If you have ever had the pleasure of visiting Caerleon, near Newport, South Wales, you will no doubt have had the opportunity to enjoy the remarkable historical landscape which survives there today. Notable features of course include the strikingly well preserved Roman amphitheatre, and tourist attractions including the Roman bath and barrack complexes. There is a later historical narrative at play here, with prominent medieval tower features overlooking the river, and a fine spread of late eighteenth - early nineteenth century buildings in the centre of the (at one time) village. There are however, much more recent additions to the landscape, which could easily be lost in the next few years. Much has been written about the demise of the university campus at Caerleon. A lot of pain has been caused and tears shed, over the loss of a teaching institution which had been central to the educational aspirations of thousands of students in south east Wales. Thanks to financial considerations and a Welsh Government educational policy which looks to the Valleys long before it looks to the east, Caerleon, Newport and the wider south east region, has been stripped of its one true higher education facility. This, however, is now a story well told and while it serves the spirit well to revisit and rant over the decisions that led us to the demise of this institution, little more can be gained from doing so. What fate awaits the physical campus though, is another matter altogether. Just as the Roman amphitheatre dominates the lower part of Caerleon, surely the striking main campus building does the same for the upper part. For over a century, the distinctive clock tower of the Caerleon Campus has loomed large, maintain a watchful eye over the community below. Like some manner of guardian, locals and visitors alike would always, in living memory, be able to look uphill and spy the tower, clock face and usual giant Welsh flag flying from on top. The main campus building has become an integral part of the landscape, and its absence should be considered unthinkable. Yet, absence and the loss of this historical educational building is a very real concern. The University of South Wales have recently launched a public appeasement exercise, attempting to ease the fears, or perhaps simply distract and dupe local residence, about their future plans for the campus. The university claims to be seeking to create a positive legacy and not, as most suspect of the organisation, sell off the campus to the highest bidder for the construction of several mega flat complexes. It has been said that while the main campus building is a concern to be kept, if it is not considered “viable” there is a good chance it will be demolished – take heed of the word “viable”. As a former member of staff at the Caerleon Campus, we were regularly told by USW of the concerns of viability. Our departments were encouraged to fight for their survival, with the threat that if we were deemed “not viable”, we would be gone. Regardless of what we did, or the validity of arguments put forward, or basic facts, we were deemed “not viable”. Track record would suggest that once this organisation starts questioning the viability of something, it means that they have already decided on the viability of whatever is in question, and deemed it fit for the chopping block. Now, it is assumed by many that the Caerleon Campus main building is a listed property, but discussion in recent weeks appears to have cast doubt on this. The assumption was that the main building was a Grade II structure – though that status would do little in real world terms to prevent major structural changes to the fabric of the building. However, a petition has now sprung up campaigning for the main building to secure listed status (whether it already has it or not). I would be arguing for Grade II* status, a level which would afford far more protection for the building than Grade II, but perhaps some protection is better than none. Whatever the case, if you feel the architectural landscape of Caerleon is worth keeping, or if you just want to stick it to USW, get on board with this campaign, and fight to preserve what remains of a once great educational institution in the heart of Caerleon. Rest assured, without a vocal show of support, this building is in real danger of being lost. If you follow the professional archaeological grapevine in south Wales, you might have heard rumours coming out of the Glamorgan Gwent Archaeological Trust, that USW have been working hard to avoid any archaeological assessments being completed on campus. connected to any prospective development work – remembering that this is a Roman cemetery site, which is still riddled with archaeology. If there is any truth to this, it would be a troubling indictment on USW and their attitude towards the heritage of Caerleon. That discussion could even take place on whether or not the main building should survive, is a damning indication of the true motivations of this company. Buildings, once demolished, are gone forever. Caerleon has already lost much in the last few years, it does not deserve to lose its architecture as well. It also certainly does not deserve to be lumbered with massive new developments, were the campus to be converted for homes. The population of this