Porticoes, Embodiment and Street Cries: Recent work…

Image: North Cardo Maximus, facing south, towards the forum in Ostia (Jeff Veitch)

Currently, I am working on a variety of different things all at once (presentations, publications, job applications). I have not posted here as much due to these activities and some, like job applications, are not very exciting things to discuss on the blog. However there are a couple of concepts and ideas that are worth briefly discussing, in the hopes that it will motivate me to devote more time to them in the coming months. So, here are a couple of topics swimming in my head right now…

Porticoes: I have two upcoming presentations that I am working on (details here). Originally, I had planned to write two completely separate papers on different aspects of my work (motivating me to write and formulate more particular approaches, ideas, etc). Instead, the two presentations will draw on case studies of porticoes from Ostia. In preparing these presentations, I keep returning to the experienced difference of portico architecture within the social space of streets. At a basic level, the portico is shaded and separated from the street. In auditory terms, the portico and street are different auditory fields, however the two fields influence each other. When the acoustic properties of street canyons are modelled, in instances where porticoes exist, the properties show a marked progression towards the acoustic properties of Ostia’s main street, the decumanus. In a way, certain streets approach the auditory character of the decumanus with the addition of porticoes. The chronology further emphasises the experienced character of the space, which is replicated to various degrees in other places across the city. Streets that could never reach the scale of the decumanus are able to mimic its auditory experience through more controlled and smaller scale developments. I will be testing some of these ideas this next week, when I present in Kiel, Germany.

Embodiment: Several books, lectures and writings have brought embodiment back to the forefront of what I am doing. I picked up Terry Eagleton’s new book, Materialism, and he makes a case for the importance of embodiment in Marx, as well as other forms of materialism. Tied into the emphasis on embodiment is the role of the senses as ways of measuring urban space or embodiment as site of particular forms of knowledge gleaned from the senses. These are not new ideas for me, but they are beginning to crystallise in particular ways (as well as focusing my generally scattered interests). Much of these ideas will appear in my presentations coming up, although they are primarily in the background and theory behind the presentations.

Finally, street cries: Street noise is one of the primary topics in my work and one that I continue dig into. After the winter holidays, I read through a series of books on Paris in the 18th and 19th century. Street criers, sellers and vendors were a part of the landscape of the city in that period and changes to the architecture of Paris were expressed in relation to street noise. There are some parallels with the ancient world, although comparisons need to be cautiously approached. What I find most useful, however, is the theoretical implication of much of this work, which builds bridges between social, political and economic aspects of the senses and their spatial settings. In short, as the topography of Paris changes, the sensorium likewise changes; these shifts produce different social, political and economic spatialities. Rome, I would argue, undergoes parallel changes in many ways. To say that architectural changes that alter the topography of Rome change the experience of the city is obvious. However, what need further study are the particularities of these changes.

How did the addition of porticoes change the way sellers utilised street space? What are the economic implications? Or social? Or political, for that matter? Do street traders change tactics in response to the development of porticoes along streets? Some of these questions have begun to be addressed in various ways. Sarah Bond’s new book, Trade & Taboo: Disreputable Professions in the Roman Mediterranean, address aspects of social stigmas towards criers and auctioneers (praeco). In particular, Bond emphasises the changing nature of such social stigmas from the late Republic to late antiquity. The emphasis on changing stigmas, parallels my own interest in changing urban forms. In a different context, Arjan Zuiderhoek, in The Ancient City (part of the Key Themes in Ancient History series), discusses (briefly) street sellers in terms of a wider understanding of ancient cities. Zuiderhoek covers a similar longue durée of ancient history, although he highlights continuity in city formations, focusing instead more on the archaeological material and current debates. Both are recent publications, which highlight some of the areas for further investigation.

Hopefully, in the coming months some of these ideas will formulate into even more coherent research agendas, possible publications and further blog posts. In the meantime, it’s back to presentation prep and editing a chapter due by the end of the month…

Senses of the Empire is out!

