Recent Posts (page 15 / 37)

by Quentin Lewis

Weeknotes: 6/11/23-6/17/23

This Week:

  • We welcomed over forty 4th graders from Valleyview Elementary School the Yager Museum. We haven’t had any school classes visit the Museum since I started in 2016, but many local community members have fond memories of visiting the Museum years or decades ago. Thus, it was really wonderful to start that up again. We had a great time, and the kids asked really wonderful questions about archaeology, native american life, and history.
  • At home, we did a lot of gardening, putting some more future-food in the ground, and trying to get part of our front yard closer to rewilding.
  • My wife and I watched Robert Eggers' “The Lighthouse”, a dark, strange and elusive movie about two men trapped with each other in ways both physical and psychic. I’m still pondering whether I liked the movie or not. It’s much more open-ended than “The Witch”, which I loved, but but so much of that open-ness was filled with violence and depravity that I’m not sure what I could take away. Maybe I need to watch it again?
  • I switched my Raspberry PI home music player from Runeaudio software to Volumio software. I’ve used Runeaudio for years, but have grown tired of it bricking the PI every time I have to update. Volumio does basically all the same stuff and promises to be much more user-friendly. Fingers crossed!
  • I sold some more comics on ebay. Here’s to making room for more!
by Quentin Lewis

Weeknotes: 6/4/23-6/10/23

This Week:

  • My Wife and I finished watching “Color of Night” on the Criterion Channel. It’s a sumptuously shot and totally preposterous movie where Bruce Willis plays a psychiatrist who moves to LA after one of his patients commits suicide, only to take over his best friend’s therapy group after the friend is murdered by one of the patients. It has outrageous violence, gratuitous sex, and a monstrously great cast including Brad Dourif, Lance Henriksen, Lesley Ann Warren, Scott Bakula, and Ruben Blades. It’s totally insane but pretty engrossing in its insanity.
  • The Museum brought on two new summer employees. Welcome Ethan and Stephanie!
  • I supervised the return of our exhibit “Black Lives at Hartwick Then and Now” back into the Museum galleries, and the painting over some old labels in the Herzog gallery.
  • We did some great long-term planning for a whole bunch of summer programs for kids. It’s going to be a busy June and July at the Museum!
  • We dealt with pretty awful air from the Canadian wildfires..
  • I enjoyed listening to Maron’s interview with William Shatner on WTF, which was as bonkers as you’d expect from two old narcissistic performers.
by Quentin Lewis

Weeknotes: 5/28/23 - 6/3/23

This Week:

  • We ended up having a four-day weekend over memorial day, so we did a bunch of fun stuff, travelling to Albany and Cooperstown, doing some gardening, and going to the movies. Guardians of the Galaxy 3 was the fun, popcorn movie that I wanted.
  • At the Museum, we welcomed our summer graduate intern Lara, and immediately put her to work on some exhibit prep and some program prep.
  • After multiple weekends of work, we finished repainting our garage.
  • I finished reading David Stradling’s interesting “Making Mountains: New York City and the Catskills” and wrote up some notes. Stradling draws on Raymond Williams' masterful “The Country and the City” as well as the American tradition of environmental history pioneered by William Cronon. It’s as a good of a guide as I’ve found to the complex history, development, and romantic imagery that the Catskills have embodied and continue to embody.
  • If all goes well, Dominic will finally have his 10th birthday party tomorrow, going with six of his friends to see “Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse”. I’ll be there, but only to chaperone, and not at all because I loved the first movie and am hearing great things about how good the sequel is supposed to be.
  • I added a list of books that I’d like to read to my wishlist. If you’re feeling like buying me a present, pick something off the list and then go order it at The Green Toad Bookstore or at Bookshop.org!
by Quentin Lewis

Booknotes: Making Mountains: New York City and the Catskills by David Stradling

Making Mountains: New York City and the Catskills
by
David Stradling

Finished 5/30/23

An insightful tour of the history, culture, and built environment of the Catskill mountains, showing how the region was co-constructed as a timeless and ancient wilderness alongside New York City’s metropolitan growth.