once small village has long since run over capacity – any mid to large scale development from this point on would cripple the community and render the town almost uninhabitable – strong words perhaps, but such are the problems with congestion, and pressure on local services (I still have nightmares of the GP practice in Caerleon), that more development on the campus would really be a final nail in the coffin. It might just be one prominent building, but the historical narratives tied up in the Caerleon Campus run deep, while the negative social impacts were it to be replaced with flats would be profound. There is much at stake when it comes to the Caerleon Campus main building, too much to let it go head to head with a wrecking ball. Please help Caerleon retain some sense of its educational and architectural heritage, and in doing so, you might just help preserve the communities that live in the shadow of the clock tower for generations to come. The petition can be found here: CADW: Make the Historic Main Building in Caerleon Campus a Grade II Listed Building
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My latest column piece on NOMOS journal is up and available. I wanted to explore the idea of 'terror heritage', questioning the way in which value becomes attributed to heritage sites and museum collections. Is a sense of value born from an intrinsic quality held by each site and artefact, or is value created by circumstance, the threat of destruction perhaps? I've included the opening paragraph below, with the rest of the article following at this link. Heritage is always being created. While forms of heritage, such as castles and cathedrals, must first be built, it is later generations who decide that these structures are of value – who decide to preserve, conserve, and present buildings, and in doing so, turn the historic into their heritage. Within the terminology of heritage, there is vast variety, but it is always people who decide what will become heritage. There are, however, forms of heritage that are defined by circumstance, great disasters, or catastrophes. These events might be natural, such as earthquakes or tsunamis, that mark landscape and society alike, but then there are more direct human actions. Last month, videos circulated of a shocking attack on the Mosul Museum in Iraq, where ancient antiquities were deliberately destroyed. Yet, in those acts of mindless aggression, was the status of the collections and sites being elevated? Was there a form of “terror heritage” being created, where very acts of destruction made the global community more aware of, and more enthusiastic about, ensuring the long-term survival of those cultural artifacts? The last time I visited Stonehenge must have been in either 2002 or 2003. Back in the undergraduate days at the Institute of Archaeology, we made way for the henge as part of, if memory serves correctly, a Public Archaeology module – though I may be wide of the mark on that detail. We were well prepared students of archaeology back then, our priorities being focused on the preparation of a picnic and assorted wines to consume in a grassy strip adjoining the car park. It just so happened that we popped into the henge and visitor centre, but that was a brief intrusion into an otherwise highly successful picnic. Over a decade later and the Stonehenge I visited that day has been quite transformed. With the investment of millions, the stripping away of major roads and the creation of a brand new (and not without controversy) visitor centre, the Stonehenge experience has been transformed. More by chance, myself and the Prof found ourselves in the neck of the woods, and decided it was high time we revisited this most significant of henge monuments, and cast a judging eye over the new interpretive strategies. We could not have picked a worse day to do it. It was probably when the lightning bolts started cracking over the Wiltshire skyline that we knew we might have got our timing a little wrong. As thunder rumbled overhead, and the heavens tipped out everything they had, Stonehenge and the surrounding access roads gradually began to fill up – this would be a soggy experience. The weather however, probably helped in terms of thinning out the potential visitor numbers on the day. Despite being a heritage professional who should always be encouraging visitor numbers, I always prefers next to no other visitors when I happen to be at a site (they can be busy when I’m not there). We also were financially compensated through the Prof’s lifetime Cadw membership card, which secured free entry to the new site. Merciful, as otherwise this ‘experience’ would have cost us nearly £30 in total. If you want to take this as a review of Stonehenge, it’s probably best keeping that financial factor in mind. Going here for free, I was entirely satisfied, and generally impressed. Had I handed over £30 for two tickets, I think I would have felt pretty short changed – something not helped by the generally unfinished state of the site. For those who don’t remember, Stonehenge was a World Heritage Site flirting with danger – danger of being placed on the World Heritage Sites in Danger List, something generally seen as a tremendous negative in British circles. Part of this criticism levelled at the site was the major road