Teaching Tools: How to set a curve

Training in graduate student instruction covers a multitude of topics: how to encourage  an inclusive pedagogical atmosphere, how to facilitate discussions of socially controversial topics (which sadly, in this country, include the theory of evolution) and how to avoid having inappropriate relationships with your undergraduate students (here’s a hint – don’t go  drinking with them). However, my training did not provide the answers to such essential questions as  “What should I do if a student faints?” or “How do I set a grade curve for this ten-pound stack of exams?”.  Both of these things have happened to me over the course of my six+ terms of student-teaching. In regards to the first instance, call 911 and pray that there is an undergrad in your class who is familiar with emergency first aid. In regards to the second, you should use this absolutely fantastic resource – Dave Richeson’s guide to “How to set a curve and assign grades“. Richeson is an Associate Professor of Mathematics at Dickinson University, and walks you through a variety of different strategies for curving grades, including methods for using flat-scales, upping the maximum score, and adjusting the average.


I understand this entire block of text was essentially written just to showcase a hyperlink, but

(1) it’s early December, which means all graduate student instructors I know have been bombarded with grading responsibilities, so it’s probably pertinent and

(2) given the delicate state of my mental faculties after six + terms of student teaching, I often forget where the site is, so now I’ll never lose it. In which case, future JB, the formula you’re looking for is:

Screen Shot 2013-12-09 at 11.30.51 PM

where Yo is the new mean, Xo is the old mean, Y1 is the new maximum, ,Y0 is the old maximum and X is the raw score.

Posted in Grad School, Teaching | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Bring out your dead: navigating the ethics of displaying human remains in museums

Skulls on display at the Mütter Museum in Philadelphia

Skulls on display at the Mütter Museum in Philadelphia

In the past two months I’ve attended two lectures on the topic of human remains in museum collections. The talks were part of a University of Michigan lecture series titled It’s Alive! Rediscovering Institutions of Living Collections.  I found the questions generated by these talks to be phenomenally interesting,  particularly those concerning how to balance the ethical curation of human remains with the tendency of museum-goers to lavish them with morbid, fetishizing attention. 

It was very difficult to find a public version of the Institut, so here is a festive  photograph of the Christmas market in Stuttgart, instead.

It was very difficult to find a public photo of the Institut, so here is a festive photograph of the Christmas market in Stuttgart, instead.

The first talk, titled Policy and Practice in the Treatment of Human Remains in German Museum Collections was given by Robert Jütte, director of the Institute for the History of Medicine in Stuttgart.  [Sidebar: While Jütte’s English was flawless, over the course of the lecture he kept saying “skeleton in the cupboard”, which I found charmingly German of him]. His talk covered the loaded history of the curation of human remains in Germany, ranging from the atrocities of the Nazi regime to the cover-ups of the German Democratic Republic . There are some striking parallels between the U.S. and Germany – just as our history of the attempted genocide of indigenous peoples has generated NAGPRA legislation, the prevalence of Nazi war dead in museum collections during the 20th century posed a series of legal and administrative dilemmas that German museums were forced to confront.  Between 2000 and 2003 a private committee (the Stuttgart Working Group on Human Remains in Collections) was established to set up a series of guidelines to try and resolve such issues. This set of recommendations became a document that I think all bioarchaeologists should have in their archives, the Deutscher Museumsbund’s set of Recommendations for the Care of Human Remains. I’m linking to the English translation of the document and attaching a pdf at the end of the post. The Recommendations cover issues of identification, curation and reclamation, and provide an excellent compass with which to navigate challenging issues of museum curation.

Skeleton with Fibrodysplasia Ossificans Progressiva, Mütter Museum

Skeleton with Fibrodysplasia Ossificans Progressiva, Mütter Museum

The second talk, titled Exquisite Corpses: Our Dialogue with the Dead in Museums, was given by Dr. Robert Hicks, director of the Mütter Museum in Philadelphia (I know, I know, it’s like the organizers of the lecture series were obsessed with umlauts). His talk was far more eclectic than Jüttes. Instead of addressing a central theme, Hicks introduced a plethora of different case studies involving the sometimes controversial subjection of human bodies to the ‘post-mortem  gaze’, from the meretricious trafficking of human remains as relics in Pakistan, to the anatomical wax ‘venuses’ from the Museo La Specola in Florence. Over the course of the talk,  the audience was bombarded with imagery. The wax head of Madame Dimanche. The Hyrtl skulls. Holbein’s Dance of the Dead. The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp. Medical plates illustrating piebald albinism. Alice Cooper album covers. The Quay Brothers’ Through the Weeping Glass. Cupid and Centaur in the Museum of Love. By the end of the lecture I was overwhelmed, but my near-indecipherable scribbles indicate that the take home point was that museums should “promote a new discourse about post-mortem imagery, offer inventive associations and contexts, invite a new or rediscovered aesthetic” and “be brokers of cultural perspectives”. Which sounds about as clear and easy to implement as any of the vague statistical techniques I describe in all of my conference abstract submissions….

