Medieval Metalwork in Bilād al-Shām

By Gregory Bilotto

Through the generous support of the Palestine Exploration Fund, I was able to visit two mediaeval Islamic archaeological sites and the metal artefacts recovered from their subsequent excavations for my research in metalwork in Bilād al-Shām (the Levant). These two sites, Ḳayṣāriyya (Caesarea) and Ṭabariyya (Tiberias), have provided the largest quantities of metalwork datable to the Fāţimid period (909-1172 CE).

My interest in mediaeval Islamic metalwork stemmed from working in numerous archaeological excavations completing my MA degree in Islamic architecture while living in Cairo, Egypt. My graduate studies focused the architecture of the Fāţimids – a dynasty that reached ultimate feats in structure and design.

Fāţimid decorative arts, principally the often-overlooked study of metalwork, also helped express these accomplishments. It was Fāţimid artisans’ metalwork production in mediaeval Bilād al-Shām, Ifrīḳiya (North Africa) and Miṣr (Egypt) that inspired me to continue my research in the doctoral programme at the University of London’s School of Oriental and African Studies.

Fig. 1. Copper-alloy vessels, 11th century CE cache Ṭabariyya, Israel Museum.
Photo G Bilotto, April 2016, courtesy Dr Na’ama Brosh.

Travelling from London to Jerusalem, my research brought me to the archaeological sites, but also to several museums in the Holy City. The Israel Museum, which contained a large quantity of the excavated metal objects (Fig. 1), had among its collection a copper-alloy and enamel vessel with human figural decoration. This type of decoration and enamel technique is exceptionally rare as there are no related examples from the Fāţimid period.

Fig. 2. Fāţimid copper-alloy vessel with human figural decoration in enamel, Israel Museum. Photo G Bilotto, April 2016, courtesy Dr Na’ama Brosh.

After holding this precious metal vessel in my hands, carefully examining the facial expressions and epigraphy, there is no doubt that it represents the epitome of Fāţimid art, which is truly incredible (Fig. 2). I also had the opportunity to visit the museum store administered by the Israel Antiquities Authority (IAA) in Bet Shemesh, outside Jerusalem (Fig. 3).

Fig. 3. A view of the IAA store, Bet Shemesh. Photo G Bilotto, April 2016, courtesy Dr Ayala Lester.

The store holds the remainder of the excavated metalwork, mostly consisting of tools and scrap. These objects were extremely helpful in determining centres of metalwork production and technique (Fig. 4). My research continued in Jerusalem with examination of several mediaeval Islamic metal vessels at the Rockefeller Archaeological Museum and a unique Fāţimid metal object at the Leo Aryeh Mayer Museum of Islamic Art.

Fig. 4. Copper-alloy scrap, 11th century CE Ṭabariyya, IAA store. Photo G Bilotto, April 2016, courtesy Dr Ayala Lester.

Arriving at the ruined mediaeval city of Ḳayṣāriyya for the first time, I was amazed and awed. The majestic coastal city has an exotic and almost tropical quality (Fig. 5). The living history was tangible, with years of habitation from the Romans to the Ottoman Empire, one can imagine ships and armies of conquest arriving throughout time.

Fig. 5. A northern view, Ḳayṣāriyya, with its antique and mediaeval ruins. Photo G Bilotto, April 2016.

The metal cache I was interested in was secreted away during the 11th century CE – a time when one of these conquering armies was invading; another such event occurred at Ṭabariyya.  I noted many unpublished details about the geography during my visit, and examining the findspot for the cache of metalwork was not only exciting but extremely helpful in placing the material in context (Fig. 6).

Fig. 6. Findspot of the Fāţimid metal cache, Ḳayṣāriyya. Photo G Bilotto, April 2016.

Further Reading

Arnon, Y., et al. 1999. ‘The Fatimid Hoard from Caesarea: A Preliminary Report’, in M. Barrucand (ed), L’ Égypte Fatimide: son art et son histoire, Paris: Presse l’Université de Paris-Sorbonne, 233-48.

Hirschfeld, Y., et al. 2008. Tiberias Excavations in the House of the Bronzes, Final Report

Volume I: Architecture, Stratigraphy and Small Finds, (Qedem 48), Jerusalem: Hebrew University of Jerusalem.

Khamis, E., 2013. The Fatimid Metalwork Hoard from Tiberias: Excavations in the House of the Bronzes, Final Report Volume II, (Qedem 55), Jerusalem: Hebrew University of Jerusalem.

Rosen-Ayalon, M., 2013. ‘A Unique Metal Object from Tiberias’, Atiqot 76, 173-81.

Stacey, D., et al. 2004. Excavations at Tiberias 1973-1974: The Early Islamic Periods, (IAA Reports 21), Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority.

 

Basement Discoveries at the PEF

By Christine Spenuk (PEF Volunteer)

“The original mission statement of the PEF was to promote research into the archaeology and history, manners and customs and culture, topography, geology and natural sciences of biblical Palestine and the Levant.” (PEF website/History)

This is a mission statement that I believe to still be true today. The Palestine Exploration Fund, as I have come to know it, is a space that is welcoming to scholars, students, and individuals wishing to learn more about the history of Palestine by looking through the vast and varied collections stored on site. In the time I have been volunteering at the PEF I have seen archaeologists, students, teachers and visitors to London come seeking certain materials to learn more about a specific subject, from 19th century PEF explorer Charles Warren’s Jerusalem maps, to photographs taken at excavations from a certain site to locating a specific book stored in the library.

