spatial patterning and social complexity on prehistoric anatolian tell sites: models for mounds

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Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 19, 164–199 (2000)doi:10.1006/jaar.2000.0363, available online at http://www.idealibrary.com on

Spatial Patterning and Social Complexity on Prehistoric AnatolianTell Sites: Models for Mounds

Sharon R. Steadman

Department of Sociology/Anthropology, SUNY Cortland, Cortland, New York 13045

E-mail: [email protected]

Received May 26, 1998; revision received October 7, 1999; accepted December 10, 1999

The “tell” is one of the most recognizable features in the Near Eastern landscape. Itscomplicated stratigraphy signifies the long history of human habitation through the depositionof successive strata of occupation detritus. This study focuses on the organization of domesticarchitecture on Anatolian mounds from a diachronic perspective. Of particular interest is theobservable metamorphosis in spatial patterning of domestic architecture concomitant with thestages of increasingly complex society. Although recent work contains numerous models ap-plicable to prehistoric domestic architectural remains, including those treating greater societalcomplexity, the data used to generate these models have generally been derived from non-mounded settlements. Therefore, current theoretical frameworks must be reevaluated in orderto render them effective in the analysis of architectural remains from tell sites. The domesticarchitecture on tell sites is examined using three types of spatial patterning analysis: increas-ingly complex task performance and the associated architectural partitioning of structures;access analysis; and issues of privacy and territoriality. These analytical methods, all interre-lated, bear specifically on the physical structure (spatial patterning) of domestic tell architectureas residents experience socioeconomic change. © 2000 Academic Press

INTRODUCTION cupation in the ancient Near East. The

Near Eastern “tells” constitute one ofthe most recognizable features across thelandscape of the modern Middle East.1

The flat and faceless panorama of the Me-sopotamian alluvial plain is often brokenonly by these human-generated moundsof earth. The tells found among gentlyrolling hills of the Anatolian plateau incentral Turkey or in the oasis-studdeddesert of Syro-Palestine provide a power-ful testament to the length of human oc-

1 The tell sites that comprise the database in thistudy are located in modern Turkey, known in Nearastern archaeological parlance as “Anatolia.” Thequivalent of “tell” in Turkish is “hoyuk”; however,he Arabic/Hebrew form “tell” is used here due to itsider recognition in archaeological terminology. Theurkish form hoyuk appears frequently in the fol-

owing discussion in the proper names of sites.

1640278-4165/00 $35.00Copyright © 2000 by Academic PressAll rights of reproduction in any form reserved.

complicated stratigraphy of Near Easterntells attest to the long history of humanhabitation through the deposition of suc-cessive strata of occupational detritus. Ofcourse, various examples of human-gen-erated earthen mounds exist in other ar-eas of the world. Mounds were often builtas burial sites or functioned as religious orsecular testimonials, as is the case in theNorth American Mississippian andHopewell cultures (Smith 1986; Yerkes1988). Such mounds, however, were con-structed at a specific temporal point for aspecific purpose. In contrast, Near Easternmounds are usually the result of hundredsor even thousands of years of occupation,resulting in a meters-high accumulationof human detritus. This process is preva-lent in the cultures that inhabited the an-

cient Near East and, to some extent, the

emaoautnes

side eastern Europe and the Near East

165SPATIAL PATTERNING AND SOCIAL COMPLEXITY

prehistoric cultures of southeastern Eu-rope. Investigation of these Neolithic andChalcolithic mounds, much of which fo-cuses on the differences between moundand nonmound prehistoric remains (in-cluding architecture), has recently beenundertaken by several scholars (Chapman1989, 1990; Bailey 1990; Tringham 1994;Tringham et al. 1992).

The question of why people in south-eastern Europe and the Near East settledin an area and subsequently remainedthere for generations or millennia is ofconsiderable interest, but beyond theboundaries of the “tell” investigation as itis addressed in the present study. The in-tention here, therefore, is not to explainwhy people settle in such a way as to gen-

rate tells. Rather, this study seeks to illu-inate the processes of human behavior,

ctivities, and social organization as theyccur on these peculiar elevated islandscross the Anatolian landscape. Of partic-lar interest is the relationship between

he built environment and social and eco-omic organization and change as theyxist on tells rather than on nonmoundedites.

The vast majority of architectural anal-ysis is concerned with how people use andmanipulate space (see Lawrence and Low1990 and Steadman 1996a for a survey ofliterature). The models generated for theuse of space have dealt primarily with cul-tures that have some ability to change thedimensions or size of their allotted space;most of the research conducted so far,whether ethnoarchaeological or archaeo-logical, has concentrated on settlementsthat are primarily “flat,” that is, nontellareas [with notable exceptions such asKramer (1982) and Horne (1994), who ex-amined modern Near Eastern villages thatwere themselves tell formations]. The rea-son for such a focus is that the majority ofresearchers working on spatial analysisand architecture specialize in regions out-

and thus have not had access to tell-basedsites. Investigators working in areas withsuch access have only recently begun todelve into issues associated withmounded sites.

Thus far, research into the built envi-ronment on nontell settlements has beenof exceptional quality. Nevertheless, be-cause the limited space available on tellsconfronts inhabitants with a set of logisti-cal challenges different from those onmore normative, nonmounded settle-ments, the possibility that prevailing stud-ies need further refinement must be ac-knowledged. It should be noted here thata similar lack of space, and inability toexpand a settlement’s boundaries, also ex-ists in nontell settings. Immovable bound-aries may be geographical (i.e., bodies ofwater, mountains, or gulches), human-built, such as substantial defensive wallsor moats, or the result of myriad othercauses. Even though similar or identicaleconomic processes might occur on tells,or rigidly bounded settlements (i.e., in-creased craft specialization or more com-plex task performance), the use of space inthese settlements can be dramatically dif-ferent from that on more flat, open sites.The focus in this study centers on the in-habitants of tell sites, and particularly onprehistoric Anatolian mounds, but the re-search results and alternative models pre-sented would also be applicable to non-mounded settlements with tell-like spatiallimitations.

In recent studies John Chapman (1989,1990; see also Bailey 1990) has delved intothe question of the use of space on moundformations. Although Chapman’s workfocuses on southeastern Europeanmounds, much of his data is applicable toNear Eastern settlements. It seems clearthat the spatial configurations of tell siteswould have a significant impact on theorganization of space within a settlement.Chapman notes that the use of space, and

the built:unbuilt space ratios on flat (non-

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they are revealed in a society’s use of

166 SHARON R. STEADMAN

mounded) settlements, compared withtells, are very different (1990:52). He goeson to consider the reuse of space over timeand the relationship between architecture,ideological power, and social inequality(1990:55–72). Implicit in Chapman’s workis the postulate that models generated forflat and open settlements are not alwaysappropriate for the architectural configu-rations found on tell settlements.

