News – Oct/24/2009

October 24th, 2009

Revised website — whoop, whoop!
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News – Jan/02/2009

January 2nd, 2009

Happy New Year!

More to come soon… haha… The best of intentions, but to use a choice phrase from some British colleagues — “there’s too many bloody photographs.”

Where to start? Think I’ll leave the field notes section and just stick to News…

ARCE stands for the American Research Center in Egypt and runs a number of projects throughout the country, primarily with funding from USAID. Holding the concession for Khonsu temple at Karnak in Luxor, ARCE teams work on different projects focused around conservation and preservation at the temple and surrounding complex.

As ARCE photographers for the 2008 season, myself and Sara, the other ARCE photographer, shoot pretty much everything pertaining to the comings and goings at Khonsu. The fair explanation would be that Sara shoots a series of talatat blocks while I run around photographing everything else, from small flecks of gold no more than 3mm across, to large wall sections 20m by 10m. So far it’s involved scrambling up scaffolding, lots of creativity, imagination and patience. It’s also involved just plain getting dirty, so my inner 4 year old has been well satiated, and looks to continue to be so well into 2009.

The existing Khonsu temple dates to Ramses III, a new kingdom construction devoted to the child god Khonsu (son of the god Amun-Ra and goddess Mut). However, multiple inscriptions to subsequent rulers and high priests hint at different construction phases, while reused blocks in the bark sanctuary area date to Amenhotep III, providing clues as to how the temple was built and with what materials. The complete complex is roughly 70m long by 27m in dimension. To north lies the great temple of Amun, while a smaller temple built to the hippopotamus goddess Opet, borders directly to the west.

It appears many of the blocks used in Khonsu’s construction were borrowed and/or pillaged from other temples; those built under the reign of previous rulers. Thus blocks used in the foundation of Khonsu may have, in an earlier phase, belonged to a lintel on the west bank of the Nile dedicated to Amenhotep III. Figuring out what blocks come from where and what inscriptions they hold is of great interest to a team of epigraphers from Chigago House, working in conjunction with ARCE.

Egyptian temples are generally constructed to mimic a primordial creation myth — or so I’ve been told. Land rising from a swamp supporting the first means of human life, or perhaps in this scenario, sustained agricultural practices allowing a transition from hunter-gather societies. In addition to leaving mineral rich soil deposits suitable for crop production, the annual Nile flood inspired those who depended on it for life. Receding waters would leave a series of high ground islands on which temples were built, mimicking and paying tribute to the entire flood process. On entrance to any number of temples, one would find themself in an open air series of colonnades, full of light, extending upwards to the sky, signifying the present. On procession through the temple, space would gradually recede in scale, and the light in intensity, finally breaking into a series of small dark rooms at the heart, or back, of the complex. As one moved through the temple, they moved not only from front to back, open to closed, light to dark, but in time, from the present to the primordial origins of life. Or so the interpretation goes. How old are we again? And how do we measure that? One death, fossil records, rock, sun, moon? (The truth of the matter is that “we” — whatever you take/interpret “we” to be — can’t/don’t exist without out stories and myths… It’s part and parcel. Alexander had a handle on this when he arrived in 331 B.C. One doesn’t just rip everything down, and build from the ground up — one subverts, matches God for God, builds bridges between systems of worship, societies, and peoples, redefining the us/other relationship… But even then, divided up and cut into neat little sections, one section compared to another, but how does one, or perhaps, how do we, divide one thing, that through being that very one thing, is indivisible? And so the paradox reveals itself. The truth Ruth, begins with a “t”, but that “T” don’t mean jack without it’s 25 friends.)

Wall engravings, carved reliefs and statues within the temple generally depict, or establish which ruler built the temple as well as what god the structure is dedicated to. Additional carvings may record historical moments of significance within a specific pharoh’s reign. Unfortunately, or fortunately – depending on your position, time and place – the means of erasing a ruler who fell into disfavor, while at the same time establishing one’s dominance, consisted of chiseling off the engravings specific to said ruler, re-mortaring the surface, and then inscribing one’s own name and achievements.

In the late 60’s, French and American teams realized that many of the monumental pylons at Karnak had been built on the back of previous temples, ripped down and used as fill for these structures. What made the construction/deconstruction process relatively easy was the size and shape of a standard block. One “talatat” measures approximately 54cm by 30cm, or roughly the measure of full length arm by the distance from hand to elbow. When the initial temples were finished, large sections of wall were inscribed and painted with various scenes depicting rituals, daily life and offerings. Their subsequent deconstruction and reuse, unknowingly began the world’s first (and potentially) largest 3-dimensional puzzle; the first step in recreating the pylon fill facades being the logging, photographing and stacking of talatat blocks that continues to this day. Several sections have been successfully pieced together and are on display in the Luxor Museum, but there are many, many, more blocks that have yet to be excavated.

