Exploring Ancient Textiles: Pushing the Boundaries of Established Methodologies 9781789257267, 1789257263, 9781789257250

Table of contents :
Cover
Contents
List of contributors and editors
List of figures
List of tables
Preface
Introduction: Ancient tools and textiles – Thinking outside the box
Part I Application of analytical techniques on tools
1 Preliminary remarks on some wear traces on Egyptian and Levantine textile tools
2 Visible tools, invisible craft: An analysis of textile tools in Iron Age Cornwall
3 Tools and their products: Spindle whorls decorated by yarn impressions from Iron Age Donja Dolina in northern Bosnia and Herzegovina
4 Shears in the ancient world: A comparison between the Iberian culture of southern Spain and Roman culture in northern Italy
Part II Application of analytical techniques on textiles and fibres
5 Bast fibre production from the southern coast of Peru: The case of the La Yerba II and III sites
6 Humans, wool textiles, chronology, and provenance: A case study from the Orenburg region in the southern Urals, Russia
7 Using textiles to reconstruct looms: Burial shrouds from Deir el-Banat (Fayum, Egypt)
8 EDS analysis of Neolithic to Early Dynastic Egyptian woven cloth in the Bolton Museum collection
9 A post-excavation study using the archaeothanatological approach to determine the possibility of wrapping in Early Bronze Age burials of Britain
Part III Cultural and personal identity
10 Beyond textile production: What textile tools can tell us about networks of craftspeople and cultural identity
11 Textiles and human needs: A discussion of textile production in the Hallstatt culture
12 Textile tools and textiles from the ninth–eighth century BC necropolis of Incoronata (Basilicata, Italy): Evidence for culture, status, and specialisation in a south Italian indigenous community
13 Translating sailcloth into raw materials, land, and labour
Afterword

Citation preview

ANCIENT TEXTILES SERIES 40

EXPLORING ANCIENT TEXTILES pushing the Boundaries oF estaBlished methodologies

Edited by

ALISTAIR DICKEY, MARGARITA GLEBA, SARAH HITCHENS, AND GABRIELLA LONGHITANO

Oxford & Philadelphia

Published in the United Kingdom in 2022 by OXBOW BOOKS The Old Music Hall, 106–108 Cowley Road, Oxford, OX4 1JE and in the United States by OXBOW BOOKS 1950 Lawrence Road, Havertown, PA 19083 © Oxbow Books and the individual authors 2022 Paperback Edition: ISBN 978-1-78925-725-0 Digital Edition: ISBN 978-1-78925-726-7 (epub) A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Control Number: 2022937712 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the publisher in writing. Printed in the United Kingdom by Short Run Press Typeset by Lapiz Digital Services For a complete list of Oxbow titles, please contact: UNITED KINGDOM Oxbow Books Telephone (01865) 241249 Email: [email protected] www.oxbowbooks.com UNITED STATES OF AMERICA Oxbow Books Telephone (610) 853-9131, Fax (610) 853-9146 Email: [email protected] www.casemateacademic.com/oxbow Oxbow Books is part of the Casemate Group

Front cover: Top Left: SEM image of a textile from Predynastic Grave 4620, Badari, Egypt. Bolton Museum, accession number BOLMG:1926.53.8.1. [Image by A. Dickey. Object courtesy of Bolton Museum, UK]. Top Right: Image of a wooden spindle whorl from Qasr Ibrim, Egypt, dated to the Later Medieval period. Bolton, Bolton Museum, accession number BOLMG:1995.66.25. [Image by S. Hitchens. Object courtesy of Bolton Museum, UK]. Bottom: View to the north down corridor 4 in the Menkaure Valley Temple, Giza, Egypt. [Image by S. Hitchens with thanks to AERA].

DIPARTIMENTO DEI BENI CULTURALI ARCHEOLOGIA, STORIA DELL’ARTE, DEL CINEMA E DELLA MUSICA

Contents

List of contributors and editors v List of figures vii List of tables xiii Preface Ian Shaw xv Introduction: Ancient tools and textiles – Thinking outside the box Gabriella Longhitano, Sarah Hitchens, Alistair Dickey, and Margarita Gleba Part I: Application of analytical techniques on tools 1. Preliminary remarks on some wear traces on Egyptian and Levantine textile tools Chiara Spinazzi-Lucchesi 2. Visible tools, invisible craft: An analysis of textile tools in Iron Age Cornwall Lewis Ferrero 3. Tools and their products: Spindle whorls decorated by yarn impressions from Iron Age Donja Dolina in northern Bosnia and Herzegovina Julia Katarina Fileš Kramberger 4. Shears in the ancient world: A comparison between the Iberian culture of southern Spain and Roman culture in northern Italy Patricia Rosell Garrido and Fabio Spagiari Part II: Application of analytical techniques on textiles and fibres 5. Bast fibre production from the southern coast of Peru: The case of the La Yerba II and III sites Camila Alday 6. Humans, wool textiles, chronology, and provenance: A case study from the Orenburg region in the southern Urals, Russia Natalia Shishlina, Olga Orfinskaya, Daria Kiseleva, Anna Mamonova, Lidiya Kuptsova, and Tomasz Goslar 7. Using textiles to reconstruct looms: Burial shrouds from Deir el-Banat (Fayum, Egypt) Olga Orfinskaya and Darya Klyuchnikova 8. EDS analysis of Neolithic to Early Dynastic Egyptian woven cloth in the Bolton Museum collection Alistair Dickey 9. A post-excavation study using the archaeothanatological approach to determine the possibility of wrapping in Early Bronze Age burials of Britain Eleanor James Part III: Cultural and personal identity 10. Beyond textile production: What textile tools can tell us about networks of craftspeople and cultural identity Gabriella Longhitano

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Contents 11. Textiles and human needs: A discussion of textile production in the Hallstatt culture Karina Grömer 12. Textile tools and textiles from the ninth–eighth century BC necropolis of Incoronata (Basilicata, Italy): Evidence for culture, status, and specialisation in a south Italian indigenous community Francesco Meo 13. Translating sailcloth into raw materials, land, and labour Lise Bender Jørgensen

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Afterword Lin Foxhall

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List of contributors and editors

Camila Alday is an archaeologist. Her doctoral research at the University of Cambridge explored bast fibre materials, in an attempt to understand how the production of nets, looped bags, mats, and other fibrous materials underpinned maritime subsistence strategies during the Andean Preceramic Period (10,000–3,500 BP).

Lin Foxhall, FSA, MBE, is Professor of Archaeology and Ancient Greek History. She has written on women, men, and gender in the classical world. She is an Honorary Professor at the University of Leicester, and in 2017 she was appointed to the Rathbone Chair of Ancient History and Classical Archaeology at the University of Liverpool.

Lise Bender Jørgensen is Professor Emerita of Archaeology at the Norwegian University of Science and Technology, Trondheim, Norway. She is an internationally regarded expert in archaeological textiles of Europe and the Roman World.

Margarita Gleba, FSA, is Assistant Professor at the Department of Cultural Heritage, University of Padua, Italy. Her research interests includes the archaeology of the pre- and protohistoric Mediterranean and western Asia. Her special area of research is textile archaeology, including scientific analytical methods of fibre and textile investigation.

Alistair Dickey holds a PhD in Egyptology from the University of Liverpool. His research explores textile production during the Neolithic, Predynastic, and Early Dynastic periods of Egyptian history. He has also excavated extensively in Egypt, Cyprus, Kazakhstan, Italy, and Northern Ireland. Lewis Ferrero is a recent Cambridge alumna with a special interest in textile archaeology, gender archaeology, and experimental archaeology. They began working with textiles at the age of 13, when they joined the Devon Guild of Weavers, Spinners, and Dyers. The current focus of their research explores the connection between textile production and land use. Julia Katarina Fileš Kramberger is currently enrolled in postgraduate doctoral studies in archaeology and employed at the Department for Archaeology, Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences, University of Zagreb, through the Croatian Science Foundation (CSF). As a PhD candidate, she has worked on two CSF projects with topics in prehistoric archaeology, funeral practices, and female identities. She is currently a researcher on a CSF project called Creation of European Identities – Food, Textiles and Metals in the Iron Age Between Alps, Pannonia and Balkans.

Tomasz Goslar is a physicist. Since 2001, he has been conducting research at the Institute of Physics of Adam Mickiewicz University. He also heads the Poznań Radiocarbon Laboratory which he set up in 2001. Tomasz is an expert on the youngest Quaternary period and his research is related to determining the chronology and mechanisms of past climate changes. Karina Grömer studied prehistoric archaeology at the University of Vienna in Austria. She specialises in textile analysis, research of textile tools, and reconstruction of prehistoric costume. Since 2008, she has been working at the Department of Prehistory of the Natural History Museum Vienna for different international research projects. Her current research focuses on the analysis of textiles from graves and salt mines, covering a time-span from 2000 BC to AD 1000. Sarah Hitchens is an AHRC-funded postgraduate researcher at the University of Liverpool working in collaboration with the Bolton Museum. Her research focuses on the archaeological textiles and spinning implements from Qasr Ibrim. Eleanor James is currently working in commercial archaeology as a practising Senior Project Archaeologist with

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GUARD Archaeology Ltd. Her research interests include osteology, textiles, and post-medieval pottery. She is a Member of the Society of Antiquaries, Scotland and a Practitioner of the Chartered Institute of Archaeologists.

(CESRAS) and the Postgraduate Studies Department of the Heritage Institute. She is a textile specialist and historian of Russia and has researched extensively and excavated across Russia and Egypt.

Daria Kiseleva, holds a PhD in Geological and Mineralogical Sciences. She is a senior research fellow at the Zavaritsky Institute of Geology and Geochemistry, Urals Branch of Russian Academy of Sciences, and is an Associate Professor at the Ural Federal University, Ekaterinburg. She is a specialist in the analytical methods of investigation of cultural heritage objects, especially in inductively coupled plasma mass spectrometry.

Patricia Rosell Garrido is a PhD candidate in Archaeology and a predoctoral researcher at the Department of Prehistory, Archaeology, Ancient History, Greek Philology, and Latin Philology at the University of Alicante, Spain. She works at the Museo Arqueológico de Alicante and at the Museu Arqueològic Municipal d’Alcoi Camil Visedo Moltó. Her interests lie in the field of gender and feminism in Iberian culture, with a current focus on everyday life and maintenance activities such as textile production, food processing, and cooking.

Darya Klyuchnikova graduated with honours with a Master’s degree in Art History. She is a junior researcher at the Center for Egyptological Studies of the Russian Academy of Sciences and a textile conservator at the State Research Institute of Restoration in Russia. Lidiya Kuptsova is an archaeologist specialising in the Bronze Age cultures of Eurasia. She heads the archaeological laboratory at the Orenburg State Pedagogical University, Russia. Gabriella Longhitano holds a PhD in Archaeology from the University of Liverpool. She is currently undertaking a PhD in Cultural Heritage at the University of Catania. Her ongoing project aims to analyse textile fragments from Archaic Sicily. Her research interests include ancient textile production and related social practices. Anna Mamonova graduated from the Russian State University for the Humanities with a degree in textile conservation and restoration. She has been a textile conservator and researcher at the State Historical Museum Conservation Department since 2001. Francesco Meo, PhD, is the Scientific Director of the Museum and Archaeological Park of Muro Leccese as well as the Director of Archaeological Excavations. His research explores textile production and other manufacturing activities in southern Italy in the first millennium BC, the transformations occurring in the Greek and indigenous worlds of Magna Graecia between the Iron Age and the Roman Republican period, the Messapia settlements, funerary practices, and social organisation in the ninth to second century BC. Olga Orfinskaya is a senior researcher at the Center for Egyptological Studies of the Russian Academy of Sciences

Ian Shaw is Senior Research Fellow in Egyptian Archaeology at the University of Liverpool and Visiting Professor in Egyptology, IHAC, Northeast Normal University, Changchun, China. He is the co-editor of Ancient Egyptian Materials and Technology (2000), the author of Ancient Egyptian Technology and Innovation (2012) and co-editor of The Oxford Handbook of Egyptology (2020). N atalia S hishlina is a Doctor of History, Principal Researcher of the Archaeology Department in the State Historical Museum in Moscow and in the Museum of Anthropology and Ethnography (Kunstkamera), Russian Academy of Sciences, in Saint Petersburg. She is the curator of the Steppe and the Caucasus Prehistory collections. She is a leading authority on the Eneolithic, Yamnaya, Catacomb cultures, chronology, isotope studies, and textiles. Fabio Spagiari is a PhD student in History, Critics and Conservation of Cultural Heritage at the University of Padua. His research interests are concentrated on the study of the Classical world, with particular emphasis on the Roman age, in particular studies of the Roman army. His current work concerns the study of Roman craft tools related to carpentry, metallurgy, and agro-pastoral activities. Chiara Spinazzi-Lucchesi, PhD, is a Marie Skłodowska Curie postdoctoral researcher at the Centre for Textile Research at the University of Copenhagen. She obtained her PhD in Antiquities at the University of Venezia – Ca’ Foscari. In her doctoral thesis she analysed the different typologies of tools related to the production of textiles in use in Egypt and the southern Levant, from the Neolithic to 600 BC.

List of figures

Fig. 1.1. Striations due to manufacture on bases of spindle whorls A 5441 (Hazor) and 10-K-02-Ar2 (Megiddo) (Images: Author). Fig. 1.2. Wheel traces on spindle whorl 08-K-072-Ar5 (Megiddo) (Image: Author). Fig. 1.3. Dome (a) and base (b) of spindle whorl 08-K-089-Ar6 (Megiddo) (Image: Author). Fig. 1.4. a) Breccia spindle whorl UC 15413; b) detail of ‘upper’ hole; c) detail of ‘upper’ hole of UC 73209b (Images: Author). Fig. 1.5. ‘Upper’ and ‘lower’ hole of: a) A 62625 (Hazor); b) A 90894 (Hazor); c) 08-K-033-Ar7 (Megiddo); d) MM 2440 (Naqada) (Images: Author). Fig. 1.6. Manufacture of Hazor spatulae with trabeculae only partially obliterated by wear: a) M 78802; b) A 1533 (Image: Author). Fig. 1.7. Manufacture of Gurob spatulae: a) MM 555.b (x); b) MM 555 (ii); c) MM 555 (xxix); d) MM 555 (i) (Images: Author). Fig. 1.8. Bone spatulae from Gurob with trabeculae obliterated in the central area: a) MM 555 (ix) and b) MM 555 (xxxi); c) spatula with lateral wear MM 555 (xiv) (Images: Author). Fig. 1.9. Deep striations on UC 7712 (i) (Gurob) (Image: Author). Fig. 2.1. The location of each site in this study: 1) Carn Euny; 2) Bodrifty; 3) Trevelgue Head; 4) Trevisker; 5) The Rumps (Image: Author). Fig. 2.2. Map showing the proportions of spinning and weaving tools from sites across Cornwall: 1) Carn Euny; 2) Bodrifty; 3) Trevelgue Head; 4) Trevisker; 5) The Rumps (Image: Author). Fig. 2.3. The range of materials used for spindle whorls (left) and loom weights (right) in the studied sites (Image: Author). Fig. 3.1. The site map showing the location of the Donja Dolina in relation to nearby rivers (Image: Author). Fig. 3.2. Graph showing the number of spindle whorls per weight category or class with photographs of three whorls as examples (Image: Author). Fig. 3.3. Typological table of spindle whorl shapes mentioned in the text. Biconical and lenticular whorls are divided into subcategories depending on the shape of their protruding parts (Image: Author).  Fig. 3.4. Spindle whorls belonging to the first decoration pattern group (Image: Author). Fig. 3.5. Four decoration pattern groups: Group 1) impressed parallel curves on both surfaces of the whorl; Group 2) impressed parallel zig-zag lines on both surfaces of the whorl; Group 3) vertical impressed lines along the perimeter of the whorl; Group 4) unique or undefined patterns of impressed yarn and incisions on the entire surface of the whorl (Image: Author). Fig. 3.6. A and B) spindle whorls belonging to the second decoration pattern group; C and D) spindle whorls belonging to the third decoration pattern group (Image: Author). Fig. 3.7. Spindle whorls belonging to the fourth decoration pattern group (Image: Author). Fig. 3.8. Digital microphotographs of two spindle whorl decorations at 20× magnification. A and B) whorl surface with visible Z-plied impression (S-plied yarn), with thread diameter and twist angle measurements; C and D) negative cast of spindle whorl decoration in modelling clay – visible S-plied impressions (S-plied yarn), with thread diameter and twist angle measurements (Image: Author).

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Fig. 3.9. The impression of a Z-spun or plied thread results in a negative cast of the original thread, where the twist direction is opposite (S-directional) from the original thread’s twist or ply. 34 Fig. 3.10. Two spindle whorls with decoration resembling or imitating yarn impression but created by impressing other kinds of ribbed material (Image: Author). 35 Fig. 4.1. Shears components (Image: F. Spagiari after Spagnolo Garzoli 1999, 237–40, no. 4). 39 Fig. 4.2. a) Morphometric features suitable for different functions (Image: after Busana, Francisci, and Spagiari 2020, 289, fig. 2.1); b) drawing of shears represented on the Aquileia stele (Image: F. Spagiari after Zaccaria, 2009, 289, fig. 5); c) drawing of shears represented on the altar-tomb of Alba Fucens (Image: F. Spagiari after Zimmer 1982, 120, fig. 33); d) drawing of shears represented on the Sens relief (Image: F. Spagiari after Wild 1970, 179, fig. 73b); e) drawing of shears represented on the Vatican Museum relief (Image: F. Spagiari after Zimmer 1982, 134, fig. 49). 40 Fig. 4.3. Map showing the limits of regio Contestania and the location of the six case studies: La Covalta (Albaida, Valencia, and Agres), El Xarpolar (Vall d’Alcalà), La Bastida de les Alcusses (Mogente), La Serreta (Alcoi, Cocentaina, and Penàguila), L’Alcúdia (Elche), and Camí del Bosquet (Mogente) (Image: P. Rosell Garrido after Bonet Rosado and Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2011, 9, fig. 1). 42 Fig. 4.4. Spatial distribution of the eight pairs of shears found in the oppidum of La Bastida de les Alcusses, Mogente (Valencia, Spain), fifth–fourth century BC (Image: P. Rosell Garrido after Bonet Rosado and Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2011, 65, 66 and 171). 42 Fig. 4.5. The analysed shears from south-east Spain: a) La Bastida de les Alcusses, Department 63 (Image: P. Rosell Garrido after Fletcher, Pla, and Alcacer 1969, 64, fig. 22); b) El Xarpolar (Image: P. Rosell Garrido after Grau Mira and Amorós López 2014, 252, fig. 8.24); c) La Serreta (Image after Moratalla Jávega 1994, 131, fig. 15); d) L’Alcúdia (Image: P. Rosell Garrido after Ronda Femenia 2016, 604, fig. 538.1); e) La Bastida de les Alcusses, Department 4 (Image: P. Rosell Garrido after Fletcher, Pla, and Alcacer 1965, 46, fig. 7); f) L’Alcúdia (Image: P. Rosell Garrido after Moratalla Jávega 1993); g) La Covalta (Image after Violant y Simorra 1953, 126, fig. 8.1); h) Camí del Bosquet (Image after Aparicio Pérez 1988, 414, fig. 7.4); i) La Bastida de les Alcusses, Department 126 (Image after Bonet Rosado and Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2011, 113, fig. 23). 43 Fig. 4.6. Shears in northern Italy: a) distribution map showing the sites where shears were found, classified according to the different chronological phases: the Late Iron Age/Roman period (second century BC–first half of the first century BC); the Roman period (second half of first century BC–fifth century AD); and sites with a continuity from the Late Iron Age to the Roman period (second century BC–fifth century AD); b) graph showing the number of 46 shears represented during the different chronological phases (N=130). Fig. 4.7. Some examples of the shears recorded in northern Italy: a) Arquà Petrarca, Tomb L (Image after Gamba 1987, 260–1, fig. 16.5); b) Arsago Seprio, Tomb 233 (Image: F. Spagiari after Tassinari 1987, 66); c) Valeggio sul Mincio, Tomb 4 (Image after Salzani 1999, 16, pl. VIA, no. 38); d) Ornavasso, Tomb 137 (Image: F. Spagiari after Piana Agostinetti 1972, 139–40, fig. 139 no. 7); e) Remedello di Sotto, Tomb 14 (Image: F. Spagiari after Vannacci Lunazzi 1977, 20, pl. XVI, no. 3); f) Introbio, 47 ‘Warrior’s Tomb’ (Image after Rapi 2009, 74–6, pl. XXXV, no. 258). Fig. 4.8. a) Probabilistic frequency of activities that the shears recorded in south-eastern Spain could be used for; b) probabilistic frequency of activities that the shears recorded in northern Italy could be used for. The percentage values do not indicate absolute quantities, but ‘probabilistic’ ones, which derive from the sum of the percentages of probability 49 of the specimens recorded. Fig. 5.1. Location of La Yerba II and III, south coast of Peru (after Beresford-Jones et al. 2018, 401). 56 Fig. 5.2. Plant fibre assemblages of La Yerba II and La Yerba III (Image: Author). a) Twined mat (Typhacea); b) fragments of bast fibre fishing net (Asclepias sp.); c) yarn and fragment of fishing net (Scirpus sp.); d) cordage (Asclepias sp.); e) fragment of looped bag (Scirpus sp. (?)) and f) fragment of looped bag (Scirpus sp.).58 Fig. 5.3. A) Cross marks of Sarcostemma bast fibres (TLM); B) dislocation of Sarcostemma bast fibres (SEM) (Images: Author). 59 Fig. 5.4. Bast fibres of: A) Typha; B) Cyperaceae (Images: Author). 60

List of figures Fig. 5.5. SEM micrographs of: A) cf. Sarcostemma bast fibres occurring as single fibres; B) cf. Scirpus fibres occurring as a pack of fibre bundles (Images: Author). Fig. 5.6. A) Modern sample of cotton (Gossypium sp.) fibre; B) microphotograph of Apocynaceae fibre (cf. Sarcostemma) from La Yerba III; C) cotton (Gossypium sp.) yarn (DinoLite 50×), south Peru, Early Horizon; D) Apocynaceae yarn (DinoLite 50×), La Yerba III (Images: Author).  Fig. 5.7. A) micrograph of untwisted fibres of cf. Scirpus (epidermis and bast fibres), La Yerba II; B) micrograph of cut marks in bast fibre, La Yerba III (Images: Author). Fig. 5.8. Specialised tools for fibre production: a) bone needles (possible net-making needles), La Yerba II Trench 1 SU 9522 and SU 9505; b) modified shell Choromytilus, La Yerba III Trench 1 SU 1005; c) obsidian flakes, La Yerba II UE 1004, UE 1007, UE 1010 and UE 1015 and La Yerba III UE 9505, UE 9511, UE 9546 and UE 9550 (images modified after Chauca 2019); d) wooden needle, La Yerba III Trench 1 SU 9523 (Images: Modified from Beresford-Jones et al. 2018 and Chauca 2019). Fig. 5.9. A) ‘Fluffy and white’ Sarcostemma bast fibres (DinoLite 50×); B) ‘stripped and brown’ cf. Scirpus fibres (DinoLite 50×) (Image: Author).  Fig. 5.10. Plied threads from La Yerba II with minimal single thread twisting: a) S2*z yarn, La Yerba II, UE 9013, Unit (M6); b) Z2*s yarn, La Yerba II, UE 9756, Unit (M2) (Images: Author). Fig. 5.11. Textile techniques: A) twining; B) looping; C) knotting; D) spliced yarn (Image: Author). Fig. 6.1. Orenburg region, location of the kurgan burial grounds: 1) Gerasimovka I; 2) Gerasimovka III; 3) Kamenka; 4) Bogolyubovka; 5) Pleshanovo II; 6) Mount Berezovaya (Image: Authors).  Fig. 6.2. Burials containing wool textile fragments: 1) Gerasimovka III 1/3; 2) Gerasimovka I 11/2;  3) Kamenka 2/1; 4) Pleshanovo II 2/2; 5) Bogolyubovka 2/8 (Image: Authors). Fig. 6.3. Kamenka, Kurgan 2, Burial 1. Multi-layered textile fragment: 1) general view and schematic drawing: 1) light-coloured cloth; 1a) second layer of the light-coloured cloth after it was folded back; 1b) third layer of the dark-coloured cloth; 2) dark-coloured cloth; 2) side view and schematic drawing of the fragment: A) microphotography; B) schematic drawing of the layer positioning in the sample: 1) light-coloured cloth, 2) dark-coloured cloth; a) section where two cloth pieces are pressed together; b) section where three layers of the light-coloured cloth and a layer of the dark-coloured cloth are pressed together; c) section where the light-coloured cloth is folded back; d) third layer of the light-coloured cloth; *) place where, most likely, two dark-coloured cloth pieces were joined together with a seam (Image: Authors). Fig. 6.4. Kamenka, Kurgan 2, Burial 1. Multi-layered textile fragment: 1) dark-coloured cloth; A) general view of the fragment; B) schematic drawing of textile weave; 2) bright field microphotographs of wool fibres: A) wool fibres from the yarn of sample 42.1; B) wool fibres from the yarn (Image: Authors). Fig. 6.5. Kamenka, Kurgan 2, Burial 1. Band: 1) general view; 2) schematic drawing of the weave (Image: Authors). Fig. 6.6. Bogolyubovka, Kurgan 2, Burial 8:  1–2) general view of two fragments; 3) schematic drawing of the textile weaves; 4) microphotographs of the wool fibres with various degrees of preservation (Image: Authors). Fig. 6.7. Bogolyubovka, Kurgan 1, Burial 31: 1) general view of the cloth fragment; 2) schematic drawing of the textile weave; 3) microphotographs of the wool fibres (Image: Authors). Fig. 6.8. Bogolyubovka, Kurgan 1, Burial 31: 1) general view of the multi-layered fragment 1; 2) positioning of the layers; 3) microphotographs of the wool fibres (Image: Authors).  Fig. 6.9. Bogolyubovka, Kurgan 1, Burial 31: 1) general view of the multi-layered fragment 2; 2) microphotographs of the wool fibres (Image: Authors). Fig. 6.10. Pleshanovo, Kurgan 2, Burial 2:  1) general view of the fragment; 2) schematic drawing of the weaves; 3) microphotographs of the wool fibres (Image: Authors). Fig. 6.11. Gerasimovka III, Kurgan 1, Burial 3: 1) general view of the band fragment; 2) schematic drawing of the weave; 3) microphotograph of the wool fibres (Image: Authors).

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Fig. 6.12. Gerasimovka III, Kurgan 1, Burial 3: 1) general view of the cloth fragment, sample 1; 2) microphotograph of the cloth, sample 1; 3) microphotographs of the wool fibres: А) sample 1; B) sample 2; 4) schematic drawing of the cloth weaves, sample 1 (Image: Authors). Fig. 6.13. Results of 14С AMS dating of wool textiles (Image: Authors). Fig. 6.14. 87Sr/86Sr ratios in archaeological wool textiles and bioavailable strontium background samples of grass and modern fauna (Image: Authors). Fig. 7.1. Burial 213 on the Deir el-Banat necropolis (Image: S. Ivanov). Fig. 7.2. Schemes of burial shrouds: I) the first group of shrouds from Burial 213: a) the first fabric with tapestry inserts; a*) an element of decoration with birds; b) the second fabric; II) the second group of shrouds with simple decoration: 1 and 2) stripes; 3) a single element; 4 and 5) short stripes and crosses (Image: O. Orfinskaya). Fig. 7.3. The decoration of the burial shroud from the Burial 171 (Image: S. Ivanov). Fig. 7.4. A coloured thread of supplementary weft of the shroud from Burial 221 (Image: O. Orfinskaya). Fig. 7.5. A micrograph of the burial shroud from Burial 252 (Image: O. Orfinskaya). Fig. 7.6. A fringe of the shroud from the Burial 257.2 (Image: O. Orfinskaya). Fig. 7.7. Formation of the decoration of the coarse burial shroud: 1) a micrograph of the area with the decoration; 2) a diagram of the position of the supplementary colour weft; 3) a diagram of weaving in a section with a supplementary weft: A) a row with a ground weft and a supplementary weft; B) a section of decoration with the weave of a supplementary weft in the 1:5 system (Image: O. Orfinskaya). Fig. 7.8. A diagram of connection between the two pieces of fabrics (Image: O. Orfinskaya). Fig. 8.1. EDS data collected from the flax standard. Fig. 8.2. EDS data collected from analysis no. 4Cii. Fig. 8.3. Relative wt% of Calcium (Ca) and Phosphorus (P) in the dataset. Fig. 8.4. EDS data collected from analysis no. 40Dii. Fig. 8.5. EDS data collected from Mastaba 1060. Fig. 8.6. Relative wt% of Chlorine (Cl) and Sodium (Na) in the dataset. Fig. 8.7. SEM image displaying possible zellon consolidant on the fibres of analysis no. 2A (Image: Author). Fig. 8.8. EDS data collected from analysis no. 8A. Fig. 10.1. Distribution map of the main loom weight shapes in western Sicily for each site (Image: Author). Fig. 10.2. Examples of cubic loom weights decorated with painted crosses from Monte Maranfusa (Image: Author, with the permission of Polo Regionale di Palermo per i Parchi e i Musei Archeologici, no. 2726, 6-6-2019).  Fig. 11.1. Visualisation of Abraham Maslow’s ‘Hierarchy of Needs’ (Image: © Natural History Museum Vienna). Fig. 11.2. Hallstatt saltmine, c. 800–400 BC: dense water absorbent textile (fluffy yarn) (a) and light, shiny basket weave (combed yarn) (b) (Image: © Natural History Museum Vienna). Fig. 11.3. Hallstatt saltmine, c. 800–400 BC: tablet-woven bands, patterned repp bands, and checked textiles. Scale: small box is 2 cm wide (Image: © Natural History Museum Vienna; graph: Author). Fig. 11.4. Gold threads from Óbuda in Hungary, c. 1000 BC (© Natural History Museum Vienna). Fig. 11.5. Conical necked vessel from Sopron, c. 600 BC, with depiction of dancing, spinning, and weaving women and a man with lyre (© Natural History Museum Vienna, photo: A. Schumacher). Fig. 12.1. Incoronata and the Greek towns of the Gulf of Taranto (Image: Author). Fig. 12.2. Spindle whorls from Incoronata (a); specimen with traces of wear around the hole (b) (Image: Author). Fig. 12.3. Diagram with identification of the two groups of loom weights (a); undecorated specimens with dimensions and histogram of fabric qualities with two rows of weights on a warp weighted loom (b) (Image: Author). Fig. 12.4. Dimensions of decorated loom weights (a) decorations on the specimens (b) (Drawings after Chiartano 1994; photos: Author). Fig. 12.5. Different groups of textile tools from three tombs at Incoronata. Fig. 12.6. Textile finds at Incoronata (Image: Author).

78 79 81 86

86 87 88 88 89

90 90 97 100 101 101 102 104 104 105 127 128 132 133 135 136 137 142 144 145 146 147 149

List of figures Fig. 12.7. Mineralised tabbies at Incoronata: fibre measurements and SEM analyses (Micrographs: F. Meo; SEM micrographs M. Gleba). Fig. 12.8. Incoronata Tomb 539 and grave goods with mineralised textiles (Drawings: G. Gioia; photographs: M. Gleba). Fig. 12.9. Incoronata Tomb 539: details of fabrics and fur mineralised on the fibula; arrows on a and b indicate warp direction (Images: M. Gleba).

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List of tables

Table 1.1 Summary of the objects analysed for wear traces, divided per site and chronology. Some of the items presented both use and manufacture traces, other items were too fragmentary or damaged to draw safe conclusions. (IA=Iron Age). Table 2.1. The minimum, average, and maximum data from Cornish sites. Table 2.2. CTR method calculations for the loom weights from Cornish sites. Table 5.1. Plant fibre assemblages of La Yerba II and La Yerba III sites. Table 5.2. The technical process of plant fibre technology. Table 5.3. Cordage of the La Yerba II and La Yerba III sites. Table 6.1. Context summary of wool textile finds. Table 6.2. Technological parameters of wool textiles. 14 Table 6.3. C AMS-data of the wool textiles, Middle Volga, southern Urals, Srubnaya culture. Table 8.1. Samples used in EDS analyses. Table 8.2. Elemental classifications. Table 8.3. Inorganic elements present in the samples and fibre standards. Elements represented by a ‘?’ returned a value of < 0.1 wt%. Table 9.1. Indicators of the wrapping type identified in the study (Adapted from Harris and Tayles (2012) to better suit the variations of flexed skeletons). Table 9.2. Overview of visual analysis. Table 9.3. Possible wrapping types identified for each case study. Table 10.1. Calculations of potential loom set-ups with the lightest pseudo-cubic loom weight. Table 12.1. Distribution of textile tools inside tombs. Table 12.2. Textile finds at Incoronata: structural parameters. Table 13.1. Land and labour requirements for the production of flax, hemp, wool, and cotton (based on McCorriston 1997; Olufsen 1812; Whitman 1956).

4 19 20 58 61 63 69 72 79 96 98 98 111 115 119 128 143 148 161

Preface Ian Shaw

As a participant in the conference that formed the basis for this book, I was privileged not only to hear the initial versions of many of the papers published here but also to engage in discussion with the many textile researchers gathered in Liverpool in October 2018. It is now an equal pleasure to contribute this brief preface to a book that will, I am sure, make a lasting contribution to global studies of ancient textiles, particularly in the area of scientific methodology. The geographical and chronological range of the book is impressive, stretching from Cornwall to Peru and Russia, and from early prehistory to the dawn of the Middle Ages. The cutting-edge scientific methods employed include strontium isotope analysis, energy dispersive x-ray spectroscopy, and use-wear analysis, while the more theoretically informed papers take the study of textiles in the direction of such prominent issues as self-representation, neuroarchaeology, socio-economic networking, and mobility of craftworkers. As this book demonstrates, textile production, like other forms of ancient technology, is often deeply embedded in idiosyncratic social and cultural structures. Since my own research over the last few decades has focused primarily on ancient technology, specifically in Egypt and the Eastern Mediterranean, I am hugely aware of the great strides that have been made not only in terms of archaeological methodology across a wide range of materials and crafts, but also with regard to increased recognition of our need to analyse and interpret this new data within relevant theoretical frameworks. Crucially, therefore, many of the papers in this volume not only focus on the application of innovative analytical techniques but also on the profound ways in which society shapes technology, and, conversely, the technological shaping of society itself. How are we to unpick these complex cultural interconnections, when, as Bill Gates has observed: ‘The advance of technology is

based on making it fit in so that you don’t really even notice it, so it’s part of everyday life’? As the editors indicate in their introduction to this book, studies of textiles (and also of the tools used to produce them) have been very much a part of the inexorable rise of combinations of scientific and theoretical approaches to early technology. Our AHRC-funded project at the University of Liverpool (‘Contextualizing textiles: using the Bolton Museum collection to explore social and international contexts of Egyptian Bronze Age-Islamic cloth’), pursued jointly with Bolton Museum, and incorporating the PhD research of two of the editors of this volume, has hopefully played a small role in this process of change, at least in the relatively neglected area of ancient Egyptian and Nubian textile studies. The subtitle of this volume focuses on ‘pushing boundaries’, and many of the papers in these pages clearly indicate that progress in textile research methodology in recent years has often been radical and paradigm-changing rather than simply incremental. Two good examples of such leaps forward in recent years that are highlighted in the introduction to this volume are, firstly, the increasing recognition that splicing was an important aspect of textile production in most ‘cloth cultures’, and, secondly, the increasing ability of traceological analysis of textile tools to elicit subtle distinctions between actual use wear and the effects of manufacturers’ marks and post-depositional actions. Such specialist studies of both textiles and tools have been particularly enhanced by the work of the Centre for Textile Research at the University of Copenhagen, which has clearly been the single biggest influence on modern archaeological approaches to textiles, and its multifarious contributions can be seen in most of the papers gathered here.

Introduction: Ancient tools and textiles – Thinking outside the box Gabriella Longhitano, Sarah Hitchens, Alistair Dickey, and Margarita Gleba

Advances in methodological practices and analytical techniques continue to push forward the rigour of archaeological textile research. For example, in 2021, Neolithic textile material from Çatalhöyük, studied on multiple occasions in the past (Burnham 1965; Ryder 1965; Vogelsang-Eastwood 1987; Rast-Eicher and Jørgensen 2018), was re-identified as tree bast using Scanning Electron Microscopy (Rast-Eicher, Karg, and Bender Jørgensen 2021). Similar re-analysis of material from Wadi Mubarra’at (Israel), 9500 cal BC (Shamir and Rast-Eicher 2020), has also led to a re-identification of the fibre, again, tree bast. Dye analysis of Iron Age textiles recovered from Danish bogs using High Performance Liquid Chromatography demonstrated that 80% of them were dyed and brightly coloured rather than decorated using naturally pigmented wool only (Vanden Berghe et al. 2009). This shows that there are always new details to (re)discover in textile research, even when it comes to the old and well-known finds, which have the potential to drastically change our understanding of past activities relating to textile production. Methodological development is constantly ongoing, as it seeks to meet the needs and aspirations of textile and broader archaeological and historical investigations. The case studies presented in this book aim to reflect upon the status of the viability and applicability of certain current methodological approaches within the wider archaeological textile research field. This includes a wide array of indirect and direct evidence of textile activity and its products. Over the past two decades, numerous important developments in excavation, documentation, and conservation methodologies have allowed new evidence to be recovered, ranging from fragments of extant garments to mineralised and imprinted textiles to a range of textile implements. With the advancement of the research, a plethora of scientific studies have been established to let these new sources of evidence unravel their stories. In turn, this has been bringing into motion a wider discussion on how to combine in rigorous ways analytical and more traditional approaches for extracting comparable data from (often recalcitrant) assemblages.

The preservation of textiles One of the main problems within archaeological textile research is the unevenly distributed evidence in the archaeological record. As organic material, textiles are inherently liable to decomposition, unless specific conditions alter this natural process (Wild 1988; Peacock 2005; Jones et al. 2007). Hyper-arid climates like Peru (Beresford-Jones et al. 2018) or Egypt (Barber 1991; Kemp and Vogelsang-Eastwood 2001), wet or waterlogged environments (Felding 2016; Knight et al. 2019), permafrost conditions as found in Greenland (Østergaard 2004; Hayeur Smith 2014), the presence of salt (Bichler et al. 2005; Grömer et al. 2013; Grömer and Rösel-Mautendorfer 2014), or exposure to fire leading to charring (Rast-Eicher and Dietrich 2015; Rast-Eicher, Karg, and Bender Jørgensen 2021) will often afford unique preservation conditions for textiles and fibres. The likelihood of a textile surviving in the archaeological record also depends on the type of fibre the textile is made from. Animal fibres survive better in acidic environments whilst plant fibres preserve better in more alkaline environments (Cybulska and Maik 2007; Mannering and Skals 2014). Furthermore, textiles survive in archaeological contexts much more frequently than is commonly believed, in the form of imprints (Jansone 2017; Rammo 2019; Ulanowska 2021) or mineralised fragments (Chen et al. 1996, 1998; Price and Gleba 2012; Margariti and Papadimitriou 2014; Gleba 2017; Meo in this volume). Even when textiles themselves do not survive, their presence can be inferred from the position of skeletal remains in a burial (James in this volume). Indeed, the quantity of archaeological material is constantly increasing, particularly thanks to improved excavation and conservation procedures (Jones et al. in Gillis and Nosch 2007), as in the case of the amazing Late Bronze Age textile and fibre finds from Must Farm in the UK (Knight et al. 2019).

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The preservation of textile tools Unlike the textiles themselves, textile tools are frequently discovered at archaeological sites and constitute the single most important and plentiful type of evidence for the assessment of the technology, techniques, scale of production, and thus the economic aspects of past textile industries (Andersson 2003; Gleba 2008; Andersson Strand and Nosch 2015). Indeed, on many archaeological sites, the only evidence for the presence of textiles comes in the form of tools used in spinning and weaving. This is often in the form of spindle whorls and loom weights as they were often made from inorganic material such as clay, metal, or stone and thus survive well in the archaeological record. However, other textile implements such as distaffs (Rahmstorf 2015; Langgut et al. 2016), needles (Adams 1996; Walton Rogers 1997; Adams and Adams 1998), spindles (Walton Rogers 1997; Adams 2013; Langgut et al. 2016), spinning bowls (Dothan 1963; Kemp and Vogelsang-Eastwood 2001; Ruiz de Haro 2018; Spinazzi-Lucchesi 2020), shears (Walton Rogers 1997; Notis and Sugar 2003; Rosell Garrido and Spagiari in this volume), shuttles (Adams and Adams 1998; Adams 2013), weaving combs (Adams 2010, 2013), and weaving tablets (Adams 1996; Gleba 2008) have also been excavated. Implements such as distaffs, spindles, shuttles, and weaving combs are usually made from organic materials such as wood or bone and often do not survive in the archaeological record.

Analytical techniques applied to the study of textiles In recent decades, various scientific methods have been co-opted from other disciplines to aid in fibre and dye identification, fibre analysis, and determination of whole textile structures. The combination of scientific knowledge and hardware using e.g. digital portable microscopes (such as Dino-Lite), Scanning Electron Microscope-Energy Dispersive X-ray Spectroscopy (SEM-EDS; see Dickey in this volume), Portable X-Ray Fluorescence (pXRF), and Attenuated Total Reflection-Fourier Transform Infrared Reflectance (ATR-AFTIR), have allowed textiles to be measured and described in new ways and often in great detail. The methods used in the analysis of archaeological textiles range from traditional structural analysis using a hand lens to the advanced methods mentioned previously. When possible, technical analysis of textiles should be nondestructive and based upon visual examination. The basic analysis of any textile should include the following: textile dimensions, weave type, thread diameter, spin direction, and twist angle, thread count, colour description, and a record of selvedges, fringes, or borders, decorative elements, structural sewing, wear and tear, as well as a general description of the textile (Walton and Eastwood 1988). This information

can be collected with just the use of a hand lens or a stereomicroscope, depending on the quality and preservation of the textile and the size of the fragment. One of the recent advances in textile structural analysis is the wider recognition of splicing, one of the earliest yarn-making technologies used, in prehistoric Europe and western Asia (Gleba and Harris 2019), as well as in South America (Beresford-Jones et al. 2018). It is well attested in prehistoric European contexts such as the Neolithic pile-dwelling settlements in eastern Switzerland (Leuzinger and Rast-Eicher 2011). Splicing was also a common technique used in linen production during the Chalcolithic period in the southern Levant (Shamir 2015) and was also commonly used in ancient Egypt (Cooke et al. 1991; Granger-Taylor 1998, 2003; Kemp and Vogelsang-Eastwood 2001; Dickey 2019). Its recognition as a ubiquitous technique in the past forces scholars to re-evaluate the textile chaîne opératoire and the use of certain tools, such as spindle whorls in the Neolithic and Early Bronze Age.

