Landscapes of the Past: Creation of Persistent Placesin Hunter-gatherer Landscapes of Southwest Asia
and Japan
Lisa A. MAHER1
ABSTRACTThe archaeology of hunter-gatherers has much to tell us about how humans engaged with theworld around them in complex and knowledgeable ways throughout prehistory. The advent ofagriculture, often seen as a monolithic and monumentally new way of life, is used as a culturaland chronological marker for when humans began to have notable and lasting impacts on theenvironment. Some archaeologists suggest that the far-reaching and widespread eﬀects of farming
on local habitats, from landscape clearance to the domestication of plants and animals, shouldmark the beginning of the Anthropocene. Here, I explore some of the ways that we can approachand detect human-environment dynamics among prehistoric hunter-gatherers, using case studies
from Southwest Asia and Japan, to explore the transformation of landscapes into social places thata) represent an early expression of behaviors thought to be novel to or typify a ‘Neolithic way oflife’ and b) have remained detectable in the archaeological record for the last 20 000 years. Theselandscape practices highlight that the focus on ‘Neolithization’ is somewhat misleading as they wereenacted within a hunter-gatherer world and worldview.
KEYWORDS: geoarchaeology, landscape, Epipalaeolithic, Jomon, hunter-gatherer archaeology

1.

Introduction

The archaeology of hunter-gatherers has much to tell us about how humans engaged withthe world around them in complex and knowledgeable ways throughout prehistory. The
advent of agriculture, often seen as a monolithic and monumental new way of life, isused as a cultural and chronological marker for when humans began to have notable andlasting impacts on the environment. Some archaeologists suggest that the far-reaching
and widespread effects of farming on local habitats, from landscape clearance to thedomestication of plants and animals, should mark the beginning of the Anthropocene (e.g.,Smith & Zeder 2013). Here, I explore some of the ways that we can approach and detecthuman-environment dynamics among prehistoric hunter-gatherers, using case studies fromSouthwest Asia and Japan, to explore the transformation of landscapes into social places
that a) represent an early expression of hunter-gatherer behaviors thought to be novel to1 Department of Anthropology, University of California, Berkeley, 232 Anthropology and Art Practice

Building, Berkeley CA 94720–3710 USA (maher@berkeley.edu)
Category: Original Article Received: 19 December 2020; Accepted: 6 March 2021
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Lisa A. MAHER

or typify a ‘Neolithic way of life’ and b) have remained detectable in the archaeologicalrecord for the last 20 000 years. These landscape practices highlight that the focus on‘Neolithization’ is somewhat misleading as they were enacted within a hunter-gatherer
world and worldview (see also Veth et al. 2008). The knowledgeable engagements withlandscape evidenced in the Epipalaeolithic of Southwest Asia—with a regional focus on
identifying the origins of agriculture and sedentism—and the Jomon of Japan—with aregional focus on identifying evidence for hunter-gatherer complexity—emphasizes thevalue of considering hunter-gatherer actions and lifeways without any comparison to‘impending’ Neolithization.
Ethnographic studies of hunter-gatherer societies reveal a richness of lifeways thatweave together interrelated aspects of society, economy, technology and symbolism. Yet,
reconstruction of the lifeways of prehistoric hunter-gatherers often involves working froma highly fragmented and only partially preserved archaeological record. Here, I assess ourcurrent understandings of prehistoric landscapes, as more than mere adaptations to a pastenvironment, with a speciﬁc focus on two case studies from Jordan and Japan (Figure 1)
employing a combination of micro- and macro-scale datasets. Micromorphology has provenparticularly useful for identifying the signatures of particular activities, reconstructing
the structured use of space, and, importantly, to help resolve what is knowable andwhat is not in the archaeological record (Maher 2019; Shahack-Gross 2017; Goldberg
and Berna 2010). Micromorphology is a microscale technique employed to analyze
anthropogenic (and non-anthropogenic) deposits, with the aim of linking the formation of
speciﬁc residues to speciﬁc human activities preserved in the archaeological record (seeFigure 1. Google Earth images of the Southern Levant (left) showing the location of Kharaneh IV
in eastern Jordan, and northern Japan (right) showing the location of Goshizawa Matsumori in the
Aomori Prefecture.
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Maher 2019, and references therein). Examination of these residues for the information
they contain on human behaviors and the natural and cultural processes involved in thedeposition, modiﬁcation, and destruction of archaeological deposits, including taphonomy
and site-formation processes, provides valuable insights into intentional and unintentional
prehistoric activities.
At Epipalaeolithic (c. 23–11.5 kya) Kharaneh IV, Jordan, and Jomon (c. 16–2.5 kya)
Goshizawa Matsumori No. 4, Japan, microscale analysis of on-site deposits sheds insights
into the construction of place and structured use of space at these substantial huntergatherer villages. Pairing these on-site datasets with landscape-scale reconstructions ofland use highlights the diversity of landscape practices and food diversity enacted by bothgroups. Repeated and prolonged occupation of Kharaneh IV—as one of many sites dotting
the larger Epipalaeolithic landscape—help us to conceptualize hunter-gatherer aggregationand persistence and impact on the landscape. In Southwest Asia, aggregation sites standout as places of dwelling and interaction used by multiple groups and persisting on thelandscape for generations (Maher & Conkey 2019). Although Epipalaeolithic aggregationsites remain little explored1), their potential to mark increases in social interaction andsymbolic practices have been noted (Maher 2019; Maher & Conkey 2019). Similarly,
Goshizawa Matsumori No. 4 typiﬁes the well-established Jomon pattern of building semisedentary residential bases (or, as I would suggest, persistent places) supported by a wide
diversity of plant (including nut) and animal resources. In other words, we see a ‘settlingin’ to the site, making it a ‘place’ in the landscape ﬁlled with collective social meaning, andmodifying this place for a variety of subsistence-based and social purposes.

2. Approaches to Landscape & Hunter-Gatherer Place-Making
In this paper, the term landscape incorporates this holistic approach to spaces and places
and includes the notion that culturally and socially contingent actions and practices leave
traces or residues in the physical environment. The landscape is, as Carole Crumley (1994)
suggests, an array of lived experiences made manifest. The tangible expression of theseexperiences as a range of anthropogenic deposits makes them detectible to archaeologists
and emphasizes the importance of geoarchaeological methods of detection and analysis.
Landscapes are cumulative but never complete—they preserve traces of activities pastand present, but usually these traces represent windows or snapshots into these activities,
perhaps even accumulations of human activity and modification, or taskscapes (Ingold
1993). As a result, we must come up with ways to deal with the fact that we will only
1) This is in large part a result of their rarity and the incredibly time-consuming scale of research needed to excavate andanalyze the material from these sites using standard high-resolution Palaeolithic excavation techniques.

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ever be able to reconstruct parts of these landscapes, best analysed by combining multiple
methods and best interpreted through multiple lines of evidence and multiple social
narratives or lenses. These interpretations can change with new data, new ways to see olddata, and new methods to recover and analyze data. Understanding patterns of movement,
distributions of material culture, uses of plant and animal and inanimate materials provide
clues into the ways in which landscape features are transformed into meaningful places.
As such, we could view material traces of landscapes, and the objects they contain, more
broadly, as knowledges, or ﬂows of knowledge, communicated from one generation to thenext (Rockman 2013; McBryde 2000). The question becomes how to do this within thecontext of the archaeological record of prehistoric hunter-gatherers.
Landscapes have spatial and temporal dimensions, but changes are ongoing, fragmented,
and accretionary, and are they not necessarily linear or progressive. Landscapes are
created and experienced through shared knowledge, practices and memory and, as such,they are culturally constituted. In sum, “landscapes emerge as investments in location
with meanings that link people, places and things together. The seemingly intangible
aspects of landscape are made tangible—are manifested—through the material culture
and geoarchaeological contexts left as traces in the archaeological record of these social
relationships” (Maher 2019, pp. 1001–1002). Geoarchaeological approaches are thus wellsuited to tackle these human-landscape dynamics, recognizing the social construction oflandscape while also upholding the value of tracing these relationships in the physicalworld through the integration of archaeological and palaeoenvironmental records (Jusseret
2010; Walsh 2004, 2008; Wilson 2011; Butzer 2008; Hill 2005).