Initial estimates of the talatat blocks that Sara, and a team of conservators working on the project had to photograph and record were 16,000. Divided by the 9 month time frame for the project, it meant roughly 100 blocks a day, at approximately 10 minutes a block. Unfortunately logistics never work as smoothly in the mathematically arena as they do in reality, and this certainty coupled with multiple faces on a 1/3rd of the existing blocks (5000×2) as well as more than a few crumbling facades in need of a little “TLC” has made for a slower pace than anticipated. They’ve just broken 1000.

On the linguistic front, ancient Egyptian gets eerily similar to Japanese in the way Hirgana, Katakana and Kanji are combined to form written communication — thus there are set of symbols with one phonetic reading which remains consistent regardless of context, combined with pictogram derivatives, that have different contextual readings. The large wall section I’ve been shooting at Khonsu has a number of symbols I recognize but have no idea of meaning or reading. Perhaps in time…

In addition to the work done by Chigago House epigraphers and the talatat project there are 5 other projects (give or take) on the go revolving around Khonsu. Ed Johnson runs a field school training a cadre of egyptian conservators in temple evaluation and preservation techniques, while Dany Roy heads up a team of stone masons cutting block and reassembling broken sections in situ. Pam Rose digs holes in the floor and fills them them pretty consistently, and a team of Italian conservators have just arrived to clean two rooms in the back chapel.

I’ve been lucky enough to run around photographing pretty much everyone. It’s kept things even keel so to speak. Since arriving at the end of October I’ve done everything from macro shots of gold flecks about 2mm across, to large wall montages on the south pylon facade of Khonsu roughly 20m by 10m. In addition I’ve started shooting for the SCA (Supreme Council of Antiquities) on their recent excavations at Karnak as well as at Luxor temple on another ARCE project documenting salvage finds from sewer-line construction a few years ago.

Some of the work has been pretty challenging, and there are times I’m left scratching my head wondering about the best way to light a certain scenario, but at the same time these challenges are what make the work interesting. So far my favorite solution has been, flash-on-stick with the white underside of reflector shield used to bounce the flash and create high contrast relief lighting for inscribed surfaces. I’m not allowed to post anything I’ve been working on, but after the contract has finished and I’ve gotten written approval from the SCA there’ll be posts to the blog and updates to the portfolio section. My big hope is that ARCE will agree to let the Khonsu wall montages be published to the web using the same technology employed by google earth, thus allowing the viewer a comprehensive means of zooming in and out of the facades and really making the most of the resolution of the photographs…

Sara and I have wound up meeting a lot of other photographers working in the area. One of note is Yarko Kobylecky, who’s been affectionately dubbed the Obi wan Konobi of photography in Luxor (quite possibly all of Egypt) It’s like having a photographic great Uncle or Grandpa who comes along at all the right moments with all the right hints and suggestions. Although it’s never been voiced, at the heart of Obi wan Yarko’s teaching is creativity and imagination — transcend those limitations, and photographing at Khonsu becomes a game among games.

It’s been really nice to explore Luxor and Egypt with another photographer. Sometimes a little creepy how similar the thought process can be, and although we wind up with similar shots some of the time, there’s enough stylistic difference to make it complementary. There’s talk of a few projects/books in the works if we can ever find time away from work. Check out Sara’s work — she captures moments with the best of them, and her name leads me to believe she’ll be famous some day: www.saralafleur.com

In the months to come there will be lots more archaeological photography and it’ll be interesting to see what lies in store. At some point I’ll have the opportunity to teach a class on photography basics and the premise underlying archaeological photography. So yes, more to follow; periodic and thorough I hope  — I don’t find writing easy, but will try.

News – Oct/18/2008

October 19th, 2008

It’s been too long since the last update! A big thanks to Dale Paton at Monolith Digital in Edmonton for all his help getting the most recent changes made to the site. If you’re looking for specific images, there’s a neat little search tool from photoshelter on the info page under archive. I’ll be adding more and more material to this database as time permits, so check back when you can – regular prints, limited edition prints, and cards are available of any photo!

Currently headed off to work with the American Research Center in Egypt (ARCE) as a photographer on a Egyptian Antiquities Conservation Program (EAC) monitoring and conservation project at two temple complexes in Luxor. I’ll write all about the experience in a section called “Field Notes”. More to come soon.

Sakai-san II

September 2nd, 2008

Sakai-san is 78-years old.

Born in 1927, Namerikawa, Toyama, youngest of seven children and a second son.