Fibre identification and analysis Some of the most significant advances in textile archaeology over the last decade have been in fibre identification and analysis. Identification of fibres is important as it provides valuable information about the use of wild and cultivated textile resources. Archaeological textile fibres can be divided into three groups: animal, plant, and mineral (such as asbestos). The most common fibres encountered in archaeological contexts, however, are those derived from plants and animals. They are distinguishable by their molecular composition as plant fibres are cellulose based and animal fibres are made of proteins. One of the oldest methods used in the identification of fibres is the burn test. By design, it is destructive and provides little information beyond the fact that animal or plant material was used. Textile samples that are highly degraded can be identified using chemical tests such as solubility measurements. However, chemical tests such as zinc chloride iodide can only provide information about the biological source of the fibre (Gleba 2008, 64). Chemical and solubility tests are unable to distinguish between different species of animals and plants (Landi 1998; Gleba 2008). Currently, the fastest, most affordable, and easiest means by which to identify archaeological textiles fibres is microscopy since it allows for much closer observation of fibre structures. This includes techniques such as interference microscopy, Transmitted Light Microscopy (TLM), Polarised Light Microscopy (PLM), Scanning Electron Microscopy (SEM), including the Environmental Scanning Electron Microscopy (ESEM) and Variable Pressure SEM, and Transmission Electron Microscopy (TEM). Unless the fibres are heavily degraded, distinguishing between plant and animal fibres is generally straightforward. The principal

Introduction: Ancient tools and textiles – Thinking outside the box morphological features of animal fibres are cuticular scales, the shape and position of which on the fibre’s surface can be diagnostic for different species (Appleyard 1960; Textile Institute 1985, 5; Rast-Eicher 2016, 11–13). Plant bast fibres have characteristic nodes or dislocations, while cotton, a seed fibre, has a ribbon-like structure with convolutions (Rast-Eicher 2016, 14, 73). Microscopic methods, however, are less reliable in distinguishing between fibres of different species of plants or animals that have similar characteristics. Thus, many bast fibres share common features such as a lumen, dislocations (nodes), and cross markings (Haugan and Holst 2014, 952). These shared features make it difficult to distinguish between different bast fibres (Lukesova 2017). Recently, numerous studies have attempted to develop additional protocols that might help resolve bast fibre identification problems, focusing on features such as fibre and lumen cross-sections (Lukesova and Holst 2021), fibre microfibrillar orientation (Bergfjord and Holst 2010), and other morphological traits. To date, most of these studies have primarily focused on European bast fibres (flax, hemp, nettle), but these approaches are beginning to be expanded to species used in the Pacific (Patterson, Lowe, and Smith 2017) and South America (Alday in this volume). Plant fibres, particularly tree-bast and bast fibres like flax, were the first raw material used to make mats, strings, cords, etc. (Rast-Eicher 2005; Breniquet 2008, 85–90; Karg 2011; Banck-Burgess 2018; Karg et al. 2018; Médard 2018), and they have remained in use even after the introduction of animal fibres. Among these, sheep wool has been the major fibre for textile making. Yet, although the sheep domestication process commenced in the Fertile Crescent approximately 9000 years ago, the direct evidence for the use of wool fibre in textile production can be dated back no earlier than the fourth millennium BC (Good 1999). In the following millennia, wool became an important and, in some areas, the primary textile material (Sabatini and Bergerbrant 2020; Shishlina et al. in this volume). The reason for this relatively late adoption of wool as a textile material is the fact that the early domesticated sheep did not look anything like the modern animals and produced very little usable fibre. The modern wool fleeces were achieved through selective breeding of sheep (Ryder 1969, 1983). The ever-increasing number of analysed samples demonstrates that Bronze Age sheep had fleeces with extremely fine underwool and coarse hair and kemp, but by the Iron Age they were more homogeneous (Rast-Eicher 2008; Gleba 2012; Rast-Eicher 2013). These developments happened earlier in some areas than others, so that when large sets of textiles are analysed, distribution patterns permit the identification of fleeces that do not fit the general pattern and may therefore be identified as of nonlocal origin (Rast-Eicher and Bender Jørgensen 2013, 1231).

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Microscopy is useful for identifying relatively well-preserved plant and animal fibres, however, the most reliable way to distinguish between different species of animal fibres is by ancient DNA analysis or palaeoproteomics. These biomolecular methods can also answer deeper questions such as the origins of the raw materials used, species, or even breed identification, and provide more precise dating. Studies on ancient DNA may be used in the identification of animal species as well as specific gene development studies such as those observed in the evolution of wool and hair or animal migration and domestication (Ørsted Brandt and Allentoft 2020). Polymerase Chain Reaction Sequencing and Mass Spectrometry-Based Peptide Sequencing has also been used to study ancient rope fibres from the Christmas Cave in Israel and to distinguish between flax and hemp fibres (Murphy et al. 2011). Another method to identify animals to species is proteomics. For example, analysis of relict proteins has shown that the Salish of west coast North America made their blankets out of dog hair, interweaving it with goat, and that the woolly dog was superseded by sheep by the late nineteenth century (Solazzo et al. 2011).

Dye identification Addition of colour has been an integral part of textile making, contributing to pattern design (Cardon 2007). Yet, archaeological textiles often survive as discoloured rags or mineralised formations, making it difficult to visualise what colour they originally had. This can in some cases be reconstructed through dye and mordant analysis using High or Ultra-Performance Liquid Chromatography, HPLC/ UPLC (Vanden Berghe et al. 2009). The technique allows identification of chemical dye components and their combination, which can then be matched to the database of known plant and animal dye sources.

Dating Until recently, textiles were dated primarily using methods of relative dating, which are based on context or comparison of the object to similar items found on dated archaeological sites, yet the results are simply terminus ante quem as the textile may have been old when it was buried. Furthermore, the traditions of continuity meant that certain technical or artistic features were reproduced virtually unchanged for centuries, thus one item seemingly identical to another could have been made hundreds of years later or indeed earlier than the ‘dated’ example. The most consistent way to accurately date fibres has been by using radiocarbon analysis. It is a radiometric dating method that uses the naturally occurring radioisotope carbon-14 (14C) to estimate the age of carbon-bearing (i.e. organic) materials. The Accelerator Mass Spectrometry method (AMS), developed in the last 20 years is proving a particularly important dating tool. Textiles made over 500 years ago are especially suitable for 14C dating

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and may even give more precise dates than other material (Mannering et al. 2010). Dating a large number of textiles, particularly of a specific type, can help in tracing chronological developments in the spread of textile technologies (e.g. in the case of wool, see Shishlina et al. in this volume) and styles.1 The technique is also important for the identification of fakes and forgeries, as well as textiles without well-known provenance. For example, recent re-dating of a textile from the Hallstatt salt mine presumed to date to the Bronze Age has shown that they in fact are from the sixteenth century AD (Grömer et al. 2020). Another old textile find from the Vesuvian area assumed to be of Roman date, also turned out to be much later (Galli et al. 2018, 276).

Provenance Identifying the provenance of archaeological textiles in absolute terms is often difficult, if not impossible. Developments in strontium isotope tracing have seen its application in provenancing organic materials, thus aiding in ancient human and animal mobility studies. Strontium isotope ratios have recently been shown to be a useful indicator for wool fibre provenance in some cases. Strontium analyses of some Danish Iron Age textiles found in bogs demonstrate that not all of them had a local origin (Frei et al. 2009a, 2009b). This method was used in the analysis of the Egtved Girl and her garments, buried in an oak coffin in Denmark dated to 1500–1100 BC (Frei et al. 2015). The use of Sr to provenance textiles is somewhat controversial, however, since studies indicate that 87Sr/86Sr ratios of archaeological wool textiles recovered from wet burial environments do not accurately reflect wool provenance even after cleaning (von Holstein et al. 2016) and the isoscapes may have been affected by recent anthropogenic factors (Thomsen and Andreasen 2019). In addition to strontium, combined carbon, nitrogen, and hydrogen isotopes can also be used in archaeology to establish geographic origin. Gradients in stable isotopes identified in modern studies of European sheep meat and wool have now been successfully applied to medieval archaeological wool samples from Iceland, the United Kingdom, Germany, and Sweden. Analysis has shown the isotopic composition of wool and bone collagen samples clustered strongly by settlement, demonstrating the feasibility of provenancing keratin preserved in anoxic waterlogged contexts (van Holstein et al. 2016).

Analytical techniques applied to the study of textile tools Until recently, textile tool studies involved the cataloguing of finds and development of their typologies based on shapes (Crewe 1998; Rahmstorf 2015). A major impetus to textile studies in Mediterranean Europe and more broadly has been without doubt the establishment of the Centre for

Textile Research (CTR) at the University of Copenhagen in 2005, funded by the Danish National Research Foundation. The Tools and Textiles Texts and Contexts project has revolutionised the way we study textile tools not only in the Mediterranean but across past cultures.2 The new methods developed at CTR allow researchers to calculate the range of textile qualities obtainable using specific tools – an indispensable tool in the absence of actual textiles on many sites. More recently, however, this methodology has been found difficult to apply to other geographical areas and periods. Several papers in this volume highlight the necessity of experimenting with CTR methodology to adapt it to other kinds of assemblages (Ferrero in this volume; Meo in this volume), less well-studied techniques such as splicing and braiding, and to use it in conjunction with other core methodologies such as GIS (Grzybalska 2010). Reflection upon methodology as a whole has prompted some authors to extend the focus on less studied artefacts such as shears (Rosell Garrido and Spagiari in this volume).

Spindle whorl analysis The weight, diameter, and height of a spindle whorl affects how the whorl spins and influences the type of yarn produced. They are also the three most important measurements needed for the analysis of spindle whorls (Andersson Strand and Nosch 2015, 146). The material from which the whorl was made, its shape, perforation diameter, and decoration are also important to note (Liu 1978; Barber 1991, 39–78; Crewe 1998; Andersson and Nosch 2015). These attributes are part of the whorl’s functional characteristics. The two most important measurements are weight and diameter (Smith and Tzachili 2012, 144). The weight of a spindle whorl influences how the tool spins and the thickness of yarns produced. It is generally accepted that heavier whorls were used to spin thicker yarns and lighter whorls were used to spin thinner yarns (Olofsson 2015, 32). Thinner yarns also contain fewer fibres than thicker yarns which contain more fibres. It has been suggested that heavier whorls are better for spinning thicker or longer fibres such as flax, while lighter whorls are best for spinning shorter fibres such as wool (Crewe 1998, 5–7; Smith and Tzachili 2012, 144). Whorl diameter is the second most important measurement needed for the analysis of spindle whorls. The whorl’s diameter determines how fast it will rotate on a spindle and, as a result, how it will influence the tightness of the fibre spun (Smith and Tzachili 2012, 144). However, some spinning experiments showed that the skill of the individual spinner influenced the quality of the spun yarn more than the whorl’s mass, moment of inertia, or the fibre (Kania 2013). The nature of fibre used also has an effect on the type of tool used (Andersson 1999, 2003, 25).

Introduction: Ancient tools and textiles – Thinking outside the box In the end, it is the relationship between all these parameters that influences and determines the functionality of the spindle and its whorl as well as the types of yarns produced (Hudson 2014).

Loom weight analysis The primary function of loom weights is to keep the warp of a warp-weighted loom taut by tying them to the warp threads. The warp-weighted loom was used from the Neolithic period onward over a large geographical area, comprising most of Europe and parts of western Asia (Barber 1991). Weights are often recovered on archaeological sites as they were most often made of fired or unfired clay, although stone examples are also known (e.g. Hoffmann 1964; Poursat 2012). They can thus be used as a proxy for textile production, particularly in places where organic preservation of textiles is poor. For example, the adoption of Cretan-style discoid loom weights at a number of Bronze Age settlements across the southern Aegean has been used to trace the spread of the warp-weighted loom across the region (Cutler 2021). Loom weights can also be used as cultural indicators and also allow us to track craftspeople’s mobility (Cutler 2021; Longhitano in this volume). Theoretically, anything of sufficient weight can be used as loom weight, even simple stones or pebbles, as long as there is a hole or some other feature allowing the warp threads to be attached to it securely. However, the type of weight affects the weaving process. Ethnographic studies have recorded a wide variety of shapes and sizes. The biggest loom weights recorded weigh more than 3 kg (Hoffmann 1964, 21). Hoffmann (1964, 42) also reported in Scandinavian communities the use of loom weights of remarkably different sizes in the same loom set up. Women simply tied proportionately more warp threads to heavier weights, and fewer to the lighter ones for producing very coarse fabrics. Experimental tests with warp-weighted looms have been carried out since the 1940s with the main focus on the textile to be reconstructed (e.g. Broholm and Hald 1940; Andersson Strand and Nosch 2015). Overall, these tests have shown that weight and thickness are the primary functional parameters of a loom weight. The weight of the loom weight plays a crucial role as, in combination with the thread diameter, it determines the thread tension, namely the required weight to keep the warp in place during weaving, and the number of threads that can be attached to a single loom weight. However, it is worth noting that the warp tension depends also on how tightly the yarns are spun, on the fibre quality, and on how well fibres have been cleaned and sorted (see e.g. Andersson Strand 2015, 39–44). Thickness is another important factor that has been investigated by experimental studies. Thickness determines how closely the loom weights hang side by side, and this has a major effect on the density and on the quality of the

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weave. In general, it has been demonstrated that the thicker the loom weight the looser the weave, the thinner the loom weight the denser the fabric. Also, tests have shown that it should be preferable to use loom weights with a total width, when hanging in a row, which is identical or slightly larger than the width of the fabric to be produced. Indeed, warp threads hanging outwards, or inwards would not be optimal as the threads would not be evenly distributed and the weaving would not be either even or regular (Olofsson et al. 2015, 91–2). Experiments were carried out to test whether a find should be interpreted as loom weight or not, as in the case of the so-called spools (e.g. Ræder Knudsen 2012; Olofsson et al. 2015). Their function has been widely debated, as no ancient representations of spools as we understand them (for holding thread) exist.

Use wear analysis Another important development in textile tool studies has been the use wear analysis. Studying the use wear marks on the surface of textile tools can help identify the possible use of an artefact as not all round perforated objects are spindle whorls nor were all tools found in graves used. This approach has its starting point in the assumption that different stages of tool production, use, and discard leave differing marks on the tool’s surface. This type of analysis is not new and has been applied to ceramic vessels (Skibo 2015). However, traceological analysis has only recently been carried out on ceramic spindle whorls and spools (Forte and Lemorini 2017). Recent traceological analysis of Italian ceramic textile tools dated to the first millennium BC as well as of experimental ceramic textile tools has allowed researchers to distinguish between manufacturing marks (modelling, surface treatments, and firing techniques), use wear marks, and damage caused by post-depositional processes (Forte and Lemorini 2017). It is not always easy to demonstrate that weights were used as loom weights, unless they are found in sets (Wild 1970, 62; Barber 1991, 92–3). Other objects, such as thatch weights, spit supports over fires, pot supports, fishnet weights, or supports for spindle to facilitate the unwinding of the spun thread onto a spool or into a ball, might be confused with loom weights (Wace and Thompson 1912, 43, fig. 19; Mingazzini 1974, 209–11, 215; Barber 1991, 97, n. 11; Buchner and Rittmann 1948, 40, fig. 9 in Gleba 2008, 127). Loom weights could also be (re)used for some of these other functions. In some cases, the analysis of use wear marks can help to distinguish these different functions. It might be possible to recognise abrasions above the hole(s) caused by the friction of the warp thread or other intermediary device (e.g. metal rings, cords, or bar) tied to the loom weight. In case of unpierced weights, abrasions can be seen around the exterior, caused by the friction of the warp thread wound around the weight. Moreover, fractures

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or cracks along the sides or corners might be caused by the continuous contact of the loom weights rubbing and hitting while hanging from the loom. More diverse traceological analysis and experimentation on different types of textile tools as well as tools made from a wider variety of materials other than ceramic is needed. This is slowly changing by researchers looking at bone and stone implements from prehistoric Spain (de Diego et al. 2018), Egypt and the Levant (Spinazzi-Lucchesi in this volume).

Overview of the book This volume stems from a conference ‘Exploring Textiles and Textile Working from Prehistory to AD 500’ that was held at the University of Liverpool in October 2018, which gathered individuals with a shared interest in textile studies in order to discuss the current state of methodologies applied to textile research. From this it became clear that the established methodologies, excellent as they are, needed to further push the boundaries of textile research. The aim of this volume is hence to examine some of the methodologies used in the study of both textiles and textile tools. The volume covers a broad chronological timeframe (seventh millennium BC–first millennium AD) and geographical area (Europe, Asia, Africa, and South America). Some papers focus on evidence from countries where very favourable preservation conditions exist. This contrasts with those that focus on evidence from areas where textile preservation is limited and/or research must be based substantially on legacy data. The volume therefore investigates how researchers dealing with different kinds or qualities of data can share methodologies to different degrees and draw upon each other’s work to expand our understanding of wider textile manufacture and use. The book is divided into three sections, each exploring different aspects of textile-related analysis from textile implements and woven cloth to broader cultural questions. Part I focuses on the analysis of textile implements from various cultures; Part II explores different analytical techniques used in the investigation of fibres and textiles; while Part III examines how tools and textiles can be used to explore and express different cultural aspects such as land use, labour, personal identity, networks of craftspeople, and status.

Part I: Application of analytical techniques on tools Part I encompasses papers focusing on analytical methodologies applied to the study of various textile implements used in the textile production chaîne opératoire from fibre procurement to finished product. In chapter 1, Chiara Spinazzi-Lucchesi examines wear traces on Egyptian and Levantine textile tools (fourth–mid-first millennium BC) made of stone and bone and points out how further

methodological development is needed in such analysis. Lewis Ferrero presents the evidence of textile processing in Iron Age Cornwall (500 BC–AD 300) in chapter 2. Applying the CTR methodology, this research examines tool characteristics and uses them to compare inter-site tool and textile manufacturing. Chapter 3 explores tools and textile impressions from Iron Age (eighth–fourth centuries BC) Donja Dolina in northern Bosnia and Herzegovina. Julia Fileš Kramberger demonstrates the rich data that can be drawn from a combined spindle whorl and thread impression analysis. Part I finishes with Patricia Rosell Garrido and Fabio Spagiari comparing shears from the pre-Roman southern Spain (sixth–first centuries BC) and northern Italy (second century BC–fifth century AD) to contextualise the shears in both funerary and settlement contexts and to define the functional characteristics and social aspects of this under-investigated tool.

Part II: Application of analytical techniques on textiles and fibres Part II examines a range of methodological approaches in the study and analysis of textiles and fibres. In chapter 5, Camila Alday presents findings from an archaeobotanical and structural analysis of fibres and textiles from the Middle Preceramic period (7000–5000 BP) in Peru, including evidence of spliced plant fibre technology forming the earliest thread technology in woven Andean textiles. Chapter 6 focuses on Bronze Age (nineteenth– fifteenth century BC) wool textiles discovered in burials in the Orenburg region in the southern Urals of Russia. Natalia Shishlina and colleagues use structural analysis, as well as isotopic tracing and radiocarbon dating, to suggest a local origin for some of the earliest wool finds in Eurasia. In chapter 7, Olga Orfinsaya and Darya Klyuchnikova discuss the methodology of using existing textiles to reconstruct the loom set-up used in the weaving of burial shrouds from Deir el-Banat, Egypt (first century BC–tenth century AD). Alistair Dickey then discusses the use of Energy Dispersive X-ray Spectroscopy (EDS) in chapter 8, presenting data that offers potential insights into the context and life-history of Neolithic to Early Dynastic (mid-fifth to early third millennium BC) Egyptian textiles. Part II concludes with a paper by Eleanor James, who applies the archaeothanatological approach to Early Bronze Age (2500–1200 BC) burials in Britain, demonstrating that textiles were used as wrappings, thus suggesting that past conclusions over burial practices need to be reassessed.

Part III: Cultural and personal identity Part III deals with questions of a cultural nature. More specifically, what textiles and textile-processing implements can tell us about themes such as craft specialisation, labour, personal identity, status, and trade. In chapter 10, Gabriella

Introduction: Ancient tools and textiles – Thinking outside the box Longhitano discusses networks of craftspeople and cultural identity through an analysis of different loom weight types and distribution across Archaic Sicily (eighth–fifth century BC). Karina Grömer then revisits textiles from the Hallstatt culture of the first millennium BC in central Europe by applying theories from psychology and the neurosciences to examine why textile craft developed at all. In the penultimate chapter, Francesco Meo uses the analysis of textile fragments and textile tools discovered at the Iron Age necropolis of Incoronata in southern Italy (ninth–eighth century BC) to discuss the types of textiles produced by the craftspeople of the area as well as the status of the people interred at the necropolis. Chapter 13, by Lise Bender Jørgensen, considers aspects of land use, raw materials needed, and labour involved in the production of sailcloth during the Viking Age and how this can be translated into thinking about similar demands placed upon first-millennium BC Mediterranean societies.

Conclusion The papers in this book aim to show the new and varied research going on in the field of textile studies around the world. The diverse approaches presented in this volume build upon the CTR functional tool analysis, archaeothanatology, archaeobotany, traceology, instrumental applications such SEM-EDS, radiocarbon dating, isotopic tracing, and applications of theories from the neurosciences. The individual papers, however, illustrate how these methodologies need adapting and broadening to better suit the ever-increasing material available for study in differing parts of the world. By adopting, adapting, and evolving the established methodologies, more questions and information can be garnered from the available research material and lead to a broader understanding of textiles, textile processing implements, and the wider role they play in society.

Acknowledgements We would like to thank the University of Liverpool for hosting the conference and all those who volunteered their time to make the day happen. We would also like to thank everyone who attended, making it such a fruitful experience for all. A special mention also goes to Professors Lin Foxhall and Ian Shaw at the University of Liverpool for their support and encouragement to pursue this topic further by considering the publication of the papers. We would also like to thank Professor John-Peter Wild for agreeing to be a consulting editor, bringing all his experience and knowledge as the project took shape. We are also greatly indebted to all the peer reviewers and experts for generously giving their time and expertise in reviewing the papers and providing corrections, suggestions, and endorsements of great value.

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Notes 1

A large and constantly updated database of Graeco-Roman textile radiocarbon dates is available in Open Access: https://www.christliche-archaeologie.uni-bonn.de/textiliendatenbank [accessed 31.01.2022]. 2 https://ctr.hum.ku.dk/research-programmes-and-projects/ previous-programmes-and-projects/tools/ [accessed 31.01.2022].

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Rahmstorf, L. (2015) An introduction to the investigation of archaeological textile tools. In E. Andersson Strand and M.-L. Nosch (eds), Tools, Textiles and Contexts. Investigating Textile Production in the Aegean and Eastern Mediterranean Bronze Age, 1–24. Ancient Textiles Series 21. Oxford, Oxbow Books. Rammo, R. (2019) Textile-impressed pottery revisited: Its usefulness for studying Bronze Age textile craft in Estonia. Światowit. 56, 111–19. DOI:10.5604/01.3001.0012.8478. Rast-Eicher, A. (2005) Bast before wool: The first textiles. In P. Bichler, K. Gromer, R. Hofmann-de Keijzer, A. Kern, and H. Reschreiter (eds), Hallstatt Textiles. Technical Analysis, Scientific Investigation and Experiment on Iron Age Textiles, 117–32. BAR International Series 1351. Oxford, Archaeopress. Rast-Eicher, A. (2008) Textilien, Wolle, Schaffe der Eisenzeit in der Schweiz. Antiqua 44. Basel, Archäologie Schweiz. Rast-Eicher, A. (2013) The fibre quality of skins and textiles from Hallstatt salt mines. In Grömer, K., Kern, A., Reschreiter, H. and Rösel-Mautendorfer, H. (eds), Textiles from Hallstatt. Weaving Culture in Bronze Age and Iron Age Salt Mines, 163–78. Archaeolingua 29. Budapest, Archaeolingua. Rast-Eicher, A. (2016) Fibres. Microscopy of Archaeological Textiles and Furs. Budapest, Archaeolingua. Rast-Eicher, A. and Bender-Jørgensen, L. (2013) Sheep wool in Bronze Age and Iron Age Europe. Journal of Archaeological Science 40, 1224–41. Rast-Eicher, A. and Bender Jørgensen, L. (2018) News from Çatalhöyük. Archaeological Textiles Review 60, 100–4. Rast-Eicher, A. and Dietrich, A. (2015) Neolithische und bronzezeitliche Gewebe und Geflechte. Die Funde aus den Seeufersiedlungen im Kanton Zürich. Zürich, Baudirektion Kanton Zürich. Rast-Eicher, A., Karg, S. and Bender Jørgensen, L. (2021) The use of local fibres for textiles at Neolithic Çatalhöyük. Antiquity 95 (383), 1129–44. DOI:10.15184/aqy.2021.89. Ruiz de Haro, M.I. (2018) From east to west: The use of spinning bowls from the Chalcolithic period to the Iron Age. In M. Siennicka, L. Rahmstorf, and A. Ulanowska (eds), First Textiles: The Beginnings of Textile Manufacture in Europe and the Mediterranean, 81–90. Ancient Textile Series 32. Oxford, Oxbow Books. Ryder, M.L. (1965) Report of textiles from Çatal Hüyük. Anatolian Studies 15, 175–6. Ryder, M.L. (1969) Changes in the fleece of sheep following domestication. In P.J. Ucko and G.W. Dimbleby (eds), The Domestication and Exploitation of Plants and Animals, 495–521. London, Duckworth. Ryder, M.L. (1983) Sheep and Man. London, Duckworth. Sabatini, S. and Bergerbrant, S. (eds) (2020) The Textile Revolution in Bronze Age Europe: Production, Specialisation, Consumption. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Shamir, O. and Rast-Eicher, A. (2020) Continuity and discontinuity in Neolithic and Chalcolithic linen textile production in the southern Levant. In W. Schier and S. Pollock (eds), The Competition of Fibres: Early Textile Production in Western Asia, South-east and Central Europe (10,000–500 BCE), 27–37. Ancient Textiles Series 36. Oxford, Oxbow Books.

Skibo, J.M. (2015) Pottery use-alteration analysis. In J.M. Marreiros, J.F. Gibaja Bao, and N. Ferreira Bicho (eds), Use-Wear and Residue Analysis in Archaeology, 189–98. Cham, Springer. Smith, J. and Tzachili, I. (2012) Cloth in Crete and Cyprus. In G. Cadogan, M. Iacovou, J. Whitley, and K. Kopaka (eds), Parallel Lives: Ancient Island Societies in Crete and Cyprus, 141–55. British School at Athens Studies 20. London, British School at Athens. Solazzo, C., Heald, S., Ballard, M.W., Ashford, D.A., DePriest, P.T., Koestler, R.J. and Collins, M.J. (2011) Proteomics and Coast Salish blankets: A tale of shaggy dogs? Antiquity 85 (330), 1418–32. Spinazzi-Lucchesi, C. (2020) A re-assessment of spinning bowls: New evidence from Egypt and Levant. In M. Iamoni (ed.), From the Prehistory of Upper Mesopotamia to the Bronze and Iron Age Societies of the Levant, Vol. 1 Proceedings of the 5th ‘Broadening Horizons’ Conference, Udine 5–8 June 2017, 271–9. Trieste, EUT Edizioni Università di Trieste. The Textile Institute (1985) Identification of Textile Materials. 7th ed. Manchester, The Textile Institute. Thomsen, E. and Andreasen, R. (2019) Agricultural lime disturbs natural strontium isotope variations: Implications for provenance and migration studies. Science Advances 13 Mar 2019, 5 (3). DOI:10.1126/sciadv.aav8083. Ulanowska, A. (2021) Textile uses in administrative practices in Bronze Age Greece: New evidence of textile impressions from the undersides of clay sealings. In M. Bustamante-Álvarez, E.H. Sánchez López, and J. Jiménez Ávila (eds), PURPUREAE VESTES VII. Textiles and Dyes in Antiquity. Redefining Ancient Textile Handcraft. Structures, Tools and Production Processes, 413–24. Granada, University of Granada Press. Vanden Berghe, I., Gleba, M. and Mannering, U. (2009) Towards the identification of dyestuffs in Early Iron Age Scandinavian peat bog textiles. Journal of Archaeological Science 36 (9), 1910–21. Vogelsang-Eastwood, G. (1987) A re-examination of the fibres from the Çatal Hüyük textiles. Oriental Carpet and Textile Studies 3 (1), 15–19. von Holstein, I.C.C., Walton Rogers, P., Craig, O.E., Penkman, K.E.H., Newton, J. and Collins, M.J. (2016) Provenancing archaeological wool textiles from medieval northern Europe by light stable isotope analysis (δ13C, δ15N, δ2H). PLoS ONE 11 (10), e0162330. DOI:10.1371/journal.pone.0162330. Wace, A.J.B. and Thompson, M.S. (1912) Prehistoric Thessaly. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Walton Rogers, P. (1997) Textile Production at 16–22 Coppergate. York, Council for British Archaeology. Walton, P. and Eastwood, G. (1988) A Brief Guide to the Cataloguing of Archaeological Textiles. London, Institute of Archaeology. Wild, J.P. (1970) Textile Manufacture in the Northern Roman Provinces. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Wild, J.P. (1988) Textiles in Archaeology. Aylesbury, Shire.

Part I Application of analytical techniques on tools

1 Preliminary remarks on some wear traces on Egyptian and Levantine textile tools Chiara Spinazzi-Lucchesi

Introduction Traceological analyses are regularly conducted on stone tools (Bradfield 2015, 3) but they are seldom applied to other materials, or to periods other than prehistory, especially in Near Eastern archaeology and Egyptology. However, some categories of objects have benefited from specific research and increasing numbers of studies deal with traceological analyses on a wider spectrum of materials (e.g. Sidéra and Legrand 2006; Soriano and Gutierrez 2009; Skibo 2013; Vieugué 2014; Bradfield 2015). Textile tools have also been the subject of traceological investigations, especially in recent years. Bone implements have been studied for example by Cheval and Radi (2013) and Kemp and Vogelsang-Eastwood (2001), while ceramic spindle whorls have been investigated by Forte and Lemorini (2017), Alberti (2018), and Żebrowska (2020) and bone spindle whorls by Galli et al. (2018). This paper discusses some interesting wear traces visible on a group of Egyptian and Levantine textile tools. The aim of the study was to determine on which materials they are present, and if common patterns are found on similar tools from different geographical areas and periods. An understanding of how these marks were formed, e.g. as a result of usage or manufacture, may help to shed light on an object’s purpose and how it was used. The selection of objects discussed here comprises tools from Egypt and the southern Levant, dating from the end of the fourth to the mid-first millennium BC (Table 1.1).1 In order to understand what could be considered a textile tool, a large number of different object types were investigated. Some of the objects were fragmentary, while others had characteristics that would have made them suitable for various purposes. The focus of this article is on bone/ivory and stone spindle whorls and bone spatulae. This restricted

choice is due mainly to two factors. First, in the absence of a trace reference collection, it was necessary to refer to the available literature, and these two object categories have been dealt with by several studies (see below). Second, other object types were not suitable for traceological analysis for various reasons. For example, many tools, especially loom weights, were made of unfired clay and their surfaces have not been sufficiently preserved for such a study. Others, like needles, have suffered from invasive cleaning and conservation treatment, and wear traces on them are no longer visible; they are therefore not considered in this paper. Lastly, although a large number of Egyptian spindle whorls were made of wood, a material that might be similar to bone and ivory, the complete absence of studies on wooden textile tools means that they require a separate investigation. In total, 337 spindle whorls and 252 spatulae were studied (Table 1.1), dating from the end of the fourth to the mid-first millennium BC. The spindle whorls are made of bone and ivory as well as stone (mostly limestone and steatite), while the spatulae are made of bone. The sites that yielded the most notable specimens for this study are Hazor and Megiddo in Israel, and Gurob in Egypt; the other sites directly investigated are Beth Shean and Tell el-Far’ah (N) in Israel, and Kahun and Deir el-Medina in Egypt. Almost all the tools that have been investigated were found in settlements, with a very small number coming from graves. Unfortunately, nothing is known about the specific discovery contexts of almost all the Egyptian tools, while for the Levantine objects much more information is available.

Methodology The objects were analysed using low power microscopy (Marreiros, Gibaja Bajo and Ferreira Bicho 2015, 10).

Chiara Spinazzi-Lucchesi

4

Table 1.1 Summary of the objects analysed for wear traces, divided per site and chronology. Some of the items presented both use and manufacture traces, other items were too fragmentary or damaged to draw safe conclusions. (IA=Iron Age). Manufacture Use

 

Total number of spindle whorls analysed (bone+stone)

Chronology

Spindle whorls with wear traces

Manufacture

Use

Total number of spatulae analysed

Chronology

Spatulae with wear traces

Megiddo

114

EB (2), MB (4), LB (64), IA (33), unknown (11)

78

44

53

8

IA (8)

8

2

8

Hazor

70

LB (17), IA (34, unknown (21)

58

26

45

85

LB (3), IA (53), Unknown (29)

75

31

74

Beth Shean

41

MB (5), LB (10), IA (22), unknown (4)

27

12

17

3

IA II (3)

3

0

3

Tell el-Farah (N)

30

EB (7), MB (5), LB (5), IA (7), unknown (6)

26

12

14

45

Chalc. (1), EB (16), MB (6), LB (1), IA (5), unknown (16)

42

18

42

Kahun

4

MK (4)

4

2

3

4

MK (4)

4

1

4

Gurob

6

NK (6)

6

0

6

95

NK (95)

92

25

92

Other Egyptian sites

72

Predyn. (49), Protodyn (14), OK (5), unknown (4)

36

15

28

12

OK (3), MK (2), NK (1), unknown (6)

9

5

6

Observations were made at 10× magnification, 60× magnification (an Aussel lens), and subsequently using a digital microscope with a magnification of 50 to 500× (Gvess). Macroscopic examination at 50× was performed in most cases, while only specific details on spatulae were observed at a magnification of 500× (in particular on spatulae, when in doubt if some traces were due to manufacture or use). Initial examinations focused on macro-traces, such as fractures, detachments, and notches. Afterwards, surface wear was noted: firstly, the localities affected and secondly, the wear types, such as striations or polishing. As already stated, it was not possible to create a specific reference collection for the tools under examination; therefore, the observations relied on comparisons with the published evidence. Hopefully in the future it will be possible to expand these preliminary observations and to provide more details on each specific feature.

Spindle whorls Spindle whorls may be made from various materials, even precious ones, and may have different shapes and dimensions, making it very difficult to distinguish them from other perforated objects like beads or garment decorations.

Generally speaking, excavation reports, especially old ones, tend to define objects that are made of poor-quality materials or crudely shaped as spindle whorls, while more refined objects tend to be assigned to more ‘noble’ categories, such as beads, without a proper analysis of the object itself. However, many examples clearly show that spindle whorls could be made of precious materials such as ivory, metal, or stone and could also be remarkably well finished (Völling 2008, 247–8; Sauvage 2014). Since this study deals with both Egypt and the southern Levant, it must be emphasised that there are substantial differences in the materials used (or preserved) between the two areas. The most common raw material used in ancient Egypt to make spindle whorls must have been wood, as it still is nowadays. Unfortunately, wooden objects are rarely preserved in archaeological contexts, and in Egypt itself the extant examples predominantly come from a few sites dating to the Middle and New Kingdom (c. 1900–1000 BC). In the southern Levant, wood was used as well (Yadin 1970, figs 6–7; Wheeler 1982, 586), but such finds are extremely rare. Very few stone spindle whorls are known from ancient Egypt, mostly dated to the end of the fourth millennium and beginning of the third millennium. Bone spindle whorls are even more rare, while ceramic whorls are absent, or

1.  Preliminary remarks on some wear traces on Egyptian and Levantine textile tools at least were not available for this study.2 Stone and bone, instead, are the materials most frequently employed for spindle whorls in the southern Levant, depending on the chronological and regional trends.

Traces of manufacture and wear In the southern Levant, a pattern of production shared by stone and bone/ivory spindle whorls can be identified. The whorls with a domed or conical shape, which date from the Late Bronze and Iron Ages, have flat bases with evident striations (Fig. 1.1). These are evident on both materials, and may all run parallel or, less frequently, perpendicular to each other (Fig. 1.1b). They are spread over the whole surface of the object, clearly indicating that they were made when the object was not mounted on a shaft (Fig. 1.1d). These striations were very likely the result of cutting and scraping the objects (Sauvage 2013, 190). The upper side3 generally shows circular marks indicating that the object was finished using a wheel, which obliterates all other signs of manufacture (Fig. 1.2). The resulting whorl can sometimes be of very high quality. Similar traces have been identified in other northern Levantine sites, such as Ebla and Ugarit (Peyronel 2004, 163; Sauvage 2013, 190–1). These whorls are rarely decorated. The most frequent decoration consists of a simple circle made by a wheel near the edge and generally placed on the dome. Sometimes radial incisions or small circles with a central dot (Fig. 1.3a) are also found. In rare cases, circles made by a wheel near the edge might also decorate the base of the object, with the criss-cross manufacture striations still visible (Fig. 1.3b). As mentioned above, stone whorls from Ancient Egypt are very rare, since most of the finds are wooden objects. Bone is represented by a single item from Naqada (Petrie

Fig. 1.1. Striations due to manufacture on bases of spindle whorls A 5441 (Hazor) and 10-K-02-Ar2 (Megiddo) (Images: Author).

5

and Quibell 1896, 54). Stone spindle whorls are dated mostly to the Predynastic and Protodynastic periods (end of the fourth–beginning of the third millennium BC), but a few have also been found in Middle Kingdom Kahun and New Kingdom Gurob. These are completely different from the Levantine examples, being quite large and heavy (18–71 g) and poorly finished. In some cases, in fact, striations due to rubbing with a hard material are evident on the base, but also on the other surfaces of the whorls. As mentioned above, it is possible that not all spindle whorls have been classified as such; more refined versions may have been assigned to other object categories and are therefore difficult to trace.4 For example, Predynastic spindle whorls can be confused with stone mace heads. Mace heads are generally larger and heavier than whorls and made of stone of a higher quality than mere limestone, although limestone mace heads are known as well. Their dimensions should help in distinguishing between these object categories, but unfortunately the ancient Egyptians produced a large assemblage of mace head models to be placed in tombs. These mace head models include stone objects very similar to the larger implements, as well as ceramic and clay objects that, sometimes were painted to resemble stone mace heads. This second category is much more difficult to distinguish from spindle whorls, especially when they are published without full descriptions (i.e. lacking reference to measurements and wear traces), drawings, or photographs.

Fig. 1.2. Wheel traces on spindle whorl 08-K-072-Ar5 (Megiddo) (Image: Author).

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Chiara Spinazzi-Lucchesi

Fig. 1.3. Dome (a) and base (b) of spindle whorl 08-K-089-Ar6 (Megiddo) (Image: Author).

For example, at el-Mahasna, some mace head models are ceramic and even appear in female tombs (Thomas 2004, 1048), as also in el-Amrah (Hill and Herbich 2011, 131). In cases like these, it is difficult to understand whether all these items were actually mace heads or whether some of them might have been whorls. However, models of mace heads exhibit some major differences from spindle whorls. Mace head models closely resemble actual mace heads, not only with respect to materials but especially in their shape. Mace heads that are pyriform or conical with convex sides are very frequent and therefore these shapes are frequently found in models. In contrast, the domed shape is not usually used for mace heads, so dome-shaped objects are very likely to be spindle whorls. Since a model is an object made for display and not for use, some objects are easily recognised as models because they have holes that were not made to allow the insertion of a shaft. Furthermore, wear traces can be crucial since they would be absent on models, but it is very likely that they will be present on actual spindle whorls. Three objects from the Petrie Museum in London (UC9029, UC15413, UC73209b) constitute particularly interesting case studies in this respect (Fig. 1.4). These are made of breccia, a stone used in Predynastic times for precious objects such as vases and mace heads. They are dome-shaped (one flattened), with diameters between 3.1 and 3.5 cm and weights from 15–23 g. The bases appear flat and smoothed, with parallel striations still visible, while no

signs of manufacture are visible on the domes, which are finished with care. A hole is neatly cut into the flat bases, while the top sides are marked by small detachments and abrasions (Fig. 1.4b–c) (similar to Żebrowska 2020; Galli et al. 2018, 271–2). Detachments can also be seen on the edges, possibly due to repeated falls (Fig. 1.4a) (Forte and Lemorini 2017, 174; Galli et al. 2018). This pattern of wear is identifiable on other Predynastic spindle whorls, but also on whorls from later periods found in Kahun and Gurob. It seems, therefore, that these three precious items were not models, since they show wear traces, and these traces are compatible with their use as spindle whorls. A similar pattern of wear is identifiable on stone and bone spindle whorls from the Levant. The perforation of the objects is generally conical, with a larger diameter on the bottom flat surface and a smaller one at the top. The tapering is small, the total difference between top and bottom being about 1 mm. Conical and dome-shaped whorls tend to have the larger hole in the flat base cut neatly, with no traces of detachment or rounding on the edge. The upper hole, though, seems to have suffered more damage that might range from small-scale detachment to consistent patterns of abrasive wear that can be noticed even with the naked eye, on a large part of the surface near the hole (see Forte and Lemorini 2017, 174; Fig. 1.5). This wear does not appear to result from the insertion of the spindle shaft into the hole and its removal, since the lower part does not present any of these traces. Padding could be responsible

1.  Preliminary remarks on some wear traces on Egyptian and Levantine textile tools

7

Fig. 1.4. a) Breccia spindle whorl UC 15413; b) detail of ‘upper’ hole; c) detail of ‘upper’ hole of UC 73209b (Images: Author).

for a part of the marks, but (as mentioned) the hole is wider on the base, where it is completely smooth. Moreover, the whorl would probably have been placed with its flat base on the more central part of the shaft since shafts tend to taper towards the extremities. In this way, the slightly conical shape of the hole would have served to wedge the shaft in securely. Therefore, the dome/point of the whorl would have pointed towards one end of the shaft and not towards the centre, and would not have been in contact with the thread when it was wound during spinning. During a brief series of spinning experiments conducted by the author in order to gain an understanding of the main differences between the most common spinning techniques, this part appeared to be less subject to friction from the thread, while other parts – especially the edges – appeared much more so. The only time that the dome/point of the whorl was exposed to a powerful stress was when it fell due to breakage of the thread when spinning with a low-whorl spindle.5 Detachment of material is clearly seen along the edges of the ancient whorls, much of it compatible with damage caused by repeated falls (Figs 1.1a, 1.3b; Forte and Lemorini 2017, 174; Żebrowska 2020, 132). However, a more extensive series of experimental tests, using objects closely resembling ancient ones, is needed to clarify with certainty the mode of use which produced this type of use wear.

