Progress Report Assignment
This post just consists of a final paper written first semester of my MA at Saint Mary’s University. The paper reflects on and relates my research to Progress Reports in Progress in Human Geography and Progress in Physical Geography. The primary goal of the paper is to begin to define the theoretical approach of the research as it relates to current developments in the field. It’s incredible how much archaeology that can be found in these geography journals! Enjoy!
Browsing progress reports within Progress in Human Geography and Progress in Physical Geography gives a reader understanding of current developments in the discipline of Geography. Intersecting the subdisciplines of physical and human geography my research involves two areas of archaeological research. The first, an assessment of the utility of ground penetrating radar (GPR), LiDAR, and remotely piloted aircraft (RPA) technologies for understanding the Holocene evolution of coastal dyked landscapes. Secondly, re-interpreting archaeological data at the Melanson Village site (Nash & Stewart 1990) along the Gasperaux River in order to contextualize the story of human occupation prior to the Maritime Marshland Rehabilitation Administration (MMRA). Building on the above two statements, considering the archival, ecological, ethnographic, and geographic histories of past intertidal landscapes on the Gaspereaux river valley in the context of their archaeological data using GIS, remote sensing, and computer vision is the general research topic.
Choosing progress reports broadly relevant to my research unveils a remarkably large degree of cross-over subject matter between Archaeology and Historical Geography often not represented at an institutional level. Surprisingly, considering the intimate relationship with dirt held by archaeologists and physical geographers alike, recent articles in Progress in Physical Geography provided but few relevant progress reports. Relevant topics on remote sensing applications, anthropogenic impacts to landscape, or archaeological evidence as proxy data for understanding past landscapes were few and far between, their ends were infrequently related to humans. For these reasons, I am selecting only progress reports from Progress in Human Geography as the subjects for the following paper: Cartography/Mapping (Dodge 2017, 2018), Historical Geography (Offen 2012, 2013, 2014), and a second Historical Geography (McGeachen 2014, 2018, 2019).
Dodge’s collection happens to switch titles from cartography to mapping from the first to second report (Dodge 2017, 2018). The first report is focusing on the subject of unlocking value in historic cartography and new visualization techniques for communicating geographies of the past through “so-called ‘deep-maps’” (Dodge 2017, p. 89). Dodge’s second report (2018) focuses on applications focusing on more contemporary subject matter: maps in the media (p. 949), geovisualizations and digital geographies (p. 950), and visualization techniques from 3D GIS to satellites, drones, and Google Street View (p. 952). The collection is engaging in that it employs framing that is easily translated into inspiration. Even in his criticism of how ‘deep maps’ are failing at one intended function of communicating place-based information and understandings Dodge is careful and fair in his treatment. If identification of weakness in Dodge’s collection was forced, I may cite the change in title between reports that made it hard to locate the second report in the collection. This may, however, be a clever and subtle differentiation of the concepts of cartography and mapping in Dodge’s eyes.
Modern geovisualization techniques and applications offer up a range of topics broadly relating to my research from making use of historic cartographies to geovisualization and communication of geographic information. However, I chose Dodge’s collection not because of the applications of new geovisualization techniques for contextualization of past human landscapes or unlocking the value in historic cartography. However integral both are to my research. Dodge’s collection references a novel use of computer vision techniques in “automated detection of environmental characteristics of place” (2018, p. 955) employed by Naik et al. (2017).
2.1 Computer Vision and Urban Change
Dodge’s collection of progress reports on cartography and mapping devotes a short section to the article by Naik et al. (2017) applying computer vision to measure street change, taking those results and calculating the ‘Streetscore’ (p. 7571) or perceived safety of a neighbourhood. The applications by Naik et al. (2017) are debatably moral and are a great example of poor framing of a valuable question. Dodge gives the article it’s due credit for novelty and scope of the project then follows it up in criticizing the ends of the project (2018, p. 955-6). The self-described significance of the project is that “computer vision techniques, in combination with traditional methods, can be used to explore the dynamics of urban change” (Naik et al. 2017, p. 7571). There is no doubt that the application is noteworthy, and the development of an algorithm for automated classification of urban environments opens many doors from research to marketing to policy. Conversely if applied to benefit commercial interests, an algorithm like this can close many doors. Any utilization of masses of publicly available human perspective imagery has the potential to preserve and intensify institutional racism and other latent social inequalities. The application by Naik et al. (2017) does so by categorizing lower class neighbourhoods as invariably unsafe due to aesthetics, which can derive from economics rather than criminality. Diachronic modern urban landscapes are not a large interest for me in terms of research, though the field of computer vision and its applications are highly related to my thesis research.
