What does it mean to care for culture? How does an individual, a community, a government, a nongovernmental organization, or an international agency care for objects entangled in the legal and illegal antiquities trade, held in contentious museum collections, or at risk due to cultural or natural disasters? How do the various stewards of the past work across the unpredictable boundaries of private, public, and community ownership? Caring for culture involves a range of activities and commitments aimed at safeguarding tangible and intangible cultural representations and ensuring that they remain accessible to present and future generations while honoring the traditions, beliefs, and identities of the contemporary communities. This editorial introduction to this thematic issue of Advances in Archaeological Practice begins with an analysis of the duty of care for the Neo-Assyrian reliefs at the Virginia Theological Seminary, asking whether the decision to sell one of their fragments was caring for culture or a commodification of the past. The remaining contributions to this issue share the theme of caring for culture, acknowledging and building on the enduring scholarship of Neil J. Brodie and Patty Gerstenblith.

Many archaeologists recognize a need for a more proactive archaeology, one that is responsive to the goals of communities and so one that carries the potential to advance restorative justice and reclamation. But this work requires shifts in time and resources. Such high-investment community archaeology comes with unfolding developments, or cascade effects. We frame positive ones as including finding, honoring, elevating, and protecting cultural heritage and suggest these may offer those grappling with accommodating such shifts practical examples of the benefits. Our example comes from the Great Bay Archaeological Survey (GBAS) focused on colonial New Hampshire’s Great Bay Estuary/P8bagok (ca. AD 1600–1780). With years of community engagement in place, a landowner had heard of GBAS and stopped development when he noticed large stones. Here, we found an early colonial homestead site, the Meserve Garrison, and our attendant research traced out a trajectory of colonial expansion from Indigenous homelands transformed into English property, property into intergenerational wealth. With rising wealth came the dispossession of labor; GBAS found enslaved (freed) Africans lived in this rural northern New England frontier, a place not typically associated with chattel slavery. We are working to protect the site and publicly commemorate and restore an accurate, inclusive, colonial history.

This article uses the lens of commodity theory and, in particular, the scarcity effect to consider ways that consumer desire is reflected within auction catalogs for cultural objects. Taking Brodie and Manivet’s (2017:3) assertion that “auction sales do not offer a clear window onto the broader antiquities trade” as a motivating initial hypothesis, I find that auction catalogs do represent marketing material that can provide at least a blurry window onto the needs, wants, and desires of consumers acting within the market for archaeological and heritage objects. Consumer motivation at an auction is notoriously difficult to assess externally and has long represented a gap in the analysis of public antiquities sales. Failures to effectively regulate market consumption may relate to a misunderstanding of the people who are being regulated. Using more than 50 years of auction sales of Pacific cultural items as a case study, I present auction narrative analysis as a method to consider consumer desire and thereby inform heritage policy and market interventions.

In October 2022 at the annual board meeting of the Southeastern Archaeological Conference (SEAC), a new image policy for the journal Southeastern Archaeology was adopted that prohibited publication of photographs of funerary objects/belongings. In the discourse surrounding these new policies, a range of misunderstandings and mischaracterizations regarding consultative, collaborative, and community-based Indigenous archaeology were highlighted. Through a range of examples and personal experiences, this paper explores some of the realities of collaborative archaeological practice in the Indigenous American Southeast and aims to contextualize and mediate some recurring misunderstandings. Of particular importance and focus is the unique concept and definition of “the community” as it relates to collaborative practice across Indigenous North America. Importantly, I emphasize that southeastern archaeology and southeastern archaeologists are doing transformative work that puts us in a position to be leaders in the ongoing structural changes to our discipline.

This article builds a framework for understanding both the observable and unobservable features of art fairs and how those structures are created through material and sensorial elements. It draws on the concept of atmospheres and broader discussions of affect to analyze the transgressive thrill present at art fairs, presenting an art fair as a space of commerce masked in the appearance of a museum-like space. This article explores how emotions and lures are structurally produced within the fair and how people are encouraged to collect. Within this space, a desire is cultivated via an opportunity to transgress the familiar norms of the museum environment, which fosters the development of a relationship between a person and an object. In this deeply affective space, rational responses to objects with unclear origins may be suspended. Through focusing on why people collect and how desire is generated we can better understand markets, including criminal markets, for highly desirable objects.