“Ha—ha-ha-ha—.” A wheeze of a laugh, gap-toothed mug, purple hair and smiling eyes. “Didn’t have much money then, see, and if you don’t have money, you have children. They help out. More mouths to feed, but more people to help. Ha-ha—ha—ha—ha-ha . . . Yup, six older siblings, one brother, five sisters.”

“And Sakai-san is the youngest? Are any of his brothers or sisters . . .?”

“All passed away now. All dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear . . .”

Silence. A smile.

“What about their children? Nephews, nieces?”

“Sure. Must be some, but I didn’t really know them. Don’t go out to Namerikawa anymore now. Hard to get out there. Don’t really know them.”

Silence. And another smile.

Perhaps if Sakai-san weren’t senile, he wouldn’t forgive me — and then again, maybe he would. What’s remembered, what’s forgotten, conscious or not, are decisions that bound the realm of willpower and presence. What makes it all fit together is that Sakai-san’s lack of memory matches perfectly with my inability to comprehend. What doesn’t come the first time, comes the second, third, fourth, fifth . . . Something a little different revealed in each telling, a process of refinement leaving consolidated thought, rich, crystallized memories —not to mention the opportunity to pose the same question repeatedly. We both say the same thing, again and again and again. For a second, intent seems to preclude means, attaining a level of truth that is as quick to make its presence known as it is to vanish.

“Brother went to China, part of the military.”

“And Sakai-san . . .?”

“Never wanted to join the army, but had to. Eighteen years old when we entered the World War II. It was conscription — no choice. War is stupid, but it put money in my pocket. Foolish. Was working for a company at the time, and didn’t have much of a choice . . . Army base is where the university is now, can-you-believe-it — big garrison there, bunkhouses, the whole deal. [The] Americans fire-bombed us at night; they knew what was going on. Everything in the city [Toyama] burned. I remember, commanding officer sent me and another fellow out on an errand that night, out into the countryside, and when we came back, everything was gone — burned, leveled. Yup, I remember that . . . We knew what was going on too, though. A lot of families left their houses in the city, fled to rural areas. Yeah, I remember that.”

“And what about Sakai-san? Where are the children to help him?”

No children, never married, plenty of chances, though.

“Didn’t want to get married to someone a lot younger — nothing to talk about, not much in common. Imagine a 40-year-old marrying a 20-year-old. Used to happen, but not for me. No, the single life is better, I thought,” said with a sigh in the eyes.

“Living alone is sad, isn’t it?”

“The truth, yeah, it’s sad, it’s lonely. I talk to my cats and I work. Work is what makes my life fun . . .”

Sakai-san is senile, slightly or severely, perhaps somewhere in-between, like his split-level bifocals. Call it anterograde amnesia, short-term memory loss, a lack of lucidity, Alzheimer’s. Call it what you want, Sakai-san remembers who I am, but forgets questions he’s asked only a few seconds before, forgets what he’s doing in the middle of doing it, forgets whose pot is whose, and what’s in it -— genuinely surprised to find soup in the nabe he’s convinced is mine.

Sakai-san sells art.

“Got a list — all the big companies here in Toyama. I go to see the guy in charge, right to the top.”

Sakai-san sells art.

“Making a list —you know, big companies around Toyama, I go to see the guy at the top . . . It’s difficult sometimes. Have to take photos of what I’m selling. Can’t just take the original, now, can I — too heavy!”

Sakai-san sells art.

“Think 70,000 ¥ is expensive for a painting? It’s not. Tokyo people, they’ve got money. Might not even think twice about buying a picture this size . . . [gestures] Yaa, that’s where the money is. Here in Toyama, well . . .”

Sakai-san sells art.

“Hard to get down to Takayama now. That’s the furthest I’ll go.Transportation issue, really. Trains aren’t too good. Next year I’m thinking of stopping.”

Sakai-san III

September 2nd, 2008

It’s dark now when I get there . . .

Five-fifteen. But already dark, winter, soon December, soon snow. A moment of unrecognition, then the familiar gap-toothed smile . . .

“Ha, wow! Today I’m lucky. First my niece and her husband, and now you. I’m happy.”

I don’t catch it the first time ’round, focused on what appears to be the broken burner in Sakai-san’s hand.

“Not even a chair for you. Oh, here we are . . .”

The desk has disappeared from its usual position, and there’s more food around.

“My older brother’s daughter and her husband just came, brought me some food!” Sakai-san is sitting down to a healthy meal of rice and fish.

“Coffee, tea?”

“Ran out of canisters for the stove there. That’s the one you brought me, right?”

“I’m sorry, I should have brought more.”