In a similar fashion, the present studysuggests that some reevaluation of thesemodels is needed. The argument heredoes not favor rejecting explanatoryframeworks that focus on human behaviorand how people use and manipulate theirenvironment, particularly as it relates toincreasing complexity. After all, thesegeneral models are meant to be applicableto all human societies, whether or nottheir members chose to live on tells.Rather, what must be reevaluated are theexpectations concerning the types of archi-tectural structures that result from thesehuman behavioral processes. Expecta-tions must be broadened and reconfig-ured to take into account the types of space

vailable to tell inhabitants and the vary-ng types of spatial manipulation that

ight take place as a result of a spatiallyimited environment. What is needed is aeevaluation of how tell inhabitants mightxpress, through architecture, processesuch as increasing complexity and otheracets of human behavior. In other words,he overall explanatory framework thatutlines human behavior and how it seekso express socioeconomic change may re-

ain the same, but the relationship be-ween that increasingly complex humanehavior and the built environment re-ulting from that behavior must be recastn terms of the limited space available onell sites.

This study analyzes the architectural re-ains from tell sites in terms of three

uman behavioral processes and how

space concomitant with various stages ofsocioeconomic organization. These threeavenues of investigation include: increas-ingly complex, or increasingly numerous,performance of tasks and associated in-crease in size, partitioning, and segmen-tation of structures; access analysis, whichaddresses the spatial and subsequentlysocial patterning and relationships re-flected both in the internal and externalstructures of architectural boundaries andentrances; and the research area known asproxemics, a subfield related to accessanalysis which examines individual terri-toriality, the need for interpersonal space,and the expression of these within andbetween architectural structures. The lat-ter two fields deal implicitly with humanterritoriality and the desire to better con-trol access to one’s personal space (akin tothe notion of “privacy” in western soci-ety). Humans adjust their built environ-ment in conjunction with an increase inthe possession of material wealth particu-larly when, as is common on tell-basedsettlements, crowding takes place (Hall1966; Rapoport 1982; Sommer 1969). Thesebehavioral processes have all been inten-sively researched both in archaeologicaland anthropological contexts (as well asby researchers in other disciplines), andnumerous models have been generated topredict and explain human behavior andthe built environment as it relates to theseresearch fields. However, the data used togenerate such models were derived inlarge part from nonmounded settlements,and the subsequent use of such modelshas tended to focus on societies living innon-tell, open settlements. While the hu-man behavioral process and human reac-tions to increasing social complexity arepredictably familiar in human groups thatchoose to live on tell sites, the ways inwhich they manipulate and use their builtenvironment in order to meet the needs ofsocioeconomic change will differ from

those inhabitants of nonmounded settle- Gorny et al. 1995, 1999), where the incor-

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ments. The use of space on a tell, there-fore, should differ from how a similar so-ciety will manipulate space andarchitecture in a non-tell context.

The ancient Near East covers a vast re-gion, including the modern countries ofIran, Iraq, Jordan, Syria, Lebanon, Israel,and Turkey (not to mention North Africaand the Saudi Arabian peninsula), all ofwhich feature tell-based sites. Using thefollowing models to generalize about thetell inhabitants of all these regions, overthe millennia of occupation, would, ofcourse, be conceptually flawed. Rather,this study focuses on the prehistoric habi-tational periods of mounded sites on theAnatolian plateau, the central region ofTurkey bordered by mountain ranges tothe north and south and by the foothills tothe west, which lead down to the AegeanSea (Fig. 1).2 The data from these sitesspans the Neolithic to the Early BronzeAge of Anatolia, dating roughly from the8th to the mid-3rd millennium B.C.3

Most of the sites discussed here wereexcavated in previous decades. They werechosen for this study because of the excel-lent architectural preservation and theirlengthy occupational history, not to men-tion there are few other sites in the pla-teau dating to the target periods. As isalways the case when using material fromsites excavated either in the past or withmethodologies focusing on other factors,the published data do not always offer thedesired detail necessary for the study athand. However, the models developed inthe following section can indeed be ap-plied to the targeted sites with significantresults. Even greater success can beachieved at currently excavated sites, suchas the author’s own, Cadir Hoyuk (see

2 All figures drawn by Carlton E. Burr, Technologyoordinator, SUNY Cortland.

3 The periodization used in this study is based oncorrected B.C. dates from chronologies compiled byMellink (1992) and Steadman (1995, 1996b).

poration of these models into the overallresearch project has the potential to vali-date the predicted outcomes suggested inthis study.

EXPLANATORY MODELS

This section presents some of the pre-vious research on the three areas of spatialorganization and manipulation of archi-tectural remains as they relate to sociobe-havioral processes and increasing com-plexity. The general models that haveresulted from this research are useful forexamining architectural remains on tellsites and for ascertaining whether, in thecarrying out of similar human behavioralprocesses, the use of space on tell sitesdiffers from that on flat sites. In otherwords, if similar or identical processestake place within tell-based and non-tell-based communities, will there be a differ-ential between the two sites in the manip-ulation of the built environment in orderto accommodate these processes?

First is a discussion of the partitioningand segmentation of architecture, as wellas building-size expansion, in societiesthat are experiencing increasing socioeco-nomic complexity. The discussion focuseson scholars who have employed data fromboth the New and Old Worlds, in fieldsconcentrating on household archaeologyand associated economic issues. Spatialanalysis and activity area research are alsoconsidered. The specific data presentedby these researchers permit the creationof a clear, generalized model of an in-creasingly complex society and the in-creasing need for greater amounts ofspace and a more complex use of thatspace.

Two other aforementioned architecturalelements, access analysis and proxemics,while certainly forms of spatial analysis,can also be viewed as resulting from thebroader perspective of architectural semi-

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otics, an area of research that seeks to One of the most important sets of stud-


understand the interaction between hu-man behavior, architecture, and spatialorder, particularly in prehistory (Eco 1980;Gardin 1992; Munro 1987; Preziosi 1979).Inherent in the field of architectural semi-otics, and in the subfields of this disci-pline, is the proposition that spatial orga-nization reflects social structure and thatan investigator can infer specific elementsof social behavior from that society’s ar-chitectural remains (Bourdieu 1973; Hillierand Hanson 1984; Rapoport 1976, 1982,1990). This concept is disputed (e.g., Leach1976), but as the research base on archi-tectural analysis grows, it appears increas-ingly certain that architecture does, to avarying degree, reflect aspects of humanbehavior, particularly social structure.

The discussion below surveys some ofthe important work done in these fieldsand subsequently identifies the general-ized models constructed to explain archi-tectural configurations as a response tochanges in societies as they experienceincreasing complexity. These generalizedmodels, constructed on the basis of datafrom non-tell settlements, and usually ap-plied to similar geomorphologically for-mulated settlements, will then be used asa framework for interpreting the architec-tural remains from tell settlements in Tur-key.

