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Giovanni Battista Manfredi: First Italian anatomist who used a technique called ‘petrifaction’ to remove all water and replace it with hardened material effectively mummifying the specimen.
Frederik Ruysch: A Dutch anatomist who developed a technique for injecting human veins, embalming and drying to create specimens for his museum
Boydell Press
Chapter Title: International Perspectives towards Human Remains Curation
Chapter Author(s): Myra Giesen and Liz White
Book Title: Curating Human Remains
Book Subtitle: Caring for the Dead in the United Kingdom
Book Editor(s): Myra Giesen
Published by: Boydell & Brewer; Boydell Press
Stable URL: https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.7722/j.ctt284tgt.7
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1
International Perspectives towards
Human Remains Curation
Myra Giesen and Liz White
Introduction
T
he primary purpose of this book is to discuss the curation of human remains within the
United Kingdom (UK). However, one can only understand UK issues if one is also aware of
how remains are viewed, defined and curated elsewhere in the world. Legal and social considerations differ widely among and between countries and cultures relative to the handling of human
remains (Clegg et al in press; Lohman and Goodnow 2006). The goal of this chapter is to provide
examples of international perspectives to place UK issues into a broader context.
Obviously, individual and local perspectives on human remains are driven by many factors,
but simplistically, they are usually rooted in historic and/or legal differences among countries.
However, it is not the intention here to provide a treatise on different legal systems, but rather
to discuss core reasons why perspectives are what they are and then to place them into a useful
context for consideration relative to UK curation issues. For example, the most basic core question is ‘what are human remains?’
This question seems trivial on the surface, but how you answer it will vary depending upon
your view of the recent versus ancient dead, whether the remains are those of your ancestors
versus your enemies’ ancestors, or whether they are medical specimens, mummies, or collections on display or in storage. Furthermore, although we universally agree that human remains
comprise whole or parts of once-living people from the species Homo sapiens sapiens, even this
apparent ‘firm’ definition becomes problematic and differs among different cultures and legal
systems. Some national initiatives extend the definition to include fossilised hominids, whereas
other initiatives do not. Most keepers of collections agree that human remains include whole or
parts of skeletons, individual bones and teeth or fragments of them, soft tissue including organs
and skin, and slide preparations of human tissue; whereas hair and nails are only sometimes
included in this definition.
Additionally, the historic/cultural function of human remains changes through time, where
human remains may have been modified by humans and/or may be bound up with non-human
materials to form an artefact composed of several elements. Human remains incorporated into
non-human objects may be considered as part of the object requiring a different approach to
consultation and repatriation (NAGPRA Regulations, 43 CFR 10.2 (d)(1)). Finally, some historic
and contemporary artwork found in collections can be composed of human bone, teeth, bodily
fluids and/or soft tissue.
Regardless of the specific definition for human remains, almost everyone agrees that human
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Curating Human Remains
remains should be treated with dignity and respect, and descendants should have the authority
to control the disposition of the remains of their relatives. However, the way in which these
altruistic aspirations are manifested varies around the world. This chapter broadly considers how
human remains find their way into collections, especially within a social and historical context.
The chapter will then look at how different organisations and countries manage such collections,
including variables that influence care of the remains, and finally discusses international instruments that address their care.
How Human Remains Find their Way into Collections
It is common in Western cultures to excavate skeletons from both prehistoric and historic cemeteries; study them; possibly display them; and then store them as either a teaching or research
collection. This practice goes back centuries, with the majority of collections evolving variably and organically, including retention for religious purposes, tourist attractions, anatomical
comparisons, popular education, scholarly research and even as war trophies (Walker 2008).
Most people agree that some of these remains were acquired in ways that are deemed inappropriate by today’s standards. In many cases, these past activities have left affected communities
and third parties distressed, where now they seek to have the remains returned to their ‘rightful’
owners or, at least, to gain some control over their future.
To help put the issues into perspective, we will provide a brief ‘Western’ overview of human
remains within scholarly research. For some this will be common knowledge but for others it is
an important reminder of how human remains became part of collections.
In the written record, we can go back to the time of the Greek historian Herodotus, with
his detailed and methodical descriptions of the physical and cultural characteristics of humans.
He, like other travellers of the time, recorded information about the diverse people encountered. Such travellers often made wild speculations about the inhabitants of far-off and unknown
places, alleging that these foreign inhabitants were strange departures from normality.
Such fantasies lasted for many years; however, human variation had become more clear, and
factual, by the end of the 15th century with expanded overseas exploration. In fact, to the
surprise of many, new continents and islands were discovered and were found to be occupied
by perfectly ordinary humans. The Europeans, however, quickly distinguished themselves from
these ‘others’, specifically noting differences in skin colour, hair form, skull shape and body build,
among other factors. These differences intrigued many but particularly comparative anatomists,
who were quick to request human specimens, especially ones of ‘full-blood’, for dissection (see
Turnbull 2007).
For some, these superficial phenotypic characteristics were seen to be so significant as to
warrant new classifications of humankind. Consequently, reclassification was attempted to establish clear subdivisions to provide a better understanding of human variation. Although we will
not go through these systems (see Cooter 1984 for an overview), it is important to note that
many systems focused on head shape and brain size, and the presumed capacity for ‘intelligence’.
Phrenological societies proliferated (Fforde 2004), requiring both human and animal specimens.
The 19th century was the century of Darwin, with his theory of evolution; physical anthropology developed rapidly during this period (Shapiro 1959). By the late Victorian period, vast
inventories of human remains – both contemporary and archaeological – had found their way
into European and North American repositories (van Duuren et al 2007). Some items were
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Human Remains Curation: International Perspectives
15
collected for the sake of being collected, while others were collected to be studied with an
emphasis on establishing and describing racial traits with the ultimate aim of creating a global
map of human races.
By the early 20th century, the methodology of physical anthropology was solidly based on the
premise that ‘to measure is to know’ (phrase attributed to Lord Kelvin). This approach relied on
data from comparative research on living subjects in the field and dead subjects in the laboratory.
However, reducing data into defined anthropometric coefficients failed to produce any better
definition of race. Further, this need to measure and find differences contributed profoundly
to a largely racially based ‘us versus them’ worldview. Regardless, as research agendas prospered
during colonial activity, physical remains of colonial subjects were measured, photographed and/
or collected, and often people and their skeletons were reduced to data points, which exacerbated
the definition of the ‘other’ meaning lower, inferior or different (van Duuren et al 2007).
In the 20th century, the focus on race and typology within physical anthropology began
to fade as new advancements in science, such as genetics, blood group research and later the
discovery of DNA, came into vogue. Today, physical anthropology plays a role in a variety of
academic disciplines, such as anthropology, anatomy, biology, archaeology, pathology, paleopathology and forensic research. Historical human remains collections can, and often do, provide
the source of evidence for these new research initiatives.