PEF/AO/2359: A ceramic jug, likely made in the early Roman period (c. 1st Century BC – 1st Century BCE), discovered during John and Molly Crowfoot’s Samaria excavations in the 1930s. Photo. C. S.

I became aware of the Palestine Exploration Fund through one of my university professors. After mentioning to her that I was going to be spending the next 2 years living and working in London, she told me about the PEF’s 150th Anniversary Conference taking place in June 2015. I was intrigued; I had just finished university and hadn’t had much of a chance to explore many archaeological organizations other than the ones around my school and home (both in Canada). I attended the day-long conference and the following summer sent an email to the curator, Felicity Cobbing, asking about volunteer opportunities within the organization. That fall (September 2016) I began volunteering at the PEF.

PEF/AO/100: A ceramic juggler; dating to the Middle Bronze IIA (currently thought to be c.1950 BCE) from Charles Warren’s excavations in Jerusalem in the late 1860s. Photo: C. S.

At first I was unsure of what I would be doing, but having both experience in photographing artefacts and working with a collection of artefacts from a previous job in Canada, I was hopeful my role would be one I was familiar with (and it is). I am busy photographing the PEF’s extensive collection of archaeological artefacts.

There are over 6,000 artefacts in the archive and so far I have photographed just over 2,000, mainly from three excavations: Charles Warren’s Jerusalem excavations (1867-1870), Flinders Petrie and Frederick Bliss’s Tell el Hesi excavations (1890-92), and British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem/Harvard University excavations at Samaria (led by John and Molly Crowfoot in the 1930s). Included in these artefacts are beautifully intact pieces of pottery, potsherds, glass pieces, tiny beads, charred ivory fragments (a lot of these), tiny pieces of gold leaf (which stick to everything you don’t want them to making photographing challenging), and small scarabs. Many of these artefacts are so tiny I am worried my camera won’t be able to zoom in close enough to capture the stunning details, but so far my sturdy Sony hasn’t let me down. The size of some of the fragments means it is not always possible to determine what the shard once was.

PEF/AO/2273: Fragments from John and Molly Crowfoot’s excavations at Samaria in the 1930s; ivory fragments (black). Photo: C. S.

PEF/AO/1973: Glass rim fragment (c. 4th – 6th centuries CE) discovered during the Samaria excavations. Photo: C. S.

PEF/AO/68: A medieval Islamic hand-made pottery lamp with painted decoration and glaze, discovered during Warren’s excavations in Jerusalem. Photo: C. S.

The full collection is housed in the basement of the PEF; a cramped cluttered space with every inch of available space used for storage. Even the furniture holds historical significance. While the space is small, and the storage of the artefacts is less than ideal, I go to basement happily; every day I am there I discover another piece of the past that I would not have seen otherwise. I can definitely say that I much prefer to be working in a basement getting covered in 1,000 year old dirt to sitting in an office typing on a computer all day!

Author at work photographing objects at the PEF.

Looking at the Face of History

By Felicity Cobbing (PEF)

Exhibition Review: ‘Creating an Ancestor: The Jericho Skull’

Currently showing at the British Museum’s Room 3 gallery until the 19th February is a small but fascinating exhibition concerning one of its most important exhibits – one of the Neolithic plastered skulls from Jericho in Palestine, excavated by Kathleen Kenyon and her team in the 1950s.

The Jericho skull on display in the British Museum. Photo: F. Cobbing, 2016.

Jericho on the Map. This relief map is based on the PEF’s Survey of Western Palestine 1871 – 1878, and digitally modified by F. Cobbing.

The exhibition was designed by Dr. Alexandra Fletcher in the BM’s Department of Middle East, and is based on the work of a research team that brought together colleagues from the BM’s Science department, Natural History Museum, University of Liverpool and Imperial College London.

Using the latest Micro-CT scanning and 3D printing technology, the team have revealed hitherto hidden physiological details to us, and on display alongside the skull itself is a 3D reconstruction of the face and head of the man whose skull it was. The exhibition is at once the story of the excavations and Kenyon’s exacting methodology, the thrilling moment of discovery, recounted Peter Parr who actually found the skull, and of the Neolithic culture at Jericho from which the skull originates.

The reconstructed 3D portrait of Jericho Man. Photo: F. Cobbing, 2016.

The purpose of the skulls in this culture is examined, as is the process of the turning the human remains into a cultural artefact. The extraordinary science and technology which has enabled this story to be told for the first time is the final element. Guiding us around is the figure of a rather cuddly, child friendly Kathleen Kenyon, presenting her side of the story at the bottom of each test panel in a feature especially designed for families and school groups. The PEF’s own humble contribution is a photo of Kenyon at Jerusalem by John Bartlett.

Dame Kathleen Kenyon in Jerusalem, photo by John Bartlett as seen in the exhibition. Photo: F. Cobbing, 2016.

This little exhibition is a great example of how one object can tell a myriad of stories, and how research into objects is continuously evolving. There is an undeniably special feeling at looking into such an ancient individual’s face, not seen for 10,000 years, but at the same time someone who is entirely recognisable as one of us.