Bone spatulae Many different objects have been grouped together under the category of bone spatulae and pin beaters. Before discussing the spatulae in the examined corpus, it seems necessary to

distinguish between the two different types which sometimes share the same terminology, so as to avoid confusion. A pin beater is a bone awl, generally cut from a sheep or goat metapodial bone. One end is usually sharpened into a point while the other is left unworked, often with the articulation still preserved. Bone spatulae are taken here to be thin, flat objects, generally made from ribs of cattle or sheep/goats (Figs 1.6–9). They are generally 10–15 cm in length, 1.5–2 cm wide, and 0.1–0.2 cm thick. One end is sharpened into a point, and the other left rough or worked into a rounded shape. This distinction is dictated by their probable different uses related to their shape and thickness. While spatulae are very thin and can be inserted between the warp threads and parallel to the weft, the beater must be manipulated following the warp threads and certainly cannot be easily inserted into the shed for its whole length. The force that can be applied during these two operations is completely different: the thin spatulae can be used for delicate purposes, while the thick beater can be safely passed over the warp threads to vigorously shake and separate them after beating the weft.6 The point can of course also be used for precise operations during weaving. Bone spatulae appear for the first time in the southern Levant during the Neolithic period, as attested by finds from Nahal Hemar Cave (Bar-Yosef and Alon 1988, fig. 4.1) and the slightly later Ard es-Samrra (Getsov and Bazilai 2009). The production of bone spatulae with triangular and pen-nib points was continuous during the Early and Middle Bronze Age (3000–1600 BC), although in small numbers. It is well represented in Tell Abu al-Kharaz, where several examples were found in Early Bronze Age layers (Cristiani 2008,

8

Chiara Spinazzi-Lucchesi

Fig. 1.5. ‘Upper’ and ‘lower’ hole of: a) A 62625 (Hazor); b) A 90894 (Hazor); c) 08-K-033-Ar7 (Megiddo); d) MM 2440 (Naqada) (Images: Author).

Fig. 1.6. Manufacture of Hazor spatulae with trabeculae only partially obliterated by wear: a) M 78802; b) A 1533 (Image: Author).

1.  Preliminary remarks on some wear traces on Egyptian and Levantine textile tools

9

Fig. 1.7. Manufacture of Gurob spatulae: a) MM 555.b (x); b) MM 555 (ii); c) MM 555 (xxix); d) MM 555 (i) (Images: Author).

Fig. 1.8. Bone spatulae from Gurob with trabeculae obliterated in the central area a) MM 555 (ix) and b) MM 555 (xxxi); c) spatula with lateral wear MM 555 (xiv) (Images: Author).

118, fig. 119). Some objects from this site were examined for micro-wear, which produced evidence that was found to be compatible with contact with wool threads (Cristiani 2008). The Levantine production of bone spatulae seems to have been largely suspended throughout the Late Bronze Age (1600–1200 BC) and Iron Age I (1200–1000 BC) but flourished again during the Iron Age II (1000–600 BC),

with hundreds of excavated examples found (Peyronel 2004, 362–3). In Egypt, some possible bone spatulae are known from excavations in the Neolithic site of Merimde-Benisalame, where they appear to have been longitudinally cut to obtain a long, thin point (Junker 1929, 237, fig. 12; 1930, 11). A small number of bone spatulae have also been found in Old Kingdom (2500–2100 BC) (Tavares 2004, 11) and Middle Kingdom contexts. For example, four bone spatulae are known from Kahun. One of the specimens (MM 695.a.i) was found inside a ball of thread, which is a very interesting link to its use in connection with textile production. During the New Kingdom, they appear to be much more common, with important evidence coming from Gurob (Thomas 1981), Amarna (Kemp and Vogelsang-Eastwood 2001, 368–70), and Kom Rabi’a (Giddy 1999, 162, pl. 35). In the areas under consideration, bone spatulae have been interpreted as tools for eating, writing, making nets, cutting, and piercing (Ariel 1990, 129). Several scholars, however, connect these tools with the textile industry (Doyen 1986, 49–51; Ariel 1990, 129–30; Cecchini 1992, 16). More specifically, Doyen proposes their use during weaving, for beating the weft thread or for disentangling yarns or fixing small errors and knots (Doyen 1986, 51). He connects them with the appearance of a new fibre – namely cotton – and a specific type of loom weights, but this hypothesis has been contested by Cecchini (1992, 16) on the basis of the archaeological evidence, which does not match the chronology of these specific loom weights. However, she agrees with their interpretation as textile tools, especially for beating the threads (Cecchini 2000, 229). The connection of this tool with the diffusion in the Levant of the warp-weighted loom is also supported by Peyronel (2004, 371–2) and Boertien (2013, 73) since the reappearance of bone spatulae matches the period of the

Chiara Spinazzi-Lucchesi

10

maximum spread of loom weight findings. Furthermore, they are frequently found in contexts together with loom weights (Boertien 2013, 73; Mazar 2019, 134), although single finds occur as well. However, similar items are known from contexts earlier than the Iron Age and show morphologies and wear traces compatible with usage in the textile industry (Cristiani 2008). Furthermore, the Egyptian documentation shows the presence of items similar to the Levantine examples, especially during the New Kingdom, a period in which the warp-weighted loom was not in use.

Traces of manufacture and wear Bone spatulae are generally made from ribs of cattle or sheep/goats, which were cut in half longitudinally. One end was sharpened into a point, while the other end might be slightly polished or worked into a rounded shape. The points were worked into different shapes, generally forming triangular or pen-nib points. The surface with the inner bone exposed may be left rough or highly polished to obliterate the cancellous bone and obtain a perfectly smoothed object. Most scholars (Kemp and Vogelsang-Eastwood 2001, 369; Peyronel 2016, 856) assume that the cancellous bone needed to be polished before usage in order to avoid damaging yarns during weaving. Although this might seem the most logical explanation, in some objects it may be seen that the cancellous bone was not polished before use. In fact, only a portion of the object appears smoothed. This area is located near the point and may be limited to a small portion on and near the point itself, or extend over more than a half of the surface (Fig. 1.6). Moving away from the point, the smoothness decreases until the unaltered rough trabeculae are reached. Since the smooth area can vary a lot between different objects and is irregular in shape, it would appear to

be the result of use wear rather than a detail of manufacture. Furthermore, no signs compatible with rubbing on a rough surface are present. One spatula, A 57619 from Hazor, was left unfinished. It has a triangular point and is not smoothed at all. It was cut to expose the cancellous bone and shows no traces of use wear, neither in the matrix nor in the edges, which are crudely cut. In other cases, objects from Hazor were made completely smooth by usage on both the external and internal surfaces, with the removal of all traces of cancellous bone. A similar wear pattern is visible also on the spatulae from Tell el-Far’ah (N). A comparable pattern can be identified in spatulae from the New Kingdom site of Gurob, kept in the Manchester Museum. In MM 555.b(x),7 cancellous bone is visible and tends to disappear towards the point (Fig. 1.7a). Other examples are MM 555(ii) and 555(ix) (Fig. 1.7b). In a similar item, MM 555(i), the cancellous bone was not smoothed at all, but the point is polished and presents striations on the edges (Fig. 1.7d). Other spatulae, on the other hand, are completely smooth on both surfaces and the cancellous bone has disappeared due to use. One item MM 555(xxix), although fragmentary, is very interesting since it was not cut in half and thus contains both sides of the cortex; in some points it is partially broken and the internal cancellous bone may be seen (Fig. 1.7c). In other spatulae, like MM 555(xi) and MM 555(xxxi), the cancellous bone is partially visible, even if highly polished, but disappears towards the point and in the central area. This indicates that not only was the pointed part of the spatula used, but also the central portion, which is different from the evidence at Hazor (Fig. 1.8a–b). Another exemplar, MM 555(xiv), has a point with edges that are still sharp and was clearly used transversally, as it has a very worn edge which includes a large area of the lower

Fig. 1.9. Deep striations on UC 7712 (i) (Gurob) (Image: Author).

1.  Preliminary remarks on some wear traces on Egyptian and Levantine textile tools side; while the other edge, although worn, still retains its original squared shape (Fig. 1.8c). Another difference from the Hazor assemblage consists of the deep striations that occur on several specimens from the Petrie Museum, e.g. UC7712i, UC16768 I, UC16768 viii and ix (Fig. 1.9). The central area of these tools is covered by striations oriented transversely to the main body axis and strictly parallel to each other, with a very marked presence on several different specimens. They appear to partially cover the surface where smoothness caused by use is also visible, but they do not match perfectly. They also appear in the Tell el-Amarna corpus, and seem to be specific to Egyptian tools. They do not seem to be related to the preparation and polishing of the tool (contra Kemp and Vogelsang-Eastwood 2001, 370–3), but rather to its use – suggesting a difference from that of the Levantine tools in the corpus examined. The spatulae examined clearly demonstrate that even if their morphology is very similar across different areas and chronological periods, their uses may vary and require the examination of manufacturing and wear traces. Even the tools from the same site and period may have been used for different purposes. Although their general purpose was to aid in weaving, they also appear to have been used for several specific functions, including beating single areas and removing dirt or loosening small knots, in which cases only the pointed part was used. Furthermore, the spatulae that display use wear evidence on the whole surface or just the central part may have been employed to beat a portion of the weft, possibly when weaving a complex textile pattern. Given the wide spectrum of usage, spatulae do not seem to have been linked to a specific loom or specific fibres. In Egypt, as is well known, the warp-weighted loom was not in use during the New Kingdom and flax was the main fibre utilised for textiles; while Iron Age II contexts from the Levant show that the warp-weighted loom was undoubtedly used. Animal fibres may have been worked with spatulae, as suggested by the already mentioned experiments from Tell Abu al-Kharaz. The presence of peculiar striations on some of the Egyptian specimens, absent in the Levantine corpus, could be linked to contact with flax fibres or to some completely different function (e.g. hide working). Experimental investigation is needed to compare the use wear present on these tools with the use of specific fibres or techniques and to deepen our understanding of their usage in a specific period or context. Finally, it must be remembered that bone is a soft, particularly easily damaged material (Graziano 2014). Most of the items under study, especially the Egyptian ones, were excavated more than a century ago and nothing is known about the conditions in which they were kept before arriving at their present locations. It is therefore important that post-depositional wear traces are also correctly identified and evaluated.

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Conclusions The comparison of wear traces on textile tools from two geographical areas has revealed certain similarities in the manufacturing processes of both spindle whorls and bone spatulae. This is not surprising, since some characteristics of the raw materials, such as bone structure, must have resulted in similar stages of manufacture and analogous results. It also highlighted the fact that some tools present the same wear marks and were probably used for the same purpose. However, the study has also shown some substantial differences in wear traces on the spatulae, which clearly imply different purposes even when the tools appear to be of the same type. It is therefore necessary that such objects should be classified according to their use rather than their shape, which rarely happens for the areas and periods under investigation. Moreover, the study of wear traces can be a more reliable method for distinguishing between a real tool and a model, without considering the object’s composition, dimensions, or degree of refinement. This preliminary investigation has helped in the identification of similar patterns of wear, which enables the grouping of tools that may be studied together. However, it needs to be followed by accurate analysis using different types of microscopes and by an extensive program of experiments on replicas, since the available literature is very limited for some of the materials under study. Furthermore, spindle whorls need to be tested using different spinning techniques and fibres, and spatulae by using several loom types, so as to create reference data for future studies. This is especially important for recently excavated objects, where documentation of all/any cleaning and conservation treatment has been kept. Even if experimental testing of so many different materials and tool types requires a considerable investment, especially in time, it offers a reliable instrument for understanding the specific modes of use of these ancient objects, and their connection with specific technologies and fibres.

Acknowledgements Permission to use the material from Hazor was granted by Shlomit Bechar, the Selz Foundation Hazor Excavations in Memory of Yigael Yadin, to whom go my warmest thanks. I am also grateful to Israel Finkelstein who gave permission to use the material from the renewed excavations of Megiddo. Access to the Egyptian items was kindly provided by the Petrie Museum (with thanks to Anna Garnett and Alice Williams), Manchester Museum (with thanks to Campbell Price and Susan Martin), the Ashmolean Museum (with thanks to Liam McNamara), and Liverpool World Museum (with thanks to Ashley Cooke).

Chiara Spinazzi-Lucchesi

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Notes 1 2

3

4 5 6 7

The corpus was analysed for the author’s PhD thesis, Textile Tools from Egypt and Southern Levant, defended in April 2019 at University of Ca’ Foscari Venezia. Spindle whorls from Egypt analysed for this paper are currently stored in European museums and do not constitute the entire collections from the sites, but rather a selection made by excavators in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. In this paper, the smallest face is considered to be the top: in conical specimens this is the smaller face, in domed ones, the top of the dome. Since the way the whorls were placed on spindles is not known for the Levant (top whorl or low whorl position), it was deemed more appropriate to employ a geometric convention. It would be interesting to investigate large faience beads and check whether some of these objects could have been used as spinning tools. Similar traces were discussed during the ‘Tool Workshop’ held at the Centre for Textile Research in Copenhagen on 17 December 2014. As seen in modern Peruvian weaving. Since the batch of the spatulae bear only the label 555 without distinguishing each item, I have added a Roman numeral to create a unique reference number for each object.

Bibliography Alberti, M. (2018) The construction, use, and discard of female identities: Interpreting spindle whorls at Vindolanda and Corbridge. Theoretical Roman Archaeology Journal 1 (2), 1–16. Ariel, D.T. (1990) Excavations at the City of David 1978–1985. 2. Imported Stamped Amphora Handles, Coins, Worked Bone and Ivory, and Glass. Jerusalem, Hebrew University. Bar-Yosef, O. and Alon D. (1988) Nahal Hemar Cave. Jerusalem, Israel Exploration Society. Boertien, J.H. (2013) Unravelling the Fabric: Textile Production in Iron Age Transjordan. Unpublished thesis, University of Groningen. Bradfield, J. (2015) Use-trace analysis of bone tools: A brief overview of four methodological approaches. South African Archaeological Bulletin 70 (201), 3–14. Cecchini, S.M. (1992) Gli avori e gli ossi. Appunti sull’attività tessile in Siria del Nord durante l’Età del Ferro. In S. Mazzoni (ed.), Tell Afis e l’età del Ferro, 23–7. Pisa, Giardini. Cecchini, S.M. (2000) The textile industry in northern Syria during the Iron Age according to the evidence of the Tell Afis excavations. In G. Bunnens (ed.), Essays on Syria in the Iron Age. Ancient Near Eastern Studies Supplements, 211–33. Leuven, Peeters. Cheval, C. and Radi G. (2013) Les lames de tissage, critères de détermination et perspectives de recherche. In P. Anderson, C. Cheval, and A. Durand (eds), Regards croisés sur les outils liés au travail des végétaux: actes des rencontres 23–25 octobre 2012: XXXIII rencontres Internationales d’Archéologie et d’Histoire d’Antibes / An Interdisciplinary Focus on Plant-working Tool, 323–40. Antibes, APDCA. Cristiani, E. (2008) Notes on bone tools for textile production. In P. Fischer (ed.), Tell Abu al-Kharaz in the Jordan Valley 1. The

Early Bronze Age, 401–3. Wien, Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Doyen, J.-M. (1986) L’outillage en os des sites de Tell Abou Danné et d’Oumm el-Marra (campagnes 1975–1983): quelques aspects de l’artisanat en Syrie du Nord du III au I millénaire. Akkadica 47, 30–74. Forte, V. and Lemorini C. (2017) Traceological analysis applied to textile implements: An assessment of the method through the case study of the 1st millennium BCE ceramic tools in Central Italy. Origini 40, 165–82. Galli, M., Coletti, F., Lemorini, C. and Mitschke, S. (2018) The Textile Culture at Pompeii Project. In M.S. Busana, M. Gleba, F. Meo, and A.R. Tricomi (eds), Textiles and Dyes in the Mediterranean Economy and Society. Proceedings of the VIth International Symposium on Textiles and Dyes in the Ancient Mediterranean World (Padova - Este – Altino, Italy 17–20 October 2016), 267–87. Zaragoza, Libros Pórtico. Getsov, N. and Bazilai O. (2009) Nahal Betzet II and Ard el Samra: Two late prehistoric sites and settlement patterns in the Akko Plain. Journal of The Israel Prehistoric Society 39, 81–158. Giddy, L. (1999) Kom Rabi`a: The New Kingdom and Post-New Kingdom Objects. London, Egypt Exploration Society. Graziano, S. (2014) Traces on Mesolithic bone spatulas: Signs of a hidden craft or post-Excavation damage? In J.M. Marreiros and N. Bicho (eds), International Conference on Use-Wear Analysis: Use-wear 2012, 539–50. Cambridge, Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Hill, J.A. and Herbich T. (2011) Life in the cemetery: Late Predynastic settlement at el-Amra. In R.F. Friedman and P.N. Fiske (eds), Egypt at Its Origins 3: Proceedings of the Third International Conference ‘Origin of the State: Predynastic and Early Dynastic Egypt’, London, 27th July–1st August 2008, 109–35. Leuven, Peeters. Junker, H. (1929) Vorläufiger Bericht über die Grabung der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien auf der neolithischen Siedelung von Merimde-Benisalame (Westdelta): vom 1. bis 30. März 1929. Wien, Anzeiger der Akademie der Wissenschaften. Junker, H. (1930) Vorläufiger Bericht über die zweite Grabung der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien auf der vorgeschichtlichen Siedlung Merimde-Benisalâme: vom 7. Februar bis 8. April 1930. Wien, Anzeiger der Akademie der Wissenschaften. Kemp, B.J. and Vogelsang-Eastwood, G. (2001) The Ancient Textile Industry at Amarna. London, Egypt Exploration Society. Marreiros, J.M., Gibaja Bajo, J.F. and Ferreira Bicho, N. (2015) Macro and micro evidences from the past: The state of the art of archeological use-wear studies. In J.M. Marreiros (ed.), Use-Wear and Residue Analysis in Archaeology, 5–26. Cham, Springer. Mazar, A. (2019) Weaving in Iron Age Tel Rehov and the Jordan Valley. Journal of Eastern Mediterranean Archaeology & Heritage Studies Journal of Eastern Mediterranean Archaeology & Heritage Studies 7 (1), 119–38. Petrie, W.M.F. and Quibell, J.E. (1896) Naqada and Ballas. London, Bernard Quaritch. Peyronel, L. (2004) Gli strumenti di tessitura dall’età del Bronzo all’epoca Persiana. Roma, Università degli studi di Roma La Sapienza. Peyronel, L. (2016) Worked bones at Tell Mardikh-Ebla. Objects and tools from the Early Bronze to the Iron Ages: Preliminary remarks on typology, function and archaeological context.

1.  Preliminary remarks on some wear traces on Egyptian and Levantine textile tools In I. Thuesen (ed.), Proceedings of the 2nd International Congress on the Archaeology of the Ancient Near East. 22–26 May, 2000, Copenhagen: The Environment, Images of Gods and Humans, The Tell, Excavations Reports and Summaries, Varia (Chronology, Technology, Artifacts), 839–59. Bologna, University of Bologna. Sauvage, C. (2013) Spinning from old threads: The whorls from Ugarit at the Musée d’Archéologie Nationale (SaintGermain-en-Laye) and at the Louvre. In M.-L. Nosch, H. Koefoed, and E. Andersson Strand (eds), Textile Production and Consumption in the Ancient Near East: Archaeology, Epigraphy, Iconography, 189–214. Ancient Textiles Series 12. Oxford, Oxbow Books. Sauvage, C. (2014) Spindles and distaffs: Late Bronze and Early Iron Age eastern Mediterranean use of solid and tapered ivory/bone shafts. In M. Harlow, C. Michel, and M.-L. Nosch (eds), Prehistoric, Ancient Near Eastern and Aegean Textiles and Dresses, 184–226. Ancient Textiles Series 18. Oxford, Oxbow Books. Sidéra, I. and Legrand, A. (2006) Tracéologie fonctionnelle des matières osseuses: une méthode. Bulletin de la Société préhistorique française 103 (2), 291–304. Skibo, J.M. (2013) Understanding Pottery Function. New York, Springer. Soriano, I. and Gutierrez, C. (2009) Use wear analysis on metal, the influence of raw material and metallurgical production processes. In Archaeometallurgy in Europe 2007, 12–27 June 2007 Aquileia (Italy), 115–24. Milano, Associazione Italiana di Metallurgia.

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Tavares, A. (2004) The hidden industry. Weaving at the Workers’ Settlement. AERAGRAM – Newsletter of Ancient Egypt Research Associates 7 (2), 10–11. Thomas, A. (1981) Gurob: A New Kingdom Town. Introduction and Catalogue of Objects in the Petrie Collection. Warminster, Aris & Phillips. Thomas, A.P. (2004) Some comments on the Predynastic cemetery at el Mahasna. In S. Hendrickx, R.F. Friedman, K. Ciałowicz, and M. Chłodnicki (eds), Egypt at Its Origins: Studies in Memory of Barbara Adams: Proceedings of the International Conference ‘Origin of the State, Predynastic and Early Dynastic Egypt’, Kraków, 28th August–1st September 2002, 1041–54. Leuven, Peeters. Vieugué, J. (2014) Use-wear analysis of prehistoric pottery: Methodological contributions from the study of the earliest ceramic vessels in Bulgaria (6100–5500 BC). Journal of Archaeological Science 41, 622–30. Völling, E. (2008) Textiltechnik im Alten Orient: Rohstoffe und Herstellung. Würzburg, Ergon Verlag. Wheeler, M. (1982) Loomweights and spindle whorls. In K. Kenyon, Excavations at Jericho IV: The Pottery Type Series and Other Finds, 623–37. London, British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem. Yadin, Y. (1970) Megiddo of the Kings of Israel. The Biblical Archaeologist 33 (3), 65–96. Żebrowska, K. (2020) The application of use-wear analysis to the study of function of prehistoric Sicilian textile tools. Quaternary International 569–70, 128–34.

2 Visible tools, invisible craft: An analysis of textile tools in Iron Age Cornwall Lewis Ferrero

Introduction Spinners, weavers, and other textile workers are among the most essential craft workers in society, producing items that are used in almost every facet of life: from furnishing and clothes to netting and cordage. Unfortunately, ancient textiles rarely survive in cold, wet climates outside of anaerobic conditions, particularly in Britain and other northern European countries. Although most inorganic textile tools are able to survive deposition, organic tools such as bone or antler needles and combs can be severely damaged or even destroyed by poor preservation conditions, effectively removing a large portion of evidence available for archaeologists (Poole 1984). Fortunately, today there are methods of analysing spindle whorls and loom weights, which are the most common surviving textile tools, which can compensate for the lack of organic remains. As part of the Textiles, Tools, Texts and Contexts Research Program (TTTC), Linda Mårtensson, Marie-Louise Nosch, Eva Andersson Strand, and Anna Batzer (2006a, 2006b, 2007, 2009) at the Centre of Textile Research in Copenhagen (CTR) conducted a series of experiments on spindle whorls and loom weights to understand what primary factors affected the spinning and weaving processes, as well as the finished yarn and textile. These methods are currently the most effective way to study textiles and textile production in prehistory. The organisation of textile workers can further be investigated by analysing the manufacture, use wear, and context of these textile tools. It is possible to gain a clearer insight into the organisation of textile work and its workers in society, whether these various forms of production existed at different settlements, and the economic importance of textile production through the combination of tool analysis and the investigation of settlement patterns and other craft activities performed at these sites.

This paper aims to determine the most common form of textiles made in Iron Age Cornwall, as well as how textile production was organised in various settlements, via a close analysis of the surviving spinning and weaving tools from this period.

Previous work The research surrounding the analysis of textile tools focuses particularly on spindle whorls and loom weights. These are the tools most likely to survive in the archaeological record, since many were made from hard-wearing stone or ceramics compared to organic tools such as bone needles, antler weaving combs, and wooden distaffs (DeRoche 1991; Andersson and Nosch 2015). The experiments performed at CTR (Mårtensson et al. 2006a, 2006b, 2009) documented how much information these spindle whorls and loom weights can reveal about the range of textiles that could be made. These experiments demonstrated that the weight and diameter of a spindle whorl are the parameters that have the most influence on the final spun thread (Mårtensson et al. 2009, 378). A thicker thread can be spun with a heavier whorl more easily than with a lighter whorl, which is better for producing a thinner thread; a whorl with a wide diameter can retain momentum for longer, which suits spinning long fibres like flax; while a whorl with a smaller diameter spins faster for a shorter period of time, which best suits short fibres such as wool (Mårtensson et al. 2009, 378–9). The way in which threads are spun also affects how much tension these need to be placed under during weaving (Mårtensson et al. 2007, 2009, 378, 392). Thinner threads snap more easily and so need less tension, while thicker threads need more tension to hold these in place during weaving (Mårtensson et al. 2007, 2009). Experiments in

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weaving tension and loom weight numbers revealed that the best set-up for any loom to weave evenly and efficiently is between 5 and 30 warp threads attached to each loom weight (Mårtensson et al. 2009, 392). It is now standard practice in European archaeology for any discussion of textile tools to analyse spindle whorls and loom weights using the methods developed in these experiments (e.g. Dimova 2016; Marín-Aguilera 2019; Cutler et al. 2020), although this is not the case for British textile tools. The studies of these artefacts in Britain have fallen behind for several reasons, particularly due to the low number of tools recovered archaeologically, in comparison to contemporary continental European sites (Agata Ulanowska, pers. comm.). So even a preliminary investigation of the British material will be able to provide important information on the range of textiles produced during the Iron Age and the way in which the workers were organised. The study of Cornish settlements in south-west Great Britain has rarely taken note of any textile tools excavated at these sites, a common problem with most settlement studies or excavation reports, particularly those made prior to the 1990s. Most of the interest in studying Cornish sites focuses on the unique forms and characteristics of these settlements, which developed from roughly 1000 BC onwards in response to the various environments and climates present in the south-west British peninsula (Simmons 1970; Silvester 1979; Cunliffe 1991, 41–9). The south-west is surrounded on three sides by sea, contains various mineral resources, fertile valleys, at least six high moorlands (Dartmoor, Exmoor, Bodmin, Hensbarrow, Carnmenelis, and Penwith), and is separated from the rest of the island by the Somerset fenlands (Cunliffe 2005, 275). Throughout the Bronze and Iron Age (c. 2200 BC–AD 43), this encouraged the region to rely heavily on marine resources and maritime exchange, as well as to adapt each settlement’s subsistence practices to the local environment. For example, the typical moorland settlements were ‘pounds’, groups of dry-stone walled huts within an enclosing wall (Henderson 2007, 109), like Grimspound on Dartmoor (Pattison and Fletcher 1996, fig. 4.6). These had a largely pastoral role, with only limited agricultural cultivation taking place within the pounds themselves and little to no evidence of any craft activity (Cunliffe 1991, 41). Indeed, evidence of craft production and trading appears scarce in almost all small Iron Age settlements across south-west Britain, both in and around the moors (Johnson and Rose 1982; Cunliffe 2005, 281–3). In comparison, the fortified promontory forts (also known as cliff castles) produced more evidence of continental European influence, particularly in the forms and decoration of locally made pottery (Cunliffe 2005), as well as craft activities like smelting and smithing (Brooks 1974; Nowakowski 2004). Originally, it was believed that these sites represented trading colonies founded by continental Europeans, but this has since been disproved (Brooks 1974; Cunliffe 1991, 2005; Nowakowski

2004). However, the exposed and isolated positions of these settlements, combined with evidence of sparse occupation, has led many to believe that these sites held more symbolic significance than cultural; i.e. these were sites used to demonstrate control over the landscape rather than as residences of large communities or social elites (Sharp 1992; Herring 1994; Cunliffe 2005, 289). The concentration of archaeological interest on these promontory forts throughout the last decades could explain why it took so long for the scholars to take a wider look at the evidence of craft production and organisation in other Cornish Iron Age sites. Since there was a disproportionate number of fortified sites excavated in Cornwall, this study needed to ensure it did not over-represent these sites. As such, only those with five or more Iron Age textile tools were selected. The sites included in this study are as follows (Fig. 2.1): • Carn Euny (Fig. 2.1.1): An open late Iron Age settlement, rebuilt as a courtyard settlement in the Roman period, on the Penwith peninsula near the hillfort of Carn Bran (NGR SW 40250 28839), occupied c. 400 BC–AD 300. Remains of nine huts dating to the Iron Age demonstrate that this site could support several families, although few finds other than domestic pottery and quern stones remain. Fourteen spindle whorls were found, but no loom weights. • Bodrifty (Fig. 2.1.2): An enclosed settlement in the centre of the Penwith peninsula (NGR SW 44436 35570), occupied c. 400–50 BC. The number and date of the round house remains suggest several families resided here at any one time. Little other archaeological evidence was found. Six spindle whorls were found, but no loom weights. • Trevelgue Head (Fig. 2.1.3): A fortified settlement located on a spur of land along the Cornish north coast (NGR SW 82572 63040), defended by several lines of ditch-and-bank earthwork defences. Multiple roundhouse hut platforms were located in the innermost enclosure, mostly dating to the second century BC. Approximately 200 kg of iron slag, several furnaces, and metalworking tools were discovered in one area of the site (close to the entrance). Other finds include local pottery, quern stones, large quantities of animal bones and burnt grain in midden deposits, and extensive field systems linked to the fort (Nowakowski and Quinnell 2011). The contexts of various textile tools were not recorded. Twenty-two spindle whorls and two loom weights were found. • Trevisker (Fig. 2.1.4): An enclosed settlement between two river systems along the north Cornish coast (NGR SW 88800 68700), occupied c. 200 BC–AD 100. Multiple roundhouses from both the Bronze and Iron Age were excavated, as well as a series of pits, ovens, and gullies. Some slag and metal artefacts indicated that smelting occurred near to, but not inside, the site.

2.  Visible tools, invisible craft: An analysis of textile tools in Iron Age Cornwall

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Fig. 2.1. The location of each site in this study. 1) Carn Euny; 2) Bodrifty; 3) Trevelgue Head; 4) Trevisker; 5) The Rumps (Image: Author).

Ten spindle whorls and thirteen loom weights were found, however, no details were recorded. No context was given for any textile tools discussed in the finds sections, and these were omitted from the discussion about the site’s economy and subsistence (ApSimon and Greenfield 1972, 368). • The Rumps (Fig. 2.1.5): A fortified settlement located on a north coast promontory (NGR SW 93411 81092) with three lines of defensive ditches and banks separating it from the mainland, occupied c. 500–50 BC. Six hut platforms cluster near the entrance, which suggests the rear of the promontory was used for arable or pastoral purposes. Evidence of metalworking is common, with tools and debris found clustered around various huts. Roughly 60% of all animal bones are sheep, which may indicate that the site had higher levels of textile production than smaller settlements (Brooks 1974). Fifteen spindle whorls and 12 loom weights were found.

Methodology The five sites described above (Fig. 2.1) were chosen based on the number of textile tools available for analysis.

As already mentioned, each site had to have five or more textile tools in total for a reasonably sized dataset; these tools had to belong to the Iron Age; and organic tools were omitted from this study, as these did not survive deposition in Cornwall’s acidic soil. Finally, each site had to have tools that could be measured and recorded in person, in order to collect precise morphometric data and evaluate the conditions of damaged tools before reconstructing the weights and measurements as close as possible to the original tools. As a range of settlement forms was required in order to compare the types of textiles produced at different sites, it was not a priority to collect data from sites evenly spread across the region. For each site, I recorded the location, number, and type of textile tools associated with each settlement phase, as well as their dimensions and weights. I used the information from each site’s excavation record to identify which phase each find belonged to. Unfortunately, early excavations frequently have problems with dating the tools due to incomplete excavation records, so only the tools with a confirmed connection to the relevant phase were used for this study. I recorded the height (mm), width or diameter (mm), thickness (mm), and weight (g) of each tool during the direct

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examination of the artefacts. Where the tool had suffered damage or was missing fragments, I estimated how much remained and only continued data collection on items where 50% or more of the tool survived. I then used the collected data to calculate the most probable dimensions and weight of the original, unbroken tool. Finally, the data collected for loom weights was run through the CTR’s calculations to estimate the quality of the textile (expressed in number of warp threads per cm). Tests carried out at the CTR for tabby weave suggest that the optimal number of warp threads per cm is between 5 and 30 with 10–20 g warp tension, 5–20 threads with 20–30 g warp tension, and 5–10 threads with more than 30 g warp tension (Mårtensson et al. 2007). These results were then used as guidelines when analysing the data from this study.

Results The results of the tool analysis were notable in that both the distribution of weaving tools and the overall dimensions and weights of the textiles tools were very restricted.

Figure 2.2 demonstrates the distribution of spinning and weaving tools at each of the sites in this study. As seen by the presence of spindle whorls at each of the five selected sites, spinning is a common activity compared to weaving, which appears to be restricted to the sites along the north coast (The Rumps, Trevisker, and Trevelgue Head). This could indicate that weaving was restricted to sites with easy access to established trading routes, which Carn Euny and Bodrifty provided no evidence of. This would further suggest that weaving was a more specialised activity, only performed in or around trading centres. The tool data further supports the suggestion of specialist production, due to the remarkably limited range of weights displayed by both spinning and weaving tools, as shown in Table 2.1. Data collected for Iron Age loom weights elsewhere in the UK place the average weight of these tools at 1‒2 kg (DeRoche 1991); in comparison, the average weight of the Cornish loom weights is 276.6 g. Such a substantial difference in weight strongly suggests a unique weaving tradition in Cornwall that may have produced a lighter

Fig. 2.2. Map showing the proportions of spinning and weaving tools from sites across Cornwall: 1) Carn Euny; 2) Bodrifty; 3) Trevelgue Head; 4) Trevisker; 5) The Rumps (Image: Author).

2.  Visible tools, invisible craft: An analysis of textile tools in Iron Age Cornwall form of cloth compared to those from other regions. If this is the case, Cornwall would fit the criteria for specialist textile production. This is further supported by running the data gathered from the textile tools at each site through the CTR’s calculations to determine the possible number of threads per cm that these tools could have been used with. The narrow range of spindle whorl weights present at these sites would allow the Iron Age spinners of Cornwall to produce exceptionally fine threads (0.2–0.5 mm in diameter), although they would struggle to produce anything thicker. The loom weights could then be used to produce fabrics with very thin threads, and as few as 3 and as many as 6 threads per cm (Table 2.2). These would produce thin textiles with fine, open weaves, although the loom weights could also be used to produce heavier, densely woven fabrics that could have been used in a variety of ways. Interestingly, these low weights are achieved through a variety of materials in spindle whorls (such as reused pottery sherds, baked clay, slate, and other stone), while the loom weights are largely limited to local slate with a few made from baked clay or local stone (Fig. 2.3). It should be noted that slate is a material that can be easily split to the desired thickness, allowing the textile workers to create tools of similar weight quickly and effectively. The few weights made from baked clay have the deep, triangular shape typically used in the Iron Age instead of copying the slim, circular form of the slate loom weights that would be possible using another material, such as clay. To those making the tools, forming and firing similarly thin loom weights from clay may have been too time-consuming and difficult compared to using the readily available slate.

19

Discussion As demonstrated in the CTR experiments, spindle whorls with narrow diameters and light weights (approximately 4–8 g) are best suited for working with short fibres like wool rather than longer bast fibres, such as flax, nettle, or hemp (Mårtensson et al. 2006b). The average weight range of Cornish spindle whorls (5–10 g) is far lower than the average from other counties, such as Dorset, Hampshire, and Kent (Ferrero, pers. obs.). For example, Glastonbury Lake Village in Somerset has a total of 107 spindle whorls from the Iron Age with an average weight of 39.6 g (Coles and Minnett 1995). Despite this, the range of common spindle whorl diameters in the Cornish tools (29–42 mm) follows the pattern of average diameters in spindle whorls from other sites in Britain. Danebury spindle whorls have a range of 33–56 mm diameter (Cunliffe 1984, Microfiche 11: A2‒B5 and 12: D1‒14), Maiden Castle has a range of 31–53 mm (Sharples 1991, Microfiche 6), and Glastonbury Lake Village has a range of 23–61 mm (Coles and Minnett 1995). This suggests that Cornish spinners were less concerned with how fast and for how long the spindle turned and more concerned with the tension placed on the fibres they were spinning. This could indicate a preference for thinner spun yarn overall, rather than a preference for one type of fibre over another (i.e. for animal wool instead of plant fibres). So far, the range of British material compared to the Cornish data has been limited to sites from the southern, coastal counties (Somerset, Dorset, Hampshire, etc.). In the future, it would be interesting to expand this range of reference further north and see how the Iron Age sites from the north of the UK compare to the southern evidence,

Table 2.1. The minimum, average, and maximum data from Cornish sites. Site Bodrifty

Carn Euny

The Rumps

Trevelgue Head

Trevisker

Tools 6 spindle whorls 0 loom weights 14 spindle whorls 0 loom weights 15 spindle whorls 12 loom weights 22 spindle whorls 2 loom weights 10 spindle whorls 13 loom weights

SW weight Minimum Average

SW diameter

LW weight

LW thickness

5

12

N/A

N/A

24

19.6

N/A

N/A

Maximum

42.2

26

N/A

N/A

Minimum

9

16.4

N/A

N/A

19.1

33.8

N/A

N/A

Maximum

Average

61

46

N/A

N/A

Minimum

6

29

11

3

Average

20.8

37.7

151.2

7.9

Maximum

44.4

63.6

543.6

16.7

Minimum

9

14

57

7

Average

19.2

32.1

N/A

N/A

Maximum

46.8

45.7

657

36.2

Minimum

6

22.7

6

1.8

Average

19.7

32.86

380.4

20.8

Maximum

46.3

42

1372.8

92

No. of warp threads per loom weight Wool tabby, 1 row

Wool tabby, 2 rows

45

50

55

60

65

70

Thick

Thick

Thick

Thick

Thick

Thick

20

21

23

25

27

31

34

39

46

55

69

92

137

275

2

2

3

3

3

3

4

4

5

6

8

10

15

30

4

5

5

5

6

7

7

8

10

12

15

20

30

60

60

65

70

Thick

55

Thick

Thick

50

Thick

Thick

40

45

Thick

35

Thick

Thick

25

30

Average

Average

15

20

Thin

Very thin

Thin

5

10

Very thin

0

0

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

2

4

7

7

0

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

2

4

7

14

0

2

2

2

2

2

2

2

2

2

4

8

14

14

0

2

2

2

2

2

2

2

2

2

4

8

14

4

5

5

5

6

7

7

8

10

12

15

20

30

60

Trevisker, Lightest loomweight – 36 g, 1 cm thickness

35

40

Thick

Thick

25

30

Thin

Average

20

Thin

Average

10

15

Very thin

5

Very thin

24

0

3

3

3

3

3

3

3

3

3

6

12

24

7

7

8

8

9

10

11

13

15

18

23

30

45

90

14

0

2

2

2

2

2

2

2

2

2

4

8

14

4

5

5

5

6

7

7

8

10

12

15

20

30

60

28

0

4

4

4

4

4

4

4

4

4

8

16

28

2

2

3

3

3

3

4

4

5

6

8

10

15

30

Wool twill Wool twill Wool twill Wool twill (2/1), 2 (2/1), 3 (2/2), 2 (2/2), 4 rows rows rows rows

Warp threads per cm

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Wool tabby, 1 row

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Wool tabby, 2 rows

Table 2.2. CTR method calculations for the loom weights from Cornish sites.

