It’s time to build a new furnace! One of the great things about Vounous is that we have time, a luxury that I rarely have. Often I make a furnace and have to use it the next day and they day after it’s destroyed or buried so the site looks as if we’d never worked there. At Vounous, I can take the time to make a furnace, let it dry and use it year after year.
There was a sudden thunderstorm and everyone spent the day repairing dampened pottery. Since there wouldn’t be any exciting pyrotechnical fun, I’ll give a brief history of the symposium and how it all came about.
It’s the second day of the Vounous Symposium. I need a new set of pot bellows for casting bronze. Rauf Ersenal is making a pair based on ones that were excavated at Enkomi.
The annual Vounous Symposium is a 17 day long event where artists and archaeologists from around the world gather to collaborate and recreate the objects from Bronze Age Cyprus. During the symposium they will explore ancient techniques for making ceramics, metalworking, and other crafts.
This year I’ll be doing a video diary of the event.
I wanted to recreate one of the gold leaf crowns found in Cyprus. These date back to the Bronze Age there and have been found in burials. The one I chose to replicate is in the Güzelyurt Museum of Archaeological and Natural History, Northern Cyprus. The crown has ivy leaves, berries, and two tendrils.
The original was made of gold, however unable to afford that much gold, I used copper and gold leaf. I also did not create the wire or sheet from scratch. I had planned to make the berries using a dapping block, but a bout of Covid meant that I lost a couple of weeks of time to work on it, so instead I bought 8 mm copper beads.
Making the structure of the crown
The base of the crown was made from Copper Tube (5/32″ ID × 3/16″ OD(4-5mm)) that is commonly used for refrigerators. The original was made from two pieces that were overlapped and held together by wrapping with wire in two places at the back. Since I intended this to be worn, I wanted the crown to be as sturdy as possible, so used one piece of tubing. The original and the replica are both open at the front.
The first step was to drill holes in the tubing. Twenty-four leaves are concentrated along the sides and front. The leaves are in twelve pairs along each side.
The leaves were cut from 30-gauge (0.31mm) copper sheet. The metal was thin enough to be cut with a strong pair of scissors. Long stems were cut out extending from the leaves. The leaves were chased to imitate veins using a bronze hammer with a chisel shaped face. The stems were twisted and then were inserted into the holes and soldered in place.
The berries were put on stems by inserting 12-gauge (2.6mm) bronze wire into the bead and soldering at the top. The stems were then soldered in bunches. Tendrils were made of 18-gauge (1.2mm) wire and soldered into two of the clusters that would be placed at the front of the crown. Four clusters of berries were soldered to the front of the crown by inserting into drilled holes and the ends of the tubing. Two more clusters were inserted into holes along the sides, facing outward.
The soldering was at times frustrating. I would get several in place, and then a leaf halfway around the crown would fall off. I ended up soldering one or two leaves and then leaving it for a half an hour to cool down completely before continuing to add leaves.
Applying the gold leaf
Leaves were coated with thinned PVA glue and gold leaf applied directly using fine sable brushes and tweezers. One was used for applying the glue, while the other was kept dry to to smooth the gold leaf. Multiple layers were applied, with each layer coated with the thinned PVA glue and allowing to dry. Despite the layers, the chased details were still evident.
Transport
The crown was to be packed into my carry-on bag for the flight to Italy and then Cyprus. For that I needed to make a sturdy box and interior supports. A box and lid were constructed of carboard and hot glue. Inside, supports were made of bubble wrap and closed cell foam. Supports were placed in the four corners and the centre, so that the crown would not shift during transport. The interior was lined with crumpled Tyvek®. Tyvek® creates a smooth snag free, inert surface that is ideal for contact with delicate metal surfaces. The interior structure was fixed in place using hot glue.
Despite my worries, airport security and customs did not notice the crown and it arrived safely. It was presented to Şenol Özdeverim, Rauf Ersenal, and Celal Dimililer during a meeting at the Çatalköy Belediye. The crown will be worn at the opening ceremonies of the 5th Annual Vounous Symposium in September 2023.
