Imaginary woods

Often, when we think about the past, we do so in our imaginations, using the pictures and impressions we have picked from our shared visual culture, we mix the real things we find into a fantasy world.  Envisioning the environment in terms of its familiar topography and plants does not present much of a problem, domestic animals are bits hazier, but most of the things that made up the fabric of life just don’t survive here in our damp climate.  However, even trees in the picture may not be clear, the focus of archaeology is on tools, seldom extending to a consideration of the materials and products that gave them utility and value.  How to discuss, visualise and define things that no longer exists except in the imagination is one central issues of presenting archaeology.

Where is the woodshed?

Much of the material culture of past was fabricated from timber, and, just as significantly, fuelled by wood, a material that is usually invisible to archaeology.  Thus, provision for fuel storage, like sanitation and water supply, is one of the basics that have to be considered in the analysis of built environments.
Traditionally, firewood is measured by stacked volume; a “cord” being a stack of 8x4x4 feet, or 128 cubic feet, including the spaces between logs.[1]  The calorific value of a cord will depend mostly on the actual mass of solid wood and its density, so it is difficult to be precise or make comparisons, but we could nominally say a cord was equivalent to 3,341 kwh [2].
A medium sized house in the UK uses on average 13,500kWh of gas for heat and cooking [& 3,200kWh of electricity] [3], so to replace this with wood require about 4 cords [16’ x 8’ x 4’]; so a year’s supply would fill the garage, or perhaps the spare bedroom.

Archaeology, wood, and dog walking

When I need to think about what to write next, I go and see my friend Daisy, and we go for a walk in the woods. She is a very good listener, but gets impatient with my interest in the trees, as hers mainly involves games with a stick. Thinking about trees is the basis of much of my research about archaeological structures, and for Daisy, sticks are the fundamental part our shared culture. Throwing sticks, in some form or other, is an important and fundamental human skill; as a retriever, Daisy enjoys the chase and hunt for the stick. Possession of the stick is the object of the game.

Each tree we pass can be viewed as a source of material for a whole variety of cultural artefacts, but you have to concentrate on Daisy, or you will miss her hiding the stick for you to find. Our wooden heritage is usually almost invisible to the archaeologist and lost to posterity, leaving us to conceive of the past in terms of tools, rather than product or materials. When the stick becomes lost or stuck in a tree, Daisy will locate a suitable fallen branch and attempt to break off a suitable piece so we can continue the game; Daisy is a tool-making dog.

Vitruvius on Trees

Marcus Vitruvius Pollio, better known as Vitruvius, is one of those rare individuals from the ancient world whose thoughts and ideas have survived him. He was a contemporary of Julius Caesar, and wrote the only significant surviving book about Roman architecture. His book, De architectura, known as The Ten Books on Architecture, is dedicated to emperor Augustus, and provides a unique insight into the thoughts and perceptions of architect living two thousand years ago.[1]

The passage of time has effectively shredded the vast the majority of written material from the ancient world, so it is difficult to set Vitruvius in a wider context. Most of what we know about him has been second-guessed from his book, and his precise origins and even his name remain the matter of debate.[2]

It is thought that he served a soldier with Julius Caesar, probably in the artillery, and then worked as an architect after he retired from the army.

However, following its rediscovery in 1414, a series of translations in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries made De architectura an important text for the Renaissance. It was central to the understanding remains of the classical world, and consequently, influential in the subsequent development of architecture.