The reconstruction and representation of ancient artifacts and scenes through illustration is a cornerstone in the communication of archaeological findings. Sketches of the past have transformed over time, incorporating broader technological changes, from photography to the digital tools that have become prevalent through the twenty-first century. Most recently, developments in generative artificial intelligence (AI) promise to reshape the way we represent the past to professional and public audiences. This article shows how to use an accessible and inexpensive artificial intelligence platform to generate complex archaeological illustrations. As a case study, we create multiple scenes representing competing hypotheses about Neanderthal behavior. Using the images to visually communicate alternative hypotheses, we demonstrate how archaeological illustration using artificial intelligence promises to democratize the production of visual representations of the past.

In the United States, deaccessioning is a poorly understood collections management tool. Archaeologists often view deaccessioning with what Robert Sonderman called “primal fear,” and this fear has caused them to overlook the opportunities that deaccessioned artifacts and collections may provide in the area of public archaeology education. Although deaccessioning without checks and balances can be problematic, when done properly and ethically, it offers previously untapped resources to the creation of educational programming, such as teaching trunk programs. This article discusses the process of deaccessioning and suggests that deaccessioned artifacts may be useful as content for teaching trunk programs. We discuss a case study from our own institution, where we implemented a trunk program in 2016 that was largely stocked with material from a deaccession we had performed the previous year. We also offer suggestions for anyone wishing to implement a similar program.

Formal archaeological publication is unimaginative in its use of images, and often the images used do not best serve the text. The result is that text and image poorly relate. But graphic formats that establish an interrelationship between text and image can be used to create new layers of richness. One such example is the use of comics. In order to illustrate how the visualization principles of comics can be used to re-shape formal archaeological publication, the author presents an adaptation of the first three pages of “Ceramics and Polity” by Michael Whalen and Paul Minnis, originally published in American Antiquity. The use of similar visualization principles opens up the possibility of new kinds of professional, interdisciplinary, and peer-to-peer narratives. The article is in the form of a 10-page comic.

For over 40 years, some archaeologists have labored under a distorted interpretation of the 50-year rule in which anything more than 50 years of age becomes “archaeological” and therefore must be recorded and evaluated for eligibility to the National Register of Historic Places. A reexamination of federal law shows that this is a mistaken interpretation. Data from the Intermountain Antiquities Computer System indicates that, if this practice continues, the number of featureless historical sites requiring documentation in the West will greatly increase at a large expense to the public and that most of these costs will be associated with sites not considered significant in American history, architecture, archaeology, engineering, or culture. Solutions are presented that will give archaeologists greater flexibility in recording material culture more than 50 years of age, allowing us to redirect our efforts to resources of greater interest while making the practice of archaeology more defensible to the public. These problems are symptomatic of a larger issue that relates to how cultural remains from the latter part of the twentieth century and beyond will be valued. The discipline of archaeology must begin candid conversations about the relative importance of such recent material culture and its management implications.

The articles in this issue present bioarchaeological case studies from across the globe, including North and Central America, East Asia, Europe, and the Near East. Some bioarchaeology projects are new and others are decades old, but common challenges emerge as researchers apply conservation standards to real situations in the field: a lack of training or resources for long-term curation of human remains, the lag between excavation and analysis of remains, and environmental challenges that include melting permafrost, tropical storms, and a variety of pests such as molds, fungi, bats, snakes, and insects. The studies also address ethical considerations about the use of digital images of human remains, molecular and isotopic methods that require the destruction of human tissue samples, the ability of fast-paced cultural resource management (CRM) projects to address the needs of descendant communities, and the responsibility that we have to the people we study. Techniques for addressing these challenges include new computer programs, more advanced photographic software, and research on the effects of conservation techniques that provide new “standards” for bioarchaeologists. We highlight the importance of each contribution and discuss the future of conservation in bioarchaeology.