which ran alongside, and partially cutting, Stonehenge, and the disastrous visitor centre. Both are still there. They might be building (or deconstruction) sites, but the imprint of the road remains, the shell of the visitor centre still peeks out from the ground, while JCBs rumble around digging up the much maligned original car park. Work still to be done there, but you can see how the idea of an open landscape will be achieved, to some extent, once the works are complete. Probably the most significant addition to the Stonehenge experience is the visitor/interpretation centre, within which the new exhibition space can be found. In addition, outside, is the Neolithic Houses project, which can be followed on twitter. I won’t write much about this aspect because, as with much of the complex, it is equally unfinished. However, the houses are looking great, and a sneaky insider view does suggest that this, when complete, will be a real asset to the visitor experience. The sooner this element is open the better – after all, everyone loves a roundhouse. The exhibition space is equally promising. Some of the wall panel displays are, without getting too excited, quite visionary. Wall length video projections provide differing interpretations for the passage of time in the landscape surrounding Stonehenge. This is both effective and visually striking. Rarely has a wall mounted display proven to be so engaging, and watching visitors watching the display, this certainly seemed to secure an above average ‘stay time’. Smaller video projections are built into almost all the displays. Unfortunately, the positioning of the majority of these seems to be directed entirely at children, in terms of their height and positioning (my neck was no fan of them) – and there seems potential to make more of this interpretive technique. Still, this is only a minor grumble. The bigger grumble relates to the space in which visitors have to work their way through the exhibition space. As stated, this was a very soggy day at Stonehenge, which I can only presume negatively impacted on visitor numbers. Still, the exhibition space felt very crowded. It seems odd that in a purpose built structure, designed to accommodate a high volume of visitors, that such limited space was included around certain exhibits. As a result, bottle necks seemed to occur frequently, with bumping and shoving not an unusual sight. Again, this seems very odd given the bespoke nature of the visitor centre, and the anti-tourist agenda corner of my brain can’t help but query whether too much space has been given over to the substantial shop, restaurant, toilet facilities and so on, at the expense of really developing a museum orientated exhibition space. It is these sorts of concerns that, if couple with a hot, visitor heavy day, that the entrance fee really becomes a questionable element. The ‘new’ Stonehenge has potential, and the main henge site of course continues to impress and inspire, perhaps more so given the atmospheric conditions on the day. The real judgement of the value for money here can only come once the site is truly complete – though when that will be realised is again questionable. It’s been a half a year since the official opening, and much of what was intended for this site remains a work in progress. However, I don’t want to be overly critical. That these changes are being made is arguably the most important thing. The visitor experience pre 2013 was, frankly, pretty crap. This is much better, but much, much more expensive. Maybe saving up the pennies and waiting for the completion of this project would be the best advice for those who can’t blag free entry. For those who can, go now, it’s pretty good. So, that’s that then. Five years on, and almost nine months to the day of submission, the viva is complete, as is my PhD (bar some minor corrections here and there). There have been various points in this experience where the old, terrible, but in some ways brilliant, theme tune to Star Trek: Enterprise, has served as the theme tune to my life. The opening lyrics: ‘It´s been a long road, getting from there to here. It´s been a long time, but my time is finally near’, is, I feel, a fair summary, though perhaps it would be more accurate to just sample the opening five words, for it has indeed been a long road. This whole process began way back in 2001, with my first degree in archaeology, during the London odyssey. Back then, I had wonderful time of things, highly indulgent, with the occasional academic intrusion into the three years of opulent loitering. I came out with a 2:1, which was all well and good at the time, but I knew that I had more in me, that perhaps were I to do a degree properly, I could actually come out with something more impressive. It was with that rationale that I made way for Leicester, a postgrad in archaeology and heritage. Studying via distance learning – where I spent most of my day time on an isolated farm, a far cry from the distractions of London, meant I had all the time in the world to work on my degree, and it went great. The 60 percents were coming in, then came the 70 percents, and by the end of it, I even brought in the odd 80 percent mark – these were great days. However, going into my dissertation, I liberally ignored the word count, got whacked with a