Three Things Thursday: Reuse, Stories, and Fragments

It was really exciting to read the latest Sara Perry article (with Simandiraki-Grimshaw, Colleen Morgan, James S. Taylor, Aida Fadioui, Lise Foket, Piraye Hacıgüzeller, Despoina V. Sampatakou, Paola Derudas, Holly Wright & Alice Clough) titled “Towards New Futures for Archaeological Data Production: Challenging Archaeonormativity through Storytelling” in the Journal of Field Archaeology. Not only is the article intriguing (and refreshingly honest), but also relevant to some of the work David Pettegrew and I have been writing about (for the very same journal).

In short (since the article is open access, you can just go and read it), the article details efforts of the Transforming Data Reuse in Archaeology (TETRARCHs) project. Instead of the traditional notion of archaeological data, however, which invariably evokes counts of sherds, coordinates, and other quantitative expressions of contexts, artifacts, and relationships, Perry and her collaborators sought to collect qualitative data from the produced through the experience of doing archaeology. They created a system where they would collect images, sounds, stories, and even alternate modes of artifact labeling (such as alternative tagging of artifacts) associated with archaeological work. For the authors of this article, this data conveys every bit as much information about the value of archaeological work as the more conventional forms of data. Moreover, the data associated with experiences often fall through the cracks on projects and the data left behind is only a rater deracinated expression of the significance of archaeology as disciplinary practice. Perry and her co-authors discovered, unsurprisingly, that collecting the kind of data that they sought to collect was challenging not only because it fit awkwardly in the normative data collection schedule associated with archaeology (even on a project that embraced their efforts), but also because practitioners struggled to produce and preserve evidence of their experiences as other obligations at the excavation took precedent. Of course, this is not a critique of the value of these data as much as the overwhelming weight of “archaeonormative” data collection scheme.

This article got me thinking of three things:

First, some of what David Pettegrew and I sought to accomplish in our forthcoming article, “Mobilizing the Archaeological Report for a Future of Reuse: Linked Open Data and the Scholar-Led Publication” is to offer a view on how the thoughtful publication of linked, open data can spur greater engagement. While our piece very much focused on traditional archaeological data (from an intensive pedestrian survey), by presenting significant quantities of “paradata” and offering exempla of reuse, we hoped to expand who could use and make meaning from archaeological knowledge. Whether we are successful (and whether this success can be measured) is another matter, but the intent was there.

Second, I’ve been thinking a good bit about pseudoarchaeology and alternative archaeologies lately (as readers of this blog know). One of the ways in which pseudoarchaeology works — much to the chagrin of “very serious professional archaeologists” (and, yes, that is a euphemism for the “anti-pseudoarchaeology” crowd) — is through practices associated with scientific publication and scientific reasoning. These are, of course, regarded as normative and this allows them to regard other forms of knowledge making as invalid (at best) and fraudulent (at worst). Of course, there is a particularly nefarious kind of pseudoarchaeologist who mimics scientific archaeology to produce subversive forms of knowledge and these individuals receive the most relentless ire.

On the other hand, there is a meaningful number of pseudoarchaeologists who leverage alternative forms of expression to promote their views. Pseudoarchaeology is embedded in music (e.g. Sun Ra), literature (e.g. Zora Neal Hurston), visual media (especially films), and even forms of religious expression. These media and practices not only defy the normative structures of scientific argument, but often work to subvert these structures not only through playful (or malicious) mimicry (evocative of the destabilizing role played by Homi Babha’s post-colonial mimic), but through disregarding disciplinary forms of argument entirely. By stepping outside of the realm of disciplinary archaeology, pseudoarchaeology produces the kind of incommensurable knowledge that resists critique, on the one hand, and leverages new media, new kinds of understanding, and new adherents, on the other. While the mimic can often be unmasked, pseudoarchaeology’s roots go far deeper than the often sickly shrubbery pruned by the endless series of books decrying its influence.

The kind of archaeology that Perry and her collaborators sought to document and preserve represents similar forms of engagement with the past. These emotional, spontaneous, and deeply personal encounters with archaeology by nature defy the normative constraints of disciplinary practice.

Finally, I remain fascinated by storytelling as a way to counterbalance the fragmentation at the heart of archaeological practice. This year, I’ve been thinking a good bit about how photography serves to fragment time, space, and experience. It goes without saying that photographs have emerged as key component of documenting archaeology at the same time as the discipline embraced approaches to excavation that sought to fragment sites into trenches and strata. I wondered how the emphasis on storytelling could serve as a counterbalance to the modernist tendencies of archaeological practice or will it be merely a rearticulation of the fragmented reality that we all appear to endure.