‘Creating an Ancestor: The Jericho Skull’ is free, and runs until 19th February, with gallery talks and events throughout this period. Check the BM events website for more details, including an absolutely fascinating podcast about the excavation, the skull’s discovery, and the modern science behind the most recent research.

This 1933 photograph shows a figure gazing the site of ancient Jericho beyond, from John Garstang’s archive at the PEF.

Miscellanea of Duncan Mackenzie

By Sarah Irving

This summer, a travel grant from the Palestine Exploration Fund allowed me to spend some time in London, rifling through the PEF’s archives for traces of Yusif ‘Abu Selim’ Khazin and Yusif Khattar Kanaan, two Lebanese Christian overseers who, between 1890 and World War One, worked on the Fund’s excavations.

My primary interest, and the focus of this piece of research, is the role of Arabs working on archaeological digs in Palestine in the Late Ottoman period. The standard view of the archaeology of this period tends to focus on a single (white, educated, male) leader who makes pioneering discoveries and to whom all credit for a dig accrues. As future publications emerging from this research will show, this image often does not hold up under scrutiny of the daily records and personal writings of excavators and their staff and visitors. I think that the two Yusifs – as well as many other non-Westerners who contributed to British, American, German and French archaeological digs in the Holy Land pre-WWI – were actually important figures, not only in the practical, day-to-day running of the excavations, but also at times in how finds were understood and interpreted.

One part of my approach to this issue has been to look at the networks of contact and knowledge exchange which happened, not only in formal, academic settings but also in informal environments. Much of my focus has been on the writings and activities of Frederick J. Bliss and R.A.S. Macalister, as the two longest-serving PEF excavation leaders at the time. In this blog, though, I want to show a couple of small, rather peripheral, but also quite fascinating and indicative objects which emerged from the archives.

The first is a pair of calling-cards found in a wallet belonging to Duncan Mackenzie. Mackenzie was a Scottish archaeologist, best-known for his work with Sir Arthur Evans at Knossos in Crete. After Macalister’s resignation from the PEF to take up his chair at University College Dublin in 1909. Although Mackenzie had a reputation as a brilliant field archaeologist, he was also a difficult character; in a 1996 article for Palestine Exploration Quarterly, Nicoletta Momigliano described his time at the Fund’s Ain Shams dig as one of “conflicting interests and expectations, of misunderstandings and self-delusions, of wounded pride and dysentery. It is not a ‘success’ story”.

Calling-cards bestowed on Mackenzie by Boulus Said of “The Palestine Educational Store, Jaffa Road” and Gustaf Dalman, styling him “Rector of the German Archaeological Institute, Consul to His Majesty the King of the Swedes, Goths and Wends, and to the King of Denmark”. (PEF-DA-MACK-313.01 – 03)

Calling-cards bestowed on Mackenzie by Boulus Said of “The Palestine Educational Store, Jaffa Road” and Gustaf Dalman, styling him “Rector of the German Archaeological Institute, Consul to His Majesty the King of the Swedes, Goths and Wends, and to the King of Denmark”. (PEF-DA-MACK-313.01 – 03)

The calling-cards reflect, however, a different aspect of Mackenzie’s time in Palestine, his interactions with the intellectual and social milieu of Late Ottoman Jerusalem. Jerusalem is often painted a somewhat of a backwater, especially in contrast with Cairo and Beirut, the thriving centres of the Arabic Nahda, or renaissance. But the city saw much coming-and-going of Western scholars, missionaries, diplomats and businessmen, as well as a more stable population of local Arabs and Jews engaged in thinking, writing, studying and publishing. Mackenzie met many people from each of these overlapping social worlds, as these cards demonstrate.

The first was given to him by Boulus Said. Boulus owned the Palestine Educational Bookshop (the precursor to the Educational Bookshop on Salah Eddin Street, beloved of many visitors to present-day Jerusalem).  In his study of Palestinian books and literacy Reading Palestine, Ami Ayalon estimates that Boulus Said founded the bookshop around 1910 – so when he handed Duncan Mackenzie this card he had only recently set up his store. Later, on his return from the USA, Boulus’ cousin Wadie (later William) joined the business and established a branch in Cairo; Wadie is probably best-known as father of the great Palestinian scholar Edward Said.

The Palestine Educational Bookshop was not only one of the first bookstores and stationers in the country. It was also a publisher, and the company name appears on many works from the Mandate era, in both Arabic and English. A rival Jerusalem bookshop, the Andalus, advertised the fact that it could source books from Cairo within 24 hours, ordering via telegraph and receiving them through the railway which passed through Gaza and Jaffa to arrive in Jerusalem; there seems little reason why the Educational, with its Cairo branch, could not have performed similar feats. Certainly newspaper adverts highlight its range of international titles.

The presence of a calling-card from Boulus Said in Mackenzie’s wallet, therefore, represents a beginning – an early moment in the development of a significant cultural and intellectual phenomenon in pre-1948 Jerusalem, and the linkage of that moment to some of the most important figures in twentieth-century Palestinian history. The second calling-card, though, represents something more like an ending. It came from Gustaf Dalman, a German Orientalist, theologian and ethnographer.