Image: Senses of the Empire book cover (Routledge 2017)

Available here Table of Contents Introduction: Senses of Empire Eleanor Betts Chapter 1 The Sounds of the City: from Noise to Silence in Ancient Rome Ray Laurence Chapter 2 The Multivalency of Sensory Artefacts in the City of Rome Eleanor Betts Chapter 3 Beyond Smell: the Sensory Landscape of the Roman fullonica Miko Flohr Chapter 4 […]

via New publication: Senses of the Empire Multisensory Approaches to Roman Culture — Sensory Studies in Antiquity

I have a chapter in Senses of the Empire: Multisensory Approaches to Roman Culture, edited by Eleanor Betts. It is an exciting volume covering a aspects of methods, theories and historical insights into sensory studies of antiquity. My chpater outlines my own methodology for assessing acoustic properties in an archaeological context. The conference in which this volume comes out of was my first foray into sensory studies approaches and it is great to see the final result (although I have not yet received my copy of the book…).

Making sense of antiquity: Review of The Senses in Antiquity series (Routledge) in The Senses & Society 12.1

Image: The Forum Romanum (Jeff Veitch)

My review of Mark Bradley and Shane Bulter’s The Senses in Antiquity book series was published in the journal The Senses and Society. I review the three books out so far (Synaesthesia, Smell, and Sight). The issue is available here (you will need institutional access). I have posted a preprint here.

Non-visual knowledge & sensory metaphors: J. Butler, A. Amin & N. Thrift, & S. Graham

I attended Judith Butler’s Houseman Lecture at UCL on Wednesday, which was recorded and should be available on YouTube soon (I’ll add a link as soon as they post the lecture). The lecture was titled ‘Kinship Trouble in The Bacchae’ and explored issues with the kinship categories in Greek tragedy. While Greek tragedy is not my specialty, contemporary discussions of social relationships and interactions in their spatial configuration and geography are relevant too much of my work.

In particular, I was struck by two points in the lecture: 1) an emphasis on non-visual forms of knowledge/recognition; and 2) the use of sensory metaphors, in particular sound metaphors, to describe the dialectic (my term) implicit in kinship relations, or social relations in general.

Non-visual forms of knowledge are at the centre of my acoustic work. The experience of acoustics, hearing a sound in a particular space, immediately tells us something about the space, in a non-visual way. Usually this is the volume of the room, a measurement gleaned from sound better than sight. At a couple of points in her lecture, Butler made reference to the inadequacy of visual recognition. Children stories are full of misunderstood kinship relations typified in the question, ‘are you my mother?’ These narratives are grounded in the requirement of audible asking, rather than visual confirmation. Related to this misrecognition, Butler pointed out that it is through sound that children are taught the first level of kinship relations in the learning of the words ‘mum’ or ‘dad’. Now, apart with learning the word the child is taught to associate it with the proper object. Here it is attaching the sound to the proper object that forms the initial recognition, which the visual signifier can be later misunderstood. This interests me as an aspect of the complexity of sensory experience and the social/cultural forms of misunderstanding or misrecognition of that experience. I found it fascinating to think about the initial teaching of the child through sound, only to later questions the visual recognition and to return to sound for proper confirmation.

Recently, I have been working on a chapter looking at sensory approaches to ancient cities and urbanism. In the writing process, I found that I was using sensory metaphors to describe unstable, continuously moving, or aspects ‘in process’. Standard discussions of archaeology rely on visual metaphors, which have stable, fixed and static connotations. In contrast, sound metaphors have more dynamic connotations. Echoes rebound off structures; resonances vibrate and energise after the initial production. Two writings drew my attention to non-visual metaphors as better modes of discourse: Amin and Thrift’s Cities: Reimagining the Urban and Graham’s chapter, ‘Counting bricks and stacking wood’ in The Cambridge Companion to Ancient Rome.

In her lecture, Butler continually returned to the implicit dynamic in kinship where one alternates between feelings of love/murder and recognition/unknowing. In describing these alterations, she drew on sound metaphors, especially resonance, echo and reverberation. It seemed that these metaphors made sense of the complexity implicit in affects and social relations at the centre of kinship relations. Auditory metaphors further imply a certain methodological practice, namely reflection. That is to say, the metaphors are ground in sound reflecting off things or parallel frequencies sounding together (resonance). I have discussed my own interest in reflexivity as a methodological tool. The interactions between people and space are reflexive and shape one another simultaneously, an aspect experienced in hearing an echo or resonant note.

Amin and Thrift critically questions three standard metaphors for the city and everyday urbanism, namely the flâneur and transitivity, rhythms and rhythmanalysis, and urban footprints and naming (10-25). These metaphors, for Amin and Thrift, are used with minimal methodological clarity, although they do emphasise that the metaphors are sensory. The critique is a valid reminder of the need to use the right metaphor to clarify complex and dynamic processes, which the urban metaphors were opening up. What is worth remembering is the way metaphors can open up new ways of understanding, but that these understandings, and metaphors, need to be critiqued, as well.

