Coaxing artifacts into giving up their ghosts

by Meghan Smith, Conservation Specialist

In 200 years, what kinds of everyday objects will illustrate our lives for archaeologists and historians? Perhaps iPads or cell phones will be the most compelling emblems of 2012. But looking back two centuries, things were undoubtedly simpler.

This month, our state historic site at New Harmony unveils a new exhibition featuring objects from the daily lives of its early citizens. Most of the artifacts come from archaeological digs, and look a bit worse for wear after spending so many years in the dirt. Metal objects, in particular, tend to suffer; environmental factors like oxygen and water cause damage. When they come out of the ground, these metal artifacts are covered with a hard crust made up of corrosion and matrix (which is a fancy term for the dirt around the object). While the damage can never be completely reversed, some of the crust can be removed so that the object underneath is a lot more recognizable.

But getting the corrosion and matrix to give up the ghost isn’t easy. When the objects for this exhibition first came to our lab, some of them were barely recognizable. “Wait, that’s a fork?” I asked, pointing to a lumpy-looking thing. “Yup,” said Bill Wepler, our archaeological curator. “It’s in there somewhere.” That fork and the accompanying knife, pictured below, were the most challenging artifacts we worked on for the exhibition.

Image of the knife and fork prior to treatment.

Removing the matrix and reducing the warty corrosion layer while preserving  the underlying object is tricky, time-consuming work. The unsightly corroded metal surface often detaches along with stable surface layers below, so we have to get as close as possible without actually removing any of the desirable surface of the object. Most of the work is done with scalpels, pin vises and brushes. Magnification and powerful lights are necessary in order to see in as much detail as possible. Still, as careful as we might be, things happen. Minute cracks in the object will cause one area to weaken while a nearby spot is worked on. Wicking adhesive solution into the crack helps stabilize the object, but bits will inevitably fall off. When they do, we carefully re-adhere them to the object.

During treatment, the fork’s bone handle came apart. Not to worry, fork: there is an adhesive treatment in your future.

Once we’ve removed as much of the matrix and corrosion as possible, the last step is to apply a thin layer of consolidant to the whole surface of the object.  The consolidant used is a specially formulated acrylic coating that stops any more corrosion from building up because of exposure to moisture; it also helps prevent any more pieces coming loose.

So, after a lot of hours spent peering through a magnifier and picking away bits of dirt and rock, the knife and fork look a lot more recognizable! You’d never mistake them for something out of your own cutlery drawer, but that’s part of their history. They’ve been indelibly marked by many years spent in the Indiana soil.

The finished product, on display in Community House No. 2.

And now the knife and fork, along with dozens of other archaeological objects, are on display at the New Harmony State Historic Site! It’s a beautiful place to spend a day or two, so head on down to discover another chapter in Indiana’s story.

Fake it ‘til you make it

by Gaby Kienitz, Head Conservator

Here in the Conservation Lab we’re pretty serious about artifacts. When we treat an artifact we’re guided by a code of ethics that tells us, among other things, that our actions should not permanently remove, alter or obscure any part of an object. But what happens when vital parts of an artifact are missing? That’s when we fake it, and it’s the point where ethics become really important. We’re not trying to create forgeries or be fraudulent; our goal is to stabilize the artifact without creating visual distractions. Sometimes it’s more work than using original materials.

We recently had to “fake it” while treating losses on an early 19^th century beehive. The hive is made of coils of straw bound together with flattened sapling “stitches.” Along a section of the lower edge, the sapling stitches were broken with part of each stitch missing and some of the original straw also missing (figure 1). We couldn’t use new saplings to stitch the straw back in place because then we would have to remove the original bit of sapling stitch remaining in each stitch hole, and we didn’t want to use new straw to replace the losses because it might be mistaken for the original.

Fake straw was made by cutting thin strips of Japanese tissue paper, wetting the strips, twisting them in to shape and drying them under tension. We made about 100 pieces of fake straw. After drying, the fake straw was adhered to the broken ends of the original straw along the outer edge of the coil. Additional fake straw was simply inserted into the core of the coil to provide bulk and approximate the original size of the coil. In Figure 2, you can see that some of the fake straw has been attached, and some is still on the table. Strips of sanded polyester film were adhered to the remaining pieces of sapling stitches to secure all of the original and fake straw into the shape of a coil.

