National Geographic commemorates the excavation of the Uluburun

National Geographic blog News Watch recently published a fantastic photo essay commemorating the fifty-year anniversary of the beginning of George Bass' excavation of the Uluburun, a bronze-age shipwreck off the coast of Turkey, which brought with it the professionalization of the field of underwater archaeology. Artifacts from the Uluburun are now housed in the Museum of Underwater Archaeology in Bodrum, Turkey, one of the world's foremost archaeological museums.

More on protecting Gulf Coast underwater cultural heritage

As a follow-up to the previous post on archaeologist Doug Wilson's efforts to manage underwater cultural heritage on the Gulf Coast, Vancouver, Washington newspaper The Columbian included a brief mention of this work earlier this week, along with a photo showing a newly-discovered anchor, which will be left in a (relatively) anaerobic underwater environment to protect it from oxygen, which can accelerate corrosion in waterlogged metal artifacts.

Safeguarding cultural resources on the Gulf Coast

In this video, National Park Service archaeologist Doug Wilson discusses his efforts to protect cultural resources during the oil spill clean up on the Gulf Coast. His work includes protecting underwater cultural resources affected by the spill, like shipwreck sites and a newly-discovered Civil War-era anchor.

Creating a preservationist community: Underwater cultural heritage and the Barnes collection

I recently saw the 2009 documentary film The Art of the Steal, which chronicles the legal and ethical controversies surrounding the Barnes Foundation collection of art. Though the Barnes collection contains no artifacts of underwater cultural heritage, its story raises issues relevant to many cultural heritage disputes.

The Barnes collection was created by Dr. Albert C. Barnes, a pharmaceutical tycoon who amassed a collection of impressionist and post-impressionist paintings, including works by Paul Gauguin, Edouard Manet, Henri Matisse, and Vincent van Gogh. Barnes’ will stipulated that the collection could not be sold, loaned, or moved, and that it could only be viewed by the public two days per week at Barnes’ home and gallery in Lower Merion, Pennsylvania. During the rest of the week, the collection was only to be made accessible to students of art. In the 1980s, following the death of Barnes’ only appointed President of the Foundation, Richard Glanton assumed control of the organization and launched an initiative to raise funds to repair the collection’s storage and exhibit facilities. Glanton first proposed deaccessioning and selling some of the collection’s objects to raise funds for these repairs, a plan that was discarded following widespread outcry from the museum and arts communities. In 1992, Glanton instead launched a worldwide tour of the collection, which proved to be wildly popular and profitable, though it defied Barnes’ wishes. In the 2000s, a plan was launched to move the collection from its historic building in Lower Merion to a new building in Philadelphia. Critics of this plan have accused the custodians of the Barnes collection of disregarding Barnes’ wishes and the public trust in favor of a scheme to attract tourist dollars to Philadelphia. The film’s commentators connect this move to a commercialization of the Barnes collection that began with its 1992 world tour. One interviewee calls the planned move an effort to create a “McBarnes” collection. Another calls the new Barnes museum a “Disneyland of paintings.”

At the core of this debate over the Barnes collection is the push-and-pull relationship between the desire to make collections democratic, allowing the public to learn from them, and the fear of “selling out” and losing authenticity. For underwater cultural heritage sites and their associated artifacts, this debate can be seen in the arguments between salvors and archaeologists over what should be done with underwater cultural heritage sites and artifacts. Salvors accuse archaeologists and museums of hoarding artifacts and keeping them from public view while they (salvors) bring salvaged collections to the public through blockbuster exhibitions and artifact sales. Archaeologists accuse salvors of commercializing and undermining the historic value of cultural heritage sites, creating a public that assigns economic value to artifacts instead of cultural value, but not-for-profit archaeologists often don’t have the financial resources to create traveling exhibitions and bring collections to the public in the way that salvors do.

On both sides of the Barnes debate and the underwater cultural heritage debate, the stakes – financial, legal, ethical, and emotional – are high, and the likelihood of finding a single, mutually satisfying solution is slim. However, those who support the preservation of cultural heritage, whether it be a Renoir painting or a ballast stone, can only benefit by seeing analogous controversies and crossing genre lines to find sympathetic communities. In other words, opponents of salvage and opponents of dividing art museum collections can find their larger arguments strengthened by recognizing each other as part of a larger campaign to preserve culture. To put it even more succinctly, neither debate exists in a vacuum.

However, the proponents of moving the Barnes collection to Philadelphia and supporters of commercial salvage make a valuable point in their desire to see collections accessible to the public, though the ways in which they attempt to execute this desire may be ethically or legally flawed. It is my opinion that preservationists can most effectively counter commercialization by banding together and by incorporating democratization of heritage in their efforts to preserve it. Doing this while finding a balance between democratization and commercialization, however, is where the real challenge lies.

Image from The Art of the Steal.

