The Running Sands of Time: Archaeology and the Short-Term

Author(s): Lin Foxhall

Source: World Archaeology, Vol. 31, No. 3, Human Lifecycles (Feb., 2000), pp. 484-498
Published by: Taylor & Francis, Ltd.
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The

sands
running
archaeology and

of
the

time:
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 unravelling 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 archaeological data for three historical Greek contexts will be examined: sanctuary sites, permanent structures 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 assumptions 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 meanings 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 permanent 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 grandchildren.
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 particularlywant 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 potential 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 archaeological '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 BCsculpted pediment 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 dedicate 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 militarism (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 equipment, 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. Inthe archonship of Kallimachos{349/8
BC}. Kallippe[dedicated] a spotted?/multicolouredscalloped chitoniskos {short thin dress}, this has
letters woven on it. Chairippeand Eukoline dedicated a [spotted garment] in a box. Philoumene
[dedicated] a chiton {long thin dress} made from amorgis. Inthe archonship of Theophilos {348/7
BC}. Pythias [dedicated] a spotted xystis {long heavy dress}. In the archonship of Themistokles
{347/6 BC}.Thyaine and Malthakededicated a purple spotted/ decorated chitoniskos in a box. Eukoline 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 himationwith 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.

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 sanctuaries housed shrines to several different divine beings).
Even when it comes to consulting oracles, individuals generally seem to have had shortterm motivations. The oracle at Delphi is most frequently associated with large-scale decisions 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

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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. (Carapanos 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)

Figure3 Questionsto the oracleof 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 archaeological interpretation of most Greek sanctuary sites (especially oracles) focuses almost exclusively 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, recognizing 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 characteristics as an indication of population size and distribution, with economic and social
implications (Halstead 1987; Whitelaw 1991: 416-17, 453-4). But the complex temporality 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 monumental, 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 functions 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:

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Lin Foxhall

Plate1 Classicalperiodtower,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

Figure4 Late Classical/EarlyHellenisticfarmsteadsites and 'territories'in the SouthernArgolid

(afterJamesonet 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-

1s
1-

10

--

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 7thc AD

Figure5 Keos Survey:numbersof sherdswhichcan be securelydated to withina century(after

Cherryet 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 shortterm behaviours.
Since the early excavations of Greek houses, attempts have been made to assign functions 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 abandoned, 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 distribution 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 = marblelouterionfragments
T = terracottalouterionfragments
Pithoi= 5

L= loomweight
S = spindlewhorl
B = bathtub(25 widely scatteredfragments)

Pipe
0

10
2
281 m internalarea
130 m withoutVIII+ X

15

20

25

30 m

vm + X = 53%of totalspace
VIII= 40%of totalspace

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 permanent fixtures. It might also suggest that loom weights were multi-functional. Similarly,
although most Olynthian houses had 'kitchens' with permanent hearths, these were probably 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 adjacent to them identified by the excavators as 'flues', where the remains of cooking are sometimes 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 function 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
PU

XII

stonetition

tside house

trfnd ou

0 1 2

10

S = 5th c. sherds
S = 4th c. sherds
P = Pithosfragments
1= Rolled andpiercedlens sheet

15
C = 4th - 3rd c.coin
B = Byzantin coin & e
L = bead 'potmend'

20m

sherds

Figure7 The VariHouse:approximatefindspotsof artefacts(basedon Joneset 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

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 archaeologically 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.; courtyard area 151 m2), strict status and gender separation defined spatially was probably physically 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,

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'seasonal'; they can also be 'periodic', i.e. happening on a regular basis, but not necessarily 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 seasonality 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 - archetypally 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 distribution 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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