The new British Archaeology, which went live online today (February 8), reports significant new discoveries near Stonehenge, among them the grave of a man who might have seen the earliest megaliths erected at the site.
Cremated remains of over 100 people were buried at the first Stonehenge, from 3100BC – the largest cremation cemetery in prehistoric Britain. Human remains of this age are otherwise rare in the world heritage site, or across Britain as a whole. So it is noteworthy that the man buried at West Amesbury, who was not cremated, probably saw funerals at Stonehenge quite different to his own.
Five pits in the chalk contemporary with the henge’s origins contained huge amounts of artefacts. These include quantities of Peterborough pottery, in large fresh sherds, all in the Fengate style (one of these pits has more pottery in it than the whole of prehistoric Stonehenge).
Hitherto, discussions about the people who were buried at Stonehenge – were they part of an elite? – have been one-sided, with evidence only from the site. For the first time, these pits bring another part of the early Stonehenge community into the picture – the people who did things, and were buried, elsewhere. Were they the people who cut the trees to make the pyres for the select few to be cremated and buried at Stonehenge?
The finds were made in the first stage of a major Historic England project to better understand the southern part of the Stonehenge world heritage site, little investigated in modern times.
Other discoveries include the remains of two men, one buried shorty after the other around 1450–1300BC, at the bottom of a ditch just south of Stonehenge. The ditch is part of a network of boundary earthworks that divided up the land around Stonehenge, apparently for the first time, in the middle bronze age. It runs north-south more or less at right angles to the A303, showing that in the bronze age at least, that east-west route did not exist. The road was created by the Amesbury Turnpike Trust about 250 years ago.
More details in British Archaeology. The digital magazine can be viewed now. Council for British Archaeology members and subscribers will be receiving their magazine in the post, and it will be in the shops on Friday.
All pictures Historic England (I’ve simplified the map a little). The painting is copyright Judith Dobie.
I was down at Larkhill this morning to visit a large excavation. The Ministry of Defence is building a new housing estate for soldiers and their families, and Wessex Archaeology has found all sorts of interesting things, among them the edge of a new causewayed enclosure, which you’ll be able to read about in the new British Archaeology, out next week.
It was cold, and there’d been a hard frost. Early at Stonehenge you could see scoring in the turf running parallel to the edges of the Avenue earthwork, most clearly between its banks, but also outside them. It’s a curious effect. The Stonehenge Riverside project excavated grooves that run like this in the soil, and interpreted them as natural periglacial structures left over from the ice age, that – because they are aligned on the solstice axis – were partly responsible for where Stonehenge is: neolithic people saw the grooves pointing at the rising midsummer sun and thought, this is where we want to build Stonehenge!
Meanwhile, Tim Darvill and colleagues think the grooves are relatively modern wheel ruts. Their respective evidence is summarised in this diagram. Area 8 (enlarged at left) is a geophysics plot showing lines within the Avenue but not quite parallel to the ditches; these, say Darvill et al, are wheel ruts.
Trench 45 (enlarged right) is the Riverside team’s excavation in 2008. The periglacial stripes, they say, are deeper than many others recorded in the local chalk, and much deeper than the cart tracks which they agree with Darvill et al are what we can see in Area 8. They think there are natural ridges (blue) and a trench (green) on the exact alignment of the Avenue close to Stonehenge, and it all adds up to a “remarkable coincidence of a geological landform on a solstitial axis”.
I’m not totally convinced by any of this. The alignment coincidence seems too remarkable to me, at least without more evidence to back it up (which would include a full understanding of exactly what these alleged geomorphological features are, how and when they formed, and why they are where they are). And if the grooves in Trench 45 are periglacial stripes, could it be that they are bigger than normal because the area within the Avenue was less ploughed up in recent centuries – which would account for the slight doming effect of the Avenue relative to the surrounding land? On the other hand, the interpretation of the geophysical lines as wheel ruts needs to be supported by excavation. Unsurfaced tracks across chalkland do not typically develop regular, parallel ruts to match the grooves we see in the geophysical surveys.
Down at Larkhill, they’d exposed a nice area of periglacial stripes. These are distinctively narrow, close together, long and thin (running downslope from top left to bottom right):
As always, at Stonehenge as elsewhere, fieldwork throws up as many questions as it answers: but the new questions are better ones.
“Stonehenge, Wiltshire, UK: High resolution geophysical surveys in the surrounding landscape, 2011”, by Timothy Darvill, Friedrich Lüth, Knut Rassmann, Andreas Fischer & Kay Winkelmann, in European Journal of Archaeology 16 (2013).
“Stonehenge’s Avenue and ‘Bluestonehenge’”, by Michael J Allen, Ben Chan, Ros Cleal, Charles French, Peter Marshall, Joshua Pollard, Rebecca Pullen, Colin Richards, Clive Ruggles, David Robinson1, Jim Rylatt, Julian Thomas, Kate Welham & Mike Parker Pearson, in Antiquity 90 (2016)
It had been pretty quiet in Stonehenge media land. We had an excavation at Durrington Walls in August that got a bit of attention. This was thin stuff compared to the coverage given last year to the geophysics sensation that the dig overturned, though what we now have is far more significant (and so features in the new British Archaeology).