In the 1890s and 1910s Dalman had lived and worked in Palestine (he also, early in his career, applied to become a Free Church of Scotland missionary there), and published major works on, in particular, the Aramaic language, Hebrew theology, and Christianity. At this point in time, German researchers were producing some of the most important scholarship on both contemporary and historic Palestine, and Dalman was foremost amongst them. But soon after Mackenzie left Palestine in 1913, WWI saw German influence in the Middle East (via its ally, the Ottoman Empire), collapse.

The American archaeologist WF Albright recorded just after the war that Dalman had returned to Jerusalem, but that his rivals amongst the British and French scholars in the city were trying to have his passport revoked. The portrait Albright’s letters paint of Dalman is of a rather sad and isolated figure. Mackenzie’s collection of cards, therefore, bears witness not only to the rise of a distinctive Palestinian literary and social milieu with Boulus Said, but also to the decline of Germany’s heyday in the Ottoman-ruled Holy Land.

Caption: A well-travelled envelope carrying a letter to Duncan Mackenzie, via Cairo, Wadi Halfa and back to Alexandria. (PEF/DA/MACK300)

Caption: A well-travelled envelope carrying a letter to Duncan Mackenzie, via Cairo, Wadi Halfa and back to Alexandria. (PEF/DA/MACK300)

Caption: Reverse side of the envelope showing further stamps. (PEF/DA/MACK300)

Caption: Reverse side of the envelope showing further stamps. (PEF/DA/MACK300)

The final small item also represents an ending, although on lesser scale. A little envelope, addressed to Mackenzie (care of the Thomas Cook travel agency), it is liberally covered with the stamps of postal offices stretching from Alexandria, via Cairo and Wadi Halfa, to Khartoum, and finally stamped ‘Unclaimed’. All date from 1913, and show it to be a remnant of the PEF’s attempts to contact Mackenzie during his employment on a dig in Sudan that year.

By this time he was embroiled in an acrimonious dispute with the Fund over the terms under which his employment had been terminated and his failure to deliver excavation reports from Ain Shams. The envelope – which presumably did reach Mackenzie, since it appears in the archive, or else was returned to its sender – highlights the efficiency of the Egyptian postal service in this era, and the reach of the British imperial administration. But with its array of postmarks and fruitless journey across North Africa, it also seems to echo the missed opportunities and miscommunications that marked the PEF’s relationship with this brilliant, troubled, unconventional man.

Further Reading:

Ayalon, A. 2004. Reading Palestine. Austin: University of Texas Press.

Momigliano, N. 1996.  Duncan Mackenzie and the Palestine Exploration Fund. Palestine Exploration Quarterly 128 (1): 139-170

Said, E. 2000. Out of Place: A Memoir. London: Granta.

Who Was Karimeh Abbud? Part 1

By Mary Pelletier

A quick Google search reveals an oft-repeated, neat little biography for Karimeh Abbud, complete with an image of her, stood next to a large-format camera, shutter release in hand.  Karimeh was allegedly the first female photographer in Palestine, born in 1896 to an esteemed, intellectual family who resided in Bethlehem. She also went by the title ‘Lady Photographer’, and proudly stamped the moniker on her prints. Seeing this calling card, I was hooked – how had Karimeh managed to make her mark in the old boys’ club of Holy Land photography practice?

Karimeh Abbud and her camera, Haifa, 1920s. Photo by C. Swaid (Source: Ahmad Mrowat, Jerusalem Quarterly, Issue 31, p.72)

Karimeh Abbud and her camera, Haifa, 1920s. Photo by C. Swaid (Source: Ahmad Mrowat, Jerusalem Quarterly, Issue 31, p.72)

The biographical information about Karimeh online was surprisingly one-dimensional. She had worked throughout Palestine, making her studio in Nazareth, Bethlehem and Jerusalem, specialising in photographs of women and families. Articles stated her importance with certainty, but I was curious as to the source of this information – did it come from her family? Who had declared her the ‘first’ Palestinian female photographer, or as some claimed, the first female to run a photographic business in the Middle East? What had happened to her photographs, and why weren’t they in a museum collection somewhere?

Karimeh Abbud studio stamp (Source: Ahmad Mrowat, Jerusalem Quarterly, Issue 31, p.72)

Karimeh Abbud studio stamp (Source: Ahmad Mrowat, Jerusalem Quarterly, Issue 31, p.72)

With funding from the PEF, I got right down to asking anyone in Bethlehem and Jerusalem with photography knowledge who would listen – where can I find Karimeh Abbud and her photographs? Articles from the Jerusalem Quarterly and online sources cited the Nazareth Archive Project and Ahmad Mrowat as being the source of the research. The Nazareth Archive Project was said to house Karimeh’s work, but phone numbers to Mrowat were disconnected, as were phone numbers I tracked down for family members who were said to have helped compile this initial information, circa 2007.

Photograph of two unknown women taken by Karimeh Abbud (Source: Issam Nassar, Jerusalem Quarterly Issue 46, p.23)

Photograph of two unknown women taken by Karimeh Abbud (Source: Issam Nassar, Jerusalem Quarterly Issue 46, p.23)

Karimeh’s name seemed to be one that everyone knew – but no one knew much about. One Palestinian photography collector let out a long sigh when I asked him what he knew of Karimeh’s work, citing that her reputation had been overblown – her studio photographs were nothing special, photographically speaking.  I disagreed – I had been attracted to Abbud’s photographs because those I had seen online seemed much more intimate than the stage-y, directed portraiture of Jerusalem photographers like Khalil Ra’ad.