Social Complexity, Task Performance, andArchitectural Partitioning

The examination of the use of spacewithin the domestic unit embodies ele-ments of both household archaeology andspatial analysis, two fields of vital impor-tance to the archaeology of architecture.Several scholars, working in one or bothof these fields, have developed broad-spectrum models to address societal useof space and architectural organization asit progresses through the various stagestoward greater complexity.

ies addressing task performance and useof space was offered by Richard Wilk andWilliam Rathje (1982). Following this orig-inal work, and in conjunction with Wilk’scontinuing research (1989; Wilk and Ash-more 1988), numerous others have carriedout studies in the field that have come tobe known as household archaeology. Spe-cifically, they have addressed socioeco-nomic organization within the most basicunit in the societal structure, the house-hold (Allison 1999; Blanton 1994;MacEachern et al. 1989; Netting et al. 1984;Santley and Hirth 1993; Tringham et al.1985).

In their archaeological approach to thestudy of the household, Wilk and Rathjeregard economic concerns as the most im-portant factors in the shaping of thehousehold. They identify four categoriesof household functions that are most use-ful in defining the role of the householdwithin the community: production, distri-bution, transmission, and reproduction(1982:618–621). Of greatest interest atpresent is their model concerning produc-tion, since this household function has asignificant capacity to affect the use ofspace and architectural orientation, andthe material aspects of production make itthe most likely of the categories to be pre-served in the archaeological record (Wilkand Rathje 1982:624).

Wilk and Rathje define one of the pro-duction variables as the “scheduling ofproductive behavior,” which concerns theperformance of tasks. Tasks can be eitherlinear or simultaneous; linear tasks can bedone by one individual performing oneactivity after another, while simultaneoustasks are performed by a number of peo-ple at the same time (1982:622). Wilk andRathje further define simultaneous tasksas either simple or complex. Simple tasksare those which require a number of peo-ple to do the same thing; complex tasksare more specialized, with a number of

individuals working at the same time but within a settlement, particularly within a


performing different parts of the task(1982:622–623).

Though Wilk and Rathje caution thatthere is “no one household type or house-hold cycle in any society and there is nosimple relationship between stages ofevolution and household size” (1982:632),they do hazard some general observa-tions. They suggest that in societies wherecomplex task simultaneity is performed,large households are needed (1982:631).Based on their survey of various cultures,they conclude that large households aremore able to exploit various economic op-portunities and establish a greater powerbase, while small households tend to bemore mobile and seem better suited tosubsistence strategies and single, lineartask production (1982:632–633). This argu-ment suggests a general relationship be-tween larger households (and thereforehouse size) and greater social complexity.

Susan Kent’s ethnoarchaeological workon both hunter-gatherer and sedentarysocieties combines numerous areas of in-vestigation, including household archae-ology and spatial analysis (1984, 1987,1991, 1992). Kent’s approach uses cross-cultural analysis in order to construct ageneral model applicable to a variety ofdata assemblages. In her work on archi-tecture in sedentary societies, Kent’s in-terest centers on the segmentation (theideological division of space, which ismore difficult to trace archaeologically)and partitioning (the actual division ofspace, i.e., using walls, additional rooms,etc.) of domestic architecture (1990, 1991).Her analytical model rests on two basicpostulates: first, the organization of spaceand the degree of partitioning and seg-mentation within a settlement is commen-surate with that society’s level of complex-ity; and second, increased socialcomplexity produces increased segmenta-tion and partitioning (1990:127, 1991:439–445). Thus, the amount of partitioning

dwelling, reflects the level of sociopoliticalcomplexity within that society. Kent hastested her model by examining the archi-tecture and associated segmentation andpartitioning in societies at various levelsof sociopolitical complexity (1990:130–141,1991:455–460). In her model she definesincreasing complexity by such factors asgreater sociopolitical stratification, eco-nomic specialization and division of labor,and rigidly enforced gender differentia-tion.

Kent’s data assist significantly in validat-ing her view of the relationship betweenarchitecture and societal complexity,namely that “as groups become socially andpolitically more segmented (complex), theiruse of space and architecture also becomesmore segmented,” both ideologically andarchitecturally (1990:150). The generalizedframework that can be derived from Kent’swork again relates societal complexity to ar-chitectural complexity and potentially,therefore, to the size of the structure.

A similar theme can be found in thework done by Amos Rapoport on the hu-man interaction with the built environ-ment. In addressing human cultural be-havior and the manifestations of thatbehavior in the built environment, Rap-oport makes two assumptions: (a) there isa link between human behavior (i.e., cul-ture) and the built environment and (b)architecture encloses that behavior, thusmaking architecture both a physical man-ifestation of cultural activities and one ofmany “subsets” in the myriad elementsthat make up culture (1990:9–10). In hisanalysis, Rapoport deals specifically witha component of culture he terms “activitysystems,” a concept based on the secondassumption noted above, that architectureencloses behavior. He points out that builtenvironments provide a feedback mecha-nism that serves as a mnemonic device forbehavior in that space; consequently, the

architecture that encloses behavior will a concurrent need for a spatially ex-

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necessarily be shaped by it (1990:11).Often “props” or “cues” located in these

settings, perhaps in the form of furnitureor tools, serve to stimulate the appropriatebehavior (1990:13). Thus, multiple activi-ties, similar to Wilk and Rathje’s complextasks, may take place in the same location,but with different props. Rapoport notesthat in less complex societies, and partic-ularly in mobile ones, individuals are ableto perform tasks in an appropriate man-ner with a minimum of cues in only a fewareas (1982, 1990:17). As a society adjuststo increasingly higher levels of social andeconomic complexity, the number of ac-tivities and activity systems will inevitablyrise and more cues to the rising number ofincreasingly specialized activity systemsare necessary. These cues may come inthe form of enhanced or expanded archi-tectural features, including additionalrooms, as well as through elements of fur-niture and other items that are movable.Simply stated, in a society experiencingincreasing complexity, not only will therebe more activities, but there will be moreareas in which to perform them. This pro-cess may take place within a dwelling oracross the entire settlement.

The generalizations that can be derivedfrom the research discussed above con-cern the performance of tasks and activi-ties and the use of space as these tasks/activities become more complicatedand/or numerous. As the necessary workbecomes more complex, a greater degreeof spatial specialization is required, oftenresulting in residential expansion. Asmore complex tasks are performed, re-flecting a more broad-based economicproduction system, these greater spatialneeds result in larger households, in-creased partitioning, and more cues/props for appropriate behavior. Thus, as asociety experiences socioeconomic changeat the household level, the model predicts

panded and partitioned residence.As previously noted, these studies, as

well as the majority of others that haveexplored the use of space in the variousstages of human societies, have focusedon inhabitants of “flat” settlements. Con-sequently, most of the data generated bysuch studies have led researchers to placegreat emphasis on horizontal spatial ex-

ansion. However, this type of horizontalpatial expansion, producing larger, moreartitioned households as a response to

ncreased socioeconomic complexity, isot usually possible for tell inhabitants in

heir spatially challenged settlements. Thexamination of the Anatolian data belowllustrates that while the prehistoric in-abitants of these settlements did indeedxperience socioeconomic change, theonfigurations of their mounded locationsompelled them to seek alternate meth-ds in the manipulation of their built en-ironment in order to accommodate theireed for more specialized use of space.