The strips of sanded polyester film holding the coil together were disguised by small pieces of two-ply mat board that were cut and painted to match the appearance of the original sapling stitches. They were then adhered to the surface of the polyester film. In the close-up of Figure 3, you can see original straw and an original sapling stitch on the left and to the right is the fake straw and several fake sapling stitches.

When complete (figure 4), the strips of fake saplings stabilized the original straw to prevent additional loss of straw, and the fake straw gives the correct shape and support for the damaged coil. Once upright again, the beehive was ready for exhibition (figure 5). You can see the beehive in person in our Level 2 galleries.

Witch’s Brew

by Gaby Kienitz, Head Conservator

Conservators have all the trappings of a magical enterprise — a stock of arcane ingredients, “potions” that we mix up ourselves, tongue twisting phrases that we use and transformative powers on objects. Don’t believe me? Well, I might not have eye of newt or puppy dog tails, but I sometimes clean an object with my own spit; I’ve used things like fish skin glue and lamb intestine for repairs; and I regularly use an ethyl methacrylate methyl acrylate copolymer.

A cast iron tea pot before (above) and after (below) Gaby works her magic.

In order for the “magic” (a.k.a. work) to happen, a conservation lab needs lots and lots of ingredients and tools. There is such a huge variety of objects that come through the lab with such a range of problems, that a certain treatment might be performed only occasionally and thus only a small amount of a certain supply is needed. Sourcing just a little of these supplies can be a challenge. Imagine my dismay when I was missing a few milliliters of one crucial ingredient for the solution needed to treat a collection of cast iron cookware and fire dogs from Corydon Capitol State Historic Site that had been damaged by water leaking from a chimney. My magic wand was broken!

The ingredient I needed — phosphoric acid — is so common that I couldn’t imagine not finding it sold locally. It’s what gives some colas the “bright” taste, it’s a homeopathic medicine, brewers and hydroponic gardeners use it to lower the pH of their mash and water respectively, it can be used as a flux for soldering metals, and it’s used as a rust and hard water scale remover. Everyone I called either didn’t have it or didn’t have it in the pure form that I needed. It was hard to fathom that I would need to have it shipped from elsewhere, like a rare and precious commodity.

Fire dogs before (above) and after (below) conservation.

Just as I was about to give up, Tuxedo Park Brewers Supply came to the rescue with what I needed. I’m used to buying supplies from some interesting places, but theirs is at the top of my list. Their shop exterior is a brightly painted scene of orange and yellow wheat fields with a bright blue sky that you can only find by going down an otherwise drab, nondescript alley in Fountain Square. Yes, that’s right, their storefront is the alley.

This was a simple potion that I mixed for the treatment of the corroded cast iron, just some tannic acid and phosphoric acid. Tannic acid is a product that has been used since ancient times for making inks, in fabric dyeing and leather processing; it occurs naturally in tree galls, the bark of some trees and in tea leaves. It sounds scary, but it comes in the form of a fluffy, tan colored powder. Luckily, I had a whole bottle of tannic acid powder and once I mixed that with some de-ionized water, added a few drops of the phosphoric acid and heated it up, it was ready to be applied onto the surface with hog hair brushes. Through the magic of chemistry, the rust is converted to a stable, black colored corrosion layer. You can see for yourself what a few ingredients can do to change the appearance of some frightening looking objects. If you want to see them in person, you’ll have to visit Corydon Capitol State Historic Site.

TLC for museum collections

by Jeff Tenuth, Science and Technology Collection Manager

[Continued from The museum behind the museum]

The Indiana State Museum has the largest collection of artifacts in the state, numbering several hundred thousand items. With a collection that large, a museum has to have a way to manage the use and preservation of the collection. Museums no longer collect just anything that comes their way, like they used to decades ago. A century ago, museums in the modern sense didn’t exist. There were collections that the public could see, but they were more often curiosities or oddities rather than reasoned out collections that told their visitors something about their past. Outside of private collections, that kind of collecting is no longer done because it doesn’t serve the needs of the community. Resources are scarce and communities and funders want to know how their dollars are being spent. The public might come and see a collection of oddities, but they don’t want their tax dollars supporting it. The modern museum visitor wants collections that can teach their children about their past and their present. Over the years, museums have had to change their ways to ensure their survival in a competitive, economic, public environment.

One of the best ways to ensure a museum’s survival is by having a justified, goal-oriented mission statement and then carrying it out. The mission statement is followed by a comprehensive set of policies that carry out and enforce the mission. A mission statement is one or two sentences that explain the goals of a museum. Our mission statement [link] is simple: to collect and preserve the cultural and natural history of Indiana. But with such a large collection, how do we manage it?