Despite their disparate approaches to the topic, both Jütte and Hicks converged on one point – they both expressed a distaste for Gunther von Hagen’s  Body Worlds exhibition. Jütte underscored the controversy that has followed the exhibit since its initiation (and inadvertently came up with an excellent pun, when he described a situation in which von Hagen was planning to position the plastinated cadavers as having sex “bawdy”). Hicks did not go into much detail, and merely mentioned that he did not care for von Hagen’s work, noting that many of the representations of human movement in the exhibit were anatomically inaccurate.

Screen Shot 2013-12-01 at 10.15.28 PM

I found their aversion to these types of displays intriguing. It would appear that von Hagen is to anatomists as Jared Diamond is to anthropologists. Both directors’ attitudes suggested that the Body World’s exhibition was somehow more crass than any of the anatomical exhibits housed in more upstanding venues like museums or universities. In part, their response may be the result of Body World’s overtly commercial nature, or it may be related to the ethical controversy generated by von Hagen’s approach to obtaining specimens.  However, museums are not immune to such problems themselves. Jütte tenderly described one of the most famous anatomical specimens in Germany, the sagitally cross-sectioned body of a woman who drowned herself in the late 19th century after discovering she was pregnant. The “Marburger Lenchen” is one of the most popular exhibits in the Medical History Museum in Marburg. The specimen was obtained at a time before informed consent was required for donations, so ethically speaking, her display should be anonymous. Unfortunately, the woman’s name is still associated with the exhibit, and the museum cannot raise the  funds necessary to provide a display that outlines the ethical nuances of the issue. Importantly, Jütte never suggested that the museum remove the specimen from display until the issue was resolved.

Similarly, Hicks provided an animated description of the Mütter Museum’s soap lady, a corpse that underwent a unique taphonomic process involving the conversion of soft tissue into adipocere. He proudly highlighted the  Soap Lady’s “celebrity status”, noting that she was frequently used as a test subject by members of the International Mummification Conference. She is such a popular attraction that her likeness has even been made into an actual bar of soap, that you can purchase in the Mütter Museum gift shop. Hicks distributed one of these as an audience prize after the end of his talk. But, as in the case of the Marburger Lenchen, the “Soap Lady” did not donate her body to science, nor did she ever give her consent that her corpse be publicly displayed in a museum. As Hicks freely admitted, the corpse was donated to the museum under highly questionable circumstances, and records indicate that early anatomist Dr. Joseph Leidy obtained the remains after they were exhumed by “pretending to be the corpse’s grandson” .

Soap Lady Soap, from the Mütter Museum

Soap Lady Soap, from the Mütter Museum

I’m using these examples to illustrate what I see as a double-standard when it comes to the public display of human remains. Consent and accuracy have been used to undermine the ethics underlying the Body Worlds exhibits, but there are just as many ethical issues surrounding the display of historical human remains in museum collections. I’m not necessarily standing up for von Hagen, as heaven knows he’s a controversial enough character. I’m also not suggesting that we remove all human remains from public display – I’m bioarchaeologist for a reason, and I find bones both scientifically and aesthetically appealing.  I do, however, find it hypocritical to assert that displaying human remains for profit and publicity is only acceptable in museum contexts.  The morbidly curious will attend exhibitions of human remains no matter what the forum, and there’s no guarantee that they will be more respectful or understanding of the dead simply because there is an explanatory plaque present. The question that I wanted to ask both speakers after their talks was what differentiated their public from von Hagen’s, because I have a sneaking suspicion that the answer is “nothing”.

Museums and exhibitions like von Hagen’s both benefit from the public’s perverse fascination with human remains, and this is simultaneously a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it generates interest in science and anatomy, while on the other, it often attracts an uncomfortable public gaze that treats remains as fetish objects, rather than historical and medical artifacts. This isn’t a problem that can be solved by simply writing off commercial exhibitions as crude, low-brow entertainment while glorifying the unsullied and blameless institution of the museum. Navigating the situations in which it is appropriate to display human remains necessitates a nuanced approach to issues of provenience, consent and audience, no matter what the context. Which, in the end, is why I found both speakers so stimulating, despite being dissatisfied with their conclusions. Even though we don’t have all the answers yet, at least someone has started the dialogue.

On that note, how do you feel about the public display of human remains? What do you consider appropriate or inappropriate contexts for such display? What is your reaction towards the situations outlined above?

Pdf versionDeutscher Museums Bund 2013 – Recommendations for the Care of Human Remains in Museums and Collections

Image Credits: First Photo of Mütter skulls found here. Photo of Weinachtsmarkt in Stuttgart found here. Skeleton with evidence of FOP from here. Image of soap lady soap from the Mütter Museum website. Screenshot of Body Worlds Exhibit flyers taken from Body Worlds Website.