3. Hunter-Gatherer Place-Making: Persistent Places as a Window
into Prehistoric Landscapes
A place is any location that is structured and given meaning through human experience(s),at both individual and group levels. Places are created through repeated human action andmade tangible in the landscape by material culture. As places are both physical and sociallyconstructed spaces, one can unravel the ‘life history of a place’ (Ashmore 2002) just as
we do for the life history, biography or itinerary of a stone tool, a pot, or a house (Hendon
2009; Joyce 2015; Hoskins 1998; Appadurai 1988; Kopytoﬀ 1986). Yet, the identiﬁcationof ‘places’ within a palaeolandscape is admittedly a challenging endeavor, and several
researchers have suggested the best way to do this is to look for persistent places (Schlanger
1992; Shaw et al. 2016), or what M. Conkey refers to as ‘places of many generations’(Conkey et al. 2003). These are sites that document repeated re-use and re-visitation overlong, inter-generational, periods of time. While these are certainly not the only types oflandscape ‘places,’ they are more obtrusive and, as their name suggests, persistent or© Japanese Archaeological Association

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durable in the landscape, oﬀering the opportunity for examining the longue durée of humanbehavior here. Ideally, as suggested above, one would integrate knowledge about these
persistent places with the landscape spaces in between, also presumably imbued with social
meaning, but that is beyond the scope of this paper.
According to Schlanger (1992), persistent places feature prolonged and repeated use,
structured use of space, and strategic use of location and local resources for particular
activities. This provides archaeologists with a basis for reconstructing the life historyof these places through high-resolution examination of anthropogenic deposits and thematerial culture they contain (Maher 2019). As sites with long, well-stratiﬁed sequences ofoccupation, these persistent places (including aggregation sites) are key to reconstructing
prehistoric hunter-gatherer activities as they result from the repeated accumulation ofmaterial culture and, thus, document spatial and temporal patterns of change that we
commonly label as traditions, industries and techno-complexes (Maher 2019; Shaw et al.
2016). Place-making, thus, involves persistent and active maintenance of a landscape. One
could even argue that the very use of these places, especially when compounded over time,
is a form of landscape modiﬁcation where the physical environment is ‘built’ or structured
and becomes culturally meaningful. Further, since landscapes change in response to human(and other) actions, the fact that prehistoric groups create ﬁxed or ‘persistent’ places in achanging landscape is what allows us to explore culturally constructed landscapes in deeptime and recreate a life history of place.

Reconstructing a Life History of Place Through Micromorphology

Geoarchaeology is multi-scalar and particularly well-suited to reconstructing landscapesthat are cumulative, yet fragmentary, and sites that preserve evidences of human activities,
yet are also perpetually subjected to a variety of human and non-human site formation
processes (Maher 2017). Occupation deposits at archaeological sites themselves can beseen as artifacts that capture evidence of human activity. Micromorphology is a contextual
technique, where blocks of anthropogenic sediment are removed in situ, preparedinto thin sections, and examined under varying levels of magnification and polarized
microscope in order to identify and reconstruct traces of human activity that make up the
microstratigraphic record of anthropogenic deposits (Courty et al. 1989; Goldberg andAldeias 2016; Karkanas and Goldberg 2008; Macphail & Goldberg 2018; Friesem 2016;
Maher 2017; Shahack-Gross 2017). We can tease out of these anthropogenic traces of thepractices of everyday life, providing evidence for activities related to construction, foodpreparation, discard or waste disposal patterns, combustion features, and diﬀerentiating
high- and low-traffic areas such as those related to trampling (e.g., streets, floors,pathways between sites), sleeping (e.g., bedding), or storage (Friesem 2016; Maher
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daily practices, especially amongst those societies whose activities leave few obtrusive
traces (e.g., hut ﬂoors, cooking areas), and to reconstruct past landscapes to understandthe complex and nuanced way people created, used and ‘lived-in’ places—itself a form oflandscape modiﬁcation.

4. Case Study 1: Place-Making in the Epipalaeolithic of Southwest
Asia—Kharaneh IV
The Epipalaeolithic period (23–11.5 kya) spans the last 10 000 years or so of the
Pleistocene. Archaeologically, Epipalaeolithic sites are identified by variations in
microlithic chipped stone tool production, alongside intensiﬁed uses of plants and animals,
elaborated art and burial practices, the appearance of architecture, and the establishmentof long-distance social networks (Maher, Richter & Stock 2012). A distinction is often
made between the Early and Middle phases of the Epipalaeolithic (c. 23–14.5 kya) and
Late Epipalaeolithic Natuﬁan (c. 14.5–11.5 kya), with the latter foreshadowing Neolithic
lifeways (Goring-Morris & Belfer-Cohen 2002, 2010; Bar-Yosef 1998). However, recent
work has shown these earlier sites to exhibit equally as complex relationships with plants
and animals, funerary traditions, and the creation of a built environment (Maher et al.
2021; Nadel 2000; Yaroshevich et al. 2016).
Perhaps the most-studied aspect of Epipalaeolithic behavior in Southwest Asia relates
to identifying cultural features through to indicate nascent Neolithization (e.g., Richter& Maher 2013; Maher, Richter & Stock 2012; Belfer-Cohen & Goring-Morris 2011;
Goring-Morris & Belfer-Cohen 2010, 2011). There are, indeed, several archaeologicalcorrelates of Neolithization, features traditionally used to deﬁne the process of becoming
Neolithic. These correlates are generally thought to be interrelated and thus models ofculture change focus on the sudden, late appearance of social complexity, sedentism andlarge-scale interaction networks at very end of Pleistocene linked strongly to changing
environments (Jones et al. 2019). These include: 1) The intensiﬁed use, management anddomestication of plants and animals accompanied by signiﬁcant changes in landscape use
and modiﬁcation (overgrazing), 2) Sedentism and the construction of a built environment
as seen through architecture, site organization and the construction of houses and villages
as homes and communities. These are generally represented in the archaeological record
as large and dense sites exhibiting a high diversity of material culture. 3) Increasing
evidence for elaborate art and symbolic behavior, usually in the form of decorative bone,shell, or wood, carved ﬁgurines or statuary, and elaborate mortuary practices and grave
goods. 4) Evidence for long-distance trade networks documented through the movementof artifacts (raw materials and ﬁnished products) across substantial distances as indicativeof social interaction. While this latter feature does not explicitly focus on the movement of© Japanese Archaeological Association

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knowledges, I would suggest this can also be documented as an aspect of social interaction
evident in the movement of objects and material expressions of these knowledges.
As I will discuss here, all of these features appear much earlier (and independently)
in the ‘world’ of hunter-gatherers (Figure 2). Notably, they also all feature landscapemodiﬁcation and transformation to varying degrees that are visible in the archaeologicalrecord. In addition, recent work suggests the picture is much more complex; these features
do not appear suddenly together at the beginning of the Neolithic—at least in Southwest
Asia, there is little evidence for a Neolithic “Revolution” that clearly marks peoplechanging from ‘being hunter-gatherers’ to ‘being farmers.’ There is no such thing as asingle deﬁning ‘moment’ in the processes of these transitions. In fact, when we examine

Figure 2. Schematic for the gradual and independent appearance of numerous features often
used to mark or deﬁne the Neolithic and thought to be archaeological correlates for Neolithization(adapted and modified from Finlayson 2013), spanning over the Epipalaeolithic and Neolithic
periods, and noted alongside major changes in regional climate regimes. Note that a) there is noclear correlation between changes in climate and identiﬁed changes in cultural periods, and b) thefeatures listed here each appear on their own timeline and with their own trajectory, with no clear‘package’ of Neolithic behaviors.
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each of these features, we see that they each have their own complex, independent
trajectory of development (Finlayson 2013; Finlayson & Makarewicz 2013; Finlayson& Warren 2017), none clearly correlate with environmental change (Maher et al. 2011),
and most appear prior to the appearance of Neolithic farmers, even plant domestication(Arranz-Otaegui et al. 2018; Ramsey et al. 2017). Instead, these features highlight thecomplicated and nuanced relationships linking hunter-gatherers and their landscapes (seealso Finlayson and Warren 2010; Finlayson & Warren 2017). If we want to understandtheir emergence, we must see their emergence as a long and windy path, with lots of stops
and starts, and one that was not linear or inevitable. And, importantly, these lifeways wereenacted within a hunter-gatherer world and worldview.
Kharaneh IV is a large Epipalaeolithic site located in the Azraq Basin of eastern Jordan(Figure 3). The Azraq Basin, a large drainage basin covering much of eastern Jordan,southern Syria and northern Saudi Arabia, is well-documented as a foci of hunter-gatherer
occupation during the Epipalaeolithic (Maher et al. In press, and references therein).
Surveys and excavations over the last several decades have documented hundreds of sites

