Experimental production of stone tools

Category: Thoughts (Page 2 of 3)

On the value of reflective learning

I am leading seminars at the moment on an undergraduate second year module at Chester called ‘Communicating the Past’. To complete the module, students have to produce a 1000 word essay discussing the academic sources used for a proposed Key Stage 2 primary school children’s prehistoric activity. They also need a 2000 word plan for the primary school teachers, showing how the children’s activity works, and fits within the curriculum. Finally, they need to produce a 1000 word reflective piece outlining what the students themselves have learnt from the process. I want to use this post to illustrate why I find reflective learning a valuable tool at all stages of the academic process, and beyond.

To do so, I am going to use an activity I have developed for undergraduate archaeology students to introduce them to the stone tool making process. This 50 minute activity involves around 15 students each making a flint scraper and it is assumed they have no prior knowledge of the process. Having run this session over a number of years, it was only at the most recent session at Manchester where a discussion with a student made me reflect and then rethink and develop my understanding of the teaching process.

To link with the module outcomes necessary at Chester, I have broken this discussion down to consider three key elements:

  • The value of academic texts
  • Explaining a curriculum activity
  • Reflecting on, and learning from the process

For the purposes of this blog post, I am going to start with the activity plan and how I relate it to an undergraduate archaeology curriculum.

My activity plan and how it relates to the archaeology curriculum

I primarily use this activity to introduce the students to the bodily process of making a flint scraper. However, it is also useful on a number of other levels. In particular: as an introduction to the terminology associated with a flint flake; to understanding the relationship between material, kinetic energy and angles within the making process; but also to show how our modern western understanding of a scraper is both historically and culturally situated. These elements feed into undergraduate archaeology modules at both Manchester and Chester (e.g. Doing Archaeology 2, HI4001) and within the actual session I deal with the theoretical bit at the beginning using three Powerpoint slides.

Figure 1. Francois Bordes and a Culture History approach

This first slide (Figure 1.) references the 1950s work of French prehistorian and flint knapper, Francois Bordes, who saw a particular type of scraper, in this instance one he categorised as a Quina scraper, as representative of a particular Neanderthal group. I use this slide to illustrate the ‘Culture History’ approach to interpreting artefacts.

Figure 2. Harold Dibble and the Processual approach

The second slide (Figure 2.) references the 1970s work of the American flintknapper and researcher Harold Dibble. Dibble was interested in the life cycle of the scraper, in particular how the shape changes as the scraper is used, and then resharpened (see illustrations on the right hand side of the slide). He used the fact that shape was dynamic and not static to argue that it was not so useful to think of scrapers as typological signifiers for culture groups. I use this example to illustrate a ‘Processual’ approach to archaeology.

Figure 3. Anthropology and an Aboriginal Australian approach

The third slide (Figure 3.) takes an anthropological perspective, and looks at how Australian Aboriginals would be concerned not with shape, but things like material colour and texture, as well as edge angle. As the slide outlines, totemic ties, kinship relations and what the scraper was designed to be used for, these were the issues an Aboriginal would be looking at.

After ticking the ‘academic box’ we move onto the making process. I direct the students to the necessary protective equipment before providing a demonstration. I select a large flake so everyone can see my process, and explain the difference between the smooth ventral and scarred / cortical dorsal surface. After highlighting the platform and bulb of percussion, I use a felt tip pen to draw the desired scraper shape onto the ventral face, with the bulb of percussion as the potential ‘handle’ (Figure 4.).

Figure 4. A large flake with scraper shape outlined using felt tip pen

I then select a hammer stone, show the correct angle to hold the flake, ventral surface uppermost, and start taking removals from the edges, moving towards the central felt tip outline. As I encounter thicker areas, I draw attention to how the sound changes, and then provide a discussion of how to hit things effectively. Once the desired shape has been achieved, I use a coarse sandstone to abraid away any sticky out bits. Finally, I demonstrate scraper use on a thin birch branch removing the bark. After the demonstration, the students select their own flint flake and hammerstone and then have a go.