ccess Analysis and Proxemics: Boundaries,Privacy, and Personal Space

The fields of access analysis and prox-mics are part of the broader study ofyntactical analyses of space (Chippen-ale 1992; Hillier and Hanson 1984; Hilliert al. 1976, 1987). Studies encompassingpace syntax focus on the spatial relation-hips within the built shell, including as-ects of accessibility, interrelationships be-

ween spaces, and the social meaningsehind the organization of a given space

Hillier and Hanson 1984). Many scholarsave interpreted the meanings embedded

n spatial patterning as examples of nonver-al communication within human societies

Fletcher 1981, 1989; Lentini 1988; Rapoport982, 1988). Such analyses encompass all as-ects of spatial patterning within and be-

ween architectural structures. The basicheory behind access analysis and prox-

emics can be seen in Gidden’s structuration socioeconomic orientation. A more direct


theory (1984:14–51), which views spatialmanipulation of the environment (built andunbuilt) as both producer and product ofsocial behavior (also discussed by Gutman1976; Rapoport 1976, 1990; Hillier and Han-son 1984).

Access analysis addresses the spatial,and consequently social, patterning andrelationships reflected in the structureand control of architectural boundariesand entrances (Foster 1989a, b; Lawrence1984, 1990; Sanders 1990:47–51). Theseboundaries, often invisible, serve to divideand control space, to allow access to someand deny it to others, and to provide anelement of privacy by marking public ver-sus nonpublic areas, i.e., providing transi-tional zones between public/private space(Altman 1975; Rapoport 1977; Fletcher1995:5–7). Proxemics, closely related to ac-cess analysis, seeks to assess individualterritoriality and the need for interper-sonal space within and between architec-tural structures (Ciolek 1980; Hall 1968,1974).

Both access analysis and proxemics de-rive from studies by E. Hall, who strove toconstruct models based on what he be-lieved to be cultural universals: behavioralmechanisms and the organization of per-sonal space (Hall 1966, 1968; Hillier andHanson 1984:6–7). Hall, among others,suggests that some cultural universals canbe found in all human societies: a desirefor a certain amount of personal space(culturally variable), territoriality or thecreating and defining of boundaries; and aneed for privacy (Ciolek 1980; Greverus1976; Hall 1966; Rapoport 1977; Sack 1986;Watson 1970). Embedded within thesestudies is the relationship between soci-etal structure and privacy, i.e., that themanipulation of space and architecturalfeatures (doors, walls, etc.) reflects the de-sire for greater control over boundaries,and private and/or personal space as thegiven culture grows more complex in its

statement of this premise might be: Theneed for privacy and interpersonal space,as well as a sense of territoriality, in-creases as human society increases in eco-nomic and political complexity (Lawrence1990; Hodder 1990; Rapoport 1982; Pear-son and Richards 1994; Sack 1986:55–77).However, this is a simplistic rendering ofa rather complicated concept concerningthe understanding of “privacy,” culturalvariability, and human relationships asthey all pertain to the use of space; thus,for the purposes of this study, the issue ofwhat constitutes “privacy” needs furtherexamination and clarification. In many so-cieties, including western cultures, the de-sire for interpersonal space is linked to theconcept of “privacy” and raises issues ofintimacy and relationships. Some scholarsassert that “privacy” is a biological needin humans and thus is to be found inevery society, while others suggest it is a“basic human right” (see Wilson1988:170–184 and Birdwell-Pheasant andLawrence-Zuniga 1999:10–24 for a sub-stantial discussion on previous literaturetreating humans and privacy).

In Wilson’s work on the “domestica-tion” of humans, by which he means theconstruction of the built environment, heclosely examines the notion of privacy inall its facets. He notes that “spatial privacyis an invention of domestication” and fur-ther explains that manipulating space toprovide privacy against “unwanted intru-sion” allows humans authority over be-longings and self (1988:173, 177). Of par-ticular interest to the present study isWilson’s focus on issues of privacy be-tween houses rather than within houses.Arguments against a universal humanneed for what is considered “privacy” canbe easily mounted when examining thevariety of cramped and crowded livingquarters humans have inhabited for mil-lennia. While intrafamily/intrahousehold“privacy issues” are indeed of interest and

worth further exploration, the focus here ment, including aspects of access and pri-


is between public/private space betweenresidential structures and access (bothbodily and by sight) by “strangers,” i.e.,nonhousehold members. Wilson finds, inhis survey of numerous cultures, that so-cieties which have only minimal “privacy”within the home undertake considerableeffort to provide privacy (blocked sight/bodily access) from neighbors (1988:179).

An attempt to divine the cultural notionof privacy as it pertains to the inhabitantsof prehistoric Anatolia, or anywhere else,at any time, is indeed beyond the param-eters of this study and the abilities of theauthor. However, a narrower focus on theconcept of “authority over personal be-longings” through the manipulation ofspace, control over access, and the con-struction of boundaries is within reason. Ithas been noted, for instance, that manysocieties make front:public/back:privatecorrelations (Giddens 1984:122–126; Port-noy 1981); rooms or areas considered pri-vate or public vary (kitchens, for example,can fall in either category), though sleep-ing areas and areas devoted to personalhygiene are usually considered back:private (Portnoy 1981:215; Rapoport 1982:118). A number of studies have noted thata greater emphasis on “private space”—back space—versus space that is accessi-ble to the “public” or nonhouseholdmembers—public space—is correlativewith changes in socioeconomic organiza-tion, notably with the greater possessionof material wealth.

Sally Foster employed an access analy-sis-based model in her study of Iron Agehouses in Orkney (1989a, b). She used thegamma analysis model first constructedby Hillier and Hanson (1984) as a meansfor examining the architectural remainsand social structure in Iron Age settle-ments in Orkney. In her diachronic anal-ysis, which spans the Early to Late IronAge (1989b:34–41) and focuses on archi-tectural configurations within the settle-

vacy, Foster observed a change in socialorganization, particularly an increase insocial stratification. She defined a clearcorrelation between the development ofsocial hierarchy and an increase in bound-ary controls and limits on access illus-trated by the number of intrasettlementwalls, additional architectural segmenta-tion, and settlement size expansion(1989a:47–49; 1989b:45–50). Furthermore,Foster documented that the places mostinaccessible to noninhabitants of that lo-cality were the areas housing the storageand sleeping facilities (1989b:45). Foster’swork shows a clear correlation betweenincreasing social complexity from theEarly to Late Iron Age of Orkney and acorresponding change in the settlement’sarchitectural organization, which exhibitsgreater boundary controls over individualdwellings, particularly those of the elites,and an increase in “private spaces” (withgreater access limitations) within thedwelling (1989b:43–46).

