I’m so pleased to announce that, more than seven years after discovering the records hidden deep inside the BBC’s archives, my research on the first-ever English-language archaeology TV shows (aired in 1937) has been published (free, pre-print version here)!
Did you know that these shows were effectively 100% produced and starred in by key female archaeologists and TV producers of the time?
Did you know that archaeology was one of the first subjects to air on television very shortly after the British TV service launched (November 1936)?
Did you know that, at the time, archaeology was considered an experimental science, presented alongside other emerging — and, in some cases, now discredited — empirical research areas like palm-reading? (!)
No filmic records survive of these shows (because of the live-to-air nature of TV in the early days), and after weeks of searching through the BBC’s paper archives, I am fairly confident that no scripts survive either. What we do have access to are correspondences, the most fascinating of which include exchanges between producer Mary Adams and Mortimer Wheeler, and Wheeler and David Attenborough (then working behind the scenes in his early professional role for the BBC):
I don’t know whether you have seen a Television screen, but it is obvious that archaeological material has great possibilities for us. I would very much like to interest you in our work here, and to discuss with you what might be done (Adams to Wheeler, 13 May 1927, BBC WAC, TVART1, Wheeler Personal File).
I feel sure you will understand that having been lured into this business by the wiles of Mary Adams (bless her),* I was amused to have some small share in it during the formative stage. But going on with it indefinitely now that it seems to be more or less established is another matter (Wheeler to Attenborough, 8 Sep 1953, BBC WAC, TVART1, Wheeler Personal File).
*Note that, based on my familiarity with the subject matter & archives, feel this reference to Mary could be interpreted as condescendingly gendered.
As well, we have access to records of anticipated camera angles and filmic sequences for some of the shows (see here to access imagery).
There is so much fascinating insight here into the early days of both archaeology and TV, including the fact that they each arguably depend on one another to varying degrees to emerge and establish themselves as (public) services.
I’ve copied the abstract from my article below:
You can access a pre-print PDF copy of the article here:
Or don’t hesitate to email me and I’ll send you the final print version.
I’m indebted to many people for supporting me in this research, which was conducted as part of my PhD and generously funded by a Doctoral Fellowship from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada (2007– 2010) and an Overseas Research Student Award from the Higher Education Funding Council for England (2007– 2010). Thanks especially to Jamie Larkin for his editorial wisdom and Pamela Jane Smith for being endlessly supportive and ever-inspiring.
I started to write this blog post a long time ago (December 2015) at the close of our first field season in Egypt on the Memphis Site and Community Development Project. That project is soon to wrap up (and, fingers crossed, we will be able to publicise the results shortly!), and in the meanwhile, we got the great news that we won €2.6 million in funding from the European Union for the EMOTIVE Project. EMOTIVE launched in November 2016, and we now have a series of active case studies under development, several being spearheaded by my amazing students at York:
Sophia Mirashrafi who’s crafting an interactive experience for groups of individuals on the dynamics of egalitarianism,
Angeliki Tzouganatou who’s creating a chatbot for Facebook users who are keen on the archaeological site of Çatalhöyük,
Camille Boulais-Pretty who’s exploring the possibilities of virtual environments for telling short stories around human emotions,
While all of this has been happening, I have also been lucky enough to win priming funds from both MUPI (an incredible initiative!) and the Centre for Digital Heritage to pursue other collaborative research, including a partnership with JORVIK we’ve called Viking Hack @ JORVIK (inspired by the fabulous Museum Hack), and a spectacularly cool digital diorama project with Colleen Morgan and Stu Eve.
As one can imagine, with so many things happening simultaneously, I’ve been busy and exhausted. So, I never got around to writing this blog post on a topic that I was desperate to know more about – and that I’ve searched in vain for relevant information about over the past few years…
What I wanted to know was:
What does it mean to be a project lead – a principal or co-investigator?
What must you know before you take on such a role?
What problems or issues should you anticipate in applying for and running or co-running a project – problems that are not akin to anything you would have experienced in doing smaller or independent work (e.g., your PhD)?
How do you successfully navigate these problems?
How does project leadership abroad differ from project leadership done in one’s own home country/region?
Perhaps for obvious reasons, most of the advice available online in relation to these questions seems unhelpfully generic. Some has certainly resonated with me (e.g., see articles in the Chronicle of Higher Education). However, after applying for countless grants (only a handful of which, of course, were funded), after working with teams ranging from small (5 people or less) to large (80 or more), after doing projects both locally and in various foreign countries where English is not a key or important language, I feel there’s actually much that can be spoken about with specificity.
I have experienced many challenges on these projects, and I feel incredibly lucky that my teams have supported me through these challenges (thank you to all my #heritagefamily) – helping me to build what I see as a running list of things to remind future-me about as new ventures emerge and previous ventures are extended. One of the ultimate failings of the education that I received, I think, is a lack of attention to these specificities, which can easily lead you down a path where you find yourself unprepared, overworked, confused, frustrated and supremely disillusioned. Yet there are relatively basic means to help curb some problems, and to thereby enable one’s work to flourish.
