The Running Sands of Time: Archaeology and the Short-TermAuthor(s): Lin FoxhallSource: World Archaeology, Vol. 31, No. 3, Human Lifecycles (Feb., 2000), pp. 484-498Published by: Taylor & Francis, Ltd.Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/125114Accessed: 18/02/2009 15:58

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The running sands of time: archaeology and the short-ter

Lin Foxhall

Abstract

Social archaeology encounters a fundamental theoretical dilemma. The dynamic flow of social life is speedy. As the study of the past has increasingly shifted away from the elites, towards unravel- ling the ordinary patterns of everyday living, we are increasingly forced to confront the short-term time scales of lived reality.

The aim of this paper is to address the gap between the short-term time scales of lived life and the traditional interpretation of 'the archaeological record'. Time scales for the generation of archaeo- logical data for three historical Greek contexts will be examined: sanctuary sites, permanent struc- tures in rural landscapes and houses. The short-term patterns which led to the formation of these archaeological settings will be contrasted with the long-term patterns which archaeologists have frequently perceived. In conclusion I will outline interpretative strategies by which we might access the past in terms of the temporal processes through which archaeological contexts have originated.

Keywords

Greek archaeology; social theory; time.

Introduction

Archaeology and history have only recently discovered that time is something other than intellectual wallpaper. Time is so much part of the package of our fundamental assump- tions that it has been easy to take it for granted, without unwrapping that package and

looking at the individual bits and pieces inside. Traditionally, time has been considered

largely in terms of 'chronology' and 'periodization'. In recent years some archaeologists have built on the foundations laid by the Annales

historians and have focused on the 'longue duree', approaching the material record in terms of 'culture history' archaeology (Bintliff 1991; Knapp 1992; Hodder 1987a, 1987b). Perspectives which have stressed symbols, power and monumentality (Clarke et al. 1985; Thomas 1992) also highlight the long-term lives of archaeological remains. Postprocessual and related postmodern approaches which highlight contextuality (Thomas 1996; Hodder

World Archaeology Vol. 31(3): 484-498 Human Lifecycles ? 2000 Taylor & Francis Ltd 0043-8243

The running sands of time: archaeology and the short-term 485

1999) further develop the notion that the archaeological past is not fixed, and that mean-

ings are therefore not fixed in time. Still, the focus has remained on the great length of time between 'us' and 'them', including all the things that have happened in between.

While these approaches have led to major new insights over the last two decades, they also exacerbate a fundamental theoretical dilemma. The dynamic flow of social life is

speedy and its time scales are short-term. As the study of the past has increasingly shifted

away from the spectacular, the great and the good, towards unravelling the ordinary patterns of everyday living, 'life paths' (Thomas 1996: 82) and lifecycles, as archaeologists we are increasingly forced to confront these short-term time scales of lived reality. Yet as a discipline we have not yet devised adequate hermeneutic tools for this task.

The lifecycles of artefacts, structures and spaces are entwined with the lifecycles of humans. 'Lifecycle' is potentially a misleading expression, since it could be understood to

imply that social life is governed by repeated but static underlying patterns, but it is hard to think of a better term. Lifecycles and life stages of things and the people associated with them are not fixed or evolutionary, though they may be recognizably (if not entirely regularly) patterned. They are certainly fundamentally dynamic. Even when there are

recognizable similarities, lifecycle/stage thresholds may vary in their impact. Reaching sexual maturity or growing old is not the same for a slave as for a member of the elite, or for a marriageable man as for a woman destined for celibacy. Tracking the material culture of life stages is therefore complex, in part because objects themselves may be more perma- nent than any of the rapidly changing meanings attributed to them. A toy trolley may linger long after children have stopped playing with it, then be put to use in the garden. A cot for one's own baby will later be used for visiting babies and then for visiting grand- children.