vast penalty, which sunk my overall degree average down to 69 percent. Gone was my distinction, and established was my very unhealthy relationship with word limits. Ultimately, another disappointing academic experience had been registered. For a time I walked away from the whole environment. The word limit debacle had broken my spirit, having come so close to my ever elusive top tier grade. Into museums I stumbled for a period of time, and it was only when I had made peace with the career dead end that that prove to be, did I find a final opportunity to crack the academic walnut. When a bursary was put together for the then University of Wales, Newport, to lecture in heritage studies, and conduct a PhD in the same area, I jumped at it. Granted, options were limited, and this was going to make money – so the mercenary in me gave me a big shove. But here was a University looking to pay me to do a PhD, a beautiful thing indeed. The heritage angle was attractive for a wide range of reasons, partly in that it would allow me to pursue an academic path distinct from that other, most established, Dr Howell. I would wave farewell to my beloved archaeology, and dive head first into my heritage research. I’ve written at length on the actual research, and, at this particular point in time, have no inclination at all to face it again in detail. Covering heritage and politics in Wales, with comparisons in Iceland and Greenland, this was a very interesting, utterly unique and incredible well travelled investigation into Welsh heritage themes. It also took place what feels like a very, very long time ago. It was some point in the autumn of 2013 that I actually submitted the final draft. For one reason or another, most of which were completely unforeseeable and unfortunate circumstances, it took almost a year for us to reach examination. Day by day, my research became a little more dated, a little more contestable. By the end of my revision period, I was probably spending more time analysing events that had taken place after my research had ended, rather than exploring the research itself. In terms of the actual viva, at the second time of asking (having prepared for one already several months earlier), I took a pretty pragmatic approach. I had conducted the research, I had lectured on the subject matter for the last few years, and I had stayed on top of the actual subject field during the last year, all in all, I felt confident in the fact that I knew my stuff. Still, I read through the thesis again, though only the once. I thought I would tackle it several times, but one read through seemed to be enough to jog the memory. I was also finding all sorts of my own minor corrections, cursing the air every few pages as a ridiculous typo jumped out at me. I quickly tried to put such distractions to one side. The main revision ‘event’ took place the day before the viva, where I started sticking neon labels on to a range of pages. I just wanted to make some sort of map of the thesis, mark down where key arguments appeared. I sat sticking neon labels on to paper for the better part of six hours – in the viva, I did not refer to them once. Still, I’m confident that process played its part, I had an instant recall for the position and context of key quotes and themes, a familiarity with my work which surprised myself on the day. As the questions started coming in, I found that I had answers. Maybe one or two questions came as a slight surprise, but I had prepared for all eventualities. In my preparation for the first and cancelled viva, I had pinpointed areas where questions might be asked, and written down, by hand, a page worth of noted responses to each question. I had around eighty of these – it had been some time since I had written so much with a pen in hand. The result was a secondary mind map, full of practiced responses to the more obscure questions that might come my way. I certainly felt tense going in, as if a great weight had been attached to my chest with the expectation that I would carry it around all day. With each question, that tension eased, each response successfully executed felt like a nudge towards successful completion. The actual examination felt very quick, and I don’t think we were in the room for much more than an hour. I had prepared myself for things rumbling away for the better part of two hours, and it was with surprise more than relief, that the examiners began apologising for taking, what they felt, was so long – I would have been happy continuing for some time. Having left the room and grabbed a tea, it was less than ten minutes before I was being called back in. Spilling tea over one hand as I scurried back into the room, I received the news that I wanted to hear – a congratulations. That would have done for me, but some of the platitudes that I received were incredibly touching, and I have no shame in saying that while I was being complimented for my work, I had my tongue firmly bitten in the corner of my mouth to stop myself from bawling my eyes out. That tension, built up from eight months of preparation and waiting was finally over. The words that will last longest in my memory, was being told that my viva defence was the best that the examiners had seen in decades. I usually would not cite something like that, and prefer to keep it