Trevisker, Heaviest loomweight – 1372.8 g, 9.2 cm thickness

Thickness Warp of warp thread threads tension (g)

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

(Continued)

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Wool twill Wool twill Wool twill Wool twill (2/1), 2 (2/1), 3 (2/2), 2 (2/2), 4 rows rows rows rows

Technical evaluation

20 Lewis Ferrero

No. of warp threads per loom weight Wool tabby, 1 row

Wool tabby, 2 rows

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

Thin

Thin

Average

Average

Thick

Thick

Thick

Thick

Thick

Thick

Thick

Thick

9

10

11

12

13

15

16

19

22

26

33

44

65

131

3

3

3

3

4

4

4

5

6

7

9

12

18

36

6

6

6

7

7

8

9

11

12

14

18

24

36

73

6

6

6

7

7

8

9

11

12

14

18

24

36

73

60

65

70

Thick

55

Thick

Thick

50

Thick

Thick

40

45

Thick

35

Thick

Thick

25

30

Average

Average

15

20

Thin

Thin

5

10

Very thin

Very thin

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

2

2

2

3

4

6

11

2

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

3

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

1

2

3

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

1

2

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

1

1

1

2

3

5

8

8

9

10

11

13

13

16

18

22

28

37

54

109

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

1

2

3

6

6

6

7

7

8

9

11

12

14

18

24

36

73

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

1

1

2

2

3

6

10

11

12

13

14

17

18

21

24

29

37

49

72

146

Wool twill Wool twill Wool twill Wool twill (2/1), 2 (2/1), 3 (2/2), 2 (2/2), 4 rows rows rows rows

Trevelgue Head, Lightest loom weight – 56.8 g, 7 cm thickness

10

15

Very thin

5

Very thin

Table 2.2. (Continued) Warp threads per cm

Trevelgue Head, Heaviest loom weight – 654 g, 3.6 cm thickness

Thickness Warp of warp thread threads tension (g)

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Wool tabby, 1 row

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Unlikely

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Wool tabby, 2 rows

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Unlikely

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Possible

Unlikely

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Unlikely

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

(Continued)

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Wool twill Wool twill Wool twill Wool twill (2/1), 2 (2/1), 3 (2/2), 2 (2/2), 4 rows rows rows rows

Technical evaluation

2.  Visible tools, invisible craft: An analysis of textile tools in Iron Age Cornwall 21

No. of warp threads per loom weight Wool tabby, 1 row

Wool tabby, 2 rows

70

Thick

8

8

9

10

11

12

14

16

18

22

27

36

54

109

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

2

2

3

3

5

10

1

2

2

2

2

2

3

3

3

4

5

7

10

21

1

2

2

2

2

2

3

3

3

4

5

7

10

21

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

Thick

Thick

Thick

Thick

Thick

35

Thick

30

Average

Thick

Thick

20

25

Thin

Average

15

Very thin

Thin

5

10

Very thin

1

1

1

1

1

1.1

1.3

1.5

1.7

2.1

2.6

3.5

5.3

10.6

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

1

1

2

3

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

2

3

6

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

2

3

6

The Rumps, Lightest loom weight – 53.4 g, 3.5 cm thickness

60

65

Thick

Thick

50

55

Thick

45

Thick

Thick

35

40

Thick

Thick

25

20

Thin

30

15

Thin

Average

10

Very thin

Average

5

Very thin

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

2

2

2

4

5

9

2

3

3

3

3

3

4

4

5

6

8

10

16

31

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

2

3

6

1

2

2

2

2

2

3

3

3

4

5

7

10

21

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

2

2

2

3

4

6

12

3

3

3

4

4

5

5

6

7

8

10

14

21

42

Wool twill Wool twill Wool twill Wool twill (2/1), 2 (2/1), 3 (2/2), 2 (2/2), 4 rows rows rows rows

Warp threads per cm

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Wool tabby, 1 row

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Wool tabby, 2 rows

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Possible

Possible

Possible

Unlikely

Possible

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Unlikely

Wool twill Wool twill Wool twill Wool twill (2/1), 2 (2/1), 3 (2/2), 2 (2/2), 4 rows rows rows rows

Technical evaluation

Table 2.2. CTR method calculations for the loom weights from Cornish sites. (Continued)

The Rumps, Heaviest loom weight – 543.6 g, 1 cm thickness

Thickness Warp of warp thread threads tension (g)

22 Lewis Ferrero

2.  Visible tools, invisible craft: An analysis of textile tools in Iron Age Cornwall

23

Fig. 2.3. The range of materials used for spindle whorls (left) and loom weights (right) in the studied sites (Image: Author).

particularly as the northern counties are often overlooked in the study of Iron Age textile production. The complete lack of loom weights at two of the Cornish sites could be an indicator of regional organisation of textile producers. These two sites, Bodrifty and Carn Euny, are located on the Penwith peninsula, an area of rocky ground that is difficult to cultivate with substantial evidence of Bronze and Iron Age pastoral farming practises still visible in the landscape as dry-wall field systems (Cunliffe 1991, 2005). The most common stone in this area is granite, which could explain the lack of any stone spindle whorls in Bodrifty, as well as the scarcity of slate whorls in Carn Euny compared to the other Cornish sites. The prevalence of grazing compared to arable farming would most likely make wool the most common raw material, rather than cultivated flax or nettles; wool would require the sort of light, fast-spinning tools that are common in Bodrifty and Carn Euny. The other sites examined in this paper are located closer to fertile areas of arable land, which would allow the textile workers an easier access to both animal and plant fibres, which would explain the wider range of spindle whorl weights and shapes at these settlements. As these are also the places of weaving, I would argue that the textile workers of Bodrifty and Carn Euny restricted themselves to spinning wool and either trading or exchanging the spun threads for woven textiles produced at sites from arable areas. Likewise, I suggest that the textile workers at sites such as Trevisker, the Rumps, and Trevelgue Head focused on spinning for their own needs, while weaving was carried out for both household consumption and for trading. Cunliffe and Poole (1991, 185) suggested a similar scenario at Danebury, where they noted that the smaller satellite settlements around the hillfort consistently had a higher number of spindle whorls compared to loom weights, whereas

Danebury had the opposite. The proportions of these tools at each site appeared to suggest that spinning was mostly done at the smaller settlements while weaving was primarily performed at Danebury, further implying that spun threads were sent or traded to the weavers at the hillfort. Such a separation of different stages of textile work would not necessarily mean that no weaving at all occurred at Bodrifty or Carn Euny – it is possible that these sites produced non-woven fabrics (nets, sprang, etc.) or used weaving combs and small looms that did not need loom weights, although finding any evidence of these items would be difficult, if not impossible.

Conclusions The textile tools of Iron Age Cornwall are as unique in character as the settlements in this region, especially when compared to contemporary evidence from elsewhere in Britain (Cunliffe 1991; DeRoche 1991). Closer analysis of textile tools at five selected sites has been able to demonstrate the forms of textiles that were created in this region, and combining this analysis with wider settlement patterns and environmental evidence has shed more light on the organisation of this craft and the various factors that influenced its workers than previously thought possible. Given the poor preservation of faunal remains in the acidic soil conditions of Cornwall, little can be said about the extent of sheep husbandry in the area. Furthermore, it would be best if this dataset could be expanded, either by adding more sites from Cornwall for a more detailed picture of textile work in Iron Age Cornwall, or by comparing it to data from other regions to create a more comprehensive picture of textile production practises across different regions and environments of Great Britain.

24

Lewis Ferrero

Nonetheless, these findings hint at an exciting and previously unknown craft network present in the Cornish Iron Age – one which specialised in light and fine fabrics and may have relied on a regional organisation of textile workers according to the environments in which they lived and worked. This represents an important avenue of study, which would certainly benefit either from a closer investigation of all Iron Age sites in Cornwall, or from the wider multi-regional analysis.

Bibliography Andersson Strand, E. and Nosch, M.-L. (2015) Tools, Textiles, and Contexts: Investigating Textile Production in the Aegean and Eastern Mediterranean Bronze Age. Ancient Textiles Series 21. Oxford, Oxbow Books. ApSimon, A.M. and Greenfield, E. (1972) The excavation of Bronze Age and Iron Age settlements at Trevisker, St. Eval, Cornwall. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 38, 302–81. Brooks, R.T. (1974) The excavations of the Rumps Cliff Castle, St Minver, Cornwall. Cornish Archaeology 13, 5–50. Champion, T., Gamble, C., Shennan, S. and Whittle, A. (1984) Prehistoric Europe. London, Academic Press Limited. Coles, J. and Minnett, S. (1995) Industrious and Fairly Civilized; The Glastonbury Lake Village. Taunton, Somerset County Council. Cunliffe, B. (1984) Danebury: Volume 2: The Excavations, 1969– 1978: The Finds. London, Council for British Archaeology. Cunliffe, B. (1991) Iron Age Communities in Britain. 3rd ed. London, Routledge. Cunliffe, B. (2005) Iron Age Communities in Britain. 4th ed. London, Routledge. Cunliffe, B. and Poole, C. (1991) Danebury: An Iron Age Hillfort in Hampshire – Volume 5: The Excavations 1979–1988: The Finds. Council for British Archaeology Research Report 73b. DOI:10.5284/1000332 Cutler, J., Dimova, B. and Gleba, M. (2020) Tools for textiles: Textile production at the Etruscan settlement of Poggio Civitate, Murlo, in the seventh and sixth centuries BC. Papers of the British School at Rome 2020, 1–30. DOI:10.1017/ S006824622000001X DeRoche, C. D. (1991) Textile Production in Britain during the First Millennium BC. PhD dissertation, University of Cambridge. DOI:10.17863/CAM.37739 Dimova, B. (2016) Textile production in Iron Age Thrace. European Journal of Archaeology 19 (4), 652–80. DOI:10.1080/1 4619571.2016.1164457 Gleba, M., Harris, S. and Cutler, J. (2013) Production and consumption: Textile economy and urbanisation in Mediterranean Europe 1000–500 BCE (PROCON). Archaeology International 16, 54–8. DOI:10.5334/ai.1602 Grömer, K. (2005) The textiles from the prehistoric salt-mines at Hallstatt. In P. Bichler, K. Grömer, R. Hofmann-de Keijzer, A. Kern, and H. Reschreiter (eds), Hallstatt Textiles – Technical Analysis, Scientific Investigation and Experiments on Iron Age Textiles, 17–40. BAR International Series 1351. Oxford, Archaeopress. Henderson, J. (2007) The Atlantic Iron Age: Settlement and Identity in the First Millennium BC. London, Routledge.

Herring, P. (1994) The cliff castles and hillforts of West Penwith in the light of recent work at Maen Castle and Treryn Dinas. Cornish Archaeology 33, 40–56. Johnson, N. and Rose, P. (1982) Defended settlements in Cornwall – an illustrated discussion. In D. Miles (ed.), The Romano-British Countryside, 151–207. BAR 103. Oxford, Archaeopress. Marín Aguilera, B. (2019) Weaving rural economies: Textile production and societal complexity in Iron Age south-western Iberia. World Archaeology 51 (2), 226–51. Mårtensson, L., Andersson, E., Nosch, M.-L. and Batzer, A. (2006a) Experimental Archaeology, Part 1, Tools and Textiles – Texts and Contexts Research Programme, Centre for Textile Research. The Danish National Research Foundation’s Centre for Textile Research, University of Copenhagen. https:// ctr.hum.ku.dk/research-programmes-and-projects/previousprogrammes-and-projects/tools/technical_report_1_experimental_archaeology.pdf [accessed 20.01.2022]. Mårtensson, L., Andersson, E., Nosch, M.-L. and Batzer, A. (2006b) Technical Report, Experimental Archaeology, Part 2.2, Whorl or Bead? 2006. Tools and Textiles – Texts and Contexts Research Programme. The Danish National Research Foundation’s Centre for Textile Research, University of Copenhagen. https://ctr.hum.ku.dk/research-programmes-and-projects/ previous-programmes-and-projects/tools/technical_report_22__experimental_arcaheology.pdf [accessed 20.01.2022]. Mårtensson, L., Andersson, E., Nosch, M.-L. and Batzer, A. (2007) Technical Report. Experimental Archaeology. Part 3, Loom Weights. 2007. Tools and Textiles – Texts and Contexts Research Programme. Copenhagen, The Danish National Research Foundation’s Centre for Textile Research, University of Copenhagen. https://ctr.hum.ku.dk/research-programmesand-projects/previous-programmes-and-projects/tools/technical_report_3__experimental_archaeology.pdf [accessed 20.01.2022]. Mårtensson, L., Nosch, M-L. and Andersson Strand, E. (2009) The shape of things: Understanding a loom weight. Oxford Journal of Archaeology 28 (4), 373–89. Nowakowski, J.A. (2004) Revisiting Trevelgue Head – sixty years on. Cornish Archaeology 39–40, 190–1. Nowakowski, J.A. and Quinnell, H. (2011) Trevelgue Head, Cornwall: The Importance of C. K. Croft Andrew’s 1939 Excavations for Prehistoric and Roman Cornwall. Truro, Historic Environment Service. Pattison, P. and Fletcher, M. (1996) Grimspound, one hundred years on. Proceedings of the Devon Archaeological Society 52, 21–34. Poole, C. (1984) The structural use of daub, clay, and timber. In B. Cunliffe (ed.), Danebury: An Iron Age Hillfort in Hampshire. Vol. 1: The Excavations 1969–1978: The Site, 110–23. Council of British Archaeology Research Report 52. London, Council for British Archaeology. Sharp, A. (1992) Treryn Dinas: Cliff castles reconsidered. Cornish Archaeology 31, 65–8. Sharples, N.M. (1991) Maiden Castle: Excavations and Field Survey 1985–6. English Heritage, Archaeological Report no. 19. London, Batsford Ltd. Silvester, R. (1979) The relationship of first millennium settlement to the upland areas of the south-west. Proceedings of the Devon Archaeological Society 37, 176–90. Simmons, I.G. (1970) Environment and early man on Dartmoor. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 35, 203–19.

3 Tools and their products: Spindle whorls decorated by yarn impressions from Iron Age Donja Dolina in northern Bosnia and Herzegovina Julia Katarina Fileš Kramberger

Introduction Geographical and chronological context of Donja Dolina The site of Donja Dolina is located on the right bank of the Sava River, close to the modern-day town of Gorica in northern Bosnia and Herzegovina (Fig. 3.1). It is one of the most notable prehistoric sites in the Sava Valley region due to the results of archaeological excavations conducted by several researchers for over a century. Donja Dolina is considered to have been a prominent settlement and river crossing during the Bronze and the Iron Age (Ložnjak Dizdar and Gavranović 2014, 14), and was possibly a distribution and communication centre within the surrounding area (Potrebica 2003, 222). The Sava River was probably an important communication route between the region of the south-eastern Alps and the Danube Basin during the Bronze and Iron Age, connecting several large and diverse geographical regions such as the Alpine area, the Pannonian plain, the Danube Basin, and the Balkans (Potrebica 2003). This is reflected in the vast collections of material culture of varying provenance, typical of Croatian and Bosnian sites located along the middle course of the Sava River, among them Donja Dolina (Ložnjak Dizdar and Gavranović 2014, 13). The beginning of the settlement at Donja Dolina can be dated to the period of the Urnfield culture, or more accurately to Bz D and Ha A1 periods, corresponding to the thirteenth and twelfth centuries BC (Ložnjak Dizdar and Gavranović 2014, 21). This settlement was situated on the southern bank of the Sava River, between the modern-day village of Gornja Dolina to the west and the hillfort Gradina at Donja Dolina to the east. It spans an area of about 1.5 km in length, although its entire surface was probably never completely settled at the same time but was instead

moved along the bank in accordance with flood seasons (Marić 1964, 7). The existence and location of this settlement is confirmed by copious amounts of material finds but, unfortunately, without clear context (Gavranović 2011, 23) due to the construction of the river embankment and the nature of rescue excavations at the time of research. Due to extensive flooding, this settlement was probably abandoned sometime at the end of the Late Bronze Age or the beginning of the eighth century BC (Ložnjak Dizdar and Gavranović 2014, 21). In the Early Iron Age, it was replaced by a pile-dwelling settlement located on the elevated area of the Gradina hillfort to the east of the preceding ‘older’ settlement (Marić 1964, 10–11). At the same time, a flat-grave necropolis was established on the most elevated areas of the levee where the earlier settlement had been (Ložnjak Dizdar and Gavranović 2014, 21). Several phases of Iron Age burials can be distinguished in the necropolis and are dated from the late eighth and beginning of the seventh century BC to the fourth century BC (Gavranović 2011, 23–4). Thanks to the chronologically sensitive objects found within these graves, the settlement at the Gradina hillfort could be dated by comparison since the original archaeological and stratigraphical context of the structures and material finds excavated at the settlement was lacking (Gavranović 2011, 21; Ložnjak Dizdar and Gavranović 2014, 21). After the pile-dwelling phase, the settlement’s final phase consisted of rectangular wooden houses located in the same area and dated to the period between the fifth and third centuries BC (Žeravica 1976, 49; Ložnjak Dizdar and Gavranović 2014, 21). The site of Donja Dolina was first discovered due to accidental surface finds in 1896, which led to the start of the first systematic archaeological excavations by the National Museum of Bosnia and Herzegovina in 1899 that lasted until

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1904 (Marić 1964, 6). Later, there were several small-scale investigations from 1908 to 1911 and from 1927 to 1928 that yielded numerous finds, as well as material recovered during the construction of the Sava River embankment that caused damage to sections of the two settlement areas (the Gradina hillfort and the settlement on the riverbank) at Donja Dolina (Marić 1964, 6). Later, revision of the old finds and rescue excavations of the hillfort and the embankment where parts of the necropolis and the Bronze Age settlement were situated were carried out between the 1960s and 1980s (Čović 1987, 233; Jašarević 2017, 8). The quantity of archaeological artefacts clearly demonstrates that Donja Dolina was probably one of the most important Iron Age centres at the crossroads between the Alps, Pannonia, and the Balkans. Even at the beginning of archaeological research in the early twentieth century, alongside ceramic, bone, and metal objects such as vessels, tools, weapons, and personal objects, textile production tools from Donja Dolina were always presented as a separate and surprisingly numerous category (Truhelka 1901, 1902, 1903, 1904, 1914). They were found throughout the settlement at the Gradina hillfort, mostly without specific archaeological context, although some were located within the confines of pile-dwelling structures, and several spindle whorls were found in graves (probably female) at the cemetery on the nearby levee (Truhelka 1901, 1902, 1903).

Methodology The finds from the earliest excavations at Donja Dolina carried out at the beginning of the twentieth century are kept at the National Museum of Bosnia and Herzegovina in Sarajevo, and among these, there are over 3,000 spindle whorls, loom weights, and spools. A total of 53 ceramic spindle whorls decorated with yarn or cord impressions were singled out for analysis in this paper. Most of these (about 80%) were found in the area of the pile-dwelling settlement at the Gradina hillfort but lack detailed contextual documentation and are probably dated to the Early Iron Age. The location of the remaining 20% had not been recorded during excavation or storage. All spindle whorls were given unique identification numbers in the database that was constructed and adapted from the CTR database (Andersson Strand and Nosch 2015), and they were categorised based on their general forms. Their overall dimensions and weight were recorded, as well as any surface markings or finishing techniques. In cases where the whorls were incomplete, their total weight was calculated compared to its estimated reconstructed volume. The decorations present on the spindle whorls were described in detail and documented by digital photography and digital microscopy using Dino-Lite AM7815-MZT Edge at 20× magnification. When visible, yarn features such as diameter, twist direction, and angle were recorded.

Fig. 3.1. The site map showing the location of the Donja Dolina in relation to nearby rivers (Image: Author).

3.  Tools and their products In several cases where it was impossible to use the digital microscope directly on the spindle whorl surface, a negative cast was made using air-drying modelling clay, which was subsequently analysed. In this manner, positive casts of spun threads were obtained, which is essential when considering the twist direction.

Spindle whorls from Donja Dolina Archaeological textiles can be researched through numerous approaches and techniques, relying on a plethora of sources, including organic and mineralised textile fragments or their impressions, textile tools and production sites, and pictorial and written evidence. The more of these sources are available for a particular area or period, the better our understanding of the textile production process. Seen in this light, the analysis of a collection of spindle whorls decorated with yarn impressions is an intriguing topic, since the same material can be viewed as a piece of spinning equipment, as well as a source for analysis of thread that might have been produced using the same, or similar, spindle whorls. A morphological analysis of spindle whorls, combined with a spatial analysis within a site, might give insight into local spinning techniques and the quality of yarn that was spun, as well as the organisation of textile production, the people involved in it, and even possible symbolic meaning attributed to these objects (Rahmstorf 2015). Spindle whorls are round objects with central perforations (Gleba 2008, 103), which, when attached to a spindle shaft, help keep the spindle in motion while spinning (Barber 1991, 63). The weight of the spindle whorl, in combination with its diameter and height, greatly influences the thickness of the yarn and how tightly it is spun (Grömer 2005a, 110–12). Various spinning reconstruction experiments have shown that the skill of the spinner (Kania 2013, 129), as well as the fibre quality (Andersson Strand 2010, 2) and spinning technique (Grömer 2005a, 110), also had a significant impact on the outcome. Nevertheless, when used in the drop-spindle technique, the weight of the spindle whorl is considered to be the primary factor that affects the diameter of the thread and corresponds to the quality and nature of the fibre. Smaller and lighter whorls are generally used for producing finer yarn from shorter wool fibres, while heavier ones are better suited for thicker wool yarn, flax, and for plying (Barber 1991, 52; Grömer 2005a, 110–11; Andersson 2006, 7; Gleba 2008, 106). Central European Early Iron Age spindle whorls are usually relatively small and light, finely decorated and usually of discoid, conical, and biconical shape, often with a hollow or concave top surface (Belanová Štolcová and Grömer 2010, 11–12, 2012, 54). They often weigh about 10–15 g and rarely above 40 g (Grömer 2005a, 111).

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Spindle whorl measurements The spindle whorls from Donja Dolina that are the subject of this paper fit relatively well into these parameters, as most of them are lighter than 40 g (81%) (Fig. 3.2). Nevertheless, it should be noted that quite a significant portion of these spindle whorls can be defined as medium-sized whorls because from the total of 53 spindle whorls, about half (58%) weigh between 25 and 49 g. A relatively high number of the total (36%) should be considered as light and very light whorls (7–24 g), and only three spindle whorls could be considered as medium to heavy (above 50 g) (cf. Mazăre 2014, 12, T. 1.4; Grömer 2005a, 110–11, 2012, 51). The weight of the whorl relatively reflects its overall dimensions, so, in general, it can be said that the spindle whorls’ weight increases with their size. The analysed whorl width or largest diameter ranges from 2.3–5.7 cm. The average diameter is 4.1 cm. Only five spindle whorls have a diameter smaller than 3 cm, and five are wider than 5 cm. The height of these spindle whorls correlates with their width, where on average the width of the whorl is 1.7 times greater than its height, so generally the width of these whorls exceeds their height. The height ranges from 1.1–3.4 cm, and the average is 2.2 cm. When attaching the whorl to a spindle shaft, its hole should be wide enough to fit onto it without falling off, and its expected diameter should fall within a range between 0.3 and 1 cm (Barber 1991, 52). It was possible to measure the outer perforation diameter for 52 of the 53 spindle whorls within the collection presented here. On average, the hole diameter was 1.6 cm, but it ranged from 0.6–2.3 cm. Nevertheless, only three spindle whorls had hole diameters smaller than 1 cm, and eight whorls had perforations 2 cm or above in diameter. Where the diameter differed between the upper and lower rim of the whorl, the difference was up to 0.2 cm, and 0.4 in only one case. The inner diameter of the perforation was on average 1.4 cm and was usually up to 0.2 cm smaller than the outer rim diameter, and only in a few cases up to 0.4 cm, making the hole slightly tapered. Unfortunately, since the whorls in question were symmetrically shaped, and the decoration was usually present on the entire surface, it was difficult to differentiate between the upper and the lower end of the whorl. In the future, the difference in the hole diameter on its upper and lower rim, combined with use wear traces around them, might help identify the intended orientation of a spindle whorl. Nevertheless, it is also possible that the orientation in symmetrically shaped whorls was not essential and could have been changed during use. These results coincide with the overall whorl dimensions, where the smaller whorls generally have small perforations, and could indicate the spinning of short and fine to medium-fine wool (Barber 1991, 52; Gleba 2008, 108–9). Most of the medium-sized whorls had perforations wider

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Fig. 3.2. Graph showing the number of spindle whorls per weight category or class with photographs of three whorls as examples (Image: Author).

than 1 cm and up to 2 cm, which might suggest the use of a sturdier spindle, which could have been used for spinning longer fibres such as coarse wool, flax, or for plying thread (Grömer 2005a; Olofsson et al. 2015).

Shapes and function The proportions of a spindle whorl are correlated to its morphological shape. The spindle whorl shape does not directly influence the spun yarn, although the ratio of its height and width, as well as its weight, affects the speed and duration of the spindle rotation due to its moment of inertia (Grömer 2005a, 112; Gleba 2008, 106; Kania 2013, 114). Nevertheless, the correlation between yarn quality and spindle whorl measurements should be considered with caution, since the role of the spinner’s experience and skill should be considered (Kania 2013, 2015; Olofsson et al. 2015). At Donja Dolina, spindle whorls of various shapes, or profiles, have been documented, such as globular, biconical, conical, lenticular, cylindrical, discoidal, as well as uniquely shaped ones such as star-shaped whorls and various shapes with concave top surfaces. Among the 53 whorls presented in this paper (Fig. 3.3), the biconical (49%) and lenticular

(47%) shapes predominate. However, there is one that can be categorised as a type of a globular whorl, as well as a single star-shaped whorl (Fig. 3.7.D). The problem with determining the shape of a whorl sometimes stems from the fact that they were shaped free-hand and are sometimes asymmetrical, ‘imperfect’, and not necessarily identifiable as one specific shape (Rahmstorf 2015, 4). Thus, it was not always possible to distinguish biconical from lenticular whorls, as they were not completely symmetrical, so a portion of both biconical and lenticular ones could have been identified as either of the two categories. The theoretical difference between the two was that the lenticular ones would have their top and bottom halves slightly convex, while straight lines would characterise the profile of the biconical ones. Furthermore, several lenticular whorls are considerably rounded, resembling flattened globular whorls. The star-shaped whorl has a generally biconical profile but was categorised as a separate type because of the points protruding out of its central part. These 53 objects were identified as spindle whorls because of the general similarities with other such objects found at the site, mainly based on their overall appearance, shape, and weight. Nevertheless, it should be noted that some of

3.  Tools and their products

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Fig. 3.3. Typological table of spindle whorl shapes mentioned in the text. Biconical and lenticular whorls are divided into subcategories depending on the shape of their protruding parts (Image: Author).

them could have been used secondarily as pendants as well, although use wear traces, where visible, do not support this interpretation. Almost all spindle whorls from the current collection have some traces of visible rounding and smoothing of the perforation edges and the whorl surface, as well as irregular indentations around the hole that probably result from spall detachments (on use wear in spindle whorls also see Spinazzi-Lucchesi in this volume). Such traces have been detected, analysed, and experimentally compared in several European prehistoric spindle whorl collections (Crewe 1998; Forte and Lemorini 2017; Forte et al. 2019; Żebrowska 2020). Although it is sometimes difficult to differentiate traces made during production, use, and post-depositional processes, the rounding of the protruding surface and the edges of the whorl perforation could be interpreted as a consequence of continual rubbing of the yarn being spun and wound onto the spindle (Żebrowska 2020, 132). On the other hand, indentations around the perforation edge might represent traces of repeated insertion of the spindle shaft into the whorl perforation (Forte and Lemorini 2017, 167), as well as wedging in of some other material between the spindle shaft and whorl to keep it secure (Crewe 1998, 61). Many spindle whorls also had some ‘fresher’ damage traces that were probably created during or after excavation. These were relatively easily identified and excluded from the analysis.

It is important to note that the whorls in question were never found within the actual burials but instead located within excavation trenches or scattered along the Iron Age pile dwelling settlement area. As mentioned earlier, the context of these finds, unfortunately, does not help identify their function because most were stored without notes on a specific find location, while some were even found as surface finds without clear archaeological context.

Yarn impressions Another aspect of the present research concerns the surface decoration of the spindle whorls in question. Spindle whorls during the central European Iron Age are often richly decorated, and the motifs and techniques are elaborate and varied (Grömer 2005a, 107, 2016, 85; Belanová Štolcová and Grömer 2010, 13). Of the 53 whorls examined here, 43 (81%) were decorated with yarn impressions (Fig. 3.4), which permitted measuring the thickness, twist direction, and angle of these threads, thus providing more insight into the textile production process at Donja Dolina. The remaining 19% were initially selected as part of the collection because of a decoration resembling yarn or cord impressions, but are more likely to be impressions of ribbed metal objects (Krmpotić and Vuković Biruš 2009,

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258; Kern and Grömer 2015, 30–1; Grömer et al. 2018) or even leather or some vegetable material wound around a relatively flexible core, which was impressed into wet clay (Krmpotić and Vuković Biruš 2009). Clay is an ideal medium for studying textile impressions. Pottery is also useful in fashion and textile production research since it was often decorated with clothing depictions or particular steps of the production process itself.

Clay as a medium for textile representation Numerous clay figurines of the Neolithic and Eneolithic periods and even the Bronze Age found throughout central and south-eastern Europe and beyond have been analysed extensively (Ucko 1962; Težak-Gregl 1984; Bailey 2005; Feagans 2013; Insoll 2017). In many instances, these figurines served as sources for textile and clothing reconstruction, as in the case with the figurines of the Eneolithic Vučedol culture in Croatia (Milićević 1984). The idea behind this interpretation stems from the fact that many Neolithic, Eneolithic, and Bronze Age figurines throughout Europe and South-East Asia were decorated in a way that resembles actual clothing (e.g. Feagans 2013, 143; Balen and Čataj 2014, 72), possibly even depicting different weaves and patterns. Like the clay figurines, clay anthropomorphic vessels have been decorated with different motifs in some instances (Naumov 2008;

Schwarzberg and Becker 2017), schematically representing possible pieces of fabric and clothing. In many cases, the decoration on prehistoric ceramic vessels can be interpreted as a schematic representation of motifs characteristic of textiles or weave types, as demonstrated by archaeological experiments comparing decorated pottery from the Aegean Neolithic with reconstructed weaving patterns (Sarri and Mokdad 2019). Finally, the Hallstatt period urn from Sopron in Hungary (Eibner-Persy 1980; Grömer in this volume) is possibly one of the most famous artistic representations of textile production. This pictorial evidence gives insight into the stages of textile production and depicts the tools used and the people involved in the process. A similar Early Iron Age vessel from Rabensburg in Austria shows a scene of a woman with objects possibly interpreted as a two-beam loom and a warping instrument (Barber 1991, 213). Furthermore, very valuable information about textiles, such as weave type, thread diameter, and even raw material (Grömer and Kern 2010; Ferrero 2014; Schaefer-di Maida 2017), can be drawn from impressions of threads, cords, strings, and woven bands or larger textile pieces on pottery vessels, either applied as deliberate decoration or possibly accidentally. In many cases, the deliberate impression of threads and textile bands was used to decorate pottery. In certain areas and periods, it was so prevalent that it became

Fig. 3.4. Spindle whorls belonging to the first decoration pattern group (Image: Author).

3.  Tools and their products a predominant decorating style, such as the Early and Middle Bronze Age phenomenon of the Litzen pottery (end of third and beginning of second millennium BC) (e.g. Šimek 1975; Martinec 2002; Marković 2003; Ložnjak Dizdar and Potrebica 2017; Grömer et al. 2018). The use of impressions as decoration has been researched and demonstrated in many cases by experimental archaeology (Dizdar 1996; Hurcombe 2008; Krmpotić and Vuković Biruš 2009; Leghissa 2015). On the other hand, as clay is a malleable material, in some instances, the textile might have been impressed into pottery by accident, while it was shaped in moulds covered in textile or set out to dry on a piece of cloth (Hurcombe 2008, 85; Doumani and Frachetti 2012, 375). There are also instances of textiles impressed into the structure and walls of clay vessels, which are probably the result of textiles being incorporated into the clay structure as supporting material for the vessel’s shape before and during firing (Mazăre 2013).

Yarn impression as spindle whorl decoration In the case of the 43 Donja Dolina spindle whorls, yarn was purposefully impressed into the clay surface to create diverse decorative patterns. Three distinctive groups of motifs can be distinguished, while there are five spindle whorls whose decoration pattern does not fit into any of the three categories (Fig. 3.5). In the first (Fig. 3.5, Group 1, A and B; Fig. 3.4), most numerous group (70%), the pattern comprises 2–5 groups of 3–7 parallel concentric curves, made by impressing yarn, on both hemispheres (top and bottom) of the whorl. Viewed from the side, the edges of the top and bottom sets either align or unevenly cross over one another to form irregular, concentric ovals, or circles. The surfaces between these curves are sometimes filled with impressed or punctured dots, circles, spirals, or squares (Fig. 3.4.B), distinguishing this as a subcategory within this first group. In two cases, the centre of the concentric circles has an impressed line or cross. The decorative pattern in the second category (11%) is formed by 3–8 parallel, zig-zagging lines of impressed yarn, usually on both sides of the whorl (Fig. 3.5, Group 2, A and B;

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Fig. 3.6.A). When viewed from the side, these lines overlap in the middle of the whorl, creating concentric diamond-like shapes. A separate subcategory has the spaces between the impressed yarn lines filled with punctured dots (Fig. 3.6.B). The third decoration group (7%) consists of yarn-impressed vertical lines, usually, but not always, touching the whorl perforation edges (Fig. 3.5, Group 3, A and B). In some cases, the lines are spaced at even distances, while in others they are not regularly spaced or are grouped into rows of several parallel lines (Fig. 3.6. C–D). The fourth decoration category groups together the five uniquely decorated whorls (12%), whose ornamentation design is composed of yarn impressions arranged in patterns that either do not resemble any of the three earlier defined groups or the impressions are placed completely randomly (Fig. 3.5, Group 4; Fig. 3.7).

Impressed yarn technical parameters All the described decoration patterns were produced by impressing yarn into the surface of the spindle whorls while the clay was still wet. Using digital microscopy where possible, the twist direction, twist angle, and thickness of the threads was documented. All the impressions are made with plied yarn. Unfortunately, it was impossible to determine the spin direction and angle of the single yarns because the microstructure of the plied threads is not visible in the impressions, either when viewed by the naked eye or using digital microscopy. Z (clockwise) ply direction (Fig. 3.4.A and C; Fig 3.7.B and C; Fig. 3.8.A) predominates in most impressions. Given that all the impressions are negatives of the original yarn, this would mean the prevalent (53%) impression of S-plied yarn into these spindle whorls (Figs 3.8, C, 3.9). About 23% of the spindle whorls were decorated by impressing originally Z-plied yarn (S direction in impressions, Figs 3.4.B and D, 3.6.B and D, 3.7.A and D), while about 20% show impressions of both S and Z-plied yarn on the same object (Fig. 3.6.A and C). The combination of S- and Z-plied yarn is most common in the second decoration pattern group, where almost all the zig-zagging

Fig. 3.5. Four decoration pattern groups: Group 1) impressed parallel curves on both surfaces of the whorl; Group 2) impressed parallel zig-zag lines on both surfaces of the whorl; Group 3) vertical impressed lines along the perimeter of the whorl; Group 4) unique or undefined patterns of impressed yarn and incisions on the entire surface of the whorl (Image: Author).

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Fig. 3.6. A and B) spindle whorls belonging to the second decoration pattern group; C and D) spindle whorls belonging to the third decoration pattern group (Image: Author).

lines are comprised of multiple rows of interchanging Sand Z-plied yarn impressions. It might be that this design allowed the differently plied yarn impressions to stand out and create a unique visual effect, similar to spin-patterning used during weaving in Early Iron Age Europe (Grömer 2016, 171). The ply angle of the impressed threads was measured where visible. On average, the minimum ply angle is approximately 47.5° and the maximum approximately 55° (Fig. 3.8.B and D). Nevertheless, there are several spindle whorls whose thread impressions have ply angles between 27° and 35° and a few whose ply angle is greater than 65°. On a single whorl, the minimum and maximum ply angle difference ranges from 2–18°. Where the difference is smaller, there is a greater chance that either the threads used for impression were uniformly plied or that the same thread was impressed multiple times. However, the threads showing significant difference in ply angle on the same spindle whorl do not necessarily mean different pieces of thread were used but could rather imply unevenly plied thread or even errors during measuring. The errors might have arisen in examples where the thread impressions are curved, making the ply angle measurement

quite difficult. The ply angle helps interpret how hard the yarn was plied, with the angles 0°–10°, 10°–25°, 25°–45°, and 45°–90° indicating very loosely, loosely, medium, and hard-plied thread, respectively (Gleba and Harris 2019, 2337, fig. 7). In this case, only 30% of the measured values show angles between 27° and 45°, indicating medium-plied threads, while the remaining 70% are hard-plied, their ply angle ranging from 45° to 77°. Finally, the thread diameter was measured where possible, with values ranging from 0.7–1.6 mm. The average minimum diameter is 1 mm, while the average maximum is 1.3 mm (Fig. 3.8.B and D). The average difference between the minimum and maximum diameters of thread impressions on a single whorl is about 0.3 mm. The difference in thread thickness on a single whorl could result from using different thread pieces for decorating the whorl but could also be due to some threads being pressed deeper and rolled a bit into the clay, leaving slightly wider impressions than the original thread that was used. It should be noted that the depth of the impressions was not measured. This means that the measured diameters may not represent the maximum thread diameters if the threads were impressed with less than 50% of their total width (Grömer and Kern

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Fig. 3.7. Spindle whorls belonging to the fourth decoration pattern group (Image: Author).

2010, 3137). Also, the shrinkage of clay while drying and firing should be considered (Henderson 2000, 128). In this case, it should be taken into account that the wet clay whorls would have shrunk after the yarn was impressed into their surface by a certain amount of their volume depending on the clay composition, manner, and quickness of their drying and firing (Sofaer 2018, 52). This implies that the original yarn used for clay decoration was possibly slightly thicker than its final measured impressions. Generally, these above presented values indicate the use of medium-fine (0.7 mm) to coarse (1 mm) and very coarse (1.5 mm) yarn (Grömer 2005b, 28, fig. 13) for decorating the spindle whorls. Such coarse and thick threads are relatively less common in the Hallstatt world than they had been in the previous periods (Grömer 2005a, 111, 2005b, 22, 2006, 39, 2012, 37). However, these results do not mean that no fine and only medium-fine to coarse threads were produced and used at Donja Dolina. Rather, it suggests that thicker threads were selected for decorating wet clay whorls. This was possibly because the effect of impressed, twisted, and plied fibres was more pronounced and visible if thicker yarn was used. Another 10 spindle whorls with decoration resembling yarn impressions were initially included in this analysis.

After a more detailed examination, however, it became clear that the decoration on the surfaces of these whorls was not made by impressing thread made of spun and plied fibre, but probably some other objects imitating a thread (Fig. 3.10). The impressions of the single threads of plied fibre threads are usually at an angle to the thread itself, while in these cases, these impressions are perpendicular to the object itself, the impression edges are much more clean-cut, and are very rarely shaped into curved lines. The decoration on 7 of the 10 whorls can be categorised as the third decoration pattern group (Fig. 3.5, Group 3), where the linear impressions are organised into vertical lines around the whorl perimeter. Archaeological experiments have shown that such impressions in clay are usually made by ribbed metal objects (Krmpotić and Vuković Biruš 2009, 258; Kern and Grömer 2015), leather cords wound around another thin and elastic object (probably also made of organic material), or even by a ribbed wheel or a comb (Krmpotić and Vuković Biruš 2009, 257–8; Leghissa 2015, 285). Similarly made marks have been noted on several loom weights from Donja Dolina as well, although none of the loom weights have thread impressions on their surfaces. It would appear that thread impression was reserved for spindle whorls only.

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Fig. 3.8. Digital microphotographs of two spindle whorl decorations at 20× magnification. A and B) whorl surface with visible Z-plied impression (S-plied yarn), with thread diameter and twist angle measurements. C and D) negative cast of spindle whorl decoration in modelling clay – visible S-plied impressions (S-plied yarn), with thread diameter and twist angle measurements (Image: Author).

Fig. 3.9. The impression of a Z-spun or plied thread results in a negative cast of the original thread, where the twist direction is opposite (S-directional) from the original thread’s twist or ply.

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Fig. 3.10. Two spindle whorls with decoration resembling or imitating yarn impression but created by impressing other kinds of ribbed material (Image: Author).

Final remarks Spindle whorls recovered in excavations at Donja Dolina show a high percentage of surface decoration, but only a tiny portion of those were created by yarn or thread impressions. The spindle whorl and yarn analysis and results presented in this paper show that much information can be gained from a seemingly small set of textile-related finds. Currently, it is not possible to establish a clear connection between ply angle, thread thickness, and the decoration pattern on a given whorl since the total number of spindle whorls analysed is not large enough and is possibly the result of a biased sampling process of material finds during the early twentieth century excavations. Nevertheless, a pattern can be established when the weight of the whorls is correlated to the thread thickness. The thinnest threads (minimum diameter of 0.7–0.9 mm) were impressed only on the lightest whorls that weigh up to 25 g. This might suggest that differently sized spindle whorls could have been impressed by specific yarn thickness to differentiate them from each other by their weight and the desired ideal spinning thickness. However, the sample is too small to draw such conclusions with certainty, especially when there are many exceptions to this ‘rule’, and the thread thickness based on these impressions is generally too varied to be linked with the weight of the whorls upon which they are impressed. As mentioned earlier, the microstructure or the individual fibres cannot be discerned in the impressed motifs, which is why it is difficult to determine the material of the threads themselves. For further research in this direction, the use of Scanning Electron Microscopy (SEM) might prove valuable, especially if such impressions were compared to experimentally made cord

impressions where different material proved to produce visually different effects in the clay surface (Grömer and Kern 2010). It should be added here that, visually, the impressions on spindle whorls from Donja Dolina are relatively regular and seem finely prepared, which, based on the mentioned experiment, might exclude any type of bast or grass fibres which usually have inconsistent thickness (Grömer and Kern 2010, 3142). Furthermore, wool is generally too soft for making clear impressions in clay, which is why it is most likely that the spindle whorls were possibly impressed with plied yarn made of flax or animal hair other than wool (Grömer and Kern 2010, 3142). A general conclusion that can be drawn is that these impressed spindle whorls of Donja Dolina are relatively average sized in comparison to Iron Age central Europe, although their larger perforation diameters imply the use of sturdier and thicker spindle shafts. Using such spindle whorls, it was possible to create a diverse range of threads, not only the thicker ones recorded as impressions in the present sample. A comparison can be made with several spindle whorls found in a settlement context at the Early Iron Age site of Kaptol in Croatia (Kramberger 2017; Potrebica and Fileš Kramberger 2021, 92). These spindle whorls have plied threads impressed into the whorl surface in patterns (zig-zag lines or parallel curves) similar to the ones present in the Donja Dolina sample. Further ongoing investigation of the site of Kaptol, along with a thorough comparison with the Donja Dolina finds, should yield valuable information on textile production and use during the Iron Age of the Sava valley area. Similarly decorated spindle whorls are rarely found or published, which is why this paper will,

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hopefully, encourage other researchers to delve into the question of textile tool decorations, possibly uncovering similar valuable, although rarely highlighted, observations.