Figure 3. Aerial drone-captured composite image of Kharaneh IV, with the Wadi Kharaneh
foregrounded. Note that the surface of the site is demarcated by a dense pavement of artifacts thathave preserved the fine-grained stratigraphy of occupation buried below. Inset is a map of theSouthern Levant showing the location of Kharaneh IV (starred) in the larger Azraq Basin (shaded).
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Figure 4. (A) Photograph of the Early Epipalaeolithic (Area B) hut structures prior to excavation,with the dashed lines delineating the boundaries of each hut structure (Photo from EFAP archive).
(B) Photograph of the West Section of Area B, excavated in 2008–2009, showing the well-preserved
stratigraphy of subsurface deposits at the site. Note the dark layer extending from center to theleft side of the section that represents the northernmost extent of the burnt superstructure of Hut
Structure 1. The three superimposed ﬂoors (discussed in text) are found immediately below thisdark, organic-rich layer.

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spanning the late Pleistocene and into the early Holocene. Notably, several of these sites
represent large aggregation sites and villages, occupied repeatedly and semi-permanently
by hunter-gatherers. While much of the basin is characterized as an arid, semi-desert
landscape today, palaeoenvironmental reconstructions by EFAP and other projects (Ameset al. 2014; Ames & Cordova 2015; Betts 1998; Cordova et al. 2013; Garrard and Byrd
2013; Jones, Maher, Richter, et al. 2016; Jones & Richter 2011; Jones, Maher, Macdonald,
et al. 2016; Maher et al. In press) indicate that the picture was quite diﬀerent during the
Pleistocene and early Holocene; instead the landscape was a lush grassland and parkland,
dotted by rivers, streams, playa lakes, and wetlands. The site of Kharaneh IV sat adjacent
to one of these substantial wetlands. Indeed, it is one of up to three large aggregation sites
dating back 20 000 years ago to the Early Epipalaeolithic.
Kharaneh IV covers more than 21 000 m2 and prolonged and repeated occupation overa 1200-year time span led to the formation of an archaeologically-dense, mounded site
(Figure 3). While the surface of the site is deﬂated to create a pavement of ﬂint (and someof the uppermost occupational deposits are thus lost to erosion), this pavement protected
the fragile underlying anthropogenic deposits and preserved the site’s stratigraphic record
as a series of complicated occupational contexts (Figure 4). These deposits provide ahigh-resolution geoarchaeological dataset containing evidence for hut structures, hearths,
postholes, symbolic and mundane caches, flint-knapping activities, food-processing,consumption and disposal areas, and human burials. Radiocarbon samples from throughout
the site’s stratigraphic record indicate that the site was densely occupied between 19 800
and 18 600 cal. BP (Richter et al. 2013; Maher et al. 2021), spanning the Early and Middle
phases of the Epipalaeolithic, with no clear evidence for substantial hiatuses in occupation2).
Details of the excavation results and analyses of fauna, ﬂora, and other material remains
have been published extensively elsewhere (Maher 2016, 2019, 2020; Maher & Conkey
2019; Maher & Macdonald 2013; Maher et al. 2021; Maher et al. 2016; Maher &Macdonald 2020; Maher, Richter, Macdonald, et al. 2012; Henton et al. 2017; Martin et al.
2010; Spyrou 2019; Macdonald & Maher 2020; Macdonald & Maher In press; Macdonald
et al. 2018) and will not be reviewed here. Instead, I will focus here on summarizing recent
results from the excavation of two hut structures from Early Epipalaeolithic contexts. The
presence of several hut structures, and other associated activities of place-making, provides
a rare opportunity to show how microscale geoarchaeological methods are effectively
utilized to investigate the organization of space and hints at emerging behaviors related to‘settling-into’ the landscape, economic intensiﬁcation, and mortuary behaviors associated2) While there is no clear evidence for abandonment of the site during this time frame, we do not claim permanent or fully

sedentary occupation of the site. Instead, we assume that, these variably mobile groups likely repeatedly left the site during
short-term movements elsewhere within the basin or even more sustained periods of dispersal beyond.

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with dwelling almost 9000 years earlier than previously known.

On-Site Activities and Use of the Local Landscape (Landscape Modiﬁcation?)

Geoarchaeological work on-site and oﬀ-site at Kharaneh IV demonstrates that occupationof the site occurred within the context of a lush well-watered environment. Site occupants
experienced ready access to numerous freshwater resources, and a wide diversity of ﬂora
and fauna related to wetland, grassland and parkland habitats—a landscape very diﬀerent
from that of today (Jones, Maher, Richter, et al. 2016; Jones, Maher, Macdonald, et al.
2016). The rapid burial of occupational deposits followed by rapid desiccation after
abandonment produced extraordinarily well-preserved array of organic features andmaterials (Maher et al. In press). The site, thus, allows us to address nuanced questions ofchanging hunter-gatherer lifeways and novel human-landscape interactions prior to theorigins of villages and agriculture.
Intensive use of wetland plants, sedges, grasses, and some arboreal species (e.g.,tamarisk, woody chenopods) are well-documented at the site through the macrobotanicalrecord of charcoal (Asouti et al. 2015) and, occasionally, seeds and tubers (A.
Arranz-Otaegui, personal communication, 2019), as well as through micro-botanicalremains of phytoliths (Ramsey et al. 2015; Ramsey et al. 2018; Ramsey et al. 2016;
Ramsey & Rosen 2016). Ramsey et al. (Ramsey et al. 2016) have suggested that the focus
on both wetland plants and grasses might suggest an alternative pathway of plant use to
the traditional narrative of increasing dependence on grasses as a staple foodstuﬀ leading
to their domestication. In this way, these ‘reliable’ wetland species might even be preferred
to more ‘riskier’ grasses as the former wetland landscapes are often buﬀered against minor
ecological and climatic ﬂuctuations while grasslands are generally considered sensitive tochange (Ramsey et al. 2016). The species represented in the Kharaneh IV botanical record,
and their context, certainly provide clear evidence of the wide variety of plants collected
for consumption. They also, however, shed insights into use of the local landscape forconstruction, fuel and other non-food purposes. Here, analyses of the distributions ofdiﬀerent phytoliths within the burnt organic superstructure of two huts (see below), as wellas across the ﬂoors of these huts, tells us that a combination of sedges and grasses wereselected for construction and as matting (Ramsey et al. 2018).
Similarly, analyses of the faunal remains from various on-site contexts demonstrates
that the site’s inhabitants hunted a wide range of prey species, including water-dependent
species like boar, aurochs, tortoise, and waterfowl, as well as fox, hare, wolf, equids, andostrich, yet they focused particularly on gazelle (Martin et al. 2010; Martin et al. 2016;
Spyrou 2019; Henton et al. 2017; Jones 2012). The intensity of gazelle utilization andinsights into hunting practices provided by analyses of cementum (Henton et al. 2017) andage and sex proﬁles suggests that in the latter phases of occupation, communal hunting© Japanese Archaeological Association

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strategies that focused on whole herd culls (Martin et al. 2010), as well as evidence forscaled-up processing and drying of gazelle meat (Spyrou 2019) tell us that gazelle were
integral to everyday food provisions, and very intensively exploited, perhaps to the point ofoverexploitation. It is clear that the occupants of the site utilized a wide array of plant andanimal resources from the local wetlands and surrounding grasslands, and this would have
had an impact on the local ecology, the distributions and abundances of these species.