Then suddenly within a few days of each other in early October, two stories took off, and people were asking me what was going on? I had no idea, so it’s taken me a bit of time to catch up behind the scenes. This is what I found. (Quick summary. What was going on? Nothing much.)
Let’s start with the tunnel. Secret excavations. Solstice sunset view ruined. The government wants to concrete it over. The whole purpose and meaning of Stonehenge destroyed… A blog on October 6 set off an explosion of online indignation. Why didn’t I know about this?
The blog was by Tim Daw, the man who built a neolithic burial mound in north Wilshire for the recently departed. He noticed people excavating south of the A303 at Stonehenge. He drove down a byway to have a look, and realised the site was in line with the setting midwinter sun as seen from the monument. The dig meant “where the western tunnel portal will be has been decided”. The portal, being in line with said event, means the sun, dropping big and red through the centre of Stonehenge in late December, will be drowned out by street lights.
Heritage Action put it like this: “Hard to believe, but true. Even though Historic England, English Heritage and the National Trust say they are committed to ensure that ‘only schemes which protect and enhance the World Heritage Site are progressed’ it has just been revealed that Wessex Archaeology are secretly test digging at the very spot where the entrance to one version of the route would be and it’s at the very place where it would do maximum damage to the significance of Stonehenge.’ They could have said that as HE, EH and the NT want to protect and enhance the world heritage site, it’s unlikely they would’ve wanted the tunnel portal there. But where’s the fun in that?
The BBC turned it into this headline: “Stonehenge solstice sunset view ‘will be ruined by tunnel’.”
Stonehenge Alliance went ballistic on Twitter and Facebook, looking like the archaeological wing of Donald Trump’s social media campaign. They even got Tom Holland in a photo holding up their new leaflet (above), which features misleading imagery worthy of Putin-supporting trolls. Please, Tom, tell me this was a set-up job?
There can’t be many who don’t know a road tunnel may be built at Stonehenge (past, not under). But, notwithstanding all the fuss, no one knows anything about it. That’s because a decision to build a tunnel has not been taken. Its route is not known. Where the entrances might be has not been decided. Nor has how many lanes of road there would be, which brand of wine will be cracked at the opening or if anyone will be allowed to set up strawberry stalls inside it. Remember all this whenever you hear someone complain about what the tunnel will do. They’re making it up.
The place to go for what we do know is Highways England. This huge organisation is not brilliant at communication. An expected press announcement seems to be stalling from one week to the next. But it’s the best we have, so worth listening to.
There’s no question that Highways wants to upgrade the A303 as it passes Stonehenge. Its vision is “to make the A303 a free-flowing expressway, allowing mile-a-minute journeys.” Stonehenge, Amesbury and Berwick Down is one of nine schemes to effect this, with an estimated cost of £864–£1,321m – the huge range there (nearly half a billion pounds) is a hint as to how much is still undecided. The project timeline for Stonehenge begins in 1989, and ends, “to be confirmed 2020: Start on site”.
There’s not much more to say, but what there is is significant. From the timeline:
2015–2016 Route identification
TBC Early 2017 Have your say: public consultation on all route options
TBC Summer 2017 Announce our preferred/recommended option
TBC 2018 Submit planning application
So all this stuff about portals and midwinter sunsets is premature. Currently routes are being identified – not decided on (the picture above showing proposed routes is from my earlier blog on the topic). There will be a public consultation next year. The decided route then has to get planning consent, when there will be more opportunity for scrutiny. If I was an objector, I’d wait until next year. At least I’d know what it was I was objecting to, always a help in these things.
Why were archaeologists digging in a field south of Stonehenge?
Highways needs its plans to be approved by Icomos (a conservation outfit that advises Unesco). Put another way, Icomos probably also cares about where a tunnel portal might be, and my guess is it will probably ask Highways. It’s tough in road planning, but I don’t think Highways would be able to secretly put a tunnel portal just where the sun sets at midwinter. The eagle-eyed people at Icomos would notice.
To put its case to Icomos, Highways needs evidence, which includes descriptions of what survives of archaeological interest below the soil. To get this, Wessex Archaeology was contracted to conduct yet another evaluation. In this particular case thirty trenches were dug over a wide area south of the A303. If each trench was a sign of where a tunnel would end, we’d have a portal that reached half way across the world heritage site. And note that “evaluation” is not the same as “excavation”: the idea is to dig down until you come to undisturbed remains, and then stop. Done well, little if any archaeology is touched.
So if we don’t know if or where a tunnel will happen, how can it be said that it threatens “our chance of piecing together the jigsaw to explain why Stonehenge was built”? This is what David Jacques said when he was quoted in the Guardian. His concern is with the portal at the other end, to the east, where he thinks it will damage the site of his excavations at Blick Mead. All evidence to date suggests that a tunnel wouldn’t be anywhere near the site (see map above), so why the fuss?
