Archaeologists working in Inner Mongolia have discovered an 8,000 year-old Neolithic village complete with remnant foundations, artifacts, and a tomb. The bones in the tomb dated to 8,400 years ago. We’re talking eight millennia. Let’s get a perspective.
About a millennium ago, the Pueblo (Anasazi) culture flourished in the American Southwest. Leif Eriksson chanced upon North America. Danes controlled England. About two millennia ago, Christ walked roads in the Middle East; Caesar Augustus ruled the Roman Empire, and the Han dynasty arose in China. About three millennia ago, Phoenicians sailed the Mediterranean; the Olmecs flourished, and the Adena people built mounds in the Ohio valley. Then, at four millennia ago, people occupied Stonehenge and built the first palace on Knossos. Around 5,000 years ago the Neolithic Period came to an end, Stonehenge was in its initial building stages, and the Aegean Bronze Age began; the Minoan culture arose, and agriculture started to change how humans could acquire food as urban dwellers. Go back six millennia and you see the development of copper metallurgy in Europe, the first metal ploughs, and potters’ wheels. China was in its Neolithic Period some seven thousand years ago, and some group built circular ditches in Central Europe. Skip back yet another millennium and you see a functional village whose ruins archaeologists recently unearthed in Inner Mongolia, a village constructed and occupied 84 centuries ago.
I don’t know how this impinges on your idea of place, but for me the lesson is threefold. First, I know that any place, save the recent occupation of peaks of the highest, bleakest mountains, the coldest Arctic and Antarctic realms, and the driest of deserts probably had some variable human influence over 8,400 years. That means that where I live had in the near and distant past a shaper and that I am, like the transitional tenants in an apartment building, just a temporary resident who might or might not contribute anything to the character of the place. Second, I know that leaving a mark for future residents is chancy at best, especially when I consider the great depth of time from which I get hints of life only through the tedious work of archaeologists. Third, I know that regardless of my level of hubris, I am not a long term owner, if I consider “long term” relative to age of the Inner Mongolian village.
That first alteration of the land, that first farm by an unknown farmer, made my life possible. The first villages were the foundations of my urbanized living. I know the point is old and cliché. But if I consider place as primary because, as I argue, there’s no time without place—no time until after the Big Bang—then by looking at place I can fully understand why this is not my practice life. I have to consider how I might leave a place so that others might know that I was here giving them something significant that enhances their own use after I am gone. Whatever I do will eventually fall into ruin, but if I’m a bit skilled and a bit lucky, I will have some positive effect on those who occupy this place, the world, shortly after me.
So, too, you. You and your work will become the remnants, the artifacts, future archaeologists will carefully uncover as they study and define place. You are the foundation of an Inner Mongolian village that tells the tale of your time.
About a millennium ago, the Pueblo (Anasazi) culture flourished in the American Southwest. Leif Eriksson chanced upon North America. Danes controlled England. About two millennia ago, Christ walked roads in the Middle East; Caesar Augustus ruled the Roman Empire, and the Han dynasty arose in China. About three millennia ago, Phoenicians sailed the Mediterranean; the Olmecs flourished, and the Adena people built mounds in the Ohio valley. Then, at four millennia ago, people occupied Stonehenge and built the first palace on Knossos. Around 5,000 years ago the Neolithic Period came to an end, Stonehenge was in its initial building stages, and the Aegean Bronze Age began; the Minoan culture arose, and agriculture started to change how humans could acquire food as urban dwellers. Go back six millennia and you see the development of copper metallurgy in Europe, the first metal ploughs, and potters’ wheels. China was in its Neolithic Period some seven thousand years ago, and some group built circular ditches in Central Europe. Skip back yet another millennium and you see a functional village whose ruins archaeologists recently unearthed in Inner Mongolia, a village constructed and occupied 84 centuries ago.
I don’t know how this impinges on your idea of place, but for me the lesson is threefold. First, I know that any place, save the recent occupation of peaks of the highest, bleakest mountains, the coldest Arctic and Antarctic realms, and the driest of deserts probably had some variable human influence over 8,400 years. That means that where I live had in the near and distant past a shaper and that I am, like the transitional tenants in an apartment building, just a temporary resident who might or might not contribute anything to the character of the place. Second, I know that leaving a mark for future residents is chancy at best, especially when I consider the great depth of time from which I get hints of life only through the tedious work of archaeologists. Third, I know that regardless of my level of hubris, I am not a long term owner, if I consider “long term” relative to age of the Inner Mongolian village.
That first alteration of the land, that first farm by an unknown farmer, made my life possible. The first villages were the foundations of my urbanized living. I know the point is old and cliché. But if I consider place as primary because, as I argue, there’s no time without place—no time until after the Big Bang—then by looking at place I can fully understand why this is not my practice life. I have to consider how I might leave a place so that others might know that I was here giving them something significant that enhances their own use after I am gone. Whatever I do will eventually fall into ruin, but if I’m a bit skilled and a bit lucky, I will have some positive effect on those who occupy this place, the world, shortly after me.
So, too, you. You and your work will become the remnants, the artifacts, future archaeologists will carefully uncover as they study and define place. You are the foundation of an Inner Mongolian village that tells the tale of your time.
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