southern Italy

Community Archaeology in Roman Æclanum

This summer, I was fortunate enough to work on a community archaeology event centred around the Roman town of Æclanum, along the Appian Way (modern Passo di Mirabella, Italy). The role of this type of archaeology in connecting local communities to their heritage is significant, with many possibilities for creativity and fun. Our teams included scholars from several international institutions and students from over 70 universities, which added to the diversity of ideas and approaches for our Open Day.

The directors of the Æclanum excavation, led by the University of Edinburgh and the Apolline Project, wanted to begin developing a presence within the community to encourage future seasons of public engagement and interest.

What made this experience challenging and exciting was that it was my first time at the helm of a community archaeology project, and it needed to be delivered in Italian. There were many things to consider when beginning to create materials and plan events. I approached the project from the ground up, so to speak: the first step was to establish the directors’ aims and objectives, then to research how previous and current community archaeology projects conducted their own programs, i.e. their methodologies. By doing so, the questions of methodology, and of desired outcomes that needed to be addressed in the Æclanum project, would be more comprehensively realized.


One of our aims was to come up with educational games and materials that would engage the schoolchildren and adult visitors on the open day and beyond. As an illustrator and archaeologist, foundational elements were essential to design and establish a consistency in the materials for the site that were accurate representations but also a bit fun. We came up with a site logo that represented the wolf, which is regionally and historically significant to the region of Irpinia.

Illustration for social media

It was a lot of fun developing the style to create the characters, images, and icons that we would use for the site. The site maps were designed with a comic style, which could be easily understood and read by any visitor to the site. Larger print items and digital materials (which could be accessed online) shared the comic style, to appeal broadly and convey information colourfully and effectively.

One of the most exciting things about doing illustration work on an ongoing excavation, and developing materials for an open day, is the things that you discover can be woven into the displays within a few days! An inscription that was found on a Friday was drawn, digitized and turned into a stamp by the following week! It was incredibly cool for me to be a part of that.

As the buses rolled in, our supervisors and students showed their expertise and enthusiasm for archaeology, with the visitors of all ages participating in the activities and tours. Based on their feedback, we were thrilled by the positive response, and grateful for input on areas which they would like to see or experience more.

What surprised me the most during this process was the importance of flexibility and fluidity. It is impossible to know how many people will turn up to an open day, and having great tours and activity tables can come down to contingency plans and experienced public speakers. Similarly, some activities, which the archaeology students were engaged in during the event, became immediate hits with the children who took to the work brilliantly! Things that weren’t planned necessarily to be interactive developed that way throughout the day, and it was fantastic to have the young visitors inform us about how and with what they wanted to interact!

With many exciting ways being developed to engage new audiences and young people with community archaeology, I am thrilled to be able to work in such a dynamic and creative area of archaeology.



Dealing with the dead of Villamagna, Medieval Italy

I really don’t like dead bodies. But the thing about archaeology is that you never really know what you’re going to dig up, and in my last major dig, there were lots and lots of dead bodies – in the end the team excavated nearly 500 medieval skeletons from the area around a church at Villamagna, near Anagni in central Italy. The results of that excavation (the cemetery and all the rest of the large-scale multi-year project) are now being published; interim reports can be found here. Our book includes an inventory and preliminary discussion of the skeletons, the demography of the cemetery and basic paleo-pathology, a discussion of the isotopes and discussions of the topography and chronology of the cemetery, the burials and the finds. But these dead people won’t lie down and I keep finding myself dealing with them, now well after we’re finished digging. Because ours is the largest collection of excavated skeletons from medieval Italy, I’m hoping that these bones can be further studied by bioarchaeologists who are going to be more able to design and carry out a programme of scientific research that will benefit from such a large sample size, from clearly defined and meticulously recorded stratigraphic contexts. I’m in Rome this week trying to help this project along.

A view of the cemetery while we were excavating: lots of regular, earthen graves. Lots and lots.

A view of the cemetery while we were excavating: lots of regular, earthen graves. Lots and lots.