private, but for me, those words were the validation I think I had been looking for over these many years. Those were the words that washed away the laziness of London, and the blown distinction of Leicester – I had finally got this academic game sorted. All those shortcomings were obliterated in that moment, and for the first time that I can think of, I feel genuinely confident in my academic potential. I knew I could do this stuff, I think I actually believe I can now. So there we are, a journey that began over a decade ago in London is at an end. Of course, there is that whole needing to find another job thing which is somewhat pressing – and hopefully this will go some way to helping with that, but maybe that can wait until Monday. For now, I can sit back, ignore reality for a moment, and indulge in the ivory tower. Cigar, port, along with some other indulgences all seem in order. Cold, hard reality can wait, I’ll catch up with you next week. After a quest that lasted fourteen years, the start of the next one can wait a day or two. I seem to have no shortage of new projects going on at the moment - no bad thing giving my impending redundancy (though that's a story for another day)! What with end of year marking, job hunting, thesis prep (yes, the viva is still on the to-do list), our burgeoning Cyfarwydd organisation, forthcoming book chapters and an array of articles, I can't complain for want of things to do. That being said, I've recently had the pleasure of adding the Nomos Journal to that list.
The Nomos Journal is an interesting new digital publication, exploring connections between faith and popular culture. Today saw the launch of my column, which explores this relationship, perhaps unsurprisingly, through heritage. These two fields have significant overlap, and it seemed appropriate to get things started with a look at the increasingly fragile state of intangible cultural heritage in Wales. The column will be running on a quarterly basis, and I'm looking forward to the July addition. In the meantime, the theme for this month's column can be found below, and the rest of the column can be read at: http://nomosjournal.org/columns/2014/04/heritage-songs-the-decline-of-a-cultural-tradition/ Wales is a nation defined by a number of cultural stereotypes. Of these, singing and the choral tradition is one of the most heavily exported visions of Wales. The cultural origins for this intangible form of heritage are rooted in a faith-based non-conformist background, but as Wales becomes increasingly secular, what future does the singing tradition of Wales have? This week has seen the launch of our new project – Chartist Live 2014. As projects go, the inception of this one was perhaps a touch unusual. Walking, on route to the National Museum, a couple of weeks ago, I bumped into Les James, pioneer of many of the very good things to have been developed of late which explore Chartist heritage. A sprawling conversation, which touched at length once more on the sad demise of archaeology in the National Museum Wales organisation, eventually – perhaps inevitably if you know Les – got onto the subject of the Chartist anniversary celebrations. It was from there that we discussed the range of promotional possibilities for the celebrations, and I was surprised to learn that nothing had been developed for twitter. From that point, there was no looking back. Having mentioned twitter, Les asked if I would be happy developing something on this front and, with my partners in Cyfarwydd (more on that next month), @ChartistsLive was born. There is no shortage of excellent examples of the use of twitter in association with heritage themed events, and I have no shame in saying that this concept very much follows on the back of the tremendously successful @RealTimeWWII feed. With some 300k followers, the World War II themed feed has really highlighted the way in which these ‘as live’ period specific feeds can engage audiences. The scope for @ChartistsLive is of course somewhat narrower in comparison, but we should not forget that the Chartist story has a very wide reach. Followers are already being attracted from Australia, which has some obvious Chartist connections, while core followers in Canada highlight the reach of a Welsh story to expat communities. Covering the events building up to that fateful day in November 1839, @ChartistsLive develops a day by day narrative, following the main players in the Chartist campaign. Henry Vincent and John Frost will feature prominently, largely because their actions are so well documented, in the case of Vincent, by himself. However the Chartist story was a headline grabber in its day, so we can make liberal use of print media from 1839 as well. All of this will help create, what I hope will be, quite a holistic overview of 1839 – connecting media commentary, personal reflections and wider social insights on the conditions of the working classes in this tempestuous political period. I’m also developing what might amount to an unhealthy interest in this period as a result, with morning research on the topic having become a steady part of my daily routine. Still, it is all proving to be exceptionally interesting, and early feedback seems pretty positive too. So, here’s looking forward to this project’s development over the coming