The blog author in one of the museum's storage areas.

Most museums, including the Indiana State Museum, incorporate a Collection Management Policy. A Collection Management Policy is a group of smaller policies that define how we carry out the mission statement. The Collection Management Policy includes an acquisition policy (along with collection strategies), a de-accession policy (a way to remove items from the collection), a loan policy, an access policy, a conservation policy, a photographic reproduction policy, an ethics policy, etc. The acquisition related policies are the most complex. Each collection has to have its own collecting strategy. The use related policies tend to be shorter because they simply state how the collection will be loaned, used, photographed, etc. With collections in geology, paleontology, mineralogy, petrology, fossil plants, Ice Age mammals, modern mammals, birds, fish, insects, eggs, seeds, textiles, clothing, toys, art, decorative arts, military, televisions, radios, vehicles, paper, books, records and more, you can see how complex the acquisition policies were to create. But it doesn’t end there. Once you’ve determined what you are going to collect, then you have to decide how to use, and care for the collection.

Collections are used mainly for exhibits and for research. But even if a collection is seldom used in these ways, it still has value because the objects themselves speak to past lives and human accomplishments. If an artifact is to be used in an exhibit, then it must be inspected to make sure it can withstand the rigors of being moved and put on display. Then it has to be conserved before being exhibited to stop or reduce deterioration. If an artifact is used for research, then you have to have a way to vet the researcher to ensure the artifact remains safe during the process. But what happens if someone, or another institution, wants to borrow an artifact? Or what if your institution wants to borrow an artifact for an exhibit or for research? In that case you have loan policies that determine under what conditions you will loan or borrow artifacts. The Indiana State Museum’s policy is not to lend to individuals unless they are trusted researchers. We do lend artifacts to other institutions for research and for exhibit. If the loan is for exhibits, then we require the borrowing institution to fill out a Facilities Report that tells us about their environmental controls, their security and other factors about their institution. We use this report to determine if our artifacts will be safe at the requesting institution. Our goal with all these policies is not so much to restrict use of our collection but to ensure that whoever or however the collection is used, it remains safe for future generations to enjoy.

The museum behind the museum

by Jeff Tenuth, Science and Technology Collection Manager

I give a lot of tours at the Indiana State Museum. These are mostly “behind-the-scenes” tours, not gallery tours. Visitors can take themselves through the galleries, but behind-the-scenes tours offer much more.

When visitors come into the museum, they see galleries, attend programs, eat at the restaurants or shop at the museum store. They tend to think that’s all there is to a museum. But in reality, what they see is the end product. Most of the work for the galleries (and programs) is done behind the scenes and the public rarely sees any of it. Nor does the public see the actual size of our collection. The artifacts they see in galleries represent only one or two percent of our total collection. The larger the collection, the more of it is in storage. This is true in most museums. Take the Smithsonian for example. Their collection numbers well over 250 million artifacts. Imagine how big their galleries would have to be to show all of their collections. For a large museum like the Indiana State Museum, we show a few thousand artifacts at one time, but we have hundreds of thousands of artifacts in our collection. It’s simply impossible to put everything on exhibit — we would need galleries the size of football fields! That’s why it’s so important to show visitors and other guests what lies behind-the-scenes. I’ve never had a tour participant who didn’t walk away astonished at the size and breadth of our collection. Only then can the public see what a daunting task it is to care for the largest publicly held collection in the state. With a greater understanding of what the casual visitor doesn’t see, a tour guest usually comes away with a greater appreciation for the collection and what it takes to care for it.

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Another reason the public doesn’t see and doesn’t know about the size, diversity or location of the collection is intentional. We do that to maintain the security and environmental integrity of the collection. The collection is actually hidden in eight storage rooms in the Administration building, not the building where the galleries, restaurants and other public facilities are located. The eight storage rooms allow us to store the collection by type of material.

Searching for context

by Jeff Tenuth, Science and Technology Collection Manager

[Continued from What is this stuff?]

Digging at New Harmony's Dormitory #2

What do archaeological artifacts tells us? What do they mean? These are the most important questions a museum historian can ask. The reason is because if we don’t relate the past to the present, then our artifacts just amount to a lot of stuff without any real meaning. Without the relationship between the past and the present, then the past exists in isolation, without context and without meaning. In the case of New Harmony’s Dormitory #2, we’ve found thousands of artifacts that reflect the daily lives of people who lived and worked there between 1817 and 1940. This is why these artifacts are so important — because they tell us about people. What we find is that people then were just like people now — they worked, they played and they lived their lives with an eye on a better future for their families.