In a different way, Graham (checkout his website) shows the way sensory metaphors can be used to open up new understandings of urban processes. At the outset, Graham notes the use of metaphors as conditioning the way we think about the city. In this case, the city is a living thing that is an ‘emergent feature of the way its citizens interact’ (278). Graham draws on the metaphors of background hum or noise to discuss the flows of energy (both human and material) through the city of ancient Rome. Anyone aware of my own work will immediately know my interest in such usage. Drawing on figures for man power days, materials needed and load carrying measures, Graham calculates the provisions of material, people and transport for building in Rome, which makes up the background hum of movement and work in the city. In certain instances, peaks in activity would punctuate this noise, such as imperial building projects. In my own work, I have focused on the actual noise of such construction however, when dealing with certain scales, like the whole city of Rome, the particularity of individual sounds looses its importance. Instead, the auditory metaphor allows for the focus to shift between specific activity and city scale.

Graham has also worked with sonification, which is in a way an auditory metaphor. Sonification converts data into a song and allows one to listen to the analysed data. Although self-proclaimed ‘bad’ music, Graham has set a variety of different data sets to song here (Cacophony: Bad Algorithmic Music to Muse To). This is often done with geospatial data as you can hear the changes in the song as you move geographically across a map, although you can do the same with temporal changes. At Programming Historian, Graham has a leason on the process of sonification (here). This form of data manipulation serves as an auditory metaphor, making connections and clarifying aspects implicit in data that are not visable. Again, this allows for ways of understanding to be separated from visual forms, taping into other sensory modalities to create knowledge.

 

Some Thoughts on 3D Models, or Putting 3D Models to Research Use

I have an unease with ‘historical reconstructions’, 3D modelling and VR/AR of historical remains that centres on questions of research (see here). This is not to say such reconstructions are ‘bad’, but they seem to be an end-in-themselves. The reconstruction is a way of visualising the total understanding of ‘X’ (whether a building, street, city, etc.) and that is that. No further questions.

However, this reduces the reconstruction to nothing more than a pretty spreadsheet. Yes, a very pretty spreadsheet, but an expensive catalogue of archaeological remains (like this). Instead, I see the ‘tool’ side of models as their primary purpose. Models can be used as a tool to critically evaluate the ancient remains in a way other forms of research do not. As an example, a friend posted this NY Times article on mapping the shadows of buildings in NYC. It is a fascinating read about the effects of the skyline in everyday choices, movements, and, most important for NYC, property values.

‘Sunlight and shadow shape the character and rhythm of New York’s public spaces. They have the power to control the flow of foot traffic on our city streets and decide which plazas hum with activity and commerce and which stay barren and desolate. And probably most noticeably, they have the power to change the rent.’ (Bui and White).

Air and sunlight are, for NYC, commodities that shape the value of a property. I was immediately drawn to Roman law. Air and sunlight were legal requirements that restricted extensions to buildings (Dig. 7.1.30; 39.2.25; 8.2.11) and Vitruvius discuss the placement of certain rooms based on seasonal sunlight patterns (De Arch. 6.3.11; 6.6.6). The importance of air and sunlight were recognised by the Romans and this importance worked its way into law. This process from lived experience to legal requirement can be seen in terms of the commodification of sunlight similar to NYC (although, not in the same capitalist sense).

In my own research, I have looked at some of the social processes (all related to sounds) that shaped the way the ancient urban environment was constructed. Sunlight is an example of a natural process (non-built) that shapes social interaction in urban space. It is that point, the non-built aspect of sunlight in relation to physical buildings that allows for models to be a critical tool. I can stand in Ostia and track the movement of the sun’s path, but by modelling the building and sun’s path, I can question building heights influence on street space, or requirement of internal lighting for room usage, or even hypothesise relative values based on direct sunlight in comparison with other buildings. The list goes on the more you think about (as I have found out…). So, with the legal requirement of light and the archaeological remains of Ostia (as well as a question from a friend), I went fishing for sun path models to apply to Roman buildings.

