Month: October 2017

Update: National Museum secures Galloway Hoard

Medieval, Museums, Treasures

National Museums Scotland has successfully raised the £1.98 million ($2,550,000) necessary to acquire the Galloway Hoard. Half of the money will be given to metal detectorist Derek McLennan, who discovered the hoard in a field in Dumfries and Galloway, Scotland, in 2014, as an ex gratia payment in accordance with the terms of the Treasure Act which awards finders of artifacts adjudicated to be treasure a cash sum equivalent to their market value as an incentive to disclosing these kinds of discoveries instead of looting them for secret resale or to keep for themselves. The other half will go to the landowners, the Church of Scotland, which will dedicate its share to the local parish in which the treasure was found.

The Galloway Hoard was assessed by the valuation committee at such a large sum because it is the richest Viking hoard ever discovered in Britain. It includes silver jewelry, silver and gold ingots, a unique gold bird-shaped pin, a lidded silver-gilt pot, arm rings, brooches, a solid silver cross pendant decorated in enamel with the images of the Four Evangelists, bejeweled aestels (manuscript pointers), glass and crystal beads, a rock crystal jar and much more. Besides the sheer quantity and quality of the precious objects in the hoard, they are without parallel in the different places and cultures they came from. The rock crystal jar is believed to have been made in the Middle East; the lidded pot is Carolingian; the glass beads are Scandinavian; the stamp-decorated bracelets are Irish; one of the silver pieces is engraved with runes at first thought to be Scandinavian but have been found upon closer examination to be Anglian. The ages of the objects vary significantly as well. The hoard was buried in the early 10th century, but the Carolingian pot was at least a century old by then, so it was likely kept as an heirloom for several generations before being used to hold the treasures it still contained a thousand years later.

Some of the greatest of the treasures found inside the vessel are of little pecuniary but inestimable archaeological value. They are the remains of textiles that survived wrapped around several of the pieces stored inside the vessel and around the pot itself, plus leather and wood fragments. These exceedingly rare surviving organic materials, never found before in a hoard of this age, contain a wealth of information about the Viking Age, its travel and trade routes. They’re also a major conservation challenge, which is one of the reasons the Galloway Hoard was not allocated to a Galloway museum. NMS has the resources, expertise and carefully controlled conservation environment to ensure the continued survival organic remains.

The hoard has been on temporary display at the National Museums Scotland in Edinburgh since the summer. The exhibition just closed on October 1st, but fear not, the treasures will be back in public view after a period of conservation and study. Here is Martin Goldberg, curator of the museum’s Early Medieval and Viking collections, guiding viewers through the exhibition and some of the objects from the Galloway Hoard.

Disk from da Gama ship is earliest known marine astrolabe

Modern(ish)

One of the objects found in the excavation of the shipwreck from Vasco da Gama’s second voyage to India discovered off the coast of Oman in 2014 has been identified as an astrolabe, a marine navigational tool that could calculate latitude based on the position of the sun. Marine astrolabes are very rare with only 108 of them known to exist. This one is the oldest of them all.

When divers discovered the copper alloy disc in the debris field of the Esmeralda, a ship in da Gama’s fleet that sank in 1503, there was no direct evidence on its surface of it being an astrolabe. All that was clearly visible were raised decorations — a Portuguese royal coat of arms and the esfera armilar (armillary sphere), King Manuel I’s personal emblem — which identified it as Portuguese. There is no writing on the disk and no other artifacts that might shed light on some aspect of the disk (age, purpose) were discovered near the find spot.

There were hints of its true function, however. Its round shape, its dimensions (17.5cm in diameter, 1.5mm thick), the hole in the center and the remains of what was likely a suspension bracket at the top so it could be worn as around the neck suggested it might be a very early astrolabe. Age of Discovery marine astrolabes were generally heavier and ballasted so they could hang plumb for optimal calculations even on a swaying, bobbing, rearing ship in heavy winds.

The Esmeralda disk doesn’t have the weight or cutouts common to the more typical examples from the 16th century. Because of the significant design differences, the marine archaeologists who examined it could not compare it to its brethren to confirm whether it even was an astrolabe. They’d need navigational markings to know for sure and while they thought there might be some very faint lines on the back, they were barely visible to the naked eye.