Posted in Ethics, Human Remains, Museums | Tagged , , | 9 Comments

Blogging Archaeology: November

blogging-archaeology-e1383664863497

A few days ago I got an email asking me to participate in the Society for American Archaeology Blogging Carnival. There’s a session called “Blogging Archaeology” at this year’s conference in Austin, and a number of archaeological blogs have been tapped to get involved. Every month bloggers are asked to respond to a number of different questions about blogging. Here are the ones for November:

1. Why blogging? – Why did you, or if it was a group- the group, start a blog?

The short version is that I started this blog because no one will let me teach an osteology class. This sounds like a more dire predicament than it actually is. I haven’t applied repeatedly to TA the course and been rejected by a department chair wielding a large, red “ABSOLUTELY NOT” stamp. The real reason I haven’t been able to do so is because osteology and bioarchaeology are rarely taught at my home institution. The situation is the result of the vagaries of course assignments and faculty research interests, rather than a lack of student enthusiasm for the subject material, so this blog has first and foremost been a strategy for letting off pedagogical steam.

In addition to wanting to teach a subject so close to my own research interests, I find that learning  osteology is necessarily an interactive process, one that’s rarely perfected by reading the same paragraph from White and Folkens over and over again. Most of my favorite tricks are things I’ve discovered after staring at bones for hours on end, or are born out of strategies that other students have taught me. The Kampsville experience, in particular, provided me with a font of osteological knowledge, and I learned just as much about identifying and siding fragments from my fellow students as I did from my instructors. However, a lot of that personalized knowledge remains floating about in the archaeological aether. Don’t get me wrong – I love Standards and the Human Bone Manual as much as the next person, but they’re written to appeal to an audience of academic professionals. It can be difficult for a novice osteologist  to feel confident about siding a calcaneus even if they know that “The tuberosity is posterior and the inferior surface is nonarticular. The sustentaculum tali projects medially, inferior to the talar head” (White and Folkens 2005: 296). However, if you tell them that the bone looks like a lower-case r when it’s from the right, they’re on much firmer footing.

I have a sense that most  bioarchaeologists work this way. Even though an understanding of human anatomy enhances your osteological skills, a lot of the day-to-day business of identification simply boils down to pattern recognition. So one of my goals in writing this blog is to provide a repository of some of the tricks that everyone learns in their intro to osteology courses, but that haven’t really been published in any public forum.

2. Why are you still blogging?

Because anything is better than working on my dissertation….Kidding, kidding.   On that note,  however, academic writing often employs a particular register, diction and tone that can occasionally begin to grate on you as a writer. Sample excerpts from some of my most recent work include such gems as:

“Localized and rigorous defleshing around the caudal region would likely lead some of the lumbar vertebrae to disarticulate more readily.”

and

“Zooarchaeological evidence suggests that this pattern may also characterize the Iberian Copper Age, but the few dietary isotopic studies that have been conducted to date do not demonstrate significant levels of inter-individual or inter-site dietary differentiation”

Ernest Hemmingway, I am not. Getting away from the staid and predictable conventionality of academic writing is one of the benefits of continuing to blog. It’s a good way to practice presenting your research to the public in a comprehensible way, which is an idea that’s been gaining ground in academia recently. Blogging is also immediately rewarding in a way that most academic endeavor is not. Instead of waiting months on end for reviewer comments, you get near instantaneous feedback from fellow archaeologists and readers.

I’ve been enjoying the process enough that I’m convinced I’ll continue to blog – that is, as long as my committee doesn’t find out about it.

References:

White, T. D. and P.A. Folkens. (2005) The Human Bone Manual. Elsevier, Amsterdam.

Posted in Archaeology, Blogging | Tagged , , , , | 4 Comments

Merely a cuneiformality: Identifying and siding the cuneiforms


Slide 1

While working at a late Neolithic mortuary site in Portugal, my friend Anna and I would frequently joke that we were excavating the ‘burial of the feet’, because it seemed like every day on site we chanced upon a new navicular. The site wasn’t actually an ossurary where elements were deliberately sorted spatially – in contrast, our joking and obsessive attention to tarsals were likely  brought about by too many days excavating under the intense Iberian sun. Or, it may have had something to do with the traditional Iberian cuisine we’d eat for lunch.  For some reason, the Portuguese are huge fans of rice and cod, particularly when it is 40˚C. Ah, the gentle warmth of an Iberian summer. But I digress. Foot bones do have a tendency to preserve particularly well in the archaeological record, and it is important to be able to identify and side them, especially if you’re dealing with commingled remains.  After spending a lot of time blankly staring at various tarsals,  in lab settings, in settings where the bones are covered in dirt, or in settings where I am covered in dirt, I think I’ve finally come up with some reliable tricks.