The aim of this paper is to address this gap between the short-term time scales of lived life and the traditional interpretation of 'the archaeological record'. I shall examine the range of time scales for the generation of archaeological data through three contexts where short-term time scales can be shown to have had considerable impact on the formation of material record: sanctuary sites, permanent structures in rural landscapes and houses. Here I particularly want to highlight the short-term patterns which led to the formation of these archaeological contexts, in contrast with the long-term patterns which archaeologists have frequently assumed they were seeing. In conclusion I will outline interpretative strategies through which we might access the past in terms of the temporal processes through which archaeological contexts have originated. The examples I have used are drawn from ancient Greece, but similar theoretical disjunctures can be found in other branches of archaeology as well. What offsets some of these problems for Greece is the existence of a huge body of literary and documentary sources which provides another, very different, source of poten- tial understandings (and misunderstandings) of the temporal contexts of the past.

Time scales on the ground: the interplay of the long-term and the short-term on sanctuary sites

Whether consciously or not, archaeologists conceptualize their finds, at least for the purpose of presenting an archaeological narrative, as 'events'. Such 'events' might include

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destruction levels, building phases, changes in style or custom. Historical and archaeo- logical 'events' are not the same. The former, though they vary widely in scale, ranging from a war to the birth or death of an individual, consist of waypoints highlighted and mapped onto the flow of human activity. An 'archaeological event', which we can perceive and document, is differently constructed. Frequently, it is an aggregate of small-scale, short-term acts performed in the course of everyday living. Often - and this is where there is considerable scope for ambiguity - we look at that aggregate and interpret it as a unified long-term process. In the end, that may well be correct at one level. But it seems to me dangerous to make that interpretative leap without examining the short-term contexts in which data were generated.

There are, certainly, long-term time scales, which, in part, drive the accumulation of the material cultural record. Though small, this part is highly visible, indeed monumental, inspired as it is by culturally-specific notions of posterity. Though not the main focus of this paper, it is worth noting that elements of the monumental can be combined with the artefacts of acts on other time scales. So, for example, the fifth-century BC sculpted pedi- ment of the Temple of Zeus at Olympia, by Pheidias, is unquestionably monumental. It

is, however, set in the context of artefacts which are not: the heaps of small votives deposited and re-deposited all over the sacred precinct (including inside the temple itself) and the animal bones representing the remains of innumerable sacrifices. Many votives dedicated in Greek sanctuaries consisted of ephemeral items, by their very nature lacking in monumentality. For example, it was common practice (especially for women) to dedi- cate items of clothing in the shrines of certain deities, in particular, Artemis, Hera and some cults of Athena (Linders 1972; Foxhall and Stears 2000) (Fig. 1). All of these things represent the aggregate of innumerable individual acts of worship. Most of them were prompted by short-term motivations. Though we may be able to unravel some of these motivations on the basis of the archaeological evidence, we should not assume that in such contexts typological parity equals identical inspiration or behaviour. For example, the lead figurines of hoplite soldiers at the Spartan sanctuary of Artemis Orthia (Fig. 2a) are normally associated with men's cult activity, connected with Sparta's well-known mili- tarism (e.g. Osborne 1996: 183-5). However, given the number of 'feminine' offerings at the sanctuary, including lead models of cloth and clothing (Fig. 2b) and weaving equip- ment, it could be suggested that, while some might certainly be men's dedications, others might be women's dedications on behalf of special men.

Though votives are sometimes inscribed, the majority are not. It is significant that few dedicatory inscriptions reveal the motive for the dedication. Inscriptions most often consist simply of the name of the deity in the dative or genitive case (indicating 'to' or 'belonging to' the god). Sometimes in addition (or, more rarely, instead), the name of the dedicator appears. Even on the inventory lists (Fig. 1) where the name of the dedicator usually appears, no motive is recorded, though the general meaning might have been clear to an ancient observer who could 'read' the symbolic nuances more precisely than we can. Declaring the motive in prayer was part of the act of worship in which the dedication was made, and, for the immortal gods, this was probably sufficient as far as most Greeks were concerned. Human readers were thus irrelevant to the motive, though they might be relevant to underpinning the social standing of the dedicator (hence the appearance of his or her name, especially on rich dedications). Writing the name of the god ties the object

