I Am an Archaeologist Madonna L. Moss   Suemez Island, photo by M. Moss

Moss & Erlandsons Canoeing on South Slough, Coos Bay; photo by M. Tveskov

My route into the field of archaeology started when I was growing up in the suburbs of Syracuse, New York. My father was in the construction business, and it seemed that every time we traveled on a family trip, we always had to stop along the way and check out one or more of his "sites." These visits to my father's job sites always entailed looking at huge holes in the ground dug by heavy equipment. While my father concentrated on whether the concrete was being prepared and poured correctly, I was fascinated by looking at the layers in the earth. I wondered what stories these newly exposed but so recently hidden layers might tell. In retrospect, some of these deposits probably did contain archaeological materials. At the time, however, people would never have conceived of the possibility that construction on private land might be preceded by looking for-- and possibly protecting-- an archaeological site.

One of my favorite subjects in junior high school was earth history, and I remember my delight in washing rocks during laboratory class. I don't even recall why we were washing rocks, probably as a prelude to examining their attributes to identify their types. At the time, washing rocks seemed both absurd and fun--- and I still get pleasure doing things that many of my friends and relatives consider somewhat inane (or insane). I still genuinely enjoy many of the seemingly mundane aspects of field and laboratory labor, including sorting materials from screens, washing archaeological materials (not only of stone), identifying animal bones, and even salvaging animal carcasses for our University of Oregon comparative collection.

I went to the College of William and Mary hoping to be a geology or physics major. But I'd had one anthropology course in high school, so I signed up for more in college. I did well in the introductory class, and my professor, Dr. Theodore Reinhart, invited me to be his lab assistant. I began doing bibliographic work for him, and later progressed to washing and labeling projectile points. On weekends, he generously included me among a group of students he would take on test excavations. I worked first at the Paleoindian Williamson site where I found an interesting stone tool the first day. I remember showing it to Dr. Reinhart--- he carefully inspected it and pronounced it an"exhausted core" and then explained to me what that meant. I was so impressed by the stories archaeologists could tell! I decided to be an anthropology major, and became more and more interested in the pursuit of understanding the past.

The seeds were sown for a pivotal experience when I saw a film in Dr. Reinhart's North American Prehistory class about the Ozette archaeological project. On the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State, Professor Richard Daugherty and Washington State University archaeologists were working with the Makah Indian Tribe to salvage the remains of a well-preserved whaling village. I wrote Dr. Daugherty and applied to the WSU field school and had the time of my life. I had never traveled to the Pacific Northwest before and I was stunned by the beauty of the landscape and the Native American history of the region. Although I had visited the Northwest Coast Indian art collection at the American Museum of Natural History in New York City, being in the Northwest gave me a glimpse of what this art might really be about.

I made several Makah friends that summer I turned 20, and working alongside them in the field gave me a window of understanding into the history of their tribe and the genius of their cultural traditions. I consider myself extremely fortunate to have been associated with the Ozette project, because this experience provided me with an excellent model of the potential of archaeology to help empower a people who had survived hundreds of years of injustices. WSU archaeologists pioneered genuine collaboration with the Makahs at Ozette. Today's Makah Cultural and Research Center stands as a testament to the survival of Makah culture and the potential of archaeology to contribute information of lasting significance to Indian Tribes. I left Ozette that summer of 1974 knowing that: 1) I wanted to live and work in the Pacific Northwest, 2) I wanted to learn everything I could about the Indian Tribes of the Northwest Coast, and that 3) archaeologists could work with indigenous communities to address vital social needs.

I began graduate school at the University of California, Santa Barbara, in 1976, but grew impatient in the classroom. I felt somewhat out of place reading de Laguna's works about the Tlingit of Southeast Alaska in sunny southern California. On a whim, I took the civil service exam, and was offered a job with the Tongass National Forest as an archaeological trainee stationed in Juneau, Alaska. Although my course background had not included much in the way of ethnography or history, through my experiences living and working in southeast Alaska, I soon recognized the importance of these subjects. Tlingit people are strongly visible, culturally and politically in Alaska. I have been privileged to work with Tlingit women and men, elders, middle-aged, and young. Initially, I worked with Tlingit people as an aid to archaeological research, in trying to identify the locations of abandoned towns, villages, camps, fishing weirs, and forts. I documented Tlingit place names, and I gathered subsistence information-- about how the landscape, coastal waters, plant and animals were used. But I became drawn to the Tlingit way of looking at and experiencing the world, recognizing these were very different than my own ways. The Tlingit people I have met are truly impressive in many ways, including the depth of their intellectual traditions, which an outsider like myself can only partially appreciate.

My publications tell much of the rest of the story. I have now worked in Southeast Alaska over a period of more than 20 years. In recent years, my husband, Jon Erlandson, and I have enjoyed the privilege of working with some of the Oregon Coast Indian tribes, and I've gotten to study the archaeology of the southern end of the Northwest Coast. I anticipate working on the Northwest Coast for the rest of my professional career. The histories and cultures of this region are rich and complex and could sustain many lifetimes of study.

I am interested in the 10,000 year long history of the peoples of the entire Northwest Coast region. My work is grounded in ecological archaeology; reconstructing the history of changes in Northwest Coast physical environments and ecosystems is a prerequisite for understanding human history. I approach archaeological questions using regional data, as opposed to focusing on single sites. I am interested in culture change and the processes and results of colonization, with particular attention to gender as a key analytical category. I am strongly committed to collaborative archaeological work with Native Americans. All across North America, such cooperative work is energizing archaeology and opening up new theoretical and epistemological frameworks for studying, interpreting, and writing about the past. I also strongly believe that archaeology is one of the tools we can use to fight racism, and in some cases, restore the rights of Indian Tribes.

At present, some anthropologists are struggling to define the field of archaeology as either one of the sciences or one of the humanities. I agree with those who recognize anthropology as one of the most productive and scientific of all disciplines, natural and social. At the same time, anthropology continues to be humanistic, although more self-consciously so in recent years. In my research and teaching, I attempt to show how anthropology can encompass the best of both poles of this unfortunate dichotomy. Archaeology is enriched by both traditions since we can collect and analyze a wide range of data using new technologies at the same time that we realize how an individual researcher's theoretical, cultural, and institutional orientation influences the questions asked, the "answers" developed, and "prehistories" written. Trends in archaeology I have focused on include acknowledging the diversity of experiences represented by individuals of different genders, classes, or factions within a society, a re-emphasis on historical processes, attempts to approach symbolic aspects of material culture and behavior, and a deeper appreciation for the intellectual and historical value of indigenous knowledge.

These days, our nine year old son experiences occasional impatience when we visit the coast, because Mom and Dad always want to stop to check out sites. Erik knows that these sites are archaeological, and he knows how to recognize a shell midden when he sees one. Occasionally, though, he would prefer to simply play on the beach. Another reason I am an archaeologist relates to my love of the outdoors, of physical environments. By visiting the sites where people lived and worked long ago, I am able to imagine their cultural landscape, and something of their lives. While this is a subject of academic scholarship, it is also something that feeds my soul--- I am allowed to imagine a life without telephones, Fax machines, and email, a life certainly without webpages! A life traveling by foot or canoe, a life spent fishing and gathering and cooking. So I will end this essay here. I hope it has given you some sense of me as a person, and as an archaeologist.