Slide 2

To start off with, there are three cuneiforms, all of which articulate proximally with the navicular and distally with the metatarsals. The lateral cuneiform also articulates laterally with the cuboid. I’ll address them one by one.

I. The Medial Cuneiform:

Identification: Unsurprisingly, the medial cuneiform is the most medial of the three tarsals – as per usual, anatomists for the win when it comes to terminological creativity. It is also the largest of the three bones, and exhibits a relatively gentle curvature. The most convex point of its arc is medial.

Slide 3

The medial cuneiform has two proximal articular facets – the larger, concave  facet is for articulation with the navicular, while the smaller, more distally placed facet is for articulation with the intermediate cuneiform. It also has one distal articular facet, for MT1, which is flattened and shaped like a chunky rainbow. Its superior surface is rugose, while its inferior surface is marked by a thin irregular articular facet (for the articulation with the intermediate cuneiform).

Slide 4

Siding: Orient the medial cuneiform so that the distal articular facet is facing away from you, and the superior surface is facing up. If it is from the left, your left thumb will easily fit into the concave articular facet for the medial cuneiform. If it from the right, your right thumb will. The longer facet for the intermediate cuneiform will slide along the inferior surface of the bone, towards the side the bone is from. You can grip the cuneiform with something like a grip you’d use on bike handlebars, with your thumb fitting into the articular facet for the navicular.
Slide 5II. The Intermediate Cuneiform

Identification: The intermediate cuneiform is the smallest of these three tarsals. It has a very boxy profile in superior view, and readily visible proximal and distal articular facets. It is easily distinguished from the medial cuneiform due to its overall shape. While the medial cuneiform is a chunky arc, the medial cuneiform is more of a squat triangle. Similarly, it can be distinguished from the lateral cuneiform because it has a much more square shape in superior view.

Slide 6

Siding: If you’re looking at the cuneiform in superior view, the shortest side of the ‘square’ will be distal. The proximal articular facet for the navicular looks like a slice of pizza, while the distal articular facet resembles a sickly South America. I don’t really bother with the distal articular facet because its orientation is much more variable than that of the proximal articular facet. The tip of the proximal articular facet will point towards the side the bone is from. The lateral articulation for the lateral cuneiform is bilobate, and shaped a little bit like Mickey Mouse ears (though depending on normal osteological variation, they may look like Mickey Mouse ears as drawn by Salvador Dali). The medial articulation for the medial cuneiform consists of a straight vertical strip followed by a more superior horizontal one – it looks rather like a forearm and fist ready to punch.

Slide 7III. The Lateral Cuneiform

 

Identification: In superior view, the lateral cuneiform has the most rectangular outline, and it is intermediate in size between the first two cuneiforms. Of the three tarsals it has the most irregular shape. Overall it is triangular in form, but it is a much less delineated triangle than the intermediate cuneiform. If you place it on a table so that the inferior end is pointing up, it looks rather like a melting Hershey’s kiss.

Slide 8

Siding: One of the easiest ways to side the lateral cuneiform is to use its superior surface. Orient the bone so that the superior surface is up. Place the distal, flat edge of the ‘rectangle’ flat against your index finger. The opposite proximal edge will angle laterally and towards the side the bone is from. In superior view, the outline will often appear more concave medially and more convex laterally, as if it were hugging the intermediate cuneiform. Finally, the most helpful articular facet for siding is the lateral articular facet for the cuboid, which occurs as a well delineated round shape on the upper half of the lateral side of the bone.

And there you have it. Everything you always wanted to know about the cuneiforms but were afraid to ask. Happy Thorsday, everybody.

Looking for more information on the tarsals? These Bones of Mine provides a solid overview post of the entire foot here.

Image credits: All bones are traced from photographs which were taken using the teaching collections housed in the osteology/paleoanthropology lab at the University of Michigan. The first image is traced from an image available at thinglink.com.

Posted in Foot, Osteology, Tarsals | Tagged , | 7 Comments

You are how you eat: cooking and human evolution

Perhaps the Gibraltar child's wistful expression simply indicates a heartfelt longing for pizza

Perhaps the Gibraltar child’s wistful expression simply reveals a heartfelt longing for pizza

Richard Wrangham recently came and gave a talk  as part of a four-field Anthropology colloquium here at Michigan. He presented an idea that’s been gaining ground in biological anthropology in recent years – namely, that humans are adapted to consume a diet of cooked food. Having eaten my fair share of pizza recently (dissertation proposal + grading = questionable nutritional decisions) I was inclined to agree with him. However, he didn’t just appeal to the audience’s craving for junk food. In fact, Wrangham’s approach was particularly apropos for a four-field audience, as he focused on several different lines of evidence to make his argument:

ETHNOGRAPHY: Wrangham underscored that cooking is essentially a universal undertaking among human hunter-gathers. Broad scale surveys suggest that across cultures, the evening meal is cooked, while the raw food component of the diet consists primarily of snacks that are eaten out of camp.