On-Site Activities and the Structured Use of SpaceWe know that people settled at Kharaneh IV because it was a verdant wetland environment,rich in plants and animals preferred by these groups. We know that they abandoned thesite when this wetland dried up, and the resources it supported disappeared (Maher et
al. In press). But what were people doing at the site to create such a dense record ofoccupation? Excavations since 2008 have documented a wide range of activities on-site,
activities which changed in nature from the Early to Middle Epipalaeolithic (Maher 2019;
Maher et al. 2021; Maher, Richter, Macdonald, et al. 2012; Macdonald & Maher 2020;
Macdonald et al. 2018). Where Early Epipalaeolithic (c. 19.8–18.9 kya) occupations are
discrete and spatially-bounded, characterized by hut structures and associated hearths andcaches, Middle Epipalaeolithic (c. 18.9–18.6 kya) occupations are spatially continuous
and unbounded, characterized by thick horizontally-extensive compact earthen surfaces
hearths and post holes. The former are interpreted as representing small groups invested
in domestic, perhaps household-level, activities who made clear delineations of space for
specific tasks, caches objects, and conducted some activities in ‘private’ indoor spaces(e.g., hide processing) and other in more public ‘outdoor’ spaces (cooking) (Macdonald &Maher 2020; Maher 2020; Maher & Macdonald 2020). The latter are interpreted as morecommunal, group activities related to large scale processing and preservation of gazellethrough drying or smoking (Spyrou 2019).
Recent work at the site has revealed evidence for at least four hut structures. Structures
1 and 2, the only huts fully excavated to-date (Figure 4), are both just over 2 m×3 m insize and show a complex sequence of construction, maintenance, use, and destruction
events, where each hut was burnt and buried after use (Maher et al. 2021; Maher, Richter,
Macdonald, et al. 2012). In fact, the similarities (and some diﬀerences) in the structured
spaces and, thus, the ‘life history’ of these two huts is remarkable.

Structure 1: Early Epipalaeolithic

Structure 1 is semi-subterranean, and kidney-shaped and composed of several different
strata (Figure 5). The lowest deposits represent three superimposed compact ﬂoor deposits.
Although the structure is small, its floors were re-constructed and re-surfaced, and the
hut was re-used on several occasions (Maher 2019). The deposit above these ﬂoors is a
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Figure 5. Top: Section of Hut Structure 1, showing the stratigraphic relationships between
the burnt superstructure and superimposed floors discussed in the text. A photograph of the
Middle Floor during excavation is on the right. Bottom: Section of Hut Structure 2, showing
the stratigraphic relationships between the burnt superstructure, the human burial and thesuperimposed ﬂoors discussed in the text. A photograph of the detail of hut’s stratigraphy is on theright, with the dark top layer representing the remains of the burnt superstructure.

thicker ﬁll deposit. The ﬁnal hut deposit is an organic-rich burnt sediment, interpreted tobe the burnt superstructure. Once the occupants of the structure decided to abandon it, theyburned the hut down, thus terminating the cycle of reuse. Near the center of the structure,
deliberately placed on the burnt superstructure immediately after its destruction, we
found three distinct caches of pierced, ochre-stained marine shells imported from both theMediterranean and Red Seas and locally-collected ﬁst-sized chunks of red ochre. After theplacement of these objects around a large ﬂat anvil stone, a deposit of sterile orange sandwas placed over the burnt deposits, suggesting it was intentionally destroyed and sealed
after abandonment, ‘ceremoniously’ closing the structure’s life history.
Reconstructing the beginning of the life-history of the hut—the construction—comesfrom phytolith analysis (Ramsey et al. 2018). Phytoliths from the various strata showthat the superstructure was composed of a variety of plant materials that would have been
available in the local wetland, including grasses, sedges, and reeds. Phragmites sp. wasfound in high concentrations in the superstructure, suggesting that this plant played an
important role in construction. There is also evidence for woody dicot plants, suggestinga wooden frame over which reeds and grasses were woven to create the thatched© Japanese Archaeological Association259

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Figure 6. Photographs of the upper and middle ﬂoors of Structure 1 during excavation (left),with scans of the micromorphological slides from these deposits, as well as the burnt superstructure(center) and interpretations of the sequence of events based on microstratigraphic and macroartifact analyses (right). The upper and lower center images are images from these slides at 25 ×magniﬁcation, showing burnt bone beads (upper left) and charcoal (upper right) and the compact,
clayey and ‘clean’ ﬂoors (lower).

superstructure. The ﬂoors were covered with a layer of grasses and sedges that represent
matting or bedding placed on the compact earthen ﬂoors.
Micromorphological analysis of the hut’s stratigraphy shows that the first few
centimeters of each floor context are thinly laminated, highly compact and remarkably
clean of large objects (larger than a small pebble) (Figure 6). However, they are extremely
dense in highly fragmented anthropogenic materials like charcoal, bone, ﬂint microﬂakes,
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Figure 7. Photographs of artifacts found in the deposits of Hut Structures 1 and 2. (A) Articulated
aurochs vertebrae, worked bone and a fragment of groundstone from the top of the Upper Floor.
Other faunal remains from the ﬂoor contexts included (B) an articulated tortoise carapace, (C)several burnt and unburnt articulated fox paws, and (D) several polished bone points. (E) Several
caches of marine shell and red ochre were found placed on top of the burnt superstructure. (F)Caches of cores and bladelet manufacturing debris and tools were found in between structures 1
and 2. (G) An overview of Structure 2 with the burnt superstructure layer visible, and the partiallyburnt human burial (inset) found along the western margins of the structure on top of the uppermost
ﬂoor.

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sweeping or gets trapped underneath matting. The overlapping ﬂoors suggest that there no
major interruptions in occupation; one ﬂoor was built on top of another within a relatively
short period of time and, as such, the building of a new ﬂoor may mark either necessary
maintenance of the ﬂoor or even a rejuvenation of space, perhaps linked to an importantlife event for its occupants, or to important seasonal milestones.
Detailed typo-technological and use-wear analyses of the distributions of macroartifacts
on each ﬂoor, especially in relation to spaces outside the hut, show clear diﬀerences in theuse of inside and outside spaces. For example, microlith production occurred outside whilesome butchery and hide processing occurred inside, the matted ﬂoors would have provided
cushioned spaces to sit and sleep, and the type and distribution of articulated animals
remains suggests gazelle and fox hides either hung from the superstructure, or were partof its construction (Macdonald & Maher 2020). Marine shells occur in caches and as thestill-strung remains of clothing (Figure 7). An abundance of highly polished bone tools andcaches of endscrapers with hide working polish suggest hide working was a common insideactivity.
Further alluding to the repeated re-use and ongoing maintenance of this structure, oneach of the hut’s three distinct ﬂoors, as well as the burnt superstructure, we excavatedseveral in situ caches of groundstone, bone points, macrolithic flint tools, ochre, andarticulated remains of fox, hare and tortoise intentionally placed on these otherwise notably‘clean’ floors (Figure 7). All of these items are notably less common outside of thesestructures and indicate a clear spatial organization to the use of space within and between
the huts and the performance of specific activities between these well-defined spaces(Macdonald & Maher 2020). Speciﬁc animals remains were stored inside (fox, tortoise,hare), larger curated tools such as scrapers were kept within the structure, and the hut was
periodically swept or cleaned, with a new ﬂoor laid down. The presence of marine shellbeads and red ochre indicates that the structure was also involved in symbolic life beyond
everyday activities.

Structure 2: Early Epipalaeolithic

Like Structure 1, preliminary phytolith analysis suggests that Structure 2 was composedof wetland grasses and reeds, with some wooden support poles (M. Ramsey, personalcommunication, 2018). There are other notable similarities between these two structures(Maher et al. 2021). Structure 2 has multiple superimposed compact ﬂoor deposits, eachwith large artifacts and faunal remains sitting on the surface (Figure 5). In comparison tothe outside deposits, there are few macro-artifacts within the structure but, unlike Structure
1, there were no caches of pierced marine shell. It was also burnt after abandonment.
However, directly below the burnt superstructure we uncovered a human skeleton
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indicating it was placed within the structure just prior to burning (Maher et al. 2021). Theinterred individual is a woman, approximately 50 years old. She was carefully placed ina fetal position, with her head turned to the side and facing down and one hand restingon her face. She suﬀered from arthritis, as evidenced on her vertebra, and had suﬀered afall, resulting in a fractured wrist that fully healed before she passed away. Her partiallyburnt skeleton shows evidence of exposure to ﬁre, forensically consistent with patterns
seen when a body is encased in a protective layer prior to conﬂagration. It is likely that
she was wrapped in a hide blanket or even covered in a thin layer of sediment before thehut structure was burnt around her, partially protecting her body from the intense heat ofthis ﬁre. Experimental research indicates the ﬁre would have been intense, but short-lived,destroying the structure in the eyes of the occupants, but preserving evidence of these
events (see discussion in Maher et al. 2021). The burial of this woman inside Structure 2
foreshadows a well-noted association between human burials and houses in the Neolithic,
where people were often carefully positioned, wrapped and buried below floors. It haslong been thought that these associations represent the symbolic marking of connections
between speciﬁc individuals and houses, reinforcing the construction of and connection toa built environment (Bar-Yosef & Valla 2013; Baird et al. 2017; Watkins 2012; Croucher2012). I argue here that it is likely the burial in Structure 2 also indicates an intentional,
long-term connection to the site as a ‘built environment,’ marked through mutual end oflife of the structure and the person interred within it.