It did not take long to find Andrew Marsh’s blog, which has a web-based app for 3D sun path analysis. As the sun’s path is based on the geographical location of the space in question, the app uses Google earth to pull coordinates (top left in the screenshot below). There is a map of the daylight length (bottom left) and a moveable 3D model of a multifunctional urban space (right). The 3D is centred on the building in red and set on a compass so, you can orient it, if you like (I set it roughly to the orientation of the site so, I did not confuse myself).

screen-shot-2017-01-11-at-9-56-22-am

Sun-path for the Portico di Pio IX in Ostia on 12 Jan. at 10:30am (from http://andrewmarsh.com/apps/staging/sunpath3d.html)

I selected the Portico di Pio IX on the north card maximus in Ostia (see here, here and a forthcoming chapter here) and tomorrows date (12 Jan.) at 10:30am. The day length is relatively narrow and the suns path is rather low in the sky, running from 120∘ (SE) – 240∘ (SW). This creates long shadows to the west in the morning appearing between 8:10-20, direct sunlight down the street at midday, and long shadows to the east in the evening until sunset around 16:30-40. This forms the basic outline of sunlight throughout the day (at this point in the yearly cycle).

Now, what are missing in this scenario are the buildings along the cardo maximus. The mixed-use urban space in the 3D model is instructive, but only if you know the buildings on the street (this is where models become more than pretty pictures). Now, the cardo is an open space (8 m wide and 130 m long) with two identical buildings on either side (rows of 8 shops with a portico in front). At midday (12:00), the sun would be reaching its peak, almost due south of the street. Two things come to mind; 1) this indicates that the temple (Capitolium) in the forum would receive direct sunlight to its facade and steps, while 2) casting a long shadow down the cardo. This feature would not change throughout the year, as at the summer solstice and winter solstice the sun’s position, at midday, remains in the southern region of the sky.

I also found a dynamic daylight analysis app on Marsh’s blog, which allows one to simulate daylight in a simple room (initial release so just a square room). So, I built a shop in the Portico di Pio IX and set a window to the size of the front door (as there is no ‘door’ in the model).

Screen Shot 2017-01-10 at 5.02.30 PM.png
Dynamic daylight model of a shop (Portico di Pio IX) (from http://andrewmarsh.com/apps/staging/daylight-box.html)

The shops in the Portico di Pio IX had two levels (a mezzanine space above the ground floor); the model is of the ground floor area, under the mezzanine. Again, the app allows you to mess with the orientation and you can adjust all the elements as needed. The result, shown above, is as expected. A high daylight factor (DF) in the area around the shutters with the work plane height set at 1 m. The DF range is between 2.7% and 23.9% with an average of 5.7%. The DF is the ratio of light inside to light outside the room (a calculation used in architectural design. There are slight changes to the DF ratios as the work plane changes (avg increase to 6.8% at 0.05 m from the floor) and at a work plane height of 2.135 m the DF avg drops to 4%.

As an example, I placed the work plane height at 0.85 m, which corresponds to several bar counter heights in Ostia (see Hermansen 1982). The result is interesting, or at least allows for some comment. At 3 m into the shop, the DF is in the range of 6-8%, suggesting that natural light would light a counter (as counters were under 3 m in length).

Screen Shot 2017-01-11 at 11.25.28 AM.png
Dynamic daylight in shop (Portico di Pio IX) with a work plane height of 0.85 m (highlighted in red; bar counter height) and DF contour grid in 3D. (From http://andrewmarsh.com/apps/staging/daylight-box.html)

What is missing, which will change this model, is the portico space in front of the shop. As seen in the sun-path, there will be little direct sunlight into the shops along the Portico di Pio IX. In particular, the shops on the westside will get early morning sunlight and the westside, evening sunlight. The portico will block much of the light at these times, however in the midday sun, it will provide needed shade (as anyone who has worked in Italy in August can attest). What this model does suggest is that choices, such as counter height, could be dictated by natural light, and importantly, the heating capacity of natural light. Although, in the case of the Caseggiato del Termopolio (1.2.5; the most well-known bar in Ostia) it’s counter and space orientation will never receive direct sunlight. What we might begin to see is the material remains of the ‘commodification’ (for lack of a better term) of sunlight within an ancient context.

Finally, it is worth returning to the start of this post. 3D models and reconstructions are useful and helpful for historical research. The discussion here has benefited directly from such modelling techniques, although, as stated, it was the need to move past the image, fly-through, or even simply trying to document every element within the model that drove my interest. We need to push the utility of 3D models and reconstructions for critical questioning of our own academic assumptions and start to use them for addressing new modes of enquiry and topics of interest, rather than as an end in-themselves.

Back to Ostia… and Rome!