At the 4th Annual Vounous Symposium (2022) we wanted to make a set of pot bellows, based on ones that were excavated at Enkomi, an archaeological site in North Cyprus where metalworking was performed in the Bronze Age.
The process began by coil building and paddling şamot, a heavily grogged clay. As the bellows were formed a ridge was put near the top. This will help hold the leather tops in place, and prevent them from slipping off while they are being used. A tube was added and a hole cut in the bottom. The tuyeres, the pipes that connect the bellows to the furnace will fit inside these. The bellows were fitted with a handle. The handles aren’t strong enough to use for lifting the bellows, but later we found that they came in useful for adjusting the position of the bellows when we were getting ready to start work.
Coil building the base of the bellows
Adding the ridge
The bellows were too large for the kiln, so part of the side was torn out in order to fit them in. The wall was replaced and the kiln was filled with smaller pieces of ceramics. We had a nervous evening because we were uncertain whether the bellows would survive the firing. The walls were heavy and thick and we hoped that they had dried sufficiently to prevent cracking. The kiln was a primitive two chamber type, typical of the Bronze Age in Cyprus. The ceramics are loaded into the top, which has a perforated floor. A fire is built in a pit outside of the lower chamber of the kiln. The chimney (which was extended upwards for this firing) creates an updraft, pulling the heat through the furnace. Normally the fuel would be put in the chamber underneath the kiln, but there was concern that the concentration of heat would crack the bases of the bellows since the heat would be unevenly distributed, concentrating on the bottom of the bellows. This unevenness of the heat would cause the firing to be uneven and result in the bellows cracking.
In the furnace
Firing the furnace
The next day they emerged perfectly fired. As soon as they were cool enough we put on the leather. The goat skins we bought were not large enough, so we used some soft cowhides. The hides are wrapped around the top of the bellows, with the edges overlapped by about 12 cm. When pulling up the overlap opens up and allows air in and then it closes on the downstroke. The result is a continuous and steady airflow. Thanks to Ergün Arda for his skills and expertise in making the pot bellows.
This is from a blog post I wrote in 2008. At the time I was working on my masters degree at the University of Sheffield. The Stonehenge Riverside Project excavations were ongoing and the cremated remains were brought back to the university for cleaning and analyses. There were other skeletons too, including Medieval burials dating from the Battle of Towton Fields. I was one of the volunteers who washed the bones.
Halloween is not a time for the telling of the stories macabre, but to light the candles for the dead. Come, mes amis, let us do so. – Hercule Poirot
I regularly come in early on Tuesdays and wash the bones from the Stonehenge excavation. The lab is usually quiet with people chatting occasionally, but mostly the few of us there are wrapped up in our work. For me it’s a time of meditation. Washing the small fragments of bones, I wonder about whose they were and and think about how fragile life is. Sometimes we talk about a skeleton whose joints are degenerated and painful to look at, or the skeleton of a small child who never got old enough to walk. There is the stereotype of scientists as being cold and uncaring, but it’s not a fair judgement. We think about the parents of the child who died so young, or how painful life must have been for others who were so old. The bones are handled with respect and all the care we would show our ancestors. In a way we are re-enacting our own modern version of ancient rituals. In the distant past some burials were reopened and the flesh carefully removed from the bones and were then coated with red ochre (which when mixed with water resembles fresh blood). Afterwards the bones were reinterred. I carefully wash the fragments of bone, hardened by fire but still so fragile, rubbing them gently with my fingers to loosen the mud.
I think about Buddhist monks who watch the exposed bodies of their masters decompose, slowly returning to the fields upon which they were laid. They also meditate on life and death, the temporary nature of the physical body, and to view the world with a detached nature.
As I wash the bones, I think about how so many things of the ancient past are now an intimate part of my present. I am living in an extraordinary mash-up of time. In the building where I wash these five-thousand year old bones, there is also state of the art equipment. My life is tied to ancient artefacts and modern technology. Trying to imagine the distance in time creates a wild mental pendulum that slows to its central point of now. All time is now and I am just quietly washing the mud off of bits of bone.