Acknowledgements The research presented in this paper was carried out as part of the Croatian Science Foundation’s “Creation of European Identities–Food, Textiles and Metals in the Iron Age between Alps, Pannonia and Balkans (IronFoodTexMet)” project. The author would also like to thank Margarita Gleba for her encouraging words and constructive suggestions throughout the creation process of this paper.

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Mazăre, P. (2013) Textilien und tonwaren. Studien von textilabdrucken offenbaren einsichten in die techniken der töpfereimanufaktur / Textiles and pottery. Insights into pottery manufacturing techniques as revealed by the study of textile imprints. In J. Banck-Burgess and C. Nübold (eds), NESAT XI. The North European Symposium for Archaeological Textiles XI 10–13 May 2011 in Esslingen am Neckar. Rahden, Verlag Marie Leidorf. http://www.nesat.org/nesat_11_esslingen/abstracts/8_Mazare. pdf [accessed 26.01.2022]. Mazăre, P. (2014) Investigating Neolithic and Copper Age textile production in Transylvania (Romania). Applied methods and results. In M. Harlow, C. Michel, and M.-L. Nosch (eds), Prehistoric, Ancient Near Eastern and Aegean Textiles and Dress, 1–42. Ancient Textile Series 18. Oxford, Oxbow Books. Milićević, M. (1984) Rekonstrukcija ženske odjeće u eneolitiku međuriječja Dunava, Drave i Save. Opvscvla Archaeologica 9, 1–23. Naumov, G. (2008) The vessel as a human body: Neolithic anthropomorphic vessels and their reflection in later periods. In I. Berg (ed.), Breaking the Mould: Challenging the Past through Pottery, 93–101. Oxford, Archaeopress. Olofsson, L., Andersson Strand, E. and Nosch, M.-L. (2015) Experimental testing of Bronze Age textile tools. In E. Andersson Strand and M.-L. Nosch (eds), Tools, Textiles and Contexts. Investigating Textile Production in the Aegean and Eastern Mediterranean Bronze Age, 75–100. Ancient Textiles Series 21. Oxford, Oxbow Books. Potrebica, H. (2003) Požeška kotlina i Donja Dolina u komunikacijskoj mreži starijeg željeznog doba. Opvscvla Archaeologica 27, 217–42. Potrebica, H. and Fileš Kramberger, J.K. (2021) Early Iron Age textile tools from the Požega Valley, Croatia. Archaeological Textiles Review 62, 83–100. Rahmstorf, L. (2015) An introduction to the investigation of archaeological textile tools. In E. Andersson Strand and M.-L. Nosch (eds), Tools, Textiles and Contexts. Investigating Textile Production in the Aegean and Eastern Mediterranean Bronze Age, 1–23. Ancient Textiles Series 21. Oxford, Oxbow Books. Sarri, K. and Mokdad, U. (2019) Recreating Neolithic textiles: an exercise on woven patterns. In C. Souyoudzoglou-Haywood and A. O’Sullivan (eds), Experimental Archaeology: Making, Understanding, Story-telling Proceedings of a Workshop in Experimental Archaeology, 83–92. Oxford, Archaeopress. Schaefer-Di Maida, S. (2017) ‘Textilkeramik’ – Textileindrücke auf bronzezeitlicher Keramik vom Fundplatz Bruszczewo. Światowit LVI, 23–42. Schwarzberg, H. and Becker, V. (eds) (2017) Bodies of Clay. On Prehistoric Humanised Pottery. Proceedings of the Session at the 19th EAA Annual Meeting at Pilsen, 5th September 2013. Oxford, Oxbow Books. Šimek, M. (1975) Licenska keramika u Gradskom muzeju Varaždin / Litzenkeramik im Stadtmuseum Varaždin. Godišnjak Gradskog muzeja 5, 13–24. Sofaer, J. (2018) Potter’s clay. In L. Bender Jørgensen, J. Sofaer, and M.L. Stig Sørensen (eds), Creativity in the Bronze Age. Understanding Innovation in Pottery, Textile, and Metalwork Production, 51–6. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Težak-Gregl, T. (1984) Neolitička i eneolitička plastika. Vjesnik Arheološkog muzeja u Zagrebu XVI–XVII, 15–48.

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4 Shears in the ancient world: A comparison between the Iberian culture of southern Spain and Roman culture in northern Italy Patricia Rosell Garrido and Fabio Spagiari

Introduction Shears are an instrument consisting of two blades joined together at the end tangs with a spring (Swift 2017, 56) (Fig. 4.1). The part between the spring and the blades forms a handle that allows the user to apply the pressure necessary to close the blades during the cutting action. The blades are generally triangular with a straight edge along the entire length, whereas the back of the blade can be convex or straight and in certain cases can be equipped with a reinforcement obtained with a rib (Spagiari 2021, 149). The tips can be pointed, blunted, or truncated. During the cutting action the blades overlap, closing one upon the other. Two settings of the blades are used: if the shears are held with the spring facing downwards, the left blade can cover the right one or vice versa; in the first case, we call it the ‘right-handed’ setting, in the second case it is the ‘lefthanded’ setting (Swift 2017, 64). To function properly, shears need a spring that can have two distinct shapes. The earliest is the U-shaped one, which appears in Europe between the fourth and the third century BC. A possible variant, which can be defined as ‘straight-shaped’, is attested in a specimen from La Serreta (Alcoi, Spain), dated to the end of the third

century BC: instead of being curved, the spring is formed at a right angle to the handle (Moratalla Jávega 1993, 272). The omega-shaped spring seems to have appeared around the second century BC in Italy and other parts of Europe: this type of spring permits more tension and resistance (Busana, Francisci, and Spagiari 2020, 289). It should be noted that omega-shaped springs do not replace U-shaped ones, which continue to be used simultaneously till the Middle Ages. This tool is usually made from a single iron bar, with a rectangular or circular section. However, there are also some specimens assembled in different ways: from two or even three elements. In the first case, the spring and one of the two blades are made from a single bar of iron, while the other blade is created separately, after which it is connected to the first half by rivets. In the second case, the spring and the blades are made from three different bars of iron and then joined together with rivets (Spagiari, Francisci, and Busana 2019, 44). Occasionally, shears are made of bronze: these are generally small because copper alloy has a poor tensile strength (Ryder 1983, 78; Swift 2017, 60). Bronze specimens are linked to medical purposes (Borobia Melendo 1988, 288) although they could have been used for other activities as well.

Fig. 4.1. Shears components (Image: F. Spagiari after Spagnolo Garzoli 1999, 237–40, no. 4).

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The chronology and the cultural contexts where shears were first introduced are still debated (Spagiari, Francisci, and Busana 2019, 44), however the current evidence suggests that they appear in Europe between the fourth century and the beginning of the third century BC. Examples are known from Marson (Marne, France) (Dechelette 1927, 787, fig. 554, 1), Manching (Bavaria, Germany) (Jacobi 1974, pl. 25, 408), Karaburma (Belgrade, Serbia) (Ljuština and Spasić 2016, pl. 2, 11), Mannesdorf (Bruck an der Leitha, Austria) (Ramsl 2011, pl. 214, n. 8), La Covalta (Valencia, Spain) (Alfaro Giner 1978, 307, fig. 8), Montefortino d’Arcevia and Bologna in northern Italy (Brizio 1899, pls X,3 and XI,7; Vitali 1992, 170–1, 285–94, 347–8, 350). Consequently, it is not possible to establish with certainty where shears were first introduced. They appear simultaneously in the La Tène cultural contexts in northern Italy, among the regions north of the Alps, in the Iberian culture, and in Greek and Punic contexts (cf. shears from Taranto dated to the end of the fourth century BC: De Juliis 1986, 407; shears from Palermo dated between the fifth and the beginning of the third century BC: Di Stefano 2009, 112).

Functions Sheep shearing According to many scholars (Forbes 1956, 6; Notis and Shugar 2003, 110; Beaudry 2006, 117), shears were first introduced due to the necessity for sheep shearing. This

instrument enabled wool to be collected twice per year from the animal, with the fleece removed intact, thus simplifying its transport and subsequent processing. Specimens employed in this activity usually have the blades with a straight edge and a straight or convex back (Swift 2017, 57) (Fig. 4.2.a). Shears are held with the blades positioned horizontally to cut the fleece, so the left-handed setting is the most common (Swift 2017, 65–6). It is essential to have pointed tips so that they can be inserted easily into the fleece (Ryder 1983, 696). Shears used with sheep for sheep shearing have to be longer than 20 cm and with a blade possibly longer than 10 cm (Spagiari, Francisci, and Busana 2019, 45). Iconographic sources underline the importance of shears for this activity, but they do not help in identifying the morphometric characteristics because the instrument is often depicted in a generic and stylised way, as for example on the stele from Aquileia (Udine, Italy) (Zaccaria 2009, 277–98) (Fig. 4.2.b) and the altar-tomb at Alba Fucens (Aquila, Italy) (Zimmer 1982, 120) (Fig. 4.2.c).

Textile activities Shears were also employed in various phases of textile production. Small size specimens were probably used to cut the yarn during the operations connected to weaving (Busana, Francisci, and Spagiari 2020, 291). Although most Roman garments were woven to shape, shears could be sometimes used for tailoring. A comparison with modern tailoring scissors suggests that ancient shears could have

Fig. 4.2. a) Morphometric features suitable for different functions (Image: after Busana, Francisci, and Spagiari 2020, 289, fig. 2.1); b) drawing of shears represented on the Aquileia stele (Image: F. Spagiari after Zaccaria, 2009, 289, fig. 5); c) drawing of shears represented on the altar-tomb of Alba Fucens (Image: F. Spagiari after Zimmer 1982, 120, fig. 33); d) drawing of shears represented on the Sens relief (Image: F. Spagiari after Wild 1970, 179, fig. 73b); e) drawing of shears represented on the Vatican Museum relief (Image: F. Spagiari after Zimmer 1982, 134, fig. 49).

4.  Shears in the ancient world had wide and medium-length blades, between 10.5 and 20.4 cm because they allow an extended and continued action essential for cutting fabric straight (Beaudry 2006, 124). It is also important that tailoring shears’ tips are blunted to avoid damaging the fabric (Spagiari, Francisci, and Busana 2019, 46). The user must employ a tool with a correct blade setting, so a right-handed person will use right-handed shears and vice versa. The shears were also used during the trimming of the nap when the wool fibres raised on the surface of the fabric using teasels were trimmed. The characteristics of the shears suitable for this activity are depicted in a funeral relief preserved in the Sens Museum (Burgundy, France): a man standing in front of a hanging fabric uses large size shears with right-handed setting and rectangular blades, holding them with both hands (Fig. 4.2.d).

Personal care Some Latin authors such as Martial (Epigrammaton libri, 7, 95, 12) talk about beard trimming with the forfex (shears), whereas Clement of Alexandria instructs men to cut their hair and shave off their moustaches with shears (Paedagogus, 3, 61, 1). While studying the Celtic tombs, Dechelette (1927, 789) thought that shears deposited as burial gifts together with razor blades were connected to hair cutting or to beard and moustache trimming. Indeed, there are some examples of shears fused by iron oxidation to the razor blade, as in the case of the specimen from the Tomb 5 of Somma Lombardo (Varese, Italy) (Simone 1985–1986, 106–8, pl. III,h). These artefacts were probably included as a set for personal care, as confirmed by the morphometric features of the shears. Although Manning (1985, 34) only considers those shears smaller than 15 cm as suitable for this activity, the analysis of the archaeological finds from northern Italy demonstrates that specimens around 18–20 cm long could also have been used (Spagiari, Francisci, and Busana 2019, 46).

Agriculture Latin writers also mention the use of the forfex in agriculture. For example, Columella (De Re Rustica, 12, 44, 4) and Pliny the Elder (Naturalis Historia, XV, 62) talk about this instrument in relation to viticulture. It seems that shears could be used in agriculture along with the pruning hook (falx arboraria) for pruning vines and trees (Deodato 1999, 334). Implements suitable for agriculture do not require particular morphological features, even though a wide blade and an omega-shaped spring can be more efficient for cutting resistant materials. Shears greater than 20 cm but smaller than 30 cm seem to be suitable for agricultural usage.

Other functions Shears are suitable for leather working, in particular, for shaving hair off animal skins (Swift 2017, 94). Although

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leather can be cut more accurately with a knife, sometimes shears could be used for the purpose: a relief from the Vatican Museum shows an artisan cutting a belt using shears (Zimmer 1982, 134) (Fig. 4.2.e). Shears were also part of the medical tool set for surgery operations or for cutting bandages. In addition, shears were employed for glass working, thatched roof building, cutting writing materials such as papyrus, or for other uses in the domestic environment (Spagiari, Francisci, and Busana 2019, 47).

Shears in the Alicante area of south-eastern Spain The variety of pre-Roman sites linked to the Iberian culture (sixth–fifth to second–first centuries BC) located in the south-east of the Iberian Peninsula makes it necessary to focus this study on the area of the current province of Alicante and the south of Valencia, which geographically corresponds to the central area of the regio Contestania (Llobregat Conesa 1972, 9; Grau Mira 2005, 88; Sala Sellés 2007, 53; Abad Casal 2009, 21). Five settlements and one isolated grave have yielded shears (Fig. 4.3), comprising a total of 14 pieces that have been analysed through a morphological examination and a review of their archaeological contexts. However, it should be noted that in some cases contextual data is lacking since the excavations are old and/ or the data have only been partially published. Most of the sites have produced only one example, except for the eight pairs of shears found at La Bastida de les Alcusses (Fig. 4.4) and the two pairs attributed to L’Alcúdia, but all of them are made of iron from a single piece (Sanahuja Yll 1971, 93) (Fig. 4.5). The specimen from La Covalta (Violant y Simorra 1953, 126; Vall de Pla 1971; Moratalla Jávega 1993; Raga y Rubio 1995; Mata Parreño and Soria Combadiera 2006) (Fig. 4.5.g) is dated to the middle of the third century BC and is well preserved, although incomplete as the left blade is fractured. Its spring is omega-shaped, the blades have a straight back and edge, the heel is curvilinear, the fit is left-handed, and the handle section is quadrangular. The shears have a maximum length of 16 cm, with a maximum blade width and thickness of 2 cm and 0.2 cm, respectively. The Xarpolar shears (Moratalla Jávega, 1993; Grau Mira and Amorós López 2014, 244–57) (Fig. 4.5.b) are from the end of the third century BC and are also in a good state of preservation but incomplete. The blade has a straight back and edge and the heel is straight and blunt, the section of the handle is circular, its maximum length is 17 cm and the maximum width and thickness of the blade is 2.3 cm and 0.24 cm. The shears from La Serreta (Llobregat Conesa 1992; Moratalla Jávega 1993; Grau Mira 1996; Olcina Doménech, Grau Mira, and Moltó Gisbert 2000; Amorós López 2020) (Fig. 4.5.c), dated to the end of the third century BC, are in a good state of preservation, complete, with a spring of the straight type. The blades have a convex back, the edge is

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Fig. 4.3. Map showing the limits of regio Contestania and the location of the six case studies: La Covalta (Albaida, Valencia, and Agres), El Xarpolar (Vall d’Alcalà), La Bastida de les Alcusses (Mogente), La Serreta (Alcoi, Cocentaina, and Penàguila), L’Alcúdia (Elche), and Camí del Bosquet (Mogente) (Image: P. Rosell Garrido after Bonet Rosado and Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2011, 9, fig. 1).

Fig. 4.4. Spatial distribution of the eight pairs of shears found in the oppidum of La Bastida de les Alcusses, Mogente (Valencia, Spain), fifth–fourth century BC (Image: P. Rosell Garrido after Bonet Rosado and Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2011, 65, 66 and 171).

4.  Shears in the ancient world

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Fig. 4.5. The analysed shears from south-east Spain: a) La Bastida de les Alcusses, Department 63 (Image: P. Rosell Garrido after Fletcher, Pla, and Alcacer 1969, 64, fig. 22); b) El Xarpolar (Image: P. Rosell Garrido after Grau Mira and Amorós López 2014, 252, fig. 8.24); c) La Serreta (Image after Moratalla Jávega 1994, 131, fig. 15); d) L’Alcúdia (Image: P. Rosell Garrido after Ronda Femenia 2016, 604, fig. 538.1); e) La Bastida de les Alcusses, Department 4 (Image: P. Rosell Garrido after Fletcher, Pla, and Alcacer 1965, 46, fig. 7); f) L’Alcúdia (Image: P. Rosell Garrido after Moratalla Jávega 1993); g) La Covalta (Image after Violant y Simorra 1953, 126, fig. 8.1); h) Camí del Bosquet (Image after Aparicio Pérez 1988, 414, fig. 7.4); i) La Bastida de les Alcusses, Department 126 (Image after Bonet Rosado and Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2011, 113, fig. 23).

convex-straight, the tips are blunt, the heel is straight and pointed, the section of the handle is quadrangular, and its maximum length is 28 cm, with the maximum blade width and thickness being 2.5 and 0.25 cm. These three specimens have only partially published archaeological contexts, complicating the task of identifying their possible functions. Even so, morphological analysis indicates that the shears from La Covalta may have been used for domestic and/or personal care purposes, and those from Xarpolar and La Serreta were most likely used in textile processing, leather processing, agriculture, and/or sheep shearing. The two specimens from L’Alcúdia (Ramos Folqués 1990; Ramos Fernández 1991; Sala Sellés 1992; Moratalla Jávega 1993, 1997; Abad Casal 2016; Ronda Femenia 2016, 2018) (Fig. 4.5.d,f) are dated to the first century BC and are partially preserved. The only one with an archaeological context (Fig. 4.5.d) (Ronda Femenia 2016, 604, 2286 and

2597) is incomplete due to the lack of the spring. Both its blades have a straight back and a straight heel, the section of the handle is quadrangular and the maximum length of the most complete piece is 30.3 cm, while the maximum blade length and width are 20 cm and 6.7 cm. The specimen was found in the northern sector of the site, in Grid 4–b and Stratum E, on a pavement of compacted earth and ashes, sharing space with a large quantity of amphorae, common and painted Iberian storage pottery, a grey ceramic vessel, three spindle whorls and two bronze cowbells inside a vessel, fragments of oil lamps, remains of a falcata sword, a nail, two plates with holes, and various other fragmented metal remains (Moratalla Jávega 1993, 155; Ronda Femenia 2018, 398). Based on their morphology, the functionality of these shears would be closely linked to textile activity – as also indicated by the presence of spindle whorls in the same context – specifically, to trimming the nap as suggested by their large dimensions. This suggests that,

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in addition to spinning, the inhabitants of the settlement were also weaving and working the fabrics, indicating that they were involved in several phases of the textile chaîne opératoire. Furthermore, as this appears to have been a storage space, these shears might not have been used in this particular dwelling, although this would indicate that the group living in the house possessed the necessary tool, possibly controlling the final stages of fabric production. On the other hand, the existence of two cowbells suggests that the shears could have used for sheep shearing, although the significant length and width of the blade would imply using them with both hands, making it difficult to grasp the fleece at the same time. The second pair of shears from L’Alcúdia (Moratalla Jávega 1993, 1997) (Fig. 4.5.f) is also incomplete, with only the lower half of the two blades preserved. Both blades have a straight back and edge and their maximum lengths are 7.63 and 6.58 cm, with the maximum width and thickness of the first blade being 2.62 cm and 0.35 cm and the second being 2.58 cm and 0.37 cm. The lack of information on their archaeological context, their fragmentary state of preservation, and their morphological characteristics make it impossible to determine their function. Among the shears found at La Bastida de les Alcusses (Fletcher, Pla, and Alcacer 1965, 1969; Moratalla Jávega 1993, 271; Bonet Rosado and Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2011, 167, 171), dated to the fourth century BC, only those from Rooms 4, 63, and 126 can be morphologically analysed, since they are fully published. Those from Room 4 (Fig. 4.5.e) are incomplete, the blade has a straight back and blade edge and a straight and blunt heel, the section of the spring handle is quadrangular, and their maximum length is 10.2 cm. Their reconstruction indicates a maximum blade length of about 13 cm and about 20 cm for the entire piece, so its function can likely be linked to domestic use and/or textile activity. The fact that this room contained three spindle whorls (Fletcher, Pla, and Alcacer 1965, 45–7) indicates spinning activity in this space, during which the shears could have been used to cut the threads. It should also be noted that the adjoining room (Room 3) had three more spindle whorls and two loom weights, indicative of spinning and weaving activities. Furthermore, Room 3 also contained tools for leather processing – a chifla (a blade for cutting leather) and two iron punches (Fletcher, Pla, and Alcacer 1965, 39–43), and although the morphology of these shears does not correspond exactly with those used in leather processing, their fragmentary nature does not allow us to completely rule out their use for cutting leather. The shears from Room 63 at La Bastida de les Alcusses (Fig. 4.5.a) are not very well preserved and are also incomplete. The blade has a straight back and edge, and its heel is straight and blunt. The section of the handle of the spring is quadrangular and the maximum length is 8.8 cm, while the blade width and thickness are 2.2 cm and

0.6 cm, respectively. This specimen was found in a large building (complex 5) that according to Bonet Rosado and Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez (2011, 90) is a large residence in which specific activities with a certain public dimension (meetings, celebrations, or exchanges) would take place, as it is located in the highest part of the entire settlement, isolated from any other building with walls 1 m wide. This room and the adjoining ones (Rooms 64 and 65) are considered to have been the living and storage spaces, and Rooms 61 and 62 the open-air areas. The furnishings of these rooms (Fletcher, Pla, and Alcacer 1969, 55–77) consisted mainly of metal tools destined for craft and metallurgical activities, prestigious ceramics for consumption and serving of liquids, as well as a pair of spindle whorls. The context and the reconstructed maximum length of the shears, which would be between 20 and 25 cm, make it unlikely that they were connected to domestic usage. More likely, they were used in a textile production activity such as spinning (two spindle whorls were recovered in Room 62), leather processing (two awls, knives, and even an esparto needle were found in Rooms 63, 64, and 65), or the agricultural and/or sheep shearing activities. However, the presence of a lead sheet with cut marks in strips in Room 63 could also suggest the use of shears to cut it, although the weakness of the blade (a maximum width of 2.2 cm and a thickness of 0.6 cm) makes this hypothesis unlikely. The shears from Room 126 (Bonet Rosado and Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2011, 113, 167) (Fig. 4.5.i) are in a good state of preservation and complete. Their spring is of the omega type, the blades have a convex back, the edge is convex-straight and the heel is curvilinear and blunt, the section of the handle is quadrangular, and its maximum length is 21 cm. These characteristics make them suitable for use in textile production, leather processing, agriculture, and/or sheep shearing. In this case, the partial excavation publication prevents us from knowing what other types of objects they were associated with, making it difficult to establish their function. The only pair of shears from the regio Contestania that formed part of a funerary assemblage was found in an isolated grave of Camí del Bosquet open-pit type (Fig. 4.5.h) (Aparicio Pérez 1988, 413) and dated to the fourth century BC. They are almost complete, with only the tips of both blades missing. It is the omega-type spring, the blades have a convex back, the edge is convex-straight, the heel is curvilinear and blunt, their fit is left-handed, the section of the handle is quadrangular, their maximum length is 15 cm and the width of the spring is 4.7 cm. The other grave goods include a sword (falcata), a spearhead, a sauroter with a missing tip, a javelin (soliferrum) and an falcata-shape knife (all made of iron), as well as bronze tweezers and a bronze ring-type fibula. This context and its characteristics indicate a domestic and/or personal use, a type of functionality that is feasible, especially in the case of grave goods

4.  Shears in the ancient world that constituted personal items belonging to the deceased during their lifetime.

Shears in northern Italy The first census of shears found in northern Italy and dated from the end of the second century BC to the fifth century AD was carried out as a Master’s degree thesis (Spagiari 2018–2019) and within the scope of wider research on Roman textile production tools conducted by the Department of Cultural Heritage of the University of Padua (projects Pondera, TRAMA and Lanifica). The aims of this study were: to identify the various functions of shears, to define and understand their morphometric characteristics, and to outline the features peculiar to each specific function. Archaeological contextual information was also recorded to provide as much assistance as possible in the interpretation of the specimens. The sample examined includes 309 pairs of shears found in 134 archaeological sites geographically distributed from Piedmont to Veneto (Fig. 4.6.a). Most of the specimens (95.5%) come from cemeteries, so their interpretation raises different problems than in the case of tools from settlement contexts previously discussed. This includes: the relationship between this tool and the deceased, its involvement during the funerary ritual, and its symbolic meaning. Eighty-nine per cent of the cemeteries that yielded shears are rural and only 10% are situated close to larger Roman cities. It seems that shears were common in the cemeteries connected with smaller settlements located in the countryside, suggesting a link between this tool and the agricultural and pastoral activities (Spagiari 2021, 150). The data collected from 211 tombs indicate that the deposition of the shears was not related to a specific funerary ritual (cremation or inhumation), nor to the status of the deceased (Spagiari 2021, 151): the tool is found both in upper-class tombs and in poorer people’s graves. The 130 examples with a precise chronology coming from well-documented graves allow us to outline a trend of this phenomenon during the Roman period. Shears are well represented in tombs dated between the end of the second century BC and the middle of the first century BC (49 examples), with a strong continuity until the middle of the first century AD (55 examples). Then, from the second half of the first century AD there is a clear drop in numbers (16 examples) with only very few (10 specimens) recorded throughout the middle and late imperial times (third–fifth centuries AD) (Fig. 4.6.b). The importance of shears for the deceased is indicated by its presence in the funerary ritual. In some cases, a ritual breakage or defunctionalisation of the tool has been documented. For example, the specimen found in Povegliano Veronese (Verona, Italy) (Vitali and Fábry 2013, 169–75, fig. 5, 19) and dated between the end of the second and the first century BC is strongly bent by distancing the blades from

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each other, resulting in a distorted spring. In many cases (105 specimens), only one half of the shears is found. It is possible that they broke during use and were subsequently used as knives, but the high number of specimens retaining more than half of the spring – which is not useful to create a new handle – may instead be indicative of an intentional breakage related to their deposition in the grave. Some shears were also defunctionalised by damaging the blade with a hammer, as in the specimen found in the Tomb L of Arquà Petrarca (Padova, Italy) (Gamba 1987, 260–1), dated between the end of the second century BC and the beginning of the first century BC (Fig. 4.7.a). The shears found in Tomb 233 at Arsago Seprio (Varese, Italy) conserve traces of combustion (Ferraresi, Ronchi, and Tassinari 1987, 66), indicating that this tool was placed on the pyre with the deceased (Fig. 4.7.b) (Spagiari 2021, 153). In 20 contexts out of 47 in which the exact position of the shears is known, the tool was associated with human remains (ashes or bones). Particularly relevant is the case of Tomb 4 at Valeggio sul Mincio (Verona, Italy), where the specimen was laid down on top of the right hand of the inhumed individual (Fig. 4.7.c) (Salzani 1999, 278). This possibly indicates that shears were often deposited in the grave because they were used during the daily life of their owner. The data regarding the gender and age of the deceased was determined only in a handful of burials. While the shears predominate in the male graves (16 cases), they are also present in the female tombs (8 cases). In the 31 instances of adult individuals, 25 were of non-determinable age (>20 years old), 4 were mature (40–49 years old) and 2 were of old age (>50 years old).1 In four cases the deceased were subadults: one adolescent (13–19 years old) from Tomb 59 of Oleggio (Novara, Italy) and three of infantile age (0–12 years old) from Tombs 23 and 26 of Mirandola (Verona, Italy) and from Tomb 43 of Nave (Brescia, Italy). While the deposition of shears among the grave goods is documented in the burials of individuals of every age and sex, they predominate in burials of adult males (Spagiari 2021, 151). These data are supported by the typology of the grave goods in which shears were deposited, even in the cases of unsexed burials. Twenty-five per cent of all the burials with shears have at least one object related to the warrior panoply: spearhead, spear butt, javelin, sword, or shield boss. These are very probably associated with male burials. The frequency of warrior graves with shears is much more common during the La Tène D1 period (end of the second century BC–beginning of the first century BC), when they reached 47% of the total. This custom seems to be inherited from the pre-Roman tradition, as documented in Tomb 132 at Monte Bibele (Bologna, Italy) (Vitali 2003, 417–21) or in Tomb Benacci 953 (Bologna, Italy) (Vitali 1992, 285–94), both dated to the third century BC. In these burials, shears were deposited along with very rich panoplies. The continuity of this tradition in Lombardy and Piedmont is linked

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Fig. 4.6. Shears in northern Italy: a) distribution map showing the sites where shears were found, classified according to the different chronological phases: the Late Iron Age/Roman period (second century BC–first half of the first century BC); the Roman period (second half of first century BC–fifth century AD); and sites with a continuity from the Late Iron Age to the Roman period (second century BC–fifth century AD); b) graph showing the number of shears represented during the different chronological phases (N=130).

to the strong La Tène cultural environment and the slow Romanisation process, which was only starting at the beginning of the first century AD. The reason why shears were deposited in warrior graves, especially the rich ones, is not easy to explain. From the analysis of their morphometric characteristics, the specimens found in these graves appear to have been primarily suitable for artisanal (e.g. leather working) or agricultural and pastoral activities. For example, the specimen from Tomb L of Arquà Petrarca was probably suitable for such uses (Gamba 1987, 260–1), with a length of about 24.5 cm, a right-handed blade setting, pointed tips, and a U-shaped spring. The presence of a handle of an iron tool interpreted as a razor or a sickle

further supports its functional interpretation. A comparison can be made with the shears found in Tomb 137 of San Bernardo at Ornavasso (Verbano-Cusio-Ossola, Italy) (Fig. 4.7.d) (Piana Agostinetti 1972, 139–40). This implement is 25.5 cm long, has an omega-shaped spring, convex back of the blades with a rib, left-handed setting, and blunted tips. Despite some differences, these shears also seem suitable for agricultural activities or for leather working. Both pairs of shears mentioned above come from very rich graves that each contained an iron sword and its scabbard, as well as a silver bracelet. It is necessary to point out that the presence of shears in connection with high-ranking individuals represented as warriors is probably related to the ownership of

4.  Shears in the ancient world

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Fig. 4.7. Some examples of the shears recorded in northern Italy: a) Arquà Petrarca, Tomb L (Image after Gamba 1987, 260–1, fig. 16.5); b) Arsago Seprio, Tomb 233 (Image: F. Spagiari after Tassinari 1987, 66); c) Valeggio sul Mincio, Tomb 4 (Image after Salzani 1999, 16, pl. VIA, no. 38); d) Ornavasso, Tomb 137 (Image: F. Spagiari after Piana Agostinetti 1972, 139–40, fig. 139 no. 7); e) Remedello di Sotto, Tomb 14 (Image: F. Spagiari after Vannacci Lunazzi 1977, 20, pl. XVI, no. 3); f) Introbio, ‘Warrior’s Tomb’ (Image after Rapi 2009, 74–6, pl. XXXV, no. 258).

the pastureland or the sheep flocks. Alternatively, the sheers from these contexts could have been used for horse mane and tale cutting (Spagiari 2021, 156). Shears are rarely found in contexts associated with textile tools, which are invariably related to spinning. Furthermore, most of the shears found in association with textile implements do not appear to be suitable for cutting fabrics. Only the specimens from Tomb 14 at Remedello di Sotto (Brescia, Italy) (Fig. 4.7.e) (Vannacci Lunazzi, 1977, 20, pl. XVI,3) and from Tomb 104 at San Bernardo at Ornavasso (Verbano-Cusio-Ossola, Italy) (Piana Agostinetti 1972, 115–16, fig. 108,3), which were found in association with a spindle whorl, could have had this function. Shears from

Tomb 3 at Borgo San Giacomo (Brescia, Italy) (Simonotti 2005, 39–40), equipped with right-handed setting, convex back blades and straight edge, omega-shaped spring, and measuring 16.1 cm in length, are suitable for yarn cutting, but their use for personal care or general domestic function cannot be excluded (Spagiari 2021, 157–8). The presence of other artefacts within the grave good assemblage in combination with the morphometric analysis can be useful to determine the possible function of the shears. For example, 45 graves contained tools related to personal care (razor, strigil, tweezers, and mirror). Only in nine cases do the shears seem to be suitable for this purpose since they measure 20 cm or less in length. In two cases,

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in Tomb 187 at Valeggio Lomellina (Pavia, Italy) (Frontini 1985, 90) and in Tomb 5 at Somma Lombardo (Varese, Italy) (Simone 1985–1986, 106–9, pl. III,h), the shears were fused with the razors due to metal oxidation. Razors and shears (as confirmed by the morphometric features) were deposited as a set for personal care, probably in a container made of some organic material. In two burials, shears were associated with a mirror. In a grave found at Arco (Trento, Italy) (Cavada 1996, 97–9), the presence of a small chest with silver fittings and a cosmetic spatula allows us to connect the shears with the personal care of a Roman lady (mulier). In 19 graves, shears were deposited together with agricultural tools (sickle, billhook, hoe-pickaxe, axe). Although the data on their morphometric features are often incomplete, at least five specimens seem suitable for agricultural uses. Shears from Tomb 102 of San Bernardo at Ornavasso (Verbano-Cusio-Ossola) (Vannacci Lunazzi 1977, 114–15, fig. 106–7) and from the ‘Warrior Tomb’ of Introbio (Lecco, Italy) (Rapi 2009, 74–6, pl. XXXV,258) (Fig. 4.7.f) were equipped with ribbed blades, maybe aimed at strengthening the blades for cutting small branches. The latter was particularly large (29.4 cm).

Comparative analysis The pooling of the morphometric characteristics of the shears, the associations with other objects, and the analysis of the archaeological contexts in which they were found made it possible to visualise statistical data regarding the functionalities of the shears in both study areas (Fig. 4.8). In the central area of the regio Contestania (Fig. 4.8.a), shears are linked to six of their seven possible functions. The most important of these are textile activity, sheep shearing, and domestic usage, in that order. Less important is their connection with personal care, leather processing, and agriculture, and none with medicine. However, the situation in northern Italy (Fig. 4.8.b) is completely different. Shears are used for all seven functions, although they seem to have a particularly strong link with craft activities (leather processing) and agriculture. To a lesser extent, they are linked to personal care or textile activities (Fig. 4.8.b), and are only slightly connected to sheep shearing, the activity to which they are mainly attributed in the literature. Nevertheless, it cannot be overlooked that some tasks that today would require a pair of shears could have been performed with knives or other sharp objects associated with other everyday practices or crafts, or even without them at all. At a morphometric level, the shears of the two territories show some differences in terms of springs. The so-called ‘straight-shaped’ spring, a specific type or possible variant of the U-shaped, was found only in the south-east of the Iberian Peninsula (La Serreta, Alcoi) and is dated to the end of the third century BC. Although it may have been

the result of the metalworker’s skill or a personal style since its functionality does not vary (Moratalla Jávega 1993, 272), the straight morphology does not appear to have been successful over the course of time. Furthermore, the omega-shaped spring seems to appear earlier in Spain, between the fourth and third centuries BC, backdating the spread of this type. Thus, among the Iberian specimens, only the omega and this straight type are recognised, while in Italy, in addition to the omega type, the U-shaped spring also appears. When we look at the contexts, an overview of the data from the two case study regions shows that in northern Italy the shears are found primarily in funerary contexts, while in the south-east of the Iberian Peninsula 13 specimens come from settlements, with only one found in a grave. The archaeological contexts of the shears in the Iberian settlements follow a consistent pattern: four of the five settlements are located in the interior of the Alicante mountains, in the central and northern area of the regio Contestania, and date between the fourth and the end of third century BC. Only L’Alcúdia is chronologically later, dating to the Final Iberian or Ibero-Roman period (the first century BC). Furthermore, all these settlements are characterised by a certain size. They are either oppida – fortified enclosures that controlled the resources available in their surroundings via a network of smaller settlements such as hamlets and watchtowers; or major cities that controlled a large territory which included the oppida (Abad Casal and Sala Sellés 2007, 62). The aristocratic groups residing in these settlements possessed and controlled the tools that they could lend or lease to their clientele (Grau Mira 2007), thereby controlling the resources and activities that took place in these central settlements. The situation is echoed in the Italian context during the Roman period and in particular during the period of Romanisation when this tool appears in rich graves characterised by the presence of grave goods made of precious metals and the panoply of weapons, as for example in Tomb L at Arquà Petrarca. As in the Italian contexts of the third century BC, where shears appear as part of the grave goods of prominent graves, shears from the Full Iberian period must have been a valued object in the possession of an aristocratic group in the settlement. The small number of extant examples of shears in this region is thus not surprising (one or two per site, with the exception of the case of La Bastida de les Alcusses), and can be compared to agricultural tools, which were also under the control of a few families. In northern Italy, the sites that yielded shears are concentrated in the regions of Lombardy and eastern Piedmont, particularly in the high plains near the Pre-Alps. This distribution is chronologically consistent during the period of Romanisation (end of second century BC–first half of the first century BC) and throughout the Roman period (second half of the first century BC–fifth century AD). Shears come

4.  Shears in the ancient world

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Fig. 4.8. a) Probabilistic frequency of activities that the shears recorded in south-eastern Spain could be used for; b) probabilistic frequency of activities that the shears recorded in northern Italy could be used for. The percentage values do not indicate absolute quantities, but ‘probabilistic’ ones, which derive from the sum of the percentages of probability of the specimens recorded.

almost exclusively from the rural cemeteries belonging to minor centres distributed throughout the territory, which suggests a link between this tool and agro-pastoral activities (Spagiari 2021, 150). However, it should be considered that, except for the Veneto region, the settlement system of northern Italy was strongly influenced by the preceding La Tène culture and was primarily characterised by a fabric of scattered villages, which, at least in part, continued to exist also during Roman times. Undoubtedly, in both study areas the shears were an object that symbolised control and power within the community whose economy was based on agriculture and livestock farming. Therefore, in both contexts they are related to high-ranking individuals. Looking at the gender aspect of the individuals connected with shears, in the Iberian case, the only grave with skeletal remains (Camí del Bosquet, Mogente) has never been studied osteologically, although the grave goods are similar in composition to the Italian graves of the third century BC and point towards a deceased male. If we consider the economic activities in which the shears were used, five of the six functions noted are related with the male sphere. However, women would also be involved, and even to a higher degree, in the use of shears within the domestic sphere, particularly in textile-related activities, a link confirmed by various archaeological and iconographic sources (Rosell Garrido 2020, 121–2). In fact, in four of the six Iberian contexts studied, the shears are linked to textile production, from the cutting of threads during weaving to the trimming of the nap (Alfaro Giner 1984, 41–3; Bonet Rosado and Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez 2011, 166–7). In the Italian case, the variety of specimens and the osteological analysis of some of the skeletal remains indicate that shears are predominantly associated with adult individuals, but there are also a few cases of subadults. Moreover, this instrument is associated with the deceased of both sexes and with each age group, albeit in different numbers. However, there is a definite predominance in the

association of shears with male individuals. Nonetheless, the data clearly show that women also engaged in the various types of housework, personal care, or even certain agricultural activities, that required the use of shears. The correlation between the object and sex–gender of its user is not rigid and, depending on the customs of each family or community and the needs of their daily life, the associations flow in different directions, especially in the case of such a versatile instrument. The difference in contexts between the two study areas and the quantity of shears recovered is to a large degree affected by the choice of excavation site and the method of excavation. This is particularly the case in northern Italy, where the cemeteries analysed came to light primarily as a result of rescue excavations carried out in recent decades during city development projects. Closed contexts such as burials are conducive for shears’ preservation. Their absence (to date) in north Italian settlement contexts can be explained by the limited number of settlements, the strong continuity of life in the main Roman cities up to the present day, as well as the constant reuse and recycling of metal objects in antiquity. In contrast, in the south-east of the Iberian Peninsula there are many well-excavated settlements which had relatively short periods of duration and provide us with valuable information about the contexts in which the shears were used. At the same time, while there are also many excavated Iberian cemeteries that have been studied, shears do not usually appear as part of their grave goods assemblages. It is furthermore possible that the contextual difference between Italy and Spain is the result of different cultural practices connected to shears in these different societies and chronological periods: a use and possession by a ruling family whereby the tool is stored in a specific place within a settlement in the south-east of Spain, and a reuse and/ or defunctionalisation for funerary purposes (as is also observed for the weaponry) which indicates an individual possession for the Roman world of northern Italy.

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It is our hope that future studies in other regions and chronological periods will add more information about the development, use, and social significance of this undervalued tool.

Acknowledgements This work would not have been possible without Professor Margarita Gleba who gave us the opportunity to be part of this publication. Likewise, we would like to thank Professor Jesús Moratalla Jávega (Department of Prehistory, Archaeology, Ancient History, Greek Philology and Latin Philology from the University of Alicante) who has made his unpublished dissertation and other data available for this research, which enabled the creation of the map of the peninsular south-east.

Note 1

For age ranges see Canci and Minozzi 2005, 88.