David’s colleague Andy Rhind-Tutt, chairman of Amesbury Museum and Heritage Trust, says “Blick Mead is without doubt one of the greatest national discoveries ever made in the Stonehenge landscape.” The latest addition to the list of discoveries is a tooth. It got a lot of attention in the media, but that simple fact is almost the only thing about the story that I’m happy not to question.
Blick Mead is important, and has considerable potential, as I explained in a feature I wrote for British Archaeology last year. To date, however, we have not had a single peer-reviewed publication about the dig or anything from it, despite the fact they began excavating there a decade ago. That’s not great for an excavation, especially in a world heritage site – but it happens. What’s not acceptable, I think, is to fail to offer your work for scientific scrutiny if you make exceptional claims for it, and regularly take them to the public, who are undoubtedly interested.
Francis Pryor writes about Blick Mead in his new book (see below). He says the artefacts are in situ; that the site has produced the largest collection of wild cattle bones yet found on a British mesolithic site; that the mud turned the flints bright pink; that it features the longest proven occupation of a British mesolithic site; that dates prove it was occupied at the same time as large posts were erected near the future site of Stonehenge. But no evidence has yet been offered to prove any of those claims.
Francis’ book was too late for the tooth. This, we are told, is evidence for “a 250-mile trip from York to Wiltshire made 7,000 years ago by a Mesolithic hunter-gatherer and his dog” (Guardian) – “evidence of the earliest journey in British history” (BBC). A leader in the Times announced, “A Mesolithic Alsatian from Yorkshire is now Stonehenge’s earliest recorded visitor.” Yet the only solid evidence we were given for this is a photo. Yup, it’s a tooth.
The argument is that the tooth is a domestic dog’s; that stable isotope analysis shows the dog grew up in the Vale of York; as the tooth was found in Wiltshire, the dog must have walked there from Yorkshire; the tooth was found in a mesolithic context at Blick Mead, so the journey occurred 7,000 years ago; and that is the oldest demonstrated journey in British history.
Is the tooth from a wolf or a dog, and if the latter, what did it look like? Did a dog walk to Wiltshire, or did a person carry a tooth – perhaps in a necklace? Published mesolithic radiocarbon dates from Blick Mead range from 9,500 years ago to 6,250 (note at the nearest this is over a thousand years before Stonehenge began, so pace the Times leader writer, no mesolithic dog visited it). So, given the apparent lack of stratigraphy at the site which means items can be dated only by typology or direct carbon dating, has the tooth been dated, and if not why 7,000 years ago? And the key question: do the isotope data show the beast grew up in Yorkshire?
First I asked David Jacques, as site director, for information. He declined.
Then I asked Bryony Rogers, a research student at Durham University supervised by Janet Montgomery, who worked on the isotope analysis. She was very helpful, and what she told me was more or less what the media had reported, but with a little more detail and no hype. I learnt the tooth was a lone find. So it was not attached to a jaw or skeleton to prove a whole dog, as opposed to a tooth which might have been carried.
Bryony’s main focus was on reconstructing diet, she told me. Her data show the dog was not eating marine food, and was most likely consuming aurochs (wild cattle) and other large herbivores with the possible inclusion of freshwater fish. The dog’s diet “remained relatively constant across the time period represented by the tooth”. This is the first time that this technique has been carried out on a dog and on a sample of this age, she says. Pioneering stuff.
They also looked at the tooth enamel: this is where various stable isotopes might throw light on the creature’s migratory history. Oxygen, says Bryony, is not consistent with the dog drinking water local to Blick Mead when it was a puppy. “We suggested that the dog came from the north-east of the site,” she said, “but did not specify York as an origin. We are currently carrying out strontium isotope analysis to try and get a better understanding of the dog’s origin, as these oxygen results could also suggest an origin of higher altitude.”
The phrase “north-east of the site” rang a bell. This was exactly how Paul Budd, Jane Evans and Carolyn Chenery described the home of the beheaded Anglo-Saxon man buried at Stonehenge. They interpreted oxygen and strontium data to suggest he had grown up in an area “primarily to the north and east of the monument” (see “An Anglo-Saxon decapitation and burial at Stonehenge,” Wiltshire Archaeological & Natural History Magazine 95 (2002), 131–46, and my book Hengeworld).
The Anglo-Saxon man’s potential home territory was quite limited, and did not reach further north than Cambridge. Is it possible, I asked Bryony Rogers, that the Blick Mead dog grew up in the same area?
She said it was.
“It could be a possibility for the dog to have moved from a similar locality,” she wrote in an email. Now strontium isotopes may show the dog came from much further north. But until the analyses are done, and we have that evidence, all we can say is that the dog was not local. “We can’t say how far it travelled to the site on this evidence alone,” concludes Bryony.