If you Google Image search "hunters cooking", this is what you get.

If you Google Image search “hunters cooking”, this is what you get.

ANATOMY: Humans’ relatively small guts and laughably puny molars suggest a suite of irreversible changes to the physiological mechanisms that most mammals use to digest their food. Such  changes would likely only be possible if early members of our genus were relying on something besides their bodies to process what they ate. Similarly, Wrangham pointed to the ‘obligate territoriality’ of  early members of the genus Homo as evidence that the control of fire likely arose early on in the course of human evolution. As he wryly noted, he wouldn’t be “game” for sleeping on the Serengeti today without a fire…Get it? Game? Like meat? (Editor’s Note: Wrangham did not actually make that pun – that’s all JB).

Molar size of humans relative to those of a robust autstralopithecine. Pretty pathetic, huh?

PALEOANTHROPOLOGY: Recent research (Henry et al., 2011) has investigated the contents of Neanderthal dental calculus, a fairly disgusting hard plaque that generally forms  around the cementoenamel junction of teeth. While Neanderthals have previously been argued to have been overwhelmingly dependent on meat, exploring the contents of their calculus revealed that not only did Neanderthals eat plant foods, they ate cooked plant foods. Some of the phytoliths and grains found ‘caked’ onto Neanderthal teeth showed damage that is characteristically caused by cooking, suggesting that this practice dates back to at least 50,000 years BP.

REPRODUCTIVE HEALTH: Here, Wrangam emphasized the results of a study of raw foodists that was conducted by German researchers in the 1990s (see Koebnik et al., 1999). Their research   demonstrated a strong positive correlation between the % raw food component of the subjects’ diets and the % of the study population that was amenorrheic. These results suggest that most women living on  a very high-quality raw food diet, incorporating meat, non-seasonal produce and oil, still cannot reproduce. In sum, if you want to increase your fitness, make sure to eat some pizza every once and awhile. At least, that’s how I interpreted it.

Chimp eating a marshmallow. It's from the Daily Mail, so it must be credible...

Bonobo eating a marshmallow. I swear I’m not making this stuff up. It’s from the Daily Mail, so it must be credible…

ANIMAL BEHAVIOR: As anyone who has ever kept a pet will know,  domesticates prefer to pilfer your food rather than eat the dry and oddly-colored pellets that fill their bowls. Wrangham underscored that most animals prefer cooked food when given the option. This has been demonstrated by food preference tests in captive apes, and there’s at least some evidence that wild chimpanzees will seek out indigenous plants that have been roasted in bushfires.

Maintain your body mass, little buddy!

Maintain your body mass, little buddy!

PHYSIOLOGY: A preference for cooked food makes sense, because cooking food increases its net energy benefit to most animals. Wrangham and his student Rachel Carmody have conducted a number of intriguing studies investigating the effects of differentially processed food on the health of lab populations of Mus musculus, or house mice. They found that diets of both cooked or cooked and pounded food allowed mice to maintain their body mass, while diets of raw food led to a significant drop in weight over the course of several weeks.  Similarly, studies of both human ileostomy patients and captive Burmese pythons suggest that the key benefit to cooked food is not necessarily increasing the caloric content of the food itself, but rather lies in its ability to reduce the costs of digestion associated with food processing. In fact, the python study demonstrated that consumption of cooked food, rather than raw food, reduced the costs of digestion by 12.5%.

Personally I think I would rather work with mice, but to each their own...

Personally I think I would rather work with mice, but to each their own…

The lecture was certainly fascinating. I think that Wrangham presents a compelling hypothesis, and he creatively incorporates a number of different lines of evidence to strengthen his arguments. Unfortunately, as with most behavioral aspects of the deep palaeoanthropological past, it’s not directly testable – at least not right now. However, more studies of ancient dental calculus, particularly if combined with more evidence on contemporary reproductive constraints along the lines of Koebnick et al.’s study, have the potential to shed even more light on the relationship between cooking and the evolution of our genus.

References:

ResearchBlogging.orgBoback SM, Cox CL, Ott BD, Carmody R, Wrangham RW, & Secor SM (2007). Cooking and grinding reduces the cost of meat digestion. Comparative biochemistry and physiology. Part A, Molecular & integrative physiology, 148 (3), 651-6 PMID: 17827047

 

ResearchBlogging.orgCarmody RN, & Wrangham RW (2009). The energetic significance of cooking. Journal of human evolution, 57 (4), 379-91 PMID: 19732938

 

ResearchBlogging.orgHenry AG, Brooks AS, & Piperno DR (2011). Microfossils in calculus demonstrate consumption of plants and cooked foods in Neanderthal diets (Shanidar III, Iraq; Spy I and II, Belgium). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, 108 (2), 486-91 PMID: 21187393