Reflecting upon what I have learned from this process

Going around the students, I check where they are up to and help them overcome any difficulties, such as how to hit harder or more accurately. One student had finished his scraper and scraped the branch, but I could see his scraper was blunt, and the edge he had produced was not at an ideal angle for scraping. My diagnosis was that he had held the flake at an incorrect angle when making the scraper. This was not the end of the world as we could remedy this when he re-sharpened it. However, it made me start to think. I learnt how to make a scraper from the professional flint knapper, Karl Lee, and he emphasised the angle at which to hold the flint flake to produce a useful scraper. As discussed above, I have repeated this instruction to students over the years but without considering the Aboriginal perspective that I present at the beginning of the session (figure 3). I have unconsciously absorbed the idea that there is one correct angle to hold the flake in order to make a scraper. However, if the slide about Aboriginal knappers that I present is correct, then there must be more than one way of holding the flint flake in order to get more than one edge angle. Why had I not recognised this before? Probably because I am not using scrapers in practice and so I am not so knowledgeable about the different uses, and therefore the various edge angles.

The academic sources I am using

This leads to the interesting bit. Because I have been delivering this session over a number of years, I could not remember where I had read about the Aboriginal perspective on scrapers. This is obviously a missing component that could really enrich my session, so I am now at the stage of having to find out more information. Being a big fan of the social aspects of archaeology, my first step was to email my main contact in Australia, Kim Akerman, an academic and stone tool maker who has been really helpful to me in the past by directing me to relevant sources when I was originally looking into Kimberley Points. I would always encourage people to contact specialists in the area they are interested in, however, this is another story. Using the library search facility and term: Aboriginal Australian scraper edge angle, I am currently working through the relevant papers that come up, with the aim of understanding more fully the Aboriginal relationship with edge angle and tool function. I can then integrate this knowledge into my undergraduate scraper making exercise.

Concluding thoughts

I emphasise reflective learning because I think it it illustrates how both teaching and learning is a process, not a product. I have a stone tool based PhD, am a competent stone tool maker and have been teaching undergraduate archaeology modules for the last six years. Whilst I have a good level of archaeological knowledge and understanding, I am absolutely still on my learning journey. As part of the PhD process, it is necessary to learn about teaching theories and learning styles, to understand the range of ways we learn, and therefore the range of ways we can teach. One of the most useful learning styles I have adopted is that of David Kolb and his experiential learning cycle. Kolb’s learning cycle has four stages. He presents an initial ‘active’ or ‘concrete’ phase of doing, let’s say, making a scraper. This active phase is followed by a reflective phase, considering how things went, and what changes to process could be made so that a better end result is achieved. The third phase of Kolb’s cycle involves doing the activity again, but this time integrating the considered changes to the process. The fourth phase is again reflective, looking at what has been produced and considering whether or not the change to process has helped to achieve a better end result, or scraper.

At first encounter, the reflective process can seem passive, sat thinking, devoid of action. I have found writing this blog / website a useful and active reflective learning tool that has really helped me develop my understandings. This has been primarily in relation to learning the stone tool making process, but as you can see with this post, also with my teaching and learning within archaeology more generally. In other words, doing something, like making a scraper, then writing about the process, is valuable in helping us to learn. Funnily enough, this is exactly what this Chester module is asking students to do; to develop an active reflective process. As discussed here, reflective learning is a strategy that has value at whatever stage of the academic process you are working at, and I would argue, beyond a particular subject area. Many archaeology students go on to work in areas beyond archaeology and the aim of this blog post is to illustrate the value of learning strategies as well as subject specific knowledge. For those who are interested, this link provides more information on David Kolb’s learning cycle, and experiential learning in general.

Endshock, or something or other?

This is a strange time of year for me. Relatively quiet diary wise and along the corridor, but work wise I have a lot to do within the couple of weeks before term starts.

This flexibility inevitably means I end up in the lab and doing what I am obsessed with at the moment, making handaxes. However, over the past two days things have not gone so well.

I have been trying to work the big chunks I have had lying round for a long time, but seem to be just destroying stuff, rather than being able to make anything. I think it is because I have so much going on in my head it is difficult for me to slow down and focus.

Anyway, I was pretty pleased with this handaxe preform. It was a large clean flake removal from the bottom right nodule in the cage. So far so good. The hard hammer shaping went well and I moved onto the soft hammer. The thing to note on the above photo is the dark brown inclusion at the bottom near my little finger. This material was a lot harder than the flint it was sat within.

This is a better view of the hard section. Soft hammer wise I do not have so much choice, they are all a pretty similar size, and I could have done with something heavier to take longer flakes from this particular flint, but I did not have that option, so I just had to hit it faster with the aim of increasing the kinetic energy and therefore impact. Above is an example of what I would class as a good platform, both low and isolated, or sticking out a bit. All the ingredients to produce a good clean removal.