Donald Sanders investigated similar is-sues at the Early Bronze Age Minoan set-tlement of Myrtos, an agrarian-based so-ciety practicing significant craft-specialization and long-distance trade anddiffering levels of material wealth andhouse size (1990). Sanders reached similarconclusions to those found in Foster’sstudy regarding the types of householdareas that receive the greatest degree ofprivacy and see the greatest number ofboundary controls. Sanders found thatwithin the Early Bronze Age Myrtoshouses he could identify back:privatezones in contrast to front:public zones(1990:68–69). The back:private zones werelargely inaccessible because of boundarycontrols and were reserved for activitiessuch as sleeping and storage (1990:69). Henotes that a relatively high level of accesscontrol regulated the behavior of bothhouse inhabitants and “strangers” anddefined a carefully ordered hierarchy of

private versus nonprivate areas (1990:69–

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Orkney houses, to Bronze Age Cretan


71). It seems safe to conclude that the highdegree of behavioral regulation throughaccess controls and boundaries is to beexpected given the level of socioeconomiccomplexity at Myrtos.

A recent study on changing architec-tural forms in Portugal also traces the cor-relation between socioeconomic changeand residential forms, namely toward agreater degree of family and individualprivacy (Lawrence-Zuniga 1999). Law-rence-Zuniga’s study examines the aspectof material culture as the agent of changein shifting attitudes toward house struc-ture and the construction of physicalboundaries such as walls, doors, and win-dows (1999:157–158). The study focuses onrural Portuguese villages, examininghousehold and residential structures fromthe 19th century to recent times. In tracingchanges in the agrotown of Vila Branca,Lawrence-Zuniga charts a new house typeappearing in the early 20th century. Shenotes that these new houses were built byfamilies who had acquired some affluencein the village. Introduced into these newhouse forms was “the concept of the semi-private space where residents could en-gage in conversations with casual visitorsbeyond the view of their neighbors’ pry-ing eyes” (Lawrence-Zuniga 1999:164).Each new house featured a sala, or parlor,eserved for guests, and it was locatedoward the front of the house. The backortion of the house was considered pri-ate and was restricted to intrahouseholdesidents. Yet another new house type haseveloped since the 1970s. Notable in this

hird generation of houses are gardenshat separate the house from the street,alls between the properties of neighbor-

ng homes, and the reinforcement of theack:front, private:public concepts inouse forms (Lawrence-Zuniga 1999:166–73).Though there are numerous variables

resent in a comparison of Iron Age

homes, and finally to modern Portugueseresidences, one notable consistency is thedesire, on the part of the inhabitants ofthese different settlements, to increaseboundaries, restrict access, and controlspace more carefully as their materialwealth increases. In many cases, includingthose studies cited above, residentsachieve increased privacy and territorial-ity by building more walls and doorways,creating more and further partitionedrooms, and separating their homes fromneighbors.

As societal structures increase in socio-economic complexity, and as residentsgain more wealth within their households,their desire for greater access controls andauthority over their own personal spacesmanifests itself in several architecturalcharacteristics: additional walls and a re-positioning of doors to obstruct line-of-sight views into the household interior, agreater emphasis on back:private/front:public household organization, and amore substantial separation from neigh-boring houses through the use of spatialdivides such as gardens or courtyards. Aswas seen in the studies cited above, thesearchitectural innovations often serve toexpand the size of the household and eventhe settlement. Such expansion on tellsites, however, is a luxury usually unavail-able to these inhabitants. The followingsection explores the data from prehistoricAnatolian mounded settlements and illus-trates how these tell inhabitants adaptedthe human behavioral patterns discussedabove to an environment with significantspatial limitations.

DATA FROM TELL-BASED SITES INPREHISTORIC ANATOLIA

The initial formation of the human-gen-erated mounds discussed here is, in mostcases, still only hazily understood (seeRosen 1986 for the formation of mounds).

Generally the earliest inhabitants chose a

toi

on the elevated mound region, restricting

aiotmga“icimnqei


natural rise in the landscape on which tosettle (Summers 1993:32), and as genera-tions of occupations succeeded one an-other, the level of the living area becameincreasingly elevated. In the Bronze Agewhen large towns and even cities formed,inhabitants began building homes andbusinesses on the terraces below the mainmound [e.g., Alishar Hoyuk (Gorny 1994,1995), etc.]. There are also examples ofeven earlier settlements spreading down-ward off the actual mound, a factor ofoccupation sometimes missed becausesuch settlement is often buried under al-luvial and erosional deposits. Recent ex-cavations at sites such as Titris Hoyuk andKazane in southeastern Turkey (Matneyet al. 1999; Rosen 1997) have noted Neo-lithic/Chalcolithic and Early Bronze re-mains at the base of these mounds. It isquite possible that the rarity of such pre-historic settlement on the region belowthe mounds is an accident of excavation(i.e., noninvestigated due to the heavyoverburden at the base of mounded sites);in fact there is some evidence to suggestthat Neolithic inhabitants at Catal Hoyukmay have settled the base of the mound(Hodder 1996).4 However, present excava-ion data indicates that the vast majorityf the prehistoric smaller village and town

nhabitants remained, for the most part,

4 It is, in fact, a point of interest to this author thatt some point in these long-lived settlements inhab-tants ventured “off-mound” in choosing the locationf their homes. Future investigations can and shouldarget this phenomenon and its cause(s). Is settle-

ent expansion off-mound simply a product ofrowing (over-) population or can other factors suchs the development of social stratification (i.e., thepushing off” of the nonelites to nonmounded hab-tation locations), the diversification of labor andraft production (full-time craft-producers remain-ng on-mound while farmers and herders live off-

ound nearer their livelihood), or other socioeco-omic or political causes also be at work? Suchuestions are ripe for investigation by those inter-sted in community social structure and spatial stud-es.

spatial expansion. In some cases, notedbelow, restriction was increased by thebuilding of defensive or flood-abatementwalls. Whether for defensive reasons, toavoid flooding, or for (as yet undiscov-ered) more cultural, and even symbolic,reasons, the residents of Neolithic andChalcolithic central Anatolia by and largeremained atop their mounded landscapes.This unique habitational choice makespossible the examination of changing ar-chitectural styles in relationship to socio-economic organization on these long-lived settlements.

The Anatolian sites included in this di-achronic survey have habitation levelsthat span the earliest Neolithic in the 8thmillennium B.C. to the 3rd millenniumEarly Bronze Age. The discussion focuseson the material evidence for socioeco-nomic activities and the architectural or-ganization present in each of the targetedperiods. The discussion is arranged chro-nologically, beginning with the earliestNeolithic levels. This follows the strati-graphic layout of the sites (in reverse, ofcourse), but also allows for the tracing ofsocioeconomic change over time. Suchchanges, usually in the form of increasingeconomic complexity, are not uniform byperiod, nor present at every site; however,where socioeconomic reorganization isfound, it will be noted, a concurrent archi-tectural reorganization is also present.Though only a few sites are included inthe database (those that are extensivelyexcavated with lengthy sequences fromthis region of Anatolia), the evidence issufficient to generate the framework foran interpretive model regarding develop-ing socioeconomic complexity and archi-tectural forms on Near Eastern tell sites.