months – I imagine November is going to be exceptionally busy when it comes to tweeting! On the 24th of January, formal public consultation on the Newport City Council budget for 2014-15 will come to a close. In the coming seven days, it is possible that the fate of the Newport medieval ship will be determined, and there is little about the consultation that should make anyone feel comfortable or positive about what that fate might be. There is now a small window of opportunity for interested parties to voice their concerns and objections to the council, and I would encourage any and all who value the Newport ship, and see its potential, be that through education, tourism or simply on the grounds of preserving the heritage landscape of Newport, to get in touch with the local authority now. In terms of why we should be concerned about the future of the ship, a brief overview of the budget proposals reveals a number of suggested fiscal cuts, which would leave the ship homeless and without any curatorial or interpretive support in the near future. ‘The Council is committed to the completion of the conservation of the archaeological timbers, however, there is no funding to progress beyond this conservation phase.’ In the budget summary, while the council maintains its long standing commitment to completing the ongoing conservation process, it is quick to state that there is no additional money for the project beyond this point. Further, there is no mention of any intent to pursue additional funding, simply that the council intent is focused on reducing ship related costs to zero. In addition: ‘Staff working on the project will be at risk of redundancy (5 FTE staff impact, 2 vacant, 3 filled). This would result in limited knowledge within the organisation about the Ship. There will be a significant challenge to transfer the timbers to a suitable institution or organisation.’ While direct costs in relation to the presentation of the ship and ongoing costs, bar storage, would be removed in this scenario (open days for instance would, of course, end), there is the additional impact of staffing cuts. During the past decade and a bit, the Newport ship team has developed into a leading authority on this particularly unique archaeological collection. The creation of such expertise does not happen overnight, yet its loss can be instantaneous. Loss of funding for the ship would rob south east Wales of an assemblage which has the potential to be a significant tourist attraction, but as significant, we would lose the world class expertise which has grown around it. This is not so much a case of creating ‘limited knowledge within the organisation about the Ship’, it is a case of decimating it. While the ship has the potential to come and go in terms of where it is stored and displayed, the same cannot be said of the expertise. Once that is gone, it is gone. In terms of display, the council proposals make a token gesture: ‘However, some timbers will still be available to see at the Museum and the digital Archive will be available through Internet Archaeology in the next twelve months.’ The display of ‘some timbers’, however many that could plausibly be (i.e. not many), would be highly limited in scope and do little in terms of the potential of the collection. Yet this ‘display’ is dependent on the long term viability of the museum itself. Further to the proposed ship cuts, are reductions to the hours of provision provided by the current museum and library service. In addition, further recommendations on staff reductions within the museum service are made. Were these factors to combine, Newport could face the loss of access to the bulk of the Newport ship, the loss of all expertise on the collection, a reduced museum coupled with a reduction in expertise and staff numbers at that museum. The picture presented is a bleak one. Especially if one considers the gradual reduction of museum staffing and hours as the first step down a slippery slope towards closure. Back at the start of the year, I reflected on the short and long term future for the heritage sector in Wales, and cited the future of the Newport ship as a test case for the way in which we could expect our heritage resources to be treated in the coming years, as the full impacts of austerity gradually reveal themselves. At present, Newport City Council are arguing a case which would significantly undermine, if not totally erode the presence of the medieval ship in Newport, with no indication in their strategy that this artefact would play any role at all in the proposed regeneration of the city. This would be as critically short sighted as the same council’s original intention to bury the timbers under concrete. All is not lost though. In the last week, the Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Wales, faced with what seemed an inevitable ‘merger’ with Cadw, to be forced through by the Welsh Government, earned a reprieve. The weight of popular opinion, sent in to the Welsh Government, forced a rethink, and a stay of execution for the RCAHMW. This is what the ship, both the physical remains and the staff responsible for it, needs now. Comments can be sent in to Newport City Council via this link: http://www.newport.gov.uk/_dc/index.cfm?fuseaction=council.homepage&contentid=CONT543078 and I