Building on the tradition of environmental history laid out by William Cronon, as well as the rich dialectical analysis of Raymond Williams' “The Country and the City”, Stradling explores what Washington Irving would call “the great poetical region of our country”, and how the image of the rural catskills lined up with the lived reality and built environment of the place. Not surprisingly, he finds that much of the history of the Catskills since it was settled by Euro-Americans after the Revolutionary war is a history of the City shaping the countryside, and being, in turn, shaped by the the countryside. New York City could not exist without the Catskills. The clean water for which the city was justly hailed for much of the 20th century came from Catksill reservoirs that destroyed whole valleys of villages. The stones that built many of the cities iconic structures and paved its roads were minded in Catskill quarries. Most importantly, the image of Catskills as a wild, unspoiled wilderness provided a magnetic pull to city tourists seeking to escape crowded urban 19th and 20th century life. But this image was, of course, contrived; from the moment the Catskills was settled by Europeans and Americans, it was sketched in literature and in art as a place of deep history, wild nature, and romantically ruined (or empty) habitation.

Chapter 1 focuses on how the earliest American residents made a living in the Catskills. While Mohican, Haudenosaunee, and Lenne Lenape peoples had lived in the region since time immemorial, by the American Revolution, they had largely fled to safer environs, and Americans, seeking land for agriculture, moved in. Like many hilly farms in other regions, Catskills farmers generally produced a range of products based largely on pasturage, as row crops were difficult given the terrain. They were quite diversified, raising a variety of products for local exchange, and a few key products for sale in urban markets. Stradling notes that the major products of the Catskills were often not strictly agricultural, but consisted of non-edible biotic materials like timber, tanned leather, and eventually bluestone, which served as New York City’s sidewalk paving for much of the 19th century. However, the reliance on urban markets linked Catskill farmers to the boom and bust cycles of 19th century capitalism, and many farms failed. Ironically, it was this failure that created one of the key images associated with the Catskills in the minds of tourists: the ruin, which fed into romantic notions of the region as a site of struggle between culture and nature. As Stradling notes “urban visitors to the countryside, distanced from the rural struggle for success, could look fondly upon the ruins that evidenced failure, and think mostly how wonderful it must have been to live so close to nature” (45)

Chapter 2 begins to outline how this romanticism manifested in art and literature, creating a fictive past and romantic present for these mountains on which farmers continued to struggle. The key figures in this movement were Washington Irving, James Fenimore Cooper, and Thomas Cole. Irving and Cooper highlighted the historicity of the Catskills, melding folklore, Dutch and English history, Native American life, and the environmental setting to create cultural association in the Catskills that would develop and persist to the present day. Irving, whose most famous Catskills creation was Rip Van Winkle, imbued the region with “instant lore–a deep history created in the imagination of a fiction writer.” (49) Cooper was born in Cooperstown, on the other side of the Mountains, but moved as a young man to Westchester county, from where he launched his writing career. His Natty Bumpo, depicted in “The Pioneers” was a character who stood for a decaying past, but also as a marker of “the mythical frontier hero” (51), which was easy for many 19th century Americans to embrace. Finally, Cole, and the Hudson River School of painters that he founded, embraced the Catskills as a place where one might encounter “The Sublime”. This mix of aesthetic and emotional feelings were part of the romantic tradition that saw the apprehension of nature (even in artistic depictions) as a moment of holy and meaningful engagement, and particularly for urban dwellers for whom the city was increasingly a place of difference, discord, and dirt.. Cole’s work, which drew on European landscape realism, but linked it to the American landscape of the Catskills, was always tied into the New York art market, and indeed, much of Cole’s early work was done in his New York City studio. Again, the country and the city cannot be meaningfully separated.

Chapter 3 looks out how this imagery of wilderness and history spurred the growth of tourism in the region. As early as 1828, local landmarks and buildings were being named after Rip Van Winkle, signaling that locals were making use of the imagery of the region to attract tourists. Initial tourists came as part of the American “grand tour” modeled on the middle class 18th century European version which included classical and medieval ruins. But for a variety of reasons, tours of American scenary and locales were dotted with hotels that catered to such visitors, and the Catskill Mountain House, opened in 1828, inaugurated this trend in the region. For visitors of lesser means, farmers opened up rooms for boarders, the income from which gradually supplanted agricultural income, eroding the urban-rural divide even further. Advertising and descriptions of the period continued to exemplify the notion of sublimity championed by Cole, and visitors could use the hotels to behold the power of nature and the wilderness, despite the wild landscape being somewhat contrived. For example, Kaaterskill Falls, one of the most popular destinations for viewing the sublime, was completely controlled over the course of the 19th century by a series of dams that would allow for waterflow at key visitor moments. The Catskills was already a cultural landscape even as tourists from New York City saw it more and more as an untouched wilderness.

