatre became the model for theatres throughout the Roman Empire, later in the Renaissance, and thus for Western theatres in general. Yet little is known about the original.

To address this lack, the researchers set out to assemble an ambitious electronic repository of information about the site, spanning its history and including 3D models, text references, records of every artifact associated with the site, and acoustical models. The digital reconstruction based on this resource was created with the highest possible accuracy from CAD drawings, and can be continually revised and updated with new information, since a virtual model allows ongoing adjustment and correction. A model of this kind has many advantages: it avoids invasive archaeological procedures; it can be easily publicized; and it can generate still images from any angle, interactive moving images, and even virtual environments for researchers and the public to experience.

But perhaps most important, the model is a tool for the ongoing investigation of the structure of the theatre the relationships between the parts. A full and detailed 3D model makes it easier to hypothesize about the areas of the theatre that can’t be seen, for instance by using virtual cutaway sections. The model can be zoomed into at any level of detail, rotated, modified, and shown in multiple versions to indicate different possible interpretations—crucial in not creating the impression of false certainty. The nature of the process, too, adds depth to the study, since it has required the collaboration of archaeologists with modelers, archivists, theatre and urban historians, and surveyors.

Coming full circle to the idea of virtual worlds, the researchers have proposed using the virtual reconstruction for virtual performances, bringing the ancient theatre to (virtually) full life and realizing its original purpose. It would not be the first of its kind; in Second Life there is a virtual Old Globe theatre that gives live Shakespearean performances by avatars, and a number of scholarly reconstructions of other historical theatres. This one, though, may be the most ambitious and thorough yet. Whether in Second Life or some other virtual realm, we may someday be able to sit in the 25,000-seat hall of Pompey’s theatre, the model for theatres over two millenia.

Reference
Beacham, R. and H. Denard
2003 The Pompey Project: Digital Research and Virtual Reconstruction of Rome's First Theatre. Computers and the Humanities 37(1): 129–139.

Digging Pixels 1: Virtual Archaeology (Come on, Literally?)

Archaeologists study the traces people leave behind, in order to learn about their lives. Until recently, those traces were generally on the ground or under it, where gravity inevitably takes the bits and pieces that we cast off or stop using. Twentieth-century technology has given us some ways of resisting this. Our radio and TV signals have escaped earth’s orbit, and so have spaceships and satellites, literally fighting gravity. The future Space Archaeologist will have to travel far to recover some of those ruins.

Some of our flights, though, have taken a more ephemeral route. The Internet has opened up new frontiers of cyberspace, which we have colonized rapidly. Blogs, social networks, and forums are where we scribble our graffiti. And while just a few years ago we were limited to cybertext and photos, we now have fully 3-dimensional places to explore since the development of virtual worlds such as Second Life, which has 50–70,000 users online at any given time. Social scientists of all kinds have followed this development with interest, including archaeologists. Second Life (SL) is a social space where people interact via their avatars, forming groups, communities, and cultures; but it is also a sensual universe of simulated ground, sea, sky, and space, where each user can build a personalized environment limited only by imagination.

Rodney Harrison, in “Excavating Second Life: Cyber-Archaeologies, Heritage and Virtual Communities” (Journal of Material Culture vol. 14, no. 1: 75–106), sees SL as a place where concepts of heritage are played out through these created environments. Heritage conservation in this context means that some virtual constructions are seen as worthy of preservation and special treatment, just as real-world historical and archaeological sites are selectively preserved according to cultural priorities. Harrison’s study reviews statements on blogs and web sites about SL heritage sites such as monuments, replicas of real-life heritage sites, and “conserved buildings,” and so it is largely a textual study rather than a study of the heritage sites themselves. He examines some of the modes in which people experience these sites, for instance whether they visit them alone or in groups, but this information is based on self-reporting rather than observation. He does gather some hard data: He examines the SL visitor statistics for some sites identified as having heritage characteristics, to discover their popularity relative to other SL sites. Harrison also investigates ways that virtual artifacts can be preserved for posterity.

The conclusions he draws are that virtual heritage sites are intended to create a sense of history and communal origins, and that they tend to celebrate elites and rulers rather than ordinary people. This is one of his chief concerns: that alternative viewpoints do not have a voice in these virtual worlds. His concern seems to be based on the fact that there are a few “official” sites in SL that are maintained by Linden Labs (the owning company) and that have some recognized cachet. His concern is puzzling, since any user of SL can build anything desired, and viewpoints are not restricted (apart from some rules about adult content in non-adult areas).

Harrison sometimes takes the idea of virtual archaeology too literally, such as looking for ways to determine the (relative) antiquity of virtual sites. Overall, this is more useful as a thought-provoking piece than as a research piece.