I fly out today for two weeks in Rome. I will be doing some field work for the first half and then presenting at the Roman Archaeology Conference in Rome the second week.

Recently, I have been working on the acoustics of street spaces. I have concentrated on the north cardo maximus, which is a single large scale development of the area north of the forum. The street is lined with porticos on each side and is uniform in its construction. The cardo maximus is the second widest street in Ostia, only the decumanus is wider. In many ways, the cardo maximus is the main street one would enter coming from the Tiber (unlike today, where we enter from land). In contrast, I have been analysing a side street, which was not uniformily constructed and lacks porticos or other monumental features. The Via degli Augustale is the opposite to the north cardo maximus. My field work will focus on the development of the street and the way individual owners shaped the streetscape.

In terms of acoustics, as well as sounds, the complex construction, reconstruction, and continuous work along the Via degli Augustale all shaped the way the streets sound field. A temple along the decumanus was dedicated in the 190s CE, which reduced an open street area along the street. The noise of the temple (sacrifices, processions, etc.) would now dominate the north end of the street, while at the south end was one of the largest fulleries. It is the interactions between these various activities in the street space that produces a different experience, than that of the cardo maximus.

Some of this work will, hopefully, make it into my presentation at RAC. I am in a session discussing sensory approaches to movement in the Roman period. Much of the presentation will be an introduction to my basic approach, but I will use my north cardo work as a case study. If things go as planned, I should be able to share a bit about the comparison with other streets, like the Via degli Augustale. Fingers crossed.

Finally, an update on the blog: I have started to pull together some resources on acoustics, under the ‘Acoustic Resources’ tab at the top. I have linked to Electric Archaeology’s github on sonification, which involves turning a data set into a song. It’s a great way to present data in a different format, requiring people to engage with data through listening. I also posted some work that I will be presenting in April. There are a couple of network graphs of sound roots, street terms and Latin authors I created pulling references from the Packard Humanities Institute database. They show the terms prefered by authors, as well as the connections between places (street terms) and sounds (Latin root words for sounds/noise). The graphs are interactive so, you can scroll over a term/author/word and it will highlight the network associated with the selection.

 

 

Johnny Cash in the Baths of Neptune

This last weekend I tried a new form of presentation for my acoustic analysis. It was a short 10 minute presentation at Multitudo: a multisensory, multilayered and multidirectional approach to classical studies. I was part of the organising committee for the workshop and we were drawn to non-academic ways of presenting our research. I decided to test out a ‘reverse’ of my usual presentation style.

My usual: intro acoustics, physics of sound, maths, sums…; followed by discussion of spaces with plans, graphs and tables; finish with social-spatial implications.

 

This time I started with a sound sample. I played a 20 second clip of Johnny Cash’s God’s Gonna Cut You Down. The clip was EQ’d flat, with no reverb. I then played 3 more versions of the clip, each set to the reverberation time and EQ of a room from the Baths of Neptune. I then showed one of my standard plans of the Baths with the reverberation times for each room colour coded. I asked the audience to try and figure out the relationship of the sound sample with the rooms on the plan.

It was a challenging exercise. Most people haven’t spent hours listening to tracks, adjusting the EQ or reverb. Most of us don’t connect what we hear with the space we hear those sounds in. And most of us don’t think about the space that is created in the post-production of making a record. At the same time, it’s a great exercise in relating acoustic discussions to different spaces.

I was asked in the question time why I picked Johnny Cash and not some choral, symphonic or even ‘ancient’ style music. I thought I would layout my response here, as it gets at some of my driving questions behind my project.

  1. I picked the Johnny Cash song because it is a simple track with almost no reverb or processing to start with. I used the first 20 seconds of the track, which is just foot stomps, claps, guitar and Johnny’s voice. The flat response of the song means that when I altered it to each room it would be noticeable and wouldn’t get lost in an abundance of different sounds.
  2. I needed a clip with some low end frequencies, which I could draw out for one of the samples. Johnny’s voice has a deep resonance, which showed off the long reverb and muddy character of the low frequency noise.
  3. I used a contemporary song, one I expected a majority of people to know, because I wanted to make a connection with the audience. In my answer, I said, “Playing a foreign sound, in a foreign space and asking foreign questions, is too much for an audience.” I am not interested in simply recreating ‘ancient’ sounds. By using a contemporary song, the focus shifts to the changes created by the space, not the authenticity of the sound. This is probably the main theoretical reason for the choice. My project uses acoustics to better understand the architecture and architectural history of Rome.
  4. Finally, it is way more fun to put Johnny Cash in the Baths of Neptune, than it would be to play white noise or a frequency tone. The music is only a tool, which conveys architectural information. While I could use any sound, I used something that entertained me, as well. It takes time, and a lot of repeating, to get the clips right. I picked a song that I could repeat without going to crazy…

I was impressed with the response and have been thinking about adding sound samples to more of my presentations. It was far more engaging, and we all need to be able to laugh at our presentations, thinking about Johnny Cash playing in a Roman bath complex, as a way to share what I’m researching.