encourage any and all who value this unique element of both Newport, Welsh and British heritage, to voice their opinions as soon as possible. Despite mixed signals regarding download rates and subsequent use, digital resources, frequently manifest in the form of an ‘app’, have become one of the most ubiquitous forms of heritage and museum interpretative tools in recent years. Now I’ve never held myself up to be among the most technologically advanced of people, and a phone that opened like an original series Star Trek communicator was wizardry enough for me for almost a decade. Equally, there was once an occasion where I hurled a book at a television in outrage at the perpetual references to ‘apps’ in television advertising. I did not give in to progression without some severe resistance. Yet, here I am today with my smart phone, upon which I can conduct the vast majority of my day to day business, and I love it – my inner luddite is screaming at me in protest I’m sure. As a result, I can now freely explore and take advantage of the growing range of heritage and museums apps, many of which are free to download. However, I’m still not particularly on the ball with things. The Archwilio app for instance is a classic. Launched just over a month ago, I was among those to be espousing the virtues of such a device, and naturally downloaded it on the day of release, and my new app sat proudly on the front page of my mobile phone...and there is stayed, untapped, unexplored, utterly redundant, for the following month. I can’t help wonder if this is the fate shared by many of our heritage downloads – can we effectively measure participation in relation to downloads? A question for another time perhaps. With the teaching year wrapped up, I have now had, at last, an opportunity to press the ‘A’ symbol on my phone, and finally give this app a proper run through its paces, and I was not disappointed. Some context here is perhaps necessary. Archwilio is a collaborative effort between the four archaeological trusts in Wales. The project looks to make available a digital archive of all of the archaeological sites and listed buildings located in Wales. Accessibility is at the heart of this project, and this arguably unique endeavour should be celebrated on principle alone – to make the entire national archive freely available, through mobile phone technologies, is a concept that must be applauded. The application is certainly promising. Again, I am no expert whatsoever when it comes to digital technologies. To the expert eye, this might be an utterly hackneyed effort at a mobile phone app, I simply would not know the difference (though I promise to expand my knowledge base on such resources over the winter period), but I have at the very least found it easy to use and make sense of, and, probably the most important result of all, I have learned about new sites because of it. Walking around Caerleon and Ponthir today, I enjoyed scanning the landscape to confirm the locations of previous excavations and find spots. It is important to note that Archwilio is far from complete. Checking up on some sites, including those I have excavated, I found odd gaps in the archive. Still, it is early days, and the resource is, or should be, continuously updated. The capacity for users to suggest sites for inclusion, additional information, and site images, is equally important, and reinforces the sense that this is not a prescriptive resource, but a participatory one. In terms of my test run, I discovered new sites in Ponthir, a community I walk through daily. Even visually prominent sites, such as the nineteenth century Baptist Chapel, were new to me. Having found the site marked on my Archwilio map, I then immediately swung by to visit the site. This alone must be seen as some sort of success for the app. The frustrated Pokemon collector in me would love to see some manner of check list, to tick off sites visited (after all, you gotta catch em all – excuse flashbacks to my youth), but this is far from essential. I’ll certainly be making generous use of this as I visit familiar and unfamiliar sites alike in the future. The potential of the resource is staggering and I would certainly encourage those with an interest in their surrounding landscape to at least have a look at Archwilio. It might not be the most polished app available, but as an open door to the archaeological landscape of Wales, Archwilio has no rival. Archwilio can be downloaded from google play, with more information available at the homepage. Really quite difficult to know what to make of today. When I woke up, I was full of energy and excitement about the Chartist mural. We were going to be protesting on Saturday, the first thing I’d felt compelled to protest about for years, probably not since my undergraduate days. The fate of the mural was a major theme in my teaching, becoming the topic of conversation in both lectures today; yet little did I know that while I spoke about the possibly outcomes for the mural in the long term, it’s short term, and ultimate fate, was being decided by the blade of a JCB. I received a text message just as my last lecture ended, which prompted me to log into twitter. There I was confronted by an image of the Chartist mural, gouged through the middle, cubes scattered across the underpass