“It’s useful; I just keep forgetting to buy more. Put memos inside my wallet, but still forget. You know, so when I’m going to pay for something, I’ll take money out and see the memo, but . . . always, I’m forgetting! Forgot to buy oil for the stove too! Ah – I’m an old man, always forgetting!”

Scattered around the room are some new large-sized books. Handsome foreigners in expensive suits grace the cover, and I ask Sakai-san if I can take a look. They’re old fabric sample books, and I realize he’s burning them to stay warm in lieu of the oil heater. On ignition, they burn a deep, dark smoke. Through it, I can barely see him, spitting up kernels of rice with words — one seems to slip out as easily as the other — but then again, Sakai-san doesn’t have many teeth to speak of.

“Ah, when you’re a single man, this is how you do things [burning fabric swatches]. They burn nice and hot. Keep me warm for a while.”

“Okay, but please be careful. Easy for other things to catch on fire this way . . .”

“Yeah, my niece and her husband come and visit me three or four times a year. Always bringing so much food! . . . I get by with the old-age pension money — every month, the post office delivers it here — but I want to move to Toyama city. I know there’s got to be some free places to live there, too; everyone’s always building new houses. I just want one of those old ones, in the middle of a rice field, a place someone will say, “Here you go. Live here, please — rent-free.”

I ask Sakai-san about the past again. “After the war, what did you . . .?”

“Oh, lots of things, but when my older brother got out of the army, I went with him and one of my sisters, and we sold medicine in other prefectures across Japan. It’s an old Toyama tradition, you know. Used to be tons of traveling salesman, and at the time, it was the easiest thing to do. But the money, it wasn’t good after a while. People only paid for what they used, [and gradually they didn’t use so much].

“So then . . .?”

“Then I went with my brother and worked as a traveling medicine salesman.”

“Oh, I see. And after that . . .”

“Oh after that, some other things. I worked for Fujikoshi-nachi [Toyama’s largest company] for a while. Made big long pipes and
tubes, parts for machines and such. And for a while, I sold clothes —tailored men’s suits — but that’s work for young eyes and hands. Get older and it’s no good. And always I liked the arts. Couldn’t draw worth a darn, but always liked the arts, ya . . . Went to Tokyo’s top art university for the graduating show and met with the head dean. He encouraged me to sell his students’ paintings, so I decided to switch jobs. But Toyama’s people are too low to appreciate that kind of art. Too expensive. If you talk to the people at the top, then it’s okay — but only the top guy, not even number two will do . . . Left my card and lots of photos with Toyama Prefecture’s governor, but he’s always out when I call . . .”

“When you sleep, do you remember your dreams?”

“No, don’t need to. I don’t dream. Don’t have anything to worry about, so nothing to dream about. I’m living a relaxed life, not too many stresses. Ha—ha-ha-ha-ha.”

Sakai-san Closure

September 2nd, 2008

In May 2007, I went back to visit Sakai-san.

House boarded up, front room barricaded, entrance padlocked shut. Cats meowing loudly from somewhere close, but no Sakai-san. In our last conversation, there was mention of subsidized housing in the city. He’d been denied the first time; wasn’t allowed to declare his old age pension as a source of income to pay rent, but now, perhaps . . .

I tried looking through the glass, afraid of what I might find.

Had he died? Did he move out? Housing projects? On the road selling art? No neighbours, no family, no memories.

I came back a month later to the same situation, said a few words, made my peace, and drove away.

The Bedouin Experience

May 6th, 2008

It is not even midday yet, but the sun beats down regardless – it’s hot. From the sway of a camel’s back, a desert landscape emerges: sand dunes carved from wind; stunted broken trees scattered scarcely about, blue, blue sky, no hint of clouds. Here in the middle of Oman’s Wahiba Sands – a series of 250-kilometre-long golden-red sand dunes that run north-south – my thoughts have turned to water and Wilfred Thesiger. One can only imagine how this intrepid British explorer, who lived amongst Oman’s Bedu during the ‘50s and ‘60s, and wrote about their nomadic lifestyle in Arabian Sands, survived such harsh conditions. Back at the Nomadic Desert Camp, Abdullah Al-Mughairy offers an explanation: “No AC, no cold water, just warm water, a little bit, sip-sip – [you] get used to it.” In other words, without jumping from extremes, one becomes acclimatized and adapts, as Thesiger did, to the conditions dictated by environment. Unfortunately, I’ve only been in the desert for a day.

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A stable, thriving country on the east coast of the Arabian Peninsula, Oman might be better known through tales of Sinbad the sailor, or from the mention of frankincense borne by three wise men of biblical renown. Although developing oil interests later than neighbouring Saudi Arabia and the UAE, Oman has proved itself a fast learner, with the ability to manifest change within mere decades. Before 1970, the country had only two primary schools, next-to-no hospitals, and was in a state of civil unrest. It now boasts locally-run hospitals, government-funded universities and vocational colleges, a vibrant economy, well-maintained infrastructure, and electricity that reaches even the remotest of mountain villages.