Goldsmith’s MMB Sleep Project

A friend is working on her MA thesis project. The masters program is part of the Music, Mind, and Brain Program at Goldsmiths College, University of London.

To participate you must:

  • Be over 18 years old
  • Not be taking any pharmaceutical sleep aids at the time of study
  • Must NOT share a bed more than 2x weekly

All Individuals agree to participate for 15 days: composed of two 7 day sessions split by a one day break.  Participants will be given a password upon completion of an initial survey.  This will open your first session.  All instructions will be provided for you.

Space and Sound

DSC_0185I finished a first draft of my chapter on internal acoustics (see my previous posts herehere here) and I have started to redraft and clean up the chapter. I struggled during the writing process to come up with a way to layout the various approaches and analyses that I used in the chapter. The challenge has been (and likely will continue to be) bringing together spatial theory and sound studies. The two terms, space and sound, are not easily defined and stand at the centre of my project. At the suggestion of my supervisor, I turned to a couple of chapters/articles discussing the ‘spatial turn’ to see if they could provide a way to mentally map sounds and sound studies. After some failed attempts, and a number of box switching, I started to see the possibility in mapping sounds onto understandings of space. David Harvey, in Space as a Keyword, offers a 3-by-3 matrix of spatial modalities (drawing on Lefebvre’s tripartite understanding of space and adding his own categories of absolute, relative and relational space). The various sound and acoustic analyses fit nicely with the spatial modalities.

From David Harvey (2006) Space as a Keyword
From David Harvey (2006) Space as a Keyword

In one corner, the absolute space – material space reflects the acoustic measures of physical remains (Absorption Coefficients, RT60 etc.). While in the opposite corner, relational space – spaces of representation corresponds with fantastical and supernatural sounds, mostly coming from literary evidence. The result is rough mental map of the potential relations between spatial theory and sound studies. I am sure in a couple of weeks I will have rearranged the boxes two or three times but, for the time being it works. The chart also offers a glimpse at the various types of evidence that can be used to describe the auditory culture of the ancient world. There is a conference coming up next April addressing this topic and I will be submitting an abstract this week. My project focuses primarily on the material space column, although its helpful to think about some of the other projects I have heard about in relation to there placement on the chart. So some of the literary sound projects will deal more with the representations of space columns or aspects of relative or relational space. I think I will come back to this chart throughout my project to help me think through the various arguments, theories and forms of evidence that help me understand the production of space and sounds.

Conference Round-Up and Sensory Studies in Antiquity

DSC_0141

Well, last week was busy and exciting all at the same time. I have been co-organising a conference on movement and sensory experience of religious groups or in religious terms. The conference was all day last Friday, 12 June 2015, and was drew a variety of people from the US, Europe and the UK. It was a great day of fascinating papers and good networking.

We organised the day around panels of 2 or 3 20 min. papers, followed by a 10 min. response from an invited respondent. Since we grouped the panels by themes the time periods and geographical locations could vary drastically from paper to paper. To help facilitate discussion, not only with the panelists but between all in the room, the respondents offered thoughts, criticisms and questions for everyone to explore in the discussion time. The respondent all had insightful and engaging responses that fostered great discussion. I was glad to be apart of the conference and made many new colleagues in the field of Sensory Studies.

Following the conference, and coming out of some of the discussion, we set up Sensory Studies in Antiquity. The site is for those interested and working in the field and will have events and resources posted as they arise. They sight is not limited to the listed authors but open for researchers in the field. If you are interested in participating on the site, as an author, send an email to info@sensorystudiesinantquity.com. Authors will be listed on the site and can write posts about upcoming events or offer ideas for discussion on the blog. We hope that the site will provide a space for the growing, and quite diverse, community of scholars and students researching in the field of sensory studies in the ancient world. You can also follow Sensory Studies in Antiquity on Twitter for updates.