Chapter 4 examines how the Catskills “wilderness” was structured and preserved, both through legislation, and through the private actions of individuals like fly-fishermen who used their wealth and status to maintain undeveloped lands for their own use. It also details the life and writings of naturalist John Burroughs, born in the Catskills and a steady but eccentric chronicler of life there. Key in this chapter is that state preservation laws understood that preservation was not exclusive; forests need trails and lookouts and other methods for regulating and structuring human usage. This was equally true for fly-fishers, a sport that grew in popularity at the end of the 19th century, especially among urban middle-class and elites, and for whom preservation of waters and stocking of fish were methods of organizing nature for their hobby and continued use. The nature of the Catskills “wilderness” was always one that linked the biotic and cultural worlds. The ambiguity emerged from how much of human activity to allow and who should be included or excluded. This chapter ends with a discussion of the beloved children’s book “My Side of the Mountain” by Jean Craighead George, which chronicles a young Brooklyn boy’s return to his family’s Catskills property where he lives in the wilderness. Coming to the untrammeled, natural countryside from the city remained an attractive fantasy for young and old alike, and the Catskills was a place where such fantasies could be enacted and their effects structured.

Chapter 5 documents the long and complicated process of how New York City’s water supply came to reside in the Catskills, and the changes that this wrought in the region. The construction of the Ashokan reservoir which flooded several Catskills towns, was the culmination of a complex political and cultural argument about the relationship of the country to the city. Even to this day, locals remain ambivalent or even hostile to the city’s extraction of water. And yet, as Stradling notes, the amount of land owned by New York City in the Catskills (as well as the tax revenue from such land) makes it a significant political and economic presence in the region.

Chapter 6 focuses on Catskill tourism in the 20th century, and particularly how urban Jewish tourism, in the region expanded during the middle decades of the century. Middle-class Jews from New York City’s often crowded ethnic enclaves found that the Catskills were a space of retreat and openness. The hospitality industries of the Catskills expanded to follow suit, creating, for much of the century, the Borscht Belt and its associated restaurants, hotels, and entertainment styles. It also provided an incubator for much of what became stand-up comedy, and Stradling notes a number of prominent entertainers who began as Borscht Belt comedians. It was the gradual inclusion of Jewish people into other aspects of American life and the cessation of outright antisemitic prejudice that saw the downfall of the Borscht Belt hotels, as Jews found that they had the resources to travel to other areas outside these particular tourist enclaves in Sullivan county.

Chapter 7 looks at how the long-time interconnectedness of the Catskills and the City culminated in the suburbanization of the Catskills with the expansion of roadways and the growth of automobile ownership in the 20th century. It also examines how counter-cultural forces from New York City in the latter half of the 20th century claimed the Catskills as their space, perhaps most dramatically at the Woodstock festival. This trend was part of a larger suburbanization of the Catskills, which made the region an attractive one for urban working car owners, but also exacerbated the problems of suburban development found in many large metropolitan areas of monotony and de-territorialization. At the same time, the heavy state investment in roads and highways meant that the Catskills became a region that tourists drove through but not to, putting pressure on the hospitality industry that had thrived when the railroads structured tourist movement in the region. All of this anxiety was accompanied, in the latter half of the century, by the growth of artist communities and counter-cultural forces in the region. Bob Dylan’s move to Woodstock (and his eventual retreat even further) is the most prominent exemplar here. But the chapter (and the book) ends with the contradictions that have plagued the region since it began; tensions between its cultural “rurality” and its urban reliance, between the past and the future, and between conservation and access.