Looking at photographs from Issam Nassar’s collection, reproduced here, the subjects of her photographs seem to exude a comfort, both with their partners and with the photographer herself – as though the taking of the picture is not a transaction, but instead a sort of collaborative effort. (Nassar has written further on Abbud in the larger context of Middle Eastern portraiture in the Jerusalem Quarterly, cited below).

That skeptical collector also put me in touch with Rev. Mitri Raheb, head of Bethlehem’s Evangelical Lutheran Church, and, as it turned out, Karimeh’s unintentional biographer.

This photograph printed on carte postale has the stamp of Karimeh Abbud. It was sent with a note on the back to Um Diabis Abbud on October 30th, 1930 from Dmitri, whose last name is not legible. (Source: Issam Nassar, Jerusalem Quarterly Issue 46, p.28)

This photograph printed on carte postale has the stamp of Karimeh Abbud. It was sent with a note on the back to Um Diabis Abbud on October 30th, 1930 from Dmitri, whose last name is not legible. (Source: Issam Nassar, Jerusalem Quarterly Issue 46, p.28)

Meeting with Rev. Raheb helped to set some things straight about Karimeh’s biography – his book, a limited-print run paperback written in Arabic and with a foreword by Ahmad Mrowat, charts her life through Lutheran church records. He sets a clear picture of her life’s trajectory, her family life, the chances afforded her by her family’s status, even her marriage – many things left out of any online articles. All of the context afforded by Rev. Raheb’s publication is important, especially when considering the style of Karimeh’s subjects and her mobility.

Undated image of Abbud Family Members, taken by Karimeh Abbud. (Source: Raheb, Karimeh Abbud, p. 45)

Undated image of Abbud Family Members, taken by Karimeh Abbud. (Source: Raheb, Karimeh Abbud, p. 95)

:Undated image of Abbud Family Members, taken by Karimeh Abbud. (Source: Raheb, Karimeh Abbud, p. 44)

Undated image of Abbud Family Members, taken by Karimeh Abbud. (Source: Raheb, Karimeh Abbud, p. 94)

The images in the book had come from two Abbud family photographic albums. These two undated images, taken by Abbud herself, are reproduced on pages 94 & 95 of Raheb’s publication and demonstrate Abbud’s signature portraiture environment – the women here are comfortable with each other, but also with Abbud’s presence. It is obvious in both images that their proximity to one another demonstrate a close relationship – most likely mother and daughters, and then the two sisters, alone – but we also see that Abbud treated her familial subjects in the same way she treated her paying clients, and vice versa – there is a warm professionalism that plays out in each of these different sets of images.

It is the foreword by Mrowat in this text that seemed curious to me, however. Where earlier articles by Mrowat stated he had acquired ‘some 400’ Abbud photographs from an Israeli photography collector, this text (published 2011) noted a legal case brought against him by the same Israeli collector. He states that the collector had no right to keep the photos, as he was not related to her in any way. This calls into question the amount of weight placed on earlier claims for the archive in his articles – who actually owned the pictures that were being written about, did the author have permission from the owner(s) to use them, and were the claims accurate? Does the Nazareth Archive Project exist outside of articles bearing its name?

There are many outstanding questions I am in the process of answering – beginning with gaining access to the ‘some 400’ photographs that were the subject of this legal case. A ‘Part 2’ will be forthcoming!

Further reading:

Mrowat, A. 2007. “Karimeh Abbud: Early Woman Photographer (1896-1955).” Jerusalem Quarterly 31: 72-78.

Nassar, I. 2011. “Early Photography in Palestine: The Legacy of Karimeh Abbud.” Jerusalem Quarterly 46: 23-31.

Raheb, M. 2011. Karimeh Abbud: Pioneer Female Phographer of Palestine. Bethlehem, Palestine: Diyar Consortium. Print. Arabic language.

The PEF is Camera Ready for Raising Horizons

By Amara Thornton, Leonora Saunders, Felicity Cobbing and Becky Wragg Sykes

Last month the four women behind Trowelblazers, a digital platform for crowd-sourced biographies of pioneering women in archaeology, geology and palaeonology, in collaboration with photographer Leonora Saunders launched a new project, Raising Horizons.  Supported by Prospect, Raising Horizons will feature a photographic exhibition, oral histories and associated events celebrating the long history of women working in these subjects.

Fourteen women actively working in archaeology, geology and paleontology today have been paired with a historical counterpart. Leonora and Trowelblazers have been working together to resurrect these historical women, creating new portraits as their modern ‘pairs’ represent them in costume. Their goal is to highlight the diversity of the fields today, and provide role models for younger generations while referencing and paying homage to the women who came before them.

One of the historic figures included is Kathleen Kenyon who as Director of the British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem led excavations at Jericho in the 1950s and Jerusalem in the 1960s. Kenyon is being portrayed by the archaeologist Shahina Farid, who as Field Director  conducted excavations at the site of Çatalhöyük, Turkey between the 1990s and 2012.  Both have been instrumental in training the next generation of archaeologists.

Final touches complete Shahina's Kathleen Kenyon 'look'. Courtesy of Leonora Saunders/Raising Horizons.