No wonder, then, there is a healthy respect and admiration for Sultan Qaboos, the man behind the reforms, who travels the country annually in a “meet-the-people” tour, and has proved himself a distinguished peacemaker in the international arena. There’s a sense of pride reflected in the faces of Oman’s population, from elders in a small fishing village who enjoy universal healthcare, to the smiles of their grandchildren, for whom tertiary education is now not only free, but encouraged.

Oman is no fool when it comes to resources, and although “peak oil” is a hotly contested subject, economic diversification has already proved an important strategy for a country that had limited supplies to begin with. An average of one million tourists visit the country annually already, and development is in the works all along the coast. Aiming for the tuna of tourists, the goal is to lure a wealthy clientele with luxury hotels built on prime ocean real-estate. But surely a Sultan with a demonstrable commitment to the environment recognizes what has been an increasingly global shift to ecotourism over the past 5 years? If the next-door, Middle East Conference on Sustainable Ecotourism Development held this past January was anything to go by, the answer would be yes. But whether smaller-scale community-based initiatives receive as much support as their luxury-styled brethren remains to be seen. Oman’s opulence is not outshone by its smarts though, and it wouldn’t be surprising to observe the development of both over the coming years, especially if the country continues to balance a tolerance of foreign customs and values, while at the same time showcasing its own heritage – something it seems to have managed admirably already. Wealth lies not only in luxury resorts, but also in enriching cross-cultural interactions encouraging visitors to “learn while at play.”

Back in Wahiba Sands, the Nomadic Desert Camp offers guests the opportunity to do just that, relaxing in a Bedouin environment while learning about the culture. For the Al-Mughairy family, what started off as an occasional service for ex-pats living in the Muscat of the 1980s has now turned into a successful business catering to tourists from all corners of the world.

“I want to show people what life was like before,” explains Rashid, 32, the eldest brother of an eight-sibling family, and de-facto manager of a business that supports and involves almost every family member. He adds, “I’d like to show the spirit that exists in the desert – of helping each other and of welcoming strangers into our homes.” Since opening for tours officially in 1999, Rashid has helped his father grow the business through a strong word-of-mouth connection, as well as some smart networking. In addition to the traditional Bedouin-style camp, the family organizes desert crossings and tailors trips according to client requests – from one day, to two weeks – enhanced by relationships with English, German and Swiss agencies specializing in unique travel experiences. The trick has been to keep a local focus while building a steady clientele of repeat customers. “I love to meet people from different cultures,” explains Rashid. “To shake their hand at the end of a stay and hear about their experiences – that’s important.”

Apparently a mind reader as well as adept desert navigator, my guide for the day, Sultan (the 3rd son) pauses to magically produce a water bottle from camel-bag. Thirst quenched, we dismount and give the camels slight reprieve from their cargo while making our way down off the dune. Shade under an Acadia tree on one of the flat, hard-packed corridors that separates dune from dune provides shelter, and Sultan is soon preparing a traditional Bedouin meal. First, coffee laced with cardamom is boiled over an open flame and accompanied by dates. A simple flat bread is made next: flour, water and a touch of salt kneaded together, baked in a pot, then torn into pieces and soaked in milk. Apples round out the meal, leftovers are given to the camels, and the fire easily buried. We rest for an hour and give the sun a chance to move over in the direction of clouds that have appeared on the horizon, then make our way back to camp.

As the sun sets on Barasti (palm frond) huts, guests gather in a communal open-faced Arabian Majlis for tea and relaxation before the evening meal. As one might expect in a desert camp modeled on the Bedouin experience, not all amenities are available. There are showers, but no hot water, and once the sun has set, the only light to be found is in the glow of lanterns and the moon overhead. Dinner is served to an eclectic group of guests, including the German Ambassador and his wife, travelers from Austria and Germany, as well as Dutch and French ex-pat families from Muscat. As the stars begin to peek out, we enjoy halwa, a traditional Omani dessert made from dates, saffron, cardamom, almonds, nutmeg and rosewater, boiled in a huge copper vat, and stirred for hours. Then we retreat to the campfire or retire for the night after a thoroughly enjoyable glimpse into Bedouin life.

He Digs Adventure in the Desert

March 9th, 2008

Freelance: Canwest News Service
March, 09, 2008

Tish Prouse would be the first to admit that his interest in archaeology stems from a boyhood love of Indiana Jones.