I learned a ton from this book, and will likely dip back into it for insights both for my own life, and for teaching. At the same time, I have a couple of minor quibbles. The first has to do with Indigenous people’s broad absence from the book. Stradling indicates early on that Native people “did make use of the Mountains” (21) but that aside from place-names, evidence of Native American occupation has long since disappeared." But given the way that Native people are romanticized as being part of nature across the United States and Canada (and especially when they are seen as “vanishing” as they are in the 19th century), I think there’s a bigger story here. James Fenimore Cooper’s writings, which Stradling heavily quotes, are loaded with references to Native People, many of whom continued to live in and visit the region; John Brushell, who was the inspiration for Chinganchicook in Cooper’s “The Pioneers”, lived in Richfield Springs, just north of Cooperstown.

I also found myself thinking about the relationship between space and place, which Stradling (through his engagement with Raymond Williams) also investigates but somewhat blithely. An analysis that was grounded in, to follow Williams putting " ideas to the historical realities, at times to be confirmed, at times denied," would examine things like the historical settlement patterns of the Catksills, looking at who lived where, and who worked where, and when. Particuarly given that Stradling makes so much of the way that market integration linked Catskill farmers to boom and bust cycles, and that the ruins they left became fodder for cultural images of wilderness, I wanted to know more about the material realities of those boom and bust cycles. One great plug for archaeology is that it forces a confrontation with the material and the tangible. Stradling’s book would have benefited from such a richer engagement, something the archaeologist April Beisaw has been doing in her work on the archaeology and heritage of the Ashokan Reservoir displacements.

All in all, this was a fascinating and thought-provoking book about how rural and urban places get co-created, and how many of the same tensions that underly urban-rural dynamics in other parts of the world played out in the creation of the “timeless” “wild” “natural” Catskill mountains.

by Quentin Lewis

Weeknotes: 5/21/23-5/27/23

This Week:

  • With my 10 year old, I finished reading “A Wrinkle in Time” by Madeline L’Engle. I had thought I had read it as a kid but I remembered very little of this incredibly strange and dark book about family, love, and the eternal struggle between good and evil as it plays out across an elaborate and bewildering universe.
  • I did lots of administrative stuff at the Museum, including some paperwork to hire some summer assistance, setting up some elementary school visits, and doing some long term exhibit and program planning.
  • I sold off a copy of Incredible Hulk #180 on Ebay. I’d had it for nearly two decades, but it was time for it to go to a new home.
  • Friday was an elementary school holiday, so my wife, son, and I painted our garage and then saw Guardians of the Galaxy 3. Both things were fun!
by Quentin Lewis

Weeknotes: 5/14/23 - 5/20/23

This Week:

  • My son turned 10, and we celebrated with presents, cake, and a scavenger hunt.
  • Because it overlapped, we celebrated an early Mother’s day last Saturday, with an indoor picnic (from inclement weather) and grilled steaks.
  • I finished reading “E.C. Comics Weird Science Fantasy Volume 1”, which compiles the first few issues of the legendary EC Comics science fiction collection. As with a lot of 50s pop culture, most of the stories are saturated with anxiety about apocalypse. The art is, of course, astonishing, vibrant, and brilliant.
  • It was finals week at Hartwick, and my students in Collections Management finished up their final projects. Then, as is typical, we had a debrief about the class and how it went, to help me plan out next year’s iteration.
  • I watched “Something in the Dirt”. It was everything I wanted and didn’t get from “Under the Silver Lake”; Los Angeles and its secret darkness, endless conspiracy unspooling to encompass the world, and the ways in which our projection of the unknowable forces of the universe is really just a placeholder for the unknowable nature of the people around us. The only problem with this otherwise fascinating film is the conceit of it being a documentary. That was a bit too cute for my tastes and made the film a bit tonally uneven. But otherwise, another feather in the cap for the weird and deeply human filmography of Benson and Moorhead.
  • I worked on some graphic design to update an unfinished exhibit display.
  • I started putting together a formal object list for another upcoming exhibit.
by Quentin Lewis

Weeknotes 5/7/23 - 5/13/23

This Week:

  • I watched The Thing from the Factory by the Field, a short teenage horror-ish movie about factory farming, the devil, and heavy metal.

  • The Yager Museum hosted a reception for graduating seniors who have worked at or taken classes in the Museum. Congrats folks!

  • In MUST204, students worked for one more week on their solo collections management projects.