Task Performance and SpatialReconfiguration: Tell Alternatives

The models discussed above predict theinnovation of three architectural configu-

rations in relationship to increasing socio- of habitation during this period. In the


economic complexity: house size expan-sion, increased interior partitioning, andgreater numbers of props and cues forbehavior. In contrast to the careful anddetailed studies of socioeconomic stagesof complexity examined in those studies,the criteria used to trace socioeconomicchange and increasing complexity at thetarget sites is necessarily more general-ized due to the data available from thesepreviously excavated settlements. The fol-lowing discussion includes a descriptionof the subsistence activities and range ofdomesticates (both plants and animals)present in the different habitational peri-ods. Besides detailed descriptions of resi-dential structures, other characteristicssuch as evidence for activity areas, craftproduction, and specialized intra- or in-terhousehold areas are discussed, partic-ularly in reference to changes over time attargeted settlements. Long-distance tradeis also considered as an element for ana-lyzing the socioeconomic organization atthe settlements; material evidence ofwealth differentiation is also examined. Inshort, any data indicating a change in so-cioeconomic complexity, or a lack thereof,is discussed in relation to the contempo-rary architectural organization. Accord-ingly, a solid case can be made for a cor-relation between socioeconomic changes,often in terms of increasing economiccomplexity and task performance, and aconcomitant adjustment in the domesticarchitecture in order to meet the changingneeds of the prehistoric Anatolian inhab-itants.

Anatolian Aceramic and Early CeramicNeolithic

The Aceramic/Early Ceramic Neolithic(early 8th to late 7th millennia B.C.) in thecentral plateau is as yet sparsely repre-sented, but excavations at several sites aresufficient to yield an architectural picture

Aceramic Neolithic and into the Early Ce-ramic Neolithic, Anatolia sees the transi-tion to seasonally occupied farming com-munities, along with the domestication ofsheep, goats, and cattle. The inhabitants ofAceramic and Early Ceramic Neolithicsites in Turkey depended mainly on sub-sistence-based agriculture, supplementedby some hunting and gathering, with nofull-time, and little evidence of part-time,craft specialization, though indications doexist of an involvement in long-distanceobsidian exchange (Moore 1983; Renfrewet al. 1966; Steadman 1996b). Canhasan IIIand Canhasan I, located in the southernregion of the plateau, are representative ofthe typical architectural layout at Ace-ramic and Early Ceramic Neolithic Anato-lian sites.

Canhasan (Mounds III and I). Themounds of Canhasan, numbered I, II, andIII (French 1998:1–3), were all excavated inthe 1960s. The work was undertaken atthese mounds to fill in the enormous gapsin the ceramic sequence of the plateauand to use the ceramic assemblage totrace the pattern of intraregional trade(French 1962:29, 1998:8). All three adjacentsites lie in a treeless plain with no nearbywater source and rocky soil (French 1998:1–6). This is probably similar to the settingin the Neolithic; the location may havebeen chosen for its proximity to traderoutes rather than for agrarian needs. Theearliest phases on mound III date to theAceramic early 8th millennium, with laterNeolithic and Chalcolithic phases promi-nent on mound I (French 1970, 1998;French et al. 1972). The Aceramic remainsat mound III demonstrate the early stagesof domesticated agriculture, including do-mesticated einkorn and emmer wheat andlentils (French et al. 1972:187) and possiblysome animal husbandry involving sheep,goat, cattle, and pig (Payne 1972).

The architecture at Canhasan III exhib-its houses built of both mudbrick and pise

1998:21–25). In the case of the two-roomed

r1


that are agglomerated and party-walled(French et al. 1972:182). The domesticunits are single-celled, with very smallcourtyards interspersed across the settle-ment (Fig. 2). A few alleys may have sep-arated some of the housing units. No in-ternal partitioning of the domestic units isevident, and the houses appear more orless uniform in size and construction. Be-cause of its proximity to Anatoliansources, Canhasan exhibits a large pro-portion of obsidian in its lithic assem-blage. However, there is no evidence of a“lithic workshop” area, and there is littleevidence to suggest extensive craft spe-cialization existed.

At Canhasan I, Layers 7–5 date to theEarly Ceramic Neolithic (French 1998:20),and the excavator notes that Layer 4, dat-ing to the Late Ceramic Neolithic, exhibitsno substantial architectural changes fromthe previous occupational levels (1998:21).The architectural layout at Canhasan I,Layers 7–4, does not deviate significantlyfrom the remains on the Canhasan IIImound, nor is there any appreciablechange from the mixed farming/herdingeconomy demonstrated at the Aceramicsite. Houses continue to be agglomerated,rectangular, one- or two-roomed struc-tures, with no evidence of second-storyusage or internal partitioning (French

FIG. 2. Plan of architectural remains from Ace-amic Neolithic Can Hasan III (after French et al.972, Fig. 4).

structure excavated in Layer 5, it wasnoted that one of the rooms was devotedto grain storage and some grain bins hadbeen constructed (French 1998:23). The ex-cavator suggests that grinding stones(querns and mortars) found in thesehouses indicates that the grinding activi-ties took place in the household due to theabsence of a courtyard area (French 1998:66). In short, there appears little architec-tural differentiation from the Aceramicthrough the Neolithic at these two sites.

Kurucay. The site of Kurucay, exca-vated by R. Duru in the 1980s (Duru 1980,1983, 1986, 1987, 1994; Eslick 1988) is lo-cated slightly northeast of Hacilar (see be-low). Initial settlement took place on anatural rise near the Lake Burdur basin(Duru 1994:95). The remains at this sitespan the Neolithic and Chalcolithic ofAnatolia, with Level 12 dating to the EarlyCeramic Neolithic and Level 11 falling abit later in the Neolithic (Duru 1994:96).

Preservation in Level 12 (Early CeramicNeolithic) was sketchy, but at least threeresidences were identified. These struc-tures, with stone foundations and mud-brick superstructures, were single-roomed residences consisting of a mixturebetween agglomerated and independent,but attached, walls (Duru 1994:99). Therewas no identifiable internal partitioning orbuttressing, and the floors of these struc-tures demonstrated numerous grindingand mill stones and a horseshoe-shapedhearth in one house, indicating these wereprobably single-storied dwellings (Duru1994:99–100). Unfortunately, the area ofexcavation and limited preservation of re-mains was not sufficient to show whetherthese houses sided on a courtyard or blockof similarly constructed structures.

Level 11, unfortunately, produced al-most no residential architecture, butrather a fairly substantial and “impres-sive” fortification wall, with rounded tow-ers, was discovered (Duru 1988, 1994:11–

12, 99). Duru suggests that a rather communal in nature, the exception to this


substantial flood may have washed outthe houses in Level 11, at least in the areaof excavation, thus obscuring the settle-ment layout during this period (1994:99).