Section 106 of the National Historic Preservation Act requires US federal agencies and their applicants to consider historic properties affected by their proposed actions. Guided principally by architectural historians and archaeologists throughout the 1980s, Section 106 reviews focused on identifying discrete structures and sites and then evaluating them in terms of dominant society aesthetics, histories, and sciences. By the 1990s, Section 106 participation by consulting Tribes and other cultural resource stewards obliged federal agencies to address a broader spectrum of historic properties and values. Agencies soon began using cultural landscape studies and other research and consultation tools to “match” historic property identification and assessment processes to the scale and complexity of proposed undertakings. The Section 106 review for the SunZia interstate transmission line (2009–2024) shows that the federal government has yet to consistently meet mandates to identify and assess elements other than archaeological/architectural historic properties. Our surveys of historic preservation professionals and available cultural landscape studies underscore disconnections between practitioner preferences for and the federal agency conduct of cultural landscape studies. They also highlight standards to use in evaluating the adequacy of cultural landscape studies. We recommend six attributes as essential to all cultural landscape study designs, methods, and applications in the Section 106 process.

This article contributes to the debate on illicit antiquities and deterrence. First, I briefly examine what has been written about deterrence in the literature on illicit antiquities. Second, I review the criminological research literature on deterrence to define the concept and explain its mechanics; that is, how, according to the best state of current knowledge, deterrence “works” to persuade people not to commit crime. Third, I consider what this criminological knowledge base means for deterrence in the field of illicit antiquities. Deterrence remains a developing idea, rich with practical implications for crime prevention but also harboring some profound unresolved questions about precisely what drives human action in certain contexts. Nonetheless, we can aim to gain a more rounded understanding of the concept than has previously been applied to illicit antiquities studies.

This article is an introduction and guide to investigating past relationships between climate and human behavior. Improving understanding of these relationships is essential as humanity confronts the challenges of our warming world. However, how to investigate potential climatic influences on human behavior in the past is rarely presented or discussed as a distinct mode of inquiry. This article aims to fill this gap by providing a practical tool kit for students, archaeologists, anthropologists, and other historically focused social scientists. It is structured as a series of seven key steps to creating a research design for a climate and human behavior study, from identifying research questions to presenting results. Most of the conceptual models, methods, data, and examples provided have worldwide relevance and are informed by the long history of climate and human behavior studies in the North American Southwest. By expanding competence in this domain, we can enrich documentation and interpretations of the past and insights will emerge that will contribute to preparing for and responding to our warming world.

This article explores archaeological practice as regards the study and publication of unprovenanced artifacts, particularly elements of ancient arms and armor. It describes the reasons why publication is thought to be prejudicial for archaeological research and considers the possible utility of some counterarguments by way of an examination of the publication policy of the European Association of Archaeologists. It concludes by arguing that archaeologists in favor of study and publication need to do more to validate their position.

Commingled human skeletons have the potential to reveal information about ancient funerary traditions through detailed bioarchaeological analyses of element representation (via minimum number of individuals, or MNI) and postmortem distribution. While MNI estimates are often presented in a perfunctory way, calculations using more nuanced methods may offer insight into taphonomic alteration and mortuary practices no longer visible to archaeologists. At the Early Bronze Age communal tombs of Unar 1 and 2 at the Shimal Necropolis in Ras al-Khaimah, United Arab Emirates (UAE), MNI counts using skull, leg, and foot fragments varied dramatically, probably a result of differences in cortical bone density but also of cremation practices. Additionally, the presence of more elements from the left side of the skeleton suggests continuity with Neolithic interments in which individuals were preferentially laid on their right sides. Complex arrays of internal tomb chambers likewise demonstrate no particular preference for certain skeletal elements, indicating bone was not intentionally relocated to different areas of the tomb following cremation. These patterns differ from other tombs in the region, highlighting the need to more critically assess mortuary practices through “back-to-basics” approaches involving MNI estimates, particularly when involving large numbers of individuals represented by commingled and fragmentary bone.

Cultural objects are sold via global, public networks, where market stakeholders rely on the services of other actors such as academics, authenticators, and restorers to facilitate and legitimate this trade. This article will build on Neil Brodie’s examination of the role scholarly facilitators play in the illicit trade in cultural objects by exploring the harmful consequences of such scholarship, using the case studies of Emma Bunker and Mary Slusser as examples. This article argues that those of us with intellectual authority and control interacting with cultural objects should reflect on the broader social context of our research and the consequences of our knowledge production—and reckon with the exploitative and colonial foundations of the knowledge we build on. Ongoing ethical awareness and reflexivity need to be integrated into our practice to support and foster social justice. The article ends with some recommendations on how to incorporate these ideas into academic practice.

