Tag Archives: prehistoric

Bronze Age cups and pygmy vessels

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By Alex Gibson at Prehistoric Ceramics Research Group

Pigmy Cups, Incense Cups, Biconical Cups, Aldbourne Cups, call them what you will, are a well-known component of the British Bronze Age grave furniture. Their perceived functions are, however, speculative. The Incense Cup interpretation of the early Wessex Antiquarians was deemed to have ‘nothing to recommend it’ by Abercromby in his pioneering corpus of 1912. Earlier, in his British Barrows of 1877, Canon Greenwell, not a great excavator, but ahead of his time in ceramic studies, listed the various past or contemporary interpretations of these vessels and concluded that none were entirely satisfactory. This conclusion remains valid. Interpretations ranging from drinking cups to lamps to burners of narcotic substances have graced the literature and the problem is that no single interpretation seems to work for every pot. Fenestrated Wall cups could not have held liquid but could have acted as lamps, particularly if beeswax was used. Multi-perforated cups such as Grape Cups or Biconical Cups could not have held liquid and one assumes that as the perforations were very much an essential part of the grammar of these types, then they were deliberate and functional. Incense or narcotic substances could indeed have been burnt in all these types but is there any direct evidence for it? One problem is that the cups of various types all have their own specific grammar and this suggests that they therefore may well have been designed for different uses. We may be wrong in trying to find the unifying function on such a typologically diverse set of vessels. It would be like classifying some Food Vessels, Beakers and Collared Urns together just because they tend to be under 30cm high. With the larger vessels we can see some very clear traditions yet the smaller vessels get grouped together simply because they are small.

fig24With this in mind, a programme of absorbed residue analysis was undertaken on some 25 cups from England, Scotland and Wales at the Department of Archaeological Sciences of the University Bradford. These samples were subject to Gas Chromatography (GC) and, if a possible signature was detected, by Gas Chromatography-Mass Spectometry (GC-MS). Both long-standing museum exhibits and very recently excavated examples were analysed but were generally unified by their failure to produce any tell-tale traces of former contents. A vessel from Whitford, Flintshire produced some possible traces of beeswax but these traces were too degraded to allow a positive identification. Other possible signatures might as easily have been the result of soil bacteria or recent accidental contamination. In short, those analysed do not seem to have been used.

Some other observations were made, however, especially in Scotland where a more comprehensive survey was carried out, but also in the other countries. In particular, the decoration of some vessels was rather ‘sloppy’ and yet others had been burnt, over-fired or were firing wasters. Some of the spalling on the wasters was catastrophic and these cups could never have been used in any way other than symbolically: they had never existed as complete vessels. Were they fired on the funeral pyre? Were they made for the cremation itself? Were they made by apprentices, new potters learning their trade? Certainly more work needs to be done on this topic particularly in non-Scottish museums though research is hampered by the stylised or ‘selective angle’ of illustration in some of the older excavation reports and by the less than sensitive reconstruction of some older finds. The secret(s) of these delightful vessels may lie in their technology rather than their form or speculative contents.

 

The Universal Addressability of Dumb Things

an exhibition curated by Mark Lecky, 27 April – 30 June 2013

The Universal Addressability of Dumb Things, 2013. Exhibition view; the Bluecoat, Liverpool 2013. Photo: Jon Barraclough.

The Universal Addressability of Dumb Things, 2013. Exhibition view; the Bluecoat, Liverpool 2013. Photo: Jon Barraclough.

from Nottingham Contemporary:

Turner Prize-winning artist Mark Leckey has curated an exhibition that explores the magical world of new technology, as well as tracing its connections to the beliefs of our distant past.

Historical and contemporary works of art, videos, machines, archaeological artefacts and iconic objects, like the giant inflatable cartoon figure of Felix the Cat – the first image ever transmitted on TV – inhabit an “enchanted landscape” created in Nottingham Contemporary’s galleries, where objects seem to be communicating with each other and with us.

In Leckey’s exhibition “magic is literally in the air.” It reflects on a world where technology can bring inanimate “things” to life. Where websites predict what we want, we can ask our mobile phones for directions and smart fridges suggest recipes, count calories and even switch on the oven. By digitising objects, it can also make them “disappear” from the material world, re-emerging in any place or era.

Laika's suit

Laika’s suit

from e-flux:

“I think of this show as a work of fiction: a non-realist, anti-realist, magic-realist, speculative, slipstream fiction, a sort of sci-fi show. An inflation or amplification of the way the world appears to me now, a shape of ‘things’ to come. As it seems to me, the further technology evolves the more our minds devolve back to the imaginings of our superstitious past. Call it an animistic future or techno-atavism. The Universal Addressability of Dumb Things is a world beyond tomorrow when every ordinary, unthinking object—tinned meat, refrigerators, paving stones—becomes an active participant in the Great Connection. Now I already find objects bewitching as they endow blessings and inflict punishments on me every day. And technology seems only to be increasing their supernatural potency as I sit in front of my machine and with a touch my wishes are made manifest. The mental gets materialized.