Computer vision (CV) is an interdisciplinary field of research devoted to “extract[ing] meaning from pixels” (Singh, 2019). The application of CV by Naik et al. (2017) involves classification of environmental characteristics from pixels in photography, while the application I intend to use is focused on automatically extracting 2D surface area of archaeological materials from photography. The application will use computer vision to extract a lesser utilized quantity for archaeological analysis. The script used has been modified from a Python tutorial on measuring the x, and y dimensions of multiple objects in an image and displaying the results (PyImageSearch 2016). Additionally, the resulting tool extracts 2D surface area from multiple objects in an image (Figure 1) and saves the data to a CSV. Results can be appended to artifact locational data for use in geospatial analysis.
Figure 1: Visualization of a measurement of one object (flake) in an image of lithic flakes from flintknapping. The process iterates every object in the image from left to right. A known object (Canadian quarter = 2.381cm) is placed furthest left in the image to convert subsequent measurements from pixels to cm.
The number of mundane processes automated using computational methods is growing as computation devices become more socially ubiquitous. Like all studies of the past, Archaeology is experiencing fewer direct benefits from this development than contemporary studies where the internet is facilitating the production of masses of relevant data. Archaeology and other studies of the past may be waiting until knowledge of the skills involved in computational methods becomes commonplace in society. As computer programming is now being taught in Nova Scotian schools up to grade 6 since 2017 (Julie, 2017), general knowledge of computer programming will likely be routine in future academic research.
The second collection of progress reports examined are authored by Cheryl McGeachen, a lecturer in Human Geography at the University of Glasgow. Her collection is focusing on a theme of ‘dark histories’ bringing critical approaches to studies of past people. The first in the collection “Historical Geography I: What remains?” (McGeachan 2014) brings the importance of scale in relation to research objectives through the concept of ‘historical distance’ (p. 825). McGeachen then trifurcates the concept into examples that highlight the diversity of scales to be cognizant of in historical research using landscape scale battlefield and the relationships between individual bodies in producing battlefield memory scapes (p. 826), the psyche level scale of those affected by war and the relationship between trauma and institutional scale reactions (p. 828), finishing with a critical focus on the interplay of memory and memorialization (p. 830). The second piece in McGeachen’s collection “Historical Geography II: Traces remain” (2018) is an answer to the question posed in the title of the first: What remains? Here McGeachen explores methods to highlight the issues that historical diversities pose to historical research by presenting multiple framings of history and focusing on the biographical lived experience rather than only actions (p. 136), the ability of historical researchers to accurately engage or understand a life in full through only traces, and finally a discussion about the ethical questions of when narratives of the dying and dead are appropriate and how (p. 141). Lastly, McGeachan’s “Historical Geography III: Hope persists” (2019) uses the “intersections between historical geography, archaeology and the law” (p. 351) to encourage more interplay between historical geography and archaeology, not only in contemporary legally implicated scenarios, but on every possible front. The report begins with an explanation of the intersections of archaeology and historical geography (p. 352). The intersections of archaeology and historical geography are then used as a single unit in the discussions that follow. This intersection is used to contextualize how modern historical climatology is being practiced, how archaeology and historical geography resurface and examine dark histories as a means for “disrupt[ing] and unsettle[-ing] understandings of time, place and self” (p. 356). The last intersection examined by McGeachan (2019) is that which connects both previous topics to “Legal worlds” (p.357).