But the Edmonton native had no idea his interest would one day lead him to Turkmenistan, a Central Asian country of brutally hot summers, bitterly cold winters and a pockmarked landscape that invites comparisons with the moon.

So why is he here? The answer is Merv, an ancient city along the Silk Road that was once a thriving metropolis, one of the largest and most important in the region for over 2,500 years.

Little remains of it today, mostly depressions, lumps and rubble. But beneath this desolate landscape, you can find “buildings, industrial complexes, mausoleums, minarets, streets, markets, and houses,” says Prouse.

In other words, it’s an archeologist’s dream and part-time home to this graduate of Strathcona Composite High School.

Prouse candidly acknowledges that his childhood interest in archeology comes from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, the adventure movie starring Harrison Ford.

He earned a B.A. in archeology from the University of Alberta, then a master’s degree in archeology from the University College of London in England, and that in turn led to an invitation to join the research at Merv.

From his studies he also picked up some “important” tips. Prouse winks: “The first year in university when I started seriously studying archaeology, my professor said the three things one had to do to become a good archaeologist were: get a good hat, show an appreciation for scotch, and smoke high quality cigars while excavating.”

For Prouse and other archeologists, the interest in Merv lies in its fan-belt location in the Kara Kum Desert. Fed by the Murghab River, which flows down from the Pamir mountain range in Afghanistan, a succession of cities were built on separate sites extremely close to one another.

First came the fortress citadel of Erk Kala, later expanded to the city of Gyuar Kala, in turn abandoned for the city of Sultan Kala. Collectively, these cities are referred to as Ancient Merv.

The fact that Merv encompasses three distinct cities makes it huge, coming in at a combined total of just over 600 hectares. The archeology remaining at the site is vast.

As Prouse points out, “If the funds were available, you could employ 10,000 separate teams, with a core of 20 workers all doing their own section, and they wouldn’t get in each other’s way.”

The trench where Prouse is working has already yielded much of interest — along with a few prerequisite snakes, there is evidence of a Mongol sacking and the skeletal remains of an old woman with two youths trapped below a collapsed mud-brick wall.

But the most interesting aspect of Prouse’s trench lies in a canal system and series of pipes discovered over the past two field seasons.

“What you’ve got is an amazing system of pipes which twist and lock together, fitted with resin to keep water from seeping out of the seams. Not only that, but the clay itself is ridiculously solid, so even when it’s buried and under pressure, it still functions properly.

“These locking systems are incredibly similar to what we use with modern PVC tubing, sealed to maintain air pressure. Even with a minimal amount of water the same pressure is maintained in these 1,000-year-old clay pipes and they won’t cave in.”

This is the first time a functional water management system has been uncovered at Merv, and the discovery raises many questions about the technology used to build it and what the pipes were for — perhaps providing fresh water or removing waste.

“The thing I enjoy about my job,” says Prouse, “is that like Indiana Jones, there is a certain amount of adventure. I’m thrown into situations where most normal people don’t go, I interact with locals on a different level, I explore places people haven’t seen in a thousand years.”

But the real treasure lies in understanding how a city was built and functioned, and that’s what Prouse’s excavations at Merv seek to contribute.

“Unlike Indiana Jones, the serious aspect of academic research is teaching, researching, talking to colleagues, and documenting evidence. It’s not just walking into a temple and taking out the long-lost relic.”

“One has to record as much information as possible so that other scholars can come back to the same place and use your evidence to draw new research insights into how humanities evolved and functioned.”

The Lost Oasis of Turkmenistan: Ancient Merv and the Silk Trade Routes

January 15th, 2008

Relic or Ruin?
The Lonely Planet describes Turkmenistan as “a lunar landscape with craters of cultural activity… resembling an Arab Gulf State without the money”. The city of Merv is detailed as, “a lumpen landscape, scarred with ditches and channels, grazed by camels and dotted every now and then with an earthwork mound or a battered sandy-brick structure.” In contrast. The Bradt travel guide, written by former British Ambassador Paul Brummell, introduces Turkmenistan as “a remarkable place,” and Ancient Merv as “one of the most important oasis cities of the Silk Road… among the major archaeological sites of Central Asia.” But two’s a tie, so who better to turn to than former Merv resident and13th century Islamic geographer Yaqut, who remarked, “verily but for the Mongols I would have stayed and lived and died there [Merv]. Hardly could I tear myself away.” Perhaps there’s credence in both guidebook descriptions; Turkmenistan – and Merv in particular, it would seem – has seen its share of turmoil. Indeed, for a country less than 16 years old, host to this intriguing city with a 2,500-year history, one could expect nothing less.