Final touches complete Shahina’s Kathleen Kenyon ‘look’. Courtesy of Raising Horizons.

Setting up the shot - getting ready to shoot Shahina as Kathleen. Courtesy of Leonora Saunders/Raising Horizons.

Setting up the shot – getting ready to shoot Shahina as Kathleen. Courtesy of Raising Horizons.

Close up shot of the PEF camera. Courtesy of

Close up shot of the PEF camera. Courtesy of Raising Horizons.

For the Farid/Kenyon portrait, the PEF loaned its Sands Hunter & Co camera with Zeiss lens which once belonged to the archaeologist John Garstang.  Garstang used it on site at Jericho in the 1930s, so the camera has historic significance for the portrait. His wife Marie Louise Bergès Garstang, who excavated alongside him after their marriage in 1907, is also represented in the archive. Their daughter Meroe Garstang – named after one of the most important sites her parents excavated – also joined them on site at Jericho.

Marie Garstang excavating at Jericho, 1931. (PEF-P-GAR-JER-J.31)

Marie Garstang excavating at Jericho, 1931. (Garstang archive, Palestine Exploration Fund)

Another fantastic photograph in the Liverpool University Garstang Museum shows Marie Garstang excavating with her husband at Meroe in Sudan where they worked in the years immediately before the First World War. His and hers pith helmets, placed side by side at the edge of the trench, echo their working relationship captured in the image.

A number of institutions are supporting the Raising Horizons project, but Trowelblazers is actively crowdfunding to enable the project to go on tour and support associated events in these locations.  A full list of institutional supporters can be found on Trowelblazers website – but you can help support the project at their Indiegogo page.  A range of bespoke rewards have been sourced to accompany donations.

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Rebecca Wragg Sykes, Brenna Hassett, Suzanne Pilaar Birch and Tori Herridge founded Trowelblazers in 2013. Find out more about them at Trowelblazers.com. Read more about Raising Horizons in the Guardian.

Watch the Raising Horizons Fundraiser video.

Discover the connections between Shahina Farid and Kathleen Kenyon.

Learn more about Leonora’s work at her website: http://www.leonorasaunders.co.uk/

Pilgrim Camps on the Hajj Roads to Mecca

By Claudine Dauphin

The Desert is green! My arrival in Jordan on 13th April 2016 coincided with hail, strong winds, lashing rain and intense cold, turning the semi-arid desert immediately south of Amman into a green carpet (Fig. 1). Courtesy of global warming, three days later, it was full Summer and a ‘‘baptism by fire’’ at 38°C in the shade for my first day of fieldwork on the camps of the Darb al-Hajj al-Shami, the ‘‘Syrian’’ Pilgrimage route running from Damascus to Mecca and bisecting Jordan lengthwise.

Fig. 1A green desert, mid-April 2016 (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

Fig. 1 A green desert, mid-April 2016 (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

Following the central ridge of Jordan, which was densely populated in Antiquity, the original ‘‘Mediaeval’’ road (7th-15th centuries) incorporated stretches of the Iron Age and Nabatean Kings’ Highway and of the Roman Via Nova Triana. It was replaced in the 16th century by the Ottoman route further east into the desert, with which the Hijaz Railway competed between 1900 and 1918 (Figs 2 and 3).

Fig. 2Hijaz Railway Mafraq Station (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

Fig. 2 Hijaz Railway Mafraq Station (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

Fig. 3Original Hijaz train carriage in wood, exhibited in the courtyard of The Jordan Museum, Amman (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

Fig. 3 Original Hijaz train carriage in wood, exhibited in the courtyard of The Jordan Museum, Amman (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

In 2014, I had followed the Ottoman Darb al-Hajj by taxi and on foot from Ramtha on the Syrian border southwards (425 kms or 264 miles), section by section between historically-attested stop-overs, whilst checking the changes in the landscapes pre-detected on geological and pedological maps, aerial photographs and Google Earth. This Spring, I put my steps into those of Ottoman pilgrims returning from Mecca, starting at the fort of Qala’at Mudawwara (Fig. 4) on the border with Saudi Arabia, thus reversing the order of the 12 stop-overs, and focused on the open-air encampments, which I had reconstructed on paper from the descriptions of 19th century travellers, J.L. Burckhardt and Ch. Doughty, Arab, Persian and Indian illuminated manuscripts and miniatures, and early photographs.

Fig. 4DAoJ surveyor Qutaiba al-Dasouqi looking down to the Ottoman fort of Qala’at Mudawwara. The pilgrim camp filled the vast expanse surrounding it (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

Fig. 4 DAoJ surveyor Qutaiba al-Dasouqi looking down to the Ottoman fort of Qala’at Mudawwara. The pilgrim camp filled the vast expanse surrounding it (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

How is it possible to locate the bases of tents and hearths in a wilderness of sand and rocks? Setting information, culled, with an official permit, in the archives of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan (DAoJ) against RAF 1953 aerial photographs provided by the Royal Jordanian Geographic Centre, I applied British methods of Historic Landscape recording and interpretation (walking the entire area, detecting features thanks to slanting afternoon light, recording by GPS, measuring, drawing and photography). DAoJ surveyor Qutaiba al-Dasouqi and I plotted access from the main Hajj road or via secondary paths, determined the extent of each camp and defined its natural limits (wadi or terracing), recorded hearths, traces of tents, enclosures for the camels, donkeys, mules and horses of the Hajj caravan, which in its 16th-18th century heyday, comprised some 60,000 pilgrims and 80,000 camels.