In light of this overview, it is not difficult to understand the concerns that modern indigenous
people and other interested parties have about human remains collections. As stated elsewhere
in this book, our goal is not to enter into the debates about whether human remains should be
kept in collections, but rather to look at how these remains are being cared for within collections
and to consider international initiatives for their treatment.
Where are Human Remains Found Once Collected?
Given the discussion above, one can see that the practice of collecting human remains has a long
history, instigated by a host of interested parties for a range of purposes. Predictably, collected
human remains are found in a variety of places and not just in museums. As in the Introduction,
this chapter will use the term ‘repository’ to denote these locations. Additionally, repositories will
be limited to organisations that have a formal responsibility for the care of the human remains,
including museums, galleries, heritage sites, academic/medical institutions, research laboratories,
churches, libraries/archives and government agencies.
Repositories can possess either public or private collections. A single person, or perhaps a
family, amasses most private collections. As long as the collectors adhere to legal restrictions they
can add, remove, change, exhibit, loan, donate or sell the objects in their collection. Collectors
decide who gets to see their collection, and when, where and how the collection is seen, accessed
or used. Private collectors are both owners and curators of their collections. When a collection is
held by a public or private non-profit organisation, such as a museum or university, professional
standards should be upheld. Individuals and other organisations that possess human remains but
do not have formal responsibility for their care fall outside the scope of this chapter.
Human remains collections are often assembled into different categories depending on their
composition as well as the mission and resources of the repository in which they are located.
Categories include archaeological, ethnographical, scientific/medical, religious and aesthetic.
Some repositories focus on research, others on education, still others on public display; some do
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Curating Human Remains
all three; while other repositories keep their collections in storage until more resources become
available or interest is expressed to investigate them. Over the past four decades, international
policies, country-specific legislation and views of indigenous people concerning the treatment
of human remains have changed dramatically. As a result, repositories are rethinking how they
engage with their human remains collections, including their use and access.
What Influences the Care of Human Remains in Collections?
Repositories have a duty of care for the human remains in their control regardless of the questionable and, in some cases, unethical ways in which they arrived. The original intention of
preserving the dead or laying them to rest is disrupted once human remains become part of a
collection. For some, the status of person versus ‘object’ becomes skewed, with the approach
taken to their care dependent on the worldviews of individual keepers, but ultimately coming
down to the policies of the repository.
The care for collections, and especially so for human remains, is grounded in ethics, which are
influenced by worldviews, cultural beliefs and/or politics, and lead to policies and practices whose
success are largely dependent on access to resources. At the most basic level, human remains
may or may not be held in collections because of ethical considerations, regardless of national or
international doctrines that allow for such practices. We will now explore some of the variables
that influence the care of human remains collections.
Worldview/Beliefs
As mentioned earlier, worldviews do play a role in collection care. When it comes to human
remains in collections, Bienkowski (2006) expands on three fundamental worldviews (dualism,
materialism and animism) distilled by philosophers to categorise the relationship between the
body and the mind. These views reflect current beliefs and can help clarify expectations related
to the care of the dead. The categories are loosely summarised as dualism, where the body dies at
death but the mind survives (eg Christianity); materialism, where both the body and the mind
cease to have value (eg atheism); and animism, where the body and the mind are integrated in
life and death meaning both survive after death (eg many Australian Aborigines and Native
Americans, New Zealand Maori and modern pagans).
Repositories tend to adhere to dualistic/materialistic worldviews, where items in collections
are devoid of minds and, therefore, are inanimate objects. However, attitudes about human
remains and other items in collections are changing, especially as indigenous communities
start to manage repositories or take an active role in collection care (Ogden 2004; Kaus 2008).
Sadongei (2004) notes that incorporating religious practices and worldviews means that repositories need to have good communication with those communities from which the items originate.
She continues to say that after the knowledge is gained, the repository must refrain from applying
what they learnt from specific tribal representatives to other items in the collection. Nevertheless,
she advocates incorporating ritual care – such as feeding, the placement of an offering, gender
restrictions and handling advice – into collection management practice.
Following consultation with lineal descendants or culturally affiliated communities, the
National Park Service recommends that repositories defer to their wishes where possible when
it comes to handling and storage techniques and materials. The examples it provides include:
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Human Remains Curation: International Perspectives
•
•
•
•
•
17
Store human remains aligned in a particular direction (such as the cranium towards the
east).
Construct special storage containers (possibly using wood, plant or animal products
native to the tribe’s homeland).
Ensure that only organic materials touch the items. Possible methods to avoid direct
contact with archival foams include:
– covering the foam’s surface with archival tissue paper or unbleached muslin
– wrapping the item in archival tissue paper or unbleached muslin.
Store newly collected natural plant materials (such as bundles of tobacco) with the items.
Allow tribal members access to storage areas for relevant religious or ceremonial purposes.
This may include actions to protect:
– individuals working with or viewing the items
– the facility, collections, and items from a negative force.
(National Park Service 2001, 7:23–4)
Sometimes, it is not so much beliefs as it is preference. For example, at the Auckland War
Memorial Museum in New Zealand, Maori human remains are stored in a dedicated storage
unit for Maori-only human remains, separate from non-Maori humans (Auckland War Memorial Museum 2008).
Indigenous interests and beliefs are increasingly likely to influence attitudes towards human
remains management. For some repositories, a distinction exists between the recent dead and the
past dead, where it may be unusual to accession the recently deceased (possibly due to licensing;
see Chapter 3) but considered normal to acquire individuals or whole collections that are beyond
a certain time since death. In the UK, guidance documents (DCMS 2005; MGS 2011) indicate
that claims are unlikely to be successful for remains over 300 years old, and are unlikely to
be considered for remains over 500 years old. Elsewhere, it is not the time since death that is
more likely to trigger interest, but rather the cultural affiliation/origins of the deceased. Some
repositories must apply specific legislation depending on the cultural background of the human
remains (eg Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA) (25 USC 3001
(1990)) only applies to Native American human remains), while human remains from another
background in the same repository will probably be managed differently.
It seems probable that indigenous communities are more likely to control the remains of
their ancestors, when affiliation has been established, though this is not always the case. In some
circumstances, more than one current cultural community may be identified as being culturally affiliated with a collection of human remains, which can make following the communities’
preferences for treatment difficult. It should be said that no universal view exists among all
indigenous people regarding the care of human remains in collections, and not all indigenous
communities seek the repatriation or reburial of their ancestors. The Aymara Indian communities of La Paz in Bolivia took over the administration of the Tiwanaku archaeological site and its
two museums in 2000, choosing not to change the museum exhibitions or remove any of the
remains of their ancestors from display (Cordova 2006, 72).