The running sands of time: archaeology and the short-term 487

Archippe [dedicated] a spotted sleeved [garment] in a box. In the archonship of Kallimachos {349/8 BC}. Kallippe [dedicated] a spotted?/multicoloured scalloped chitoniskos {short thin dress}, this has letters woven on it. Chairippe and Eukoline dedicated a [spotted garment] in a box. Philoumene [dedicated] a chiton {long thin dress} made from amorgis. In the archonship of Theophilos {348/7 BC}. Pythias [dedicated] a spotted xystis {long heavy dress}. In the archonship of Themistokles {347/6 BC}. Thyaine and Malthake dedicated a purple spotted/ decorated chitoniskos in a box. Euko- line dedicated a purple spotted/decorated chitoniskos in a box [-?]. Phile [dedicated] a zoma {girdle}. Pheidylla [dedicated] a woman's white himation {heavy cloak} in a box. Mneos [dedicated] a frog-green [garment]. Nausis [dedicated] a woman's himation with a broad purple [?] wavy band. Kleo [dedicated] an ampechone {fine shawl}.

Figure 1 Translation of a portion of the inventories of dedications to Artemis Brauronia. (IG II2

1514.7-18). Phrases in [] represent damaged or missing words, those in {} are explanations and comments.

a

Figure 2 Lead figurines from the sanctuary of Artemis Orthia, Sparta. a) Hoplite soldiers. b) Model textiles (after Dawkins 1929).

to the location of the sanctuary itself as well as to the correct deity (since many sanctuar- ies housed shrines to several different divine beings).

Even when it comes to consulting oracles, individuals generally seem to have had short- term motivations. The oracle at Delphi is most frequently associated with large-scale deci- sions with long-term effects (though not necessarily long-term motivations), such as the

founding of colonies by figures who had become legends by the time literary sources appear. By the classical period most Delphic consultations were by states, not ordinary individuals, and our information about these transactions with the divine are largely preserved in these

b

488 Lin Foxhall

God. Good Fortune. About communality, the Korkyreans (address) Zeus Naios and Dione; to which of the gods and heroes should they pray and make sacrifices so that they might all agree about what is good? (Carapanos 1878: 72, no. 5)

Lysanias asks Zeus Naios and Dione whether or not the baby which Nyla is bearing is his. (Cara- panos 1878: 75, no. 11)

Agis requests Zeus Naios and Dione, about his bedspreads and cushions, did he lose them, or did some outsider steal them? (Carapanos 1878: 75, no. 10)

Rev: about shepherding Obv.: He asks and calls upon Zeus and Dione if it would be marketable and profitable for him to be a shepherd? (Carapanos 1878: 80, no. 21)

Figure 3 Questions to the oracle of Zeus at Dodona.

less than reliable literary sources. In contrast, at the sanctuary and oracle of Zeus at Dodona

questions asked by both states and more ordinary people, written on rolled lead tablets

(Fig. 3), indicate the immediacy and short-term nature of the situations which led to the

queries (Carapanos 1878; Roberts 1880; Nichols 1958). The reason the motivations are, most unusually, recorded in writing at Dodona is because writing was the prescribed means of communication with the god for much of the history of the sanctuary.

Virtually all of these requests are firmly rooted in the ephemera of human lifecycles, even in the contextual setting of a sanctuary where the cosmic and the social intersect. It is largely the short- and medium-term future which was of interest to these worshippers, including those making their requests as a civic community. In contrast, the archaeologi- cal interpretation of most Greek sanctuary sites (especially oracles) focuses almost exclu-

sively on the monumental, and the long-term impact and uses of them. We could easily be misled by contemplating a 'long-term trend' which in fact consists of an agglomeration of small, short-term events - individual acts of worship stemming from a myriad of motives. These need not be evenly distributed within that 'long-term trend', temporally or in any other sense.

Archaeological interpretation and short-term time scales: seasonality, periodicity and the rural landscape

There are many kinds of activities with short-term temporal contexts which influence, indeed, muddy, the archaeological record. From the archaeologist's point of view, recog- nizing their existence can complicate interpretation. These include seasonal, daily and

lifestage variations in activity patterns, and all of these may be further subject to temporal structures imposed by political and religious structures. An example has already been encountered in the discussion of votives above: dedications in Greek sanctuaries are likely to be made more frequently at some periods than at others (e.g., during major religious festivals, which may be concentrated into a short period annually, every four years or on some other cycle). Thus the production and distribution of the black-figured amphorae associated with the quadrennial celebration of the Greater Panathenaia in Athens must

The running sands of time: archaeology and the short-term 489

have worked to a four-year cycle which cannot be distinguished in the archaeological record.