The excavator notes several interestingfactors regarding the Neolithic (as well asthe Chalcolithic) levels at this site. Thefirst of these, perhaps the most remark-able, is that the excavations revealed ab-solutely no evidence of domesticatedplants or animals at the site (Duru 1994:109–110). Duru concludes that in the caseof the Kurucay villagers, “their cerealsmust have been imported, and their meatobtained primarily by hunting” (1994:110).This is particularly interesting when con-sidering that the excavator believes thatthe Neolithic habitation at Kurucay wasmore than just a seasonal one (1994:110–111). Though not extensive, the evidencefrom the Neolithic levels at Kurucay offersthe picture of somewhat sedentary villag-ers who practiced a modified hunting-gathering economy (or possibly tradedwith nearby Hacilar for grain products).There is little evidence for full- or part-time craft specialization. With the excep-tion of somewhat varying economies, theoverall socioeconomic organization atNeolithic Canhasan III and I and Kurucaydoes not appear to be substantially differ-ent.

The domestic remains from the Ace-ramic and Early Ceramic Neolithic sitessurveyed here correspond to a period ofearly farming societies, initial sedentiza-tion, and basic subsistence strategies. Res-idential quarters consisted of small, party-walled, agglomerated, or independent butattached structures with small courtyardsinterspersed. The walls do not appear tosupport more than a roof, suggesting asingle-story residence. Dwellings are usu-ally single-celled with little or no internalpartitioning for division of space. Mostdaily activities probably took place in thecourtyards, which were almost certainly

being Canhasan I, Layer 5, where nocourtyards were noted. Identifiable cuesto activities are primarily food-related, in-cluding grinding stones and cooking ar-eas. In general fashion, therefore, the res-idents of these mixed farming/herding(hunting/gathering in the case of Kuru-cay) settlements built closely knit, utilitar-ian single-celled homes with space forcommunal activities and little area for ex-tensive storage or task performance.

Later Ceramic Neolithic

There are many more excavated sites incentral Anatolia dating to the Later Ce-ramic Neolithic (late 7th to early 6th mil-lennia). Inhabitants in this period ex-panded their activity base, engaging inmore long-distance trade and developingsome craft specialization. In some casesthe data suggest some wealth-differenti-ated social groupings existed. More com-plex task performance comes about, ow-ing to the increase in craft specializationand the economic production within thehousehold (including surplus food). Tosatisfy the needs of a growing number ofnecessary tasks, a concurrent increase inthe need for additional space is expressedin the architectural remains of Late Ce-ramic Neolithic dwellings, evidenced atsites such as Hacilar and Catal Hoyuk.

Hacilar. Hacilar is located in the Bur-dur basin toward the southwestern edgeof the plateau. The Ceramic Neolithic lev-els (IX–VI) indicate a mixed farming econ-omy with a variety of domesticated plants(Helbeak 1970), though there was little ev-idence of domesticated animals and meatproducts were probably obtained throughhunting (Westley 1970). There were nu-merous objects present in the domesticareas that can be considered “nonessen-tial” to daily household activities; the ex-cavator, J. Mellaart, notes the presence ofwhite marble vessels which he designates

a “luxury ware,” and numerous clay figu-


rines, mostly female, found in nearly ev-ery home, either under the householdhearth, on the floor, or in grain storagebins (1970:10–22, 149). Other discoveriesinclude beaded jewelry, primarily foundin burials, other decorative objects such asear and nose plugs, cosmetic containers,mother-of-pearl and shell pendants, anddecorative clay plaques (Mellaart1970:158–164). Many of these materials arenonlocal and must have arrived at the set-tlement through a regional trade network.These items, in addition to the usual com-pliment of chipped stone, bone, and antlertools, are found in every household. Theexcavator repeatedly terms the late Neo-lithic Hacilar inhabitants (particularlythose in the best preserved Level VI),“wealthy farmers” throughout his report.

Hacilar’s best Neolithic architectural re-mains come from Level VI (Fig. 3); theexcavator suggests that the population atthis period hovered around 250 persons(1970:22). Each house had a single room,with its own oven and hearth, and smallcupboards and storage bins (Mellaart1970:14–15). These single-roomed unitswere internally partitioned by the use ofwaist-high screens built of sticks and plas-ter (Mellaart 1970:14). According to the ex-cavator, most of the personal possessionsof the inhabitants were found in thescreened-off part of the house. Thesescreened-off portions were often in thecorners farthest from the main doorway.In addition to the single-roomed struc-tures, each domestic unit was providedwith a small external room that the exca-vator calls a “kitchen” (Mellaart 1970:15).These food-preparation areas were lo-cated adjacent to the doorway, in thecourtyard, and each possessed a light roof,hearths, ovens, grinding platforms, stor-age bins, benches, and cooking pots.Much of the courtyard may have servedcommunal purposes, but at least a portionof it was devoted to food-preparation ar-

eas that were independently attached toeach house. In addition to food prepara-tion, there are numerous clay storage bins,indicating the presence of surplus grains(Mellaart 1970:8–15). It is unclear whetherthere is a correlation between bins andresidences, indicating individual house-hold possession of these bins.

There is some evidence of part-timecraft specialization, primarily in regard tothe production of the ubiquitous clay fig-urines and textiles. Figurines were discov-ered in nearly every home in locationsassociated with food production and foodstorage. However, in three adjacenthouses, numerous figurines, totaling 5, 32,and 11 in each house, were present.Though 5 figurines is not a substantialnumber, at least one of these was unbakedand may indicate a midpoint in produc-tion; in the houses with 32 and 11, quite a

FIG. 3. Plan of architectural remains from Neo-lithic Level VI at Hacilar (after Mellaart 1970:13, Plan7).

few were still unbaked, though all were the herding of domesticated cattle, with


completely formed (Mellaart 1970:21). It ispossible that these three homes housedthe figurine craft-producers for the settle-ment. In addition to the figurines, severalhouses yielded numerous spindle whorls,suggesting the presence of some level oftextile production in the Level VI occupa-tion (Yakar 1991:156).

A second story was available to theHacilar VI inhabitants. The upper storieswere built of wood and plaster, with thickflat roofs which were supported by nu-merous posts scattered throughout thehouses (Mellaart 1970:16). It is suggestedhere that the rooftop activity area was ne-cessitated by the increased number of ac-tivities carried out at the settlement. Sincehorizontal expansion was not possible,vertical spatial configuration was initi-ated.

Catal Hoyuk. Catal Hoyuk (Mellaart1967; Todd 1976) is located in the KonyaPlain of southcentral Anatolia and has re-mains spanning the late 7th and 6th mil-lennia B.C. There are actually two moundsat this site, designated “east” and “west,”separated by a river valley which forms aboundary to each site. The excavator, Mel-laart, concentrated primarily on the largereastern mound which demonstrated theearlier Neolithic remains. Excavations re-sumed under the direction of Ian Hodderin the 1990s (Hodder 1996). While inhab-ited, the site was bounded by water chan-nels, some dating to the later Neolithicaccording to the excavator, the Carsambariver valley, and land best described as a“swampy” marshland (Mellaart 1967:30–32; Shane and Kucuk 1998:47). Habitation,therefore, remained atop the mound atthis site.