However, I hit the platform of hard material, again and again with no result, until this happened. Increasing the impact at one end has split the handaxe preform in the middle. I know this as endshock, although I do not fully understand the phenomena, I just avoid hard hits at one end of a handaxe. With this example I was working with it on my leg, held down at the distal end and hitting hard the proximal. I wonder if my leg acted as a fulcrum and it gave way in the middle? Is this the same as endshock? I don’t know, but I am keeping this as a really interesting example of something or other.

The use of glass as a material: my learning journey in four parts

The image above is from a postcard I picked up in 2011 (I think) whilst at an archaeology conference at the University of Southampton. It has been framed and sat on my wall since then and I only recently found out the the glass replica of a Boxgrove handaxe featuring on the postcard was made by a knapper called Tim Ace. Tim’s handaxe inspired me then and has been instrumental in my enthusiasm for glass as a material to work with now.

Fast forward to 2016 and I had finished my stone tool based PhD and found I had time to learn how to flintknap. This was something I had failed to do up to then, in spite of working closely with both John Lord and Karl Lee. The main issue was lack of practice due to a lack of access to flint in the north west of England where I live. The above video was really useful in reminding me of the value of using glass to practice, and it was this video that got me going with arrowheads.

The above image was taken in the Liverpool World History Museum in 2017 (I think) and is of their collection of glass and stone Kimberley Points. When I realised Australian Aboriginals also used glass I became really excited about researching their points and methods. A number of people helped me on this learning journey as discussed here, but as well as helping me develop my pressure flaking skills, this journey provided me with a real insight into the social aspects of stone tools and their production.

And now it is 2024, and after many years spent hunched over in my back yard, I sort of know what I am doing. The above was a big flat slab of good quality glass from the Didsbury Oxfam shop (£3) and it is now a large pointy handaxe. We are in the lovely Spanish city of Valencia at the moment, and today I came across a woman in her studio making glass to produce her own glass jewellery. That would be like a dream for me. Having my own small studio space in a lovely city like Valencia, and being able to knap beautiful glass handaxes all day, interrupted only by the occasional cafe con leche.

My first undestroyed twisted cordate handaxe

I have become a bit obsessed with twisted cordate handaxes, and in particular, understanding the bodily process of making them. This is my third one, the other two were not ‘quite right’ and ended up being destroyed in the process of getting them ‘right’. This one is not exactly right but has survived. Perhaps it is because it is five o’clock on Friday afternoon I has given it a reprieve.

I need to have the archaeological example next to me whilst making to keep checking I have the twist right. I have read about the making method which was useful, but it is not a conceptual understanding I am after. My aim is for my body to get it, without need of a reference. Watch this space…

Mrs Anning’s amazing fossil echinoderm handaxe

As discussed in the previous post Ian brought not one, but two of Mrs Anning’s handaxes to site for me to have a look at. This second handaxe is another amazing example, for both similar and different reasons to the first.

Dealing with ‘similar’ first, you can see from comparing these two photographs that the patina on each surface is different. It looks like the more orange face sat uppermost, whilst the more cream coloured face was face down and protected, for many millennia (my hypothesis).

Moving onto different reasons, the echinoderm in the room is the amazing fossil sitting at the top of the photograph below. I sent a picture of it to my Geology friend, Stephen Poole, and he got back to me with the term: echinoderm. A number of well known handaxes have fossil inclusions and this has led to debates about evidence for Palaeolithic aesthetics. The most recent paper I read (Flanders & Kay 2023) argues that with the famous West Tofts example, it was simply left in because it would have been difficult to remove. I have discussed similar in a previous post.

There is a potentially long and interesting discussion on Palaeolithic aesthetics, however I think we first need to speak to Mrs Anning!

Reference: Emily Flanders, Alastair Key, The West Tofts handaxe: A remarkably average, structurally flawed, utilitarian biface, Journal of Archaeological Science,
Volume 160, 2023, 105888, ISSN 0305-4403, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jas.2023.105888.

Mrs Anning’s twisted cordate handaxe

We were away on fieldwork in Herefordshire over July and I am very slowly catching up with things. One of those things is Mrs Anning’s twisted cordate handaxe. Ian Elliott has worked on our sites over a number of seasons, and this year he brought some lithics for me to have a look at, in particular two fantastic handaxes, one of which I will discuss in this post.

As you can see from the video this handaxe is what is termed a twisted cordate. Twisted because the cutting edge undulates around the tool, cordate because it is heart shaped. It bears a striking resemblance to my favourite handaxe within our teaching collection, a 3D model of which can be seen here: https://skfb.ly/ooCKM.