Conversely, human remains of unknown origin or provenance may be deemed to have limited
educational and research value. This lack of provenance impacts on various aspects of their care,
such as access, loans, display and storage, and is likely to mean that the remains will not feature
in research unless further attempts are made to establish provenance.
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Curating Human Remains
More recently, contemporary pagan organisations have expressed an interest in the welfare of
ancient and loosely provenanced human remains held in repositories. Wallis and Blain (2007)
point out that paganism is a global phenomenon from a core originating in the British Isles and
Ireland, but with a wide reach including other parts of Europe, as well as Australia and the US.
Another difference related to the care of human remains concerns the perceived relationship
between the remains and their funerary objects. Some repositories may see a relationship between
these collection types, where the two are linked within the management system for the repository
and would certainly be considered together in the case of a claim. In fact, most claimants also
see this connection. This view, however, is not held universally by repositories.
Politics and Legal Contexts
The political systems of nations differ in many ways. Nevertheless, most serve to resolve conflict
both within and outside a nation. The care and retention of human remains has become a politically loaded issue, especially with the increase in indigenous rights and the emergence of postcolonial nations. The potential for conflict is high when it comes to the treatment of collections
that originated through colonial exploitation and discredited theories of race. Unsurprisingly,
indigenous human remains originating from Australia, Africa, New Zealand, Canada and the US
have been the focus of several decades of repatriation campaigns (Fforde 2004; Riding In 2005;
Fine-Dare 2008; Jenkins 2011a). Concerns expressed during these dialogues raised the point
that holding any kinds of human remains is problematic; these discussions therefore led to the
transformation of collection management policy and practice.
NAGPRA (25 USC 3001), signed into law by US President George Bush Sr in 1990, was
the first enacted legislation of its kind and was the direct result of a decade of political activism.
Additionally, it was the joint (political) declaration, in July 2000, by the Prime Minister of the
UK, Tony Blair, and the Prime Minister of Australia, John Howard, that set a framework for
repatriation in the UK:
The Australian and British governments agree to increase efforts to repatriate human remains
to Australian indigenous communities. In doing this, the government recognises the special
connection that indigenous people have with ancestral remains, particularly where there are
living descendants. (Howard 2000)
A natural extension of politics is human rights and recognition, which also plays a role in the
care of human remains. Most readers will be aware of controversies that exist related to making
a ‘legitimate’ repatriation claim (Burke et al 2008; Thackray and Payne 2009; Jenkins 2011a), but
may not think about the range of ‘interested parties’ during the collection management.
Generally, repositories find consulting with descendants and culturally affiliated communities
about their beliefs and interests acceptable. However, the level of proof needed to show these
connections differs between repositories. Some repositories restrict whom they consult based
on the origins of human remains. Note, however, that under NAGPRA, those consulted about
collections may not have legal rights to make claims (see National NAGPRA 2012). Most repositories do not consult with any cultural groups when the remains they control have little or no
provenance information. Repositories may seek advice about the care of their human remains
collections from conservators or human osteologists, but this tends to be part of normal collec-
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Human Remains Curation: International Perspectives
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tion management processes. This is in contrast to other repositories that wish to consult widely
with all interested parties on the future of all remains held.
Jenkins (2011b) points out that ‘body politics’ can be seen in current events with the recent
deaths of Gaddafi and Osama Bin Laden as well as the disposition of the body of Vladimir Lenin
that has been lying in state since 1924. Public opinion and political pressures around these cases
vary significantly regarding what should or should not have happened to these dead bodies.1
Research Strategies
Researchers also have an interest in the care of human remains in collections; especially as research
success can relate directly to the quality of documentation available and the preservation of the
remains themselves (see Chapter 5). Depending on the nature of the research question, repositories need to make decisions about whether destructive analyses should be performed on the
human remains. Both repositories and researchers must develop a better understanding of local
and international legislation and codes of ethics and practices to decipher collection histories
and engage effectively with stakeholders. Times have changed: research is now a privilege not
a right; justification and, in most cases, consultation are prerequisites to research regardless of
research techniques.
Resources
A variety of expertise, time and money is required to document, consult on, package, transport, remove contaminants from, de-accession and store human remains. Often though, human
remains are but one collection type held by a repository, so a collection must compete for limited
resources; few external funding sources are available to assist repositories in the care of their
collections.
An exception to this occurs in the US, where consultation/documentation grants and/or repatriation grants are specifically identified in the NAGPRA legislation (25 USC 3008). Grants are
available to Indian tribes, Native Hawaiian organisations and museums for purposes of assisting
in consultation, documentation and repatriation of cultural items, including human remains.
Although the funding amounts available for complying with NAGPRA have been viewed as
inadequate, it is nevertheless striking that over US$ 54m has been requested by tribes since 1994,
with US$ 23m being awarded (Giesen forthcoming). Similarly, US $26m has been requested
by museums, with awards totalling US $11.7m.These amounts are astonishingly high when
one considers the unrecorded sums spent by tribes, museums, federal agencies and National
NAGPRA to address the statute and regulations.
What Formal Instruments are in Place to Govern the Care of Human
Remains in Collections?
Over the past 40 years, six international instruments have been created that address the treatment of human remains. The United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation (UNESCO) created two conventions that peripherally address the issue of human
1
Admittedly, Gaddafi and Bin Laden are not in collections but Lenin is part of a collection.
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Curating Human Remains
remains: (1) the Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export
and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property in 1970; and (2) the Convention Concerning the
Protection of the World Cultural and National Heritage in 1972. The International Institute for
the Unification of Private Law (UNIDROIT) also created a convention, the Convention on
Stolen or Illegally Exported Cultural Objects, in 1995 that tangentially deals with the issue of
human remains.
It is the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) (2007)
that specifically addresses human remains in its Article 12, stating: ‘Indigenous peoples have the
right to … the repatriation of their human remains … States shall seek to enable the access and/
or repatriation of … human remains in their possession through fair, transparent and effective
mechanisms developed in conjunction with indigenous peoples concerned.’
Although the UNDRIP is a non-legally-binding human rights instrument, it affirms universal
standards for the survival, dignity and well-being of all indigenous peoples. It further set the
stage for indigenous involvement in negotiation of access and repatriation of their ancestors in
collections.
Through the World Archaeological Congress (WAC), some within the international archaeological community adopted the Vermillion Accord on Human Remains in 1989, which focuses
on respect for human remains generally; respect for the wishes of the dead, the local community
and relatives that claim them; respect for scientific research; and respectful disposal of human
remains after study. While this accord does not have legal power, it serves as a reasonable model
for future international legal bodies wishing to address this issue. The WAC Tamaki Makau-rau
Accord on the Display of Human Remains and Sacred Objects, adopted in 2006, builds upon
the principles of respect adopted by the Vermillion Accord. However, it focuses on the need for
permission to be sought if human remains and sacred objects are to be displayed, regardless of
media form.