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Textile Handcraft. Structures, Tools and Production Processes. Proceedings of the VIIth International Symposium on Textiles and Dyes in the Ancient Mediterranean World (Granada, Spain 2–4 October 2019), 287–94. Granada, University of Granada Press. Canci, A. and Minozzi, S. (2005) Archeologia dei resti umani. Dallo scavo al laboratorio. Roma, Carocci editore. Cavada, E. (1996) Chiavi e complementi di chiusura di età romana e altomedievale: contesti di rinvenimento e cronologia di alcuni esemplari trentini. In U. Raffaelli and C. Bassi (eds), Oltre la porta: serrature, chiavi e forzieri dalla preistoria all’età moderna nelle Alpi orientali, 94–103. Trento, Provincia autonoma di Trento, Servizio beni culturali. Dechelette, J. (1927) Manuel d’archéologie préhistorique celtique et gallo-romaine, IV, Seconde age du fer au époque de La Tène. Paris. Dedodato, A. (1999) Vir agricola, mulier lanifica. Gli strumenti da lavoro e della cura di sé. In G. Spagnolo Garzoli (ed.), Conubia gentium. La necropoli di Oleggio e la romanizzazione dei Vertamocori, 331–9. Torino, Omega. De Juliis, E.M. (1986) Gli ori di Taranto in età ellenistica, Exhibition catalogue at Brera 2, Milan (December 1984–March 1985). Milano, Mondadori. Di Stefano, C.A. (2009) La necropoli punica di Palermo: dieci anni di scavi nell’area della Caserma Tukory. Biblioteca di Sicilia Antiqua 4. Pisa, Fabrizio Serra. Ferraresi, C., Ronchi, N. and Tassinari, G. (1987) La necropoli romana di via Beltrami ad Arsago Seprio. Rassegna di studi del Civico museo archeologico e del Civico gabinetto numismatico di Milano, XXXIX–XL. Milano, Comune di Milano, Settore cultura e spettacolo. Fletcher, D., Pla, E. and Alcacer, J. (1965) La Bastida de les Alcusses (Mogente, Valencia) I. Valencia, Servicio de Investigación Prehistórica de la Diputación Provincial. Fletcher, D., Pla, E. and Alcacer, J. (1969) La Bastida de les Alcusses (Mogente, Valencia) II. Valencia, Servicio de Investigación Prehistórica de la Diputación Provincial. Forbes, R.J. (1956) Studies in Ancient Technology Vol. IV. Leiden, Brill. Frontini, P. (1985) La ceramica a vernice nera nei contesti tombali della Lombardia. Archeologia dell’Italia Settentrionale 3. Como, Ed. New Press. Gamba, M. (1987) Analisi preliminare della necropoli di Arquà Petrarca (Padova). In D. Vitali (ed.), Celti ed Etruschi nell’Italia centro–settentrionale dal V sec. a.C. alla Romanizzazione, 237–70. Bologna, University Press. Grau Mira, I. (1996) Estudio de las excavaciones antiguas de 1953 y 1956 en el poblado ibérico de La Serreta. Recerques del Museu d’Alcoi 5, 83–119. Grau Mira, I. (2005) El territorio septentrional de la Contestania. In I. Grau, F. Sala, and L. Abad (eds), La Contestania Ibérica, Treinta Años Después: Actas de las I Jornadas de Arqueología Ibérica, 73–90. Alicante, Universidad de Alicante. Grau Mira, I. (2007) Dinámica social, paisaje y teoría de la práctica. Propuesta sobre la evolución de la sociedad ibérica en el área central del oriente peninsular. Trabajos de Prehistoria 64 (2), 119–42. Grau Mira, I. and Amorós López, I. (2014) Secuencia de ocupación y análisis territorial del poblado ibérico de El Xarpolar (Vall d’Alcalà, Alacant). Archivo de Prehistoria Levantina 30, 239–61.

4.  Shears in the ancient world Jacobi, G. (1974) Werkzeug und Gerät aus dem Oppidum von Manching. Wiesbaden, F. Steiner. Ljuština, M. and Spasić, M. (2016) Brothers-in-shears in the afterlife: La Tène warrior panoply and chronology at Belgrade– Karaburma. In S. Berecki (ed.), Iron Age Chronology in the Carpathian Basin. Proceedings of the International Colloquium from Târgu Mureş 8–10 October 2015. Bibliotheca Mvsei Marisiensis. Series Archaeologica XII, 325–38. Cluj–Napoca, Editura Mega. Llobregat Conesa, E. (1972) Contestania ibérica. Alicante, Instituto de Estudios Alicantinos. Llobregat Conesa, E. (1992) El urbanismo ibérico en La Serreta. Recerques del Museu d’Alcoi 1, 37–70. Manning, W.H. (1985) Catalogue of the Romano-British Iron Tools, Fittings, and Weapons in the British Museum. London, British Museum Press. Mata Parreño, C. and Soria Combadiera, L. (2006) La Covalta y Casa del Monte, dos pájaros de un tiro. In H. Bonet, Mª.J. de Pedro, Á. Sánchez, and C. Ferrer (eds), Arqueología en Blanco y negro. La Labor del SIP: 1927–1950, 119–24. Valencia, Museu de Prehistòria de València and Diputació de València. Moratalla Jávega, J. (1993) Útiles agrarios de la Contestania ibérica. Unpublished bachelor thesis, Universidad de Alicante. Moratalla Jávega, J. (1997) Explotación agropecuaria en época ibérica en torno a la Alcudia (Elche): el instrumental. In L. Abad, M.S. Hernández and R. Ramos (eds), Actas del XXIII Congreso Nacional de Arqueología: Elche 1995, Vol. 1, 369–76. Elche, Ayuntamiento de Elche. Notis, M.R. and Shugar, A.N. (2003) Roman shears: Metallography, composition, and a historical approach to investigation. In Associazione Italiana di Metallurgia (ed.), Archaeometallurgy in Europe. International Conference (24–25–26 September 2003), Vol. 1, 109–18. Milano, AIM. Olcina Doménech, M.H., Grau Mira, I. and Moltó Gisbert, S. (2000) El sector I de La Serreta: noves perspectives sobre l’ocupació de l’assentament. Recerques del Museu d’Alcoi 9, 119–44. Piana Agostinetti, P. (1972) Documenti per la protostoria della Val d’Ossola. San Bernardo d’Ornavasso e le altre necropoli preromane. Milano, Cisalpino-Goliardica. Raga y Rubio, M. (1995) El poblado ibérico de ‘La Covalta’ (Albaida, Valencia y Agres: Alicante): estudio de las cerámicas ibéricas y su aportación a la problemática sobre su cronología. Saguntum 29, 113–22. Ramsl, P.C. (2011) Das latènezeitliche Gräberfeld von Mannersdorf am Leithagebirge, Flur Reinthal Süd, Niederösterreich: Studien zu Phänomenen der latènezeitlichen Kulturausprägungen. Wien, Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Ramos Fernández, R. (1991) El yacimiento arqueológico de La Alcudia de Elche. Valencia, Consell Valencià de Cultura. Ramos Folqués, A. (1990) Cerámica ibérica de la Alcudia (Elche, Alicante). Alicante, Instituto Juan Gil-Albert. Rapi, M. (2009) La seconda età del Ferro nell’area di Como e dintorni: materiali La Tène nelle collezioni del Civico Museo Archeologico P. Giovio. Como, Musei Civici di Como. Ronda Femenia, A.Mª. (2016) L’Alcúdia de Alejandro Ramos Folqués. 50 años de estudios arqueológicos. Thesis, Universidad de Alicante.

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Ronda Femenia, A.Mª. (2018) L’Alcúdia de Alejandro Ramos Folqués. Contextos arqueológicos y humanos en el yacimiento de la Dama de Elche. Alicante, Publicaciones Universidad de Alicante. Rosell Garrido, P. (2020) Missing objects: New perspectives to tackle the problem of textile activity. In K. Kaercher, M. Arntz, N. Bomentre, X.L. Hermoso-Buxán, K. Kay, S. Ki, R. Macleod, H. Muñoz-Mojado, L. Timbrell, and I. Wisher (eds), Proceedings of the Cambridge Annual Student Archaeology Conference 2019: New Frontiers in Archaeology, 115–28. Oxford, Archaeopress. Ryder, M.L. (1983) Sheep & Man. London, Duckworth. Sala Sellés, F. (1992) La ‘tienda del alfarero’ en el yacimiento ibérico de La Alcudia (Elche–Alicante). Alicante, CAM Fundación Cultural. Sala Sellés, F. (2007) Algunas reflexiones a propósito de la escultura ibérica de la Contestania y su entorno. In L. Abad and J.A. Soler (eds), Actas del Congreso de Arte Ibérico en la España Mediterránea, 51–82. Alicante, Instituto Juan Gil-Albert. Salzani, L. (1999) La necropoli gallica di Valeggio sul Mincio. Mantova, SAP Società Archeologica S.r.l. Sanahuja Yll, Mª.E. (1971) Instrumental de hierro agrícola e industrial de la época ibero–romana en Cataluña. Pyrenae 7, 61–110. Simone, I. (1985–1986) La necropoli gallica di Somma Lombardo (VA). Sibrium 18, 99–114. Simonotti, F. (2005) Borgo S. Giacomo (BS) Cascina Paoletti (Menec), Necropoli romana. Notiziario della Soprintendenza per i Beni archeologici della Lombardia, 3–40. Spagiari, F. (2018–2019) Le cesoie nel mondo romano: studio preliminare delle testimonianze dall’Italia settentrionale. MA thesis, University of Padua. Spagiari, F. (2021) La deposizione delle cesoie nei corredi tombali di età romana: analisi della documentazione dall’Italia settentrionale con uno sguardo ai contesti d’oltralpe. In M.S. Busana, C. Rossi and D. Francisci (eds), Lanifica. Il ruolo della donna nella produzione tessile attraverso le evidenze funerarie, 147–161, Antenor Quaderni 51. Padova, Padova University Press. Spagiari, F. Francisci, D. and Busana, M.S. (2019) La cesoia, uno strumento polifunzionale. Prime considerazioni per uno studio delle testimonianze dalla Cisalpina romana. Instrumentum 50, 43–50. Swift, E. (2017) Roman artefacts & Society. Design, Behaviour and Experience. Oxford, Oxford University Press. Vall de Pla, Mª.Á. (1971) El poblado ibérico de Covalta (Albaida– Valencia) I: el poblado, las excavaciones y las cerámicas de barniz negro. Valencia, Museu de Prehistòria de València. Vannacci Lunazzi, G. (1977) Le necropoli preromane di Remedello di Sotto e Ca’ di Marco di Fiesse. Reggio Emilia, Ist. Nazionale di Archeologia. Violant y Simorra, R. (1953) Un arado y otros aperos ibéricos hallados en Valencia y su supervivencia en la cultura popular española. Zephyrus 4, 119–30. Vitali, D. (1992) Tombe e necropoli galliche di Bologna e territorio. Cataloghi del Museo civico archeologico di Bologna, 9. Bologna, Istituto per la storia di Bologna. Vitali, D. (2003) La necropoli di Monte Tamburino a Monte Bibele. Bologna, Gedit.

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Vitali, D. and Fábry, N.B. (2013) Povegliano Veronese. Nuovi corredi celtici con armi. Notizie di Archeologia del Veneto 2/2013, 169–76. Wild, J.-P. (1970) Textile Manufacture in the Northern Roman Provinces. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Zaccaria, C. (2009) Novità sulla produzione lanaria ad Aquileia. A proposito di una nuova testimonianza di purgatores. In A. Donati (ed.), Opinione pubblica e forme di comunicazione a Roma: il linguaggio dell’epigrafia, Atti del Colloquio AIEGLBorghesi 2007 (Bertinoro, 21–23 giugno 2007), 277–98. Faenza. Zimmer, G. (1982) Römische Berufsdarstellungen. Berlin, Mann.

Ancient Sources Clement of Alexandria, Paedagogus. Edited by D. Tessore (2005) Roma, Città nuova. Columella, De Re Rustica. Translated by R. Calzecchi Onesti (1977) Torino, Einaudi. Martial, Epigrammaton libri. Translated by E. Mandruzzato (2017) Torino, Lindau. Pliny the Elder, Naturalis Historia. Translated by S. Boscherini, S. Rizzo, and A. Roncoroni (1984–1987) Pisa, Giardini.

Part II Application of analytical techniques on textiles and fibres

5 Bast fibre production from the southern coast of Peru: The case of the La Yerba II and III sites Camila Alday

Introduction The unique climatic conditions of Peru’s south coast enable the preservation of organic remains that are rarely found elsewhere. Due to the extreme dryness of the Pacific desert coast, the survival of perishable material culture (e.g. fishing nets, clothes, textiles, plant remains, and mummies) in Preceramic habitations, cemeteries, and shell middens is remarkable. The coastal Preceramic period (10,000–3500 BP) is central to the reconstruction of the history of maritime communities of the Andes (Prieto and Sandweiss 2020). Most importantly, Preceramic sites are windows into the coastal lifeways of the early fishing societies as early as 13,000 BP (Keefer et al. 1998; Sandweiss 2003; Dillehay et al. 2012). In the past decades, archaeologists have conducted investigations on Preceramic shell middens and habitations, focusing in particular on the human adaptations to aquatic and coastal environments. These studies have shown that early hunter-gatherers developed quite sophisticated maritime subsistence strategies (De France 2009; Sandweiss 2009; Lavalle and Julien 2013). Investigations of fish and marine shell remains, as well as palaeoclimatic studies, have contributed to our understanding of seasonal strategies of exploitation and patterns of occupation among early coastal societies (Reitz 2001; Carré et al. 2009). Similarly, studies on plant remains have investigated the earliest cultivated food plants and reconstructed the initial stages of plant domestication (Pearsall 2008; Piperno 2011). Together, archaeobotanical and faunal remains offer fundamental insights into the resource exploitation and intensification during the Preceramic period. The broadening spectrum of exploited resources during the Preceramic appears to have prompted the emergence of complex societies, mummification practices, sedentism, technological innovation, and early monumental architecture (Haas and Creamer 2006). Yet, these phenomena do not follow linear paths across the Pacific coast (Moseley 1992).

Fibre technology was a long-lasting tradition that also developed during the Preceramic period. For more than seven millennia, coastal hunter-gatherers used wild plants gathered from estuaries, wetlands, and riparian oases for the production of twined mats, nets, looped bags, skirts, ropes, and cordage (Engel 1963; Standen 2003; Beresford-Jones et al. 2018; Martens and Cameron 2019). Remains of bast fibre nets and lines for fishing, and looped bags for shell fishing have been found at Preceramic archaeological sites as early as 7000 BP (see Sandweiss 2003; Dillehay et al. 2012). By the end of the Preceramic period, coastal hunter-gatherer groups also started using cotton and camelid fibres to make more elaborate fabrics and textiles (Bird, Hyslop, and Skinner 1985; Splitstoser et al. 2016; Dillehay et al. 2017). The production of cotton nets for the fishing of ‘small schooling fishes’ was a rather critical innovation of coastal hunter-gatherers (Moseley and Feldman 1988). Cotton fibres maximised subsistence techniques as they allowed production of larger and more effective fishing nets (Moseley 1974; Quilter and Stocker 1983). Scholars have long noted the significance of cotton (Gossypium barbadense) in the fibre technologies used to harvest the coast’s rich marine resources in the emergence of complex societies in Peru during the Late Preceramic (Moseley and Fieldman 1988). Indeed, Moseley’s ‘Maritime Foundation of Andean Civilization hypothesis’ (1974) proposed that Andean complex societies arose from the exploitation of marine resources, rather than agricultural production. In this hypothesis, cotton nets played a fundamental role as a crucial maritime technology that facilitated the exploitation of small schooling fishes (e.g. anchovies) (Moseley 1992; Sandweiss 2003). However, there is not much direct evidence of cotton fishing nets before 6000 BP in southern Peru. Based on the findings of bones of Sciaenidae – a small pelagic fish species – along with fragments of yarn (made of unidentified raw

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Fig. 5.1. Location of La Yerba II and III, south coast of Peru (after Beresford-Jones et al. 2018, 401).

5.  Bast fibre production from the southern coast of Peru: The case of the La Yerba II and III sites material) at the Quebrada Jaguay site, Sandweiss and colleagues (1998) suggested that they represent the evidence of a specialised net fishing strategy. Similarly, discovery of a wide variety of fish remains at the Ring site suggests that its inhabitants also used diverse fishing techniques. Perhaps, this is not sufficient evidence to argue for the use of cotton nets at Quebrada Jaguay and the Ring site, but it does raise questions regarding the types of fishing strategies, technologies, and the raw materials of plant fibre artefacts used at these early Preceramic sites. The sole direct evidence for the use of cotton has been found at CA-09-71 Uni/Site in the Zana Valley in northern Peru, dated between 6278 and 5948 cal BP (Dillehay et al. 2007), indicating the use and early domestication of cotton on the north coast of Peru (Damp and Pearsall 1994). Yet, cotton as raw material represents only the culmination of a long trajectory of development of sophisticated fibre technologies, based first on gathered wild plants used for fishing nets and lines (Beresford-Jones et al. 2018). Despite their significance, however, the identification of the specific plant resources used by Preceramic hunter-gatherers, the methods of their processing, and ecological, social, and economic contexts of these plant fibre technologies have received little attention. This paper investigates plant fibre production on the south coast of Peru by studying plant fibre remains using archaeobotanical and structural analytical techniques. The archaeobotanical method refers to the identification of bast fibres using microscopic analysis of plant tissues. This study uses a reference collection of modern plants to complement the analysis of the archaeological bast fibres. The structural analysis refers to technical data regarding the techniques and technical characteristics of the plant fibre artefacts (thread and fabric structure). The study presents the preliminary analytical results of the plant fibre assemblages from two Middle Preceramic sites on the Río Ica estuary on the south coast of Peru: La Yerba II (7571–6674 cal BP) and La Yerba III (6485–5893 cal BP). By studying these assemblages, I argue that gathered wild plants underpinned the production of fibres used in gathering and fishing technologies during the Middle Preceramic on the south coast of Peru. The combination of archaeobotanical and structural data provides new insights into the social practices of the coastal hunter-gatherers in the south of Peru. This study proposes new frames of interpretation of coastal hunter-gatherers that integrate aspects of coastal lifeways with craft production. I will finish by introducing a dance metaphor to explain not only technical gestures but also coastal landscapes and social organisation as essential elements of Preceramic bast fibre production.

The Middle Preceramic of the south coast of Peru: La Yerba II and La Yerba III sites La Yerba II and III, two Middle Preceramic sites, are found at the Río Ica estuary with occupations spanning from

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7000–6000 cal BP (Fig. 5.1). These sites were investigated as part of the University of Cambridge One River Project in 2016–2018 (Engel 1991; Arce et al. 2013; Chauca and Beresford-Jones 2016). Coastal foragers initially inhabited La Yerba II (7571– 6674 cal BP), a shell midden composed of marine mammal, fish, crustacean, and kelp remains. While marine resources dominated the archaeological assemblage, gathered and hunted terrestrial resources including remains of guanaco, deer, land snails, and plants, particularly Cyperaceae rhizomes, were also recovered. Together, stratigraphy and subsistence assemblages suggest that La Yerba II was a base camp occupied by logistically organised hunter-gatherers. These groups were able to develop a reduced mobility system by locating themselves in ‘ecotonally diverse’ settings: places where different ecosystems conjoined, thereby offering access to diverse resources in multiple ecologies according to seasonal rounds (Beresford-Jones et al. 2015). Around one millennium later, a much larger population occupied La Yerba III (6485–5893 cal BP). This village was located slightly upstream, around 2.5 km from the sea, and consisted of sequences of circular, semi-subterranean houses set amidst dense midden deposits, with numerous large grinding stone and storage pits, whose inhabitants were interred in structured burials within the habitations. Gathered and hunted marine and terrestrial resources continued to dominate subsistence, albeit cultivated beans (Phaseolus lunatus and Canavalia sp.), guavas, and possibly domesticated animals (including guinea pigs and dogs) were also found at La Yerba III (Beresford-Jones et al. 2018). La Yerba III has much larger assemblages of obsidian lithics and debitage sourced to Quispisisa, 250 km away in the highlands, indicating more intense spheres of interaction. Both sites also exhibit all the hallmarks of the earliest permanent sedentary villages that started to coalesce along the littoral in the final millennium of the Middle Preceramic period (Quilter 1989; Benfer 2008).

The plant-fibre assemblages and analysis Materials Material analysed included delicate fragments of yarn, nets, looped bags, and mats (Table 5.1 and Fig. 5.2.a–d). The fibres wwere desiccated and very fragile, yet the fragments were in relatively good condition. The assemblages are currently in the collection of the Museo Regional de Ica, in Peru.

Methods Fibre artefacts were initially sorted based on macroscopic observations. The plant-fibre artefacts were classified in terms of form and manufacturing techniques identified from their textile attributes. The fibres were mounted on microscope slides to investigate the longitudinal section of the bast fibres and studied using a Leica microscope

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Table 5.1. Plant fibre assemblages of La Yerba II and La Yerba III sites. Context Artefact Shell midden with a large cultural Cord deposit composed of shells, mainly Cord and untwisted fibre Mesodesma sp. Cord Cord Cord Cord Preceramic context Cord Funerary context Cord-mat Dense midden dominated by Cord marine resources Cord Cord Dense midden dominated by Cord marine resources above Structure b, Cord phase 3 Cord Structure b, Phase 2 Cord Cord Dense midden dominated by Net marine resources Mat Cord Funerary context Cord Cord Dense midden dominated by Bag marine resources Cord Cord

N 1 2 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1

TOTAL

25

Sample code La Yerba II Trench 1, Sector 2 Strata 1007 La Yerba II Trench 1, Sector 2 Strata 1015 La Yerba II Trench 1, Sector 2 Strata 1017 La Yerba II Trench 1, Sector 2 Strata 1017f La Yerba II Trench 1, Sector 2 Strata 1018a La Yerba II Trench 1, Sector 2 Strata 1018b La Yerba III 111–1 L14 La Yerba burial La Yerba III Trench 2, Strata 9765a (M4) La Yerba III Trench 2, Strata 9765b (M4) La Yerba III Trench 2, Strata 9765c (M4) La Yerba III Trench 1, Strata 9505 2a La Yerba III Trench 1, Strata 9505 2b La Yerba III Trench 1, Strata 9505 2c La Yerba M1 9538 (9) a La Yerba M1 9538 (9)b La Yerba III Trench 2, Strata 9756 (M2) La Yerba III Trench 2, Strata 9750a (M3) La Yerba III Trench 2, Strata 9750b (M3) La Yerba III, Cateo 1, Strata 7003a (M5) La Yerba III, Cateo 1, Strata 7003b (M5) La Yerba III, Trench 3, Strata 9013a (M6) La Yerba III, Trench 3, Strata 9013b (M6) La Yerba III, Trench 3, Strata 9013c (M6)

Fig. 5.2. Plant fibres assemblages of La Yerba II and La Yerba III (Image: Author).

5.  Bast fibre production from the southern coast of Peru: The case of the La Yerba II and III sites DM400a and Hitachi TM3000 Tabletop Scanning Electron Microscope (SEM) at the McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research, University of Cambridge. Before the observation of the longitudinal section, modern specimens of cf.1 Typha and cf. Scirpus and Apocyneacea fibres were also observed under the microscopes to define the criteria for the classification of the raw materials. This methodology was based on observations of cross-sections and surface and internal characteristics that are present in the inner structure of the stems and leaves of plants (Fig. 5.3) (Bergfjord and Holst 2010; Patterson, Lowe, and Smith 2017). This step was essential in identifying the raw material, however the identification to species level was challenging, since due to the processing and manipulation of plants, fibres often lose a large part of their identifiable characteristics. In order to investigate the technological process, I carried out a systematic observation that permitted the identification of technical attributes of each artefact by using previous work on bast fibres, fabrics, and textiles (Emery 1966; Adovasio 1977; Gleba and Harris 2019). The use of SEM and Dino-Lite portable microscope allowed the identification of the characteristics of fibres and the manufacturing techniques, which in turn were used to reconstruct the technological processes of the plant-fibre technology.

Results Archaeobotanical analysis Sampled fibres were all desiccated. The colour was often brown or pale brown, although a small number of the samples were white. As will be discussed later, differences in the colour can be a way to distinguish plant fibres, at least within the La Yerba II and La Yerba III assemblages.

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Fibres of cf. Typha, likely Typha dominguensis (southern cattail), account for the largest proportion of the bast fibres among the samples. Typhaceae is a genus of cattail, widely distributed along the coast of Peru and Chile (Towle 1961; Leon and Young 1996; Beresford-Jones et al. 2011; Whaley, Orellana, and Pecho-Quispe 2019). The genus Typha is widely recognised for its edible tubers as well as for being an ‘industrial plant’ (Towle 1961). Fibres of cf. Scirpus, a family of sedges, constitute the next most common material used in the artefacts examined. Similarly, Eleocharis cf. flavescens, and cf. Schoenoplectus are sedges (or bulrush) commonly found at archaeological sites across the Pacific coast (Towle 1961; Cohen 1978; Beresford-Jones et al. 2018). The frequency of charred and desiccated sedge rhizomes (cf. Eleocharis flavescens) in occupation contexts at La Yerba II also suggest that they were used as food. In recent debates about the Cyperaceae plant family, many cf. Scirpus species have been reclassified to cf. Schoenoplectus genus, which includes rush plants with distinctive edged stems. Unfortunately, Schoenoplectus was not part of the reference collection in this study, therefore, the taxonomy of these bast fibres may need to be revised. Overall, fibres of cf. Typha and Scirpus (cf. Schoenoplectus?) occur as bundles of homogenous and straight, brown fibres, with little preparation beyond stripping off the bast fibres from the plant. Cf. Typha fibres exhibit less modification and retain more external epidermis, whereas Scirpus (cf. Schoenoplectus?) fibres tend to occur as thinner fibres with small fragments of adhering epidermis (Fig. 5.4). Scirpus (cf. Schoenoplectus?) and cf. Typha plants have a wide distribution across the Pacific coast. Yet, these monocots are circumscribed to coastal wetlands and estuaries (0–480 m above sea level) that receive limited water input (Whaley,

Fig. 5.3. A) Cross marks of Sarcostemma bast fibres (TLM); B) dislocation of Sarcostemma bast fibres (SEM) (Images: Author).

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Fig. 5.4. Bast fibres of: A) Typha; B) Cyperaceae (Images: Author).

Fig. 5.5. SEM micrographs of: A) cf. Sarcostemma bast fibres occurring as single fibres; B) cf. Scirpus fibres occurring as a pack of fibre bundles (Images: Author).

Orellana, and Pecho-Quispe 2019). Nonetheless, wetlands and estuaries both offer a variety of resources that were economically and nutritionally important for human habitation (Nicholas 1998). They provided coastal hunter-gatherers of La Yerba with an array of aquatic resources, low-ranked foods such as edible rhizomes of cf. Scirpus sp., small fauna, and raw materials (Beresford-Jones et al. 2018). Additionally, bast fibres of the dogbane (Apocynaceae) plants from riparian oasis environments (Whaley, Orellana, and Pecho-Quispe 2019) were used in some artefacts. These fluffy white ‘bast fibres’ were stripped from the phloem immediately underneath the epidermis (Fig. 5.5). To the naked eye, these appear as fine heterogeneous white fibres that might be mistaken for cotton (Fig. 5.6.A–D). Ethnobotanically, Apocynaceae have been used to procure bast fibres throughout the New World (Whiting 1943;

Beresford-Jones et al. 2018). Seeds of Asclepias spp. are reported from several Preceramic sites on the coast of Peru (Patterson and Moseley 1968; Cohen 1978; Bird, Hyslop, and Skinner 1985; Weir and Dering 1986; Moerman 1998; Splitstoser et al. 2016). Our samples of Apocynaceae seem to be of a closely related fibrous species Sarcostemma clausum (Jacq.) Schult (Whaley, Orellana, and Pecho-Quispe 2019, 58).

Structural analysis The technical attributes indicate a decortication process involving minimal retting or no retting at all, a minimal twist in the thread, and three different types of manufacturing technique: looping, knotting, and twining. Together, these data enable us to reconstruct the technological process as consisting of three major stages (Table 5.2).

5.  Bast fibre production from the southern coast of Peru: The case of the La Yerba II and III sites

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Fig. 5.6. A) Modern sample of cotton (Gossypium sp.) fibre; B) microphotograph of Apocynaceae fibre (cf. Sarcostemma) from La Yerba III; C) cotton (Gossypium sp.) yarn (DinoLite 50×), south Peru, Early Horizon; D) Apocynaceae yarn (DinoLite 50×), La Yerba III (Images: Author). Table 5.2. The technical process of plant fibre technology. Collection

Processing of fibres

Estuaries, wetlands, and riparian oases

Production of artefacts looped bags

Season of plant collection after – Summer rainfalls

cleaning – selection

Typhaceae Cyperaceae Apocynaceae

Decortication (Separation of fibres)

Gathered wild resources

The technological process begins with the collection of plant resources. Typhaceae, Cyperaceae, and Apocynaceae plant families grow into patches of vegetation circumscribed to scarce sources of water across the desert coast. Therefore, fibre artisans ‘congregated’ around these areas in order to collect the bast fibres. Coastal wetland, estuary, and riparian oasis flow regimes are dominated by peak run-off during summer precipitation in the highlands, with periods of reduced water inputs during the rest of the year (Houston 2006). Hence, it seems likely that after the summer rainfall was an appropriate time to collect plants from these ecosystems. The seasons of collection might have coincided with other activities such as food plant procurement since edible rhizomes of cf. Typha and cf. Scirpus were food resources of the early coastal

Bast fibres

fishing nets Splicing

mats cords

Threads

Plied yarns

communities (Towle 1961; Cohen 1978; Reinhard, Le Roy Toren, and Arriaza 2011). To extract the bast fibres, artisans broke the plant stalks into long strips. This process – decortication – is primarily to separate the epidermis from the inner plant tissues (Sadrmanesh and Chen 2019). The analysed samples show that fragments of epidermal tissue remained attached to the bast fibres, which indicates subtle alterations of the plant stems and leaves (Fig. 5.7.A). These data might be suggesting the absence of or at least only a limited retting process; however, experimental studies and an improved methodology for the study of bast fibre technologies may help clarify the process further. Additionally, it is plausible that during this process artisans used tools, such as notched flakes or shells, to harvest and strip fibres from the plant since some display

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notches possibly made by a sharp tool (Fig. 5.7.B) (Hurcombe 2008, 91). Some sharpened lithic and shell artefacts found at La Yerba sites might indicate their use in fibre processing (Fig. 5.8). Similarly, needles might have been used for looping and production of knotted structures.

The fibre and structural data indicate that the threads are all spliced regardless of the raw material (Table 5.3) (on splicing, see Gleba and Harris 2019). Figure 5.9 illustrates that both fluffy fibres of Apocynaceae (cf. Asclepias?) and the bundles of wetland bast fibres are

Fig. 5.7. A) micrograph of untwisted fibres of cf. Scirpus (epidermis and bast fibres), La Yerba II; B) micrograph of cut marks in bast fibre, La Yerba III (Images: Author).

Fig. 5.8. Specialised tools for fibre production: a) bone needles (possible net-making needles), La Yerba II Trench 1 SU 9522 and SU 9505; b) modified shell Choromytilus, La Yerba III Trench 1 SU 1005; c) obsidian flakes, La Yerba II UE 1004, UE 1007, UE 1010 and UE 1015 and La Yerba III UE 9505, UE 9511, UE 9546 and UE 9550 (images modified after Chauca 2019); d) wooden needle, La Yerba III Trench 1 SU 9523 (Images: Author).

5.  Bast fibre production from the southern coast of Peru: The case of the La Yerba II and III sites

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Table 5.3. Cordage of the La Yerba II and La Yerba III sites. Characteristics of cordage technology Description

Sites

Degree of the twist

Twist direction

Raw material

La Yerba II

loose

s

Schoenoplectus (Scirpus sp.?)

1

medium – hard

Z2*s

Schoenoplectus (Scirpus sp.?)

6

8

Yarn A.2 2-ply

–

S2*z

Schoenoplectus (Scirpus sp.?)

4

3

Yarn A.3 3-ply

medium

Z3*s

Schoenoplectus (Scirpus sp.?)

2

Yarn B.1 4-ply

medium

Z2s4*s

Schoenoplectus (Scirpus sp.?)

1

Yarn B.2 8-ply

–

S4z8*s

Schoenoplectus (Scirpus sp.?)

2

Yarn B.3 8-ply

–

Z4z8*s

Asclepias sp. (cf. Funastrum?)

1

Thread A.1 single yarn Yarn A.1 2-ply yarn

La Yerba III

Fig. 5.9. A) ‘Fluffy and white’ Sarcostemma bast fibres (DinoLite 50×); B) ‘stripped and brown’ cf. Scirpus fibres (DinoLite 50×) (Image: Author).

both spliced. Presumably, thicker spliced threads were used in mats and skirts, whilst finer spliced threads were used in bags and nets. In splicing technology, artisans used long strips of fibres and twisted them tightly together, which was a strenuous and highly time-demanding activity (Tiedemann and Jakes 2006). Splicing is a manual twisting technique, which does not require spinning equipment, and as such generates variation in the appearance of threads. Spliced bast fibre threads have different diameters and angles of twist. The diameter of the threads varies, with all threads displaying a diameter less than 1 mm. The final plying is proportionally 10 examples of S-direction and 18 examples of Z-direction (Fig. 5.10). Structural analysis reveals that La Yerba II and III assemblages include double-looped bags made of cf. Schoenoplectus (cf. Scirpus?), left-twined mats made

of cf. Typha, and knotted fishing nets made of Apocynaceae (cf. Asclepias) bast fibres (Fig. 5.11.A–D). I suggest that bast fibre production was an important component of the economic and social dimensions of coastal hunter-gatherer communities. Presumably, time and labour investments in collecting plants, processing the fibres, and manufacture of artefacts might have led to the formation of artisan social groups within coastal communities.

Function Coastal hunter-gatherers of the Middle Preceramic period at La Yerba II and III made use of wild-gathered plants to produce objects of material culture that served for transport, fishing, catching, and carrying. These objects range from simple string structures to more elaborate fabrics, such as mats, bags, and nets.

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Fig. 5.10. Plied threads from La Yerba II with minimal single thread twisting: a) S2*z yarn, La Yerba II, UE 9013, Unit (M6); b) Z2*s yarn, La Yerba II, UE 9756, Unit (M2) (Images: Author).

Fig. 5.11. Textile techniques: A) twining; B) looping; C) knotting; D) spliced yarn (Image: Author).

Strings or cords were an essential component of composite technologies with a broad spectrum of uses. They could be used in hafting, sewing, binding, or as string in line fishing. Bast fibre bags could have been used by mothers to carry their babies, which freed their hands to carry out

subsistence activities. Open weft twining mats were multipurpose artefacts. They were usually part of furnishings of habitation buildings and temporary structures, albeit they have been found mostly in burials (Benfer 1982; Dillehay et al. 2012; Beresford-Jones et al. 2018). On the other hand,

5.  Bast fibre production from the southern coast of Peru: The case of the La Yerba II and III sites double-looped bags used as containers might have facilitated gathering molluscs, plants, and other aquatic resources (e.g. edible plants and raw materials). Most importantly, such bags were used to transport land and marine resources to campsites or habitations. Finally, fibrous nets are ubiquitous representatives of marine subsistence activities (Moseley 1974; Moseley and Feldman 1988). The fishing net technology at La Yerba III relied upon bast fibres. During the Middle Preceramic period, nets used for catching ‘small schooling fish’ became particularly common and have been generally assumed to be made of cotton (Sandweiss 2009); however, this study presents conclusive evidence of the use of bast fibres for net construction.

Discussion Gathered wild resources for fibre production Collected wild plants from estuaries, wetlands, and riparian oases underpinned the plant fibre technology of coastal hunter-gatherers of southern Peru. These ‘ecotonally diverse’ areas provided sustainable, easily seen resources that could be harvested without requiring particular skills by all segments of society (Beresford-Jones et al. 2018). Plants of the aquatic Typhaceae, Cyperaceae, and dogbane Apocynacea families were seasonally abundant resources that furnished suitable fibres for craft work and, just as at other Preceramic sites, they were used to produce coastal hunter-gatherers’ objects of material culture (Weir and Dering 1986; Dillehay et al. 2012; Ugalde et al. 2021). Nonetheless, the supply of gathered wild plant bast fibres was not always reliable (Beresford-Jones et al. 2018, 417), since estuaries and wetlands were fragile ecosystems that could have been critically affected by over-exploitation. This factor might explain the transition from bast fibre nets to cotton nets in the Late Preceramic as cultivated cotton could be procured more reliably. Coastal hunter-gatherers were intimately aware of the plants from wetlands, estuaries, and riparian oases. The awareness of plant resources was reinforced through senses, memories, and traditional knowledge. Furthermore, these ecosystems might have been perceived as critical sources of plants for fibre production. Since we have evidence of on-site fibre processing (e.g. tools, raw materials, and balls of bast fibre threads and fibres) it is possible that fibre production may have occurred around wetlands, estuaries, and riparian oases and continued in the domestic areas or sites, indicating that craft production was part of the social dynamics of the Middle Preceramic hunter-gatherers of the south coast of Peru.

Fibre processing Plant fibre technology encompasses a time-consuming chaîne opératoire classified into three main stages: collection, processing, and manufacture.

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Plant collection would have required a well-established knowledge of the characteristics of plants best suited to obtain the required fibres. After gathering the plants, the fibres were processed manually through the cleaning of the stems and leaves. Unlike Old World bast fibres of nettle, hemp, or flax (Hardy 2008; Gleba and Harris 2019), it appears that the bast fibres of the Typhaceae, Cyperaceae, and Apocynaceae families found on the southern coast of Peru did not appear to require preparatory cooking or retting stages. However, this observation needs to be investigated further through experimental studies. Whilst preparatory stages such as retting help obtain fine fibres and ease processing, they also make the fibres more fragile and susceptible to losing their structure. Instead, non-retted raw materials retain glue-like pectins that bind the fibres together and prevent spliced threads from breaking, enabling them to resist manipulation and stress (Gleba and Harris 2019). This observation about bast fibre production means that artisans recognised the properties of the plants and used this knowledge to produce spliced threads. Once plants were hand cleaned and epidermal material was separated, bast fibres were used to produce spliced threads. Splicing is a technological process (sometimes called ‘thigh-spinning’) whereby fibres are twisted together without the use of a spindle necessary for spinning shorter yarns (Gleba and Harris 2019). In La Yerba II and III assemblages there is no evidence to date of spinning equipment. Spindle whorls were not part of the technological repertoire of the coastal hunter-gatherers, at least not until the advent of cotton and camelid fibres (Beresford-Jones et al. 2018). Just as in other ancient fabric technologies, e.g. in Egypt, the Mediterranean, and across Europe (Barber 1991; Gleba and Harris 2019), splicing was the first technology of thread production from bast fibre also in the New World. Ultimately, spliced and plied yarns were used to produce open weft twining, double-looped bags, and knotted nets (Fig. 5.11).

Bast fibre artefacts and coastal lifeways This study suggests that bast fibre fabrics were critical components of the technological repertoire of the Preceramic coastal hunter-gatherers. Cords had multiple uses, from hafting harpoons and providing lines for fish hooks, to being made into slings and nets. Mats were used in construction of habitations, as beds and rugs or even as ‘windbreaks’ in sporadic sites along the coast. Looped bags were arguably used to gather molluscs in shallow water and to collect plants from coastal habitats (e.g. estuaries and fog oases). Most importantly, these artefacts served to transport resources to habitations or elsewhere. Looped bags are typically found in Chinchorro cemetery contexts in northern Chile (Standen 2003) and are still used nowadays. Modern fishermen use these artefacts – known as chinguillos – in underwater diving to collect shells and other marine resources.

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Finally, bast fibre nets were used to fish small fish, as demonstrated by La Yerba’s ichthyological record (Beresford-Jones et al. 2018). These fibres appear to have been sufficiently strong to withstand daily immersion in seawater and the stresses associated with fishing. This study demonstrates that bast fibres – rather than cotton – were used to produce nets for net fishing. These results call for new interpretations of maritime subsistence and fibre technologies of the coastal populations on the south coast of Peru. The production of cotton nets is just the culmination of a long developmental trajectory of sophisticated fabric technologies. Prior to cotton domestication, bast fibres were the primary raw materials that underpinned maritime subsistence (Beresford-Jones et al. 2018).

Final comments This research has taken the initial steps towards understanding the production of bast fibres of the Middle Preceramic period on the south coast of Peru. Undoubtedly, the La Yerba II and III assemblages offer a unique opportunity to investigate this still poorly understood facet of ancient South American coastal hunter-gatherer culture. The archaeobotanical and structural data collected indicate that fibre production played an important role in the economic and social life of coastal hunter-gatherer groups. Gathered wild resources were a critical aspect of this technology. The gathering of wild monocot and dicot plants in estuaries, wetlands, and riparian oases required specialised knowledge of the local plantscape, albeit these wild plant resources could be easily over-exploited by humans. This study also suggests that plant-fibre technologies were critical components of the coastal hunter-gatherers’ technological repertoire (Beresford-Jones et al. 2018; Martens and Cameron 2019). Most notably, wild plant resources supported long-lasting bast fibre production, which in turn underpinned maritime subsistence during the Middle Preceramic on the south coast of Peru. I envisage the production of plant fibre artefacts as a ‘dance’ across the Pacific littoral. Here the fundamental assumption is that the technical activities, such as plant collection, thread making, and manufacture of artefacts created a set of choreographic movements along the coast. The rhythm of the seasons and the ecology of the estuaries, wetlands, and riparian oases dictated the itinerary of the artisans’ movements. As a consequence, the temporality and spatial dimensions of the plant fibre technology merged with marine foraging activities, which turned the Pacific littoral into a social, ecological, and technological landscape of animate actions.

Acknowledgements I would like to thank David Beresford-Jones for giving me access to the bast fibre materials of the La Yerba II and La

Yerba III sites (One River Project - Leverhulme Trust, grant number RPG-117), and the Department of Archaeology of the University of Cambridge for facilitating the equipment for the analyses. Thanks the reviewers and editors of this book who with their insightful comments helped improve this chapter. This work was funded by the National Agency for Research and Development (ANID) / Scholarship Program / DOCTORADO BECAS CHILE/2017.