Of all these short-term temporal patterns, only seasonal activities have received much attention from archaeologists, and even then from a largely 'environmental' rather than a

temporal point of view. Generally archaeologists have resorted to seasonality as an area of enquiry (or as an explanation) worthwhile for the most part where archaeological data are in short supply and/or where the society concerned is perceived as being particularly strongly shaped by environmental factors, notably hunter-gatherer and 'pastoral' societies

(which have also been regularly perceived as 'other' and 'primitive'). The archaeology of

pastoral sites and the identification of pastoral, seasonal settlements has long been a contentious issue and the debate continues (Chang and Koster 1986; Cribb 1991). It is

extraordinary, then, that seasonality almost vanishes as a significant aspect of interpreting site functions and landscape configurations as soon as archaeologists (and historians) are

dealing with a 'sophisticated', 'civilized' society like ancient Greece. That this is the case

despite the wide recognition that classical Greece was strongly geared towards seasonal modes of behaviour in agriculture, warfare, religion and even politics makes its absence or, in some cases, dismissal from archaeological interpretation all the more extraordinary.

So, for example, there has been a tendency in recent field-survey studies to highlight the 'dispersed' or 'nucleated' character of Greek landscapes, and to focus on these charac- teristics as an indication of population size and distribution, with economic and social

implications (Halstead 1987; Whitelaw 1991: 416-17, 453-4). But the complex temporal- ity of many seasonally directed behaviours (and by this I do not want to imply that they are 'environmentally determined') makes for a more complex habitation pattern, and therefore taphonomy, of the Greek landscape (cf. Osborne 1985).

Towers, sizeable structures with distressingly few associated datable artefacts, fit neither a nuclear nor a dispersed settlement pattern (cf. Osborne 1986) (Plate 1). Much ink has been spilt on the functions of these structures and no satisfactory overall explanation exists (Osborne 1986; Cherry et al. 1991b: 285-98). At one level they are plainly monu- mental, proclaiming the prominence within the landscape of an individual, a family or an institution, or the status of a structure such as a 'farmhouse' (as in the case of the Vari House, Fig. 7). In practical terms, they fit more than one pattern in relation to the seasonal use and occupation of the countryside. Most likely they were the focus of a number of different activities, for example, guarding the harvest and the harvesters (many of whom were slaves or other kinds of dependants), watching for invading summer-time armies, keeping an eye on animals grazing fallow and their keepers, and storage. All of these func- tions might (or might not) be carried out by different people (or the same people acting different roles). They probably happened at different times of year, or even in different years in a slightly larger-scale temporal pattern. The crucial point is that towers might be more happily accommodated in interpretative models of the Greek countryside if we consider their practical functions as part of a range of short-term temporal contexts, distinct from the long-term spatial contexts of their monumental setting.

Pursuing the same line of argument, the interpretation of isolated 'farmstead' sites, so much a part of classical Greek landscapes as revealed by survey, has been fraught with problems, some of which are related to time scale. In a number of published surveys these sites are crucial to arguments about population over the long term (Cherry et al. 1991a:

490 Lin Foxhall

Plate 1 Classical period tower, Methana.

337-40). Often, settlement in the archaic period is presented as largely 'nucleated', while that in Classical/Hellenistic times is presented as 'dispersed' (Jameson et alo 1994: 374-5, 384-5; Mee and Forbes 1997: 60, 66-7). For the latter period, literary and epigraphical sources suggest that many Greek farmers worked fragmented holdings from a village- or town-based residence (Osborne 1985). Though few 'farmsteads' have been excavated, the Dema and Vari houses were continuously occupied for only a generation or two, despite their substantial and 'permanent' construction (Jones et al. 1962, 1973).