In Mexico, archaeological heritage belongs to all members of society, according to section XXV of Article 73 of the Mexican Constitution and Article 27 of the federal law on monuments and archaeological sites. The Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia (INAH) was founded in 1939 as a federal government agency for the research, protection, and dissemination of archaeological heritage. Although this heritage belongs to all, stringent rules and procedures create an unequal relationship between career professionals and the diverse communities interested in the past (i.e., collectors, local museums, descendant communities). It is long due to begin practicing an inclusive archaeology that considers all the various knowledge systems (i.e., academic, technical, local, and traditional) of the communities interested in the past. Here, we describe case studies from Sonora, Mexico, to propose the implementation of several far-reaching activities with artifact collectors, Indigenous communities, researchers, archaeologists, and INAH Sonora authorities. Our pilot proposal needs to be implemented in other areas of Mexico that continue to prioritize archaeological narratives over other narratives about our past.

In much of the Western world, collaborative research undertaken by settler archaeologists readily lends itself, at least in part, to a continuation of the colonial project. Yet, against this backdrop, Australia's First Nations’ peoples continue to work with researchers and to drive systemic change in research practice. Community-engaged archaeology, defined here as codeveloped studies of ancestral places (following Schaepe et al. 2017), is directed to improving relationships between Indigenous peoples and archaeologists. Even so, the practice of archaeology with and for nonsettler communities remains underdeveloped with regard to institutional priorities and funding agency bureaucracies. Here, we (Mirarr Traditional Owners, Mirarr employees, and settler archaeologist researchers) reflect on these issues as part of our ongoing research on the ochres and bim (rock art) of the well-known Madjedbebe rockshelter in the Alligator Rivers region, Northern Territory, Australia.

This article presents a case study of the process of developing and implementing mitigation as the result of adverse effects to cultural resources from the drawdown of Lake Cumberland, Kentucky. Signs of a dam failure in early 2007 triggered the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers (Corps) to implement the emergency drawdown. While the drawdown prevented a life safety catastrophe, it created a new erosion zone and exposed archaeological sites to looters. When it became clear that conventional Section 106 procedures to identify and evaluate these endangered archaeological resources were not an option, alternative and creative mitigation became a necessary approach for the Corps to meet its obligations under the National Historic Preservation Act. This article discusses the creative brainstorming among the Corps, Kentucky state historic preservation officer, and tribes that led to three alternative mitigation measures aimed at educational outreach, raising public awareness, and staff training. Furthermore, the article identifies challenges encountered during the implementation of the mitigation measures. Through the presentation of our mitigation journey, we share some of our lessons learned to improve awareness of the challenges and successes one may encounter during the execution of such alternative measures.

I discuss my experiences using archaeology and anthropology to teach college-level students how to be interdisciplinary thinkers and doers. Although the number of students who complete archaeology and anthropology degrees is relatively small in the United States and worldwide, programs and courses in such fields offer any student important opportunities in active, interdisciplinary learning that contribute to effective problem-solving using multiple lines of information. Courses and learning activities can question stereotypes depicting archaeology as a “useless” discipline (Arendt 2013:79), and they can prepare students to engage in and adapt to countless personal and professional situations while also learning about archaeology, its benefits, and its potential for relationships with similar and different fields. Therefore, the active learning of multimethod, interdisciplinary archaeology can prepare college-level students to address change and uncertainty in their homes, communities, and professions.

Over the past few years our body politic has become increasingly polarized: Republicans versus Democrats, conservatives versus liberals. That polarization filters down to governmental actions, policies, and decisions, evidenced in disagreements over regulation versus deregulation and fossil fuels versus renewable energy. Such polarization—whether legislative, administrative, or judicial and whether at the federal, state, or tribal level—can and does impact the management of our archaeological resources and the way cultural resource management is practiced in the United States. Given that most archaeologists in the United States are employed in cultural resource management, these actions affect their employment. Consequently, it is more critical than ever that archaeologists become cultural resource management and historic preservation advocates. This article discusses the whys and hows of preservation advocacy. Active, science-based advocacy by preservationists can engage governmental decision-makers to give due consideration to cultural resources and their management when making decisions or drafting and voting on legislation. Although the discussion focuses on advocacy at the federal level, the observations and suggestions are applicable at the state and local level.