Suppose it did come from Yorkshire. Would we then have the oldest demonstrated journey in British history? The key word is “demonstrated”. Hunter-gatherers can cover very wide distances over the course of a year. But do we have any evidence for this from the British mesolithic? How about the final palaeolithic, older still?
In 2012 Paul Pettitt, Marcy Rockman and Simon Chenery published a peer-reviewed article in which they claim to chemically characterise surface flint outcrops in various parts of England (Quaternary International 272/273, 275–287). Applying the analyses to artefacts made in the Creswellian era, 12–13,000 years ago, they found “some flints [had been] transported over distances ranging from the local to >200km”. More than 200km sounds like a journey to me. The mesolithic hadn’t even begun then.
The good news, is that we have been promised a peer-reviewed book on Blick Mead, edited by David Jacques and called Blick Mead: Spring Excavations. It will contain an article by Bryony Rogers, K Gron, J Montgomery, DR Gröcke & P Rowley-Conwy, “Aurochs hunters: the animal bones from Blick Mead”. Peter Lang expect to publish it early next year.
Meanwhile, we’ve had some more gentle news from Stonehenge. In late September, locals in Wylye were able to watch the latest Stonehenge replica being built. Shoots for the forthcoming Transformers: The Last Knight, gave Arthur Pendragon an opportunity to complain that setting off explosive effects in front of some polystyrene megaliths ten miles down the road from Stonehenge (and out of sight) offended the ancestors. It’s a good thing the ancestors don’t keep up with politics, or they’d be really miffed. The movie’s set to be released in June next year, to add a bit of needed colour to the summer solstice events.
Speaking of colour, over at the Society of Antiquaries’ newsletter (Salon, which I edit along with British Archaeology), a Fellow wrote in about Victorian flower shows at Stonehenge. He was reading Richard Davenport-Hines’ biography, Universal Man: The Seven Lives of John Maynard Keynes, and was surprised to learn that the great economist’s grandfather had put on displays of dahlias at Stonehenge in the 1840s. Apparently Sir Edmund Antrobus, who owned the stones, was president elect of the Salisbury Plain Dahlia Society when John Keynes snr was honorary secretary. They conspired to move the annual flower show from Everleigh to Stonehenge. As you’d expect, attendance rocketed. John “dahlia” Keynes had to issue a notice commanding that “no vehicles, booths, or standing pitches” should be put within 50 yards of the stones.
Back in 2016, “Hundreds of druids and pagans” at the site for the September equinox sounded like a very low-key affair – and quite posh, judging by the Mail Online’s photos. English Heritage now opens the stones up for full public access for the equinoxes as well as the solstices. While the solstice case is quite compelling, there is no evidence that people in 2500BC were any more aware of an equinox than they were of Christmas or April Fool’s Day. But why not?
And a couple of books are out to add to the Stonehenge canon. Jane Brayne’s long-awaited – by those of us in the know – comic book inspired by the Amesbury Archer is finally done and self-published. It’s a lovely thing which I highly recommend: my daughter and I enjoyed a long Sunday breakfast in bed reading it together. Jane tells me you can find it in the shop at Stonehenge; I interviewed her for the new British Archaeology. The other title is Francis Pryor’s Stonehenge: The Story of a Sacred Landscape, nicely made by Head of Zeus, in a smallish gift format with tinted paper and much full-page art and photography. The text is a useful introduction to where we are now, in an ever-changing story (see above) of competing ideas and new evidence.
Below: map added October 20 in response to Tim Daw’s comment.
Martyn Barber, who works at Historic England and co-authored HE’s recent The Stonehenge Landscape, tells me he’s researching John Soul. Soul featured in my previous post as the man who linked free access at Stonehenge in the last century to a photo of a Victorian event there (at 3pm on a September 18, but in other respects not unlike a summer solstice gathering). Soul, it seems, had quite an active relationship with the site’s official guardians.
“Did you know”, writes Barber, “he used to cycle up to Stonehenge, buy a batch of guidebooks at sixpence each, and then re-sell them at his shop in Amesbury for a shilling. I suspect this was done partly to annoy the Office of Works etc, which he was very good at.”
Among correspondence in the Office of Works archives at Kew, Barber found this comment from George Engleheart, Wiltshire secretary to the Society of Antiquaries, in a letter to Charles Peers, Chief Inspector of Ancient Monuments (Engleheart was himself a man not to shy away from stirring things up):
“…in bygone and sensible times we should have had [Soul] assassinated, but I can’t undertake the job in the face of miserable modern prejudice” (January 25 1921, TNA WORK 14/487).
Soul sounds like someone to have got on well with Arthur Pendragon. Has the latter ever thought of setting up shop in Amesbury?
Photo at top is from Jim Fuller
Four years ago (time, even immemorial, flies) I was working on an exhibition about Stonehenge for English Heritage, and I wrote a blog about a frequently reproduced photo of the stones. The image shows a crowd of people, bicycles and carts and horses, and had been commonly said to show a protest in 1901 against an admission charge. In fact the photo was taken in 1896 (along with at least one similar shot), on the occasion of a visit from a travelling musical troupe called the Magpie Musicians.