So who were these people and what were they like? The first settlement at New Harmony was founded in 1814 by George Rapp and his group of Lutheran separatists who had first lived in Harmonie, Pennsylvania, the previous decade. Believing that Jesus Christ would return in their lifetimes, their goal was to live a pure life that would prepare them for the Second Coming. With self-sufficiency necessary to survive in the wilderness, the Rappites bought 7,000 acres of land along the lower Wabash River and set about the task of creating a religious based utopian community. They established orchards, vineyards, farms and began to build the town that still exists today. Within the town they established a sawmill, a brickyard and various shops and businesses to serve the needs of their growing population.

Dormitory #2

One of the buildings the Rappites (or Harmonists, as they are sometimes called) built was a community building called Dormitory #2.  Dormitory #2 is the focus of our decade long archaeological dig. Built between 1817 and 1822, it was framed in heavy wood timbers and then finished out with bricks fired on the property. Dormitory #2 served as a community building for the Harmonists while also sleeping between 40 and 60 people on the first floor. As this was a celibate community, there was little concern with men sleeping in the same building as women. Discouraged with the lack of adequate trade with eastern cities, the Harmonists sold their community to Robert Owen in 1825 and returned to Pennsylvania.

Robert Owen was a Welsh social reformer and an early advocate of socialism and the community movement. His main goal was to continue the development of a utopian community with education as the basis rather than religion. During the next century, the building was used for many purposes. Its first use was as a school and Masonic lodge, both established in 1825. In 1826, the famous “Boatload of Knowledge” arrived and headquartered in the building. Organized by Robert Owen and William Maclure, scientists and educators traveled down the Ohio River to New Harmony in the winter of 1825 with the idea of organizing a utopian socialist community based on an educated population that placed the needs of the community ahead of the needs of the individual. The community failed for a variety of reasons and, in the late 1820s, Robert Owen deeded the entire town to William Maclure.

Maclure continued to use the building as a school but also set up a print shop, one of many that would exist in the building over the next several decades. At about the same time, a blacksmith shop, a carpenter shop and a shoe store were also established. By the 1830s, the building began to be used as a hotel and a rooming house. Prince Maximilian Neuwied, the German explorer and scientist, and a group of scientists even set up a laboratory in the building in 1832. Throughout the rest of the 19th century, various businesses moved in and out, constantly providing an array of shops and services for the town, including everything from taverns to churches to schools. Other businesses included a telegraph office, a post office and a Knights of Pythias Hall. Prominent local officials and businessmen also lived in the building from time to time before the building was sold to the state in 1940. Since that time, the state has used the building for a variety of purposes. Currently, we are renovating Dormitory #2 to accommodate a climate control system and an elevator. When the renovations are complete, there is no reason why the building won’t be around to welcome visitors for the next 200 years or more!

Of restaurants and museum artifacts

A theory about people and taste led me to see if I could find a connection between the kinds of activities or artifacts people enjoy at the museum and their favorite foods. After a bit of investigation, I don’t know that my theory necessarily holds any water, but I still think it’s fun to note their favorites and pass along a few Indiana State Museum staff picks.