  • I bought The Invisible Comes to Us by Anna and Elizabeth. One of their members is also a member of the equally weird and delightful folk group Doran, whose album I bought last year. The Invisible Comes to Us an fantastic and strange neo-folk album, held together by the titular duo’s haunting close harmonies. A good example is here, in their beautiful version of an old gospel song “Mother in the Graveyard”.

    Mother in the Graveyard

  • I finished reading Volume 1 of Resonant by DB Andry, a smart post-apocalyptic comic series about violence both hidden and inescapable and families and communities trying to survive in between.

  • I submitted some materials for people to work and intern at the Museum for the summer and the fall.

  • I did some graphic design work to improve the visual presentation of an exhibit at the Museum.

by Quentin Lewis

Weeknotes: 4/30/23 - 5/6/23

This Week:

  • I mourned the passing of my friend and mentor Bob Paynter. This also occasioned some phone and email conversations with old friends and colleagues, which, though tinged with sadness, were universally rich reconnections.
  • We welcomed Hartwick’s Board of Trustees to the Museum for their spring meeting. We also participated in their deliberations with some motions on repatriation and updating our collections policy. Finally, we hosted an alumni reception and showcased student work.
  • My students in Collections Management continued their final projects. They’re working on researching some obscure artwork, updating database descriptions, labelling objects, and cleaning mold, respectively. I also worked on finalizing the draft water disaster plan that students and I developed
  • I tried to make more progress on our new exhibit plan.
by Quentin Lewis

Colleagues, not Clones: Remembering Bob Paynter (1949-2023)

Bob Paynter was my friend, my dissertation advisor, and perhaps my most important intellectual and political mentor. He died Sunday, after a long illness.


Bob Paynter listening and teaching in Deerfield, Massachusetts, ca. 2007
Bob Paynter at the Frary House-Barnard Tavern field school, Deerfield, Massachusetts, Summer 2007

I first heard of Bob through Paul Mullins who himself died only a few weeks ago. Paul had studied at UMass Amherst, and Bob, a professor there from 1981 until his retirement in 2016, had been his dissertation advisor and collaborator. I was still a wayward undergraduate at Boston University. I had found archaeology, and loved the promise of its rich exploration of the everyday material past, but had almost no teachers and mentors with whom I felt comfortable. Mary Beaudry, who died in 2020 was the exception. I also wasn’t completely sure that I wanted or needed a PhD; inspired by the growth of public and community archaeology, I was envisioning a path that involved a master’s degree and some kind of public-facing heritage-work (which, is, somewhat ironically, where I ended up)

All the same, I convinced a friend with a car to drive me out to UMass to meet with Bob. We met in his office, which was piled with books, papers, and the delightful ephemera of a rich career. At the time I met him, he was already well into the major intellectual and scholarly projects that would define him–the exploration of race and racism in supposedly “White” rural Massachusetts, the politics of narrative as a form of explanation about the past, the relationship of landscape changes to global structural forces like capitalism, and the complexities of indigenous recognition and repatriation.

Of course, I didn’t know any of this when I sat down with this jovial, bearded guy, whose warm and friendly demeanor immediately disarmed my anxieties about the whole endeavor. I told him then that I wasn’t sure about some other programs I had visited, in that it felt like I was walking into somebody’s castle to be anointed as a squire.

Bob told me something in that room that’s always stuck with me; that what he wanted as a graduate mentor was to make colleagues, not clones. He wanted people whose intellectual and scholarly development would grow archaeology, and that growth would in turn push him to grow. These words, and Bob’s infectious enthusiasm, convinced me to join the UMass anthropology community in the Fall of 2002. I would spend the next decade there. It’s where I met the love of my life, made lifelong friends, and grew an intellectual and professional garden that has only thrived and expanded since. All of this came from Bob’s welcoming and supportive model of education, and so much of how I would get to know Bob would be through the lens of someone who treated me as a colleague from the moment I stepped into his classroom in 2002.


Bob Paynter with Stockbridge-Munsee Tribal Historic Preservation Officer Steve Comer, ca. 2003
Bob Paynter with Stockbridge-Munsee Tribal Historic Preservation Officer Steve Comer, W.E.B. Du Bois Homesite, Great Barrington, MA, Summer 2003"

This maybe a good time for an intellectual biography, at least as I came to learn it. Strap in!