New Titanic Expedition brings a change of heart for Delgado

The excavation of the shipwreck site of the RMS Titanic by the commercial salvage company RMS Titanic, Inc. has often been controversial. RMS Titanic, Inc. (RMST) has removed thousands of artifacts from the site, all of which are currently in storage or included in Titanic: The Artifact Exhibition, a traveling exhibit that tells the story of the Titanic and RMST’s excavations. The only items from the wreck site sold by RMST are coal fragments, which the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration has declared should not be considered artifacts based on the limited archaeological or historic data that can be gleaned from them (it should be noted that not all archaeologists share this opinion of coal artifacts).

Though RMST, unlike other commercial salvors, has never sold artifacts, the company has been accused by some in the archaeological community of mismanaging the site. Robert Ballard of the Wood’s Hole Oceanographic Institution (WHOI), and one of the original finders of the Titanic wreck site, has accused the company of contributing to the deterioration of the site by allowing submersibles to land on its deck, by accidental collisions between the ship’s hull and submersibles, and by leaving modern debris at the site.

James Delgado, President of the Institute of Nautical Archaeology (INA) at Texas A&M has leveled his own accusations against the company. In a 2001 article for Archaeology magazine that coincided with a trip to the wreck site, Delgado wrote that RMST’s lack of interest in adhering to archaeological standards had resulted in the degradation of the site’s integrity. He wrote:

Despite claims by [RMST] that their work is archaeologically based, it becomes obvious that they have been highly selective in what they retrieve. We see unmarked and third-class ceramics, and a few broken or badly chipped second-class pieces – no first class china. We see scoop marks that show where selected pieces have been plucked from clusters of artifacts – no grids, no scientific sampling – simply for their display or monetary value. What is happening here, two and one-half miles down and out of sight of much of the world, is not archaeology.

In this passage, Delgado essentially argues that RMST’s profit-driven motives have had an influence on the types of artifacts they target for removal from the site and that this, in itself, is antithetical to archaeological standards.

In late August, Delgado returned to Titanic, along with scientists and archaeologists from WHOI, NOAA, and the National Park Service. On an INA-sponsored blog, Delgado wrote of his recent change of heart regarding RMST’s management of Titanic:

A detailed forensic audit of their activities proved to many of us that they have mapped their recoveries, conserved their finds, and that the artifacts ware not to be sold but kept in publicly accessible museums. RMST’s President, Christopher Davino, and his company made a compelling argument to all of the partners that they wish to focus on the longterm preservation of the site and to see it properly and scientifically studied, mapped, and for discussions to begin on the future of the site based on hard science, not profit. So all of the partners, particularly with this being a scientific mission with no recovery of artifacts, agreed to participate.

In my research for my thesis, Exhibiting Salvage: Examining the Relationships Between Commercial Salvors and American Museums, I researched RMST’s history at the site, the criticism its excavations have faced, and I also visited Titanic: The Artifact Exhibition to determine the ways in which RMST presents its operations in museum exhibits. Like Delgado, I found the fact that RMST has not sold artifacts (other than coal fragments) to be encouraging. RMST also runs a state-of-the-art conservation lab to preserve the artifacts it recovers. However, the evidence suggesting a history of mismanagement of the site is compelling and undeniable. Additionally, RMST must continue to recover artifacts from the site in perpetuity in order to retain its salvor-in-possession rights. So, while Delgado takes care to note that no artifacts will be removed during this expedition, RMST will undoubtedly continue to recover artifacts from the site. This dichotomy between good practices and bad ones is a large part of what makes RMST controversial and hard to either fully support or fully condemn.

It seems to me that Delgado’s change of opinion between 2001 and 2010 is likely related to internal changes in the way RMST is run. In 2000, not long before Delgado’s trip to the site and the publication of his article in Archaeology, RMST’s then-president Arnie Geller released a proposed plan to “target high-profile and valuable artifacts” at the site and to cut into the ship’s hull to locate a rumored shipment of diamonds said to have sunk with the ship. This plan inspired outrage among the archaeological community and RMST was barred by a federal court in Virginia from cutting into the ship and from selling recovered artifacts. Since then, it appears, RMST has found a new president and, perhaps, a new approach towards the Titanic wreck site. Hopefully, this scientific expedition to the site will herald a new age of collaboration between archaeologists and RMST. This type of collaboration, in which scientific data is collected, no artifacts are sold, and recovered artifacts are only used to tell the story of the Titanic to the public, could be a wonderful model for the reformation of other commercial salvage companies.

The current expedition to the Titanic has been delayed due to storms, but the INA's Titanic Blog can be read here.



Delgado, James. “Diving on the Titanic.” Archaeology 54, No. 1 (January/February
2001).

Elia, Ricardo J. “Diving for Diamonds.” Archaeology, Online Features.
September 20, 2000. http://www.archaeology.org/online/features/titanic/index.htm.

Image from Premier Exhibitions, Inc., taken in late August 2010.

"Shipwrecked Ceramics" at the V&A

I recently discovered this short, but interesting feature on shipwrecked ceramics on the website of the Victoria and Albert Museum (which, as museum websites go, is a fantastic resource). The V&A has in its collection ceramic artifacts from three southeast Asian shipwrecks. Provenience for these artifacts is not detailed in the feature, but the article does include this interesting tidbit concerning one shipwreck:

In 1998 fishermen uncovered the wreck of a Chinese junk near Ca Mau in southern Vietnam...About 130,000 ceramics from this wreck were salvaged from the seabed.