Structured Use of Space in the Middle Epipalaeolithic

Excavations in the Middle Epipalaeolithic component of the site have unearthed a seriesof horizontally-extensive and poorly-bounded occupation surfaces, each associated withhearths (sometimes overlapping) and multiple postholes, all of which are artifact-rich(Maher 2019). These surfaces are interpreted as outdoor activity areas and are identiﬁable
on the basis of their compact, clayey texture, associated hearths and postholes, ﬂat-lying
artifacts, and articulated animal remains. The posthole features are primarily concentrated
around hearths and are very small in diameter, suggesting that they were ephemeral
structures around or beside ﬁreplaces, such as meat-drying or smoking racks. Analyses ofthe food processing remains here indicates intensive processing of gazelle, where meat
was either stored or eaten in mass consumption events (Spyrou 2019). There is a notable
increase in the occurrence of marine shell, sometimes decorated, and incised bone andstone, here. Patterns in the markings of bone and stone objects may indicate the keepingof time, production of maps, or marking of repeatedly performed activities (Macdonald &Maher In press). Reﬁts of gazelle processing tools across these extensive compact outdoor
surfaces corroborates the idea of communal activities taking place here.
In addition, an increase in the diversity of microlith tool types here exhibits a ‘blending’© Japanese Archaeological Association

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of lithic traditions documented across the larger region (Maher & Macdonald 2020). The
tools at Kharaneh IV—all made on locally-available ﬂint—have clear parallels to manyclustered distributions of sites elsewhere and indicate that the site became integrated into—
perhaps even as a focus of—large-scale social networks of interaction documented by bothmaterial culture and knowledge exchange in how to make particular types of tools.

Changes in the Structured Use of Space

There are notable diﬀerences in the use of space documented between the Early and Middle
phases of occupation at the site. Early occupations exhibit a complicated stratigraphy ofnumerous, thin, discrete deposits and the establishment of ‘place’ through the demarcationof space: the building of structures that separated publicly-visible and private spaces,
clearly bounded spaces for preparing food, processing plants and animals, eating,sleeping, ﬂintknapping, hide processing, and the burial of the dead. Middle occupations
show fewer, thick, horizontally-extensive deposits related to repeated activities involving
the participation of many people. Community and connections between Kharaneh IV
and other sites in the larger landscape are highlighted by the long-distance movementsof marine shell, marking of bone and stone in abstract ways presumably understoodby the larger community, and sharing of technological knowledge, or traditions, forstone tool production. In both phases, a combination of macro- and microscale analyses
demonstrate evidence for place-making, suggest its inhabitants engaged in local landscapetransformation of the surrounding wetlands through (sometimes very intensive) use ofparticular resources and emphasizes that KHIV was a part of a larger socially mediatedEpipalaeolithic landscape.

5. Case Study 2: Place-Making in the Jomon of Japan—Goshizawa
Matsumori No. 4
While connections between Late Pleistocene hunter-gatherers of Southwest Asia andJapan might not be immediately apparent, I intend here to demonstrate that a) the same
theoretical approach to landscape and place-making are as illuminating here as they werein Southwest Asia, and b) there are similarities in how these different hunter-gatherers
leave traces of place-making in the archaeological record. I will focus on the Early to
Middle Jomon (c. 3300–3200 BCE), which is not directly comparable to the Early andMiddle Epipalaeolithic on the basis of chronology, but instead is, I argue, comparable interms of how these hunter-gatherer groups were increasingly engaged in behaviors related
to settling into the landscape, creating a built environment and engaged in place-making tocreate a ‘storied’ landscape (Langley 2013). Indeed, the same list of features I noted above
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than previously thought—applies as equally to the Jomon as it does to the Epipalaeolithic. I
trace here the well-documented macro-scale evidences for landscape use and place making
in the Early to Middle Jomon, as well as present new evidence for microscale traces of site
structure through micromorphological examination of deposits from two sites.
Extending my focus on place-making documented through anthropogenic deposits
outside of Southwest Asia, as part of the Small-Scale Economies Project directed by
Dr. Junko Habu through the Research Institute for Humanity and Nature, Kyoto, andUniversity of California, Berkeley, I am currently exploring hunter-gatherer landscapeconstruction through examination of the anthropogenic deposits from the Jomon site ofGoshizawa Matsumori No. 4 (Figure 1). This research is ongoing and preliminary in nature,and I refer to reader to extensive publications by Junko Habu on this site, and the Jomon in
general (Habu 2004, 2002, 2018, 2010; Matsumoto et al. 2017; Underhill & Habu 2006;
Habu 2008, 2014; Habu & Hall 2013; Heron et al. 2016; Habu et al. 2016). Excavations at
Goshizawa Matsumori No. 4 have produced a rich record of hunter-gatherer activities anddemonstrate that this Early and Middle Jomon site was a signiﬁcant focus of place-making
activities.
The transition from the Palaeolithic to Jomon Periods begins around 16 000 cal. BP and
is marked by pottery and the intensiﬁcation of certain settlement and subsistence practices
that culminate at the end of the Middle Jomon (c. 2400 BCE) with extraordinarily large,
planned villages supported by intensive use of particular resources like chestnut, alongside
a diversity of other plant and animal foodstuﬀs (Kitagawa & Yasuda 2008; Yasuda et al.
2004). Starting in the Early Jomon, speciﬁc evidences for place-making include highly
structured sites with (often hundreds of) pit-houses, hearths inside and outside of houses,
storage pits, and burials (Habu 2004); often these features occur within sites in patterns thatindicate a striking degree of planning (Kobayashi et al. 2004, Figure 6.4). Into the Middle
Jomon, sites get larger and more elaborately laid-out concentrically around central plazaswith raised-platform and ceremonial structures (Kobayashi et al. 2004, pp. 102–103).
These Early and Middle Jomon sites, thus, demonstrate clearly structured use of space,
where activities related to storage, cooking, sleeping, tool preparation, and burial of thedead are delineated from each other, as well as organized with respect to each other. The
repetition of this structuring at multiple sites suggests connections and interactions between
these hunter-gatherer villages, where there is a shared tradition in how to structure daily
life, or ‘way to do things.’
Archaeobotanical remains and faunal assemblages from Early and Middle Jomon sites
highlight food diversity—a broad spectrum approach to subsistence, yet also documentchanges over time that lead to increasingly more intensiﬁed use of preferred plants andanimals into the Middle Jomon, without a trajectory towards agriculture per se (Bleed& Matsui 2010; Habu 2010; Habu et al. 2011; Matsumoto et al. 2017). Sites preserving© Japanese Archaeological Association

