Objects from Module 3
Although the first term was over, it is worth reflecting how many intriguing objects we’ve used in classes. I have come across many compelling hypotheses when try to figure out what was behind. Also, I learned new ways to explore and approach to objects.
- Padlet
Padlet is a social media that the class used through out the whole module. It is very user-friendly and we were all encouraged to often copy the profs’ posts and comment them on our boards. Here’s a link to mine: https://padlet.com/gmh27/atlasofmuses
I have also put photos I shared in previous blog posts on the padlet, such as “Air France!” and the mysterious spoon-like object in this post. But there are many more stories and I’m presenting them below.
- The leeches
In the mysterious objects class, the Opal group was assigned this ceramic jar with a few other compartments, and it turned out that it was actually a specific jar to contain medical leeches back in the 17th century. Prof Gemma has been interested in this type of antique medical equipment for some time, and she also presented to us a metal tool (unfortunately I don’t have a picture), which was designed to imitate the leeches’ teeth. The tool was invented in hope to replace live animals, but it wasn’t very effective. Later research proved that there were chemicals exclusively produced by these blood-suckers that even an intricate machine could not replace.
The prof then revealed that she actually was keeping leeches for pets and academic interest. Some of the class was not a big fan of the idea, but a morbid proportion, including me, was thrilled when hearing that prof was going to show us how she fed those leeches.
It was a Tuesday, a very long day of classes and before the Cambridge field trip. After Dave left, Gemma wheeled in with a glass jar and a two small plastic buckets. Worlds do not describe how the process went, so here’s a video.
The blood sausage in the video is a homemade recipe for those leeches. According to the prof, it’s easier to get the ingredients than we think. Simply ask the butcher for pig intestine and a small bottle of pig blood, and you’re ready to feed!
Those who stayed to watch were in awe when we saw how the leeches squirm to bite on the blood sausage. There was nothing like that, probably only the amazonian piranhas feasting on human would do. I was just feeling lucky I wasn’t the sausage.
The leeches became bulbous quickly, like bloated balloons. They went from slim black strings to thumb-thick cucumber, and they were still waggling the sausage to get more blood. It was then when we, through blood-murky water, saw that they had fine stripes on their back, and it was really my first time to know that medical leeches were identified with those stripes.
When the leeches were finally full, they became…sluggish. With special tweezers, the prof carefully clip them out of the murky water and dropped them in the glass jar with clean water and shells. The leeches had to be fed once every six months. Beside feeding time, they prefer dark and quiet environment (hence the shells) and they have to be absolutely in water. What I find most spectacular about these creatures is that they actually don’t need oxygen to live, which explains how the prof could just screw the lid back and leave them in the dark, alone.
- Touch them slowly
How many times have we seen in a museum, when a child reaches out a finger and then either pulled away by the parents or get told by the staffs not to touch anything?
Some of us were the child who likes to touch, some keeps having grubby hands when reaching adolescence and adulthood. Touching is bad news for conservation: the grease, dust, and sweat on our finger tips all cause harm for delicate things. However, touching is the first thing human learns a new thing. It is primitive, yet direct.
We had a session when we were allowed to interact with objects brought by prof Gemma. Our group was assigned with a small pine corn and a huge flamboyant fan, and no one had a clue what was presented in front of them.
The pie corn with a red ribbon was heavier than I thought when I weighed it in my palm. It is solid, hard-core, but strangely there was fur on partial surface, almost like an animal or a bumble bee. It did not smell like anything; scentless. I thought it was a Christmas tree pendant because there was a ribbon to hang it on, but it could also be just a lucky charm. I’m not so sure if I like it, though; the fur and the eye-like-holes are not a favorable combination for me, but the ribbon reminded me of a souvenir I brought from Slovenia, which I was very fond of.
I prefer the other, the fan. It weighed so light so it was easy to swirl it around. I especially love to see how the feather brushed through the air and quivered, like a wave of a rainbow.
We moved on to see what other groups had on their tables. There were a mask, a sea shell, and even a foot bone model! I still like the fan in our group and if I had to name one, I would say the foot bone model.
I’ve always had a strange fondness for bones. Bones are quiet, safe (except fossils; they could carry radiation, but only in rare cases), and tolerant. The shapes are all irregular and seemingly irrelevant to one and another, yet when they assemble, they can support gigantic creatures such as dinosaurs, but also be incredibly delicate within a mouse’s body. They silently document all sorts of information: health, diet, disease, habitat, and trauma, as long as the modern people know how to decipher. They also provide traces for use to source our links with other species in the world through times. Sometimes I find myself staring at the evolution aisle in many natural history museums, and wondering what had happened that made us step away from bonobos and chimpanzees, and eventually started talking, thinking, and possibly, paying mortgages. Bones aren’t always trustworthy, but they sure are diligent to take on the marks of the current environment. I know that some people, my classmates included, don’t always enjoy seeing a bone, especially there was a rod that went through, almost mirroring painful feeling on themselves, but I really appreciate every time I come across bones.
