Ingold Tim - Lines

This book was conceived in July 2000, when I received an invitation from Fionna Ashmore, then Director of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, to deliver the Rhind Lectures for 2003. These lectures, delivered annually on a subject pertaining to history, archaeology or anthropology, have been given since 1876. They commemorate Alexander Henry Rhind of Sibster (183363), a noted Scottish antiquary, born in Wick, who is remembered above all for his pioneering work on the Ancient Egyptian tombs of Thebes. I felt very privileged to have been invited to deliver the lectures and, thinking that the three years notice would give me ample time to prepare, I eagerly accepted. I had been looking for an excuse to set aside some time to work on a topic by which I had long been fascinated but which I knew little about, namely the comparative history of the relation between speech, song, writing and musical notation. For my title I chose Lines from the past: towards an anthropological archaeology of inscriptive practices.

Of course the time I thought I would have to prepare the lectures never materialized. It never does. The years from 2000 to 2003 were hectic. I had arrived at the University of Aberdeen only the year before, charged with establishing a new programme of teaching and research in anthropology, and this had absorbed the greater part of my energies. Indeed the programme had got off to a very good start, and by 2003 we already had our own Department of Anthropology, a nucleus of highly committed staff, and a growing cohort of research students. The first students from the University with honours degrees in Anthropology would be graduating in the summer of that year. With all this going on time flew by, until it suddenly dawned on me, around March 2003, that I had little more than a month left to prepare the lectures. Putting everything else on hold, and without much of an idea of how my topic would develop, I set to work on my theme of language, music and notation.

It was slow going at first, but somehow and much to my surprise the subject took off in a way that I had never anticipated, so that what I had initially set out to accomplish turned out to be but a launch pad for a much broader and more ambitious inquiry into human line-making in all its forms. It was as though, almost by accident, I had struck intellectual gold. From then on, I am not sure whether it was I who was writing the lectures or the lectures that were writing me. They just seemed to tumble out. Still scribbling on the train down to Edinburgh, with the series due to begin that evening, I had all but the final lecture written and for that I had to improvise once the script ran out. Fortunately, I dont think anyone noticed. Thus the lectures were duly delivered, at the Royal Museum of Scotland, over three days, 24 May 2003. To be able to set out my ideas in the raw, to an appreciative audience, over six 50-minute lectures all crammed into one long weekend, was a unique opportunity and an unforgettable experience. It was like the kind of conference you can only dream about, when you are the only speaker, when everyone has come to listen to you and no one else, and when you can have all the time you could possibly wish for to set out your ideas. For this opportunity, and for the hospitality extended to me and my family, I would like to express my appreciation to Fionna Ashmore, to the then President of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, Lisbeth Thoms, and to the Society itself.

Once the lectures were over, thoughts turned to publication. Realizing that it would take decades of work to do justice to the subject, and that this was probably beyond my competence anyway, I initially resolved to write up the lectures more or less as they were, in a rough-and-ready form, without even attempting to refine them further. I knew there were gaps to fill, and that I needed to reorder some of the material, but otherwise that would be that. But once again, the usual pressures of academic life took over. First I was going to do the work over the summer of 2003, then it was put off to the following summer, and then to the summer following that, but there was always something more urgent to do. And all the while, my ideas were moving on.