As can be seen with these two photographs, the patina, or colour on one face is different to that on the other. This indicates that it has been sat for a considerable length of time and the lower surface has patinated at a different rate to the exposed upper surface. The edges are in good condition and indicate that it has not been rolled around much if at all. Like the one we have, it is in very good condition. White, Ashton and Bridgland (2019 open access) looked at the recorded contexts of this particular type of handaxe in Britain and dated them to around Marine Isotope Stage 11, so around 400,000 years ago.

The handaxe(s) were donated to Ian’s local primary school, St Mary’s in Dilwyn, Herefordshire by a Mrs Anning. They asked Ian to give a talk about our site, he told them we had very few finds and in response they showed him their donated stone tools. I am both really keen to find out from Mrs Anning where she got the handaxes from, I think Ian is on the case there. I am now keen to make one of these twisted handaxes.

White, Ashton and Bridgland explain the technological process and it sounds complicated, so I am really interested to see if the actual systematic reduction process is as complicated as the descriptions. Watch this space!

References: White M, Ashton N, Bridgland D. Twisted Handaxes in Middle Pleistocene Britain and their Implications for Regional-scale Cultural Variation and the Deep History of Acheulean Hominin Groups. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society. 2019;85:61-81. doi:10.1017/ppr.2019.1

The Blue Handaxe

BlueGlassHandaxe

I have a new project in mind inspired by a number of factors. The first one is the fragments of blue glass that I find at the bottle tip. Blue glass is pretty rare I have realised.

The second was seeing the melted glass bottle in Spain last year and realising I could produce a glass block, with the help of Nacho and his kiln. Talking to a friend Howard, he thought it would make an interesting three part film: gathering materials; making the glass block; knapping the handaxe.

That is how I ended up at Nacho’s this afternoon smashing the glass fragments I had previously collected and sorted, and making them into easily meltable pieces. Nacho, for his part has produced some clay moulds to get the shape, but as clay is porous the glass would bind to the clay. The aluminium food trays are to line the clay mould and stop the glass sticking.

This is obviously all theoretical at this stage, anyway, after putting the glass into a carrier bag and hitting it repeatedly with a lump hammer we managed to get one blue glass container filled.

After that we did a milk glass, and then clear glass container. And after that we went back to the bottle tip to get some materials for brown and green handaxes as well. There is a lot that can go wrong with this project, so let’s see how it goes!

I am a 61 year old man

Vulnerable-people, System change, Waste materials

Two weeks ago I had a day off work, which is absolutely unheard of for me. I woke up with intermittent pains in my chest, and as they were intermittent I was probably going to drive over to Chester to do my lecture anyway. Fortunately, I am part of a family and after a call to my doctor, Karen and Roxanna decided that a family day out to Accident and Emergency (A&E) was in order. Over seven hours I had an electrocardiogram, blood tests and a chest x-ray. I was able to observe these processes almost dispassionately. I was in no pain, and if there was a problem I was in the right place. In relation to me there was nothing serious to worry about, but I still have to find out what is causing the pains. As a visitor to A&E for the day it was both amazing to be looked after so well at a potentially critical moment, but also eye opening to see how they are managing to manage. As well as really busy and competent care professionals I spent the seven hours with a large number and range of individuals with a variety of distressing conditions and behaviours. There was a lot of vulnerable people and the less urgent cases will have spent a lot longer than me in there.

Fast forward to today, this is my fifth day of recovering from a really horrible flu bug. On Monday I had a snotty nose, Tuesday and Wednesday I couldn’t get out of bed. When I did get out of bed on Thursday I couldn’t walk because of lower back pain. Today is Saturday and I took the dog for a walk around the park. My lower back was really limiting movement and I was feeling very vulnerable to slipping on the patches of ice left over from last night. Last week I was dispassionately observing vulnerable people in physical distress, and today I was the vulnerable person in physical distress. I felt like one of the many and various people I had observed in hospital.

These feelings seems to have affected my focus because on the way back from the park all I could see was the amount of litter on the street. Being an archaeologist I think I can see a pattern. Car pulls up, driver consumes fast food, drink and cigarettes, winds down window, deposits empty packaging on the pavement, drives away. This may be an artefact of a new kind of work where drivers are living in their vehicles for most of the day. It is also incredibly selfish behaviour that makes me very angry. I have yet to see someone doing it which makes it even more frustrating to deal with.

My feelings of physical vulnerability and recent hospital experience made me realise that it is lower paid and older people (like me!) who come to rely more and more on services like the National Health Service (NHS). The deliberate underfunding of the NHS by our government is a clear strategy to turn an encompassing public service model into a profit making business one. By selling off significant elements of the service to the private sector it becomes a business model that profits from the physical vulnerability of an increasing poor and older population. Perhaps because I suddenly saw myself in this ‘new’ (poor and old!) situation it made me consider all those physically vulnerable people and the future of the NHS.