In the province of Ontario, Canada, it is estimated that 80% of archaeological sites are Indigenous, yet there are very few Indigenous archaeologists involved in management and decision-making about Indigenous heritage. Systemic barriers, particularly around licensing and regulations for curatorial facilities, continue to prevent Indigenous people from directly managing and protecting their own cultural heritage. Recognizing that Indigenous communities in northeastern Ontario have had little exposure or opportunity to learn about archaeology, for several years we have been involved in educational programs to train Indigenous youth, staff in First Nations government offices, and others. We illustrate with two examples: the monitor training program undertaken in northeastern Ontario and a project to catalog artifacts from the legacy collection from the La Cloche site.

A major problem in collections management is the lack of training about collections in all facets of archaeology. Ignorance about both ethical obligations and practical steps associated with collections is arguably the leading contributor to the ongoing curation crisis. This work summarizes shortcomings in collections training in academia and in cultural resource management, and it proceeds to identify some steps that can be taken to provide training for students and professional archaeologists. The overriding argument is that more training in all aspects of collections is absolutely essential to addressing and beginning to mitigate the overwhelming problems the discipline faces in caring for archaeological collections.

The Office of the Wyoming State Archaeologist has as one of its main objectives to actively engage the population of Wyoming in archaeological stewardship. To achieve this goal, in the past five years, we have launched the youth-oriented Summer Ventures program and the adult-oriented Wyoming Avocational Archaeology Training Program. Both programs were inspired by existing programs in other parts of the country and were launched following research and target audience surveys on how to best adapt them to Wyoming. Despite this preliminary research, our in-field experiences over the past few years have shown some patterns that are causing us to rethink both programs. This article discusses these initial in-field testing years, the issues we have encountered, and the ways we are redesigning both programs to better target the appropriate audiences in light of the different lifestyles of populations, particularly those of youths, in a rural state.

This article discusses the way development-led archaeology in the Netherlands disseminates archaeological knowledge to and with the public using the way archaeological projects were designed in Dalfsen (Netherlands) as a case study. In the early days of contract archaeology, which in the Netherlands was designed after the Valetta Convention, archaeologists were primarily concerned with the financial and planning aspects of projects, and there was little room for public archaeology. We suggest that this caused archaeologists to forget to involve the public in their projects. In time, it became almost impossible to rectify this mistake because archaeological contractors became extremely bureaucratic. In the case of Dalfsen, a spectacular project was needed to change this situation. The project, and especially its media value, inspired the municipality to invest in community archaeology and make choices that an archaeologist would not primarily be concerned with. Thus, we discuss the effects of these choices and archaeologists’ actions in this process. We conclude that it is important for archaeologists to act as facilitators because it improves the success rate of community archaeology projects.

The skeletal remains of several Native Americans were recovered in an eroded state from a creek bank in northeastern New Mexico. Subsequently stored in a nearby museum, the remains became lost for almost 36 years. In a recent effort to repatriate the remains, it was necessary to fit them into a cultural chronology in order to determine the appropriate tribe(s) for consultation pursuant to the Native American Grave Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA). Because the remains were found in an eroded context with no artifacts or funerary objects, their age was unknown. Having been asked to avoid destructive dating methods such as radiocarbon dating, the authors used Optically Stimulated Luminescence (OSL) to date the sediments embedded in the cranium. The OSL analyses yielded reliable dates between A.D. 1415 and A.D. 1495. Accordingly, we conclude that the remains were interred somewhat earlier than A.D. 1415, but no later than A.D. 1495. We believe the remains are from individuals ancestral to the Ute Mouache Band, which is now being contacted for repatriation efforts. Not only do our methods contribute to the immediate repatriation efforts, they provide archaeologists with a versatile, non-destructive, numerical dating method that can be used in many burial contexts.