Generally archaeologists are aware that the data by which sites are assigned to periods are crude, and cannot be used to pinpoint a precise period of occupation. Nonetheless, they persist in presenting their interpretations as if the spatial distribution of sites on a

map implies that all were inhabited contemporaneously. One of the clearest examples of this is the analysis of the Late Classical/Early Hellenistic farmstead 'territories' postulated by the Southern Argolid (Jameson et al. 1994: 385-91, fig. 6.20) (Fig. 4). Though the sites are broadly contemporary, it is in fact impossible to ascertain that all were simultaneously occupied. For any five- to ten-year slice of the whole period it is likely that only some of these sites would have been in use, and it is probable that type and intensity of use also

changed rapidly over the lifetime of each of these sites. Few of the sherds on which site chronology is based in survey can be pinned down to

within a generation. The Keos survey project was particularly explicit about this problem. The investigators are frank in demonstrating the imprecision of their ceramic data (Cherry et al. 1991a: 329-31). Out of the total of thousands of sherds collected by the survey, only eighty-four can be dated with certainty to within a single century. This generally works out

The running sands of time: archaeology and the short-term 491

Figure 4 Late Classical/Early Hellenistic farmstead sites and 'territories' in the Southern Argolid (after Jameson et al. 1994: figs. 6.17, 6.20).

to fewer than ten sherds per century, and for the Classical period (fifth-fourth centuries BC) there are only sixteen sherds securely dated to within 100 years (Fig. 5). Yet, what we know about land use, and the transmission of land and property through inheritance and other

processes in ancient Greece, combined with the evidence from excavated 'farmhouses', suggests that such resources as these sites represent might be changing hands as often as once a generation, or even more rapidly. There is an intellectual sleight of hand here: spatial distribution constructed on the basis of one (longer-term) time scale has been translated into a much shorter-term temporal phenomenon. More simply, spatial distribution has been transformed into temporal unity. The transformation is in part encouraged by the device

through which archaeologists display site data: the two-dimensional map.

Archaeological interpretation and short-term time scales: daily patterns and life stages

The archaeological impact of daily and life-stage time scales has rarely been explored, despite the fact that the archaeological investigation of domestic space has become an

important area of archaeological investigation. It is here that the aggregate of quotidian behaviours and activities can be most dramatically misinterpreted if their remains are read

492 Lin Foxhall

17

16

14 -- ------- - -- - - ---- ------ --_ . __ ___- - - __ . .

12 12 12-

1- 1 -- -------- --- -----------_-------- s 10 1--

2 1 Or -- ,

7th cBC 6th cBC 5th c BC 4th c BC 3rdcBC 2nd cBC stBC 1st c AD 2nd c AD 3rd c AD 4th c AD 5th c AD 6th c AD 7th c AD

Figure 5 Keos Survey: numbers of sherds which can be securely dated to within a century (after Cherry et al. 1991: 331, fig. 17.2).

amorphously as a long-term trend. Indeed, in very few excavated houses can continuous occupation be demonstrated for more than about a century, and most were in use for much shorter periods. The archaeological interpretation of Greek houses, with their associated written sources, offers a particularly useful setting for examining these short- term behaviours.

Since the early excavations of Greek houses, attempts have been made to assign func- tions to rooms (Robinson and Graham 1938: 167-213) and, more recently, the separation (or not) of gendered activities has promoted much discussion (Walker 1983; Jameson 1990a, 1990b; Ault 1994: 252-4; Nevett 1994, 1995). Generally these attempts have not been very successful or very convincing. Nevett (1995: 366-7, 374, 381) has pointed out that part of the problem is that the excavators of domestic houses have not noted the precise locations of small finds, which might give a clue as to the gendered use of rooms. It is not clear, however, that better-quality data hold the solution to the problem of 'room function'. The Dema House and Vari House are Attic country houses of the Classical period, excavated to a reasonably high standard in the 1960s (Jones et al. 1962, 1973). All small finds were recorded and all pottery recovered was noted. Though exact find-spots are often not specified in the publication, it is possible to locate the find-spots of a considerable amount of the pottery and small finds with reasonable certainty (Figs 6 and

7). It is clear that most domestic accoutrements were removed when the house was aban- doned, including even the roof tiles in the case of the Dema House. What remains gives a very mixed message: fragments of the same artefact are often widely scattered across the house, perhaps as the result of post-occupation activity. Fixed room functions and the gender/status, etc., of those who used the house cannot be easily deduced from the distri- bution of artefacts in these houses. Even activities such as cooking appear to have no fixed location. Clusters of finds appear most often where objects were likely to have been stored, or, as in the case of large storage jars, permanently fixed in place.