Zooarchaeologists routinely analyze assemblages that were initially sorted into major animal type (birds, mammals, fish, invertebrates) by students or lab technicians with varied backgrounds in zooarchaeology. Sorting errors are probably made in this initial phase, which can affect taxonomic representation and understanding of human–animal relationships. Recent study of the immense faunal assemblage (over 1 million NSP [Number of Specimens]) from Čḯxwicən (45CA523), a 2,700-year-old Lower Elwha Klallam village located on the coast of Washington (USA), allows us to systematically analyze trends in sorting errors. For example, 22.6% of the bird bones included in our sample were initially missorted into other taxonomic groups, primarily mammal, but also fish and invertebrate. Fish bones were less frequently missorted, but certain taxa with unusual elements were affected. More than one-fourth (27.3%) of all mammal bone chips (debitage from tool production) were missorted. Failure to recognize and mitigate these errors could lead to significant biases. Lab managers need to recognize the potential for sorting error at the beginning and train lab technicians in the kinds of faunal remains they will be encountering, including distinctive elements. Collaborative researchers need to develop protocols for transferring specimens, and scholars working with “legacy collections” should not assume the collections were sorted correctly.

The increasing destruction of cultural heritage in conflict zones has exposed the shortcomings of current crisis response frameworks. Traditional, state-led mechanisms have struggled to address the complexities and rapid developments of modern warfare, leading to the emergence of more flexible, decentralized approaches. In this context, civil society organizations (CSOs) have emerged as key actors, stepping in to address the shortcomings of national governments and international heritage institutions. This article explores the evolving role of CSOs in emergency cultural heritage protection, focusing on Heritage for Peace (H4P) and its interventions in Syria, Sudan, and Gaza. Through case study analysis, this research examines the logistical, ethical, and operational challenges faced by H4P, and presents a model of its strategic interventions in emergency contexts. This model illustrates the opportunities and constraints inherent in crisis environments, including mobility and safety risks, alongside structural challenges in cultural heritage protection, such as limited funding and short-term project cycles that hinder sustainability. The research advocates placing the local population at the center of emergency strategies, strengthening local partnerships, implementing proactive preparedness measures, and strengthening international cooperation mechanisms.

During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, women from Northern Rio Grande pueblos joined Ndee communities in western Kansas, where they made a local version of unpainted Tewa red ware. We investigate potential slip materials in the eastern High Plains and adjacent Central Plains, using CIELAB color data to graph red hue variation in collected pigments and slipped archaeological ceramics from 14SC1 and 14SC304. Although use of the CIELAB color system by archaeologists is well established, our approach is unique in its use of a* and b* graphs to describe and compare hue. Our graphs illustrate hue variation between red and yellow on the color wheel, facilitating comparisons and communicating color patterns more effectively than is possible using the Munsell system. We demonstrate that potters could have reproduced the red hues of Northern Rio Grande red ware in the different geological landscape of the Great Plains. Our collected pigments systematically vary in hue by geological formation or system. Two sampled geological formations in the eastern High Plains and adjacent Central Plains include pigments that fire to the “right” red, or the red hues of Northern Rio Grande red slips, and potters may have used one or both.

Cultural Property Agreements (CPAs) between the United States and foreign governments help to stop criminal activity at US borders by keeping looted and stolen art and artifacts out of American markets. Under US and international law, the United States can join CPAs to prevent looted and stolen antiquities and artifacts from entering the US art market, thereby fighting the illicit trade while allowing the legal trade to continue and even thrive. Moreover, bilateral agreements aim to lessen global demand for illicitly obtained or looted objects—especially because the United States makes up 42% of the legal global art market—while increasing responsible cultural exchange. The United States has signed CPAs with a growing number of countries around the world—generating mutual respect, strengthening global law enforcement, and protecting archaeological heritage in situ. From its inception, a key priority for the Antiquities Coalition (AC) has been shutting down markets to illicit antiquities, while increasing responsible cultural exchange. This article discusses the importance of barring antiquities traffickers from the multibillion US art market through legislation, international agreements, and executive orders—protecting both American consumers and our world heritage.