Despite advocacy of landscape approaches in cultural resource management (CRM) and critiques of the site concept, CRM data collection methods in the western United States continue to focus on individual archaeological sites as units of observation, analysis, and management. The transect-recording unit (TRU) method strikes a balance between conventional site-based recording methods and site-less survey approaches by dividing survey space into a grid of uniformly sized cells for recording all cultural manifestations observed across a survey area. TRU survey generates site boundaries required by CRM regulations while retaining a fine-grained spatial framework for landscape-level research and management. This article discusses the technical requirements of the TRU system and its potential for improving landscape-level research and management. Advances in digital recording technologies and analysis techniques render the method efficient and effective in identifying cultural resource distributions and characteristics otherwise obscured by conventional approaches. The research and management potential of the TRU system is illustrated through identification and interpretation of precontact foot trails in New Mexico's Tularosa Basin. These trails are essentially invisible during pedestrian survey but are readily identifiable as linear patterns using aggregated landscape-scale TRU survey data from multiple survey projects, providing novel insight into precontact routes of movement and exchange.

Archaeogaming is an area of increasing interest within archaeology. As archaeogaming's theory and practice are being fleshed out, it is worth considering if there are parallels to traditional archaeological methods within the study of video games. Here, we examine one such possibility: is there an archaeogaming equivalent to experimental archaeology? As a case study, we explore the system used for the mid-1980s development of an unreleased video game prototype for the game company Activision. Through examining this development system, whose use would be otherwise invisible in the finished software artifact, we demonstrate how we have both reconstructed a seemingly lost piece of the system virtually and used this reconstruction for experiments. The methodology we describe can be applied to digital artifacts within contemporary archaeology beyond the scope of video games, and it illustrates some key differences between studying physical and digital artifacts.

The Public Archaeology Facility's (PAF) Community Archaeology Program (CAP) at Binghamton University began 25 years ago in response to intense community interest in participating in archaeology. Although non-archaeologists have unlimited access to programming and social media about archaeology, there is more limited access to professionally supervised opportunities. PAF developed CAP to provide non-archaeologists with the opportunity to participate in highly supervised archaeological research projects to share in the process of discovery at the “trowel's edge.” CAP recognizes the challenges and critiques of community programs and mitigates these by creating a climate of ethical practice. Our goal is to educate individuals about the presence of a rich and fascinating past in their own communities and create the sweat equity that can result in advocates for preservation. We operate under the principles that the heritage story embedded in an artifact is worthy of our respect and protection, and that an educated public is more likely to support the preservation of this heritage. Making a connection to people through artifacts builds not only a deeper understanding of the past but also an empathy for preservation. In this article, we introduce the program and reflect on the 25-year history of CAP and future directions.

Our professional understanding of the archaeological record is informed through academic research interest, the nature (tensions of time/money/location) of cultural resource management, and the ability of archaeologists to fully access diverse forms of data potentially available to them. Knowledge of eastern Colorado is poorly known, given that 40% of the state is publicly owned (federal and state) and most professional work occurs on land administered by federal agencies in western Colorado. Given this research disparity, we argue that professional archaeologists in eastern Colorado would certainly benefit from expanding their research networks to include the efforts of avocational archaeologists. Our article describes how artifact collectors have searched eastern Colorado for the past 100 years; although their methods differ from professional approaches, their cumulative efforts provide a nuanced read of the archaeological record. Differences relate to increased time spent on sites, access to a variety of landforms, and repeated visits over the long term. We present a case study on playa lake archaeology to emphasize these concepts and provide suggestions as to how archaeologists can create better partnerships to unlock potentially novel perspectives of the archaeological record.

There is much discussion in archaeological circles about challenges associated with the millions of artifacts generated by fieldwork. Most of these discussions are limited to issues within the profession, such as care of collections, accessibility for research, orphaned collections, and shortcomings in training on collections awareness. An underrecognized third party in these discussions is the public. Despite a broadly held ethos of the importance of archaeology for all, archaeologists have paid comparatively little attention to sharing/exposing collections (and the outcomes of excavations) with audiences outside of the profession. This research discusses negative ramifications of not sharing collections with broader audiences and then presents some options for broadening this much-needed engagement through developing more public outreach efforts, providing alternative uses of collections, collaborating with private collectors, and using digital technology to increase access to collections.