To my delight Jim Fuller recently got in touch with me through this blog, and supplied information and photos that tie up the story of these remarkable images. He sent me several photos, which he has kindly allowed me to publish here. One of the two prints I described, at the Wiltshire & Swindon History Centre (WSHC), is stamped “T.L. Fuller, Press and Commercial Photographer, Amesbury, Established 1911”. Jim is Thomas Lionel Fuller’s grandson. He has what remains of his grandfather’s collection of prints and negatives; all those reproduced here are his copyright.
As you can read on my earlier blog, the photo of Victorian festivities in the WHSC had been said, on the occasion of the opening of a pedestrian road underpass in 1968, to show “the villagers of Amesbury who massed at Stonehenge in protest against the charge” for entry introduced in 1901. Whoever wrote that could not have been TL Fuller, as he died in 1962. Neither did he take the photo, which was the work of James Russell & Sons from London. So how it came to be linked with an imaginary 1901 protest, and what Fuller’s connection was, remained unanswered. Until now.
At the top is an albumen print TL Fuller had in his collection of the more commonly reproduced image, showing a couple with two children standing by the Slaughter Stone (in the other, they are seated). The inscription shows the print was mounted by Russell & Sons. Someone has added a pencilled caption (partly inked over), and pencilled lines around the stones. The caption reads:
“THE RIGHT of FREE ACCESS enjoyed by THE BRITISH PUBLIC from TIME IMMEMORIAL” (above), and below:
ENCLOSED with barbed wire and a charge made for ADMISSION. 1901.
Jim Fuller has teased out what is going on. First let’s consider a pair of glass negatives, stored together with a handwritten note by his grandfather. Jim has transcribed the note (above), which is stamped with TL Fuller’s name and address and dated August 17 1938.
Copied from an old Photo given to me by Mr J. Soul (Shep[h]erd of Stonehenge) / this might be saleable to some of the weekly’s
Taken 68 Years ago /
Also see closing the gates Neg. taken June 1936. when the New Pay Turnstile was used first/
I understand a large number are being charged @ Salisbury Court last week concerning damage etc at Stonehenge some time ago –
the second party who visited Stonehenge during the night –
the Office of Works probably can do with plenty publicity concerning these places.
As Jim says, this seems to suggest that TL Fuller submitted a couple of images (as above) to a press agency (“this might be saleable to some of the weekly’s“) when arrests at the stones were in the news. The incident caused quite a stir at the time.
On the morning of June 16 1938 it was discovered that the Heelstone and four other stones, along with some nearby signposts, had been daubed with green paint. As well as this, as Time Magazine put it in its Foreign News section when the culprits were in court in August, “Atop great menhirs sat shining chamber pots.”
“Sixty Army officers” were asked “as officers and gentlemen to own to daubing part of Stonehenge”. Four came forward. It emerged that the “prank” began “after a rowdy guest night at nearby Larkhill Artillery School”.
The four men, all aged 20, having completed their course at Larkhill, were due to leave the following day. William Laurence Sherrard and William Howard Skinner, of the School of Anti-Aircraft Defence, Biggin Hill; John Edward Passingham Pierce, of the 22nd Anti-Aircraft Battery, Royal Artillery Experimental Camp, Watchet; and John Lambert Shearne, of the Coast Artillery School, Shoeburyness: left the Mess about 10.30pm and got into Peirce’s car. They drove around, and, as you do, “decided to paint Stonehenge”.
“We collected some paint and a brush from the tennis court”, read their statement to the Salisbury court, where they pleaded guilty, “and went over to Stonehenge. Mr. Peirce and Mr. Sherrard each brought a piece of china. We parked the car by the fork road, got out, climbed the fence, and went over to the stones. We painted four stones in the group with green paint, climbed the stones and placed the pieces of china on the top of the stones. We came back towards the fence and painted a part of one side of the Hele stone.”
As a departing flourish they “added a letter” to “Exeter” on the road sign by the car park.
“It will take perhaps a thousand years for the stones to weather,” said the prosecution, referring to the cleansed sarsens. They were each fined £1, and charged £20 for court costs and repairs. The Larkhill commander, said Time, promised an “official reprimand”, while “keeping a straight face”.
I’ve put this together from online local press reports, so details may need correcting, and perhaps someone has some photos or drawings. But it would seem that TL Fuller, in the absence of photos of the actual event, rummaged in his archive and found something suitable for the press, which he copied (pencilling around the stones to make them clearer) and posted; Jim says he has a buff envelope, addressed to his grandfather and postmarked London 1938, which could have been how they were returned.
When Fuller wrote that one of the negatives was copied from a photo given him by J Soul, he was referring to John Soul (1866–1942), an eccentric family grocer who had a shop in Amesbury. Soul sounds like a latter day Henry Browne, obsessed with Stonehenge, writing guidebooks, popular with locals and visitors, dressing up as a shepherd and a Druid, and no doubt spinning remarkable stories. He was also, says Jim, a champion for the right of free, public access to Stonehenge.