McGeachan’s collection of progress reports on historical geography are artful in their constitution, yet critical in their assessments of practice and application. Though not quite reading like a series, the titles of works in the collection give the reader a sense that historical geographers and historical researchers alike should be aware of the interplay between different academic disciplines and their applications to contemporary issues. McGeachan’s question of “What remains?” (2014) bleeds well into the answer in the 2018 title “[t]races remain” in historical geography. The final report lets historical geographers see that “[h]ope persists” (McGeachan 2019) in flushing out intersections and common ground in subject matter between historical geography and archaeology. The only issue I can take with this collection of progress reports comes from the lack of acknowledgement of the applications of archaeological understandings to contextualizing and humanizing temporally deep histories. McGeachan could have approached this intersection in discussing the dark histories of “[b]odies and battlefields” (2014, p. 826). It should be noted though, that the inclusion of an example so divergent from the more contemporary subject matter may have been a seemingly undesirable digression. Therefore, little criticism can be given to McGeachan for that omission.
3.1 Strange Bedfellows?
Lisa J. Hill (2015) invites geographers to contemplate how “archaeological ways of doing” (p. 424) can enrich geographical research, particularly cultural geography. The article is highlighting the lack of communication between the disciplines as an opportunity for future growth and collaboration. Beginning with the first sentence, Hill (2015) grabs my attention by prefacing the discussion noting her frequent astonishment of “the lack of interaction and dialogue between archaeology and human geography ─ particularly when it comes to theoretical debate” (p. 412). The lack of cross-disciplinary communication regarding theoretical frameworks is a question I’ve often pondered myself, frequently and fortuitously leading to criticisms of institutional structures rather than engagement with cultural geographical theory and practice. Admitting her review to be selective by nature to fit in the provided space, Hill still packs a lot of material into the article focusing on time (p. 419) and matter (p. 416), the disciplinary place of contemporary archaeology (p. 414), a criticism of the sanitized results uncareful archaeology delivers (p. 422), and finally a conclusion presenting how the “archaeological imagination” (p. 425) or archaeological approaches can open up new directions in cultural geography.
Delivering her thoughts to an audience of geographers makes this article no less relatable to an archeological researcher wishing to apply human geographical ‘imaginations’ to archaeological issues. In fact for an archaeologist, digging for hidden disciplinary relationships and opportunities for archaeological inquiry in Hill’s (2015) article feels akin to the archaeological imagination. This can be explained metaphorically: an archaeologist excavates a trove of material culture (Hill’s article) embedded in both discrete localized physical features (practical intersections between geography and archaeology), and a larger landscape (theoretical intersections of geography and archaeology). The material culture (Hill’s article) is analyzed within both contexts (practical and theoretical) together with an incomplete historical narrative relaying only one perspective (applications of archaeology to enrich geography) to uncover implicit layers of meaning (applications of geography to enrich archaeology). Both in metaphorical and literal terms, the question is: how to understand the implicit meanings? Archaeologist’s understand these answers are never direct and will likely not reveal themselves so simply to a sleuth of only standardized techniques and metric evaluations. It is nevertheless important for the archaeologist to carefully employ their data in developing contextual understandings of how material and immaterial characteristics of the archaeology relate to themselves and the broader past. In the following, I attempt to pull geographical understandings from Hill’s article to present opportunity for my own archaeological research.
In a Canadian context Hill’s assertion that “utilizing a whole range of sources and techniques … from archival records to ethnography” (2015, p. 415) makes contemporary archaeology unique is a bit misleading. It is understandable however, contextualized in the United Kingdom where anthropology and archaeology are distinctive disciplines. Canadian archaeology is part of a ‘four pillars’ system in anthropology consisting of archaeology, biological anthropology, linguistic anthropology, and socio-cultural anthropology. Anthropological ‘training’ outside of archaeology is a large part of an undergraduate for many archaeologists in Canada; therefore, making use of ethnography and/or archival material becomes part of routine interaction with the past. It is clear that the place of contemporary archaeology in society varies by location, making specific examples in Hill’s (2015) remarks about contemporary archaeology seem less relevant to Canadian readers.