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a rich array of organic remains also highlight the richness of woodworking and textile
technologies. In the larger landscape surrounding these Jomon villages, evidence forlandscape management and modiﬁcation comes in the form of sites surrounded by standsof trees, such as chestnut, often occurring in dense, single species concentrations (Kobayashi
et al. 2004), as well as pit-traps, sometimes occurring in the thousands and tens of thethousands around sites (Imamura 1996, p. 84). These earthen pits, placed along known
animal paths (Kobayashi et al. 2004), are part of a larger landscape-scale hunting strategy
for maneuvering and capturing wild pigs and deer.
The evidence for complex and elaborate use and shaping of the landscape by these
Jomon hunter-gatherers has served to focus current research on two central issues: Why
did some people settle down into large, dense villages, and how do these relate to smaller
residential bases (like Goshizawa Matsumori No. 4)? What was the nature of subsistence
practices supporting these diﬀerent sites? In other words, why did people become sedentary(and what happened after the Middle Jomon when sites decline, although beyond thescope of this paper) and were they actively managing/cultivating/domesticating nuts andother plants, engaged in highly diverse food-related practices, through niche construction?
Bleed and Matsui (2010) provide a range of speciﬁc examples for the management of plant
and animal communities, such as chestnut and lacquer trees, if not outright cultivationof several species. Yet, at the same time, it seems that diversity characterized Jomon
subsistence strategies, with planned, systematic and predictable food-procuring strategies’(Kobayashi et al. 2004, p. 73) and active manipulation of the distribution, reproduction,and productivity of plant and animal communities that allowed Jomon people to develop
large, relatively permanent settlements by the Middle Jomon period.
Located in Aomori Prefecture, Goshizawa Matsumori No. 4 is an Early to Middle Jomonsite (dated around 3300–3200 BCE) situated at an elevation of 95 m asl on a gentle, northfacing slope of a volcanic terrace that extends from Mt. Hakkoda. Notably, the site is foundat a higher elevation, facing away from the Aomori Plain, than other typical Early andMiddle Jomon settlements found at the northern edge of this volcanic terrace. The site was
occupied at the transitional period from the end of the Early Jomon to the beginning of the
Middle Jomon, c. 3300–3200 BCE, and likely functioned as a small village or seasonal
residential basecamp for intensive exploitation of mountain resources (J. Habu, personalcommunication, Figure 1). Excavation of the site from 2008 to 2010 were led by J. Habu
and focused on a Jomon pit-dwelling (House 1, dated to 3300–3200 BCE) and two storage
pits, Storage Pit 1 (Feature 13) and Storage Pit 2 (Feature 19), all of which are dated to theend of the Early Jomon (Lower Ento-d phase) and beginning of the Middle Jomon (Upper
Ento-a phase) (Habu et al. 2016) (Figure 8). Compared to nearby Sannai Maruyama(13 m asl), Goshizawa Matsumori No. 4 was probably occupied less intensively (either
for a shorter period, or more intermittently), but can still be considered a small village© Japanese Archaeological Association

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Figure 8. Overview of the main excavation area at Goshizawa Matsumori, showing a close-up
of Pit House 1 and Storage Pit 1 (Feature 13). Samples D and E (from the southern section of thepit house ﬂoor and its ﬁll, and central area of the pit house ﬂoor and ﬁll, respectively) and Sample
B (from the central hearth feature) are noted, as is Sample F from Storage Feature 1 marked to theright of the house. Photograph courtesy of J. Habu.

occupied by sedentary or semi-sedentary hunter-gatherers. Systematic soil sampling andcollection of ﬂotation samples illuminate an array of well-preserved macro-scale remainsof plant seeds, nut shells, and charred wood, as well as several microstratigraphic features.
In particular, ﬂotation is producing a rich diversity of arboreal species utilized at the site,
including lacquer tree (Toxicodendron), dogwood (Cornus), and Japanese Angelica-tree(Aralia), as well as other plants like elderberry (Sambucus) and knotweed (Polygonaceae)(Habu et al. 2016, p. 47).
Four intact columns of sediment were collected and processed into thin section slides
from the site (Figure 9). Sample D (slides D1: 94.82–94.89 m asl and D2: 94.89–94.96 m asl)
comes from the House 1 ﬂoor and ﬁll below the ﬂoor, near the southeastern edge of thesquare house depression (Figures 8, 9a). At this area, the sediment below the house ﬂoor
was disturbed and reﬁlled, suggesting the house builders may initially have over-excavatedand patched the area to make a ﬂat ﬂoor surface. Sample E (slides E1: 94.9–94.97 m asl
ﬂoor, E2: 94.97–95.04 m asl, E3: 95.11–95.18 m asl, E4: 95.2–95.27 m asl) represents theHouse 1 ﬂoor and associated overlying ﬁll from the center of the house feature (Figures 8,9b). Sample B (slides B1: 94.82–94.89 m asl, B2: 94.92–94.99 m asl) comes from a hearth© Japanese Archaeological Association

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Figure 9. Micromorphology samples from pit-dwelling House 1: (a) Sample D column from thesouthern edge of the pit house ﬂoor and associated ﬁll, (b) Sample E from the central portion of thepit house ﬂoor and associated ﬁll, and (c), and a stone-lined hearth feature located in the central
portion of the house. Storage Pit 1 (Feature 13) is shown at the bottom of the image (d). Besideeach excavated section is a scanned image of each thin section slide from these columns. Detailsof each slide are provided in the text; however, in summary, examination of pit house ﬂoors andrelated combustion, pit ﬁll and storage features indicate ongoing use, maintenance and re-use of theaccretionary ﬂoor(s), alongside evidence for a complex history of multiple episodes of re-use of thehearth and storage pit. Excavation section photographs courtesy of J. Habu.

feature inside Pit House 1 (Figures 8, 9c). Sample F (slides F1: 94.3–94.37 m asl ﬂoor, F2:
94.45–94.52 m asl, F3: 94.55–94.62 m asl) comes from the bottom and ﬁll of Storage Pit 1(Feature 13, Figures 8, 9d).
Sample D is extremely dense and clay-rich, typical of a compact, trampled earthen ﬂoor.
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In both samples, the deposits are notably ‘clean’ of large fragments of bone, charcoal, ash
accumulations, and rock fragments that are common to the other ﬁll, hearth and storage pit
deposits from the site. Slides D1 and D2 represent ﬂoor samples, overlain by associatedﬁll (Figure 9a). The ﬂoor in the top part of slide D2 exhibits a very dense groundmass
with planar voids parallel to the surface, and some fragments of amorphous organic
material, charcoal, clay aggregates and rock fragments, albeit not in the same density as
the hearth discussed below. There is evidence of iron staining on some of the rocks andclay aggregates, but no iron nodule formation or concentrations within the groundmass.
The other sample, D1, is the patched ﬂoor sediment below the ﬂoor surface. It shows agradual transition from more compact and denser groundmass in the upper part of slide
to looser and crumbly sediment in the lower part with a crumbly microstructure; thecompaction of the upper areas likely the result of trampling from use of the overlying
ﬂoor. This sample also shows small rock fragments and aggregated with iron staining. The
lack of large components of charcoal and bone, compactness and ﬁne-grained size of thesediment and, in sample D2, presence of only large planar voids parallel and subparallelto the ground surface are indicative of a well-maintained ﬂoor context. There are no clear
layers or laminations within these samples that would suggest individual, successive ﬂoor
constructions in the form of superimposed multiple ﬂoors. Instead, the thickness of theﬂoor context and its continuity over its depth represent either the intentional preparationof a thick earthen floor, or, less likely, continued use and sweeping contemporaneouswith occupation so that the ﬂoor is, in essence, accretionary (the accumulation of ﬁnegrained sediment and only larger anthropogenic materials that escaped cleaning) and its
thickness has built up over time through use and episodic cleaning. Further examination ofthis context for phytoliths or other microscale archaeobotanical remains may help address
whether this ﬂoor was covered in any kind of matting that would also contribute to the lackof larger anthropogenic material.
Four micromorphology slides were prepared from Sample E, collected from the central
portion of House 1, near to the edge of the hearth (see below) (Figures 8, 9b). Slide E1,from the bottom of the feature, contains several large charcoal fragments and is very
heterogenous in comparison to other samples from site. It exhibits a relatively compact,subangular blocky microstructure, with randomly oriented and distributed anthropogenic
and non-anthropogenic components. Aside from its compaction, these features are all
characteristic of ﬁll sediment, and likely represents trampled occupation or ﬁll material
immediately on top of the ﬂoor. Slides E2 and E3 come from the middle of the feature andare extremely similar to E1 in terms of their mottled color and density of anthropogenic
material (charcoal and bone, especially), microstructure and the random orientation of its
constituents, albeit with much less anthropogenic material (especially charcoal). However,E2 contains only highly fragmented anthropogenic material, whereas E3 (like E1) contains© Japanese Archaeological Association