	Gail Brown: Manager, Science Content Delivery ~ Indiana connection: Born and raised in Monon, Ind. ~ Favorite artifact or gallery: The atlatl in the Native American Gallery ~ Favorite event at the museum / time of year: Native American Dance Circle ~ Favorite restaurant: Bruno’s Pizza, West Lafayette
	Joanna Hahn: Manager of Arts and Culture Programs ~ Indiana connection: Born and raised in Madison County, Ind. ~ Favorite artifact or gallery: Kiddish Cup in Hoosier Way Gallery ~ Favorite event at the museum / time of year: Fall when we are the busiest with programs and there are a lot of fun things to do. ~ Favorite restaurant: Right now my favorite restaurant is Iozzo’s Italian on South Meridian. ~ Favorite homemade food: macaroni and cheese
	Michele Greenan: Curator of Prehistoric Archaeology ~ Favorite artifact or gallery: Native American Gallery and the beautifully incised archaic bone pins ~ My favorite time at the museum is late at night working in the clean lab against the lights of the canal. ~ My favorite restaurant in Indy is any Starbucks!
	Eric Todd: Science and Technology Program Specialist ~ Indiana connection: Graduated from Butler University in 2006 ~ Favorite artifact: Bobby Plump’s Milan High School basketball jacket ~ Favorite program: Summer Camps ~ Favorite local restaurant: Yats
	Carrie M. Miller: Science & Technology Program Developer ~ Indiana connection: Born in Rush county, Ind. ~ Favorite artifact or gallery: The natural history galleries including the R.B. Annis Naturalist’s Lab ~ Favorite event at the museum / time of year: GeoFest ~ Favorite restaurant or favorite homemade food: Pretty much anything prepared by my mom.
	Katherine Gould: Associate Curator of Cultural History ~ Indiana connection: Moved here to attend graduate school. Got a job and stayed. ~ Favorite artifact or gallery: 1970s popular culture wall in Global Indiana (bongs and bell bottoms!) ~ Favorite event at the museum / time of year: I’m a sucker for anything Christmas. ~ Favorite restaurant: Any Thai or Indian restaurant is my favorite. Spicy, spicy, spicy!
	Rachel Perry: Fine Arts Curator ~ Indiana connection: Raised in Bloomington, attended University High School and earned a bachelor’s degree at Indiana University ~ Favorite artifact or gallery: NiSource Gallery (where most of our art exhibitions are displayed), of course! Favorite painting is “Dairy Barn” by Robert Selby ~ Favorite event at the museum / time of year: Great Outdoor Contest at the T.C. Steele State Historic Site ~ Favorite restaurant: College Avenue Yats
	Katy Creagh: Museum Program Specialist ~ Indiana connection: Graduated from high school in Munster and went to Ball State University ~ Favorite artifact or gallery: The Bride & Groom fleas in Odd Indiana ~ Favorite event at the museum / time of year: The Indiana Art Fair and Arbor Day ~ Favorite restaurant: Cafe Patachou
	Mary Jane Teeters-Eichacker: Curator of Social History ~ Indiana connection: I was born on a farm west of Greenwood in Johnson County. ~ Favorite artifact or gallery: A pair of dolls given by a Civil War soldier to his daughters before he went off to camp, where he died a month later. ~ Favorite event at the museum: The Indiana Art Fair in February is always a wonderful blast of color and beauty in a cold, gloomy time of year. ~ Favorite restaurant: El Sol de Tala on East Washington Street serves the best Mexican food in Indiana!
	Kerry Baugh: Arts & Culture Program Developer ~ Indiana connection: Born and raised in Terre Haute, Ind. (Vigo County) ~ Favorite artifact or gallery: The entire Odd Indiana exhibit, limestone quarry and the handwritten John Mellencamp lyrics for “Jack & Diane” ~ Favorite event at the museum: Hard to choose, but Family New Year’s Eve is one great party! ~ Favorite restaurant: Market Bella Rosa in Terre Haute; Taste Café and the Donut Shop in Indy. ~ Favorite homemade food: Depends on the season, but right now – chili.
	Christa Petra Barleben: Arts and Culture Program Specialist ~ Indiana connection: Fort Wayne is my hometown ~ Favorite Artifact: Julia Graydon Sharpe’s Silk Ball Gown in the Crossroads of America Gallery. ~ Favorite Event: Pinewood Derby ~ Favorite Restaurant: Creation Café

We’d love to hear about your favorite event or exhibit at the museum. Comment below and let us know some of your Indiana favorites.



Eau de old stuff

 by Gaby Kienitz, Conservator

I have a secret to tell — historic artifacts smell. They often smell bad. When you get close and personal with historic artifacts like I do in the Conservation Lab, you realize they have odor issues. It’s not their fault. Dust, mold, bird droppings, mouse pee and, shall we delicately say, various “debris” from human use contribute to a potent olfactory cocktail. If I could bottle it to sell at the perfume counter it would be called “eau de old stuff.” But, I don’t mind, I’m used to the smell.

I’ve been lucky; I hear stories from friends at other museums about a collection of artifacts that smell of old cigarette smoke and even worse, a contemporary art object that smells of rotten flesh. I’ve never had to deal with objects that smell so bad they make you feel sick. This year, I hit the jackpot with artifact smells. Not because it was terrible, but because it was so very good. Enter the bee skep …

What is a bee skep exactly? Well, other than a hollow in a tree trunk (à la Winnie the Pooh), this is the traditional home of the honeybee. Those efficiently square bee boxes we’re familiar with today weren’t invented until the middle of the 19th century. For hundreds of years before, humans provided the humble, hardworking honeybee with a home that’s basically an upside-down coiled basket made of straw, held together with strips of tree saplings. After the bees move in, they create their own honeycomb, by building directly onto the inner walls of the skep.