Back in my undergraduate days we learned about Iron Age torcs. They were massive golden things, symbols of power and prestige. What exactly that power was, we didn’t know. They were made, used, and buried in the ground by people who had no written record. Our assumptions about power rested mainly in our own sets of values. But they are gold, valuable, and precious. Then there are other things that are just as valuable and precious, but more intangible…
A few years ago Tess Machling contacted me. She knew me as a jeweler/metalsmith turned archaeologist who had a passion for hammers and manufacturing processes. She had some photos and asked me what I thought. No details, just a question about what technique I would use to make something, or what would have caused this sort of mark. I enjoyed the puzzles. I told her how one photo was of metal that had been cracked because the smith had hammered it too much and the metal was fatigued. Could it the result of casting? No, the edges were too sharp, a casting flaw wouldn’t have a crack formed like that. In a few days I’d learn that other metalsmiths she asked told her the same things. She and Roland Williamson, a metalsmith with a background in making museum replicas, were searching for answers, and questioned everyone they could contact. Eventually I learned that we were corresponding about Iron Age gold torcs. The questions she asked us were set up like a blind test to avoid any bias. It was accepted knowledge that torcs were cast in gold and in the course of her research she was coming to the realization that the accepted knowledge was wrong.
The problems with institutions is that they lumber along and have difficulty changing. Even if they want to change, it occurs slowly. Most of the torcs were excavated and interpreted by antiquarians and archaeologists who never worked with metal and never thought to talk to someone who did. In my own research, time and again I came across ‘facts’ that had been passed along from one publication down the line that were just plain wrong. Tess and I both knew what she was up against. The entrenched ideas of institutions and people who uphold them are just as precious as gold. To have these ideas questioned seemed as great as affront as taking the One Ring from Gollum and declaring that it would be thrown into the fires of Mount Doom. But sometimes ideas do need to be cast away. Not randomly, but through careful research, examination, experimentation, and always questioning. I know that early on Tess did have doubts, but she and Roland had so much hard evidence that it was impossible to accept the status quo. Their hard work is changing the way we understand how Iron Age torcs were made. By examining tool marks they are identifying different techniques and seeing the smiths’ hands at work. They have found repairs, retrofits, and an entire catalogue of metalworking tricks of the trade.
In the course of their work, they have published articles in the The Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society, The Journal of the Historical Metallurgy Society, and the Later Prehistoric Finds Group Newsletter. But research is never static, it is something that is forever evolving and growing. As we all learned through this process, entrenched knowledge is terribly difficult to dislodge, even when it’s been proven wrong. There is also a need for transparency in research, and a way for the public to learn and participate in the process, free from paywalls. By producing their new website and blog, The Big Book of Torcs, Tess Machling and Roland Williamson are presenting their work for everyone to read, and question. It’s a wonderfully informative publication with a good bit of humour that will be useful for both the layperson and the academic, not to mention aspiring metalworkers!
There’s a new podcast by The Prehistory Guys featuring my friend and fellow EXARC member Merryn Dineley, an archaeologist who specialises in ancient brewing and especially the process of malting. I’ve had some of the brews she’s made and will say that the ancient recipes produce some fine beer.
There’s a lot of useful information here for both brewers and archaeologists. She takes down some of the misconceptions about the old beer/bread debate, and tells us how not knowing the brewing process has led to some misidentification of archaeological features.
So open up a favourite beer, relax, and enjoy it while learning about its long and fascinating history!
I have a Patreon page where I post stories about my travels and experiences casting bronze around the world. Last year I was in Moscow for the Times and Epochs festival, casting bronze with local reenactors. I learned a lot, both about different ways to cast bronze, and also about Moscow and Russia. The story is being told in installments. The first two can be found here:
If you’re interested in reading more, there are both public posts and ones that are available to my Patreon subscribers. There are also other benefits for supporters, including copies of powerpoints and articles, or even postcards sent from wherever I travel. Check and out my Patreon page here and consider a small contribution to support my ongoing work in experimental archaeology.