Bob was an historical archaeologist, which is often glossed as the archaeological study of the spread of Europeans around the globe from the 15th-19th centuries, and which Bob referred to as the archaeology of colonization, capitalism, and conquest. Just that terminological difference should give a sense of his uniqueness and emphasis. At the time he was coming up, much of the sub-discipline was fairly descriptive rather than explanatory. James Deetz (with whom Bob had studied as an undergrad, and worked with as an interpreter at Plimoth Plantation) had intervened in this by bringing structuralist theory into the interpretation of early Euro-American material culture, but as Bob would later write, structuralism brought with it its own problems of understanding difference and inequality in the past. In short, Bob questioned whether changing cultural mind-sets and their congruence with the diffusion of stylistic traits in material things could help one understand the impact of the conquest of indigenous people, the violence of chattel slavery, or the class inequalities that were present in the earliest colonies. Another framework was necessary.

At the same time, Bob had protested the Vietnam war and been a student of the civil rights movement. The unstable and radical politics of the time saturated his thinking, and he brought that commitment to foregrounding politics into his archaeological work. Marxism was the theoretical framework he ultimately adopted, though he was never doctrinaire about what that meant–he usually referred to himself as a “Groucho Marxist”. His biggest influences came from scholars who brought Marxism to bear on other disciplines, particulary Eric Wolf and his masterful synthesis of anthropology and modes of production in “Europe and the People Without History”, or David Harvey’s close reading of the geography and spatiality of capitalism through a Marxist lens begun in “Social Justice and the City” and “The Limits to Capital”. Bob ’s early work, trying to locate seemingly isolated and bucolic rural New England into the capitalist world system, was an attempt to graft archaeological analysis of settlement patterns and landscapes into Marx’s insights about capitalist development and contradictions.

Bob Paynter excavating at the Frary House-Barnard Tavern in Deerfield, Summer 2005

But plugged into this class-focused Marxism was an abiding interest in race and African-American life. Not long after he started at UMass, a couple of professors from the W.E.B. Du Bois Department of African-American Studies wandered over with a box full of objects they had collected from the surface of “The House of the Black Burghardts” in Great Barrington, MA, the boyhood home of the legendary scholar and statesman W.E.B. Du Bois. This brief interaction began a decades long engagement with Du Bois, intellectually and historically. Bob ran archaeological field schools at the Du Bois site in 1983, 1984, and again in 2003 (where I served in my first teaching position as a very green Lab and Education Coordinator). Bob was also profoundly influenced by Du Bois’s astonishing career and scholarship, and wrote important articles about Du Bois and archaeology, and about race and archaeology more generally.

Bob Paynter talking to the Great Barrington community at the AME Zion Church about the Archaeology of the W.E.B. Du Bois homesite. On the far right is Du Bois’s adopted son David, who had just finished speaking. Summer 2003

And he was immensely supportive of African-American students in archaeology and anthropology. Two of his graduate advisees, Warren Perry and Michael Blakey, co-directed the African Burial Ground Project in New York City, arguably the most important public archaeology project of the the last 30 years, and while Bob wasn’t directly involved, his assertion that both the violent history and vibrant achievements of African-Americans deserved prominence in the past and the present sat at the heart of that project. Bob marched with Warren and Michael, along with thousands of others, down Broadway during the ancestor reburial of 2003.

The crowd, including Warren Perry, Michael Blakey, and Bob Paynter, marching down Broadway for the ancestor reburial of the African-Burial Ground in 2003
The crowd of thousands, including Warren Perry, Michael Blakey, and Bob Paynter, marching down Broadway for the ancestor reburial of the African-Burial Ground in 2003. Image courtesy of Cecelia Moore

Overall, Bob spent his career interrogating inequality in the past and the present. He wrote about the labor exploitation in cultural resource management archaeology, the state of research in the origins and durability of inequality in the distant and recent past, and the political implications of different kinds of historical narratives. He also combined this scholarly commitment with support for historically marginalized groups. He worked tirelessly helping UMass and the Five Colleges in a difficult and messy repatriation of Indigenous human remains, even when this involved Indigenous groups who were not federally recognized.

