CT scanning in archaeology

In this chapter we will review the use of x-ray computed tomography (CT) scanning in the field of archaeology. The story will be told in roughly chronological order, starting with the first reported use of a CT scanner in the field of archaeology and then look at some some possibilities for the future. Since the introduction of the x-ray CT scanner in the 1970’s the quality of the images has steadily improved enabling the role of the CT scanner to expand into the field of archaeology. In the context of this chapter, archaeology will be deemed to include the study of ancient human remains and artefacts but exclude remains from pre-history, which normally comes under the heading of palaeontology. (It would perhaps be appropriate to note that CT scanners have been successfully applied in the study of fossils). CT scans have mostly been used to study mummies but have also been used to examine other archaeological artefacts such as clay tablets, scrolls, pottery, bronze statues and swords.

Tragedy and assimilation : reciprocity between surface and subject

Here we unveil a tragic triptych of three Australian women painfully painted onto the walls of interior surfaces. The woman at the centre of the triptych is Florence Broadhurst whose tragic death still remains a mystery. To the right is Australian skin illustrator Emma Hack who recreates Broadhurst’s wallpapers, mimicking their colourful patterns onto live models. Hack perfectly assimilates the models’ body into the wallpaper, camouflaging bodies except for small hints at something more in the foreground. In the process of Hack’s images, the models become statues, standing painfully still holding their breath for minutes at a time. The third woman, to the left of the triptych, is the fictional character Candy from the 2006 Australian film Candy. Candy’s traumatic struggle with addiction ends with her conveying her pain in a poem she writes on the walls of her home; culminating her tragic story into a disturbed domestic wall surface. This research tries to understand this relationship with the surface through tragedy as a reciprocal agreement between surface and subject and not a permanent transference between one state and another. What the surface provides in times of personal struggle and turmoil is a method for us to come to terms with out material existence.

The iconic and the critical

Theodor Adorno was opposed to the cinema because he felt it was too close to reality, and ipso facto an extension of ideological Capital, as he wrote in 1944 in Dialectic of Enlightenment. What troubled Adorno was the iconic nature of cinema – the semiotic category invented by C. S. Peirce where the signifier (sign) does not merely signify, in the arbitrary capacity attested by Saussure, but mimics the formal-visual qualities of its referent. Iconicity finds its perfect example in the film’s ingenuous surface illusion of an unmediated reality – its genealogy (the iconic), since classical antiquity, lay in the Greek term eikōn which meant “image,” to refer to the ancient portrait statues of victorious athletes which were thought to bear a direct similitude with their parent divinities. For the postwar, Hollywood-film spectator, Adorno said, “the world outside is an extension of the film he has just left,” because realism is a precise instrument for the manipulation of the mass spectator by the culture industry, for which the filmic image is an advertisement for the world unedited. Mimesis, or the reproduction of reality, is a “mere reproduction of the economic base.” It is precisely film’s iconicity, then, its “realist aesthetic . . . [that] makes it inseparable from its commodity character.”...