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Tactile interaction is something really against the instinct and code of a museum professional, and during the session everyone was being careful not to break anything. But like the fan, or the black mask, how would we know what it should look like if we don’t pick it up and give it a wave, or peek through the holes? Some argue that videos might help, but what do we say about this book?
- Broom Somerset 1912, and a pair of Sudanese swords
Remember that each gem group gets a handful of unknown objects? We were supposed to pick at least one for a presentation on its history and most possible guesses of what it was. Our module assignment, which was to draft an acquisition proposal, is also based on them.
My gem group, Sapphire, got these.
And of course, once again, this weird object, that eventually becomes my assignment.
I still don’t know much about the Sudanese swords, despite that Chris, our team member, had many discoveries on them. But it was this stone that really sparked my interest.
At first glance, some of us could tell that it was a hand tool some more primitive humans made and used. It seemed like the kind of “thing” that every natural history or archaeology museum would at least have one. But on the premise of not destroying it for further analysis, how could we tell the time and area of this rock tool? Can the written word “Broom Somerset 1912” on it be a clue?
My group decided to pick one object individually and sit for a week to see how we have found, and this rock was put off because no one claimed it. My first google on the the mere three words came out a rather ridiculous result: a Titanic victim, Mr. Broom, not even British.
It wasn’t until I was reading one of the journals recommended by profs did I stumble across the world “biface”. I’m sure to a lot of archaeology-major this is not a strange word, but English is not my first language, nor is archaeology, nor history is my background, so I was thrilled to learn the world, along with a picture that looked exactly like this rock.
The combination of biface and Broom came out with results more sensible: at first, it was another term, the Acheulean Bifaces, which a group of handaxes found primarily in Africa, but spread across to other European parts. The west point of these discoveries is located in the southern shore of Britain. Broom is a small town between Devonshire and Dorset, and was used to be an pit for excavation. Bingo!
(Or not?)
I’m 60% convinced that this might be one of the rocks dug out in Broom and might belong to the widespread Acheulean bifaces. However, this handaxe still presents a lot of riddles: What about Somerset? What about 1912?
There isn’t any archaeologist named Somerset, and the place Somerset is quite a distance away from Broom. There isn’t any mention of Somerset producing any archaeological finding, either. And 1912, although we could hypothesize that this is the year the rock was found/excavated, could we really say so? It could be the year of acquisition for anyone. In addition, no evidence proves that it was a year number; it could be a serial number in a collection database.
On the journey of cracking one riddle after another, I learned a little bit about the cosmos of the field of archaeology, and that was a great entry level for me. I’ve always been fascinated by excavations and findings, and although this is merely an advanced of a child’s treasure hunt, I now wonder a lot more research experience in museum collection, especially in history.
My ability to find and search for information, if I may boast a bit about it, has come handy and fit right on the quest of solving mysteries. When I was working in the film industries, it was common that we had to find a design that hasn’t been drafted, presenting in pictures that look similar. The job was to come up with different combinations of keywords and see which ones would yield. The motto, I guess, is universal, “I know the right piece was out there, in the endless sea of information and the river of history, and I just have to find it.” Prof Gemma also shared her quest when she was studying a tattoo on a skin specimen. The answers to all our questions are always easy and plain from mediocre people or every-day culture, and we all just have to find the right way.
Prof Dave seemed like he didn’t quite understand the relationship between the handaxe and all the hypotheses of Acheulean bifaces (probably because he had already had a long day of teaching. Poor man!), but after the class, I explained to him again and learned that he totally missed the part when we said there were words written on the rock. I also mentioned to him that I suspected the former owner of the tool might be right-handed, since none of our left fingers would fit the grooves on the rock. He seemed impressed and said that he had not known anything about it. Few former students did even less research on it and it was the first time (after a long time) that somebody paid attention to the rock. He had worked with natural history for a career, and he assured me that the rock was not a modern replica; it was solid, and he was sure it could be a genuine historical object. I was over the moon to hear him say so.
This is really by far the most fun module. I think we were really fortunate since the previous year, because of covid, students were not allowed to come into classes and touch the objects. I couldn’t imagine what the point was if any physical interaction was forbidden. By the time I wrote this post, there was another wave of new variant, the Omicron, and the possibilities of having online courses are looming over our heads even more gravely once again.
The day was short and the night was long. It was pre-Christmas and what was left before the whole class dismissed for a vacation was our assignment. We said goodbye and Merry Christmas with our mulled wine and minced pie, hoping to see one and another in classroom next year.