The International Council of Museums’ (ICOM) Code of Ethics for Museums (2006) sets
minimum standards of professional practice and performance for museums and their staff. Within
the code, ICOM specifically addresses acquisition, research and display of human remains; in
all cases pointing to consistent application of professional standards and taking into account the
‘interests and beliefs of members of the community, ethnic or religious groups from which the
[human remains] originated, where these are known’ (ICOM 2006, Articles 2.5 and 4.3).
Nevertheless, no minimum standards for the care of human remains exist, largely due to the
diverse human beliefs and cultural expressions related to their care. Consequently, the standard
of care depends on country-specific legislation and the professional standards of the country in
which the repository is situated, as well as the interests and beliefs of descendants and affiliated
communities. No universal approach can be established as one community’s methods may not
be appropriate for another.
Márquez-Grant and Fibiger (2011) provide an edited handbook that includes 62 country
contributions from Europe, Asia, Africa, North America, South America and Australasia on
human remains legislation related to archaeological excavation, retrieval, analysis, curation and
potential reburial. This handbook provides a much welcome synopsis of a broad array of national
research traditions, methodologies and legislative structures. Nevertheless, it focuses on archaeological human remains and does not necessarily address other categories (ethnographical, scientific and medical, religious and aesthetic) of human remains held in many repositories worldwide.
Therefore, one needs to look beyond the summaries in the handbook to fully appreciate the laws,
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Human Remains Curation: International Perspectives
21
practices and attitudes afforded to human remains. This is especially true as individual repositories often create their own sets of collection management policies and guidelines.
Often the legislation and practices in the United States, Canada, Australia and New Zealand
are highlighted in discussions related to the treatment of human remains in collections (Seidemann 2004; Sanders 2005). These locations are selected for a number of reasons, but mostly
because they have established approaches that take into account the interest of the indigenous
communities.
Conclusion
In this chapter, we have provided examples of international perspectives towards human remains
to help place UK issues into a broader context. It seems that, regardless of where repositories
are located, most strive to preserve their collections for future generations. As we have shown, a
single practice is not universally acceptable, given the range of worldviews about mind and body.
Therefore, it is critical that repositories be sensitive to these views, and when appropriate work
with descendants and affiliated communities around the world to understand their collections
and the collections’ importance to descendants, community members, scholars, the public and
the repository itself.
Sadongei (2004, 19), in a discussion focusing on sacred objects, suggests that neutrality can
be the most important form of respect that repositories can show; where neutrality ‘takes into
account the diversity of human belief and cultural expression and acknowledges that no single
belief is privileged over another’. We concur with this approach and recommend that neutrality
be extended to the care of human remains, while balancing the spiritual and practical concerns of
descendants with the important historical information that human remains research can provide.
This would mean that repositories would focus on providing the highest standards of care for
human remains, while nurturing personal relationships, mutual trust and respect, and the recognition of common interests in human remains.
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Curating Large Skeletal Collections: An
Example from the Ancient Maya Site of
Copán, Honduras
Katherine A. Miller Wolf
ABSTRACT
Archaeologists strive to understand ancient lifeways, and bioarchaeological data provide honest and immutable evidence of the realities of
ancient society in the bodies of the dead. Given the importance of human remains in the archaeological record, a major component of the
author’s work has been devoted to the ethical responsibilities of bioarchaeologists in the treatment of the collections studied. However, the
curation of skeletal remains is often challenging because the conservation and storage of these delicate materials may be afterthoughts in
archaeological plans, being inadequately or incorrectly stored and sometimes treated to the same conservation conditions as more robust
artifacts and samples. This article offers guidelines and recommendations for skeletal curation based on observations of curation challenges
in a large collection in the subtropical Maya region. The collection was not well managed and human remains were not prioritized in the
conservation program. The challenges and mitigations are presented here.
Keywords: Maya, bioarchaeology, Copán, curation, at-risk collection
Los bioarqueólogos usan datos recolectados a través del estudio detallado de restos humanos procedentes de contextos arqueológicos. La
información proporcionada por el esqueleto ofrece una poderosa ventana hacia la prehistoria, informándonos sobre formas de vida, condiciones de salud o enfermedad, dieta, parentesco, migración y conflicto en el pasado. La relación íntima entre los vivos y los muertos es
necesariamente incluyente de respeto y una responsabilidad ética de manejar y curar adecuadamente los restos de aquellos que estudiamos.
Sin embargo, la conservación de las colecciones esqueléticas puede verse obstaculizada por una gran cantidad de desafíos a diversas escalas,
como la burocracia, climas políticos inestables, financiamiento insuficiente, falta de documentación de campo, espacio de laboratorio
inadecuado o falta de necesidades básicas como contenedores para almacenamiento o estanterías. Aquí se presentan el proceso y los
resultados de un proyecto llevado a cabo durante una década dedicado a la conservación y reubicación de la colección esquelética de Copán,
Honduras. Los restos humanos comisariados en el Centro Regional de Investigaciones Antropológicas (CRIA) incluyen más de 1.200 individuos
excavados por varios proyectos arqueológicos y de rescate en los últimos 125 años. Se presta especial atención a la logística de la
implementación de un proyecto de conservación a gran escala que considera posibles desafíos y soluciones en un clima tropical. Finalmente, se
ofrecen recomendaciones para prevenir problemas antes de que surjan tanto en la metodología de campo como en la de laboratorio.
Palabras clave: Mayas, bioarqueología, Copán, curación, colección en peligro
Copán marks the southeastern edge of the Maya region at the
transition of the southern highlands to the southern lowlands
(Figure 1). Copán is well known because of its sculptural program,
including the hieroglyphic stairway, and its role as a complex
city-state that controlled a rich source of jade and an expansive
territory. The residential groups surrounding the regal ritual center
have been the focus of long-term archaeological investigation
since 1890 (Andrews and Fash 2005; Fash 1983; Fash and Agurcia
Fasquelle 2005; Freter 2004; Gonlin 1993; Hendon 1988; Longyear
1952; Morley 1920; Sanders 1989, 1990; Webster 1989; Webster
et al. 2000). Within the patios and structures of each architectural
group, the Maya interred their dead beneath house floors, plazas,
and construction fill; in domestic middens; as offerings; and for a
Out of respect for diverse cultural traditions, sensitive photographs of human remains
generally are not accepted for publication in any SAA journals, however some waivers
of this policy are allowed by the editorial policies, when other alternatives to photography are not effective. Articles in Advances in Archaeological Practice 7(1), a theme
issue on The Practice and Ethics of Skeletal Conservation, discuss the need for sensitive and ethical care of human skeletons as they are excavated, documented, conserved, and curated by archaeological projects conducted around the world. Selected
images of human skeletons are published here to support education about the best
treatments for these human ancestors. No images of Native American or First Nation
ancestors are published in this issue. Prior to publication, figures in these manuscripts
were carefully reviewed by the Society for American Archaeology president and
president-elect.