An old republic under the Soviet regime until the breakup of the USSR in 1991, Turkmen-i-stan – literally, place of the Turkmen – has seen scores of empires, as can be traced through the archaeological record at Merv. At times a fortress citadel-outpost, at others a capital and administrative centre, Merv’s form and function has waxed and waned through the centuries. Military strong post at the frontier of major campaigns, capital to empires, revolutionary staging ground, independent city-state – Merv has seen it all.

A Brief History
With an empire stretching from Turkey to India, and Central Asia to Egypt, Achaemenians – the first royal dynasty of Persia unified under Cyrus the Great in 6th Century B.C. – were also the first to develop a significant military and trading presence at Merv. Alexander the Great swept through the region en route to the Oxus (Amu Dayra) and India, but upon premature death, his short-lived empire’s eastern territories soon became part of the Seleucid Dynasty. A loosely linked Parthian Empire followed next, overthrown by the Sassanians in 226 A.D, who ruled for a period of roughly 400 years until the arrival of Islam in the form of Arab armies circa 651. Rising to prominence as an eastern capital under the Seljuk Empire, Merv grew to be one of the largest cities in the world, encompassing 550 ha. In 1221, rumour holds that Mongol armies circled the outer defenses for six days looking for a weak point before negotiating entrance, only to ransack and burn the entire city while slaughtering it’s citizens – tribute to a gruesome feud-gone-wrong between Khwarizmshah Mohammed and Genghis Khan. Timurid influence saw the city of Abdullah-Khan Kala built south of the ruins in 1409, and in the 16th century, Uzbek Turks ruling from Bukhara took control of the city before it was incorporated into the Persian Empire of the Safavids up until the 1730’s. In the mid-19th century, Merv gained independence from the Qajar rulers of Iran and became an autonomous state, minting it’s own currency, but in 1890, the city, along with much of modern-day Turkmenistan, was conquered by the Russians – a strategic maneuver played out in the “Great Game” of colonial expansion into Central Asia. Russian archaeological interest in the area was maintained after WW II, but collective farms soon encroached on former city suburbs, and parts of Merv were used for military training and artillery firing grounds. Perhaps the Mongols are not the only ones to blame for Merv’s pockmarked appearance. To this day, there is still a small, if not somewhat forlorn, military base maintained by two soldiers and a rather over-zealous dog – remnants of a helicopter base that launched Soviet assaults into Afghanistan throughout the 1980’s.

Urban Archaeology
As Canadian archaeologist Tish Prouse can attest, a surface glance at Merv may seem to fit the Lonely Planet description, but under, and often inside, the lumpen landscape, myriad stories lie waiting to be revealed.

“What appear as lumps, depressions, rubble – under those lie buildings, industrial complexes, mausoleums, minarets, streets, markets, houses, you name it – it’s even rumored one of the first Islamic observatories is out here somewhere.”

While completing a Masters in Archaeology at The University College of London, Prouse became involved with the Ancient Merv Archaeological Project, and for the past three years has excavated on-site at the North gate of Sultan Kala. But even though the British-lead team has worked in conjunction with Turkmen authorities since 1992, the amount of archaeology remaining at Merv is mind-boggling.

“ To get an idea of how cities and urban populations interacted with each other, in and of themselves along the silk roads – you have my team, who have been excavating for three seasons using proper recording methods and accurate documentation of finds – and we’ve done 5mx3mx6m. The site is 11.5 km2 – and that’s just the city proper – it doesn’t include the outer lying subdivisions north and south, or the nearest waypost 5km out. The whole oasis is dotted with little things that survived from the hub of this city. If the funds were available, you could employ 10 000 separate teams, with a core of 20 workers all doing their own section, and they wouldn’t get in each-others way! “

With UNESCO World Heritage status for Merv in 1999 came a push for the preservation and protection of existing mud-brick structures. The conservation efforts also called for proper practices and the cleaning up of numerous trenches left open to erosion. Scars in the landscape, it seems, can also be attributed to hurried excavations, improperly documented with little or no time spent back-filling; in short, find-oriented archaeologists whose vision was caught up in the details, without understanding the bigger picture. Prouse’s current excavation is of the remedial kind, properly recording archaeological data in a trench dug with a bulldozer, then left open to slump with wind and rain.

“The Soviets had great training as far as history and well-rounded approaches, but unfortunately there was negligence in keeping important parts of the site up to an acceptable standard. There were problems ensuring artifacts were from the right levels, or, for that matter, that they were present after the dig, and a discrepancy in taking care of things valued as prize items, such as gold pieces, versus things that weren’t valued as items of any interest, such as animal bones. Depending on what questions one is answering, all of this information is very important. With archaeology under the old Soviet regime the focus on finding ‘stuff’ outweighed understanding what was there. They weren’t treasure hunters per se, they were finding out lots of things about pottery and stratigraphy, but at the end of the day – if they didn’t find anything of ‘value’ – then they didn’t have a very good archaeological excavation.”