The team who is going to take over the study of the bones of Villamagna include the indefatigable anthropologist who directed the initial inventory and study of the project, Francesca Candilio, and now a pair of bioarchaeologists, Sabrina Agarwal from Berkeley and Patrick Beauchesne from University of Michigan, Dearborn. Their interests lie in understanding better the general health of the population and how it might have changed over time, looking at oral health, at indications of stress on the body associated with certain kinds of work, at changes in bone density at certain moments of development and during the lifetime, and indicators of disease. Francesca has some ideas about some peculiar bone formations on some of the bones, and has identified some people who suffered fatal wounds, while others lived with their wounds for many years. Through information about nutrition levels, general health and indications of physical labour in this population we can reconstruct these particular aspects of daily life in a rural village for which we have otherwise limited data available from textual sources or other archaeological indicators. I am not a bioarchaeologist, but I remain on board because I want to think about ways in which this kind of information about health and life course can relate to the stratigraphic contexts of the cemetery and the rest of the site.


HRU 4348, the male who died in the 13th century because of a projectile wound to his head, the point of which is still there!

We all met in Rome this week, Sabrina and Patrick flew in from California and I came over from London; Lisa Fentress, the project director, and Francesca are based in Rome. We visited the site, brought some specimens to Francesca’s lab, and collected some of the samples for preliminary work to be done. We went over our data collection practices from the dig and reviewed the anthropological inventories and analysis that the dig team carried out. Francesca explained the methods her lab uses for age-ing and sexing the skeletons, and her binders full of measurements and data. She pulled out some of the interesting pathologies, and weirdnesses in the population, and also showed off one of her favourite head wounds: a guy who was buried in the thirteenth century, inside the monastic cloister, with a ballista point lodged in his cranium.

I feel very pleased that these bones will be taken over by such a competent and interesting team of people. I like Sabrina and Patrick’s approach of social bioarchaeology (Sabrina recently edited a book on the topic), looking not just at health and living conditions of people, especially through the lenses of gender, age, and social status. Francesca has expertise in teeth patterns, looking at migration of populations through dental traits, and will be happy to include Villamagna teeth in her data sets.  I think there is still a lot of work left to be done figuring out this population, and devising a strategy for the archeo-anthropology and bioarchaeology which will exploit the stratigraphic data from the excavation alongside the samples of the skeletons, and I’m interested in thinking this through.

Aside from feeling pleased to shepherd the bones into the hands of another team, there are two issues which really interest me about this research. One: the majority of these skeletons (ballista-point guy not included) came dates from about 1300 to about 1400 (several of the skeletons were dated by C14), so after the monastery was suppressed and the monks expelled. For that period we have very little information about who owned the estate of Villamagna and how the church was administered, so I’m very keen to think more about who takes over a monastery and its estate lands when the institution is suppressed and there is no clear successor to administer the estate. The village and the site of the monastery which we excavated were clearly abandoned about 1300, but this major cemetery with lots and lots of skeletons are clear evidence that the church was still in use, and some priest was involved in burying the dead. The other issue that I’m very excited about at the moment is that in the middle of this phase, in 1348 and 1349, life in central Italy must have changed radically. In 1348 the Black Death arrived in southern Italy, where – by some counts – the population was reduced by half. If I look around me right now and imagine half of the people who surround me dropping dead, my job, my family, and every aspect of my life would be radically different. It may have been so for Villamagna in the fourteenth century and I would like to know whether this was the case, or whether the Black Death didn’t affect this place in particular. We have no indication of Plague Pits, no sense of epidemic-scale deaths, which in itself is might point to the site’s survival relatively unscathed. On the other hand, the site must have been profoundly affected by the three earthquakes which shook southern Italy on 9 September 1349. In Rome, part of the Colosseum collapsed from the quake whose epicentre was located down in the Apennine mountain range—much closer to Villamagna than Rome was. It seems very unlikely that the standing buildings of Villamagna were not destroyed, and thus the population forced to relocate or otherwise reorganise their subsistence. And yet we have only slim indications in the archaeological record of that kind of destruction and rebuilding. Was everything already abandoned then? Or was it restored, only to be abandoned 50 years later? I hope that having a better sense of the population buried here might help shift our thinking about these two catastrophic events and catastrophe in general in a rural village.