Advances in Archaeological Practice 7(1), 2019, pp. 30–39
Copyright 2019 © Society for American Archaeology
DOI:10.1017/aap.2018.46
30
https://doi.org/10.1017/aap.2018.46 Published online by Cambridge University Press
Curating Large Skeletal Collections
correct damage when the cause, consolidant, or type of study is
unknown.
Given the quantity of burials excavated by two multiple-university
collaborative archaeological projects, PAC I and PAC II, project
bioarchaeologist Storey was prescient when in 1983 she started
the Copán Project (CP) numbering system for burials there. Each
burial was assigned a unique “CP” number that would permanently link it to the archaeological provenience information, and it
was inscribed on the individual’s bone fragments. When multiple
individuals were recovered from the same burial context, each was
assigned a unique CP number but maintained a burial number of
16-2A (CP 25) and Burial 16-2B (CP 26). By the early 2000s, Storey
and her students documented, inventoried, and enumerated each
bone fragment for 582 burials. The resulting inventory forms are
curated in the Copán laboratory library for on-site use.
FIGURE 1. Map of Maya Region of Mesoamerica. Modified
from GoogleMaps.
select few, in large tombs. As archaeologists investigated the
architecture and the growth and development of the site, burials
were regularly encountered in routine excavations because the
ancient Maya interred their dead in these contexts.
Inventory and Conservation History
The Copán skeletal collection is impressive in size (n = 1,200) and
has served as a research sample for topics including ancient DNA
(Merriwether et al. 1997), diet (Gerry 1997; Lentz 1991; Reed 1994,
1998; Reed and Zeleznik 2002), body modification (Guilbert 1943;
Tiesler Blos 1999), activity (Ballinger 1999), and general health and
disease (Whittington 1989, 1991, 1992; Whittington and Reed
1997). Storey’s work has been important for our understanding of
paleodemography (1985, 1992, 2007), the health of women,
children, and elites (1992, 1997, 1998, 1999, 2005), and nutrition
(1999). Storey’s work facilitated the initial organization and
inventory of the ever-growing Copán skeletal collection during the
1980s and 1990s. The development and maintenance of the
Copán skeletal collection remains a massive undertaking that
spans 40 years of collaborative research. Miller (2015) provides
details of the excavation, cleaning, and inventory, as well as a
selected research history of the burials, highlighting Storey’s
dedication in building the Copán collection. However, the collection was used for projects with different methodologies, and a
number of skeletal remains were treated with consolidants at the
behest of individual projects or were reconstructed by researchers
if their work required semicomplete crania to assess modification
patterns or postcranial remains for morphological studies. An
additional complication is that methods and materials used
on the collection were not documented, making it difficult to
To expand on Storey’s physical inventory of the CP burials, this
author began a large-scale digital inventory project in 2004 in
cooperation with A. Maca and J. Buikstra. The digital inventory
was created in Access , follows the format utilized by the University
of New Mexico’s Maxwell Museum skeletal database, and features
a page for each region of the skeleton (i.e., cranium or arm) and an
entry for each bone with a drop-down selection for side, level of
preservation of that element (75%), fragment
count, and weight. The data records can be accessed in either
Spanish or English. Other database features include a flexible
provenience entry field (to accommodate the variety in data
recording procedures from various projects) and a notes field for
each bone and burial (in case additional pertinent information is
available).
To date, 783 burials have been included in the digital Copán
burial database: 514 (of 585) burials with CP numbers, 142 burials
without CP numbers, and 127 burials curated at Harvard’s
Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology. An additional
190 burials have been identified for inclusion in the inventory.
Isolated human remains from 361 nonburial contexts and 260
isolated faunal remains were catalogued. An estimated 200 burials
from projects directed by S. Nakamura (Op. 64, PROARCO) were
not available for inclusion in the inventory or conservation project.
In all, the Copán skeletal collection includes approximately 1,200
individuals and 361 isolated human remains.
THE REHOUSING PROJECT:
CHALLENGES ENCOUNTERED AND
MITIGATION PROCEDURES
Storage of Collection
An initial challenge for any conservation project is determining the
current state of the collection. When this project began in 2004,
the remains were housed in a warehouse that was open to the
elements at the roofline. Other more durable materials, such as
sculptures, were also curated within the storage area but could
better withstand exposure and pests. In a back corner of the
facility, a series of 5 m tall shelves held large, folding, plastic crates
that contained shoeboxes filled with human remains. Each crate
held 5–25 individuals and weighed 11–35 kg. Further complications were the mixing of remains from different individuals within a
February 2019 | Advances in Archaeological Practice | A Journal of the Society for American Archaeology
https://doi.org/10.1017/aap.2018.46 Published online by Cambridge University Press
31
Katherine A. Miller Wolf
FIGURE 2. The Copán Skeletal Collection in the new facility in original crates (left) and an example of crate contents (right).
Photograph by Katherine Miller Wolf.
storage container when shoeboxes deteriorated and the separation of associated boxes (e.g., Box 1 of 3, 2 of 3, and 3 of 3)
that contained components of a skeleton, thus divorcing the
storage location of that individual’s thorax and cranium, for
example.
or date. Other projects favored structure numbers over lots or features or suboperations, and some kept the operation number but
recycled burial numbers annually by tacking a date to the burial.
This structure can lead to later confusion or transcription errors, such
as between Op. 84 Burial 1–95 and Op. 84 Burial 1–96.
Mitigation. In 2006, with the support of UNESCO and the World
Bank, the Honduran Institute of Anthropology and History began
renovating the physical structure of the Regional Center for
Archaeological Investigations (CRIA), and the author collaborated
on the design of the permanent repository for the Copán skeletal
collection with a space for cleaning and studying burials and a
separate space devoted to long-term storage. Once materials
were moved to the new facility, the first action was to note the
contents of each crate, assign a box number, and create a list to
locate and catalogue the basic details of the collection. This was
an essential step, as each crate could have included remains from
various operations, only portions of a skeleton, or materials other
than skeletal remains (Figure 2). The master box list was then
cross-referenced to the digital inventory.
Mitigation. Months were spent in the CRIA library searching for
original field documentation: photos, notebooks, lot forms,
sketches, maps, and final reports. The digital inventory and box list
were then cross-referenced again with recovered provenience
information. If only shorthand information was available, it was
documented and earmarked for further research in unpublished
reports or by contacting PIs to review their personal notes.