A quick jaunt through the stratigraphy of the North Gate trench reveals some intriguing tales. Five or six packed mud-earth projectiles in the vicinity of a collapsed wall support historical accounts of a Mongol sacking. So does the distinct burn layer that runs beneath the wall, and the skeletal remains of an old woman with two juveniles trapped below. Further down, the sequential interplay of fired and mud brick suggest a city in constant flux; buildings buttressed and adjoined in some sections, only to be knocked down and rebuilt in others. But the most interesting aspect of Prouse’s trench lies in a canal system and series of pipes discovered over the past two field seasons.

“What you’ve got is an amazing system of pipes which twist and lock together, fitted with resin to keep water from seeping out of the seams. Not only that, but the clay itself is ridiculously solid, so even when it’s buried and under pressure, it still functions properly. These locking systems are incredibly similar to what we use with modern pvc tubing, sealed to maintain air pressure – even with a minimal amount of water the same pressure is maintained in these 1000-year-old clay pipes and they won’t cave in.”

What this indicates is a sophisticated system of water management and regulation. Clean water was undoubtedly important to the practice of Islam, but the depth of the canal and certain pipe systems may pre-date Islamic occupation, and challenge currently held beliefs about who lived where, and when.

“Depending on who you talk to, and where you’re standing, this canal could be the main water conduit distributing water to the city, or the main conduit taking all the sludge out of the city,” explains Prouse.

“This is the first time at Merv we’ve uncovered a fully functional water management system, used over a period of time, that includes both fresh-water and sewage elements. It’s known the Romans had an amazing system of aquaducts and hydraulics which used pipes – not only clay pipes, but lead pipes – so a 1000 years before what we’ve uncovered here, it’s clear that in another part of the world there’s water pipes and technology. It’s nothing new, but what is new, is that this explains how the Turkic and Islamic dynasties ran this city – what ideas they had about providing fresh water and removing waste.”

A system of siphoning clean water to local neighborhoods? Sewage disposal networks? Whatever the function, the pipes and their relation to the canal leave many puzzles to be solved.

Prouse elaborates. “The more intensely one excavates and looks at the interaction of canals and architecture, one finds that over time, they in fact change function. At one point this was very clearly a fresh water canal, as evidenced by iron compounds on the side of the banks, indicative of algae growth when cleaning water from basic biological sludge. Later on, it’s a brick lined canal full of waste debris. In a period of 500 years, the canal system has changed, and with that change, one finds a whole series of different architectural components: a change in pipe systems, their size, quality and construction, as well as the construction of the canal – mud bank versus brick lined. “

The True Treasure
Although mainstream media continues to cast-type archaeologists as action adventurers a la Indiana Jones, urban excavations of earth-fired pipe can prove just as alluring as a “Kingdom of Crystal Skulls.” The real treasure lies in understanding how a city was built and functioned, and that’s what Prouse’s ongoing excavations at the North Gate seek to contribute.

“I got into archaeology because of Indiana Jones, because I watched the Last Crusade,” quips Prouse.

“The first year in University when I started seriously studying archaeology my professor said the 3 things one must do to become a good archaeologist were: get a good hat, show an appreciation for scotch, and smoke high quality cigars while excavating! “

“What’s funny is that there are many archaeologists across the world that have views about what is, and what is not, an archaeologist – but Indiana Jones is a great way to bring something which many people find dull and drab into the forefront of an exciting lifestyle. The thing I enjoy about my job is that like Indiana Jones there is a certain amount of adventure. I’m thrown into situations where most normal people don’t go, I interact with locals on a different level, I explore places people haven’t seen in a 1000 years. But unlike Indiana Jones there is a serious aspect of academic research – one spends hours upon hours in the library researching and doing laboratory analysis. It can be a mundane process: teaching, researching, talking to colleagues, documenting evidence – it’s not just walking into a temple and taking out the long lost relic. One has to record as much information as possible so that other scholars can come back to the same place and use your evidence to draw new research insights into how humanities evolved and functioned.”

With an open trench to finish the following season, and an abundance of areas left to record, fill and explore on-site, Prouse hopes to return in future seasons, discovering more about the canal systems at play in Ancient Merv, and spreading light on one of Turkmenistan’s archaeological jewels.

News – Jan/14/07

January 14th, 2008

I’m off again. Following my heart to Oman, and bringing along the cameras to shoot a piece on the Wahiba sands for Serendib Magazine. Should have much better access to email this time round, and will most likely pick up a SIM card in Oman. Will be back Mid-march and from there we’ll see where things lead… Until then, all the best.