It was Soul, thinks Jim, who wrote on the mount of the 1868 Russell print. That it was owned by him is confirmed by stamps on the back:
The Stonehenge Bureau, “antiques and curios”, must have been a sideline to the bread and camp requisites – the same stamp is over this trade postcard (putting an entirely new slant on Soul Brothers):
So the idea that the Magpie Musicians’ visit was actually a protest against the privatisation of Stonehenge originated with John Soul’s proselytising: he used the 1868 image to represent unfettered public access, in contrast to the 20th century fences and gates. There’s no evidence here that either Soul or Fuller argued that the image actually showed a protest, and both acknowledged its Victorian date (they thought 1870). The notion of a 1901 rally seems to have arisen later, through over-casual reading of Soul’s (or Fuller’s) caption.
This also allows us to see the photo of the man at the turnstile (higher up) in a new light. Usually imagined to be an unknown rambling visitor, we can now see it was John Soul, presumably posing deliberately by the new gates in a continuing fight for free public access.
Thank you Jim Fuller!
Yesterday I blogged a photo that won the British Life Photography Awards 2015. It was a striking image of dawn at Stonehenge, captured on a field of camera phones. There was something odd about it though: as I noted in parenthesis at the end, “why do I have a faint wonder if it’s been Photoshopped?”
I had a closer look at it last night. It may be real. But I think the photographer, and the award, need to prove it. There are too many things with the image that don’t seem right.
Here are some recent views of the same event.
The above image is a still from a video on the Guardian website, published in June last year. The video shows a typical recent scene at Stonehenge as the sun rises on the midsummer solstice dawn.
Here is another screenshot from the same video.
Here is a photo taken on the same day, published by the Telegraph:
And finally a photo taken at the same event in 2010. This was published by the Daily Mail:
What do we see? Overall, the British Life Photography Awards picture (BLP) has a quite different look about it. It shows a relatively monochrome view of people crammed together all apparently holding up phones at a similar height (see the crop below). None of the other photos shows this. We see a lot of phones, but most people are not taking photographs. The crowd is more varied and colourful (note how the colour in the sky is reflected in the foreground, which doesn’t seem to be the case with the BLP image). If you look in particular at the BLP hands, light seems to be coming from a variety of directions, which is odd as there should be no direct light on the back of the hands at all.
Most significantly, I think, as with the BLP image, in the press images above we can see pictures on phone screens. But they are not all identical (see a selection in the lower row above). They show different views, as we would expect, and the clarity depends on the type of phone and the angle of the phone relative to the camera that shot the photo. In the BLP image the cameras all show an almost identical shot, the same view, the same light, and all extremely clear (look at the highest phone on the left: is that really the view that would have been seen from that point?). There’s no depth in the image. It has something of the manic impact of a John Heartfield photomontage, but it’s not a straight photo. It’s a clever desktop composition.
Why does this matter? Could we be seeing a new Heartfield in the making? That would be good, the world needs more satirists.
The BLP Awards is a website competition, with an impressive list of judges, including Chris Steele-Perkins and David Yeo. It’s cheap to enter (you can submit three images for £10, and up to a total of 40). The entry requirements are simple and open, and encourage phone images. This is the second year of the awards, and it comes with the second book… which has the Stonehenge image on the cover:
There are submission guidelines. They include this:
Physical changes e.g. adding or removing objects, people; or stripping in sky from another image etc.
Digital collages, sandwich shots and composites.
The rules allow “digital adjustments” (“Minor cleaning work including removal of sensor spots and dust, moderate adjustments of: contrast, tonal values…” etc). But the winning 2015 image seems to me to go well beyond such tinkering. If so, whatever we think of it, someone else should have won.
Elena Marimon Munoz appears to be a student at the Centre for Digital Entertainment, working on image acquisition and image enhancement in digital radiography. She clearly knows a thing or two about digital imaging. But was her entry to the BLP Awards fair?
Visiting Stonehenge at midsummer over the years has been an experience of time passing, marked by portable camera technology. The worst year was when video cameras with side viewers were in fashion, you looked over a forest of hands raising up the blank gadgets which no one could see into. What works so well here is that the large electronic viewing screens show the view, with most of the photographers trying to get the stones without the crowd: taking all that trouble and ending up by not recording what’s in front of them (and doubtless having fun while doing it). A great shot by Elena Marimon Munoz. (Though why do I have a faint wonder if it’s been photoshopped?).
British Life Photography can be seen at the Mall Galleries, London March 7– 13 March, and Banbury Museum March 25–July 9
Below: The Kodachrome days
Prehistoric Stonehenge is shown in reconstructions as a place where men shout at each other. We might catch a glimpse of a woman or two watching on the sidelines, but the important stuff was all being done by males.
We need to get the paints out. The largest analysis of human remains from Stonehenge ever conducted reveals that exactly half those buried there were women.
How has this come about? What does it mean?