“So let’s say that all the objects in the show have already communicated with each other and they’ve called themselves together. They’ve formed a Parliament with representatives from the Vegetable World, Animal Kingdom, Mankind and the Technological Domain. And the breadth of that assembly is contained within its two hands: a Medieval reliquary and a bionic limb. Everything from one hand to the other is equal in aspect, with no distinctions drawn between, whether it is organic or inorganic, from the past or the present, whether it’s imagined or real. The full figure of Sputnik continually girdles the earth as the Giant of Cerne Abbas stares forever up to the stars and the stars keep staring back.”
–Mark Leckey

The Universal Addressability of Dumb Things is the latest in a series of acclaimed artist-curated Hayward Touring exhibitions. It includes work by the artists William Blake, Louise Bourgeois, Prunella Clough, Peter Coffin, Martin Creed, John Gerrard, Robert Gober, Richard Hamilton, Nicola Hicks, Roger Hiorns, Andy Holden, Elad Lassry, Pierre Molinier, Jonathan Monk, Mick Peter, Richard Prince, Jim Shaw and Tøyen, amongst others.

It also features marvels and artefacts such as a mummified cat and canopic jar from Pharaonic Egypt, a phallic sculpture from A Clockwork Orange, a mandrake root, a drawing by ‘Joey the Mechanical Boy,’ the helmet of a Cyberman from Dr. Who, a giant inflatable Felix the Cat, a 13th-century silver reliquary in the form of a hand and a clay concept car. The Universal Addressability of Dumb Things expands on Leckey’s practice of exploring the tenuous boundaries between the virtual and real worlds by creating a network of objects that communicate with each other and the visitor. Read this way, it could also be considered his most ambitious exhibition to date.

Mark Leckey lives in London and was born in Birkenhead in 1964. He won the Turner Prize in 2008. The Universal Addressability of Dumb Things opened at the Bluecoat in Liverpool and will be presented at The De La Warr Pavlion in Bexhill-on-Sea from 13 July.

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Menschenbilder und Menschenbild

Bilder aus:
Menschenbilder und Menschenbild: Anthropomorphe Bildwerke der frühen Eisenzeit

Christoph Huth ergründet den archäologischen Aussagewert vorgeschichtlicher Menschenbilder und untersucht, inwiefern die Bildwerke Einblicke in die kognitive Vorstellungswelt ihrer Schöpfer gewähren.
Der Autor befasst sich mit Menschendarstellungen vorgeschichtlicher Gemeinschaften der frühen Eisenzeit 8.-5. Jahrhundert v. Chr. in Mitteleuropa und Oberitalien. Im Mittelpunkt steht die Bedeutung anthropomorpher Bildwerke als Kulturerscheinung. Die früheisenzeitlichen Bildschöpfungen werden nach ihrem Vorkommen, nach Inhalt, Sinn und Verwendungs­zweck sowie nach ihrem Aussagewert im Hinblick auf das Selbstverständnis der Gemeinschaften untersucht.

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Kris Martin

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from Saatchi Gallery Profile:

Standing on top of each of the large megalith-like boulders that comprise Summits (2009), Kris Martin’s eight-part found rock installation, is a small marker. When, and if, spotted, these identifiers change the viewer’s perspective and turn the room’s vaguely prehistoric ambiance into less numinous territory. A small paper cross crowning each peak indicates that they have all been conquered, and by using a charged symbol whose real-life application connotes a range of meanings – of man conquering the limits of awe-inspiring nature, of a civilisation conquering another civilisation, of death conquering all – Martin sets in motion a stark thinking process.

Within the artist’s visual pun there’s also perhaps a metaphor for the importance of process in art-making itself. “The top is nice when you haven’t reached it,” Martin has said. “But once you get [there], the potential is gone. Dreams are what keep people going.”


Martin’s conceptual installation, repeating the same conceit eight times over, is a comment both on the futility of human ambition – what is left once seemingly unreachable summits have been conquered? – and also on the oppressive and absurd spread of consensual, hegemonic belief.


Reminiscent in their exotic roughness of the blue, impossibly steep and faraway mountains that steal the fantastic landscapes of Joachim Patinir and his 16th century contemporaries, these lifeless stand-ins humorously exaggerate the heights to which human foolishness and its quixotic desire can rise. “For me, they’re all very dangerous, mountains… They’re filled with a dangerous power, especially for puny little human beings, like we are.”