Bob Paynter and Students listening to Afro-Cherokee scholar Ron Welburn, ca. 2005
Bob Paynter and Students listening to Afro-Cherokee scholar Ron Welburn, ca. 2005

What made Bob so special is that he was committed to making sure that his students didn’t memorize his accomplishments and interests to succeed (though, as you can see from my post, many of us did!) He truly lived out the words that he said to me in his cluttered office that spring in 2002 to try and become his colleague–no easy task. Even as I worked on various archaeology projects in Historic Deerfield, a place he spent a lot of research time, he always encouraged me to bring my own perspective and spin on things, and to push beyond what he had done.

Bob surrounded by generations of colleagues, ca. 2020
Bob and his Colleagues, some of whom started as students ca. 2020. Top: Martin Wobst, Jim Delle, Claire Carlson, Randy McGuire, Warren Perry, Jim Moore, Whitney Battle-Baptiste, Jonathan Hill, Broughton Anderson, Steve Lacy, Anthony Martin, Paul Mullins. Bottom: Mike Nassaney, Bob Paynter, Tom Patterson

And he did this even as he was a rich and charismatic teacher in his own right. Year after year, he taught Introduction to Anthropology, a course that was specifically designed for non-majors to fulfil general education requirements. But rather than seeing this as a chore or an extraneous task, Bob relished the opportunity to teach people what Anthropology has learned about the world–that human cultural variation is vast but understandable, that human biological variation is minimal and the taken-for-granted categories we frequently rely on (especially race) are fictions either convenient or malevolent, and finally that culture, which we make together, is an adaptive niche unto itself. His lectures in that course were enthusiastic, humorous, and provocative. I have ripped off, almost whole-cloth, his lecture on the origins of Christmas in that class, boisterous singing and all.

So many of the beautiful memories I have of him grew out of this fundamental interpersonal ethic–that anyone you meet has the potential to teach you, and thereby to change you. I remember joyful conversations in his office, his car on a welcome ride home, in his backyard, trading new discoveries in fiction (he and I both loved science-fiction and fantasy) or music (he was a lifelong fan of Jazz and a trumpet player of some skill) or the day-to-day of US politics (we spent a cold but wonderful afternoon driving New Hampshire voters to the polls in November of 2008).

And now he’s gone, and all of us who studied with him, worked with him, talked with him, argued with him; all of us have to learn how to live up to the standard that he set, to become the colleagues he always believed and supported us to be.

To think and live as though the past is not something gone, but alive and potent in everything we do, and any future we may make

To center politics, struggle and questions of inequality in any scholarly or intellectual endeavor

To refuse dogma in favor of curiosity and the possibility of explanation

To treat everyone around us as a potential teacher


I’m going to miss my friend so very much. I’ll miss his spirit, his sharp and clever mind, his support, and his exuberant laugh.

Rest in peace and in power, Bob Paynter

Bob Paynter (right) treating me (green hat), and two undergraduate field school students as colleagues, Deerfield, summer 2005
by Quentin Lewis

Weeknotes: 04/23/23-04/29/23

This Week:

  • Most of my week was spent caring for or worrying about sick family members. We’re all a bit under the weather from something, though some of us more than others. Both kids were home from school for at least a day at some point this week, but everyone seems to be on the mend now that the week is ending
  • If all goes as planned, I’m going to de-install “Hybrid: The Kiva Show” on Saturday. This wonderful show, by Jason Medicine Eagle Martinez has been a wildly popular and exciting show here at the Museum for the last six months. I’m sorry to see it go down, but I hope we will be able to do more exciting contemporary indigenous art shows in the future. The image above is from this show, and hopefully we’re going to be acquiring a few pieces from Jason for our permanent collection.
  • In MUST204, my students have been working on their final projects, including improving catalog descriptions, researching unusual prints, object labelling, and mold cleaning.
  • I’ve been trying to finish up the plan for our new archaeology exhibit, and got some good notes from some colleagues this week to help out.
  • Still working on repatriation grants.
  • The Museum welcomed the Hartwick Jazz combo for a live performance.
  • I did a little work on this website adding a books section that will (hopefully) be a record of books I read and have read, along with my thoughts on them.