The Stonehenge dead have long been with us. Ancient cremated human remains were first found there in 1920, and throughout major excavations that ran for a further five years. Yet until now, almost nothing was known about them. How many people were there? Were they typical of the wider population, or different? Male or female, young or old, fit or poorly, these individuals were anonymous, unstudied and unavailable for analysis.
The problem was that at the time the remains were dug up, no one knew what to do with them. Scientists thought they were useless. No museum wanted to store them. So in 1935, all the bones that had been kept – from at least 59 burials – were put back. Aubrey Hole 7, first excavated in 1920, was re-excavated, and the bones contained in four sandbags were poured in and covered up.
As a consequence, despite being the largest of its kind in the country – never mind that it was also at Stonehenge – the cemetery has been overlooked. It has played a bit part in histories and explanations of the monument.
We knew the remains had been put into Aubrey Hole 7 because of two short records. William Young, then curator at Avebury Museum, recorded the event in his diary, now in the collection of Wiltshire Museum, Devizes. As I noted in the paperback edition of Hengeworld, 15 years ago I found a letter in the Public Record Office that showed the “surplus bones” were indeed the human cremations (and not, for example, animal bones).
“Mr Newall arrived with the surplus bones at half-past two. There were four ordinary sand bags full. These were placed at the bottom of the Aubrey Hole, together with a stout leaden plate, which bore an inscription recording at length all the circumstances which led to their being deposited here, and the date.
“The hole was then filled in immediately while Nr Newall was present, then after I had re-laid the turf bordering, and had put a layer of fresh, white chalk in the centre, there were hardly any indications to show that it had ever been touched. !!!”
WEV Young Diary, 28 January 1935
The ring of Aubrey Holes excavated in the 1920s marked with red circles. Photo Adam Stanford
In 2008 Mike Parker Pearson, Julian Richards and I led a team to re-re-excavate Aubrey Hole 7 (you may have seen us at work in a TV film first broadcast in 2010), one of the last excavations by the Stonehenge Riverside Project
We found the pit. We found the lead plaque. And we found the bones – sadly not in little tins or boxes, or even in four bags, but a dense layer of mixed fragments (so it was impossible to distinguish individual burials). We also found, as an unexpected bonus, a new burial. Perched on the edge of the Aubrey Hole was an undisturbed cremation burial (of a woman, as it turned out), that William Hawley in 1920 and Young and Newall in 1935 had missed. Which begs the question, how many more had they dug over and not seen?
Christie Willis has spent years analysing the fragments of burnt bone, a monumental task. The first full results of her studies are about to be published in Antiquity (see reference at end). The new British Archaeology has a feature written by the same team, summarising these results and putting them into a bit of context.
Here I will write just about the women. It seems to me this is a big thing to think about.
Because of the fragmentation and mixing, it was very difficult to distinguish between individuals. Of 21 pieces of skull that came from different people, Christie found nine were from men, five from women. She found 24 bones from the inner ear that were also from different people, and of these she was able to say nine were from men and 14 from women. I’ve already mentioned the woman whose burial we found on the edge of the Aubrey Hole, and another female burial had been found elsewhere at Stonehenge which was not reburied for us to dig up. You cannot possibly argue with this evidence that Stonehenge was a male preserve.
SO WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?
We found an undisturbed burial beside the Aubrey Hole, which had been missed in 1920
We think burial at Stonehenge was likely to be reserved for selected people of higher status. Why?
Stonehenge is the biggest, but it’s not the only circular cremation cemetery of this time, around 3000–2500BC. But they are not common: we know of less than 20 across the whole of the UK.
Secondly, those we do know are not big enough to represent everyone in a likely local population. At Stonehenge, we know from new radiocarbon dates from 25 different people that cremation burial occurred over at least six centuries (between around 3100BC and 2500BC). At the higher estimate of 240 burials for all of Stonehenge (my personal choice), that would be only 10 people/generation (25 years). At 150 burials (Mike Parker Pearson’s choice) it’s even less, six or seven. Neither number seems remotely big enough to represent the likely catchment area were everyone buried there.
Thirdly, this one is at Stonehenge!
We can only guess as to why more women were buried at Stonehenge than in earlier generations – though our guessing is backed by more scientific evidence than you will have seen in last night’s Silent Witness. It’s probably a reflection of wider changes across Britain, associated with the origins of the circular cremation cemeteries that replaced long barrows.
These earlier barrows were closed but accessible: remains were hidden away deep inside stone or wood chambers beneath large mounds. People seem to have entered the chambers repeatedly to add burials and possibly to take out bones for ritual use.
At the bigger cremation cemeteries like Stonehenge, as much effort was expended in digging and moving stones or timber as in building a barrow (at Stonehenge, for example, we have a ring of 56 Bluestones in the Aubrey Holes, surrounded by a circular ditch and bank 100m across). But after cremation (a demanding and spectacular event) an individual got their own, simple, grave. Their bones were not put into a communal chamber where in time they were muddled up with others. They remained separate, where they could be commemorated and remembered as individuals.