Fig. 5 Goats feeding on bushes on the Darb al-Hajj at Qala’at al-Hasa. The kerb is visible between the two goats (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

Fig. 5 Goats feeding on bushes on the Darb al-Hajj at Qala’at al-Hasa. The kerb is visible between the two goats (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

Most exciting was recording al-Hasa: under a blazing sun, walking across the Ottoman bridge, along the Hajj road with its revetment of pebbles and flint (Fig. 5), and its drainage system, past the Ottoman fort and onto the pilgrim camp, measuring the circuit wall of an immense camel enclosure, picking out the faint outlines of octogonal and rectangular tents between artemisia bushes, with a cooking-hearth outside the entrance of each tent, gave me a real sense of Time abolished, a feeling of reaching out to the daily routine of 18th century pilgrims on the Darb al-Hajj. My greatest reward, however, was the discovery of the actual Hajj road (Fig. 6) running past Qala’at Daba, between the pilgrim encampment (also a First) and the modern tarmac road, and uphill towards Zizya.

Fig. 6 View of Qala’at Daba from the just-discovered Hajj road in the foreground. Between it and the Ottoman fort, to the left, lay the pilgrim camp (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

Fig. 6 View of Qala’at Daba from the just-discovered Hajj road in the foreground. Between it and the Ottoman fort, to the left, lay the pilgrim camp (Photo and © C. Dauphin)

In comparison, the camps of the Mediaeval Darb al-Hajj were more difficult to reconnoitre and delimit securely, the majority of them having been absorbed by sprawling urbanisation (Ramtha, Qasr Shabib in Zarka, al-Thaniyya now part of al-Karak, and Zizya), which has eradicated nearly all evidence of pilgrims’ resting places. It required a much greater leap of imagination to give physical substance to descriptions of the camps by Mediaeval Hajj pilgrims, such as the famous Ibn Battuta (Tangiers 1304-Morocco 1368-69 or 1377) who travelled on the ‘‘Syrian’’ Hajj road in 1326.

As dusk fell on the faint traces of the pilgrim camps, the ears of my imagination could still hear the clatter of the cooking and eating in front of the tents, the growling of camels and the neighing of horses, donkeys and mules, as they settled down to sleep before yet another gruelling day’s walk to the next stop-over on the road to Mecca.

The Palestinian Museum in Ramallah

By Felicity Cobbing (Palestine Exploration Fund)

On Wednesday 18th May, the new state-of-the-art building of Palestinian Museum at Birzeit University in Ramallah was officially unveiled, and I was lucky enough to be one of those invited to the celebrations. The museum project began life in 1997 as an idea conceived by Taawon – Welfare Association, a not-for-profit organisation with members from across the Palestinian and Arab world, which supports numerous welfare and cultural projects of incredible diversity in Palestine and Arab communities in Israel. Originally the museum was envisaged as a response to the Nakba, or ‘Disaster’ of 1948, when hundreds of thousands of Palestinians were displaced, and many were killed during the birth of the state of Israel. However, over time, the idea grew to encompass a wider and more positive vision of Palestinian heritage throughout time.

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Panorama of the Palestinian Museum.

The Museum is situated on a 40,000 square metre plot of land donated to it by neighbouring Birzeit University on a long-term lease. It is funded entirely by several independent organisations, including Taawon and the Qattan Foundation. Currently, the museum building is just a building (albeit a rather beautiful one), which has raised eyebrows in some quarters. Some have questioned the wisdom of opening the building prior to having anything to show. However, talking to those involved, the pride in the achievement so far was palpable, and deserving of its own recognition. The opening of the building was a declaration to the world that Palestinians are capable of great things, despite the obstacles put in their path, and are worthy of ambitious and sophisticated projects such as this. The building is in itself is a huge statement of cultural intent. As Oliver Wainwright writing in the Guardian says, it is a “beacon of optimism”.

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The opening ceremony at the Palestinian Museum.

It is anticipated that the museum’s staff, led by its new Director, Dr. Mahmoud Hawari (formerly of the Khalili Institute in Oxford and the British Museum), will now work on building a programme of diverse exhibitions and events, working closely with other institutions both in Palestine and internationally. A satellite exhibition curated by Rachel Dedman entitled ‘At the Seams: A Political History of Palestinian Embroidery’ has already opened at the Dar el Nimer gallery in Beirut. Back in Ramallah, Dr. Hawari’s vision is to create a museum which enables everyone, including Palestinians, to see connections and continuities between the ancient past and the modern world. He is keen to build a non-nationalistic narrative, which is inclusive of the many diverse peoples and traditions of the region. The Palestinian Museum’s logo, a graphic speech bubble, is the perfect symbol to express this intent. This process is bound to take time, and is going to be a challenging balancing act for the new team to achieve.

From talking to people at the event, what was very apparent was the urgent need for a venue for young people in which to have a voice. The lack of safe spaces for Palestinians to express themselves artistically and creatively has been chronic, and it is envisaged that the new museum will provide such a venue for modern creative expression alongside the traditional idea of a museum as an exhibition space for displays of artefacts and art. If the Palestinian Museum can marry these different functions into a successful whole, then it could provide an interesting and innovative model for other museum developments internationally.