 

ResearchBlogging.orgKoebnick, C., Strassner, C., Hoffman, I., & Leitzmann, C. (1999). Consequences of a longterm raw food diet on body weight and menstruation: results of a questionnaire survey. Annals of Nutrition and Metabolism, 43, 69-79

 

ResearchBlogging.orgWobber V, Hare B, & Wrangham R (2008). Great apes prefer cooked food. Journal of human evolution, 55 (2), 340-8 PMID: 18486186

 

ResearchBlogging.orgWrangham R, & Conklin-Brittain N (2003). ‘Cooking as a biological trait’. Comparative biochemistry and physiology. Part A, Molecular & integrative physiology, 136 (1), 35-46 PMID: 14527628

 

Image Credits: Image of Devil’s Tower Neanderthal found here. Slice of pizza is a stock photo. Hunters cooking was, as mentioned, courtesy of a Google Image search. Robus and human dentition from anthropology.net. Bonobo cooking a marshmallow featured in the Daily Mail’s article on Kanzi, which, much like this post, is filled with dreadful puns. Mouse eating a cookie from this site. Image of python found here.

Posted in Anatomy, Evolution | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

Alas, Poor Yorick: The Skulls of Stratford

Horsing around in Jordan, Summer 2008

Horsing around in Jordan, Summer 2008

The image of an actor holding aloft a skull is a familiar cinematic and literary trope. Theatre scholars have noted that the representation is so powerful that it often stands in as a metonymic representation of acting itself (Williamson 2011; Monks 2012). The image is, of course, drawn from Hamlet, a representation of the protagonist’s celebrated contemplation of the meaning of mortality in a Danish graveyard. On a recent visit to Stratford-upon-Avon, I was struck by the degree to which the familiar imagery of the skull permeated the town – it was plastered on baguette barges and sold as key rings and coffee mugs.

The back of the 'Baguette Barge', and a street performer and his prop

The back of the ‘Baguette Barge’, and a street performer and his prop

You could find it cast in statuesque bronze, adorning souvenir pencils and serving as a prop for street performers. The skull was everywhere, a recurring visual motif in the town’s marketing of its Shakespearean heritage. Ironically, the only place I wasn’t assaulted by cranial imagery was in the Holy Trinity Church, where Shakespeare is actually buried.

Souvenir Skulls

Souvenir Skulls

As a bioarchaeologist, I was in heaven. I’m always enthralled (well, occasionally also appalled, depending on anatomical accuracy) by popular representations of osteology. One of the first things I noticed was that only about half of the elements depicted were in fact skulls. To make a pompous osteonerd distinction, the term skull refers to a cranium with an associated mandible, while a cranium lacks a mandible. As you can see, most of the souvenir representations were skulls, while theatrical performances of Hamlet tend to employ crania.

The second thing I noticed was that many of the representations evinced distinctly masculine characteristics. I sidled up to a street performer’s  prop when he was distracted by an audience, and noticed large mastoids, a prominent chin and sizeable brow ridges. The same characteristics stood out when I examined the Hamlet statue. Although, as my companion saliently pointed out, some of these traits could simply suggest an aged individual, especially since the sutures on the statue looked like they were becoming obliterated.

Slide1

Estimating the sex of the cranium on the Hamlet statue.                                                                                                                           (I am a delight to travel with, not embarrassing at all, I assure you).

This plethora of cranial representations made me curious about how accurate the play itself was when it came to portraying Yorick’s skull. In particular, I wondered whether replicas of both male and female individuals were used during performances. After digging into the literature a bit, I found that a surprising number of productions of Hamlet have incorporated actual  human remains into the scene:

  • Perhaps because Yorick was such a lauded character in the play, individuals have long expressed an interest in posthumously taking on the role. Charles Dickens himself documented this impulse in a long-time theatre employee in the late nineteenth century. John Reed, a man who had worked for the theatre for over four decades, requested in his will that after he died his skull was to be given to the theatre to portray the skull of Yorick (Williamson 2011).
  • The Walnut Street Theatre, in Philadelphia, was once possession of a human skull that was donated to the institution by a pharmacist named Carpenter. In true thespian fashion, the cranium was signed by at least nine major nineteenth-century actors who portrayed Hamlet at the WST (Williamson 2011).
  • In a similar vein, the Victoria and Albert museum curates a near edentulous skull that is signed in blue marker by the cast of a 1980 Royal Court production of Hamlet. The skull was signed because it was entered as a raffle prize at the end of production. Because a rather squeamish donor “won” the prize, the skull was subsequently donated to the museum anonymously (Monks 2012).
  • In 1999, comedian Del Close donated his skull to a theatre in Chicago, with the explicit wish that it be used in future performances of Hamlet. The skull was subsequently used in productions of Hamlet and several other plays. However, after reporters noticed a few apparent anatomical anomalies (namely, that the skull was held together with rusty screws), playgoers agitated for an investigation of its true provenience. Close’s partner, Charna Halpern, soon confessed that because of the difficulty she’d had finding anyone to clean and process the comedian’s cranium, she was forced to purchase a teaching skull as a replacement (Williamson 2011).