The concepts of “material culture, matter, and materiality” are deservedly treated to an introduction broadly covering the development of modern archaeological theory (Hill 2015, p. 416). Unfortunately, the treatment is not placed in the broader academic context until after the story of archaeological theory development on approaching “rematerialization” (Hill 2015, p. 417). I did not appreciate, before Hill’s reference (2015, p. 418), developments in archaeological theory following Chris Tilly’s (1994) publication A Phenomenology of Landscape. A balance between, or situational applications of phenomenology and “symmetrical archaeology” (Hill 2015, 419) is a concept that seems second nature to me. Whether this be a product of generation or my individual ignorance of recent developments in archaeological theory, the materiality discussion by Hill (2015) is largely relevant to my own research. In contextualizing material culture in space and time, on past landscapes, I will be taking a phenomenological approach in mapping and identifying patterns of distribution in archaeological materials. While approaching these phenomena with an understanding that more than one ontological lens is required for richer results in contextualization, it could be said that symmetrical archaeology is being applied. Discussing symmetrical archaeology is where Hill’s pinning of the two approaches to material culture (2015, p. 419) in an ‘asymmetric dualism’ (p 418) is slightly ironic. Symmetrical archaeology aims to move away from dualisms (Hill 2015, p. 418), yet uses a dualism in her framing of it in opposition with phenomenological approaches to materiality.
The subsequent sections in Hill’s (2015) article cover the archaeological concept of time (p. 419) along with absence and presence in archaeological methods. The former being presented in the same format as the discussion on materiality, describing the conceptual development of time in archaeological research then intersecting the concept with human geography. The latter is a synthesis of the two prior discussions using Derrida’s (1994) concept of spectrality and an application of it to archaeology. The need to identify and examine past traces of humanity absent in archaeological and historical records is necessary if an archaeologist or historical geographer, it will only enrich the research outcomes. I feel though, that spectrality only complicates the communication of the idea here.
HIll (2015) commences concluding the article reminding readers she is “advocating greater cross-disciplinary collaboration” as her critical and detailed approach to archaeological concepts of materiality, time, and spectrality may divert attention from the relatively short references to cross-disciplinary interests, collaboration, and dialogue at the end of each section. Presenting three possible cross-disciplinary lines of inquiry, though I may argue after reading the article (HIll 2015) along with progress reports on Historical Geography (McGeachan 2014, 2018, 2019) that these three examples only scratch the surface of cross-disciplinary joint research initiatives for geography and archaeology.
The third and final collection of progress reports examined here is another on historical geography, though quite different than those put forth by McGeachan (2014, 2018, 2019). The final collection is authored by Karl Offen working out of the University of Oklahoma with a subtitle sequence following “Historical geography [I/II/III]:” of vital traditions (2012), digital imaginations (2013), and climate matters (2014). Offen covers broad subject matter of importance in relation to historical geography and in contrast to McGeachan (2014, 2018, 2019) all works were written more than five years ago making the analytical experience more reflective.
Offen uses the first section in vital traditions (2012) to examine the place of historic maps and cartography in past and contemporary social issues. Here, Offen (2012) is focusing on race relations expressed through cartography, particularly in Latin American contexts. The ensuing section covers geographies of knowledge, or the ways in which knowledge relations geographically exist (p. 530). In this section Offen questions the degree to which historic geographies are “subject to their own geographies” (p. 530). By this Offen is touching on the subject of untold geographies as Hill (2015) does in her questioning of what traces archaeological materials render absent from its record. Offen then spends the last body section of the report highlighting recent works on society-nature relationships in the past. A type of study that parallels what I have heard called landscape ethnoecology in archaeological circles. The first report is a good high-level introduction into some subject matter that historical geography covers. Offen’s reports that follow (2013, 2014) relate closer to my research as an archaeologist, as they cover some more practical ways to analyze and communicate results.