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larger fragments of charcoal (much of it extensively burned) and bone. These slides likely
include refuse from when the house was abandoned and re-used as a garbage pit (Habu,
personal communication). Slide E4 comes from the top of the column and is extremely
similar to slide D2 in terms of its compaction and clay-rich, fine-grained groundmass.
There is little visible macro-scale anthropogenic material here, and what is present ishighly fragmented, suggesting the feature, like seen in Sample D, was kept clean orwell-maintained. Here, however, several sub-horizontal layers (marked by dashed lines)
represent subtle changes in color, heterogeneity and density and likely result from multiple
episodes of re-use or re-surfacing. It is possible that the feature captured in this slide comesfrom a higher-traﬃc area that required more maintenance or represents multiple episodesof re-use (i.e., successive accumulations). In sum, this sample shows several slides (E1,
probably E2–E3) typical of a house ﬁll deposit; they are heterogenous and mixed, with avariety of anthropogenic material of varying sizes, orientations and distributions. While
E1 was thought to represent a house ﬂoor, it is more likely that a) the ﬂoor was disturbed
through use of the hearth, b) there was no ﬂoor, per se, here, or c) the column was not
excavated deep enough to catch the floor deposit. The density and compaction of E4,
alongside the overall lack of coarse-grained additions, suggests a fragment of trampled
earth, or ﬂoor, with the layering visible resulting from multiple episodes of re-surfacing.
Interestingly, this slide exempliﬁes the importance of articulating microstratigraphic andmicrostratigraphic observations; while this sample looks much like the ﬂoor contexts from
elsewhere within the house, it is not in situ and, instead, represents a fragment of anotherfeature dislodged during digging elsewhere (perhaps in Feature 19 or Storage Pit 2) anddumped into the then-abandoned house. The layering here was not noted with other ﬂoor
samples from House 1 and represents multiple episodes of re-use of the original feature—
this slide tells us valuable information about the nature of re-use of a feature, just not aboutthe House 1 ﬂoor it was found upon.
A hearth feature from Pit House 1 was also sampled for micromorphology (Figure 9c).
Slide B1 comes from the lower portion of the identiﬁed hearth and shows a dense andclay-rich sediment, rich in charcoal fragment and ash and, below that, localized areas ofiron oxidation that look like the boundary between the cleaned out part of a hearth (withsome remaining charcoal and organic-rich content and ash above and the underlying
ﬁre-reddened soil representing the base of the hearth). A large horizontal stone, perhaps
marking the bottom of the fire pit, is visible in the section photograph. Fire-reddeningof the sediment and burnt soil and burnt rock fragments within indicate in situ burning.
Slide B2 comes from the upper part of the hearth feature shows a dense groundmass
similar to the compact earthen ﬂoor context discussed above suggesting it is possible thata ﬂoor was constructed over the hearth after its dis-use. Slide B2 also contains notabledensities of highly fragmented charcoal, highly burnt rock fragments and ash. It is likely© Japanese Archaeological Association

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that this overlying deposit (ﬁll to cover the hearth and serve as a new ﬂoor foundation?) issomewhat mixed with underlying hearth ﬁll debris and this area of the house was simply
re-used to cover an abandoned hearth and construct a new/renewed ﬂoor.
One storage pit was also sampled for micromorphological examination. Storage Pit
1 (Feature 13) is a deep storage pit whose contents and base were sampled as column
Sample F (Figure 9d). Three slides, F1–3, were processed and analyzed from this context.
Slide F3 comes from a relatively upper portion of this feature; it is a very dense, clayrich and darker brown color than the other samples, containing weathered rock fragments,
bone fragments and iron staining on soil aggregates and rocks. It likely represents part ofthe collapsed storage pit ceiling (a yellowish loamy-clay) mixed with ﬁll sediment. Slide
F2 is lighter in color with a crumbly structure in the upper portion of the slide, while thelower portion is darker in color and resembles underlying sample F1. It is rich in ash andcharcoal, with a large void running perpendicular to the ground surface and inﬁlled with
granular sediment. Slide F1 comes from the bottom of the feature and displays the mottlingand heterogeneity characteristic of pit ﬁll contexts; charcoal, ash, bone fragments are foundthroughout the slide with the upper portion of the slide exhibiting a denser clay groundmass
and ﬁner fragmentation of charcoal and soil aggregates (Figure 9d). Overall, these slides
are heterogeneous, with discernible layers visible throughout the column that represent
multiple pit ﬁll episodes representing an accumulated debris of regular use. This pit was
likely used and re-used, possibly contemporary with the occupation of adjacent House 1
such that the pit may have served as both a storage facility and refuse deposit throughout
its life history. The pit is a ﬂask-shaped pit dug deep into a yellowish clay that starts tocollapse on itself after a period of use and re-use; the pit then appears to have been usedsolely for refuse disposal. Further examination of each of these layers will help resolve thiscomplex history of use.
Identifying possible stands of cultivated trees or caches of food on-site are important
clues to Jomon landscape modiﬁcation and place-making. However, reconstructing Jomon
daily activities at the microscale within individual features, including understanding
methods of construction, maintenance and use of houses and the contents and use ofstorage features, yields invaluable data on the structured use of space within these villages,
sometimes even at the individual household level, and highlights the longevity of theseoccupational features. An examination of pit house floors and related combustion, pit
ﬁll and storage features at Goshizawa Matsumori No. 4 indicates complex life histories
of ongoing use, maintenance and re-use of these features. In short, this type of approachemphasizes the value of microscale datasets for providing a nuanced understanding of theoften-ephemeral repeated daily activities of these hunter-gatherers and, thus, contributing
to knowledge on Jomon place-making. It also sheds light onto local landscape and resourceuse, food preferences, food-processing behaviors, consumption areas and behaviors, and© Japanese Archaeological Association

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economic and technological practices. When paired with other lines of evidence fromthis sites, and other Jomon sites, such as macro-scale faunal and ﬂoral datasets, robustinterpretations of subsistence diversity within these small-scale communities emerge.
These microscale analyses have the potential to provide valuable insights into Jomonsocial landscapes, such as the knowledgeable use of local landscape resources (identifying
charcoal, phytoliths as preserved on house floors and within hearths and pit fills) andassociated technologies and the intentional management of particular food and nonfood resources that includes intergenerational landscape learning and the persistence of
place-based ecological knowledge (see also Habu 2018). These latter goals are currently
underway at Goshizawa Matsumori No. 4 through ongoing geoarchaeological andpaleoethnobotanical analyses. Comparative studies with other types of Jomon sites,
including larger settlements, will be invaluable to better understanding the structured use of
space at these sites, as well as broader landscape practices of the Jomon.

6.

Discussion: A Landscape Full of Places

Prehistoric hunter-gatherer landscapes include communal sites, structures, elaborate
systems of exchange/trade, and symbolic use of space, among others. A landscape iscreated and transformed over time by those who dwelt in these places and sites areconnected to others across dynamic social spaces. I suggest here that both case studies,from Southwest Asia and Japan, are excellent example of these place-making activities.
The archaeological records from both locations reveal many ‘signposts’ of place-making,including architecture, storage pits, caches, hearths and other features that indicate thehighly structured organization and use of space, complex and knowledgeable relationships
with plants and animals that indicate both social, technological, economic and ideologicalengagement with the landscape and its components, a rich symbolic life marked by thetreatment and burial of the dead within sites and other aspects of art and decoration.
Kharaneh IV exempliﬁes how these signposts can fruitfully shed insights into the nuanced
and complex nature of Epipalaeolithic place-making; this approach is beginning to prove
productive for reconstructing Jomon activities at Goshizawa Matsumori No. 4. Thesefeatures, in essence, exhibit a complex history of place-making at both sites. These are,taken together, the traces of both daily activities and symbolic practices associated withmarkings places. Importantly, these sites are one of many from each region that show these‘signs.’The occupants of the sites from both ‘places’ spatially structured activities, and someof these structured spaces may well have been imbued with cultural or symbolic meaning.
Taken further, each site was clearly connected to others across a dynamic landscape. The
creation of what Michelle Langley and others call ‘storied landscapes’ remind us that sites© Japanese Archaeological Association