Note 1

Here and elsewhere, cf. expresses a possible identity, or at least a significant resemblance, between a newly observed specimen and the known genus or species.

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5.  Bast fibre production from the southern coast of Peru: The case of the La Yerba II and III sites hunter-gatherer mobility on the Peruvian southern coast from mollusc gathering seasonality. Journal of Archaeological Science 36, 1173–8. Chauca, G. (2019) El aleph Volcanico de la costa sur del Peru: Estudio de la obsidiana Preceramica de la Boca del Rio Ica (Masters Dissertation, Pontifical Catholic University of Peru). Chauca, G. and Beresford-Jones, D. (2016) Informe de los Trabajos Realizados en La Yerba III, Boca del Río Ica durante la Temporada 2015, 89. Peru, Ministerio de Cultura Lima. Cohen, M. (1978) Archaeological plant remains from the central coast of Peru. Ñawpa Pacha: Journal of Andean Archaeology 16, 23–50. Damp, J. and Pearsall, D. (1994) Early cotton from coastal Ecuador. Economic Botany 48, 163–5. De France, S. (2009) Quebrada Tacahuay and Early Maritime foundations on Peru’s far southern coast. In J. Marcus and P.R. Williams (eds), Andean Civilization: A Tribute to Michael E. Moseley, 55–74. Los Angeles, Cotsen Institute of Archaeology, University of California. Dillehay, T., Rossen, J., Andres, T. and Williams, D. (2007) Preceramic adoption of peanut, squash and cotton in northern Peru. Science 316, 1890–3. Dillehay, T., Bonavia, D., Goodbred, S., Pino, M., Vasquez, V. and Rosales, T. (2012) A late Pleistocene human presence at Huaca Prieta, Peru, and early Pacific Coastal adaptations. Quaternary Research 77, 418–23. Dillehay, T., Goodbred, S., Pino, M., Vasquez, V., Rosales, T., Adovasio, J., Collins, M., Netherly, P., Hastorf, C., Chiou, K., Piperno, D., Rey, I. and Velchoff, N. (2017) Simple technologies and diverse food strategies of the Late Pleistocene and Early Holocene at Huaca Prieta, coastal Peru. Science Advances 3 (5), e1602778. Emery, I. (1966) The Primary Structures of Fabrics. 4th ed. London, Thames and Hudson. Engel, F. (1963) A Preceramic settlement on the central coast of Peru: Asia, Unit -1. Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, New Series 53 (3), 1–139. Engel, F. (1991) Un Desierto en Tiempos Prehispánicos. Lima, La Universidad Nacional Agraria Del Perú. Gleba, M. and Harris, S. (2019) The first plant bast fibre technology: Identifying splicing in archaeological textiles. Archaeological and Anthropological Science 11, 2329–46. Haas, J. and Creamer, W. (2006) Crucible of Andean civilisation: The Peruvian coast from 3000 to 1800 BC. Current Anthropology 47, 745–75. Hardy, K. (2008) Prehistoric string theory. How twisted fibres helped to shape the world. Antiquity 82, 271–80. Houston, J. (2006) Variability of precipitation in the Atacama Desert: Its causes and hydrological impact. International Journal of Climatology 26, 2181–98. Hurcombe, L. (2008) Organics from inorganics: Using experimental archaeology as a research tool for studying perishable material culture. World Archaeology 40, 83–115. Keefer, D., De France, D., Moseley, M., Richardson III, J., Satterlee, D. and Day-Lewis, A. (1998) Early maritime economy and El Niño events at Quebrada Tacahuay, Peru. Science 281, 1833–5.

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Lavalle, D. and Julien, M. (2013) Prehistoria de la costa del extremo-sur del Peru: Los pescadores arcaicos de la Quebrada de los Burros (10000–7000 a. P.). Lima, Instituto Francés de Estudios Andinos, Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú. Leon, B. and Young, K. (1996) Aquatic plants of Peru: Diversity, distribution and conservation. Biodiversity and Conservation 5, 1169–90. Martens, T. and Cameron, J. (2019) Early coastal fiber technology from Caleta Vitor archaeological complex in northern Chile. Latin American Antiquity 30 (2), 287–99. Moerman, D. (1998) Native American Ethnobotany (Vol. 879). Portland, OR, Timber Press. Moseley, M. (1974) The Maritime Foundations of Andean Civilisation. Menlo Park, Cummings Publishing Company. Moseley, M. (1992) Maritime foundations and multilinear evolution: retrospect and prospect. Andean Past 3, 5–42. Moseley, M. and Feldman, R. (1988) Fishing, farming, and the foundations of Andean civilisation. In G. Bailey and J. Parkington (eds), The Archaeology of Prehistoric Coastlines, 125–34. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Nicholas, G. (1998) Wetlands and hunter-gatherers: A global perspective. Current Anthropology 39 (5), 720–31. Patterson, R., Lowe, B. and Smith, C. (2017) Polarized Light Microscopy: An old technique casts new light on Maori textile plants. Archaeometry 59 (5), 965–79. Patterson, T. and Moseley, M. (1968) Late Preceramic and early ceramic cultures of the central coast of Peru. Ñawpa Pacha: Journal of Andean Archaeology 6, 115–33. Pearsall, D. (2008) Plant domestication and the shift to agriculture in the Andes. In H. Silverman and W.H. Isbell (eds), Handbook of South American Archaeology, 105–20. New York, Springer. Piperno, D. (2011) Northern Peruvian Early and Middle Preceramic agriculture in Central and South American contexts. In T.D. Dillehay (ed.), From Foraging to Farming in the Andes: New Perspectives on Food Production and Social Organisation, 275–84. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Prieto, G. and Sandweiss, D. (eds) (2020) Maritime Communities of the Ancient Andes. Gainesville, University Press of Florida. Quilter, J. (1989) Life and Death at Paloma: Society and Mortuary Practices in a Preceramic Peruvian Village. Iowa City, University of Iowa Press. Quilter, J. and Stocker, T. (1983) Subsistence economies and the origins of Andean complex societies. American Anthropologist 85 (3), 545–62. Reinhard, K., Le Roy Toren, S. and Arriaza, B. (2011) Where have all the plant foods gone? The search for refined dietary reconstruction from Chinchorro mummies. Yearbook of Mummy Studies 1, 139–51. Reitz, E. (2001) Fishing in Peru between 10,000 and 3750 BP. International Journal of Osteoarchaeology 11, 163–71. Sadrmanesh, V. and Chen, Y. (2019) Bast fibres: Structure, processing properties and applications. International Material Reviews 64 (7), 381–406. Sandweiss, D. (2003) Terminal Pleistocene through Mid-Holocene archaeological sites as paleoclimatic archives for the Peruvian coast. Palaeogeography Palaeoclimatology Palaeoecology 194 (1), 23–4.

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Sandweiss, D. (2009) Early fishing and inland monuments: Challenging the maritime foundations of the Andean civilisation? In J. Marcus and P. Williams (eds), Andean Civilization. A Tribute to Michael Moseley, 39–54. Los Angeles, Cotsen Institute of Archaeology, University of California. Sandweiss, D., McInnis, H., Burger, R., Cano, A., Ojeda, B., Paredes, R., del Carmen Sandweiss, M. and Glascock, M.D. (1998) Quebrada jaguay: Early South American maritime adaptations. Science 281 (5384), 1830–2. Splitstoser, J., Dillehay, T., Wouters, J. and Claro, A. (2016) Early pre-Hispanic use of indigo blue in Peru. Science Advances 2 (9), e1501623. Standen, V. (2003) Bienes funerarios del Cementerio Chinchorro Morro 1: Descripcion, analisis e interpretation. Chungara 35 (2), 175–207. Tiedemann, E. and Jakes, K. (2006) An exploration of prehistoric spinning technology: Spinning efficiency and technology transition. Archaeometry 48 (2), 293–307.

Towle, M. (1961) The Ethnobotany of Pre-Columbian Peru. Chicago, Aldine. Ugalde, P., McRostie, V., Gayo, E., Garcia, M., Latorre, C. and Santoro, C. (2021) 13,000 years of sociocultural plant use in the Atacama Desert of northern Chile. Vegetation History and Archaeobotany 30 (2), 213–30. Weir, G. and Dering, J. (1986) The Lomas of Paloma: Humanenvironment relations in a central Peruvian fog oasis: Archaeobotany and palynology. In M.R. Matos., S.A. Turpin and H.H. Eling (eds), Monographs in Archaeology No. 27: Andean Archaeology, 18–44. Los Angeles, Institute of Archaeology, University of California. Whaley, O., Orellana, A. and Pecho-Quispe, O. (2019) An annotated checklist to vascular flora of the Ica Region, Peru – with notes on endemic species, habitat, climate and agrobiodiversity. Phytotaza 389 (1), 1–125. Whiting, G. (1943) A Summary of the Literature on Milkweeds (Asclepias spp.) and Their Utilisation. Washington DC, United States Department of Agriculture.

6 Humans, wool textiles, chronology, and provenance: A case study from the Orenburg region in the southern Urals, Russia Natalia Shishlina, Olga Orfinskaya, Daria Kiseleva, Anna Mamonova, Lidiya Kuptsova, and Tomasz Goslar

Background The Bronze Age of northern Eurasia was characterised by rapid socio-economic changes mediated by technological innovation. A secondary products revolution was accompanied by implementation of new technologies for new products and their consumption (Sherratt 1997). Along with the wheel and the plough, the developments that defined the overall trajectory of global economic transformations of that time also included the spread of wool fibre, textile, and garment production. Introduction of wool in prehistoric societies has been studied by many scholars (Barber 1991; Frangipane et al. 2009; Gleba and Mannering 2012; Bender Jørgensen 2015; Becker et al. 2016; Azemard et al. 2019; Sabatini and Bergerbrant 2020; Schier and Pollock 2020). The newly excavated wool textile samples from Eurasian Russia and those re-investigated in old museum collections provide a better understanding of the evolution of wool textile production development. This paper examines a range of Bronze Age wool textile samples uncovered in the Srubnaya or Timber-Grave culture (nineteenth–fifteenth centuries BC) burials excavated in the Orenburg region in the southern Urals and presents their

direct 14C AMS dates. A pilot study of the relative provenance of the animal fibre textiles was also conducted by analysing the strontium isotope composition of four textile samples. Our aim was to trace the geographical mobility of wool-bearing animals, thereby determining the geographical provenance of the wool used for making garments. By assessing variations in the 87Sr/86Sr ratios in tooth enamel of individuals from the four burial grounds where wool textiles were found, we also attempted to determine the level of human mobility within a rather small area of the Tok and Ural interfluve. Then we compared the data from the wool textiles with the human residential mobility. This enabled a better understanding of local wool production.

Archaeological contexts Textile fragments were retrieved from burials attributed to the Srubnaya (nineteenth–fifteenth centuries cal BC) and Alakul (seventeenth–fifteenth centuries cal BC) cultures of the Late Bronze Age (Table 6.1). The burial grounds are located in the Tok and Ural interfluve (Fig. 6.1). All the burials were found in kurgans.

Table 6.1. Context summary of wool textile finds. ND: Not Determined. Site

Kurgan Burial Sex

Kamenka

1

Bogolyubovka Bogolyubovka

Age

Textile function Face accessory

2

f

45–50

8

2

f

40–5

Headwear

1

31

f

ND

Cloth fragment

Pleshanovo II

2

2

Gerasimovka III

1

3

ND

ND

Headwear

Gerasimovka I

11

2

ND

child

Thread

ND neonatal f

25–30

Sleeves?

ND neonatal

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Natalia Shishlina, Olga Orfinskaya, Daria Kiseleva, Anna Mamonova, Lidiya Kuptsova, and Tomasz Goslar

Fig. 6.1. Orenburg region, location of the kurgan burial grounds: 1) Gerasimovka I; 2) Gerasimovka III; 3) Kamenka; 4) Bogolyubovka; 5) Pleshanovo II; 6) Mount Berezovaya (Image: Authors).

Srubnaya burials The Kamenka burial ground is located on the watershed of the Bolshoy Uran and the Maly Uran rivers. Burial 1, Kurgan 2, was a rectangular pit; it contained a 45–50-yearold woman lying in a contracted position on the left side at the bottom of the pit, with the head facing north-north-east and the hands placed over the face (Fig. 6.2.3). The skull, the jawbone, and the upper part of the chest were covered by a cloth band, decorated with faience and bronze beads, as well as flat round bronze plates with an incised decoration, which were sewn onto the band. Funerary offerings included a bronze knife, a rib of a young horse, and bronze temporal pendants. The Bogolyubovka burial ground is located on the first terrace above the flood-plain of the Bolshoy Uran. Burial 8, Kurgan 2, was made in a pit overlapped by the kurgan. The skeleton of a 40–45-year-old individual lying in a supine contracted position with contracted legs turned to the right and with the head facing south-east (Fig. 6.2.5) was excavated. The arms with bent elbows were lying on the pelvis. The head of the skeleton faced south-west. A fragment of a cloth was found on the skeleton. Burial 31, Kurgan 1, of the Bogolyubovka burial ground is a quadrangular pit roofed with slabs and stones. A skeleton of an adult woman was lying in a contracted position on the left side, with hands placed near her face. A skeleton of a baby was lying in a supine extended position behind the female skeleton. Beads were found close to the cervical vertebrae of the woman, while a bronze temporal pendant and organic dust were present on the jawbone; the second bronze pendant was found under the skull. Two clay vessels were also discovered in the burial. The remains of a cloth were preserved attached to the bronze pendant.

The Pleshanovo II burial ground is located on the first terrace above the flood-plain on the left bank of the Tok River. Burial 2, Kurgan 2, was in a rectangular pit roofed with stone slabs. A skeleton of a 25–30-year-old woman lying in a contracted position on the left side at the bottom of the pit was found inside; the head faced north, the hands were placed over the face (Fig. 6.2.4). Remains of a baby skeleton in a contracted position on the right side were lying between the leg bones of the woman, with the head facing south and the hands placed in front of the face. Bronze grooved bracelets as well as fragments of wool cloth and leather were preserved on the woman’s wrists; a bronze bracelet covered with gold foil was found near her fingers. A hand-made clay vessel was found on the bones of the forearm. The Gerasimovka III burial ground is located on the edge of a high right bank terrace of the Kindelya River. Burial 3, Kurgan 1, was in a quadrangular pit containing a human skeleton in a contracted position lying on the left side at the bottom of the pit with the head facing east-north-east (Fig. 6.2.1). The arms were bent, with the hands lying near the face. A bronze pendant was found under the lower jawbone, with a fragment of cloth with sewn-on beads lying near the pendant; a clay jar vessel without any ornamentation stood near the head, while sheep teeth were found on the backbone.

Alakul burial The Gerasimovka I burial ground is located on the left bank of the Kindelya River. Burial 2, Kurgan 11, was made in a rectangular pit, at the bottom of which the skeleton of a child was lying in a contracted position on the left side, with the head facing north-east (Fig. 6.2.2). Two long horse pastern bones, a ram shoulder blade, and astragali were

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Fig. 6.2. Burials containing wool textile fragments: 1) Gerasimovka III 1/3; 2) Gerasimovka I 11/2; 3) Kamenka 2/1; 4) Pleshanovo II 2/2; 5) Bogolyubovka 2/8 (Image: Authors).

lying in front of the chest, and two hand-made vessels of the Alakul type were found behind the skull; bronze tubular beads were discovered near the legs and behind the back; and a small fragment of yarn was preserved inside one of the beads.

Results and discussion of the analyses Fibre identification and structural textile analysis The nature of the fibres was identified based on their morphological characteristics. Microsamples were selected with minimum damage to the material to be examined. Samples were selected and prepared and metric measurements were made with a Hund Wiloskop stereo-zoom-microscope in reflected light with a magnification range from 6.7× to 45×, a MBS stereomicroscope with 40× magnification, and a

Stemi 2000-CS stereomicroscope with 100× magnification. The samples were examined using transmitted polarised and non-polarised light microscopy using an Olympus ВХ51 polarised light microscope with a magnification range from 40–600×, as well as transmitted polarised light microscopy using a Laborlux 12pol microscope with 100–400× magnification. A permanent immersion specimen was prepared in balsam of fir tree (Canada balsam). The specimens were compared with a fibre reference collection. The colour of the fibres was determined visually during microscopy. Wool was the primary raw material used in these items. In the textile from Kamenka, Kurgan 2, Burial 1, it was possible to determine that fine underwool was used to make the yarns. In addition to the wool, other materials such as wood, leather, possible fur, beads, and bronze jewellery were used to make the multi-layered items.

Bogolyubovka, cloth fragments kurgan 1, burial 31

Pleshanovo, kurgan 2, burial 2

Gerasimovka III, kurgan 1, burial 3

Gerasimovka III, kurgan 1, burial 3

4

5

6

7

cloth

wide band

cloth

band

Kamenka, kurgan 2, burial 1

3

brown/black/ red

brown

brown

pale brown colour with a yellowish tint

dark brown

tabby

diagonal-twill plaiting

tabby

tabby

diagonal-twill plaiting

tabby

dark brown

dark-colored cloth (part of the multi-layered cloth)

Kamenka, kurgan 2, burial 1

2

tabby

light brown

light-colored cloth (part of the multi-layered cloth)

Kamenka, kurgan 2, burial 1

1

Type of weave

Colour

Textile description

Site

Sample No.

–

0.8–0.9

–

–

Thread thickness (mm)

0.6–1.0

1

0.7–0.9

0.4–0.9

–

0.7–0.9

0.8–1.0

Thickness of the warp threads (mm)

0.6–1.0

1

0.7–0.9

0.4–0.9

–

0.7–0.9

0.6–0/8

Thickness of the weft threads (mm)

Table 6.2. Technological parameters of wool textiles

10

10

21

–

11

9

Thread count, warp (per cm)

10

12

8

10

9

7

Thread count, weft (per cm)

S2z

S2z

–

–

S2z

–

Ply

z/s/z/s

z

z/s/z/s

s/z

z/s/z/s

z

Spin warp

zz/ss/ zz/ss

z

zz/ss/ zz/ss

s/z

zz/ss/ zz/ss

z

Spin weft

72 Natalia Shishlina, Olga Orfinskaya, Daria Kiseleva, Anna Mamonova, Lidiya Kuptsova, and Tomasz Goslar

6.  Humans, wool textiles, chronology, and provenance Textiles were analysed using the established methodology (Table 6.2) and include the following: Kamenka, Kurgan 2, Burial 1, parts of a face accessory: a multi-layered cloth and a braid fragment. The multi-layered cloth consists of two fragments of a light brown cloth and a dark brown cloth respectively, sewn together (Fig. 6.3). It is assumed that the light-coloured cloth was stitched in the section made up of three layers (Fig. 6.4). A fragment of the plaited braid 0.35 cm wide (Fig. 6.5) is part of the face accessory. Bogolyubovka, Kurgan 2, Burial 8: two areas of the soil contained impressions of cloth and its minute fragments (Fig. 6.6; Table 6.2). The preservation of the fibres is poor but structural analysis demonstrated that the cloth was a fine tabby weave. Bogolyubovka, Kurgan 1, Burial 31: three cloth fragments covered with products of metal corrosion of blue-greenish colour. Two fragments turned out to be a composite mass of intermixed cloth, a fibrous layer,

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and wood remains. The cloth fragments are all similar in structure. They are tabby woven from wool fibres of pale brown colour with a yellowish tint (Fig. 6.7; Table 6.2). A relatively thick layer of the fibres found between the cloth and the wood remains is visible in the two multi-layered fragments (Figs 6.8–9). Polarised light microscopy revealed that these were wool fibres (Fig. 6.8.3). The diameter of the fibres is not uniform, ranging from 7–72 μm. The appearance, structure, and nature of the fibres suggest that these are sheep fleece remains. An in-depth examination showed a thin layer between the cloth and the fibres. When magnified, it looked like a ribbed surface. The sample selected from this layer (Fig. 6.9.2) consisted almost entirely of the segments with a well-defined structure, which structurally resemble the thickest sections of the hairs from the fibrous layer of the other fragment (Fig. 6.8.3) containing fine wool fibres. It is assumed that these are compacted thick wool fibres from the fur (?) layer attached to the cloth.

Fig. 6.3. Kamenka, Kurgan 2, Burial 1. Multi-layered textile fragment: 1) general view and schematic drawing: 1) light-coloured cloth; 1a) second layer of the light-coloured cloth after it was folded back; 1b) third layer of the dark-coloured cloth; 2) dark-coloured cloth; 2) side view and schematic drawing of the fragment: A) microphotography; B) schematic drawing of the layer positioning in the sample: 1) light-coloured cloth, 2) dark-coloured cloth; a) section where two cloth pieces are pressed together; b) section where three layers of the light-coloured cloth and a layer of the dark-coloured cloth are pressed together; c) section where the light-coloured cloth is folded back; d) third layer of the light-coloured cloth; *) place where, most likely, two dark-coloured cloth pieces were joined together with a seam (Image: Authors).

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Natalia Shishlina, Olga Orfinskaya, Daria Kiseleva, Anna Mamonova, Lidiya Kuptsova, and Tomasz Goslar

Fig. 6.4. Kamenka, Kurgan 2, Burial 1. Multi-layered textile fragment: 1) dark-coloured cloth; A) general view of the fragment; B) schematic drawing of textile weave; 2) bright field microphotographs of wool fibres: A) wool fibres from the yarn of sample 42.1; B) wool fibres from the yarn (Image: Authors).

Fig. 6.5. Kamenka, Kurgan 2, Burial 1. Band: 1) general view; 2) schematic drawing of the weave (Image: Authors).

6.  Humans, wool textiles, chronology, and provenance

75

Fig. 6.6. Bogolyubovka, Kurgan 2, Burial 8: 1–2) general view of two fragments; 3) schematic drawing of the textile weaves; 4) microphotographs of the wool fibres with various degrees of preservation (Image: Authors).

Fig. 6.7. Bogolyubovka, Kurgan 1, Burial 31: 1) general view of the cloth fragment; 2) schematic drawing of the textile weave; 3) microphotographs of the wool fibres (Image: Authors).

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Natalia Shishlina, Olga Orfinskaya, Daria Kiseleva, Anna Mamonova, Lidiya Kuptsova, and Tomasz Goslar

Fig. 6.8. Bogolyubovka, Kurgan 1, Burial 31: 1) general view of the multi-layered fragment 1; 2) positioning of the layers; 3) microphotographs of the wool fibres (Image: Authors).

Fig. 6.9. Bogolyubovka, Kurgan 1, Burial 31: 1) general view of the multi-layered fragment 2; 2) microphotographs of the wool fibres (Image: Authors).

6.  Humans, wool textiles, chronology, and provenance Pleshanovo Kurgan 2, Burial 2: a textile fragment (Fig. 6.10; Table 6.2) made of brown threads, with a non-uniform twist angle, ranging from high to loose. Gerasimovka III, Kurgan 1, Burial 3: the textile fragments of the headdress include a wide band decorated with metal beads and a tabby cloth fragment (Fig. 6.11; Table 6.2). The tabby weave cloth is brown. One side of the cloth reveals sections that appear to have been pressed down by some hard objects such as plates. The cloth between such hypothetical plates rises like a ridge (Fig. 6.12.1). There are remains of red threads and another layer of the dark brown cloth on the reverse side of the cloth. The red-coloured threads are threads of the band. Gerasimovka I, Kurgan 11, Burial 2: fine wool thread was preserved inside a bronze bead. However, the characteristics of the thread are not identifiable. The textiles, threads, and the braided band display similar general technological characteristics. All the yarns are spun. The thickness of the warp and the weft threads in various textile fragments is not uniform, ranging from 0.4–1 mm. Both z- and s-twisted yarns are used. In fact, one of the distinctive features of the analysed cloth fragments is the use of alternating s-twisted and z-twisted yarns, with a sequence of z/s/z/s in the warp and of zz/ss/zz/ss in the weft (the so-called shadow or spin pattern). Moreover, as the weavers used threads with varying twist angle (from loosely to tightly twisted) as well as threads of different thicknesses,

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the cloth they produced has a distinctive surface texture with a crinkled appearance (‘crêpe effect’). All textiles are woven in a tabby weave with differing thread counts, while the plaited band is produced in a twill weave. It is plausible that some elements were dyed, such as the red threads from Gerasimovka III, Kurgan 1, Burial 3. In general, it may be noted that textile production was quite advanced. The weavers used various technologies, including dyeing, as well as different weave structures, including tabby weave and twill plaiting. The relatively high level of craftsmanship is also apparent in the textiles’ textured, crinkled appearance and their combination with other materials such as leather, fur, wood, and metal elements that were used to adorn the clothes.

Radiocarbon dating Five samples of the wool textiles were dated at the Poznan University and at the Centre for Isotope Research, University of Groningen (Fig. 6.13; Table 6.3). The new Srubnaya Culture 14C dataset was compared with the previously published dates for the wool textiles attributed to the Srubnaya and Alakul cultures from the Volga and the Ural regions (Shishlina et al. 2020). The radiocarbon data obtained were calibrated using the OxCal 4.3 program (Bronk Ramsey 2009), and the IntCal13 calibration curve (Reimer et al. 2013).

Fig. 6.10. Pleshanovo, Kurgan 2, Burial 2: 1) general view of the fragment; 2) schematic drawing of the weaves; 3) microphotographs of the wool fibres (Image: Authors).

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Natalia Shishlina, Olga Orfinskaya, Daria Kiseleva, Anna Mamonova, Lidiya Kuptsova, and Tomasz Goslar

Fig. 6.11. Gerasimovka III, Kurgan 1, Burial 3: 1) general view of the band fragment; 2) schematic drawing of the weave; 3) microphotograph of the wool fibres (Image: Authors).

Fig. 6.12. Gerasimovka III, Kurgan 1, Burial 3: 1) general view of the cloth fragment, sample 1; 2) microphotograph of the cloth, sample 1; 3) microphotographs of the wool fibres: А) sample 1; B) sample 2; 4) schematic drawing of the cloth weaves, sample 1 (Image: Authors).

6.  Humans, wool textiles, chronology, and provenance

79

Fig 6.13. Results of 14С AMS dating of wool textiles (Image: Authors). Table 6.3. 14C AMS-data of the wool textiles, Middle Volga, southern Urals, Srubnaya culture C age (BP)

Calibrated range (BC) (unmodelled)

δ13C (‰) VPDB

δ15N (‰) AIR

Gerasimovka III, Kurgan 1, Burial 3 textile

3400±20

68.2% probability 1738 (32.5%) 1714 1697 (35.7%) 1665 95.4% probability 1746 (95.4%) 1640

-23.8

8.9

IGANams-7216

Gerasimovka III, Kurgan 1, Burial 3 textile

3355±20

68.2% probability 1681 (5.6%) 1676 1665 (62.6%) 1622 95.4% probability 1734 (2.9%) 1718 1694 (92.5%) 1611

-23.0

9.0

Poz-122360

Pleshanovo, Kurgan 2, Burial 2 textile

3415±30

68.2% probability 1749 (62.4%) 1681 1675 (5.8%) 1665 95.4% probability 1870 (4.1%) 1846 1775 (91.3%) 1629

-23.5

3.6

Poz-122361

Kamenka, Kurgan 2, Burial 1 textile

3415±30

68.2% probability 1749 (62.4%) 1681 1675 (5.8%) 1665 95.4% probability 1870 (4.1%) 1846 1775 (91.3%) 1629

-24.2

3.4

Lab No.

Sample

GrM-15221

14

All textiles associated with the Srubnaya (nineteenth– fifteenth centuries BC) and Alakul (seventeenth–fifteenth centuries BC) burials from the Middle Volga, the Urals, and Kazakhstan are dated between 1900–1600 cal BC (Table 6.3). The earliest dates fall within the range of 1900–1800 cal BC, suggesting that wool textiles quickly spread from the

Early Srubnaya forest-steppe and steppe belts in the Volga region to the Srubnaya and Alakul cultures of the TransUrals and Kazakhstan. The dates for the wool originating in the Srubnaya burials discovered in the Orenburg steppes are somewhat later, falling within a narrow time span of 1750–1650 cal BC, which reflects the distribution pattern

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of the wool fibre production technology in the Trans-Urals steppe belt.

Strontium isotopic tracing The variations in 87Sr/86Sr ratios in archaeological and modern objects are used to determine the place of birth of humans and animals (Ericson 1985; Bentley and Knipper 2005; Bentley 2006). This method has also been applied to the studies of the strontium isotope composition of archaeological textiles (Frei et al. 2009, 2015, 2017; Frei 2014, 2019; Shishlina et al. 2019; Kiseleva et al. 2021; Ryan et al. 2021). The study of the strontium isotope composition of contemporary sheep fleece and archaeological wool textiles of the Bronze and Early Iron Age and the Middle Ages from Scandinavia demonstrated that the 87Sr/86Sr ratios in animal (sheep and Greenlandic musk ox) wool fibre corresponded to bioavailable strontium in grazing lands (Frei et al. 2009, 2014). The pilot study of the strontium isotope composition of modern sheep fleece from the southern steppe region of eastern Europe also indicated that the 87Sr/86Sr ratios in local sheep fleece is correlated with local bioavailable 87Sr/86Sr signatures of the pastures (Kiseleva et al. 2021). Sr isotope values of cotton textile from Arabia (cal AD 127–224) demonstrated more radiogenic values than the local region’s strontium isotope composition and were considered to be non-local (Ryan et al. 2021). It is worth noting that there is an ongoing debate among scholars concerning the applicability of 87Sr/86Sr for the identification of the possible provenance of wool textiles (von Holstein et al. 2015). Furthermore, the Sr baseline used in the study of the Scandinavian textiles (Frei et al. 2015) was affected by agricultural lime fertilisers, manure, animal feed, and pesticides. Revised local strontium maps changed the interpretation of local/non-local origin of wool textiles (Thomsen and Andreasen 2019). In order to avoid the possible contamination of the wool samples, we used the following procedure: preliminary cleaning of wool textiles from external contaminants and silicate minerals was performed according to the protocol proposed by Frei et al. (2009) using 20% (v/v) HF and an ultrasonic bath. In the later works by Frei et al. (2015) and Frei (2014, 2019), an improved pre-cleaning/decontamination protocol was introduced including the preliminary stage of carbonate particle dissolution by 1M HCl and a final step of oxidation by 0.2M (NH4)2S2O8 ammonium peroxodisulfate (in cases of dyed textiles). In the absence of credible information about the use of organic dyes in the studied textile samples, we tried to keep the cross-contamination and procedural blanks as low as possible by minimising the number of reagents used. Furthermore, the relatively low carbonate content in the rocks of the studied area (primarily sandstones) might have resulted in a relatively small proportion of contaminating carbonate particles present in

ancient textiles, which could be effectively removed by centrifugation and filtration after their precipitation in the form of calcium fluoride (CaF2). Strontium isotope ratios in human enamel and dentin and modern cattle (Bos taurus) rump bone were analysed according to the protocol by Kasyanova et al. (2019). Sr isotope ratios for grass were obtained after being ashed using the protocol proposed by Snoeck et al. (2020). The soil leachates were obtained by shaking 1 g of soil in 10 ml ultrapure water (Maurer et al. 2012, 218). Sample preparation and Sr isotope measurements were carried out at the Institute of Geology and Geochemistry (Geoanalitik Collective Use Centre), the Urals branch of the Russian Academy of Sciences, in Ekaterinburg. The variations in the 87Sr/86Sr ratios were determined for four wool textile fragments retrieved from the Pleshanovo, Kamenka, Bogolyubovka, and Gerasimovka burial grounds (Fig. 6.14) and for the tooth enamel of the Srubnaya individuals from Pleshanovo, Kamenka, and Bogolyubovka. Since our isotopic study was a pilot, we tried to use as many proxies as possible to characterise the four archaeological sites, river water, wetland vegetation, and molluscs, including water-soluble or labile Sr fraction of soil leachates. Three soil leachates from Pleshanovo, Bogolyubovka, and Kamenka have close 87Sr/86Sr ratios (0.7084–0.7085), probably due to the mixing of strontium from two major sources: the weathering of the underlying rock and atmospheric input (precipitation and dust) (Hajj et al. 2017). Since Sr from atmospheric precipitation is deposited on the soil surface, and soil weathering releases Sr from deep horizons (Hajj et al. 2017), similar strontium isotope ratios in leachates of the surface soil layers are more likely due to the predominant influence of atmospheric input rather than by the weathering processes of the underlying Middle Permian rocks of the Tatarian Stage. In general, the Sr isotope ratios in soil leachates are shifted from the corresponding grasses (0.7091–0.7098) towards less radiogenic values. An additional study of Sr isotope ratios in atmospheric precipitation, underlying rocks, and groundwater is required; however, the soil leachates fall within the local baseline of bioavailable strontium for the studied sites. All four localities are characterised by a wide range of 87 Sr/86Sr in the samples, reflecting a complex system of interactions between water and rocks, vegetation and animals. The Orenburg region in the southern Urals is located at the border of two large structural and tectonic zones, the East European Craton and the Urals Orogeny. The Craton includes the Volgo-Uralia crustal segment, the Caspian Depression, and the Pre-Urals foreland basin. The burial grounds where wool textile fragments have been found are located in the interfluves of the Tok and Samar rivers and the Salmysh and the Ural rivers in the south-eastern slope of the East European Craton.

6.  Humans, wool textiles, chronology, and provenance

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Fig. 6.14. 87Sr/86Sr ratios in archaeological wool textiles and bioavailable strontium background samples of grass and modern fauna (Image: Authors).

Clays, sands, and Quaternary gravel are abundant along the valleys of these rivers. Argillites, aleurolits, sandstones, conglomerates, limestones, dolomitic rocks, gypsum, anhydrites, rock salts, and potassium salts of the Paleozoic group as well as clay slates, aleurolits, sandstones, and conglomerates of the Triassic system have been found in the Bolshoy Uran and Tok interfluve where the Bogolyubovka, Pleshanovo, and Kamenka burial grounds are located. Sands, sandstones, clays, marls, phosphorites, oil-shale, and lignite of the Jurassic system as well as loam, clays, sands, and lignite of the Neogene System, alternatively, are found in the Kindel and Ural interfluve. Quaternary deposits of the terraces above the flood-plain and the plain river terraces are made up of gravel, sand, and clay. River water in the Tok (in the vicinity of Pleshanovo) and Bolshoy Uran (in the vicinity of Kamenka) rivers, as well as the Sorochinskoe reservoir located at the confluence of the Samara and Bolshoy Uran rivers, is characterised by low 87 Sr/86Sr values: Bolshoy Uran – 0.708072, Sorochinskoe Reservoir – 0.708541, and the least radiogenic 87Sr/86Sr ratio is observed for the River Tok – 0.707460. These ratios are likely to reflect the average composition of the rocks drained by these rivers along their course. The ranges of Sr isotope ratios in vegetation are: 0.708790–0.708924 (Gerasimovka), 0.707525–0.709075 (Pleshanovo), 0.708373–0.709783 (Kamenka), 0.708307– 0.709334 (Bogolyubovka). Moreover, wetland vegetation (sedge) has a smaller scatter within each locality and lower Sr isotope ratios, and tends towards the river water

and mollusc shells. Note that mollusc shells are characterised by extremely low variations within each locality: 0.708790–0.708924 (Gerasimovka), 0.707500–0.707519 (Pleshanovo), 0.708291–0.708308 (Kamenka), 0.708172– 0.708220 (Bogolyubovka), and are located in the areas of the lowest (least radiogenic) 87Sr/86Sr ratios, close to river water and wetland vegetation (sedge), which may reflect their isotopic-geochemical relationship. The Gerasimovka III site has a rather narrow range of bioavailable strontium (0.708790– 0.709266), which corresponds to the isotopic signature of archaeological textile (0.709158), while the grass from the Gerasimovka III burial ground (0.709266) does not differ significantly from the sedge. This allows us to hypothesise that the sheep were grazing on the flooded meadows in the flood-plain of the Kindelya River, which does not contradict the geographic location and bedrock. The Pleshanovo site is characterised by the largest scatter of bioavailable strontium. The isotopic signature of the archaeological textile (0.709534) is very close to the vegetation near the Pleshanovo burial ground (0.709075), although slightly higher. It is quite different from the ‘riverine’ sedge-shell-water sample associated with the lowest isotopic ratio among all the studied localities. We believe that, taking into account the technological features of the Pleshanovo textile indicating its probable local origin, and the greatest bioavailable 87Sr/86Sr variation for the Pleshanovo site, the difference in 87Sr/86Sr ratios between the grass and ancient textile can be considered negligible, and indicates its local origin and production.

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Wide 87Sr/86Sr variations are observed for the Kamenka site, where the ‘riverine’ sedge-shell-water sample association has low strontium isotope ratios, while the terrestrial vegetation collected in the immediate vicinity of the Kamenka burial ground has the highest radiogenic 87Sr/86Sr of all studied localities and coincides with archaeological textile (0.709773). Such a high 87Sr/86Sr ratio is probably inherited from clayey soil (0.710107). A similar situation is noted for the Bogolyubovka site: 87 Sr/86Sr variations in archaeological textile (0.709262) coincide with terrestrial vegetation and the bone of a modern cattle (0.709147), while ‘riverine’ sedge-shell-water samples are characterised by less radiogenic 87Sr/86Sr. The variations of strontium isotope ratios in the samples of Srubnaya wool textiles from Gerasimovka III, Pleshanovo, Kamenka, and Bogolyubovka fall within the corresponding ranges of local bioavailable Sr for each site. Thus, a comparative analysis of the local baseline of bioavailable strontium (grass, soil leachates, mollusc shells, river water, and modern cattle bone) and four archaeological wool textiles suggests that the place of lambing and animal grazing could have been on the pastures of the south-eastern slope of the East European platform. The strontium isotope ratios in the Srubnaya human enamel from Pleshanovo, Kamenka, and Bogolyubovka range from 0.7083–0.7095. The 40–45-year-old female buried at Bogolyubovka, Kurgan 2, Burial 8, has a very low 87Sr/86Sr ratio in enamel (0.7083). Therefore, she can be considered as non-local. We believe that it is likely that this individual was born outside the Ural and Tok interfluve. All other individuals with the strontium isotope ratios from 0.7090–0.7095 can be considered to be of local origin.

Conclusion The analysed fragments of the Bronze Age wool textiles, bands, and threads come from the Srubnaya and Alakul burials in the Orenburg region. Most of them originate as elements of female headwear, such as caps and bands. Triangular face pendants were made of fabric combined with other materials, such as leather, wood, fur, and bronze jewellery. A distinctive feature of the tabby woven textiles is the use of threads with alternating twist directions (z and s) and yarns of different diameter, which enabled the weavers to produce fabrics with a distinctive surface texture and appearance. These technical features have also been recorded in the Bronze Age textiles found in Kazakhstan and southern Siberia, regions located further to the east (Orfinskaya et al. 1999). The Sr isotopic ratios of wool samples suggest that all analysed textiles were locally produced from fleece of ovicaprids that grazed in the interfluves of the rivers on the south-eastern slopes of the Ural Mountains. This conclusion is in line with the structural uniformity of the textiles.

Sr isotopic ratios indicate that all analysed individuals from the same sites, except for one (Bogolyubovka, Kurgan 2, Burial 8), were also local. The region where these individuals were born correlates with the region of the wool-bearing animal origin and grazing. The burial of the non-local woman of 40–45 years old at Bogolyubovka yielded a fragment of wool cloth, which was also locally produced. This woman was born far away from the place of burial; however, she wore local garments with some elements made of wool. The new 14C dates fit well into the period of the rapid spread of wool across the steppe and the forest-steppe belts in northern Eurasia (Shishlina et al. 2020). We may infer from our analysis that during 1750–1650 cal BC the production of wool textiles in the southern Urals steppe belt was an integral part of the economy of the local populations.

Acknowledgements This study was supported by projects of the Russian Scientific Fund, grant No. 21-18-00026 (technological analyses, 14C dating of textile, interpretation) and Russian Fund of Basic Research, grant No. 20-09-00194 (analyses of 87Sr/86Sr ratios of the bioavailable local samples). We would like to thank Ildar Faizulin for helping to collect bioavailable samples.

Bibliography Azemard, С., Zazzo, A., Marie, A., Lepetz, A., Debain-Francfort, C., Idriss, A. and Zirah, S. (2019) Animal fiber use in the Keriya valley (Xinjiang, China) during the Bronze and Iron Ages: A proteomic approach. Journal of Archaeological Sciences 110, 1–12. Barber, E.J.W. (1991) Prehistoric Textiles. The Development of Cloth in the Neolithic and Bronze Ages with Special Reference to the Aegean. Princeton, Princeton University Press. Becker, C., Benecke, N., Grabundžija, A., Külchelmann, H.-Ch., Pollock, S., Schier, W., Schoch, Ch., Schrakamp, I., Schütt, A. and Schumacher, M. (2016) The textile revolution. Research into the origin and spread of wool production between the Near East and Central Europe. eTopoi Journal for Ancient Studies 6, 102–51. Bender Jørgensen, L.B. (2015) North European Textiles until AD 1000. Aarhus, Aarhus University Press. Bentley, R.A. (2006) Strontium isotopes from the earth to the archaeological skeleton: A review. Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory 13 (3), 135–87. Bentley, R.A. and Knipper, C. (2005) Geological patterns in biologically available strontium, carbon and oxygen isotope signatures in Prehistoric SW Germany. Archaeometry 47 (3), 629–44. DOI:10.1111/J.1475-4754.2005.00223.X Bronk Ramsey, C. (2009) Bayesian analysis of radiocarbon dates. Radiocarbon 51 (1), 337–60. Buzon, M.R., Simonetti, A. and Creaser, R.A. (2007) Migration in the Nile Valley during the New Kingdom period: a preliminary strontium isotope study. Journal of Archaeological Sciences 34, 1391–401.