Variation in Provenience Information
Given that more than 75 excavation projects had been conducted
at Copán over 130 years, there was much variation in recording
standards, if they existed at all. In a few hundred cases, provenience information was condensed to shorthand on burial provenience tags (for example, “4-2a-111-345-8-9-78”) with no other
information. Original field notebooks were usually curated in the
CRIA library, and after some months of review, one notebook,
authored by a person writing tags for a project as a seasonal job in
the late 1970s and early 1980s, was recovered that contained the key
to the shorthand notes. Many belonged to a project that ran for
several seasons with various suboperations, and the shorthand
sequence of provenience information was inconsistent on burial
tags. In these cases, it was difficult to discern feature from lot, burial,
32
Missing or Incomplete Information on Burial
Forms
As with the search for key information in original field notes, burial
forms were consulted for mortuary data, and the author learned
key information was missing. Several projects depended on students or volunteers to complete extensive excavations, and
important information for mortuary analysis, such as position or
heading, was recorded by novices in vague or imprecise terms.
For example, an eager student in the 1980s indicated the “burial
heading” as “up” instead of north, south, east or west in all the
more than 80 burials he recorded. Another recorded burials only
in profile view at a 1:20 scale, rendering mortuary analysis impossible. In select cases, original burial forms were stored with the
skeleton and became nesting material for rodents.
Mitigation. There are few corrections for documentation errors,
missing data, or destroyed forms, as archaeological excavation
can occur only once. Cross-referencing any known information,
researching gray literature reports, and conversations with project
directors and staff can aid in recovering key information. Even so, a
Advances in Archaeological Practice | A Journal of the Society for American Archaeology | February 2019
https://doi.org/10.1017/aap.2018.46 Published online by Cambridge University Press
Curating Large Skeletal Collections
would excavate it in the future. The only provenience information
available was from the memory of the local excavation assistant,
now in his nineties. The damage to the burial was significant as the
clay had dried, hardened, and cracked and heavy objects had
inadvertently been stored on top of the burial.
The burial was slowly excavated using a spray bottle of distilled
water to directly and carefully loosen the clay matrix around the
bone, and metal instruments that could remove the hard clay
(dental picks or other small metal trowels) were used to pedestal
the remains as would be done in the field. Additional water was
applied below the bones after pedestalling, and the remains
could then be lifted with wooden instruments or by hand. Once
excavated and cleaned, the remains fit into a single small plastic
box and were integrated to the collection. In the end, the en bloc
removal of this burial was more damaging than excavation by a
nonexpert in the field would have been (Figure 4).
Mitigation. The past mistakes can never be fully corrected, but
the damage can be mitigated. Cleaning, resorting, and
rehousing the Copán skeletons constituted the lion’s share of
effort and time in this project, as each bone of each burial was
addressed.
FIGURE 3. Two burials affected by rodents with damage to
the provenience tags, inventory forms, and bones. Photograph
by Katherine Miller Wolf.
subset of the collection has incomplete mortuary or provenience
information or both.
Degradation of Collection over Time
The first three challenges are logistical hurdles that can be overcome with time and patience. However, the Copán skeletal collection faced a conservation crisis like many others across the
globe (Bawaya 2007; MacFarland and Vokes 2016; Marquardt et al.
1982; Voss 2012) where the climate, poor storage, and absence of
care caused permanent deleterious effects. The shoeboxes were
consumed by termites; rats made nests in the boxes and calvaria
from provenience tags, Tyvek, and cotton intended to support
delicate bone (Figure 3); insects colonies thrived; and bat guano
coated box lids, posing a health risk to project personnel. Bags
disintegrated, skeletal elements of one or more individuals
became mixed within crates, and uncleaned remains bore the
marks of post-excavation fragmentation.
Other burials were excavated en bloc with the best of intentions of
having an expert remove the skeleton from its matrix in the
laboratory. However, for these burials, an expert did not arrive
until decades later (in 2015), when the National Institute of
Anthropology and History (IHAH) requested that the author
excavate, clean, and curate the 15 most urgent cases that had
been en bloc for an unknown amount of time with no concrete
excavation plans by the associated project personnel.
One case stands out. It was a large wooden box measuring 1.5 m2
with the semiflexed burial of an adult male with cranial modification and jade dental inlays. While IHAH conjectured that the burial
was in this state for at least 20 years, conversations with the oldest
members of the Copán Ruinas community revealed that this burial
was excavated en bloc in 1953 with the intention that an expert
The rehousing project occurred from 2004 to 2013 with funding
from the PAPAC Project (directed by A. Maca from 2004 to 2006),
Arizona State University (2008 to 2010), and the National Science
Foundation (2012 to 2014, BCS-1207533) with the laboratory
assistance of three dedicated members of the Copán Ruinas
community (Don Marco Obtulio Cantillano, Don Luis Alonso
Cuellar, and Señorita Carolina E. Rodriguez Lopez) and the
laboratory director, Licenciado Norman Martinez.
At the outset of the inventory, a protocol for the remains was
established to replace bags, record provenience information,
clean remains as necessary, and sort the myriad remains and
boxes of the collection. Bags were replaced for each skeletal
element and then grouped accordingly (i.e., right hand, right arm,
etc.) and each burial was cataloged in the digital inventory with
provenience information from identifying tags, boxes, or other
materials. Each element received a new tag with all provenience
information, a count and weight of the fragments that make up the
bone (to keep track of degradation or loss), the date of accession
into the inventory, and the initials of the individuals working to
rebag and study those remains. In 2012 to 2013, with the funding
from the National Science Foundation, each element of each burial
was rebagged in high-quality 2 or 4 mm ziplock bags; placed in a
new, color-coded, hard plastic polyethylene box; and organized
according to operation and burial number. Finally, an air conditioner
and a five-gallon Frigidaire dehumidifier were installed in the Copán
osteology laboratory to maintain the collection at 25o C and 55% RH
(per conservator recommendations) to reduce the effects of mold,
humidity, and fluctuations in temperature that were compromising
the collection. The materials used, their respective costs, and the
estimated time needed are found in Table 1.
A final note on this challenge: it is not the author’s view that
excavators and principal investigators were willfully negligent with
the human skeletal remains; rather, circumstances, lack of on-site
experts, or lack of conservation knowledge contributed to the
state of the Copán collection. The situation has largely improved
February 2019 | Advances in Archaeological Practice | A Journal of the Society for American Archaeology
https://doi.org/10.1017/aap.2018.46 Published online by Cambridge University Press
33
Katherine A. Miller Wolf
FIGURE 4. The en bloc burial from 1953 before and after excavation in Box “Inv. 46, Clave5-22.” Photograph by Katherine Miller
Wolf.