Our bee skep is an exile from the Odd Indiana exhibit. It was intended to be part of the display of torturous farm tools, but was cut from the show several months before installation. It didn’t look like anything special when it was brought to the Conservation Lab. Heck, I didn’t even know what it was. But, when I leaned in to take a closer look at the interior, that’s when it hit me – the smell, that fabulous smell. The inside is glossy from a thin coating of wax and high on the inner dome of the skep are small hexagonal remnants of honeycomb. There is still a faint, warm smell of beeswax mingled with the sweet earthy smell of straw.

For the first time ever, I found myself wanting the smell from an object to linger. I’d love to spend my days with my nose up against the inside of the skep, making myself giddy with the smell, but then who would do the work? Although the skep was rejected from exhibition, I wanted to give it another chance. I’m hoping to have it placed on exhibit in the second floor main gallery in the summer of 2011. But, before it’s ready for exhibition it needs to be treated in the Conservation Lab; part of the lower coil on the skep has detached and there’s some straw missing.

Look for an update in the coming months on the treatment and installation of the bee skep. Until then, I’ll be keeping my nose to the skep … er …grindstone.

All photos by Anna Yu.

The Wabash Washboard

by Ange Albsmeyer, Indiana State Museum volunteer

I have been a volunteer in the Indiana State Museum conservation lab for about eight months. My job is to do some of the more basic tasks around the lab to help free up conservator Gaby Kienitz to work her magic in repairing, cleaning and restoring museum artifacts. I have vacuumed dust off of the sport coat Ernie Pyle wore to a meeting with Eleanor Roosevelt. I have photographed a 19th century floor sample coffin, cleaned stage props used by an acting troupe from the late 1800, and helped repair an 1830s quilt. And I’ve had fun doing all of it — and learned a lot about Indiana history along the way.

But my favorite project to date has been the restoration of the Wabash Washboard — a handmade, one-of-a-kind musical instrument used by Paul “Hezzie” Trietsch of the 1940s novelty band the Hoosier Hot Shots. The instrument will be featured in the upcoming Odd Indiana exhibit that opens on Sept. 4.

Hezzie’s washboard is more than just a rhythm instrument — he could play fairly complicated melodies with the attached horns and cowbells. If you watch the video “She Broke My Heart in Three Places,” at the end of the number you can see how skillful a musician Hezzie was on his Wabash Washboard.

From years in storage after hard use on stage and in the studio, some of the rubber bulbs on the horns were missing or needed replacement. The original duct tape holding the bulbs in place was slowly peeled off and preserved — parts of which may be returned to the instrument because it would look more authentic than using all new tape. The replacement orange bulbs looked too shiny and new next to the originals, so umber coloring was used to “age” them to blend in with the original horn bulbs.

I like to think that Hezzie would be pleased (and maybe a little amused) at all the work that has been put into bring his Wabash Washboard back to life. Oh, and though the instrument will never again be used on stage, the new bulbs have been tested and sound as good as new, too!

Finishing up at Yankeetown

Written by Michele Greenan, Natural History Collections Manager 

Although our dig is winding to a close, the work-pace picks up 10-fold! As with all digs, you end up finding all kinds of stuff at the end. It is one thing you can truly count on as an archaeologist. Working on the riverbank, Kara and I spent the day collecting various soil samples from each layer of the bank. It was particularly funny because Kara — our trusty registrar — thought she was coming out into the field to get away from paperwork. Ha!

Our goal at the riverbank was to bring together various points of research to get a good idea what the environment may have been like throughout prehistory (throughout the history of the banks development). We had all kinds of folks out to help, including geologists and soil scientists. The red and white pins were laid by geologist Ron Counts and mark general areas where we took soil samples. The small pegs at center are where we took our samples for pollen analysis. We were also able to take C/14 samples from some areas up the bank. All of these lines of evidence will hopefully help us reconstruct what this environment may have been like prehistorically.

Landside, the field school was making tremendous headway uncovering feature after feature. Burned posts in place, large pit features (maybe trash/food preparation?), burned soil, a cache of corn … everything indicating a thriving Yankeetown occupation at this location. Students map, photograph and excavate each feature and then screen the excavated soil for artifacts.

Don’t these pictures scream “I love archaeology!”