Into that breach stepped Professor Mark Williams at WMG, University of Warwick, and his trusty laser scanner. The high-tech scan and 3D model created from the data revealed that there were indeed markings on the disk, lines etched along the edges, each line exactly five degrees apart. Those are the navigational markings the team was looking for. Sailors used them to measure the height of the noonday sun to calculate their latitude on long voyages through wide-open seas. Vasco da Gama’s second voyage to India in which the Esmeralda was lost took his fleet down all of west Africa, across the Cape of Good Hope, up the east coast to Mombasa and then east to India. It took years and was extremely dangerous. A tool that could give you some idea of where in the dickens you were was invaluable on journeys of such enormous scale.

The precise date of manufacturer is unknown at this time, but it’s decades older than the any other marine astrolabe we know of.

[Expedition leader David] Mearns said: “We know it had to have been made before 1502, because that’s when the ship left Lisbon and Dom Manuel didn’t become King until 1495, and this astrolabe wouldn’t have carried the emblem of the King unless he was King.

“I believe it’s probably fair to say it dates roughly to between 1495 to 1500. Exactly what year we don’t know – but it is in that narrow period.”

He added: “It rolls back this history by at least 30 years – it adds to evolution, it adds to the history, and hopefully astrolabes from this period can be found.”

Here’s a video capturing the exact moment the astrolabe was dug out of the sand.

Face of elite ancient Peruvian “Lady of the Four Brooches” reconstructed. Kinda.

Ancient

In April of last year, archaeologists discovered a 4,500-year-old intact burial of a noblewoman at the ancient site of Apero in Caral, northcentral Peru. Her remains were found buried in the Huaca de los Idolos, a pyramidal structure made of overlapping platforms accessible via a central staircase built by the Norte Chico civilization, the oldest in the Americas which flourished in the area between the 4th and 2nd millennia B.C. She was carefully positioned in a crouch and wrapped in layers of textiles, a swath of cotton wrapped around her head, another cotton textile wrapped around body. Thus wrapped, her body was then bundled in a final layer, a reed fiber mat that was fastened closed with ropes. The mummy bundle was placed atop a stone basin containing plant matter offerings including a bowl of mate fragments, tubers and seeds. That was covered with a layers of ash and soil.
 
Pinned to the cotton sheath that was wrapped around her body archaeologists found four “tupus,” brooches carved in the shape of animals: two birds with long tail feathers and chrysocolla minerals as eyes and two howler monkeys. They were placed on top of her shoulders and earned her her modern moniker. Underneath her where her tucked head almost touched her knees was a splendidly long necklace made of 460 white mollusk shell beads with a large pendant made from the shell of the spondylus mollusk. This was a rare and luxurious item that attests to her high position in Apero society, as do the tupu fasteners.
 
Caral was a major urban center, long thought to be the most ancient city in the Americas and is certainly one of its most ancient. Covering more than 150 acres in area and inhabited by 3,000 people at its peak, it one of the largest Norte Chico sites known and its most thoroughly studied. No evidence has been found of defensive structures — no walls, no earthenware ditches, no battlements — nor have any weapons, mass graves or other indicators of warfare. Neither have archaeologists found remains suggesting the Norte Chico peoples practiced human sacrifice as later civilizations like the Incas would. About 14 miles from the main city of Caral, Apero was Caral’s harbour town and its primary source of fish.
 
Since the discovery of the mummy bundle, the Lady of the Four Brooches has been studied thoroughly. She was about five feet tall and right-handed. While her elaborate grave goods, burial method and location indicate she was a member of the elite of Apero, her bones show tell-tale signs of hard work during her lifetime, likely in agriculture or perhaps the local mainstay, fishing. She also appeared to have suffered a serious fall shortly before her death, fracturing three bones. Her skull was flattened on top between the occipital and parietal regions, the result of intentional cranial deformation done when she was a baby before her skull bones had hardened, a widespread practice around the world, including in ancient Andean societies. She was between 40 and 50 years when she died.
 
To bring her features back to life, an international team of archaeologists, scientists and artists collaborated on a facial reconstruction project, now complete. This was not a simple task. Her skull is 4,500 years old, after all, and has areas that are missing or severely stained by the decomposition process and the remains of the organic materials she was wrapped in. Brazilian 3D computer graphic artist Cicero Moraes was enlisted to turn that skull into a face. It took him two months to fill the gaps in the skull, replacing the missing eye socket by mirroring the complete one, comparing the Lady’s skull with that of a modern Peruvian woman of similar age and genetic ancestry and utilizing computer technology that simulates natural facial muscles using the skull as a foundation.
 