The running sands of time: archaeology and the short-term 493

M = marble louterion fragments T = terracotta louterion fragments Pithoi = 5

L= loomweight S = spindle whorl B = bathtub (25 widely scattered fragments)

Pipe

0 1 5 10 15 20 25 30 m

2 281 m internal area

130 m without VIII + X

vm + X = 53% of total space VIII = 40% of total space

Figure 6 The Dema House: approximate findspots of artefacts (based on Jones et al. 1962: 76,

The same trend towards the apparently random distribution of what ought to be socially significant artefacts appears in Greek houses on other sites as well. At Olynthus, loom

weights were found in nearly every room in small quantities (Robinson and Graham 1938:

209; Cahill 1991: 341-3). Around 180 rooms had seven or fewer loom weights in them, but

only a few rooms had ten or more loom weights. Such a distribution does not suggest that

every room where a loom weight was found was a 'weaving room'. It might suggest that such rooms may have been used for weaving sometimes, and that looms were not perma- nent fixtures. It might also suggest that loom weights were multi-functional. Similarly, although most Olynthian houses had 'kitchens' with permanent hearths, these were prob- ably for heating, no surprise given the cold winters of northern Greece, and there is no evidence that they were used for cooking (Cahill 1991: 331). Though many had areas adja- cent to them identified by the excavators as 'flues', where the remains of cooking are some- times found, these were plainly also used for activities other than cooking (Cahill 1991:

322-3). Even at Olynthus, a significant number of houses had no evidence of a permanent cooking place, whether 'flue', hearth or 'kitchen', or even brazier (Cahill 1991: 323-4).

Attempts by Cahill (1991) and others (cf. Nevett 1995: 375) to determine room func- tion from artefact assemblages have proven inconclusive. Nevett (1995: 373-4, 380) has

pointed out some of the nuances of behaviour which might have constructed 'female'

space in Olynthian houses, concluding that the critical division for the use of space might have been between household members and visitors.

494 Lin Foxhall

stonetition XII

trfnd ou tside house

0 1 2 5 10 15 20m

S = 5th c. sherds C = 4th - 3rd c.coin S = 4th c. sherds B = Byzantin e coin & sherds P = Pithos fragments L = bead 'pot mend'

1 = Rolled and pierced lens sheet

Figure 7 The Vari House: approximate findspots of artefacts (based on Jones et al. 1973: 362, fig.2).

Cahill's description of his methodology and his analysis of 'The House of Many Colours' (a particularly well-preserved wealthy dwelling) demonstrate how problematic the search for fixed room functions is (Cahill 1991: 264-81). Rooms on the upper floor appear to have had almost nothing in them (1991: 279-80). On the ground floor, the range of pottery types varied very little between rooms, and almost no pottery was found in areas identified on architectural grounds as the kitchen and the 'andron' (men's dining room), where one might expect it. However, a large cache of 'tableware' and loom weights was discovered in a room which appeared to be undergoing redecoration at the time of destruction (Cahill 1991: 518, fig. 64). This might be most easily explained if the room were used for the storage of items not in current use, perhaps placed on wall-mounted shelves. It is difficult to resolve the observed distribution of artefacts with Cahill's conclusion that domestic activities 'seem to be fairly strictly spatially organised' (1991: 281). Rather, as with the Dema and Vari houses, excavation appears to pick up evidence for where objects

PU

The running sands of time: archaeology and the short-term 495

were stored best of all. Secondarily, it reveals a confused and fragmentary mixture of different kinds of activities spread unevenly throughout domestic space.

