Imaged in Absence is a four-channel video installation, which emerged through a process of cutting, moulding, modelling, 3D scanning, and animation, where material and historical processes intersect within a virtual space. Rather than offering convergences of material, cultural, and technological histories as a fixed point, this work opens up possibilities for remembering through indeterminate and fragmented data-scapes. Imaged in Absence presents an ambiguous terrain, where material histories are fragmented, narratives are dislocated, and remembering is partial.

Since 1995 a collection of thirteen water wells from the Linearbandkeramik (LBK) of the Early Neolithic have been discovered during archaeological excavations in Saxony, Germany. Timber beams reinforced the walls of the wells, creating vertical tunnels reaching down into subterranean depths. The discovery of these structures rewrote local histories of carpentry, becoming the earliest known examples of joinery from Central Europe that are still in existence today. Due to reactions with air and water that cause wood to rot, timber constructions rarely survive for long. Sealed in an anaerobic environment, these wells were preserved underground for over 7,000 years, before their recent unearthing.

Imaged in Absence was developed following my participation in Ergersheimer Experimente in 2017, an experimental archaeology workshop held annually in the town of Ergersheim, Germany. Ergersheimer Experimente was initiated in response to the excavation of the wells, and the specific remnant tool marks evident in the wells’ timbers. Run by a team of local archaeologists, the workshop investigates woodworking techniques from the German Early Neolithic, exploring ways in which material histories can be rethought during embodied encounters with site. 

In a large oak plantation, embodied and material knowledges are restaged and reassembled through experiment. One afternoon I was given a short lesson on using a replica stone adze. Holding the timber handle, one hand above the other, I worked on an upright branch from one of the already felled oaks. Despite the cold, my hands felt hot. Blisters quickly appeared where my palms met my fingers, and in the nook between my left thumb and my hand. A good strike will sing out, like a metallic ‘ting,’ as the blade cuts through the timber fibres. Hitting at the wrong angle resulted in a dull thud. Vibrations from the adze reverberated back into my hands, causing a buzzing sensation that lasted into the night. After an hour or so the blisters on my palms started to bleed. Blood rubbed into the handle of the adze and stained the tiny indentations in the pale wood grain. The final threads of timber and bark held on for a long time before eventually giving way and falling to the ground. The break in this branch was followed by a string of material transformations flowing from the tool marks, embedded in the pieces of timber.

This project would not have been possible without the generosity and hospitality of countless people. Many thanks to the following individuals for their support: Bianca Hester, Mikala Dwyer, Harald Stäuble, Rengert Elburg, Thomas Reuter, Maria Cladders, Sabine Wolfram, Saskia Kretschmer, Frank Schell, Bernhard Muigg, Willy Tegel, Christoph Herbig, Wulf Hein, Jacqui Shelton, Laura Carthew, Kenzee Patterson, Clare Britton, Biljana Novakovic, Audrey Newton, Chris Sciuto, Vicki Gutierrez, Kate Beckingham, Kat Sawyer, Bridget Crone, Sam Nightingale, Alison Brookes, Andrew Keogh, Rebecca Dal Pra, Paul Gilders, Erin Keogh, and Clare Keogh. Thanks also to Landesamt für Archäologie Sachsen and Ergersheimer Experimente.