The mathematical number of the golden ratio has long fascinated mathematicians, archaeologists, biologists, architects, engineers, historians, musicians and scholars. Until now, though, there have been only assertions about whether the ancient Greeks employed this ratio in their architecture. To determine whether evidence may have been overlooked, I examined the measurements of 15 temples, 18 monumental tombs, 8 sarcophagi and 58 grave stelae from the fifth century BC to the second century AD. The result is clear: the golden ratio was totally absent from Greek architecture of the classical fifth century BC, and only very rarely employed in the third and the second centuries BC. Consequently, four rare and therefore valuable examples of golden-ratio proportions were identified through this research in a tower, an altar, a tomb and a grave stele. This is the first time that clear evidence has been presented for golden-ratio application in constructions of ancient Greece.

Past and present cultures perceive their natural landscape as an integral and vital component of their complex worlds, while particular landscape features and associated monuments built in selected locales become sacred and revered through stories, legends and rituals embedded in mundane and ceremonial events. The hyper-arid Har Tzuriaz area in the southern Negev, Israel, offers a case study of culture-geographic continuities over a chronologically cumulative archaeological sequence. The large set of well-preserved structures located adjacent to water sources, a massive escarpment and a major desert crossroads includes campsites, cult sites, rock-art sites, cairn fields and one desert kite (a large game trap). Cultural continuities and change can be traced from the sixth millennium bce through recent times, reflecting a dynamic system of meanings and interpretations of both the natural and the built landscape within one particular sacred area in the desert. These phenomena are exemplified in archaeological analyses of an open-air shrine, burial cairns, an isolated desert kite and a precise engraving of that kite dated 5000 years later, all in the general context of a dense concentration of surveyed sites.

Iron Age saunas, unique to the Castro Culture of northwestern Iberia, have puzzled archaeologists since the nineteenth century. Initially interpreted as kilns, crematoriums, or ovens, their function has since been established as bathing structures; however, the social significance of these saunas has yet to be firmly established. This study provides a new approach to understanding the ways in which Castro communities utilized specialized buildings to serve specific needs related to ritual cleansing and protection. Through an analysis of their placement, structure and decoration, I argue that these buildings functioned to purify and protect people of Castro communities from spiritual and physical danger. Members of Castro society inhabited a world buffeted by the shifting political and economic powers of the Iron Age. The bath structures under study, covered in apotropaic symbols, functioned in liminal spaces to cleanse and prepare Castro people for the dangers that awaited them beyond the walls of their communities and neutralized any potential spiritual contamination they may have acquired upon their return.

The stone of Saint-Samson is a Neolithic stele of 70 tons and 10 m of probable length. Its intriguing leaning position and its very regular morphology have aroused curiosity since medieval times. Three of its four faces—oriented towards the cardinal points—display engravings that were discovered in the 1970s. Now, a new recording protocol has combined 2D techniques for emphasizing the contrast of the engravings (oblique rotating lights) and 3D methods for restoring the volumes of the support (photogrammetry, structured-light scanner). The results obtained have made it possible to implement the first structural analysis of the stone. The north and west faces show an opposition between domestic (cattle, goats) and wild animals (suidae, cervidae, birds, cetaceans), depicted confronted and with their horns or tusks clearly visible. The south face was reserved for the human figure and for iconic artefacts (polished axe, throwing stick, ring disk, steering oar). The four faces have in common the presence of boats. The relationship linking the monument to waterways and the sea is approached by analysing both local legends and the phenomenon of the tidal wave.

I'm standing in front of a ‘painting’ by Niki de Saint Phalle called ‘Green Sky’. It happens that I'm standing in front of it in Tokyo where the intense nihon-spectral activity on my eu-retina might indeed make the sky green.

The 1000-year Neolithic occupation of An Son in southern Vietnam consists of ceramics that belong to a tradition that was potentially ancestral to those in many other regions of mainland Southeast Asia. The forms, dimensions, modes of decoration and fabrics of the An Son ceramics throughout the site's occupation have been studied in detail. The morphological dimensions were analysed with coefficient of variation (CV) calculations and the fabrics were characterized using scanning electron microscopy with energy dispersive spectrometry (SEM-EDX), in conjunction with statistical applications such as principal components analysis (PCA), cluster analysis and canonical variate analysis (CVA). The results suggest that a coherent method of manufacture and a mental template was applied in the manufacture of each major rim form that existed throughout the occupation of An Son. These vessel forms had a continuous evolution with evidence for conservatism in the shape and raw materials, while innovation and variation was observed in the decorative variables. The established mental templates indicate that the organization of ceramic production at An Son was linked to tradition and function in the community.

Space and gender have been two of the ‘buzz words’ in archaeology over the last few years; and quite rightly so, since they identify two of the most crucial aspects of human experience. As we move around buildings today, we are all well aware of norms and restrictions — public spaces and doors marked ‘private’, lounges and bedrooms, stairways and corridors. We negotiate and respect these according to customs and habits learned mainly in childhood. What is true of our own society is true of every other society, past and present, and one of the challenges — not to say obligations — facing archaeologists is to gain some understanding of these spatial mores, even when presented with little more than a ground plan.

In Gilchrist's case-study of medieval English nunneries, the evidence is rather more substantial. Not only has some of the fabric survived — both of churches and their associated buildings — but there is a rich body of textual information about the nunneries, the nuns who inhabited them, and the Christian symbolism and belief which underlay the whole institution.

What better place to study gender and its material expression than in such a uniquely female institution as the medieval nunnery? Fezv would deny that archaeology can play a powerful role in helping us to understand these religious communities — enabling us to see beyond the confines of written records. The application of particular theoretical approaches, however, is somewhat more contentious. Just how well do they fit such a body of evidence? And on a subject where we already have a great deal of textual evidence, can study of the material remains — in layout of buildings, evidence of their use, and iconography — truly reveal new levels of meaning? In sum, how successful is this new analysis?

These are among the key issues which are discussed in the following pages. As usual, we begin this Review Feature with an introduction by the author herself, Roberta Gilchrist. Then follow four contrasting reactions, from archaeologists and historians, rounded off by Gilchrist's reply. Whatever our assessment, the interplay of gender and space has profound and far-reaching significance, and raises issues that no serious historical archaeologist — or indeed prehistorian — can afford to ignore.

Here I evaluate Andean concepts understood from the Quechua and Aymara languages to test their applicability to Moche archaeology—a region where the languages once spoken are now extinct. By focusing on geographical features common to the highlands and the coast (mountains and rivers) and archaeological evidence, I look at broad patterns of Moche material culture and consider how these relate to canal-fed irrigation systems, ceramic spatial patterning and fractaline socio-political organization documented in the colonial-era Chicama Valley. I then present a case study from Licapa II in the Chicama Valley to show that the physical components of the site's layout and the spatial patterns of artifact distribution relate to temporal and socio-political divisions that have their roots in long-standing ideas in Andean thought. Overall, this study shows that through careful evaluation some Quechua and Aymara concepts, namely tinku—or two parts coming together to make a whole—is relevant to the Moche worldview. This concept is manifest through canals uniting and dividing physical space, both socio-politically and temporally. Liquids running through the canals ensure the well-being and energetic flow of Moche society.