The ambiguity of artefact assemblages in these houses may, however, be related to the

multiple overlay of routine ephemeral activities organized temporally. Jameson has

suggested that, although literary sources may appear to assign specific functions and

genders to rooms within houses, these designations are very fluid. For example, many sources talk about 'men's quarters' and 'women's quarters', and attempts have been made to identify these archaeologically (Walker 1983) or to explain why they are not archaeo-

logically visible (e.g. women's quarters were on second storeys which do not survive). In

fact, these terms may well refer to sleeping quarters, especially for slaves (Jameson 1990a). Ordinary Greek beds (in contrast with couches) were more like sleeping bags or pallets. Most likely they were rolled up and put away during the day so that sleeping space could be used for working and living space. It is also likely that sleeping quarters changed seasonally, to warmer or cooler spots as appropriate, as well as with circumstances. In one law-court speech (Lysias 1), for example, a wife with a new-born baby is described as

sleeping not with her husband upstairs, but downstairs with the baby and slave nursemaid so she can feed it. Within these houses, relatively small in relation to the number of people living in them (c. 290m2, Nevett 1995: 367; Dema house: 362 m2 ext., 281 m2 int.; court-

yard area 151 m2), strict status and gender separation defined spatially was probably phys- ically impossible. Short-term temporal divisions in the use of space might hence be

particularly important for maintaining important social boundaries, in conjunction with

body movements, clothing, gesture and so forth. Greek domestic material culture was highly portable. Fixed hearths and 'kitchens' are

unusual. Cahill (1991: 332-5), though looking for fixed activity areas, noted that the archaeological evidence at Olynthus of the mixed activities which appear to have occurred in 'kitchens' suggests seasonal movement in the use of space. Furniture was lightweight. Even the elegant couches for dining (also used as beds) were relatively portable and might be moved into a courtyard. Looms, too, can be relatively easily assembled and dismantled. Generally, room 'function' here is better explained in temporal, rather than spatial terms.

Conclusions

Here I have examined three different kinds of archaeological contexts - sanctuary sites, permanent structures in the rural landscape and houses - where short-term activities have largely formulated the material remains.

On the whole, the time scales which archaeologists have traditionally been most comfortable using (e.g. those of artefact typologies, 'periods', etc.) are longer and less differentiated than the social time scales in which the archaeological record was created in the first place. It is important to ask if we can pick out these patterns of short-term social life in the material record, because such patterns were instrumental in formulating it. I offer the following as general guidelines.

1 A relative lack of artefactual material might suggest seasonal or some other kind of short-term behaviour associated with a site. This is hardly a revolutionary suggestion, and it has been regularly offered to explain pastoralist sites. More significantly, as the example of towers has shown, such uses need not be, in a narrow environmental sense,

496 Lin Foxhall

'seasonal'; they can also be 'periodic', i.e. happening on a regular basis, but not necess- arily in direct connection with a 'natural' cycle. Such short-term uses may serve a number of functions. Periodicity in this broad sense need not be limited to the season- ality of those living at the economic and environmental margins.

2 Numerous repeated instances of the same or similar artefacts in the same/similar context might suggest a number of small, 'individual' acts, the agglomeration of which constitutes the archaeological record. This is the votives-in-sanctuary pattern. Lots of people perform a small act which leaves archaeologically discernible traces, although the motivations for the behaviour (in this case a votive act) may be quite varied. A lot of people doing the same thing with slight variations over time looks on the ground like a trend. I think this can be misleading when we do not know the motivations, as they are likely to vary, one from another.

3 Assemblages of artefacts which appear to cross the boundaries of age, class, gender and status might signify a multiplicity of short-term uses of a single space. I have focused in some detail on Greek domestic space here. But I could have as easily used public space as an example. Greek fountain houses are usually located in main market areas - arche- typally male space. Might they have been used most at times when the men were least likely to be busy in the agora?

4 The heuristic devices we as archaeologists so often use: the two-dimensional map or plan, enable us to slip easily, and perhaps unconsciously, into confusing spatial distri- bution with temporality. This is because the time scales underpinning maps and plans (based on excavation and survey data) are longer-term and less finely tuned than the times scales of the social processes which created the data in the first place. There is no easy answer to this one. The ability to generate more sophisticated visual models (e.g. 3-D) on computer may help in due course. Most important is probably the critical reading of maps and plans not as 'data' but as 'interpretation'.

The short-term time scales of social life are flexible and ephemeral, but must nonetheless have a significant impact on the archaeological record. In many instances they must indeed constitute the main temporal context for the formation of sites and landscapes from the time scale of lived reality.

School of Archaeological Studies University of Leicester

Note

This paper went to press before the publication of Lisa Nevett's book House and Society in the Ancient Greek World (1999, Cambridge University Press) so I have not been able to consult it.

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