I don’t know why he would do such a thing in an ostensibly scientific research project, but he also softened the Lady of the Four Brooches’ features. He altered her markedly square, strong jawline he described as “masculine” so that her chin was more pointed giving her a softer more “feminine” appearance. (Women can’t have square jaws now? Somebody alert Paulina Porizkova to her lack of femininity stat!) He also hid her flat skull behind a headdress which was not among her grave goods. Cranial modification was not something hidden by the societies that practiced it. That was the opposite of their intent. In fact, it was often a designator of societal status and considered beautiful. There is no justification I can think of for projecting one’s own highly subjective aesthetic choices using a modern woman’s skull to distort the reconstruction. It should map directly to her real skull. What’s the point of using all those complex data tables and software to build up the soft tissues in an anatomically accurate manner if you’re going to gin up the bones they map to because you think a lady’s jawline isn’t dainty enough?
 
This bizarre choice is covered in the news stories and press materials entirely without comment as if it were totally ho-hum and not worth addressing. They just get right to the (admittedly compelling) finished digital reconstruction, unveiled Wednesday, October 11th, by the Ministry of Culture in Lima. I get it, because I’m always curious about facial reconstructions and have covered several, but I’ve never seen this kind of deliberate modification based on perceived chin cuteness and the artist’s preferred head shape. So I’d like to tell here she is, but the best I can do is say here are a few parts of her, including how her handsome adornments looked when worn.


Roman hair from the Capitoline Museums for Janet Stephens

Ancient, Museums, Roma, Caput Mundi

Janet Stephens, intrepid hairdressing archaeologist, was on my mind often as I traipsed through the rooms full of Roman busts in the Capitoline Museums. Her intensive research on Roman hairstyling coming from her perspective as a professional stylist, a unique viewpoint that gave her special insight into an arena most historians know nothing about, led her to fascinating discoveries like that Roman matrons likely had their elaborate braided updos sewn together instead of wearing wigs. She also unravelled the complexity of the seni crines, the characteristic hairstyle of the Vestal Virgins.

When I interviewed her almost six years ago, I asked her what changes she’d like to see in the archaeological community if she had her choice. She replied:

I would love it if all archaeological museums would display their sculptures out in the middle of the room instead of in niches and against walls! And I wish there were mirrors behind every small sculpture displayed in a case.

The Capitoline Museums have not made her dream come true, I regret to report. It’s a damn shame because that mirror idea is brilliant. The good news is that even though the busts are still on shelves up against the walls facing the room, many of the female portraits have been turned just enough that you can see the sides and back of their hair. You might have to crane a bit to do it, but it is now possible to see the business end of the Roman women’s hairstyles and even get a pretty decent picture of several of the most interesting ones. Yes, some Stretch Armstronging is required, but nothing too contortionist for single-jointed, non-rubberized people to handle.

I looked for hair that I couldn’t recall having seen her recreate on her YouTube channel yet and that had some intricate elements to it. Nobody famous, therefore, because Janet has already done quite a few empresses and society leaders. My final choices range in date from the 1st century A.D. through the 4th, and all these nameless Roman ladies have in common are great ornatrices and fly dos.


The last woman’s hair is less complex than some of the others, perhaps, but I found its tiger-striped elegance no less intriguing, so she gets the big embed to show off the fine details.

Simple, but stripey.

All of these busts were spread out in the ancient marbles gallery, keeping company with some of the famous sculptures of antiquity. My last post on the Capitoline Museums will cover the big names too. Stay tuned!

 

Looted mosaic from Caligula’s barge repatriated

Ancient, Looting

I am devastated to report that my Roman idyll is at an end. I still have at least two more posts I want to write about the wonders I’ve seen, but not today because I’ve been up for what feels like a hundred hours straight and so am going with a new story. It is Rome-related, however.

On Thursday evening, a section of marble opus sectile flooring from a great barge built by the infamous Emperor Caligula was officially returned to Italy. Manhattan District Attorney Cyrus R. Vance Jr. confiscated the piece (which was being used as a coffee table in New York City) last month as part of an investigation into antiquities trafficking. The investigation revealed the true origin of the “coffee table” was one of the Ships of Nemi, built around 35 A.D., and that it had been stolen from Italy during World War II. It was made into a table top and acquired by a Park Avenue antiques dealer who kept it for almost five decades without realizing its unique history and inestimable archaeological value.