It seems these individuals could be women as much as men. Perhaps we are seeing a shift from a society dominated by male lineages and hierarchies – where the family or class was more significant than the person – to one where individual status or achievement stood for more. And that wider recognition extended to women as well as men.
Another of Christie Willis’s discoveries further suggests that in the early neolithic status was partly achieved by birth – and less so in the late neolithic. She found relatively very few children buried at Stonehenge compared to remains from long barrows – and even those we can see are probably an exaggeration of the relative quantities, as smaller younger bones will have survived the cremation and mixing better than larger adult bones, and thus be easier to spot.
It’s worth noting also that long barrows tended to be sited on hilltops or high ground, away from where people lived. Cremation cemeteries tend to be on lower ground, near rivers – not necessarily precisely where people lived (Stonehenge is conspicuously clear of any domestic remains), but in similar environments and near by.
This is a complete guess, but perhaps in line with a move from a focus on male lineage and hierarchy, to both genders and individuals, this reflects a parallel shift from markers of territory and land (barrows) to commemorations of communities (cremation cemeteries). Selective access to burial places (perhaps the ashes of most people were scattered in the rivers) suggests society remained hierarchical, but it doesn’t prove it.
It has been immensely rewarding to see these remains finally re-excavated and analysed (notwithstanding Pagan protests that would have stopped us). The remains of these forgotten people will change the way we understand Stonehenge. The journey of discovery has only just begun.
The excavation of Aubrey Hole 7 and the subsequent research were conducted by Mike Parker Pearson, Christie Willis and Tony Waldron (UCL Institute of Archaeology), Pete Marshall (Historic England), Jacqueline McKinley (Wessex Archaeology), Mike Pitts (Digging Deeper), Joshua Pollard (University of Southampton), Colin Richards and Julian Thomas (Manchester University), Julian Richards (Archaemedia) and Kate Welham (Bournemouth University). Our report (“The dead of Stonehenge”) appears in the February 2015 edition of Antiquity [now slated for April 2016]. The project was part-funded by the Arts & Humanities Research Council and Oxford Scientific Films, with the consent of English Heritage, the Department for Culture Media & Sport, and the Ministry of Justice
“The Stonehenge people: senior and high status… and not all men” is in British Archaeology Mar/Apr 2016/147, online today and in the shops on Friday February 5
Added Feb 3 9.20am.
In response to Tim Daw’s comment, I’ve added this plan below. The yellow Aubrey Holes have been excavated, but have no record of cremated human remains being found in them. I’ve also put a yellow line in the south-east marking the edge of the excavated areas there (Hawley claimed to have dug up almost everything on that side of the site north and west of this line). You can see from this how little of the bank immediately adjacent to the Aubrey Hole ring, or the area beyond the ditch, has been investigated: Hawley trenched along the ditch, but barely touched the bank. If you read anything that suggests there is some kind of astronomical significance in the location of things found under the bank, you need to bear this in mind – what we’re seeing could easily be just where archaeologists have dug.
David Dawson, director of the Wiltshire Museum, has put a very interesting piece up about WEV Young’s diaries, which are in the museum’s collection.
For some of us old archaeologists last night’s Timewatch film was as much about memories as Stonehenge, but it was great for both (and good to see Salisbury Museum’s new prehistory gallery).
I enjoyed Magnus Magnusson talking to Richard Atkinson and Geoffrey Kellaway about bluestones for a Chronicle film in 1972, like a polite Newsnight interview (love that rug!). Glyn Daniel sits beside Atkinson, struggling to conceal a quizzical smirk. (Photo above is from the film.)
Did the bluestones get to Stonehenge by human transport or glacial action?
The fundamental problem with resolving this issue is clear in the film clip, and it hasn’t changed a bit. Kellaway (a geologist) talks about archaeology and the motivations of people who built Stonehenge. Atkinson (an archaeologist) talks about geology.
Kellaway: What nobody has explained is why were rotten stones that have in fact come out of a peat bog, which are absolutely useless for building, which have come from north or central or south Wales, we don’t quite know which, why those should be gathered together in heaps on Salisbury Plain?
Atkinson: If the bluestones were brought by ice to somewhere on Salisbury Plain, it seems to me highly improbable that what was brought was subsequently sufficient just for the needs of the builders of Stonehenge and left nothing over.
It began like this:
Magnusson: Professor Atkinson, do you think that Mr Kellaway is talking nonsense?
Atkinson: If I were to say yes, that would be rude.
Things are not always so polite now, but it’s an enduring academic shouting match that hasn’t moved on in 40 years. We’ll only progress if geologists and archaeologists work together, rather than lean on their ignorance of the other’s field for support.
A rummage in the BBC Stonehenge archives, should be entertaining, presented by Alice Roberts with Tim Darvill, Mike Parker Pearson and myself. I don’t know who wrote the script (fingers crossed…), but there’s some great film stashed away! BBC4 tonight.