Table 1. Estimated Material and Personnel Costs of the Copán
Skeletal Collection Rehousing Project.*
Expense
Total
boxes, three sizes
• 600 small (24 cm x 21 cm x 12 cm)
• 125 medium (41 cm x 27 cm x 15 cm)
• 30 large (56 cm x 41 x 22 cm)
plastic bags, 2 mm or 4 mm thick
$3,776
• 4,000 2 in x 3 in
• 3,000 3 in x 5 in
• 1,000 4 in x 6 in
• 1,000 5 in x 7 in
• 2,000 5 in x 8 in
• 1,000 8 in x 10 in
• 500 10 in x 13 in
• 500 13 in x 18 in
baggage fees to transport bags to Honduras
$1,365
dehumidifier, portable
$203
air conditioner, wall mounted
laboratory maintenance (since 2012)
$698
$600
Complications Encountered in Developing
Countries
$400
miscellaneous supplies
• 500 sheets of acid-free tag paper
• 1,000 latex box labels
• 200 fade-resistant permanent pens and markers
$1,000
personnel for 120 weeks of inventory and rehousing
$15,600
Total
$23,642
*Does not include the PI’s travel, room, or board in Copán, estimated to exceed
$15,000 (encumbered by the PI or through grants, depending on the year).
because physical anthropologists now serve as project members
or consultants, project staff are being trained in proper methodology for human skeletal remains, and projects are taking a longitudinal approach by considering long-term conservation at the
outset of excavations.
34
Projects have begun to earmark funds for long-term conservation
so that subsets of their excavated materials do not become
abandoned. The Copán skeletal collection was derived from the
work of hundreds of projects over a century and has provided an
impressive and unique window into life in the past. The skeletal
collection was treated as a special class of material on which few
experts could advise and was sequestered because of its perceived importance. Paradoxically, it was this intended protection
that led to its degradation over time. Today, the collection is
curated in such a way as to protect these delicate materials for
future study and as part of the important cultural patrimony of
Honduras and the Maya descendant population.
Beyond the state of the remains themselves, there were additional
complications that magnified the profound challenge of addressing decades of damage in the collection. The CRIA is run by a
handful of full-time staff, and it is a difficult job for which no academic training is available. Expertise is derived from experiential
learning, and the staff effectively manages the challenges of rolling blackouts, political instability, and lacking resources that are
ever present in the country’s sociopolitical climate. Political
machinations affect fieldwork through permit compliance, collection access, and grant monies allocations. Governments may
topple, as was the case in the Honduran coup of 2009, and
research may have to wait for stability to return. Academic politics
may interfere, and access can be revoked or limited, to the detriment of objects of material culture, including human remains.
Mitigation. One must respect, engage, and cooperate with the
staff and interested parties at any site or laboratory. Time should
be invested in teaching osteological and conservation techniques
to create local experts if none exist. It is incumbent upon
researchers to offer their expertise and teach what to do and
explain how to do it instead of just undertaking analysis with no
Advances in Archaeological Practice | A Journal of the Society for American Archaeology | February 2019
https://doi.org/10.1017/aap.2018.46 Published online by Cambridge University Press
Curating Large Skeletal Collections
thought toward teaching community members to become
experts. Work with local projects, schools, and universities to train
students in field and laboratory methods. Be certain that there can
or will be local experts to empower local communities with their
cultural patrimony and to prevent collections from being left to
deteriorate if a foreign expert is not available.
RECOMMENDATIONS FOR THE
FIELD AND LABORATORY
As a discipline, archaeology is moving toward the ethical practice
of investigation that includes careful planning related to the
long-term storage of the remains we excavate and study. After
nearly two decades of bioarchaeological field and laboratory
work, the author has observed the long-term effects of excavation,
research, and conservation decisions and has been part of
implementing long-term conservation plans for various archaeological projects in the Maya region. The recommendations for
projects regarding materials, procedures, and recording standards
are offered here and are apropos to tropical and subtropical
environments with 80% to 90% humidity, and they build on
standard sources for bioarchaeological research (Bass 1995;
Buikstra and Ubelaker 1994; Ubelaker 1978) and more recent work
on conservation (Cassman et al. 2007).
A project must have standards and plans in place to ensure clarity
in language and forms, effectiveness of materials, and accuracy
through redundancy. Forms, reports, and notes should be
recorded in the language of the country in which research occurs.
Having original forms in the local language prevents data loss
from translation or transcription errors of key details. As Freiwald
(2019) notes in this issue, burial forms should include the full name
of the excavator, as initials can be forgotten or lost over time;
metric data collected on the skeleton in situ; documentation of
the degree of preservation; a skeletal inventory either as a list
or by coloring the figure of a complete skeleton; age and sex
estimations by the excavator (guidelines of sex estimation metrics
and morphological variants can be included on the forms if
specialists will not be on site); and checkboxes confirming the
existence of photographs, field drawings, and lists of associated
artifacts. Burial forms should list materials that should be used for
burial excavation and transport. Provenience information should
be recorded as often as possible, such as on photo boards, on
tags within bags, on each bag in the field and the laboratory, and
in field notes. A shortcut in the field can result in a terrible
headache in the lab. In this case, redundancy is our ally. Finally,
the best solution when excavating burial contexts is for a
bioarchaeologist or physical anthropologist to be a member of
the field team or at least a consultant who can be regularly
contacted.
Unfortunately, there is no single answer to the question of the
specific materials that should or should not be used for excavation, cleaning, and conservation, as it depends entirely on the site
(as reflected in this issue). However, the number of resources has
increased in recent decades (Bowron 2003; Childs and Corocan
2000; Cassman et al. 2007; MacFarland and Vokes 2016; Roberts
and Mays 2011; Ubelaker 1978), and checklists are available to
guide the process (Childs and Benden 2017; Sullivan and Childs
2003). This project permitted the author to observe the long-term
effects of various methods and types of materials employed,
resulting in the following recommendations.
Excavation and Transport
Dirt should be brushed from bones in the field. Remove soil from
the surface and from the medullary cavities, screen it with a < 1/4
in screen, and collect any soil with small fragments of bone for
subsequent flotation. If bones are fragile, aluminum foil sheets or
trays are a fine choice for the temporary transport of remains but
should never be a permanent storage material. At Copán, there
are numerous examples of bones stored in foil for 2 to 30 years
that became mixed as the foil disintegrated, that lost provenience
information because it was written on the foil alone, or that were
affected by the oxidation of the foil. Plans might include removing
the foil shortly after transport, but often that does not occur, foil
oxidizes, and as Beaubien (2019) suggests, that could alter the
chemical composition of bone. Provenience information should
not be recorded only on the foil because it may degrade or tear.