Offen’s (2013) “Historic geography II: Digital imaginations” is the reason that I chose to cover this collection of progress reports. The subject matter of digital representations of historic research (p. 566), the impact of ‘the digital’ on humanities research concepts (568), and a selection of digital mediums facilitating deeper conceptual engagement with spatial information (p. 569). Though highlighting many concepts lying close to my research, this article brings forth the subject for the following critical analysis: Historical GIS (HGIS) (p. 568). The section on HGIS is short yet brings forward relevant information by way of showing how much has changed since 2014. One of the main ways the article illustrates its age is in the nomenclature of HGIS. It is a term I have not heard in likely a few years now. One possible reason for not encountering the term could be that I have not been exposed to it; however, over the past four or five years that my research has become more closely involved in GIS, my encounters with the term have dwindled. It is likely that such a term is representative of a faddism employed to attempt to sway more historical researchers into GIS. If true, the faddism must have accomplished its goal, as it is no longer necessary. After presenting forms of visualization media, Offen (2015, p. 572) asks in closing “do we let the masters of digital technologies and the forces pushing them usurp or define historical geography going forward, or do we bring our own traditions and digital imaginations to the table”? I believe that the answer lies in the business plan of the “masters of digital technologies” (p. 572) as, when their product is being frequently applied for any use, digital companies are more easily able to adapt to new requests, as upgrades to digital tools are easier to roll-out than for their physical counterparts.
The paper concludes with Offen pushing for researchers to not make new technologies redefine previously defined methods by bringing new tools to the conceptual playground (2013, p. 572). The framing Offen chooses in describing the adaptation of historical geography to new technologies seems ignorant to the concept and truth that computer technologies work for the researcher, and only in the ways the researcher directs it to. This perspective fails to identify that opportunity for researchers to allow computer technologies to expose biases in whimsical classifications of phenomena and materials. A relevant example that comes to mind in archaeology is artifact typologies, specifically lithics. At of the time of writing a three-day old blog article at Medium.com tackles the issue of lithic typologies in describing how Projectile Point Typologies Are A Hot Mess (Inquiries, 2019). Not mentioned are how computers may help in redefining typologies that were previously regional or even more mind-boggling, site specific variants. I disagree with Offen in thinking that technological tools are restrictive as his tone suggests. In contrast, I believe that computational tools stand alone in being able to illuminate human biases in research when they are deeply entrenched in and accepted by the field.
Offen’s third article (2014) entitled “Historical geography III: Climate matters” challenges historical researchers to engage more fully with how climate impacts lived histories (p. 479), examine how climate is represented in society (p. 480), and to be cognisant of how social and historical contexts shape public discourse on climate science (p. 483). As much as the subject matter is of interest to my research, such as the importance of toponyms in documenting dynamic or processual characteristics of climate (p. 484), the article is less relatable in the overall narrative it provides. My research, however interwound with climate and landscape, is not so much an effort to bring discussions of climate change into public discussion as it is an effort to more holistically understand the deep past of the Bay of Fundy. In this way, the final article by Offen (2014) falls short of providing the applications necessary for me to relate the article directly to my research.
4.1 HGIS or GIS Application?
As previouslt mentioned, the second article by Offen (2013) briefly introduces HGIS as a standalone approach rather than an extension of GIS into the realm of historical research. There is no inherent difference between HGIS and GIS, the tool will have the exact same functions whether or not the data is indeed ‘historical’. I have chosen a how-to book entitled Historical GIS: Technologies, Methodologies, and Scholarship (Gregory & Ell 2007) for my final critical analysis of this paper. A book may seem like an odd analysis to focus on in such a short paper as this, but the how-to nature and the aged subject matter make a publication of this length easier to analyze in brief.
The book starts out with an overview of what HGIS actually is, and although I tend to disagree that it be defined as its own subfield within geography or GIS, the authors eloquently describe the nature of not only historical GIS but any specific application of GIS. Gregory and Ell (2001, p. 1) explain that the most important questions to bring to a GIS software is not about the analysis, but what the data actually represents, and what it can be used to measure in its context. This ultimately speaks to the nature of GIS in any research endeavour. Following this, the book does the expected in providing a general overview of GIS and how it represents the earth’s surface.
Gregory and Ell (2007) then examine topics ranging from “Building historical GIS ddatabases” (p. 21), dealing with historical data in GIS (p. 63), visualization (p. 89), time (p. 119), data retrieval (p. 145), analysis (p. 161), and applications (p. 183) in the books following sections. In many ways, the book can be viewed as a historical document in its own right. The subject matter, softwares, and understandings reflect a time before hope for rapid historical data acquisition was presented by the widespread use of neural networks in automating handwritten text transcription, and apparently, as noted by Retsima (2008, p. 173) in a review contemporary to the writing, when “[t]he 3 ½” floppy disc is currently becoming obsolete”. This review provides an overview of the “datedness” (p. 174) of the concepts in the text, even upon release. Although giving credit to the authors for its ability to meet “its objectives and the needs of the audience” (Retsima 2008, p. 174) the review is critical throughout of the dated material in the book.
Dated material aside, the book goes into deep enough detail to deliver fundamental nuances of historical data within GIS when describing the use of a “gazeteer” (Gregory & Ell 2007, 56) to standardize vernacular spellings, errors in digitization (p. 46), and how to handle error in GIS (p. 82). The book overall is a beneficial text for a reader looking to gain a deep enough understanding of GIS to begin to self-educate about the topic. I chose this publication, not because it is an easy target for criticism, but for a reason connected to my own research. The reason being, the intimate relationship HGIS holds with my own archaeological research. I anticipate that much of my research data will be digitized and housed in a GIS based database. Whether truly historic documents or digitizing and cataloguing archaeological data for analysis, GIS will be fundamental in organizing and analyzing many aspects of my research.
To illustrate this point, I will make a connection between HGIS, the archaeological archive, and the my research. The topics of data digitization and visualization are areas which archaeology could do a better job at engaging with. Too often, the allure of locating a ‘new’ site, or excavating an irreplaceable part of the human story are glorified as the objective in archaeology. In an age so deeply rooted in the digital, archaeology has yet to embrace the benefits that digitization can provide. From visualizations to data synthesis projects, the digital age brings many new opportunities. In my research, GIS will play a fundamental role in revisiting past archaeological records from Melanson (Nash & Stewart 1990). Digitization of old data liberates the information in the archaeological record, opening it up to new analyses. By revisiting archaeological records of the past using new techniques, patterns not visualized in the past can be shown in interesting and informative ways. Figure 2 shows density distributions of artifacts per unit area in an excavation from the 1960s.
Figure 2: Artifact density analysis on one excavation unit from George MacDonald’s 1960s excavations. Modified from: MacDonald 1965.
The benefit that such applications have to archaeological research are largely in the ability of up and coming archaeologists to revisit excavations with new theoretical perspectives and questions. It is common knowledge that a person undertaking a stationary activity is likely to not have any detritus from the activity land directly below themselves. In this same line of thought, if artifacts are assumed to be dropped or placed in contexts relative to the people interacting with them, then the space between artifacts is the most likely place for a human to occupy when performing an activity. Relooking at Figure 2, now reveals itself not only as a visualization of the density of artifacts in an excavation, but a representation of the human actions that resulted in the artifacts being deposited. It may well be considered that the southeastern hearth in Figure 2 shows evidence of people huddling around it for warmth, storytelling, or in celebration during a meal in the midst of the Younger Dryas in Cobequid. New questions asked of old data can begin to humanize the deep past in ways previously impossible. It is for these reasons that I believe GIS and what is known as HGIS are integral to my research.
This exercise in familiarizing myself and my research to recent developments and progress in geography has given me a chance to understand many of the conceptual overlaps exist. Firstly, I had assumed that physical geography in its out-in-the-field dirty nature would have provided many more reports applicable to my research than I encountered. My surprise, however, is apparently not shared by historical geographers who seem to be well in tune with the cross-over of these practices (e.g.: Dodge 2017, 2018; Hill, 2015; McGeachan 2014, 2018, 2019; Offen 2012, 2013, 2014). These progress reports have clarified the modern position of geography in relation to archaeology to me and aided in connecting much of the content encountered in this course.
From concerns about what traces archaeological methods omit (Hill 2015), to cross-disciplinary topics of research interest, historical mapping and mapping history, the progress report synthesis has provided much in the way of usable subject matter in my research. The project forced me to consider readings from the course as well. Derrida and poststructuralism were revisited on the topic of sprectrality (1994), the quantitative side of human geography was grappled with, and the core of geography and disciplinary boundaries were touched upon relatively frequently.
Though being the only analysis without an image, Lisa Hill’s (2015) article on archaeology and historical geography is the one article that stands out above the rest for relatability to my thesis. Encountering geographic and archaeological theory in the same work enriches the ability for researchers to spot the cross-over in these disciplines. The concept of materiality, time and the considerations attached to both are valuable insights to reflect upon as I begin to design my research in a more formal sense. The result of this paper increases my geographical literacy in terms of jargon, but the weekly readings may also be to thank in part.
In closing I must note ─ the geographer and historian seem to no longer be opposing forces, poststructuralism is alive and well in geography, Marxism still makes its impact, and hand-wringing is no less of a trait of historic geographers as it is of historical geographers.
Derrida J. (1994). Spectres of Marx, translated by Kamuf P. London: Routledge
Dodge, M. (2017). Cartography I: Mapping deeply, mapping the past. Progress in Human Geography, 41(1), 89–98. https://doi.org/10.1177/0309132516656431
Dodge, M. (2018). Mapping II: News media mapping, new mediated geovisualities, mapping and verticality. Progress in Human Geography, 42(6), 949–958. https://doi.org/10.1177/0309132517733086
Hill, L. J. (2015). Human geography and archaeology: Strange bedfellows? Progress in Human Geography, 39(4), 412–431. https://doi.org/10.1177/0309132514521482
Inquiries, A. (2019, December 12). Projectile Point Typologies Are A Hot Mess. Medium website: https://medium.com/cultural-resource-management/projectile-point-typologies-are-a-hot-mess-9102dc331b33
McGeachan, C. (2014). Historical geography I: What remains? Progress in Human Geography, 38(6), 824–837. https://doi.org/10.1177/0309132514546449
McGeachan, C. (2018). Historical geography II: Traces remain. Progress in Human Geography, 42(1), 134–147. https://doi.org/10.1177/0309132516651762
McGeachan, C. (2019). Historical geography III: Hope persists. Progress in Human Geography, 43(2), 351–362. </span><span style=’font-size:12.0pt;line-height: https://doi.org/10.1177/0309132517740481</span>
Naik, N., Kominers, S. D., Raskar, R., Glaeser, E. L., & Hidalgo, C. A. (2017). Computer vision uncovers predictors of physical urban change. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, 114(29), 7571–7576. https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1619003114
Nash, R. J., & Stewart, F. L. (1990). Melanson: A large Micmac village in Kings County, Nova Scotia. Nova Scotia Museum, (0). https://ojs.library.dal.ca/NSM/article/view/4062
Offen, K. (2012). Historical geography I: Vital traditions. Progress in Human Geography, 36(4), 527–540. https://doi.org/10.1177/0309132511417964
Offen, K. (2013). Historical geography II: Digital imaginations. Progress in Human Geography, 37(4), 564–577. https://doi.org/10.1177/0309132512462807
Offen, K. (2014). Historical geography III: Climate matters. Progress in Human Geography, 38(3), 476–489. https://doi.org/10.1177/0309132513501429
Reitsma, F. (2008). Historical GIS: Technologies, methodologies and scholarship. New Zealand Geographer, 64(2), 173–174. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1745-7939.2008.136_5.x
Rosebrock, A. (2016, March 28). Measuring size of objects in an image with OpenCV. PyImageSearch website: https://www.pyimagesearch.com/2016/03/28/measuring-size-of-objects-in-an-image-with-opencv/
Singh, R. (2019, June 10). Computer Vision—An Introduction. Medium website: https://towardsdatascience.com/computer-vision-an-introduction-bbc81743a2f7
Tilley C. (1994). A Phenomenology of Landscape: Places, Paths and Monuments. Oxford: Berg
van der Maaten, L., Boon, P., Lange, G., Paijmans, H., & Postma, E. (2007). Computer Vision and Machine Learning for Archaeology. In J. T. Clark & E. M. Hagermeister (Eds.), Digital Discovery: Exploring New Frontiers in Human Heritage (pp. 476–482). https://lvdmaaten.github.io/publications/papers/CAA_2006.pdf