Within disciplines that aim to understand past cultures by studying the objects they made, research methodologies can move between example-based object-specific investigations and whole-of-corpus data-driven analyses. And when the count of extant objects is relatively small, every single individual object has the potential to uniquely contribute to new knowledge or transform existing paradigms. But how does a researcher know how many objects there are, where they are, how they have been studied and written about in the past, and which may be awaiting closer examination? This article introduces an object-literature framework that connects objects to the literature that mention them and creates an error-corrected resource that enables the tracing of objects through published literature and through time. The specific example described here applies the framework to khipus (knotted-cord recording devices from the Andes), to create the “khipu-biblio cross-reference.” Key findings include comprehending the pattern of khipu publications, identifying understudied khipus, and updating the count of known khipus and their locations. By applying the framework to any collection of objects, researchers and collections teams can draw substantial benefits and accelerate the generation of new knowledge.

As I pass the 40-year mark of work in cultural heritage and cultural heritage law, I am grateful for the opportunity to reflect on how the field has evolved since the mid-1980s. This reflection acknowledges the contributions of those who influenced the early development of this field and the way their work continues today through the scholarship and activism of their successors. Evolution on the international level was matched with domestic legal accomplishments in the United States—the world’s largest art market—with conclusive recognition of the principle of foreign state ownership to protect archaeological heritage, US ratification of the 1954 Hague Convention, and an expansion of US implementation of the 1970 UNESCO Convention. At the same time, threats to cultural heritage from armed conflict, other forms of violence, and climate-change-induced natural disasters continue, while the field has only started to reckon with the legacies of colonialism and imperialism often embodied in the large public collections in the European former colonial powers and those who purchased cultural objects from them. This article sets out four areas of cultural heritage law in which we have not succeeded sufficiently and the questions that remain for future generations to resolve.

The logistics, costs, and capacity needed to complete extensive archaeological pedestrian surveys to inventory cultural resources present challenges to public land managers. To address these issues, we developed a workflow combining lidar-derived imagery and deep learning (DL) models tailored for cultural resource management (CRM) programs on public lands. It combines Python scripts that fine-tune models to recognize archaeological features in lidar-derived imagery with denoising QGIS steps that improve the predictions’ performance and applicability. We present this workflow through an applied case study focused on detecting historic agricultural terraces in the Piedmont National Wildlife Refuge, Georgia, USA. For this project, we fine-tuned pretrained U-Net models to teach them to recognize agricultural terraces in imagery, identified the parameter settings that led to the highest recall for detecting terraces, and used those settings to train models on incremental dataset sizes, which allowed us to identify the minimum training size necessary to obtain satisfying models. Results present effective models that can detect most terraces even when trained on small datasets. This study provides a robust methodology that requires basic proficiencies in Python coding but expands DL applications in federal CRM by advancing methods in lidar and machine learning for archaeological inventorying, monitoring, and preservation.

This article presents an innovative workflow for the acquisition and storage of archaeological data. The system is based on open-source software to enhance method replication and media accessibility. QGIS software is used as the central platform, connected to a spatial database developed in PostgreSQL and managed with the SQL and Python programming languages. The aim is to achieve an efficient, flexible, and reproducible digital method for data collection and management that can be applied to surface archaeological surveys. During the implementation and development of the method, we have recorded over 4,600 archaeological remains in two different structures with traces of Upper Paleolithic activity in the Lower Gallery of La Garma (Cantabria, Spain). After 18 months of continuous work, the results obtained demonstrate the usefulness and versatility of this procedure, which can be adapted to each context and to the specific needs of each researcher. Our goal is not simply to systematize archaeological documentation, as traditionally proposed, but to establish a simple and robust method for data collection and preservation, accessible to any user. Its fully open-source approach aims to promote a model that is nurtured by the use and contributions of the research community.

This review considers how scientific archaeological publications, especially those relying on new digital technologies, can become sensationalized for the public in popular media. I present three separate examples of lidar-based mappings of ancient landscapes in the Amazon and Central Asia, each initially published by archaeological teams in the journals Nature or Science since 2022. These academic publications were followed by many news articles in the popular press. A common trope of these popular presentations includes the concept of “lost cities” being finally “found” by the lidar surveys. This oversimplification usually ignores existing knowledge, especially that of Indigenous local communities and archaeologists. We archaeologists should, therefore, become more aware of the potential consequences of our scholarly communications. We should consider the public’s experience with parsing scientific advances and what ways we can try to influence the public discourse.