Paper bags are a suitable alternative to aluminum foil for relatively
well-preserved bones. They are often easily accessible even in
remote locations, and they effectively and gently wick moisture
away from dirty and damp bone. Bones transported to a lab in
paper bags can be left for a week to a month (depending on the
humidity in the region) to stabilize before attempting more thorough cleaning, washing, or analysis. As with foil, paper is not a
long-term storage material, especially in facilities where rodents
and termites may nest in boxes of human remains.
Avoid removing remains en bloc unless plans are in place for the
subsequent excavation within 12 months. If that is not possible,
evaluate whether the burial should be excavated or left in place.
Burials left en bloc for years or decades, despite the best intentions of excavators, will suffer irreparable damage as the soil
expands and contracts, creating postexcavation fractures to the
bone. If left too long, excavation becomes impossible.
Consolidants
Skilled conservators use consolidants with success because they
are trained in the techniques and materials to use for each case.
However, nonconservators should not use consolidants because
they can have long-term effects that permanently damage bone.
In a subtropical humid environment, the consolidant may survive
well but will result in further bone breakage, thus preventing
future conservation, reconstruction, and scientific analyses. It was
observed that water-soluble consolidants failed after only 20 years;
Elmer’s glue yellowed and peeled layers of bone; shellac so
degraded underlying bone that isotopic analyses (Sr, C, etc.) were
futile; and consolidants of unknown origin could not be dissolved
with water, acetone, or ethanol (Figure 5). If consolidants must be
used, consult or hire a conservator to apply them, and document
exactly what was used on burial forms, in reports, in notes, and
perhaps even on a simple tag in the burial box.
Storage Bags
During the Copán collection inventory, it became apparent that
projects that washed, dried, and housed their burials in 2–4 mm
thick ziplock plastic bags with a small hole punched in one corner
were in the best condition. Burials curated in plastic bags
February 2019 | Advances in Archaeological Practice | A Journal of the Society for American Archaeology
https://doi.org/10.1017/aap.2018.46 Published online by Cambridge University Press
35
Katherine A. Miller Wolf
Boxes
Boxes should be selected for durability while keeping in mind the
chemical makeup of the material. At Copán, polypropylene (#5)
plastic boxes were selected, as this type of plastic is fatigue
resistant, mechanically rugged, heat resistant, and commercially
available.
FIGURE 5. An example of a reconstructed skull with consolidant that has failed. Photograph by Katherine Miller Wolf.
purchased in the local market, however, were in very poor condition, as those bags are designed to deteriorate within a decade.
Plastic may seem counterintuitive in a humid environment, but it is
the most durable material and was the least affected by rodents or
insects. Conservator Harriet “Rae” Beaubien observed and then
advised the author that this material choice appeared to be best
for this site. It can be difficult to locate quality plastic bags in
remote locations, requiring the project team to carry them in
luggage or have them delivered by a shipping agency, which
generally involves associated importation fees, taxes, and delivery
costs. Approximately 13,000 bags were required for this rehousing
project. They were purchased from a manufacturer in Indianapolis,
Indiana (L & M Bag and Supply Co.) and transported as luggage
over many trips. The sizes of the bags needed constitute another
consideration (see Table 1 for general quantities). It is important to
choose an appropriate bag size for the element (Cassman and
Odegaard 2007:113). Overall, the effort and costs associated with
quality bags is balanced by the benefit of security for a collection.
The effectiveness of the rehousing and use of plastic bags was
evaluated in May 2018, and the bags reduced incidences of mold
and rodent or insect infestations and provided stability for the
remains.
Tags, Labels, and Pens
Care must be taken in choosing tags. Humidity, rodents, insects,
and costs should be considered. Tyvek is a popular material, but
the combination of Tyvek or notebook paper tags with human
remains attracted rodents to the Copán collection. Because of
this, the inventory and rehousing project made new tags cut from
sheets of conservation grade acid- and lignin-free, 24 lb cotton
paper and curated original tags or other labels with the burial in
their own bags in the event of rodent contamination or friability.
Provenience labels on the burial boxes were made of water- and
fade-resistant latex to ensure consistent and permanent labeling
of burial boxes. Provenience information was recorded on the new
tags using Sakura micron pens, Sharpie acid-free pens, or
fade-resistant, ultra-fine-point Sharpie markers. The selection of
the labeling materials must be done with care, considering
cost, availability, and any chemicals that such materials could
introduce.
36
One must consider the limitations of space, the funding available
for the project, and the function of the boxes (Cassman and
Odegaard 2007:110). At Copán, only one room with limited
shelving was available for storing the remains. To maximize the
storage capability, the rehousing team calculated the space each
burial would require based on the degree of preservation and
completeness of the skeleton. Every effort was made to give each
burial its own box and to ensure that all elements of a single
individual were curated in the same box following indigenous
value orientations (see Sadongei and Cash Cash 2007).
Availability of materials should be a consideration. In Honduras, it
was impossible to find 1,000 boxes of the same type in the nearby
small town or in major cities. The author worked with a local shop
owner to order the required quantity from a contact in a nearby
country. Boxes took a three-month journey overland from central to
coastal Mexico, to a barge bound for Honduras, and then overland
to Copán. It is essential to plan for the logistical constraints of
securing materials within the country where conservation occurs.
In the United States and Europe, boxes designed specifically for
human skeletal remains are available, along with the recommendations on how to best utilize them (see Cassman and Odegaard
2007). However, such boxes would be oversized for the extremely
fragmentary remains present in ancient Maya collections, difficult
to transport to Central America, and cost prohibitive for at-risk
collections of more than 1,000 remains requiring urgent rehousing
with modest funds. If funding, time, and space allow, excellent
choices of high-quality boxes are plentiful, but if logistical realities
prevent their use, work with local contacts to secure the best
boxes available. The Copán collection is now curated in boxes
that alternate between two colors to effectively separate remains
excavated by different archaeological projects with distinct operation numbers (Figure 6).
Cleaning Remains
Once materials are transported from the field to the lab and are
stable after temporary storage in paper bags to regulate the
humidity levels within the bone, they should be cleaned of any
adhering matrix from the field and allowed to air-dry completely
before long-term storage. The decision whether to wash remains
depends on the condition of the remains, national or cultural
protocols, facilities, personnel, plans for analysis, and whether the
environment will allow the materials to dry in time for storage.
Generally, preference is to clean remains, as it allows for the most
detailed analysis so that correct assessments of age, sex, disease,
health, and morphological features can be achieved. The best
procedure is to have a physical anthropologist or bioarchaeologist
on staff or as a consultant who can advise on the correct method
for each burial.
In the Maya region, the best way to clean a bone from an excavation is to place it over a fine screen (