So, here are my 15 lessons learned so far in my capacity as a PI/Co-I on complex, multifaceted projects like Memphis and Çatalhöyük, and smaller (although still complex) projects like our annual Heritage Practice fieldschool. I have split this list into parts, and I’d love for you to add to it or edit it or otherwise share your own experiences with me, if you’d be willing.
This is the kind of list that I wish I’d known about before launching into my career. I suppose, for me, in the flurry to (1) prepare funding bids, (2) predict what will be needed in the (often unlikely) chance that you’ll win these bids, and then (3) deliver the project, I’ve sometimes overlooked simple things. This list may come across, then, as exactly that – simple – but for me it’s become incredibly important for my professional development.
15 Hard-Won Tips on Being a PI or Co-I
In the lead-up to a project:
Apply for small pots of pilot funding to explore opportunities before venturing to bid for large grants. All of my successful projects have grown from smaller collaborative endeavours, often funded through little grants of £1000-3000 (enough to cover a portion of travel, some technology and related expenses). These funds have come from my own department, my university or other organisations (e.g., the British Institute at Ankara, the World University Network, MUPI). They have enabled us to network with others, build teams, collect data and prepare conference presentations and journal publications, which have then fed into the case for support for larger bids for funds.
Allow sufficient time (as much as possible!) to develop rigorous proposed case studies to accompany grant applications. All of the major grants that my teams have won have included within them very specific outlines – including illustrations and clear graphical representations – of the types of work we intend to do, and how it responds to the research questions and grant specifications. These case studies are usually denoted via boxed text – singled out – and provide significant detail that one otherwise might be inclined to gloss over in favour of expressing the project’s larger vision. They add a tangible quality to applications, making them, I believe, more likely to resonate with reviewers.
Be thorough in reading and responding to funding application documents. Every funding bid has a long descriptive text outlining all the variations and possibilities of the grant. Go through this text line-by-line and make sure you physically chart out (and make obvious to your reviewers) how your project attends to every single point.
Partner with colleagues who have previously won major grants. The applications that I’ve submitted with successful colleagues are, in the end, far more robust and convincing in their articulation, and it has only been through such partnerships that I have been able to move from small grants to large grants. **
Budget sufficient money to pay trained research fellows and assistants to work with you. I am fortunate to have incredible student volunteers who’ve collaborated with me for short periods of time on all of my research and engagement endeavours. But for reasons of stability, rigour, accountability – not to mention ethics and fair pay – this volunteerism (which I consider important and essential for skill-building) needs to be buttressed with expert paid staff.
Always budget for a professional translator if working in multiple languages. This is a point that I’m reminded of every time I’m part of a project abroad, and yet, in my experience, it is a form of labour that is often unaccounted for – or that is assumed as something that will be done by team members who are fluent in the language (regardless of whether or not they have the time or training to manage such translation). This temptation to translate documents using any member of one’s project team is very high. Yet it can be highly problematic, for reasons that range from exploitation to gender bias. (As one commentator pointed out to me, women are seemingly most often targeted for such work.) Professional translators may come with their own issues (e.g., the tone or intent may, literally, be lost in their translation), but on the Memphis Project a professional translator has been complemented with our own translation committee (a handful of team members who help to oversee the process).
Always budget for a professional graphic designer and a photographer. I cannot express with enough emphasis just how important and impactful it is to have a compelling visual presence for your project. Please do not rely on volunteers or enthusiasts alone to do such work. The skill, the knowledge, the understanding of audience and mood, the capacity to create attachment and investment that come with hiring professional visual practitioners should not be underestimated. Moreover, they can coordinate with printers and manufacturers, providing exact specifications regarding formats, colours, quality, etc. – and overseeing the process of production – which is essential for professional-level final outputs.
Have a contingency fund. It is a truism that any community or engagement project will have unforeseen and unpredictable dimensions. Make sure you have a pot of money/resources set aside to negotiate these dimensions.
Once you’ve launched your project:
If running field-based projects, schedule very short daily meetings with your team and do not compromise on them. We always do this at Çatalhöyük, but here my team is smaller (c. 10 people total). At Memphis, it was only when one of my great friends from AERA began to convene such daily meetings for our supervisory team that we actually all (10-15 supervisor-level staff who together oversaw dozens of students + affiliated project members) sat down to plan/reflect. This meant we were far more efficient in dealing with complex issues. Given the size of the supervisory team and the size of our student cohorts, such meetings were particularly critical in keeping us all on the same page.
Reflect on your progress and give praise both at formalised points in the process and informally with all members of your team. Work hard to give positive reinforcement, and try always to use an individual’s strengths as the reference point when discussing areas of necessary improvement. Being candid but still complimentary has proven necessary in my teams for quickly addressing problems when they arise. And sharing compliments and positive energy with everyone – students, colleagues, supervisors – the whole team – is crucial, especially in order to buffer against future problems and to build camaraderie that can keep a team solid in more tumultuous times. I feel this practice – of giving regular praise, and also of encouraging your team members to be generous in giving their own praise to their peers, colleagues, supervisors, and others – is the ultimate confidence booster, an obvious sign of compassion, understanding and care, and hence a major determinant of project success.