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The sun sets on the Palestinian Museum’s botanical garden.

Certainly, the 3,500 square metre eco-friendly building, designed by Dublin architectural firm Heneghan Peng has flexibility built in, with education space, an outside amphitheatre and terrace, and an extensive and beautiful terraced garden which links the new strikingly modern structure, with the limestone terraces of the surrounding hills. The garden is in itself an exhibit, featuring the rich botanical and agricultural heritage of the region, which The new building is itself a geometric take on the same terraces, and so the whole is a wonderfully conceived marriage between über modern design and ancient agricultural landscape, with a stunning view over the limestone hills of Palestine and Israel down to the Mediterranean cost and the high rise towers of Tel Aviv. An expansion of the existing building is envisaged in the future, possibly in other venues internationally, depending on the evolving needs of the museum and its visiting public.

A Visit to The Israel Museum

By Jamie Fraser (The British Museum)

While passing through Jerusalem in May, I managed a brief visit to The Israel Museum, currently celebrating its 50th year. Standing on the summit of a hill opposite the Knesset in West Jerusalem, the museum has an extensive archaeological wing containing materials spanning the early Stone Age to the Ottoman period, as well as wings for Jewish culture and contemporary art.

The promenade and water feature leading to the Israel Museum.

I last visited the Israel Museum in 2007, and recall vividly the thrill of standing in front of the famous Chalcolithic treasure hoard from Nahal Mishmar, including its spectacular copper sceptres and crowns. Now one of the museum’s most prized displays, the hoard was found in a cave above the Dead Sea, and probably constitutes the ritual paraphernalia cached from a temple at Ein Gedi nearby.

The 2010 refurbishments

The museum has since received a US$100 million refurbishment, mostly from private funds. I was surprised to see fewer objects on display, and sections once devoted to Judaica and Jewish ethnography are now housed in the wing devoted to “Jewish Art and Life”. The archaeological artefacts that remain are, however, better contextualized within broader themes such as the emergence of farming, or the development of written scripts.

These changes represent a significant shift in the museum’s philosophy, and have been driven by Director James S. Snyder. When Snyder walked into the museum in 1997, he found a collection that emphasised the “Land-of-Israel”. When he steps down in 2017, Snyder will leave galleries that instead explore the pluralities of “the Land” – a concept used extensively throughout the Museum’s English translations. As the New York Times reported upon the completion of the refurbishments in 2010:

today, here in the capital of the Jewish state, there is a tendency to see the world purely through Jewish history and culture. That is precisely what Mr Snyder…has sought to avoid. Rather, he has emphasized the commonalities of cultures and tries to place Jewish history and practices in a broader and clearer context”.

No better is this philosophy seen than in three reconstructed Byzantine structures, where part of a restored synagogue stands adjacent to both the apse of a church and the prayer niche of a mosque, emphasising distinctiveness and commonalities together.

Pharaoh in Canaan: The Untold Story

I was particularly keen to revisit the museum to view the current exhibition “Pharaoh in Canaan: The Untold Story”. Drawing on over 680 objects, this exhibition explores the often fractious relationship between Egypt and Canaan in the 2nd millennium BC. It focusses particularly on the Canaanite Hyksos dynasty that ruled the eastern Nile delta from c.1800-1550 BC, and on the heavy imperial response that followed, in which Canaan fell under Egyptian rule for 300 years. A particular highlight is the basalt stele of Seti I, which details the Egyptian victory over a Canaanite confederacy near Beth Shan, including a mysterious group of people called the apiru, which many scholars identify as a forerunner to the later Hebrew tribes.

The exhibition has generated considerable controversy for its treatment of the Exodus, the best known part of the Egyptian-Canaanite story. Strikingly, the gallery devoted to this issue stands empty. The lone exhibit is a short video display, in which the exhibition’s curator, Dr Daphna Ben-Tor, explains that the gallery is devoid of artefacts because there are simply no archaeological materials to support the Biblical account.

It is here, perhaps, that the museum’s philosophy under Snyder is most apparent. While the video does not accept the Biblical story, neither does it reject it completely; rather, it seeks to place the story within its historical and cultural contexts. Drawing on the familiar arguments of archaeologist Israel Finkelstein, the presentation looks to the expulsion of the Canaanite Hyksos tribes in c.1550 BC as the kernel of truth around with the Biblical Exodus myth would later accrete.

Nevertheless, this laudable appreciation for nuance and context contrasts a different story of competing narratives in a contested land. The exhibition includes several key pieces from the Rockefeller Archaeological Museum (formerly the Palestine Archaeological Museum) in East Jerusalem. The transference of these artefacts to the Israel Museum in West Jerusalem is controversial and breaches international law. While the Israel Museum explores for the first time the role of Pharaoh in Canaan, perhaps the greater “untold story” remains the stewardship of archaeological materials in occupied territorial zones.

The octagonal tower of the Rockefeller Museum in East Jerusalem.

The octagonal tower of the Rockefeller Museum in East Jerusalem.

Built during the British Mandate period, the Palestine Archaeological Museum also housed the Department of Antiquities.

Built during the British Mandate period, the Palestine Archaeological Museum also housed the Department of Antiquities. This incised sign is outside the entrance to the museum.