Based on this quote alone, it is difficult to tell exactly how the artifacts were "salvaged" or who raised them from the seabed, but it doesn't seem to indicate that it was done by archaeological excavation.

Shipwreck sites in the waters surrounding southeast Asia have become notorious for their ceramics and for the salvage operations they attract. One of the most famous of these commercial operations came in 1986, when a British salvor discovered the remains of the eighteenth-century Dutch merchant ship Geldermalsen off the coast of Indonesia. Despite protests from the museum community, including the official opposition of the International Congress of Maritime Museums, artifacts removed from the site, which included gold bars and 160,000 ceramic artifacts, were auctioned in Amsterdam and the site was destroyed.

More recently, in 1999, a private commercial salvage company removed 300,000 ceramic artifacts from the wreck of the Tek Sing in the South China Sea. The Tek Sing, one of the last Chinese junk ships, sank in 1822, killing almost 1,500 passengers and has been called the "Titanic of the East." Salvors removed the wreck's cargo and auctioned it in Stuttgart, Germany.

The V&A is one of the most respected museums in the world and a great favorite of mine. I am not personally inclined to believe that they would knowingly acquire unethically excavated artifacts, but, unfortunately, the prevelance of commercial salvage and the notoriety of salvage operations in this region can cast this shadow of doubt.

Image from the Victoria & Albert Museum.

Delgado comments on shipwreck salvage and Odyssey Marine in Naval History

In the August 2010 issue of Naval History, maritime archaeologist James P. Delgado offers his comments on the ongoing saga of Odyssey Marine Exploration’s excavation of the Nuestra Señora de las Mercedes. Delgado’s insights are particularly valuable due to the fact that he was among the team of researchers who identified the wreck site, code named “Black Swan” and cloaked in secrecy by Odyssey Marine, as the Mercedes. The Mercedes, a warship of Spain, is protected under the rules of sovereign immunity, but was nonetheless excavated by Odyssey. This in itself is slightly unusual, since Odyssey’s website declares that the company principally targets ships that will not be protected by sovereign immunity and it is in their best interest to avoid ships owned by sovereign governments at the time of their sinking. In the court case brought against Spain, Odyssey argued that the Mercedes, despite being a Spanish warship, was conducting non-governmental operations and should thus not be immune to salvage. Delgado corroborates the fact that the Mercedes was carrying goods owned by Spanish civilians, but argues that this does not undermine the ship’s military status. It seems that in pursuing the Mercedes, which Odyssey appears to have done, Odyssey either believed its argument that the ship would not be immune or believed they could more effectively defend this point in court.

Delgado goes on to discuss the sale of artifacts, especially coins, by commercial salvage companies like Odyssey, who argue that recovered coins are mass-produced and thus not likely to yield significant scientific information. Delgado describes DNA testing done on amphorae recovered from underwater sites that have revealed fascinating details about the vessels’ former contents.

I both agree and disagree with Delgado’s assertions here. Coins made before the industrial period may, as Delgado writes, reveal important information under analysis and the sale of these coins damages the archaeological and historical record. However, when dealing with coins minted after the advent of industrialization, the issue becomes more complicated. George Bass, founder of the Institute of Nautical Archaeology, has written, “Society must decide if it is worth the cost of curating thousands upon thousands of lead bullets or glass bottles made in the same molds. Should we keep every plastic ashtray manufactured today since each will in time be an antique?” When exhibits created by Odyssey Marine are hosted by museums, coins from the SS Republic, a Civil War-era steamship, are sold in museum gift shops. Thus, the museums that have hosted these exhibits have found no insurmountable ethical issue with selling post-industrial coins. It would be interesting to investigate, however, museums’ positions if they were to be charged with selling pre-industrial coins like those recovered from the Mercedes on Odyssey’s behalf.

A final interesting point made by Delgado is his remark on the fact that Odyssey advertises itself as a salvage company with an unusual and commendable interest in performing archaeology. He writes,

Odyssey Marine…maintains that it works with qualified archaeologists and employs high-tech equipment and a careful approach to its undersea efforts. However, the objection that I and my colleagues have is akin to a debate in medical circles: Does the competence of a surgeon, even a brilliant, ground-breaking one, justify harvesting organs from living patients to be sold to the highest bidder?

In other words, the quality of Odyssey’s work does not justify its commercial interests. American and international museums interested in working with Odyssey on the creation of exhibits would do well to keep these arguments in mind.

Bass, George. “The Ethics of Shipwreck Archaeology.” In Ethical Issues in Archaeology. Eds. Larry J. Zimmerman, Karen D. Vitelli, Julia J. Hollowell Zimmer. Walnut Creek, CA: Altamira, 2003, 58-59.

Delgado, James P. “The Trouble with Treasure.” Naval History 24, No. 4 (August 2010): 18-25.