The Ships of Nemi were the only known examples of Roman ceremonial parade barges, not so much functional ships as massive floating palaces. Caligula’s were decorated with the same luxurious materials and architectural finishes found in an early imperial terrestrial palace: lavish marble inlay floors, statuary, fountains, gardens, heated baths and even a temple to Diana. They were so huge — the largest 73 meters long by 24 meters wide, the smaller 71 x 20 — that they would barely have had any room to maneuver on the surface of the small Lake Nemi. The emperor likely used them as extensions to his lakeside villa, follies harkening back to the pleasure barges of Greece and Egypt of the type enjoyed by his ancestor Marc Anthony during his years at the side of Queen Cleopatra. They may have been used to celebrate the festival of Isidis Navigium, a ritual dedicated to Isis in her role as protector of sailors that took place on March 5th to reopen the navigation season.

After Caligula was assassinated in 41 A.D., the barges were sunk in Lake Nemi and all knowledge of their connection to the emperor was lost. Fishermen pulled up ancient maritime artifacts from the wreck sites for centuries, and their tales of Roman treasure ships wrecked in antiquity lying on the lake bed were widely known in Italy. The first attempts to raise the barges took place in the 15th century when architect Leon Battista Alberti was commissioned by Cardinal Prospero Colonna to recover what was then believed to be a single wreck. Alberti built a floating platform from which he dropped ropes fixed to harpoons. It wasn’t just a failure, it was enormously destructive. The scale of the barges and their depth (about 60 feet below the surface) made getting purchase on the whole structure impossible. The hooks tore up hunks of wood which Alberti studied, learning for the first time that some were sheathed in lead. He also recovered some lead piping whose maker’s marks were erroneously associated with Tiberius and later Trajan, but the project never went any further.

Later attempts to explore the wrecks weren’t salvage operations so much as straight looting expeditions. Pieces of wood were pried off the ships and carved into curios for the tourist trade. Bronze oar locks sculpted into the shape of lions’ heads were sold to antiques collectors. Finally in 1928 a pioneering maritime excavation was initiated to save the Nemi ships from the depredations of time and covetous people. The water level of the lake was lowered to expose the remains of the barges. They looked great, but decay set in immediately as soon as they were exposed to the air. With no means to preserve the delicate wood, experts suspended the project in 1930, resuming only when the government agreed to build a museum on the spot, right over the wrecks. That would keep them safe from the elements.

The Museo delle Navi Romane opened on the shores of Lake Nemi in 1936, a proud Benito Mussolini presiding over the inauguration. Only eight years later, these one-of-a-kind survivals of Roman shipbuilding burned to the ground the night of May 31st, 1944. Allied bombs hit the museum in response to Nazi anti-aircraft artillery. Museum staff also report having seen German troops going through the museum that night with a torch, so it’s possible they burned it down themselves because they sucked so hard. By the time US troops arrived on June 4th, the only artifacts left in the museum were a few of the salvage items recovered from the wrecks before they were raised.

That’s why this coffee table section is so disproportionally important. This one piece of marble mosaic floor is one of only a handful of objects still known to exist from the Nemi Ships.

The antiques dealer, Helen Fioratti, said she and her husband, Nereo Fioratti, a journalist, had bought the mosaic in good faith in the late 1960s from a member of an aristocratic family. The sale was brokered, she said, by an Italian police official famed for his success in recovering artwork looted by the Nazis.

“It was an innocent purchase,” Ms. Fioratti said in an interview. “It was our favorite thing and we had it for 45 years.”

Ms. Fioratti, who owns L’Antiquaire and the Connoisseur, a noted gallery for antiques from Europe on East 73rd Street, said she did not intend to fight the seizure because of the expense and time it would take. Still, she said she believes she has a legitimate claim to ownership. “They ought to give me the legion of honor for not fighting it,” she said.

For her part, Ms. Fioratti said she had no papers proving ownership and she could not remember what her husband had paid for the mosaic. She said he had learned about the piece from a friend, who told him the aristocratic family was looking for a buyer.

When the piece arrived at their Park Avenue home, they paid to have a marble frame attached to the square of flooring and then put it on a pedestal in their living room. Over the years, Ms. Fioratti said, curators who visited had told her they were interested in procuring it for their collections. “I could have made a fortune,” she said.

Pardon me while I roll my eyes as far back as humanly possible. Yes, truly, what a martyr you are for buying an ancient artifact with zero history of ownership and a trumped-up fictional background and then liking it so much you didn’t profiteer off your war loot.

It doesn’t look like she’ll be charged for possession of stolen property at this point, even though that is what the search warrant said the authorities were looking for when they seized the piece.