Prepare (and, if you deem it necessary, then sign) contracts with volunteers who accompany you on fieldwork. We do this with dissertation students in our degree programmes at York, and I’ve increasingly come to see the import of such contracts. They specify both what you expect (in terms of day-to-day work, comportment and courtesy, previous experience, preparation, commitment and ethics) and what your volunteers can expect of you. They create the foundations for your relationship, and most importantly, if anything goes wrong, they offer something tangible to refer back to for guidance in resolving matters.
Don’t expect to get anything else done while working on a major project. I don’t think this point needs to be elaborated beyond saying: be realistic about your time and manage your expectations around what can reasonably be achieved in the hours allocated to you.
Be prepared for bafflingly high levels of administration and paperwork. I can honestly say that one of the most shocking things for me about becoming an academic has been grappling with the amount of time and energy that needs to be invested in writing and replying to emails, report-writing (unpublished), participating in many administrative meetings, filling out project management checklists and spreadsheets and Doodle polls, negotiating incredibly complex and lengthy insurance and risk assessment documents and regulations, filing for permits and visas, budgeting and reconciling receipts, and attending to related accounting systems. I had no previous experience of any of this before I started my lectureship, and I am compelled to resist the onslaught of such demands, which are ever-increasing and continuously and unnecessarily more bespoke and invasive. Having the time to actually do research on one’s own research project is elusive, and I feel incredibly fortunate that I have so many great students and colleagues who are willing to collaborate with me and empathise with my circumstances to enable the research to happen. I hope real resistance to such bureaucratic demands takes more obvious shape soon, as these demands (as testified to by many scholars – Bregman, Graeber, etc.) are a genuine threat to innovation, constructive change and revolutionary scholarship.
Take people management seriously and invest time in developing your public leadership skills. I feel this is a point that should be compulsorily taught in all PhD, undergrad and Masters programmes. If you work in archaeology or heritage or the cultural sector in general, to succeed you must be proficient at collaborating with very many people, many of whom have different interests, some of whom work at obvious cross-purposes. This is a fact. That this fact is not nurtured and engrained in every student from the moment they begin their studies seems a tremendous weakness of the profession. When you start to lead your own projects, you quickly become aware of just how important it is to be good at caring for others, resolving tensions between others, enabling productive communication and sharing between others.
Have fun with the people you work with. Especially on intensive, field-based projects – but, really, in any circumstance – build in significant time for fun, games, laughing, play, dancing, singing, music and creativity. The benefits are many and obvious. I can genuinely say that I’ve made most of my greatest friendships and (what are sure to be) lifelong human bonds through my projects.
I’m certain there’s more that could be added to this list & I welcome your additions, revisions, and constructive comments!
I’ll conclude by sharing with you the great news that I was promoted to Senior Lecturer last week, and from the end of September I’ll also be modifying my contract at York slightly to enable some exciting new professional developments. More on that to come!
Working in heritage is an outward-facing professional venture. For this reason, I think it’s important to enable those who are studying it to experiment with connecting to the larger world beyond the classroom. As we did in 2016 (see articles here), then, this year my Masters students and I have tested medium.com as a forum for sharing our ideas more broadly.
I have discussed the nature of and rationale for this task in my own piece on Medium about Everyday Diplomacy. And below I provide links to each of the students’ articles in turn. I hope you might take the time to read, think about, share and perhaps also comment upon these excellent pieces of work.
Stories Shaped by Space: Star Carr in the Yorkshire Museum by Mariko Abe, Sophia Mirashrafi, Thomas Hodgson, Anne-Marie Heuck and Sarah Mctiernan: a fascinating review of the Star Carr exhibition at the local Yorkshire Museum with especial attention paid to the effect space has on engagement with, and appreciation of, the displays.
The Scarborough Castle Diaries by Rachel Bateson, Yishan Chen, Aleen Stanton, Tom Reed, and Ryanna Coleman: five different takes on a visit to Scarborough Castle, prompting critical reflections on the social and emotional nature of one’s engagement with heritage.
Five Senses in the Georgian Era: A Sugar Trip by Kirsty Wilson, Pardis Zahedi, Dion Rice, Jennifer Cooke, and Greg Judges: an evocative proposal for a new multi-sensory exhibition at York’s Fairfax House looking at the entanglement of sugar production, York’s sweets industry, and the trans-Atlantic slave trade.
Bodies on Display by Ashley Fisher, Fiona Gibson, Nathan Bishop, Vivienne Cooling, Luke Towers, and Rachael Nicholson: a critical consideration of the varied forms of displaying human remains at cultural sites & their numerous ethical implications.