6.  Humans, wool textiles, chronology, and provenance Ericson, J.E. (1985). Strontium isotope characterization in the study of prehistoric human ecology. Journal of Human Evolution 14, 503–14. Frangipane, M., Strand, A., Laurito, R., Möller-Wiering, S., Nosch, M.-L., Rast-Eicher, A. and Lassen, A.W. (2009). Arslantepe, Malatya (Turkey): Textiles, tools and imprints of fabrics from the 4th to the 2nd millennium BCE. Paleorient 35 (1), 5–29. Frei, K.M. (2014) Provenance of archaeological wool textiles: New case studies. Open Journal of Archaeometry 2, 5239. Frei, K.M. (2019) Wool production and Strontium isotope analyses. In S. Sabatini and S. Bergerbrant (eds), The Textile Revolution in Bronze Age Europe, 239–54. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Frei, K.M., Frei, R., Mannering, U., Gleba, M., Nosch, M.L. and Lyngstrom, H. (2009) Provenance of ancient textiles – A pilot study evaluating the strontium isotope system in wool. Archaeometry 51 (2), 252–76. Frei, K.M., Mannering, U., Kristiansen, K., Allentoft, M.E., Wilson, A.S., Skals, I., Tridico, S., Nosch, M.L., Willerslev, E., Clarke, L. and Frei, R. (2015) Tracing the dynamic life story of a Bronze Age Female. Scientific Reports 5, 10431. Frei, K.M., Mannering, U., Vanden Berghe, I. and Kristiansen, K. (2017) Bronze Age wool: Provenance and dye investigations of Danish textiles. Antiquity 91 (357), 640–54. Gleba, M. and Mannering, U. (eds) (2012) Textiles and Textile Production in Europe from Prehistory to AD 400. Ancient Textile Series 11. Oxford, Oxbow Books. Hajj, F., Poszwa, A., Bouchez, J. and Guérold, F. (2017) Radiogenic and ‘stable’ strontium isotopes in provenance study: A review and first results on archaeological wood from shipwrecks. Journal of Archaeological Sciences 86, 24–49. Kasyanova, A.V., Streletskaya, M.V., Chervyakovskaya, M.V. and Kiseleva, D.V. (2019) A method for 87Sr/86Sr isotope ratio determination in biogenic apatite by MC-ICP-MS using the SSB technique. AIP Conference Proceedings 2174 (1), 020028. Kiseleva, D.V., Chervyakovskaya, M.V., Shishlina, N.I. and Shagalov, E.S. (2021) Strontium isotope analysis of modern raw wool materials and archaeological textiles. In A. Yuminov, N. Ankusheva, M. Ankushev, E. Zaykova, and D. Artemyev (eds), Geoarchaeology and Archaeological Mineralogy. GAM 2019. Springer Proceedings in Earth and Environmental Sciences, 25–28. Springer, Cham. DOI:10.1007/978-3-030-48864-2_4 Maurer, A.-F., Galer, S.J.G., Knipper, C., Beierlein, L., Nunn, E.V., Peters, D., Tütken, T., Alt, K.W. and Schöne, B.R. (2012) Bioavailable 87Sr/86Sr in different environmental samples – Effects of anthropogenic contamination and implications for isoscapes in past migration studies. Science of the Total Environment 433, 216–29. Orfinskaya, O.V., Golikov, V.P. and Shishlina, N.I. (1999) The comprehensive experimental study of Bronze Age items from the Eurasian steppes. In N.I. Shishlina (ed.), Bronze Age

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Textiles from the Eurasian Steppes, 58–185. Collected Papers of the State Historical Museum 109. Moscow, State Historical Museum. Reimer, P.J., Bard, E., Bayliss, A., Beck, J.W., Blackwell, P.G., Bronk Ramsey, C., Grootes, P.M., Guilderson, T.P., Haflidason, H., Hajdas, I., Hattž, C., Heaton, T.J., Hoffmann, D.L., Hogg, A.G., Hughen, K.A., Kaiser, K.F., Kromer, B., Manning, S.W., Niu M., Reimer, R.W., Richards, D.A., Scott, E.M., Southon, J.R., Staff, R.A., Turney, C.S.M. and van der Plicht, J. (2013) IntCal13 and Marine13 radiocarbon age calibration curves 0–50,000 years cal BP. Radiocarbon 55 (4), 1869–87. Ryan, S.E, Dabrowski, V., Dapoigny, A., Gauthier, C., Douville, E., Tengberg, M., Kerfant, C., Mouton, M., Desormeau, X., Zazzo, A. and Bouchaud, Ch. (2021) Strontium isotope evidence for a trade network between southeastern Arabia and India during Antiquity. Scientific Reports 11, 303. DOI:10.1038/ s41598-021-86256-5 Sabatini, S. and Bergerbrant, S. (eds) (2020) The Textile Revolution in Bronze Age Europe; Production, Specialisation, Consumption. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Sherratt, A. (1997) Economy and Society in Prehistoric Europe: Changing Perspectives. Princeton, Princeton University Press. Schier, W. and Pollock, S. (eds) (2020) The Competition of Fibres: Early Textile Production in Western Asia, Southeast and Central Europe (10,000–500 BC). Ancient Textiles Series 36. Oxford, Oxbow Books. Shishlina, N.I., Kiseleva, D.V., Medvedeva, P.S., Leonova, N.V., Orfinskaya, O.V., Zaytseva, M.V., Soloshenko, N.G. and Azarov, E.S. (2019) Strontium isotope composition of wool textiles from the Berezovy Rog (eastern Europe forest zone) and Chernyaki II (southern Trans-Urals) Bronze Age burials. Geoarkheologiya i arkheologicheskaya mineralogiya 5, 41–7. Shishlina, N.I., Orfinskaya, O.V., Hommel, P., Zazovskaya, E.P., Ankusheva, P.S. and van der Plicht, J. (2020) Bronze Age wool textile of the northern Eurasia: New radiocarbon data. Nanotechnologies in Russia 15 (9–10), 629–38. Snoeck, C., Ryan, S., Pouncett, J., Pellegrini, M., Claeys, P., Wainwright, A.N., Mattielli, N., Lee-Thorp, J.A. and Schulting, R.J. (2020) Towards a biologically available strontium isotope baseline for Ireland. Science of The Total Environment 712, 136–248. Thomsen, E. and Andreasen, R. (2019) Agricultural lime disturbs natural strontium isotope variations: Implications for provenance and migration studies. Science Advances 13 Mar 2019, 5 (3). DOI:10.1126/sciadv.aav8083 von Holstein, I.C.C., Font, L., Peacock, E.E., Collins, M.J., and Davies, G.R. (2015) An assessment of procedures to remove exogenous Sr before 87Sr/86Sr analysis of wet archaeological wool textiles. Journal of Archaeological Science 53, 84–93.

7 Using textiles to reconstruct looms: Burial shrouds from Deir el-Banat (Fayum, Egypt) Olga Orfinskaya and Darya Klyuchnikova

Introduction The textile material discussed in this article was discovered over the course of many years of archaeological excavations carried out by the expedition of the Center for Egyptological Research of the Russian Academy of Sciences (Moscow) at the Deir el-Banat necropolis, located on the south-eastern outskirts of the Fayum oasis, about 2 km from the Coptic monastery of Archangel Gabriel (Naklun) (see Belova and Ivanov 2019).1 The necropolis was in use from the end of the Ptolemaic period (first century BC) until the Arab period (tenth–eleventh centuries AD). In 2008, an intact burial (no. 213) was discovered – one of the most significant for the study of textile material of the Late Antique period (Fig. 7.1). A study of the textiles from burial 213 revealed fabrics with a diverse range of functions: shrouds, pillowcases, towels or scarves, and garments. Many fabrics in the burial testify to the significant role of weaving and woven products in the economy of Late Antique Egypt. Two individuals were buried in burial 213: an adult man and a child. The bodies of the buried were placed one on top of the other. The child was buried with one fabric. The body of the man was wrapped with 12 fabrics – linen shrouds, arranged in three layers. The frame on which the man lay was wrapped with two more textiles (see Orfinskaya et al. 2015, 38–47 for details). Two groups of textiles were distinguished based on their wear characteristics: fabrics that were previously utilised in everyday life and those that did not have any traces of use, that is, they appeared new (Fig. 7.2). This division was also noted in the material from other burials. The characteristics of these two groups are described below using the examples from burial 213 and various other burials.

Textile group 1 The textiles of group 1 have the following characteristics: • the width of the fabrics is between 100 and 150 cm; • the presence of tapestry inserts (e.g. burial 213, first layer, first fabric); • decorative elements are present evenly throughout the cloth (e.g. burial 213, first layer, second fabric), e.g. checks (e.g. burial 165, first layer first fabric) etc.; • good quality wool yarns are used for decorative elements; • thicker weft threads (selfbands)2 do not pass over the entire textile width uniformly and are present primarily at the start or finish of the textile, or above and below the decorative elements; • the threads of the self-bands have the same characteristics as the ground weave weft but consist of between 1–4 additional threads; • the starting and finishing borders of the textile have short fringes; • on the linen shroud from burial 165, a cabled starting border has been preserved; • the average thread count of the group 1 fabrics is 16 × 10 threads/cm, and is uniform throughout the fabric; • the warp and weft yarns of the ground weave have approximately the same diameter (0.2–0.8 mm); • the warp and weft yarns of the ground weave are of good quality (uniform twist and thickness of the yarn along the length and between adjacent yarns).

Textile group 2 The fabrics of group 2 are characterised by the following parameters: • the width of the fabrics is between 90 and 120 cm;

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Fig. 7.1. Burial 213 on the Deir el-Banat necropolis (Image: S. Ivanov).

Fig. 7.2. Schemes of burial shrouds: I) the first group of shrouds from Burial 213: a) the first fabric with tapestry inserts; a*) an element of decoration with birds; b) the second fabric; II) the second group of shrouds with simple decoration: 1 and 2) stripes; 3) a single element; 4 and 5) short stripes and crosses (Image: O. Orfinskaya).

7.  Using textiles to reconstruct looms • the colour decoration, if any, is located closer to the starting or finishing border, or consists of narrow vertical stripes (Fig 7.1.II, 1–5); • the decorative scheme is simple, e.g. a weft of a different colour is introduced in limited areas (Fig. 7.3); • for decoration, recycled wool threads are often used (tangled threads, mixed threads of different colours, wool fabric cut-offs) (Fig. 7.4), as well as linen threads of brown, red, and blue colours; • in some fabrics, self-bands consisting of thick weft threads extend throughout the width of the fabric every 2, 3, or 4 rows of ground weave weft; other fabrics lack self-bands; • the fringes on one border range in length between 1 and 11 cm (average 4.6 cm), on the other – between 12 and 24 cm (average 19 cm); the difference between the length of the fringes at the opposing borders is about 10 cm; • the thread count is on average 6 × 4 threads/cm (Fig. 7.5); • the thickness of the ground weave warp threads is on average 1 mm, while the thickness of the weft threads is on average 2 mm;

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• the ground weave warp threads are of good quality: relatively even, with a weak s-twist and narrow range in thread diameter among adjacent threads; • the threads of the ground weave weft are poorly spun with a weak twist; • the threads of the supplementary weft are thicker than the ground weave weft and often do not have a visible twist; their fibres are tangled and have frequent hurds, which indicates poor processing of the raw material. Due to these technical characteristics, we defined this group of textiles as coarse burial shrouds.

Using textiles to reconstruct the loom All the coarse burial shrouds have different fringe lengths at the opposing borders, which allows for certain inferences to be made about the loom on which they were woven. Several shrouds have been recorded in which the longer fringe has two lengths, with even threads measuring approximately 18 cm, and odd ones approximately 1–2 cm (Fig. 7.6).

Fig. 7.3. The decoration of the burial shroud from the Burial 171 (Image: S. Ivanov).

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Fig. 7.4. A coloured thread of supplementary weft of the shroud from Burial 221 (Image: O. Orfinskaya).

Inference 1: on one border, the warp yarns embraced a beam the diameter of which was about 6 cm.

Fig. 7.5. A micrograph of the burial shroud from Burial 252 (Image: O. Orfinskaya).

Based on this, it can be assumed that the warp threads were closed (where the even threads passed into the odd ones). In other words, the warp yarns at this border went around a beam from which they were cut when the fabric was ready. Knowing the length of the fringe (a loop of about 20 cm) allows the diameter of the beam to be calculated as measuring approximately 6 cm.

The opposite border of all shrouds has a short, even fringe. It is possible that the warp threads went around another beam of the loom, but then it would have been a very thin beam. Another possibility is that the fabric was cut not in the middle of the beam, but under/above it; however, in this case the threads enclosing the beam (calculated at about 30 cm) would have gone to waste. A third possibility is that the warp yarns at this border were fixed on a rope that was attached to the beam, or the fabric had a starting border, but it is hardly likely that it would have been made for such a coarse fabric. The last and most likely possibility is that two shrouds were woven on the same loom set-up, and were then separated by cutting along the unwoven strip left between the two pieces. To test this hypothesis, six shrouds with the same pattern, made by introducing an additional coloured weft thread, were examined. On all the selected shrouds, the pattern is located along the border with a short fringe. An additional decorative thread is introduced into the open shed alongside the ground weft. To make the pattern more visible, the weaver turned the coloured thread on the front side of the fabric. Thus, the thread in the woven cloth canvas does not pass directly on top of the thread of the ground weft, but sideways in order to be visible from the front of the fabric (Fig. 7.7). From the position of these yarns, it is possible to determine the sequence in which the weft yarns were woven in, thus indicating where the bottom and the top

7.  Using textiles to reconstruct looms of the fabric are. The analysis of the pattern indicates that three of the shrouds were woven from the long fringe up to the short one, and three from the short fringe to the long one. Inference 2: Two shrouds were woven on the same loom set-up in succession, leaving a small strip unwoven, along which the shrouds were cut (Fig. 7.8). Inference 3: The borders with a long fringe were connected to the beams.

Reconstruction of the loom The poor quality of the raw materials and the low density of the fabrics indicate that these fabrics were not expensive. It is thus highly probable that the simplest and commonest looms would have been used for their production. If the simplest type of the vertical two-beam loom was used for the production of the coarse burial shrouds (Kemp and Vogelsang-Eastwood 2001, 307–426), it would have had a height of about 6 m, since the largest example of a

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shroud found at Deir al-Banat is 290 cm long. If the loom had movable beams, such an option is quite possible. On the other hand, such fabrics could be woven on a horizontal ground loom, which is well documented in Egypt (Winlock 1955, XVIII, 29–33, pls 26–7, 66–7; Broudy 1993, 15, 38; Vogelsang-Eastwood 1993, 6). The advantage of this loom is that it makes it possible to set up the warp of the length required for a particular product without the limitations that a vertical loom would create. Given that either of these two looms could have been used for the manufacture of coarse burial shrouds, how do we determine which of the two options is more likely? To do that, we must consider the question: where were these shrouds made? In workshops specialising in the manufacture of coarse burial shrouds for sale? Or were they products of household production? We have no evidence of the use of such fabrics in everyday life. Unlike other textile finds from the Deir el-Banat necropolis, they present no traces of wear or repair. Moreover, our calculations suggest that only about 25 m of such fabrics with a width of at least 1 m were used in burial 213. If death came to the house where the amount of cloth necessary for

Fig. 7.6. A fringe of the shroud from the Burial 257.2 (Image: O. Orfinskaya).

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Olga Orfinskaya and Darya Klyuchnikova

the burial was not available in the shape of fabrics that could be reused for the purpose, additional fabrics (in this case 25 m of it) needed to be bought. It is more than likely that such fabrics were produced in specialised workshops. In favour of the workshop hypothesis is the fact that the characteristics of the 310 analysed shrouds are very similar. There is little patterning, and the decorative schemes can be divided into three broad groups: vertical stripes, short horizontal stripes

or crosses, and the most common pattern of coloured stripes inside a rectangle. Within each group, options are possible, but despite this, the patterning on the burial shrouds cannot be compared to the much more complex decoration of the reused tunics or furnishing fabrics. It appears that coarse burial shrouds were made according to fairly rigid standards. At the same time, it should be borne in mind that such shrouds were used over the course of several centuries.

Fig. 7.7. Formation of the decoration of the coarse burial shroud: 1) a micrograph of the area with the decoration; 2) a diagram of the position of the supplementary colour weft; 3) a diagram of weaving in a section with a supplementary weft: A) a row with a ground weft and a supplementary weft; B) a section of decoration with the weave of a supplementary weft in the 1:5 system (Image: O. Orfinskaya).

Fig. 7.8. A diagram of connection between the two pieces of fabrics (Image: O. Orfinskaya).

7.  Using textiles to reconstruct looms If people prepared for death by weaving shrouds in advance, it is quite possible to consider them as a household product. They also could weave shrouds for sale at home. Low quality linen yarn and recycled or leftover wool yarn was used for the shrouds, reflecting the low cost of the raw material and hence its availability. High skill was not required to produce these fabrics; therefore, non-professional weavers and children could produce them.

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necessary to regularly produce a very large number of shrouds and that their manufacture was an important branch of the textile production and economy of Karara’ (Huber 2015, 25 – authors’ translation). That is, for the material from the Karanis necropolis, it is assumed that the burial shrouds were woven in specialised workshops on horizontal treadle looms.

Conclusion Conclusions on loom reconstruction based on Deir el-Banat material The results of the study of burial shrouds from Deir el-Banat demonstrate that both recycled (e.g. veils) and new, specially woven for the burial textiles (coarse burial shrouds), were used for wrapping the bodies of the dead. Furnishing textiles have a cabled starting border, while coarse burial shrouds have a fringe instead. This suggests that different ground weave warping systems, and therefore different looms, were used to manufacture these two groups of fabrics. In the case of coarse burial shrouds, the warp threads went around the beams. Looms with two beams include a vertical two-beam loom and a horizontal ground loom. If these fabrics were made in specialised workshops, it is most likely that stationary vertical looms were used, that is, always ready for work. If coarse shrouds were made at home, then it is most likely that a horizontal ground loom, which was easily installed and just as easily assembled, could be used. They could weave shrouds, both for themselves and for sale (possibly using intermediaries), at home. Thus, based on the technical characteristics of coarse burial shrouds, a relatively simple vertical loom with two movable shafts or a horizontal ground loom can be reconstructed.

Comparanda Coarse (low-quality) burial shrouds have also been found in other necropolises of the same period along the Nile Valley, mainly in Middle Egypt from Saqqara to Antinopolis (South 2012, 62; Huber 2015, 25). The published fabrics differ between them, but they are all characterised by a relatively coarse appearance and low quality, allowing them to be grouped. It has been demonstrated for the material from Karanis that the shrouds were woven on the single loom set-up and there was an unwoven strip along which they were cut (Huber 2015, 22). The same observation was made on the shrouds from the el-Deir and el-Bagawat cemeteries in the Kharga oasis (Huber 2015, 22). Analysis of the material from Karanis allowed Beatrice Huber (2015, 24) to conclude that these fabrics were produced on horizontal treadle looms (métiers à marches). The author also believes that these fabrics were made specifically for the funeral and that ‘it was

The results of the analysis of the material from Karanis do not contradict the conclusions made on the basis of material from Deir el-Banat. Moreover, the analysis of a large number of coarse burial shrouds and their fragments (310 units) from the latter necropolis made it possible to clarify some points of their production: • only two pieces of fabric were woven on a single loom set-up; • the loom had two beams, the diameter of which was approximately 6 cm; • the poor quality of linen and wool yarns used indicates the availability of raw materials to all strata of society; • the simplicity of manufacture suggests that it could be handled by non-professional weavers; • there were clear standards pertaining to the final product and a small set of decorative options available. Based on this information, we suggest that the production of coarse burial shrouds was concentrated in workshops, where there were stationary vertical looms with two movable beams. These workshops determined the characteristics of the final product: its quality and pattern. It can, however, be hypothesised that private households could sell to these workshops their products woven on a horizontal ground loom at home.

Notes 1 2

For more information about the site see Belova and Ivanov 2019. On self-bands, see Kemp and Vogelsang-Eastwood 2001, 111–12.

Bibliography Belova, G.A. and Ivanov, S.V. (2019) Preliminary report on the work of the CES RAS archaeological mission at Deir el-Banat (Fayoum), the 14th season (March–April 24, 2019). Egypt and Neighbouring Countries 2, 1–30. DOI:10.24411/2686-9276-2019-00014 Broudy, E. (1993) The Book of Looms: A History of the Handloom from Ancient Times to the Present. Hanover and London, University Press of New England. Huber, B. (2015) Qarara: une affaire de linceuls. In A. De Moor, C. Fluck, and P. Linscheid (eds), Textiles, Tools and Techniques of the 1st Millennium AD from Egypt and Neighbouring Countries.

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Proceedings of the 8th Conference of the Research Group ‘Textiles from the Nile Valley’, Antwerp, 4–6 October 2013, 12–25. Tielt, Lannoo. Kemp, B.J. and Vogelsang-Eastwood, G. (2001) The Ancient Textile Industry at Amarna. London, Egypt Exploration Society. Orfinskaya, O., Belova, G., Nauton, M. and Tolmacheva, E. (2015) Textiles from burial 213 in Deir el-Banat. In A. De Moor, C. Fluck, and P. Linscheid (eds), Textiles, Tools and Techniques of the 1st Millennium AD from Egypt and Neighbouring Countries. Proceedings of the 8th Conference of the Research Group ‘Textiles from the Nile Valley’, Antwerp, 4–6 October 2013, 38–47. Tielt, Lannoo.

South, K.H. (2012) Roman and Early Byzantine Burials at Fag el-Gamus, Egypt: A Reassessment of the Case for Religious Affiliation. MA thesis, Brigham Young University. Theses and Dissertations 3534. https://scholarsarchive.byu.edu/ etd/3534 Vogelsang-Eastwood, G.M. (1993) An Introduction to Archaeological Textiles: Course Book. Leiden, Textile Research Centre. Winlock, H.E. (1955) Models of Daily Life in Ancient Egypt from the Tomb of Meket-Rēʻ at Thebes. Cambridge, MA, published for the Metropolitan Museum of Art by Harvard University Press.

8 EDS analysis of Neolithic to Early Dynastic Egyptian woven cloth in the Bolton Museum collection Alistair Dickey

Introduction This paper presents a first-time application of energy dispersive X-ray spectroscopy to examine Neolithic, Predynastic, and Early Dynastic (mid-fifth to early third millennium BC) textile material held in the collections of Bolton Museum (UK). Energy Dispersive X-ray Spectroscopy, which is frequently abbreviated as EDS or EDX, is a microanalysis technique that involves the detection and quantification of characteristic X-rays, to identify chemical elements within the sample under investigation (HAMM 2014; Goldstein et al. 2018). The EDS spectrometer is typically fitted to a Scanning Electron Microscope (SEM) to collect and analyse the X-rays generated by electron interactions; this technique is termed SEM-EDS. EDS is a method of analysis that determines the relative concentrations of elements within the chosen sample, producing qualitative (identification of particular elements), semi-quantitative (identification of particular elements as relative to each other, given as a percentage), or fully quantitative (absolute measurements of identified elements) results. Many modern EDS detectors can gather information on all elements from beryllium (Be) (atomic number 4) to americium (Am) (atomic number 95) (Newbury and Ritchie 2013, 141), with detection limits usually around 0.1–0.5 weight per cent (wt%) (Nasrazadani and Hassani 2016, 43; Zakrzewski, Shortland, and Rowland 2016, 341). However, the equipment used in this study could detect elements from boron (B) (atomic number 5) to uranium (U) (atomic number 92). This then meant that a beryllium stub could be used in the chamber on which to place the samples (see later discussion). In SEM-EDS, an electron gun emits a stream of extremely high voltage electrons, which are focused and manipulated by magnets to strike the ‘target sample’ in a vacuum chamber. The interactions that occur between the high

energy electrons and the target sample results in a number of physical phenomena, which includes the generation of BackScattered Electrons (BSEs), Secondary Electrons (SEs), and X-ray photons. Both SEs and BSEs can be used to create a surface image of the sample, while the energy and number of the X-rays will indicate which elements are present and in what proportional quantity within the sample. The EDS detector collects these characteristic X-ray photons and determines what elements are present, based on their specific energies. Thus, the EDS gathers information on the various X-ray energies and intensities emitted from within the sample, with these energies being quantised and characteristic of particular elements. This energy information is then visually displayed in the form of a spectrum, showing the various peaks at specific energies, revealing the particular elements that are present in the sample. The EDS software then uses algorithms to determine concentration percentages of identified elements within the sample based on the number of X-rays emitted at a particular energy. Higher peaks typically represent greater abundance of that particular element in the sample, but abundance can be affected by the interaction between associated elements (Ponting 2004, 166, 169; Pollard and Heron 2008, 46–8; Zakrzewski, Shortland, and Rowland 2016, 339–40).

EDS background and previous research EDS analyses of any Neolithic, Predynastic, Protodynastic, or Early Dynastic woven cloth in the collection of the Bolton Museum, UK, has never been attempted. Indeed, its application to the study of archaeological cloth from any period of Egyptian history has been limited. This may be due to concerns around sample contamination during the textiles’ life cycle (whether accidental or deliberate), which would

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question the usefulness of any results. However, the visual aspect of SEM permits steps that can be taken to avoid those more obvious areas of contamination (see later discussion) and potentially deliver useful data. EDS was first introduced in the emerging nuclear industry of the 1960s. By around 1970, EDS detectors were being coupled with SEMs, which had previously been developed and sold commercially from 1965 by the Cambridge Scientific Instrument Company at Cambridge University (Garratt-Reed and Bell 2003, 2). The application of EDS to archaeological analytical research has been utilised for many decades. This is not surprising, since its benefits are multifaceted: as an entirely non-destructive microanalytical elemental technique, it can be applied to numerous types of archaeological material (Frahm 2014, 6492). As a tool to examine textile fibres, EDS can be traced back to research exploring mordants used in historic weighted silk (Ballard et al. 1989) and other studies of yarns displaying a combination of silver and gold with organic fibres (Hardin and Duffield 1986) and elemental composition of both external and internal fibres (Jakes and Angel 1989). In the late 1980s and 1990s, substantial research into archaeological textiles was carried out in the Americas by researchers primarily examining the process of mineralisation. SEM-EDS was used on mineralised archaeological plant fibres and simulated degraded fibres to explore cellulosic fibre degradation and mineralisation. In these cases, EDS was used to obtain quantitative elemental fibre data (Chen, Jakes, and Foreman 1996, 1998). Experimental research by Jakes, Sibley, and Yerkes (1994) involved gathering modern plant fibres to create a comparative collection for prehistoric North American archaeological fibres. These were treated in different ways and then analysed with EDS and other analytical techniques. EDS was also used to examine mordanting of fibres in Peruvian Paracas funerary textiles (Martoglio et al. 1990; Jakes 1991; Jakes, Katon, and Martoglio 1991). In the UK, Ryder and Gabra-Sanders (1985, 1987) explored the benefits of applying SEM analysis to study both plant and animal fibres, but with a particular emphasis on animal fibres. They highlighted the way SEM could be used to collect fibre diameter measurements and its possible implications for understanding breeds of sheep. Another scholar, Janaway (1983, 1987), explored how the application of SEM-EDS analysis could assist in documentation of mineralised fibres and fibre identification. In 2002 a multi-disciplinary project began investigating the textiles from Halstatt in Austria, including a first-time application of EDS (Bichler et al. 2005; Joosten and van Bommel 2008). Microanalysis on the salt-mine wool textiles (1400–400 BC) found evidence for mordanting and the presence of possible inorganic contaminants from the mine (Hofmann-de Keijzer et al. 2005, 2013, 125; Joosten et al. 2006). Salt impregnation had caused the textiles

to mineralise, thus halting degradation (Joosten and van Bommel 2008, 438). In the Mediterranean region, textiles from a Middle Bronze Age female grave (Burial 102) on the College site in Sidon, Lebanon, were analysed using EDS, which determined that the fibres (probably flax) were mineralised as calcium carbonate (CaCO3) (Gleba and Griffiths 2011, 290). In 2014, a study by Margariti and Papadimitriou (2014) examined seventh-century BC textiles (of both cellulosic and proteinaceous nature) found inside a copper vessel from Argos in Greece. This was conducted alongside pXRF to offer comparative non-destructive surface analysis elemental data. In another study by Margariti (2019), SEMEDS was used as a complimentary analytical technique after the application of Fourier Transform InfraRed (FTIR) microspectroscopy to textiles from Kerameikos and Piraeus in Greece, dated to the fifth century BC. These textiles had been placed inside copper alloy urns for burial after being used to wrap the bones of the deceased individuals from burial pyres. In both cases studied, the elemental analysis was indicative of their mineralised condition. The first study to apply EDS analysis on Egyptian archaeological textiles was a paper by Stoll and Fengel (1988). Although principally concerned with exploring the degree of cellulosic polymerisation in linen taken from over 50 different museum-held textiles, they also explored the presence of salts and possible (partial) mineralisation. Fourteen years later, as part of an unpublished doctoral thesis by Glenda Marsh-Letts (2002), ESEM-EDS analysis (Environmental Scanning Electron Microscopy, a variable vacuum variant of SEM) was conducted on 30 Egyptian linen fragments from private collections or museums in Australia (MarshLetts 2002, 167, 172). This study was primarily concerned with exploring the presence of inorganic salts, including natron, and how they might have affected a mineralisation or partial mineralisation of the ancient linen. This was the first major study of the chemical identification of salts on the Egyptian textile fibre surfaces since the work of Stoll and Fengel (1988). This research showed evidence of a type of partial mineralisation in ancient Egyptian textiles caused by washing in soluble inorganic salts, including natron. This process of washing happened when the material was still being used as cloth but also during deposition, where alkaline inorganic salts were present in the archaeological environment (Marsh-Letts 2002, 282). Several recent papers have used EDS in conservation research on later Egyptian clothing items from the Coptic period. These have predominantly focused on garments made of wool or examined individual wool threads (e.g. Abdel-Kreem and El-Nagar 2005; Ferrari et al. 2016, 2017; Mabrouk 2020). In an article published in 2019, several analytical techniques (FORS and p-FL, HPLC-ESI-Q-ToF, optical microscopy under visible and UV light) were used to explore red colorants on linen woven textile fragments and mummy shrouds ranging from the Eighteenth Dynasty

8.  EDS analysis of Neolithic to Early Dynastic Egyptian woven cloth in the Bolton Museum collection to Twenty-Sixth Dynasty, now held at the British Museum and Museo Egizio. The inorganic composition of these fibres was analysed by a combination of Micro-XRF and SEM-EDS, with the aim of characterising the mordanting ions used to produce the red colouration, which identified the presence of iron and some alum (Tamburini et al. 2019). However, analysis of samples of Egyptian textiles derived from archaeological contexts (either museum held or freshly excavated) by EDS is still relatively rare. Until the present study, there has been no definite use of EDS to analyse Neolithic to Early Dynastic textiles. Marsh-Letts (2002) references a personal communication with Jana Jones (dated to 31.01.2002) concerning the identification by EDS of sodium chloride (NaCl) within textile samples from cemetery HK43 at Hierakonpolis (Marsh-Letts 2002, 51). However, in her 2011 PhD thesis, Jones makes no reference to any EDS analysis. This technique is in fact only mentioned in reference to the identification of a fragment of bone embedded within a textile fragment from a First Dynasty mortuary wrapping from an unmentioned context (Jones 2011, 223–4).

Materials, aims, and methods The present pilot study examined 24 woven cloth fragments from eight sites in Egypt that were excavated in the early twentieth century, which are part of the Egyptian textile collection at Bolton Museum (Table 8.1). The selection of samples was based on obtaining a representative cross-section from the early collection. This meant including samples from all sites, chronological periods, and context types. Four fibre standards of flax, ramie, hemp, and jute were also included.1 Originally curated and examined by William and Thomas Midgley in the early twentieth century (see Dickey 2019 for further discussion), these also formed a part of the recent doctoral study (2016–2021) by the author examining Neolithic to Early Dynastic textile techniques, production, and use. EDS analysis constituted a first-time use of this technique on the Neolithic to Early Dynastic woven cloth samples at the Bolton Museum. The aim was to explore the following aspects: • Do any of the woven cloth samples show possible evidence of past museum conservation treatment? • Can evidence for washing (pre- or post-excavation) or ancient bleaching be observed in the elemental data, such as the use of natron or other alkaline salts? • Can evidence of any associated objects in the mortuary contexts be seen in the data?

Sample preparation, treatment, and data collection The SEM examination process takes place in a vacuum, so that the electron beam is not affected by surrounding

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air molecules. Organic materials that require SEM examination are typically coated with a thin layer of either gold or carbon, making them electrically conductive and thus avoiding a build-up of charge (Jakes 2000, 61; Ponting 2004, 166; Giże 2008, 160; Zakrzewski, Shortland, and Rowland 2016, 339). Charge build-up on the sample can detrimentally affect both imaging and analysis results, creating distortions and error artefacts, and so needs to be avoided (Zakrzewski, Shortland, and Rowland 2016, 340). However, coating the sample permanently alters the material under examination. In effect, this is a destructive technique (Zakrzewski, Shortland, and Rowland 2016, 340–1). In practice, only very small amounts of material are required for analysis with SEM-EDS (Ponting 2004, 169; Jones et al. 2007, 15). It was possible, in this study, to examine the entirety of samples, as obtained from the museum; thus, no further sub-sampling was required (Pollard and Heron 2008, 49). This was possible due to the large, variable vacuum specimen chamber on the SEM used, and this is the preferred method, particularly from a museum or heritage organisation point of view. The same procedures were followed for each sample. Gloves were worn during handling to avoid human contamination and contact with the 13 mm ø, 1 mm thick beryllium stub being used for mounting the samples in the SEM chamber. Beryllium is highly toxic to the skin and can have severe side effects. This mount was chosen instead of the traditional carbon on aluminium stubs that are routinely used, as beryllium has a low atomic number and so does not interfere in elemental data output, as a carbon tab could (Goldstein et al. 2018, 396, 452). This meant that the carbon content of the samples could be recorded as viable data without the need for any additional algorithms in order to be able to discount additional carbon. The beryllium stub is also non-adhesive, thus allowing the woven cloth samples to be exchanged without damage. It produces a smooth, dark background with no reflection or glare, thus providing a favourable contrast with the material for imaging purposes. The woven cloth samples were introduced into the SEM without any prior cleaning and were left uncoated. Examination without sample coating was made possible through the use of a controlled variable vacuum. Imaging and analyses were conducted under low vacuum (30 Pa) conditions, allowing any electron-induced charge build-up on the surface of the sample to be dissipated by ionised air molecules within the chamber. As stated before, it is also preferable to minimise the level of interference when working with archaeological samples. Through using SEM, obvious silicate inclusion areas on the fibres were avoided, so as to provide more representative semi-quantitative data on elements present on the fibre surface.

Alistair Dickey

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Table 8.1. Samples used in EDS analyses. Analysis no.

Site

Location in Egypt

Egyptian period

Naqada chronology

Dates BC

Context

Fay-1

Kom K in the Faiyum

Lower

Neolithic (Faiyumian)

–

c. 4650–4200

in a pot in annex granary

Bad-7B

Badari

Middle

Neolithic (Badarian)

–

c. 4400–3800

Grave 5110

Bad-8

Badari

Middle

Neolithic (Badarian)

–

c. 4400–3800

Grave 5101

Bad-1A

Badari

Middle

Predynastic

c. IID1

c. 3400–3350

Grave 3932

Bad-5C

Badari

Middle

Predynastic

IID2

3308–3104 cal (95.4% prob)

Grave 4620

Hem-9B

Hemamieh

Middle

Early Dynastic

IIIC

c. 3060–2900

Grave 1964

Mos-40Dii

Mostagedda

Middle

Neolithic (Badarian)

–

c. 4400–3800

Grave 494

Mos-2A

Mostagedda

Middle

Neolithic (Badarian)

–

3939–3702 cal (95.4% prob)

Grave 1215

Mos-43A

Mostagedda

Middle

Neolithic (Badarian)

–

3989–3800 cal (95.4% prob)

Grave 1214

Mos-6A

Mostagedda

Middle

Predynastic

IIC

c. 3500–3400

Grave 1609

Mos-8A

Mostagedda

Middle

Predynastic

IIB

c. 3600–3500

Grave 11725

Mos-27A

Mostagedda

Middle

Predynastic

IIC

3339–2933 cal (95.4% prob)

Grave 1637

Ger-3A

Gerza

Lower

Predynastic

IID2

3351–3098 cal (95% prob)

Grave 262

Ger-4Cii

Gerza

Lower

Predynastic

IID2

c. 3350–3300

Grave 263

Qau-1B

Qau

Middle

Predynastic

IIB

c. 3600–3500

Grave 103

Mat-2

Matmar

Middle

Proto-Early Dynastic

-

c. 3300–2686

Grave 2004

Tar-3

Tarkhan

Lower

Early Dynastic

IIIC2

c. 3060–2900

Mastaba 2050

Tar-7

Tarkhan

Lower

Early Dynastic

IIIC2

c. 3060–2900

Mastaba 2038

Tar-13

Tarkhan

Lower

Early Dynastic

IIIC2

c. 3060–2900

Mastaba 2038

Tar-16A

Tarkhan

Lower

Early Dynastic

IIIC2

3020–2891 and 3331– 2931 cal (95.4% prob)

Mastaba 1060

Tar-18

Tarkhan

Lower

Early Dynastic

IIIC2

c. 3060–2900

Mastaba 2038

Tar-21

Tarkhan

Lower

Early Dynastic

IIIC2

c. 3060–2900

Mastaba 2050

Tar-27

Tarkhan

Lower

Early Dynastic

IIIC2

c. 3060–2900

Mastaba 2050

Lower

Tar-35

Tarkhan

Early Dynastic

IIIC2

c. 3060–2900

Grave 2040

Hem-S

STANDARD –

–

–

–

–

Fla-S

STANDARD –

–

–

–

–

Jut-S

STANDARD –

–

–

–

–

Ram-S

STANDARD –

–

–

–

–

There is no internal dating for the Badarian period unless material has been carbon dated. Therefore, the general range of the Badarian period is given. Approximate dates BC are given for those samples where the grave context has been dated according to the Naqada chronology. Calibrated dates taken from other research papers for specific samples are given when known. See the following sources for dating: Badarian (Dee et al. 2013; Tassie 2014); Kom K (Wendrich, Taylor, and Southon 2010); Gerza (Petrie 1920, pl. LIII; Stevenson 2006, 237, 2013, 19); Badari (Brunton and Caton-Thompson 1928, 52, pl. XXXIII; Griswold 1992, 266; Hendrickx 1993, 46); Qau (Brunton and Caton-Thompson 1928, pl. XXX, Hendrickx 1993, 56); Matmar (Brunton 1948, 26, pl. XX); Hemamieh (Brunton 1927, 10, 13, pls VI, XI); Mostagedda (Brunton 1937, 92, pls XXIX, XXXI; Griswold 1992, 285; Hendrickx 1993, 49–50; Jones et al. 2014, 2; Wengrow et al. 2014, 101); and Tarkhan (Petrie 1914, 3–9; Hendrickx 1993, 63, 65; Dee et al. 2013).

8.  EDS analysis of Neolithic to Early Dynastic Egyptian woven cloth in the Bolton Museum collection

Protocols Analysis was conducted in the archaeological laboratories at the University of Liverpool using a JEOL IT300 Variable Pressure-Scanning Electron Microscope (VP-SEM) equipped with a large sample chamber, as well as both Backscatter Electron (BEI) and Secondary Electron (SEI) Image detector options. This is coupled with a Bruker XFlash 6|30, 30 mm2 large area Silicon Drift Detector (SDD) EDS. IT300 Operation software was used in the SEM and Quantax Esprit 2.1 for EDS analysis. Textile researchers have used coated (Joosten and van Bommel 2008, 434) and uncoated (e.g. Gleba, Boudin, and Di Pietro 2019, 18) samples for SEM-EDS analysis, depending on the model of SEM and type of vacuum (low, high, or variable pressure) being used in the SEM chamber, as well as the type of analysis being conducted. The use of a VP-SEM in this study meant any charge build-up could be successfully managed, therefore negating the need for adding conductive coatings (Goldstein et al. 2018, 173–85, 200; Thiel 2019). A low vacuum (relatively high chamber pressure) was used with an accelerating voltage of 20 kV, a chamber pressure of 30 Pa and a probe current of 40% (approximately 0.15nA). Initial vertical axis sample-to-pole piece working-distance was set to 25 mm. Depending on the sample and obtaining a clear sharp image, an absolute working distance between 8 mm and 11 mm was established for each sample before analysis. The electron beam stabilisation of the SEM took approximately half an hour to complete before a previously prepared

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copper standard stub could be used to perform the system factor calibration2 process. The protocols described above were adjusted as needed to obtain a high-definition image of the copper standard on the computer screen. Analysis of the copper standard did not begin until the spectrometer displayed a count rate of at least 2000 cps (counts per second is the number of X-rays arriving in the detector per second), so as to obtain viable data for elemental analysis. An acquisition time of 60 seconds3 was used, with the copper standard being set once the standard deviation was ≤ 0.15%. The default method was used in the EDS software, which collected semi-quantitative data (Ferrari et al. 2017, 7044). After accepting the calibration factor, the SEM was ‘vented’ and the copper standard removed from the chamber. On occasions, the probe current had to be increased, sometimes up to 70% (approximately 1.6 nA) to gain the desired count-rate of over 2000 on the spectrometer for analysis. Once the required count-rate was reached, ‘fast mode’ scanning was selected on the SEM and an image was captured. A beam-scan area was selected using this from which elemental data was then collected by running an acquire time of 60 seconds using the Phi Rho Z quantification model. This is used to ‘correct’ the collected data allowing quantitative and semi-quantitative data to be extrapolated from energies and counts. The spectrum peak automatic identification had to be reviewed manually as sometimes the software did not correctly identify certain major peaks or identify and label some lower intensity peaks. If this was the case, these had to be inserted manually in the software.

Fig. 8.1. EDS data collected from the flax standard.

Alistair Dickey

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Table 8.2. Elemental classifications. Normalised wt%

Elemental classification

≥ 10

major

≥ 1 but < 10

minor