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are not only culturally-meaningful places in a landscape, they are nodes of interaction
connected to each other by pathways and trails that were meandering (to us), variable, andcomplicated by kinship, alliances, resource distributions, and social contracts (Gamble
1993). These interactions with landscape are not entirely intangible to us today; but manyof these behaviors can be traced through micro- and macro-scale attention to the use of
space, identifying activity areas within sites and tracing material connections between sites.
They provide a glimpse into the lives woven into and around these places as integral to theconstruction of hunter-gatherer communities.
The case studies presented here also remind us that the place-making and otherlandscape-altering activities hunter-gatherers undertake (i.e., through prolonged andrepeated occupation, even aggregation, at the same place over time, and all the activities
entailed in ‘living’ in these places) have the potential to make great impacts on theenvironment, shaping biodiversity and enacting landscape change; thus, any archaeological
exploration into human-environment dynamics, for any time and place, must incorporate
a long term perspective and extend deep into prehistory. Indeed, recent applications of
TEK (traditional ecological knowledge) to archaeological contexts demonstrate its utility
for identifying and interpreting landscape management practices and remind us thatliving memory and deep prehistory can be deeply connected, especially when it comes tolandscape-based knowledge (Nicholas & Markey 2014; Lepofsky 2009). This is proving
particularly useful in studies of specialization versus diversiﬁcation, resilience to climate
and societal changes, and sustainability (e.g., Habu et al. 2018). Contemporary ecosystems
are clearly the product of millennia of co-evolution between environmental components
and human activities, making archaeology particularly well-suited to study these dynamics(Butzer 1996).
Furthermore, microscale approaches are necessary to identify the traces of theselandscape modiﬁcations that are detectable, even at microscopic scales, because the daily
practices of hunter-gatherer life leave tangible traces in the archaeological record. These
daily practices involve reconstructing patterns of movement (including within a site fromhouse to house, from house to storage pit, etc.), aggregation and dispersal of people andthings engaged in the processes of making a landscape a series of socialized places. Thiscan include, for example, the transmission of ecological knowledge or landscape learningthat occurs on intra- and inter-generational levels within one community (Rockman 2013),
the discovery and sharing of new landscape knowledge in newly encountered locations(Rockman & Steele 2003), and the ‘making familiar’ of a new place through the creationof transported landscapes (Anderson 1952) that leads to the import of new species andformation of new ecologies. With these in mind it seems clear that hunter-gatherer
archaeology has the potential to contribute greatly to our long-term understandings of thecreation, maintenance and transformation of landscapes at multiple scales.
© Japanese Archaeological Association

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Acknowledgements
I profusely thank my co-director at Kharaneh IV, Danielle Macdonald, as well as ourﬁeld crews since 2008 for making this research project so engaging, fun, and successful. I
thank the Director General of the Department of Antiquities and our local representatives
for their support. Funding was provided by the National Science Foundation (Grant No.
1727357), Wenner-Gren Foundation, Archaeological Research Facility, Hellman Fellows
Fund, University of California Berkeley, the University of Tulsa, American Center ofOriental Research and Council for British Research in the Levant. Finally, I thank Junko
Habu and Kevin Gibbs for guiding and editing my discussion of the Jomon, and all theparticipants of these landscape workshops at Berkeley and at RIHN for their thoughtprovoking discussions on landscape, past and present. Funding for the processing of the
micromorphological samples from Goshizawa Matsumori No. 4 was provided by the
Small-Scale Economies Project (Project No. 14200084) of the Research Institute for
Humanity and Nature.

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過去の景観について—アジア南西部と日本の事例から見た、狩猟採集民の景観における継続的な場所利用—
リサ・マハー
和文要旨

狩猟採集民考古学は、先史時代の人々がいかにして自分たちの周囲の環境と関わったか、そして、環境についてどれほど豊富な知識を持っていたかを考える機会を、私たちに与えてくれる。これまでの研究の多くは、「農耕のはじまりは革新的な新しい生活様式をもたらした」という前提のもとに、それを文化史上の画期と捉え、「環境に対する人間活動の永続的な影響が顕著になるのは農耕の開始以降である」と解釈してきた。この問題をさらに検討するために、本稿では、狩猟採集民における人間 - 景観間の相互関係について、どのような考古学的なアプローチが可能かを考える。具体的には、人々の日常生活が人間 – 環境間の相互作用に残した痕跡について、ミクロなの視点（土壌微細形態学）を中心としたヨルダンと日本の事例研究を通じて、狩猟採集民の世界と世界観、そして環境知に基づいた、景観に関わる人間の諸活動（landscape practices）について考察する。分析の結果、終末期旧石器時代（Epipalaeolithic）のアジア南西部と縄文時代の日本のいずれの事例においても、豊富な知識にもとづいた景観との関わりが確認できた。特に重要なのは、狩猟採集民のコミュ
ニティが、特定の場所を継続的に利用していた痕跡が認められたことである。これらの二つの事例研究から考えると、狩猟採集民の行動とその日々の生活について、「新石器化前夜」あるいは「農業前夜」（‘impending’ Neolithization or farming）という観点から考察する必要はないことがわかる。
つまり、本稿で扱った更新世末期および完新世前半期の狩猟採集民研究の成果から考えると、「新石器化」の概念には問題がある。その理由は、新石器時代を特徴づけると考えられてきた行動様式の多くは、新石器時代が始まる以前から認められるからである。
狩猟採集民社会に関する民族誌研究の成果からは、社会・経済・技術・象徴体系が分かちがたく結びついた豊かな暮らしぶりが明らかである。しかし、旧石器時代をはじめとする狩猟採集民生活の復元では、多くの場合、保存状態が不良な断片的考古資料に依存せざるを得ない。土壌微細形態
学は、人為的（および非人為的）な堆積物について、フィールドでの肉眼観察よりも高精度でミクロな視点から分析する技法である。この分析技法によって、考古資料に保存されている特定の人間活動とその痕跡を直接つなぐことが可能になる。これらの痕跡を調べることによって得られる、考古学的堆積物の堆積、攪乱、廃絶に関するデータは、先史時代の人々の活動を復元する際に重要である。特に、本稿では、先史時代の景観における「場所作り」と「継続的な場所利用」（place making
and the creation of persistent places）を検討する際に土壌微細形態学が果し得る役割を強調する。考古遺跡における居住をはじめとする人間活動の結果としての人為的堆積物（anthropogenic deposits）
は、人間活動の証拠を捉えた「人工遺物（artifacts）」と考えることが可能である。これらの堆積物には、日々の反復的な人々の営み（practices）と、より瞬間的な人間活動の痕跡の両者が保存されており、それらを同定、分析、解釈することが可能である。このようなミクロな視点からの「場所作り」へのアプローチによって、建築、調理、廃棄パターン、燃焼、人の行き来の多寡（道、床、遺跡間の通路など）、睡眠（寝場所）、貯蔵を含む人々の日々の暮らしの痕跡を、徐々に解明することが© Japanese Archaeological Association

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LANDSCAPES OF THE PAST可能である。
本稿で取り扱う事例研究は、終末期旧石器時代（約 23 000〜11 500 年前）のハラナ IV（KharanehIV）遺跡と、縄文時代前期末〜中期初頭（約 5300〜5200 年前）の合子沢松森（4）遺跡の堆積物についてのミクロ・スケールの分析である。どちらの分析結果も、狩猟採集民の居住地における場所
作りと空間の秩序立った利用を考える際、示唆に富む。ハラナ IV 遺跡における反復的・長期的な居住の証拠を見出すことによって、狩猟採集民の集住（aggregation）と永続的な土地利用の結果として生じた環境への影響を概念化することが可能になる。同遺跡は、居住と交流の場として複数の集団によって使用され、何世代にもわたって景観の中で永続する場となっていた。合子沢松森（4）遺跡では、縄文時代定住的集落の典型的なパターンに合致する、住居と貯蔵穴の継続的な利用と維持の証拠が確認された。これらの分析結果から、私たちは、先史時代の狩猟採集民が、その場所に腰を据えて落ち着き、それぞれの集団に共通の社会的意味を持った景観の中にその場所を位置づけ、さまざまな生業や社会的活動のためにその場所を改変していった痕跡を見出すことができる。
キーワード：地質考古学（ジオアーケオロジー）、景観、旧石器時代終末期、縄文、狩猟採集民考古学© Japanese Archaeological Association

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