David Tennant and (probably) André Tchaikovsky

David Tennant and (probably) André Tchaikovsky

  • The most famous use of human remains as a stage prop is the case of the skull of concert pianist André Tchaikovsky. Tchaikovsky was evidently so moved by a performance of Hamlet at the Royal Shakespeare Company that he legally bequeathed his skull to the theatre, or so a bewildered Property Department Manager learned after receiving a call from a local undertaker in 1982.  Less than two weeks later, to the dismay of the prop manager “and the evident delight of the department’s dog”(Aebischer 207), the company received the cranium. The RSC spent the next two years airing the skull on the roof of one of its buildings in order to bleach and dry it, but for decades afterwards consigned the remains to the theatre’s prop room. While it was used in rehearsals during the 1980s, actors expressed discomfort at employing it during actual performances. The skull’s time in the limelight did not come until 2008, during a run of Greg Doran’s production of Hamlet. After the media alerted to the use of an actual, provenienced human skull in the play, the RSC publicly proclaimed that it had replaced Tchaikovsky’s skull with an exact copy, so as avoid ‘distracting the audience’.  The story does not end here, for in 2009, the RSC admitted to the Daily Telegraph that “rather than replacing it with its replica, Tchaikowsky’s skull had remained in the role, disguised as a copy of itself. Doran explained that “Andre’s skull was a profound memento mori, which perhaps no prop skull could quite provide”” (Monks 371). The best part of this story, to my mind, is a memo that Aebsicher discovered in the RSC’s records, which reads “If André Tchaikovsky isn’t actually playing Yorick this year, please can we have his skull back in the Collection for future reference, or whatever you do with the skulls of dead pianists.” (207).
  • Perhaps due to the success of Doran’s Hamlet, in 2009 Jude Law insisted on employing a 200-year-old human skull as the key prop in his portrayal of the scene, suggesting that both artist and audience remain fascinated by the use of authentic human remains to this day.

This reliance on relics is nothing new. Williamson notes that a lively trade in human remains was characteristic of the tightly-knit world of Shakespearean actors: Edwin Booth (who portrayed Hamlet, appropriately enough) was given the tooth of another famous Shakepearean actor, George Fredrick Cooke, and other types of remains, like locks of hair, were exchanged with equal amounts of appreciation within the thespian community (2011).

What intrigues me most about the gravedigger scene is the way it has been argued to play upon the anonymity of death.  Williamson underscores that:

“…Hamlet’s banter with the gravedigger reveals the persistent problem of death’s anonymity. The gravedigger… attempts to reassure the prince by providing a compelling identity for one of the skulls, but the doubling and tripling of skull properties in the scene, together with the joking dialogue that surrounds Hamlet’s speech, undermines the notion that we can firmly connect any one of them to a single individual” (2011, 14).

Mental instability and homicidal tendencies aside, this suggests to me that all the prince of Denmark really needed was a bioarchaeologist.

References:

ResearchBlogging.orgAebischer, P. (2001). Yorick’s Skull: Hamlet’s Improper Property EnterText, 1 (2), 206-225

 

ResearchBlogging.orgMonks, Aoife (2012). Human Remains: Acting, Objects, and Belief in Performance Theater Journal, 64 (3), 355-371 DOI: 10.1353/tj.2012.0082

 

ResearchBlogging.orgWilliamson, Elizabeth (2011). Yorick’s Afterlives: Skull Properties in Performance Borrowers and Lenders: The Journal of Shakespeare and Appropriation, 6 (1)

 

Image Credits: Photos of baguette barge, street performer and close-up of Hamlet statue can be found by clicking on links. Image of David Tennant found here.

Posted in Cranium, Travel | Tagged , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Thor presents the anatomy of the pectoral region and the upper limb

In honor of the release of Thor: The Dark World, I give you one of my handmade study aids from ANA 7010.

You’re welcome.

"You know, for a crazy homeless person... he's pretty cut"

Image Credit: Original undoctored image of shirtless Norse god found here.

Posted in Anatomy, Muscles | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Palpable Anatomy: The Subclavian Artery

One of the easiest ways for me to remember the details and orientation of an anatomical feature is to locate a portion of it on my own body. I’ve found that students also respond well to this method – it’s easier to visualize and engage with an anatomical structure if you can feel it beneath your skin. Whenever I teach aspects of basic osteology I always have students feel specific portions of their bones. They touch their mastoid processes, palpate their seventh cervical vertebrae, poke at their temporal mandibular joints, rub their patellae, and so forth. In short, I’ll try anything to get students engaged and paying attention, even if it involves me hopping around in front of the class and rubbing my ankle (lateral malleolus). With that in mind I’m kicking off a series of ‘palpable anatomy’ posts to provide a guide to some anatomical regions that are accessible for the specialist and non-specialist alike.