In my fevered and physically vulnerable state I imagined a clear correlation between the discarded packaging ending up in our street, and the various and vulnerable people ending up in A&E. Trafford Council will ultimately pick up the discarded packaging, and the NHS will deal with those vulnerable people, but both will spend a lot of time waiting to be sorted out.

I want to suggest that both these issues are structural in nature. I believe a modern attitude has been cultivated to understand ourselves as individuals first, and to a lesser degree part of a larger society. We are encouraged to become ‘entrepreneurs of the self’, creatively selling ourselves as a product within the wider capitalist market place. Until of course we are no longer ‘useful’ within that market place, something that is dawning upon me as a 61 year old man.

Within this argument, health insurance becomes a ‘technology of the self’, necessary to maintain the functioning of the individual. The discarded packaging are the remains of differing technologies of the self. The single use individual portion coffee cups, plastic bottles and cigarette boxes have all served their single use, and can now be dealt with by someone else. That someone else is larger society, something largely missing from the entrepreneur of the self narrative.

So what does all this mean? It felt like it made sense in my fevered state. Trying to unpick it is a bit more tricky. However, the thing that stands out for me is how virtually all my stone tool making equipment and materials is repurposed waste. It seems that following aboriginal cultures, it is possible to find satisfaction, value, and beauty in repurposing those materials. Developing this idea suggests we could organise things differently. Perhaps a society that was designed to find the value and beauty in both discarded materials as well as older and poorer people. A society like that would certainly be better for those vulnerable folks like myself ending up in A&E, but also for people like my 20 year old daughter, Roxanna. She is fit and healthy but through no fault of her own is going to inherit the looming environmental crisis we are busy creating, one single use plastic bottle at a time. I think we need a system change.

Experimental archaeology, engagement, fragmentation and enchainment

Enchainment, Fragmentation

I have recently been reading about the work of archaeologist, John Chapman, and his ideas around fragmentation and enchainment. I have also been thinking about the role of experimental archaeology, not just for exploring past processes, but also the formation of relationships in the present.

Certainly working together on the process of learning how to make a stone tool can be a bonding experience, especially when the process is stretched out over three years and leads to other projects and activities. Enter Laura and Jordan.

Upon reaching the end of their third year of undergraduate degree it felt appropriate for me to recognise in some way all the help, but also all the experiences we shared through their degree journey. These included workshops, fieldwork, surveying, filming, conservation as well as lots of coffee drinking. I have really enjoyed developing projects along with them both.

A good while ago I gave a friend, Lucette, a glass arrowhead as a birthday present. Her partner Martin transformed it into a lovely necklace / pendant, and after she sent me a photo of it I asked Martin if he could make me a couple.

As you can see, Martin came up with the goods, and both Laura and Jordan appreciated their pendants. As third years I thought I would be seeing a lot less of them once they had finished their degrees, however that has not been the case. Jordan is working on a temporary conservation project for the department, and Laura has started a Masters degree in Museum Studies on the floor below me.

The fragmentation process within John Chapman’s discussion refers largely to Neolithic pottery sherds, and how the breaking up of a pot can provide fragments that can link people to other people, but also places and events. The knapping process is also a process of fragmentation, and the gifting of these two particular arrowhead pendants (one from a bottle glass and one from flint) does seem to have enchained both Laura and Jordan to the department, so it must be true!

The process is the thing

Thanks to Alice la Porta we now have the best part of a tonne of flint nodules in the Teaching Lab. Thank you Alice! Earlier this afternoon I went to a talk by Julian Thomas about excavations at the early Neolithic site of Dorstone Hill in Herefordshire. Of particular interest was the pattern of rock crystal deposition. Whilst flint was found across the site, rock crystal was almost exclusively associated with cremated remains.

And whilst present in the form of very small pieces of debitage, no rock crystal tools were recovered, and the small size of the debitage suggests none were produced. The process of reduction seems to have been the thing. This is in stark contrast to the typological focus of modern archaeology discussed in Grace’s previous post.

Anyway, at about 5.30pm I found myself in the lab with a large hammer stone reducing a large nodule into manageable flakes. I have posted some pics of one of the handaxes made, but to reiterate, the process is the thing. I like the handaxe but I stole the 50 minutes or so of the day when I could be alone in the lab making something. Why is this process so precious?

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