floor... They actually did it. One of my earliest memories of the mural was being walked through the images with my parents. My father attempted to explain the significance of the story, but as a child I was probably more scared by the images than anything else. Since then, the mural has always been with me. Every time when passing through Newport, it was there. When I worked with Newport Museum, twice daily I would wander past the mural, and always, always find some new feature tucked away. No more. Everything about the loss of the mural leaves a particularly foul taste in the mouth. For all the positioning and commissioning of reports, most of us never really doubted that Newport City Council only ever had one intention, and that was to demolish. To do it in such an underhand manner as this though was really the last insult of a series of affronts. Random numbers of £600,000 were cited for the removal of the murals – many asked ‘based on what’? We were told the mural could not be removed due to it being fused with the wall behind – as the JCB did its work, that was quickly revealed to be either wrong, or a simple lie. Health and safety was cited as to why the mural had to be torn down – yet if the building was so tremendously dangerous, why rumble around with JCBs beneath said unstable structure, smashing into the walls? If you were to take everything the council came out with on face value, you could only be confused by their course of action. Yet, deeply cynical and hurt views are the ones that remain, and trust for the body responsible will not be readily forthcoming anytime soon. But for all the accusations and recriminations (of which there must be, at the ballot box if nowhere else), first and foremost this is a very, very sad day. A part of the cultural landscape of Newport is no more. With the best will in the world, there was not a great deal of that cultural landscape left to preserve in the first place. The Chartist mural now joins either end of the Newport ship, the beautiful Lyceum Theatre (along with most of Newport’s late 18th and early 19th century architecture) and the bulk of Newport Castle, as one more lost legacy, one more part of Newport heritage to be chipped away and sent to oblivion. Angry, yes; shocked, certainly; saddened, above all things. If you like all things to do with heritage, then these are interesting times in which we live. For Wales, the Heritage Bill consultation rumbles forward, courting controversy all the time regarding the fate of Cadw and the RCAHMW. The World Heritage Site of Blaenafon is making national headlines as an exemplar for future World Heritage bids across Britain. Meanwhile, Newport finds itself at the centre of verbal brawling and public protests regarding the fate of its ‘heritage’ mural depicting the Chartist rising. Heritage in Wales is certainly not short of interesting issues. Archaeology and history each in turn court their own headlines. The Welsh Government is actively encouraging the extension of Welsh history provision throughout schools, while the country continues to be a rich ground for archaeological discoveries of international significance. Truly, we could not be better placed as a nation to engage with such subject areas and, as a campus, we in Caerleon could not be better placed to explore these issues. It is with these thoughts in mind that we turn attention to a proposed new degree. While the provision of history education in Caerleon has long been established, and before that, archaeological work of global significance (no exaggeration) was conducted at the campus, we are now looking at developing a brand new degree in Heritage, Archaeology and Historical Studies. Looking to build on the respected historical research already maintained in Caerleon, we now want to expand and develop the position of heritage and archaeology in our teaching, reflecting the growing significance for these areas, in national strategies for Wales. However, there is no point in developing something in isolation, and no degree will ever run without people to participate in it. So, today I’m asking you to follow the link below and get involved. I want you to tell us whether or not this degree is something that you would be interested in, or something you would have been interested in had you had the opportunity to engage with it in the past. I want you to tell me what you would want to get out of this degree, what would make it a degree that you would choose above others, and throw yourself into. This is important, whatever your viewpoint, this degree will not happen without your help and input. So please do take the time to fill in the few questions asked, and let anyone you know who has an interest in these areas to get in touch as well. Any and all feedback would be greatly appreciated, and please feel free to get in touch through other means if you have any questions. Please find the questionnaire here. (Finally, I've noticed a lot of comments on the questionnaire response form, which is brilliant, that sort of detail is exactly what we want. However, do feel free to post comments here, as well as on the form - only I can't respond to comments on the survey but I can do here - if you want to discuss elements of the proposal that is.) |
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