Netter_SubclavianOne of my favorite points of palpable anatomy is the subclavian artery that is (shockingly, given its name) located just beneath your clavicle.  I can often be found hunched over a laptop in local coffee shops, staring blankly at my screen while grabbing the medial portion of my right clavicle. I find the pulse a comforting reminder that no matter what new obstacle graduate school throws at me, at the very least, my circulatory system is still functioning. For some reason, I don’t make a lot of new friends while studying in coffee shops… [Sidenote: The one time I was glad that people never come up to talk to me was the week we covered the perineum in Gross. The figures for that week’s lectures might have gotten me kicked out of the coffee shop].

Your subclavian artery has two different origins: it arises from the brachiocephalic artery on the right, and from the arch of the aorta on the left. It is divided into three parts by the anterior scalene muscle, as you can see in the figure below:

The parts of the subclavian artery are determined by the location of the vessel relative to the anterior scalene muscle.

The parts of the subclavian artery are determined by the location of the vessel relative to the anterior scalene muscle.

  • First Part: Runs medial to the anterior scalene. It  has four branches : 1. vertebral artery; 2. internal thoracic artery, 3, thyrocervical trunk and; 4. costocervical. A good mnemonic to remember the branches coming off the first part of the subclavian is VITamin CVertebral, Internal thoracic, Thyrocervical and Costocervical.
  • Second part: Runs posterior to the muscle, no branches.
  • Third part: Runs lateral to the muscle, diving down behind the middle of the clavicle and joining the cords of the brachial plexus and becoming the axillary artery. It has one branch, the dorsal scapular artery, which supplies the rhomboids. The pulsations that you can feel are from the third part of the artery.

Now that you know where the artery originates and can list its branches, it’s time to locate your own subclavian artery! I’ve outlined an easy three-step process that ensures that in no time, you too will be able to feel your subclavian artery.

Step 1: Locate your clavicle. Here, I am am hunching my shoulders forward to make it more visible.

Step 1: Locate your clavicle. Here, I am am hunching my shoulders forward to make the bone more visible.

Step 2:  Place your fingers over the medial edge of your clavicle. Pause for a minute while you attempt to verify that you are still alive.

Step 2: Place your fingers over the midpoint of the medial half of your clavicle. Furrow your brow and pause for a minute while you attempt to verify that you are still alive after a brutal week of grading and grant proposal submissions.

Step 3: Congratulations, you are still alive!  Here you can see the approximate area you'll need to palpate to feel the artery and vein if your posture is normal.

Step 3: Congratulations, you are still alive! Here you can see the approximate area you’ll need to palpate to feel the artery if your posture is normal.

Image Credits: First image of the subclavian (Netter) found here. Second image of three parts of subclavian artery relative to anterior scalene muscle found here.

Posted in Anatomy, Palpable Anatomy | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

Osteology Everywhere: Meteorological Edition

Epiphyseal_clouds

Suchey- Brooks Phase I, anybody?

I spotted these clouds on my way home from campus a few nights ago. My initial reaction was “Wow, those are some young-looking clouds!”…

Osteologists: able to add a morbid tinge to even the most compelling natural landscapes.

Posted in Osteology Everywhere, Subadult | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Osteology Everywhere: White Horse Hill, Uffington

Dragon Hill and the Uffington Chalk Horse, Oxfordshire

Dragon Hill and the Uffington Chalk Horse, Oxfordshire

Like a boss

Like a boss.

One of my friends over at Lawnchair Anthropology runs a series of posts titled Osteology Everywhere. Being the enormous osteo-nerd that I am, I’ve long admired his ability to find unappreciated glimpses of anatomy in everyday life.  While exploring the famous chalk horse at Uffington on a brief trip to Oxfordshire and Worcestshire, he pointed out a small vale bordering Dragon Hill. Depending on your bent, Dragon Hill is either a natural flat-topped mound or the location where St.George manfully slew the fearsome dragon of Christian mythology.  “Doesn’t that valley look like a _____?”, he asked. It took me a minute, but then I saw it. In the spirit of international academic cooperation, enduring lab-mate solidarity and probably because I was the one who actually took the photo, he agreed to share the post so that I could kick off my own Osteology Everywhere series.

The shape of the valley looks exactly like a...

The shape of this valley looks exactly like a…

While not quite as impressive as the massive equid etched in chalk a hilltop over, this is definitely identifiable. What bone is this? Have at it in the comments!

Image Credits: St.George and the Dragon icon found here.

Posted in Osteology Everywhere, Travel | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments