GILLIAN CARR

WOAD, TATTOOING AND IDENTITY IN LATER IRON AGE AND EARLY ROMAN BRITAIN

Summary. This paper explores the archaeological evidence for the practice of facial and corporeal dyeing, painting and tattooing in the later Iron Age and early Roman period. The aim is to construct a hypothesis which explains how, why, when and by whom such pigments were worn. Although this hypothesis discusses woad-derived indigo, this is used mainly, although not exclusively, as an experimental tool, as no conclusive archaeological evidence exists which reveals the identity of the real pigment(s). Woad has also long held a place in the popular imagination as the source of the dye which the ancient Britons used to paint themselves. This paper explores the possibility that the cosmetic grinder was the focal artefact used in body painting or tattooing, and was used for grinding and mixing body and face paint. It is suggested that, rather than being a Roman-style tool for cosmetic application from the start, it may have begun life as an artefact rst used by the later Iron Age Britons for body painting and expressing indigenous identities.

introduction
Described variously as pendant charms deriving their shape from the iron nose-bands used for horses (Smith 1918); grooved pendants (Trett 1983); and a device used for grinding up medicaments or cosmetics (Jackson 1985, 1993, forthcoming; Jackson and Thullier 1999; Stead and Rigby 1989), the cosmetic grinder is a small cast-bronze crescent-shaped object consisting, when complete, of two parts: a pestle and mortar. They date from the rst century AD to the fth century AD (although Jackson (1993, 167) states that there is no doubt that the type is Romano-British with its origins in the later Iron Age), and occur predominantly in the rst and second centuries AD (Jackson 1985, 175). Cosmetic grinders range between 511 cm in length (Jackson 1985, 168). Although the pestles are generally plain, the mortars are decorated with either knobbed, zoomorphic, phallic or plain terminals. The type is exclusive to Britain, most commonly found in the south-east (Jackson 1985, 172); more recently, however, two examples have turned up in northern France, assumed either to have been traded from Britain or buried with a British immigrant (Jackson and Thullier 1999, 234). Jackson interpreted the cosmetic grinder as an artefact used for grinding minerals for eye and face paints for the Roman-style practice of cosmetic application despite the fact that they are made in a non-Classical style and did not originate in the Roman world. His research
OXFORD JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY 24(3) 273292 2005
Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2005, 9600 Garsington Road, Oxford OX4 2DQ, UK and 350 Main Street Malden, MA 02148, USA.

273

WOAD, TATTOOING AND IDENTITY IN LATER IRON AGE AND EARLY ROMAN BRITAIN

showed that although their associations were with less Romanised settlements, temple and grave contexts (Jackson 1985, 172), there was no single or restricted sphere of use. Explored here is the idea that they were initially used for a more native practice that they were part of the paraphernalia used in the application of woad-derived indigo. Five observations suggest that cosmetic grinders were predominantly a non-Roman artefact used for a purpose that pre-dates the Roman period: 1. Cosmetic grinders are found only in Britain and nowhere else in the Roman world (bar the two recent examples from Gaul). 2. Romans had their own tool for grinding cosmetics: the stone palette, many examples of which are found in Britain. 3. Cosmetic grinders are made in a variety of styles such that no two are alike (although subtypes have now been identied). This is not a feature of Roman bronzes (Jackson 1985, 169). 4. Cosmetic grinders are made in a native Romano-British and not a Classical style (Jackson 1985, 168 and 170). 5. A handful of cosmetic grinders date to before the Conquest (Jackson forthcoming and pers. comm.) This handful includes grinders from King Harry Lane, Hunsbury, Gussage All Saints, Hod Hill and Hockwold (Jackson 1985, nos. 1, 33, 59, 501). An example from Normanton le Heath in Leicestershire has also been published (Thorpe, Sharman and Clay 1994, 49) that suggests a late Iron Age origin for these sets. Jackson warns us that the great majority are found by metal detectorists and are, consequently, without context. With an indigenous later Iron Age origin for the cosmetic grinder thus established, it is now necessary to consider how these objects were used.

the method of woad processing

Although Hobbs (2003, 109) asserts that cosmetic grinders were not used to process woad because it was a vegetable dye (and thus a liquid), he neglects to consider the pigment indigo, which can be extracted from woad (Isatis tinctoria) plants. It would have been relatively straightforward for people of the Iron Age to extract indigo from woad for tattooing. The only ingredients needed were woad plants, water, and ammonia (perhaps in the form of stale urine). Buchanan (1987) outlines the simple recipe as follows: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. Chop woad plants. Boil in water and leave to steep for an hour. Strain liquid and keep, but throw plant matter away. Add ammonia to the liquid until it reaches pH 9 or above. Stir liquid in air for 1015 minutes until blue particles appear on top. Let particles settle for an hour or more and decant, leaving the sediment (or indigo) to dry out. 7. Powder the indigo for further use. The cosmetic grinder would have been used in the nal stages of woad processing to grind up the dried product. The woad-derived indigo would then have been in a form suitable for use in either tattooing or body painting. The yield from woad is small (Plowright (1900)
OXFORD JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY

274

Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2005

GILLIAN CARR

Figure 1 Cosmetic grinders from Hockwold ( Copyright The British Museum).

reports that half a kilogramme of one-month-old woad plants yields 2.4 g of impure indigo), and thus consistent with the small amount of powder with which the pestle and mortar can cope. It is suggested that the design of the cosmetic grinder and the decoration of the mortar terminals relate not only to the recipe needed to extract indigo from woad, but especially to the agent needed to bind the pigment to the body. The terminal designs include bovine and duck
OXFORD JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY
Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2005

275

WOAD, TATTOOING AND IDENTITY IN LATER IRON AGE AND EARLY ROMAN BRITAIN

heads (the binding agent in these cases being milk or egg whites, or perhaps the fats and juices from cooking beef or duck); and also phallic designs (the binding agent being semen). The phallic design also reects a constituent of the recipe, i.e. ammonia, in the form of urine. A binding agent of fat is an important consideration if the Britons, like the Gauls, went into battle naked, as recorded by Diodorus Siculus (V, 2930). This would have kept them insulated against the cold. As well as a tool for powdering woad-derived indigo, the cosmetic grinder was probably also used as a mixing trough for the powder and binding agent (experimental work by the author has shown that thorough mixing is required to produce a good pigment). The pointed end of the pestle could then have been used for drawing delicate designs on the wearer, which could then have been pricked into the skin to make tattoos, or merely left as body paint. Trett (1983) remarked that the tip of the pestle from King Harry Lane was quite worn, suggesting that this part of the pestle had been used for thorough grinding; Jackson (1993, 165) has also observed wear marks on many pestles and mortars. Alternatively, the length of the pestle could have been used to smear the mixture onto the body. The use of the cosmetic grinder, rather than ngers, for grinding, mixing and painting emphasizes the special, magical properties which woadderived indigo was perceived to possess (as discussed below). At no stage did the body paint/tattoo specialist need to contaminate his or her skin with this powerful pigment or waste valuable indigo powder by getting it on his or her hands. Experiments by the author have shown that a very small amount of indigo powder (the area of half a little-nger nail) goes a very long way when mixed with approximately a dessertspoonful of the binding agent: enough to block-cover a couple of limbs. However, given the small capacity of the cosmetic grinder, perhaps intricate designs rather than block cover were more important. In the experiment outlined below, indigo powder was mixed with beef dripping, milk, water, egg yolk, egg white and semen and examined for the ease with which it mixed with the powder, the consistency of the mixture, the colour of the mixture when dry, and the ease with which it was removed.

table 1 Results of experiments with woad and binding agents

Binding agent Milk Beef dripping Colour with indigo on drying Grey Steel blue-grey Consistency Watery poster-paint Grease-paint; cools to shoe-polish consistency which can be stored Grease-paint, but more moist than beef dripping Watery poster-paint Similar to egg yolk Watery Watery poster-paint Chalk powder Ease of removal Rubs off leaving a blue tinge Does not dry; stays waxy; needs hot water and soap to remove Dries slowly, then akes/ brushes off easil Rubs off entirely as a ne powder Rubs off leaving a blue tinge Does not rub off readily Does not rub off readily Rubs off leaving a blue tinge

Egg yolk Egg white Semen Saliva Water None

Dark midnight blue/blueblack inky glaze Shiny grey-black glaze Dark blue-black/grey Dark blue-black Dirty indigo blue Deep midnight/indigo blue

OXFORD JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY

276

Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2005

GILLIAN CARR

These binding agents produce a variety of colours from steely grey-blue, through intense midnight blue, to black, something which varied with amount of indigo used and colour of skin. Most effective as a body paint was the beef dripping, which cools to a consistency of shoe-polish suggesting that, as it does not dry, it could be saved until it was next needed, unlike the other binding agents. Some of the colours yielded were similar to those used in military camouage palettes. Although the modern soldiers aim is to break up the face, make it appear two-dimensional and obscure the outline, some colours, such as the steel blue-grey produced by mixing indigo and beef dripping, would render the face almost invisible in certain lighting conditions (Lt. Patrick Larkin, pers. comm.). Because indigo produces a range of light and dark blue, black and grey colours when mixed with different binding agents, we can imagine that the native Britons would have had a choice of colours from which to choose, depending on the occasion (such as battle or ritual ceremony), time of day, year, or weather conditions. There are other ways in which the native Britons could have used the woad plant to turn themselves entirely blue, rather than making indigo for tattooing or body painting. They could either have produced enough indigo to paint the entire body, a time-consuming business, or they could have set up a woad vat, bath or cauldron into which a person could climb. Residue analysis of such vessels as cauldrons is long overdue; where the procedure has been applied, the results have been most interesting, e.g. the discovery of mead in the cauldron at Hochdorf (Krber-Grohne 1980, 250, 1985, 1212). Although we do not know how the woad vat would have been set up in the Iron Age, evidence for the medieval method has survived and has been outlined by Hurry (1930). The aim of the woad vat was to produce a reduction reaction, which could reduce the oxidized and insoluble blue indigo into a soluble white form, which turns blue on exposure to air. Only in the soluble form can it bind with the protein in the skin. These bonds prevent the indigo from being washed off skin and, indeed, fabric dyed with indigo. It should be noted that indigo powder in the insoluble (but miscible), oxidized form will wash off, as it has not bonded with the protein in the skin. A person dipped into the woad vat at this stage would then be dyed blue. However, on rst emerging from the woad vat, the person would be a dirty brown colour because of the contents of the mixture. They would only turn blue after re-oxidation, which takes a few minutes. The spontaneous change of colour after a few minutes would have seemed a magical process to the Britons, and would have added to the perception of woad as a magical plant. In the discussion of fabric dyeing, Plowright (19012) noted that fabric turned varying shades of blue, green or grey depending on which alkaline agents were added and depending on the length or number of times they were dipped into the woad vat. We can assume that the results would be similar for skin.

archaeological evidence for tattooing and body painting

What evidence do we have that tattooing and body painting using indigo or any other substance took place? There are ve main sources of data: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. Classical authors. Traces of pigments or plant matter used for body painting or tattooing. Bog bodies such as Lindow Man that may have traces of pigments on the skin. Coin evidence for facial tattoos. Paraphernalia for woad processing. 277

OXFORD JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY

Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2005

WOAD, TATTOOING AND IDENTITY IN LATER IRON AGE AND EARLY ROMAN BRITAIN

Classical authors Some Classical authors suggest that the Britons used tattoos, body paints and dyes. Within their writings are clues concerning which pigments were used, how they were applied, and who used them. If it were not for these accounts we would have little idea that the native Britons practised body painting at all: theirs is the only true evidence we have. However, we should be aware that Classical accounts of barbarians and their practices were often exaggerated to emphasize their otherness; Stewart (1995) has suggested that Classical authors are likely to have used certain stock literary topoi or stereotypic themes to emphasize British barbarity and lack of civilization, and body painting is possibly one of these. As Jones (1987) reminds us, for the Greeks and Romans, to be tattooed was degrading and was used on runaway or delinquent slaves. Caesar reports that the custom of covering the body with vitrum, later interpreted as woad (i.e. woad-derived indigo), applied to all Britons and not just to the civilized inhabitants of Kent (De Bello Gallico V, xiv). However, some (e.g. Pyatt et al. 1991) argue that had Caesar encountered other blue-painted warriors in battle, he would surely have mentioned them each time. This is not necessarily true. Caesar may have felt that, having made his initial description of the Britons, there was no further need to describe every new group he met. There are also the inherent problems of translation to take into account beyond the possible mistranslation of vitrum as woad, something which dates from the sixteenth century when the plant was a popular source of blue dye (Thirsk 1985). Vitrum also means glass or crystal in Latin, suggesting that vitrum is crystalline. Caesars report that all the Britons dye themselves with woad, which produces a blue colour is a translation from the Latin: Omnes vero se Britanni vitro inciunt, quod caeruleum efcit colorem. A better rendering, therefore, would perhaps be dye themselves with glazes, indicating body paint, or perhaps infect themselves (or work into themselves) with glass, implying that glass was used to prick the skin for tattooing. This latter translation may even refer to a description of a scarication ritual. On the other hand, it would seem that there is less room for doubt about the link between vitrum and woad. Vitruvius (VII, 14, 2) tells us that, because of the scarcity of indigo, stucco painters make a dye of chalk from Selinus, or from broken beads, along with woad (which the Greeks call isatis), and obtain a substitute for indigo. Woad was chosen as the translation of Vitruvius term vitrum, as we might expect, but we are also given the Greek term isatis. Pliny (20, 59) tells us a third kind (of wild lettuce) growing in the woods is called isatis (satiV). Its leaves pounded up with pearl-barley are good for wounds. A fourth kind is used by dyers of wools. Its leaves would be like those of wild sorrel, were they not more numerous and darker. By its root or leaves it staunches bleeding . . . Not only, then, is isatis, like woad, good for wounds and staunching bleeding (as discussed later) but, when compared, the leaves of the common sorrel (Rumex acetosa) are indeed similar to those of the woad plant (Isatis tinctoria), just as Pliny indicated; both plants have leaves that are arrow-shaped and clasp the stem. Finally, a closely related plant is used for dyeing. This, then, would seem to back up the link between vitrum and Isatis tinctoria or woad. Other Classical authors referred to woad-blue Britain (Ovid, Amores II, 16, 39), although the literal translation of Ovids viridesque Britannos is green Britons. This does not necessarily suggest a copper pigment, as woad dye can also often give a green colour (Plowright 19012). Pomponius Mela (de Chorographia III, 6, 51) also mentioned vitrum, calling it a dye.
OXFORD JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY

278

Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2005

GILLIAN CARR

Pliny (Natural History XXII, ii) was the only author to suggest that a vegetable dye (glastum) was used by the Britons to stain the body (see Appendix). He remarked that this dye made the wearers resemble Ethiopians, which generated a minor debate over why the Romans imagined the Ethiopians were blue. However, woad can produce a black precipitate if left for too long, and can, therefore, turn skin black with over-exposure to the woad vat (Plowright 19012). Plowright also remarked that the woad gatherers hands were often black after harvesting the plant. It is likely, however, that Pliny, in discussing glastum, was merely describing a different dye-plant altogether. While Claudian, Herodian and Solinus seem to be describing tattooed designs, Pliny, Caesar, Martial and Pomponius Mela appear to be describing the application of a single colour over the whole body. Chadwick (1958, 176) suggested that it was possible that the people of Britain, and especially of North Britain, made use of a plant which, among other uses, served as a disinfectant, and which they inserted into their wounds, thereby producing an indelibly dyed scar. Some such explanation would combine the previously discussed description by Caesar with references to people marked by iron such as mentioned by Claudian, perhaps meaning sword wounds or branding, and also with Tacitus description of every man wearing the decorations he had earned meaning either coloured battle scars or tattoos applied to mark heroic deeds in battle. It is possible that vitrum and woad were believed to have magical, medical properties. In fact, woad has anti-bacterial properties (as does urine), and can also be used to staunch bleeding. Anecdotal evidence suggests that it also has soothing properties. To wear it into battle would ensure that any wounds received would be less likely to turn septic and would be less painful; it is not surprising that body dye from woad was thought to render the wearer invincible. If we also remember that tattooing was an unhygienic, dangerous, and possibly even fatal practice in antiquity, the use of a pigment derived from the woad plant may have rendered the practice safer. Pigments and plants Our second source of evidence for tattooing or body painting can be found in the archaeological traces of plants such as woad or other potential vegetable pigments. The earliest example of woad in Britain was found at Dragonby. The yellow dye, weld, was also found at the same site. As woad is not indigenous to this country, van der Veen et al. (1993) suggested that it was deliberately introduced and cultivated for its blue dye. A total of 18 fragments (a mixture of uncharred whole seeds and fragments of seed pods) were found in a later Iron Age pit; however, as the sampling was described as unusual and outstanding for its time (van der Veen 1996, 197), it may be that woad existed on other sites but has been overlooked. Indeed, at the turn of the century, Plowright (19012) mentioned that the unpublished excavation of a barrow at Sheen, near Hartington in north Staffordshire, had yielded a considerable amount of woad-indigo in lumps and powder; however, these have not survived and no proper account of the nd has been made. Plowright suggested that the barrow belonged to a woad dyer. It is likely, however, that whilst macrofossil remains of woad have been overlooked in the archaeological record through non-recognition or inadequate sampling, there are good reasons why such remains would be scarce. The parts of the plant used for dyeing (i.e. the leaves) are only likely to survive under exceptional preservational conditions, such as the waterlogged
OXFORD JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY
Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2005

279

WOAD, TATTOOING AND IDENTITY IN LATER IRON AGE AND EARLY ROMAN BRITAIN

occupation deposits in tenth-century York, for example (Tomlinson 1985; Kenward and Hall 1995). Fruits and seeds (as found at Dragonby) are indirect evidence for the use of the plant in dyeing and rarely survive. Moreover, the pollen of woad is indistinguishable from that of other members of the Cruciferae family (Allan Hall, pers. comm.), of which the humble cabbage is also a member. Preserved bodies Our third source of evidence for tattooing and body painting lies in traces of pigment on the skin of bog bodies. The warriors found preserved in Siberian permafrost at Pazyryk (Rudenko 1970) give us some idea of what might once have been a common British medium of decoration. The translation of vitrum as woad was questioned by Pyatt et al. (1991), who examined Lindow Man. Their results suggested that clay-based copper and other pigments were applied to the body (Pyatt et al. 1991, 61). These results, together with the absence of any archaeological evidence for woad in the Iron Age (until the excavation of Dragonby a few years later), led the authors to suggest that woad was not the origin of the blue paint to which Caesar referred. In their search for a copper pigment on the skin of Lindow Man, Cowell and Craddock, in a later paper (1995, 75), suggested that the amount of copper on the skin of Lindow Man is not of sufcient magnitude to provide convincing evidence that the copper was deliberately applied as paint, especially as the epidermis, the original surface of the skin, which would have carried the putative paint, is lost. So the question of whether Lindow Man indulged in body painting remains open. Coins and facial tattoos The fourth strand of evidence comes from coins. In 1963, Thomas (1963, g. 15 and appendix II) examined the depictions of human faces with tattooed cheeks and necks found in early Gallic coinage dating generally within the later third and second centuries BC (see Fig. 2). The various tribes to which the coins are attributed lie roughly in a broad area from the Paris basin to Normandy and Brittany. Although it is possible that some of the marks could be symbols added to an otherwise blank space, he remarks that collectively there are enough examples to leave little doubt that a cheek mark of some kind on a Celt was nothing very odd, at least in north-west Gaul (ibid., 92). Thomas believes that it was likely that facial and probably corporeal tattoos of this nature were employed in southern Britain at the same time; however, images of facial tattoos on British coins have not been found. Paraphernalia for woad processing The nal potential source of evidence for tattooing or woad-derived indigo production lies in its associated paraphernalia. Production of powdered indigo for tattooing lies one step further along the production line than simply the production of indigo from the woad plant. There are, therefore, two types of artefacts to be considered: those that were used in the general production of indigo, and those that were involved specically in tattooing. Potential paraphernalia that may have been used (although not uniquely associated) in the production of indigo include the redog, the cauldron and the strainer bowl. Those involved
OXFORD JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY

280

Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2005

GILLIAN CARR

Figure 2 Facial tattoos from Gallic coinage (after Thomas 1963, 92, g. 15).

in tattooing include the needle or pin, possibly the razor and/or tweezers, and the cosmetic grinder (see below). The redog was used to support the logs of the re upon which the cauldron was set to boil the woad mixture. Its bovine heads are very similar to those on some terminals of the cosmetic grinder, a point which did not escape the notice of Jackson (1985, 168). The most common context of deposition for redogs is richly-furnished Welwyn-type burials, such as those at Welwyn A and B (Smith 191112), Mount Bures (Smith 1852), Stanfordbury A (Dryden 1845), and Baldock (Stead and Rigby 1986). Over half of all redogs are found in Welwyn-type burials, and over 75 per cent are found in ritual contexts (Saunders 1977). The bronze strainer bowl, which could have been used for separating the woad plants from the liquid, is also found in similar contexts. Examples include the rich burials at Welwyn Garden City (Stead 1967), Stanway in Colchester (Crummy 1997), and Santon Downham in Suffolk (Smith 1909). If one were to suppose
OXFORD JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY
Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2005

281

WOAD, TATTOOING AND IDENTITY IN LATER IRON AGE AND EARLY ROMAN BRITAIN

that artefacts with bovine heads, such as the cosmetic grinder and redog, were linked as woad-related paraphernalia, then the style of the unusual metal bowls from sites such as Lydney and Ham Hill, with their bovine-head escutcheons, indicates that they could also have been involved in the processing of woad among other things. They could have been used for holding several batches of a binding agent mixed with woad-derived indigo, ready for painting the body. Items potentially used in tattooing include the razor, which could have been used for shaving the body and face in preparation for tattooing or body painting, and tweezers, which could have been used for removing individual hairs. It should be noted that hair removal is necessary for tattooing, no matter which part of the body is tattooed. Hairs can divert a needle from its path or interfere with the ow of ink. Also included in the paraphernalia for tattooing is the needle, some of which may have had a dual use for sewing and tattooing. A bone needle stained blue-green has been found at Dragonby (Greep 1996). Other potential tattooing instruments found in Britain include the set of three bronze forks, riveted together, from Richborough (Cunliffe 1968, 105 and pl. XLVII, 211). These are very similar to the opened out tattooing needle shown in Hambly (1925, 273). Six thin, toothed bronze plates were found at Chalton, Hampshire (Frere 1957), similar in design to modern Maori tattooing chisels but larger and with fewer teeth. Multi-toothed tattooing instruments are used for designs made up of many parallel lines. Techniques of tattooing include drawing the design on the skin with pigment and pricking over it with a thorn or sharp object or colouring a thread with powdered pigment and drawing it under the skin with a needle, such as was practised among the Thompson Indians of British Columbia (Teit 19278). The Britons could have carried out either of these methods of tattooing. Solinus and Claudian are the only Classical authors to hint that tattooing took place. Claudian refers to skin marked by iron, and Solinus refers to skin drinking in the dye. It is entirely possible that many methods of body painting and tattooing were used at the same time.

the changing role of cosmetic grinders through time

In order to understand fully the role of the cosmetic grinder in later Iron Age/early Roman Britain, it is necessary to consider the potential users of such an artefact and their reasons for use. The Roman/native dichotomy: who are we talking about? This paper has referred to native Britons and the Roman-style practice of cosmetic application. These terms, along with the concept of Romanization, are becoming rapidly obsolete in the discussion of the social processes of later Iron Age Britain onwards. An overview of the literature of the last 15 years relating to the controversial concept of Romanization is outside the scope of this paper, but can be readily accessed in the proceedings of TRAC, the annual Theoretical Roman Archaeology Conference. It will sufce here to outline a brief theoretical discussion of the concepts of Roman and native, or Romanized and unRomanized. These problematic categories have been discussed by many (e.g. Cooper 1996; Barrett 1997; Freeman 1993; Hill 2001; Hingley 1997). They have also been criticized by Webster (1997a) as an unhelpful polarization of a complex spectrum of interactions. Such categories
OXFORD JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY

282

Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2005

GILLIAN CARR

were unlikely to have been so clear-cut. The terms native and Roman imply two opposing homogeneous, static and monolithic groups with an internally homogeneous material culture and identity; the archaeological record clearly shows that this was not the case. Identity is complex, and does not remain static throughout a persons life it can and does change. Webster later developed her theory of creolization as a replacement for the problematic term Romanization and in order to place earlier work within a new framework (2001). Creolization involves, by its nature, a discussion of hybrid identities. In order to discuss these identities, we previously needed to label them, which inevitably led to descriptions of Romans and natives. Roman Britain comprised a mixture of hybrid (or might we label them creolized?) and heterogeneous identities, cultures and counter-cultures. The changing role of body art through time At a later point in their history, cosmetic grinders appear to owe elements of their use to both traditions. While they were indigenous in design (the terminals are described as being Celtic or Iron Age images by Jackson 1985, 168 and 170), it has been supposed that they were used for the Roman-style application of cosmetics, as discussed above. It is true that they were used throughout the Roman period and have been found in association with toilet instruments in Cheapside, London (Jackson 1993, 166). For Jackson, this association conrmed their connection with toilet and cosmetic paraphernalia. While they may, indeed, have been used for Roman-style cosmetic application later on in the Roman period, perhaps by women, and perhaps using mineral pigments, it must be asked why these artefacts occur in the archaeological record only in the later Iron Age/early Roman period if we assume that body painting or tattooing was a tradition with a greater antiquity. To answer this, we must return to the discussion of the purpose of cosmetic grinders. They were used, it is argued here, for grinding a pigment and for mixing with binding agents ready for painting on the face or body. These designs were either left as painted images or pricked into the skin and turned into tattoos. Thus, we have art work which is either permanent or easily washed off. This can be compared to the earlier practice of body dyeing or staining, which would take days or weeks to wear off, and would not require the use of a cosmetic grinder. A model can, thus, be put forward which describes a change in the practice of corporeal or facial articial pigmentation over time, from block-colour dyeing or staining, perhaps with plants (which, incidentally, can also be performed using the juice of red berries, many of which turn blue with the addition of ammonia in the form of stale urine) in earlier periods of the Iron Age, to painting or tattooing in the later Iron Age/period of conquest, and perhaps even a change in use of the cosmetic grinder to Roman-style cosmetic application later in the Roman period. How are we to explain this change in use? To understand clearly the change in use over time, we need to relate it to the people who would have practised body painting, tattooing or dyeing. In earlier periods of the Iron Age, when body staining or dyeing might have been practised using plant-based pigments, a cauldron of, perhaps, woad, acting as a woad vat, would have contained enough liquid for immersion and coverage of most of the inhabitants of a village or farmstead, perhaps for certain ceremonies or for going into battle. This would also t in with the kind of communal identity or egalitarianism that is currently being suggested for middle Iron Age societies (Hill 1996). Later on, during the period of conquest, it would seem that the practice changed to facial and/or corporeal tattooing or painting, using the cosmetic grinder and, perhaps, woad-derived indigo. It seems likely that the use of indigo powder could have been tightly controlled by a small number of people. Not
OXFORD JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY
Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2005

283

WOAD, TATTOOING AND IDENTITY IN LATER IRON AGE AND EARLY ROMAN BRITAIN

only do woad plants yield only a small amount of indigo, but the cosmetic grinder is a relatively rare item although not as rare as was previously thought; to date over 600 have been found in Britain (Jackson forthcoming). The pestle and mortar elements of cosmetic grinders have suspension loops so that they can be worn, perhaps on a thong, around the neck or from a belt. This sense of ownership is also reected in one of the more frequent contexts of deposition of the cosmetic grinder, the grave (Jackson 1985, 172), although the evidence also points to no single or restricted sphere of use (Jackson 1993, 167). It must be remembered, however, that only a small number of all recorded cosmetic grinders have a known context, the majority of them being odd nds or metal-detector discoveries. The depositional context of the grave reects the perceived power of the cosmetic grinder: the only safe way to dispose of it was to take it out of circulation by burying it with a certain individual, presumably the tattooist or person who had the right to wear tattoos, rather than passing it down through the generations. Interestingly, other types of postulated equipment for woad-derived indigo production, such as the redog, cauldron and strainer bowl, are also most commonly found in graves, again linking ownership of production to certain people. The ownership of woad paraphernalia, including the cosmetic grinder, is likely to have been carried over into ownership of certain tattoo designs, whereby certain families or people may have owned the right to paint/tattoo a certain design on to the body. This design may be reected in the cosmetic grinders themselves, both in their terminals and bodies. The bodies are sometimes decorated with zigzag grooves, triangular cells, or enamelled decorations in red, blue, green or yellow (Jackson 1985, 169). The individuality of grinders is also emphasized by Jackson (ibid. and 1993, 168). The ownership of woad processing and the recipe for making the woad vat, the powdered woad-derived indigo, and the binding agents are all likely to have been guarded as esoteric knowledge. Thus, to wear indigo or tattoos (or a cosmetic grinder) was to display ownership of that knowledge to other people. Because of the restricted sphere of use of the cosmetic grinder and the paraphernalia associated with body painting and tattooing, and because of the small amount of pigment with which the grinder was able to cope, it is likely that this was a minority practice or restricted to certain members of a community or was used only on certain restricted occasions, such as tattooing at certain rites of passage. Unlike body dyeing with a woad vat, the powder in a cosmetic grinder would only be enough to tattoo one or two people, and the choice of who those people were was unlikely to have been a random one. Why would people have wanted to wear face or body paint or tattoos in the later Iron Age/early Roman period? What caused the change from body dyeing? This question can best be answered by considering changing concepts of identity; obviously, painted or tattooed images have the capacity to convey more information about the wearers identity than all-over body staining for certain ritual, social or martial occasions. The period of conquest was a time of ux and social change. Jundi and Hill (1998) suggest that one of the reasons why the humble brooch became such a ubiquitous item at this time is because gender, and social and cultural identities were becoming increasingly uid and, after the Roman Conquest, dress and appearance and even the brooch may have been an important way to differentiate between these identities. It can be suggested that the cosmetic grinder was an artefact which also facilitated the expression of identity. There is an important difference between artefacts associated with identity creation, expression and bodily grooming (such as brooches and toilet instruments) and the cosmetic grinder. Face and body painting and tattooing were very denitely not a Roman practice. As such, it could be argued that the desire to paint and tattoo oneself in this period was an act of
OXFORD JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY

284

Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2005

GILLIAN CARR

resistance towards acquiring any kind of Roman-style or even hybrid Romano-British identity. One may argue that to tattoo oneself was a more active form of resistance than merely painting oneself. One can be washed off and the other cannot; this would be ideal if some RomanoBritons moved in mixed social circles. Body art may have acted as a private joke among the Britons, a hidden discourse, signalled among themselves by acts such as casually rolling up a sleeve. There are other reasons why tattooing might have been popular as a practice at the time of the initial invasion, battles with and conquest by the Romans. Tattooing is a proof of courage. If a person is brave enough to undergo tattooing, then they will make a good warrior. If certain tattoos were applied to those skilled in battle, then to courage and bravery we can add heroism. Although tattoos may have symbolized these things to the Britons, and they might have expected such marks of valour to intimidate their enemies in battle, to the Romans, such symbols would merely have marked the Britons as barbarians. Body art may have carried other messages. If we consider the use of the phallic-terminal cosmetic grinder to powder the pigment, the use of semen as a binding agent, and the action of the male (pestle) and female (mortar) parts of the cosmetic grinder rubbing together (Jackson, pers. comm.), then we can see how male fertility and virility were also bound up in body painting and tattooing. If animals were painted on the body, as indicated by Solinus, then these may have been spirit helpers or guardian spirits who would come to the aid of the wearer in battle. Alternatively, by painting images of animals on their bodies, the Britons may have hoped to endow themselves with the power of those animals. The zoomorphic terminals of some cosmetic grinders, such as those which depict horned cattle or bulls, may echo these animal designs. In summary, we can begin to build up a picture of tattooing (and, to some extent, body dyeing before it) as a practice which was bound up in both a belief in its magical and medical properties as well as its ability openly and visually to display and construct the masculine qualities of the warrior (cf. Treherne 1995) such as heroism, courage, bravery, virility and fertility. To show such symbols of male strength would have been important in times of battle if or when the Britons went into the eld naked and, from our perspective but almost certainly not from theirs, vulnerable. It is possible that face and corporeal painting and tattooing, perhaps with woad-derived indigo, during the period of conquest was actually quite a short-lived practice. As most of the cosmetic grinders date to the rst and second centuries AD, and were in use until the fth century AD, it is possible that their use gradually changed. The unequivocal association of a cosmetic grinder with a set of toilet instruments from Cheapside in London, dating to AD 100120 (Jackson 1993), suggests that by this period, Roman-style bodily grooming and cosmetics went hand-in-hand (Hobbs 2003, 109), unless the person who used these artefacts was cultivating a hybrid identity. This apparently rapid change in practice would not have been adopted by everyone; it is possible that many people continued to express their identities through the use of pigments in a more pre-Roman style throughout the Roman period. However, those who began to adopt the more Roman-style (or, more accurately, Romano-British) practice of cosmetic application, perhaps learned from the wives of Roman soldiers (who may well have been from areas of the Roman empire outside the Italian peninsula), were probably doing little more than substituting one set of pigments and colours for another, even if the designs on their faces were rather different than before. Some societies who practise facial tattooing, such as the Maoris,
OXFORD JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY
Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2005

285

WOAD, TATTOOING AND IDENTITY IN LATER IRON AGE AND EARLY ROMAN BRITAIN

do it for reasons of beautication as well as for identity expression, so the purposes of face painting would not have changed substantially. We cannot escape the assumption that cosmetic application was associated mainly with women (and men of dubious masculinity in Rome, if Martial is to be believed) and, while we cannot be sure that this was the case in Roman Britain, it is possible that the practice of body and face painting shifted from the realm of men (or both genders) to women in this period. One of the ways in which we can understand this is to suggest that the pigment and the artefact (and perhaps the designs) each communicated something different about gender identity. If the esoteric knowledge of woad-derived indigo production was in the hands of men at the time of conquest, and men and women did not differentiate themselves along gender lines by their use of body paint, and if the early Roman period was a time when the number of identities (including gender identities) multiplied, women could have been distinguishing themselves and making gender statements by the use of new pigments, and thus may have moved away from traditional practices. This would imply that men and women both used cosmetic grinders but with different pigments/for different purposes in the Roman period; however, as it has been suggested that cosmetic grinders were already associated with Roman-style practices of grooming, how are we to account for what the men were doing? If the cosmetic grinder came to be associated with women, because they needed to grind up their mineral pigments for cosmetics (thus making the cosmetic grinder a creolized artefact, cf. Webster 2001, an idea more fully explored in Carr forthcoming a), the men might have begun to reject the cosmetic grinder because of its growing female associations and the growing difference in gender identities. This is not to put negative connotations on being female in Roman Britain; this would simply reinforce the outdated view of women as second class citizens in this society (Baker 2003). We have yet to comprehend fully the cultural understanding of what it meant to be a woman in this period; it is possible, however, that the cosmetic grinder played a role in the creation of gender identity.

conclusion
This paper questions the current assumption that the cosmetic grinder was used solely for the Roman-style practice of facial cosmetic application as proposed by Jackson (1985 and 1993). Instead, a model is put forward which outlines the changing role of corporeal and facial dyeing, tattooing and painting through time. It is suggested that the practice changed from dyeing or staining in the middle Iron Age for expressing communal identities at certain occasions, to painting or tattooing using the cosmetic grinder in the later Iron Age and early Roman period for purposes of creating and expressing individual identity. One of the many possible identities expressed at this time could have been an overtly indigenous one, one which expressed resistance to the new authorities. It would thus have made sense to use a tool (the cosmetic grinder) with stylistic origins in the Iron Age, rather than switch to a new pigmentgrinding instrument such as the stone palette. Further, it is suggested that the role of the cosmetic grinder changed to become a hybrid or creolized Romano-British artefact in the Roman period when it was used by women for facial cosmetic application for purposes of expressing gender identity. Although such interpretations must remain speculative, more information can be teased from the data once all known cosmetic grinders are published (Jackson forthcoming). Because the majority of cosmetic grinders are without context, much crucial contextual information

OXFORD JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY

286

Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2005

GILLIAN CARR

PRE-CONQUEST Body staining/dyeing (wears off in weeks; worn in battle or at ceremonies) Communal/group identity Used by both sexes?

TIME OF CONQUEST AND EARLY POST-CONQUEST Tattooing Body painting Permanent Washes off Individual identity Individual identity Resistance Used by both sexes?

ROMAN PERIOD INCREASING TIME R oman -style cosmetic application Gender identity Used by women

Figure 3 Diagram of change in use of the cosmetic grinder through time

will still be missing. Regional typologies and patterns of deposition may still be forthcoming. It may, for instance, be possible to link certain cosmetic grinder types/terminal designs with certain age and gender groups by examining the burial contexts where available, or to date cosmetic grinders by terminal design. It would be interesting, for example, if the phallic-terminal grinders proved to be among the earliest, before cosmetic grinders moved into the sphere of female use, or even if they dated to a time when women were beginning to appropriate them, as if to reassert a male identity. It is also possible that the female equivalent was the grinder with the (deliberately?) ambiguous and stylized bovine/crescent moon terminal (e.g. Jackson 1985, 185, g. 7, 69); did the crescent moon make reference to female fertility and even the use of menstrual blood as a binding agent? One further important avenue for future research of all new grinders should include systematic residue analysis and/or, as Jackson (1993, 168) advises, an active search for traces of pigments by anyone who excavates a cosmetic grinder, especially if it is found in a grave. These remain the only methods of determining the contents of cosmetic grinders and should form part of a programme of continued study. Until then, we can but tentatively tease information from the existing data and put forward hypothetical models.

OXFORD JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY

Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2005

287

WOAD, TATTOOING AND IDENTITY IN LATER IRON AGE AND EARLY ROMAN BRITAIN

Acknowledgements

This paper comes from a chapter of my Ph.D. thesis (Carr 2000 and forthcoming b). An earlier draft of this paper was read at the 1998 Shefeld Iron Age Research Seminar, and the 1999 Dyes in History and Archaeology conference in Brussels; it has been improved by helpful comments from both audiences. I would like to thank the British Museum and The Archaeological Journal for letting me reproduce illustrations and photographs. Thanks also to Professor Philip John from the Reading University Department of Plant Sciences for his help in answering my questions about indigo and dyeing processes, for checking the dyeing chemistry, and for sending me samples of woad powder; to Ralph Jackson for discussing cosmetic grinders with me at an early stage of my thesis; to Allan Hall at York University for checking the archaeobotany; to Chris Knsel, Simon Stoddart and Paul Sealey for their helpful comments and suggestions on an earlier version of this paper; and to Lieutenant Patrick Larkin for advice on army camouage practices and for being the guinea pig in my woad experiments.

Hughes Hall Mortimer Road Cambridge CB4 8RX

APPENDEX
Author and reference Caesar, De Bello Gallico V, xiv Date mid-1st c. BC Quote All the Britons dye their bodies with woad (vitrum), which produces a blue colour, and this gives them a more terrifying appearance in battle. I cant think this is my home, this healthy Sulmo, my birthplace, my ancestral countryside, but wastes of Scythia or woad-blue Britain (viridesque Britannos) or the wild rocks Prometheus red blood dyed. Do you still in your madness imitate the painted Britons and play the wanton with foreign dyes upon your head? All beauty is best as nature made it: Belgic colour is shameful on a Roman face. If some woman has stained her forehead with azure dye, is azure beauty on that account to be desired? (Britain) bears peoples and kings of peoples, but all are uncivilized, and the further away they are from the continent, the more they are acquainted with its other blessings: so much that, rich only in livestock and their territory it is uncertain whether as an embellishment or for some other reason they dye their bodies with vitrum. Claudia Runa, though she is sprung from the sky-blue Britons, how she possesses the feelings of the Latin race! Aready more than 30,000 men could be seen, and still they came ocking to the colours all the young men, and famous warriors whose old age was fresh and green, every man wearing the decorations he had earned. In Gaul there is a plant like plantain, called glastum; with it the wives of the Britons, and their daughters-in-law, stain all the body, and at certain religious ceremonies march along naked, with a colour resembling that of the Ethiopians.

Ovid, Amores II, 16, 39

25 BC+

Propertius, Elegies II, xviiiD, 14

late 1st c. BC

Pomponius Mela, de Chorographia III, 6, 51

c. AD 43

Martial, Epigrams XI, LIII

AD 98

Tacitus, Agricola 29

AD 98

Pliny, Naturalis Historia XXII, ii

1st c. AD

OXFORD JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY

288

Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2005

GILLIAN CARR

Author and reference Solinus, Collectanea Rerum Memorabilium 22, 12

Date early 3rd c. AD

Quote The area is partly occupied by barbarians on whose bodies, from their childhood upwards, various forms of living creatures are represented by means of cunningly wrought marks; and when the esh of the person has been deeply branded, then the marks of the pigment get larger as the man grows, and the barbaric nations regard it as the highest pitch of endurance to allow their limbs to drink in as much of the dye as possible through the scars which record this. They also tattoo their bodies with various patterns and pictures of all sorts of animals. Hence the reason why they do not wear clothes, so as not to cover the pictures on their bodies. Next spoke Britain, clad in the skin of some Caledonian beast, her cheeks marked with iron, while a sea-green mantle giving the illusion of the swell of the ocean, rippled over her foot-prints. Next (came) the legion that had been stationed in remote Britain, that had bridled the wild Irish, and, as the Pict lay dying, had gazed upon the lifeless forms, marked by iron.

Herodian III, xiv, 7

AD 208

Claudian II, Poem on Stilichos Consulship II.247 Claudian II, De Bello Gothico, 41618

AD 395

AD 402

references
2003: A brief comment on the TRAC session dedicated to the interdisciplinary approaches to the study of Roman Women. In Carr, G., Swift, E. and Weekes, J. (eds.), TRAC 2002: Proceedings of the Twelfth Annual Theoretical Roman Archaeology Conference, Canterbury 2002 (Oxford), 1406. BARRETT, J.C. 1997: Romanization: a critical comment. In Mattingly, D.J. (ed.), Dialogues in Roman Imperialism: Power, discourse, and discrepant experience in the Roman Empire (Portsmouth, R.I., Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplementary Series, No. 23), 5164. BUCHANAN, R. 1987: A Weavers Garden (Loveland). CARR, G. 2000: Romanisation and the Body: Changing Identities in the Later Iron Age and Early Roman Period in the Territory of the Trinovantes and Catuvellauni Unpublished Ph.D. thesis, Cambridge University. CARR, G. 2003: Creolisation, pidginisation and the interpretation of unique artefacts in early Roman Britain. In Carr, G., Swift, E. and Weekes, J. (eds.), TRAC 2002: Proceedings of the Twelfth Annual Theoretical Roman Archaeology Conference, Canterbury 2002 (Oxford), 11325. CARR, G. forthcoming a: Creolising the body in early Roman Britain. In Hingley, R. and Willis, S. (eds.), Promoting Roman Finds (Oxford). CARR, G. forthcoming b: Creolising the Body? Changing Identities in the Later Iron Age and Early Roman Period in Essex and Hertfordshire (Oxford, British Archaeological Reports). CHADWICK, N. 1958: The name Pict. Scottish Gaelic Studies 8(2), 14676. COOPER, N. 1996: Searching for the blank generation: consumer choice in Roman and post-Roman Britain. In Webster, J. and Cooper, N. (eds.), Roman Imperialism and Post-Colonial Perspectives. Proceedings of a symposium held at Leicester University in November 1994 (Leicester, Leicester Archaeology Monographs No. 3), 8598. COWELL, M.R. and CRADDOCK, P.T. 1995: Addendum: copper in the skin of Lindow Man. In Turner, R.C. and Scaife, R.G. (eds.), Bog Bodies: new discoveries and new perspectives (London), 745.
OXFORD JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY
Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2005

BAKER, P.

289

WOAD, TATTOOING AND IDENTITY IN LATER IRON AGE AND EARLY ROMAN BRITAIN

1997: Britains earliest doctor? Rescue News 73, 7. 1968: Fifth Report on the Excavations of the Roman Fort at Richborough, Kent (Oxford, Reports of the Research Committee of the Society of Antiquaries of London, 23). DEETZ, J. 1977: In Small Things Forgotten: an archaeology of early American life (New York). DOWN, A. and RULE, M. 1971: Chichester Excavations Vol. 1 (Chichester, Chichester Civic Society Excavations Committee).
CUNLIFFE, B.W. DRYDEN, H. 1845: Roman and Romano-British remains at and near Shefford, Co. Beds. Publications of the Cambridge Archaeological Society 8(18406), 184.

CRUMMY, P.

1992: Uncommon Ground (Washington and London). FREEMAN, P. 1993: Romanisation and Roman material culture. Journal of Roman Archaeology 6, 43845. FRERE, S.S. 1957: Late Roman objects from Chalton, Hants. The Antiquaries Journal 37, 21820. GREEP, S.J. 1996: Needles. In May, J., Dragonby: report on excavations at an Iron Age and RomanoBritish settlement in North Lincolnshire Vol. 1 (Oxford, Oxbow Monograph 61), 347. 1925: The History of Tattooing and its Signicance (London). 1999: Beyond Romanisation: the creolisation of food. A framework for the study of faunal remains from Roman sites. Papers from the Institute of Archaeology 10, 8995.
HAWKES, G. HILL, J.D. 1996: Hill-forts and the Iron Age of Wessex. In Champion, T.C. and Collis, J. (eds.), The Iron Age in Britain and Ireland: recent trends (Shefeld). HILL, J.D. 1997: The end of one kind of body and the beginning of another kind of body? Toilet instruments and Romanization. In Gwilt, A. and Haselgrove, C. (eds.), Reconstructing Iron Age Societies (Oxford, Oxbow Monograph 71), 96107. HILL, J.D. 2001: Romanisation, gender and class: recent approaches to identity in Britain and their possible consequences. In James, S. and Millett, M. (eds.), Britons and Romans: advancing an archaeological agenda (York, Council for British Archaeology, Research Report 125), 1218. HINGLEY, R. HAMBLY, W.D.

FERGUSON, L.

1997: Resistance and domination: social change in Roman Britain. In Mattingly, D.J. (ed.), Dialogues in Roman Imperialism: Power, discourse, and discrepant experience in the Roman Empire (Portsmouth, R.I., Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplementary Series, No. 23), 81100.

2003: Treasure: nding our past (London). HURRY, J.B. 1930: The Woad Plant and its Dye (Oxford). JACKSON, R. 1985: Cosmetic sets from Late Iron Age and Roman Britain. Britannia 16, 16592. JACKSON, R. 1993: The function and manufacture of Romano-British cosmetic grinders: two important new nds from London. The Antiquaries Journal 73, 1659.
JACKSON, R. JACKSON, R.

HOBBS, R.

forthcoming: Cosmetic Grinders: an illustrated catalogue and discussion of a type unique to Late Iron Age and Roman Britain (London, British Museum Occasional Paper 104).

and THULLIER, F. 1999: A British cosmetic set (ncessaire fard) from Throuanne (Pas-deCalais, France). Instrumentum 9, 234. JONES, C.P. 1987: Stigma: tattooing and branding in Graeco-Roman antiquity. Journal of Roman Studies 77, 13955. JUNDI, S. and HILL, J.D. 1998: Brooches and identities in rst century AD Britain: more than meets the eye? In Forcey, C., Hawthorne, J. and Witcher, R. (eds.), TRAC 97: Proceedings of the Seventh Annual Theoretical Roman Archaeology Conference Nottingham 1997 (Oxford), 12537. KENWARD, H.K. and HALL, A.R. 1995: Biological evidence from Anglo-Scandinavian deposits at 1622 Coppergate. The Archaeology of York 14(7), 435797. KRBER-GROHNE, U. 1980: Biologische Untersuchungen am keltischen Frstengrab von Hochdorf, Kr. Ludwigsburg (Vorbericht). Archologisches Korrespondenzblatt 10, 24952.
OXFORD JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY

290

Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2005

GILLIAN CARR

KRBER-GROHNE, U. 1985: Panzliche und tierische Reste aus dem Frstengrab von Hochdorf. Die Biologie als Hilfswissenschaft der Archologie. In Planck, D., Biel, J., Ssskind, G. and Wais, A. (eds.), Der Keltenfrst von Hochdorf, Methoden und Ergebnisse der Landesarchologie in Baden-Wrttemberg (Stuttgart), 11623. NEEDHAM, S.P.

and BIMSON, Journal 68, 31415.

M.

1988: Late Bronze Age Egyptian Blue at Runnymede. The Antiquaries

M.D.

PADDEN, A.N., DILLON, V.M., JOHN, P., EDMONDS, J., COLLINS, used in mediaeval dyeing. Nature 396 (issue 6708), 225. PLOWRIGHT, C.B. PLOWRIGHT, C.B.

and

ALVAREZ, N.

1998: Clostridium

1900: On the blue colour in woad. Nature 61, 3312. 19012: On woad as a prehistoric pigment. Journal of the Royal Horticultural Society

26, 3340.
PYATT, F.B., BEAUMONT, E.H., LACY, D., MAGILTON, J.R. RUDENKO, S.I. SAUNDERS, C. SMITH, C.R. SMITH, R.A.

and BUCKLAND, P.C. 1991: Non isatis sed vitrum or, the colour of Lindow Man. Oxford Journal of Archaeology 10(1), 6173. 1970: Frozen tombs of Siberia: the Pazyryk burials of Iron Age horsemen (London). 1977: The iron redog from Welwyn, Hertfordshire, reconsidered. Hertfordshire Archaeology 5, 1321. 1852: Collectanea Antiqua Vol. 2.

1909: A hoard of metal found at Santon Downham, Suffolk. Proceedings of the Cambridge Antiquarian Society 13(53), 14663.
SMITH, R.A.

191112: On late-Celtic antiquities discovered at Welwyn, Hertfordshire. Archaeologia 63,

130.
SMITH, R.A. 1918: On a peculiar type of Roman bronze pendant. Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries 2nd series, 30, 5463. STEAD, I.M.

1967: A La Tne III burial at Welwyn Garden City. Archaeologia 101, 162.

STEAD, I.M. and RIGBY, V. 1986: Baldock: The Excavation of a Roman and Pre-Roman Settlement, 196872

(London, The Society for the Promotion of Roman Studies). and RIGBY, V. 1989: Verulamium: The King Harry Lane Site (London, English Heritage Archaeological Report No. 12).
STEWART, P.C.N. STEAD, I.M.

1995: Inventing Britain: the Roman creation and adaptation of an image. Britannia 26,

110.
TEIT, J.A. 19278: Tattooing and face- and body-painting of Thompson Indians of British Columbia. 45th Annual Report of the Ethnological Bureau (Washington). THIRSK, J.

1985: The agricultural landscape: fads and fashions. In Woodell, S.R.J. (ed.), The English Landscape Past, Present and Future (Oxford), 12947. 1963: The interpretation of the Pictish symbols. The Archaeological Journal 120, 3197.

THOMAS, C.

THORPE, R., SHARMAN, J.

and CLAY, P. 1994: An Iron Age and Romano-British enclosure system at Normanton le Heath, Leicestershire. Leicestershire Archaeology and History Society Transactions 68, 163.

1985: Use of vegetative remains in the identication of dyeplants from waterlogged 9th and 10th century deposits at York. Journal of Archaeological Science 12, 26983.
TOMLINSON, P. TREHERNE, P. TRETT, R.

1995: The warriors beauty: the masculine body and self-identity in Bronze Age Europe. Journal of European Archaeology 3(1), 10544. 1983: Roman bronze grooved pendants from East Anglia. Norfolk Archaeology 28, 21934.

TURNER, R. forthcoming: Excavations of an Iron Age Settlement and Roman Religious Complex at Ivy Chimneys, Witham, Essex 197883 (East Anglian Archaeology, Essex County Council).

OXFORD JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY

Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2005

291

WOAD, TATTOOING AND IDENTITY IN LATER IRON AGE AND EARLY ROMAN BRITAIN

VEEN, M. VAN DER 1996: The plant macro-fossils. In May, J., Dragonby: report on excavations at an Iron Age and Romano-British settlement in North Lincolnshire Vol. 1 (Oxford, Oxbow Monograph 61), 197211. VEEN, M. VAN DER, HALL, A.R. and MAY, J. 1993: Woad and the Britons painted blue. Oxford Journal of Archaeology 12, 36771. WEBSTER, J. 1997a: A negotiated syncretism: readings on the development of Romano-Celtic religion. In Mattingly, D.J. (ed.), Dialogues in Roman Imperialism: Power, discourse, and discrepant experience in the Roman Empire (Portsmouth R.I., Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplementary Series, No. 23), 16584. WEBSTER, J. 1997b: Necessary comparisons: a post-colonial approach to religious syncretism in the Roman provinces. World Archaeology 28(3), 32438. WEBSTER, J. 2001: Creolizing the Roman Provinces. American Journal of Archaeology 105, 20925. WHEELER, R.E.M. and WHEELER, T.V. 1932: Report on the Prehistoric, Roman, and Post-Roman Site in Lydney Park, Gloucestershire (Oxford, Reports of the Research Committee of the Society of Antiquaries of London, 9).

OXFORD JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY

292

Blackwell Publishing Ltd. 2005