Faunal and botanical evidence suggeststhe inhabitants practiced a mixed farm-ing/herding subsistence. Carbonizedplant remains show evidence of domesti-cated and wild wheat, barley, and pea(Helbeak 1964); the inhabitants relied on

supplemental hunting of deer, boar, andsheep (Perkins, Jr. 1969). This settlement isoften described not as a “village,” but as a“township” based on its size and socio-economic sophistication (Lloyd 1980:9).Remains were recovered from nine levels,IX–I; the best preserved and most archi-tecturally prolific levels are VII–V, datingto the early 6th millennium. Though noevidence of a defensive wall was found atthe site, the excavator does suggest thatthe style of building, and the contiguousconstruction of exterior house walls, pre-sented a blank outer wall to those outsidethe settlement and acted as both defen-sive wall and village perimeter (Mellaart1967:68–69). It should be noted that otherssuggest this wall protected the CatalHoyuk inhabitants not from enemies butfrom flood waters (Cohen 1970:124; Yakar1991:205). Whatever the purpose of thisexterior wall, it served as a border to thesettlement and thus defined the spatialconfiguration of the settlement proper.

The excavator suggests that “full-time[craft] specialization is fairly obvious andthe workshops lay elsewhere on themound. The variety of arts and craftspractised at Catal Hoyuk is nearly as greatas that of the developed civilizations of theEarly Bronze Age” (1967:225–226). Whilethis may be an overstatement, the varietyof utilitarian and luxury items are too nu-merous to have resulted entirely fromtrade. Mellaart uses negative evidence(the lack of craft areas in the houses) topostulate the existence of a “bazaar”where local crafters sold their wares (1967:211). Again, while this supposition may bea leap in logic, the fact remains that thefinely worked obsidian and stone imple-ments, the variety of jewelry of variousmaterials, the rudimentary uses of metal,evidence of basketry and textile produc-tion, and, of course, ceramic production,are indicative of at the least part-time craftspecialization at this site.

Though crafts may have been locally

dph

rcwau1Hp“hssssaal

5


produced, materials had to have been ob-tained from elsewhere. Long-distancetrade is documented by the presence ofMediterranean shells, semipreciousstones, metal ore for jewelry (copper andlead), and other items obtained from theTaurus Mountains (in southeastern Tur-key) and from farther away (Mellaart 1967:210–220). This site’s location near centralAnatolian obsidian sources most certainlyplayed a role in its participation in a tradenetwork.

As at Hacilar, various items have beenexcavated that indicate ritual practice, in-cluding human figurines, human skulls,wall paintings, and animals in plaster re-lief projecting from walls (Mellaart 1967:77–130). The excavator suggests that manyof the Neolithic structures in these levelsshould be identified as “ritual centers”rather than domestic units. Others main-tain that all the structures were houses,with internalized symbolic representationof the ritual belief system (Hodder 1987;Ritchey 1996:7; Shane and Kucuk 1998),this latter explanation, in the opinion ofthis author, is the more likely of the two.Whether some of these structures were forspecialized use or not, it is certain thatsome type of ritual activity was takingplace, including perhaps a bull/animalcult, possibly a fertility cult, some type ofancestor worship (based on the use of thehuman skulls), or a combination of thesepractices (Hodder 1990:3–11). Althoughthere is some degree of standardization inthe shape and structure of the houses(Todd 1976:25–27), there is some differen-tiation in the size and internal decoration,with some of the larger houses exhibitingmore wall painting and applied decora-tion (Hodder 1987:44).

A correlative differentiation exists in theintramural burials excavated at the site,with roughly 3–5% of the burials receivingexceptionally specialized treatment, andthese are generally interred under the

floors of the larger houses (Mellaart 1967:207). Whether this differential treatmentin burials indicates a religious elite, assuggested by the excavator (Mellaart 1967:206–209), or some other basis for socioeco-nomic differentiation, the inhabitants atCeramic Neolithic Catal Hoyuk do exhibit

ifferential treatment of individuals in theossession of material goods, associatedousing, and burial treatment.The domestic units at Catal Hoyuk, best

epresented by Levels VII–VI (Fig. 4), wereontiguous in style, some were party-alled while others had independent but

ttached walls; blocks of houses were sit-ated around open courtyards (Mellaart967:56–63; Ritchey 1996:Fig. 1.15).ouses were single-celled but internallyartitioned, sometimes with two or morerooms” partitioned off. Each house had aearth and oven, storage facilities, andome offered platforms, possibly forleeping. In addition, internal furnishingsuch as benches were found in numeroustructures. The walls were substantial,nd posts for roof support were scatteredcross the domestic areas, similar to theayout described for Hacilar.

FIG. 4. Plan of architectural remains from Neo-lithic Level VIB at Catal Hoyuk (after Mellaart 1967:9, Fig. 9).

Architecture in VIB is similar to Level tween the earlier and later sites. Canhasan


VII, though with additional support pillarsand even more congested architecturalblocks. Mellaart suggests that inhabitantswere confined due to their desire to stayatop the oval mound and by the defensivenature of the contiguous exterior architec-ture (1967:68). This densely packed habi-tation eased somewhat in Level VIA withlarger and more frequent courtyards(Mellaart 1967:68; Ritchey 1996:Fig. 1.13–1.14); whether this reflects a decrease inpopulation or a movement of some occu-pants off the mound is unclear. However,features such as interior partitioning, in-dividual hearths, ovens, storage bins,painted walls, and internal furniture re-main consistent from the previous LevelVII.

The roofs in these levels were substan-tial and strong enough to support activity;having found no ground-level doorways,the excavator suggests that access to resi-dences was via the rooftops. Though thiscertainly provided some security as a de-fensive measure, it may have impinged abit on privacy, particularly if individualhouseholds did not have their own roof-top doorways. As was noted at Hacilar,faced with an expanding economy, the in-habitants at Neolithic Catal Hoyuk care-fully structured their space to achieve themaximum potential to accomplish theirincreasingly numerous and complextasks.

It is clear that the inhabitants of LaterCeramic Neolithic sites such as CatalHoyuk and Hacilar were engaged in sig-nificantly more activities, both in craftproduction and food production, than in-habitants at earlier sites such as Canhasanand Kurucay. Evidence of increased long-distance trade, surplus food production,craft specialization (perhaps close to full-time at Catal Hoyuk and even Hacilar),and some wealth differentiation is foundat these later sites. There is a clear corre-lation in architectural organization be-

and Kurucay demonstrate more basic andutilitarian residential needs, with minimalneeds for partitioning, or spatial expan-sion, and few cues to different behaviors.

The opposite can be noted at Catal andHacilar, whose residents sought greaterdivision of space, storage areas for per-sonal items, and additional space for taskperformance, all resulting in partitioningwalls and second-story expansion. Cues toa variety of behaviors and tasks, includingritual and personal areas, food-prepara-tion and cooking areas, craft-productionareas (e.g., figurines and textiles), andsleeping/eating (benches?) areas, arepresent in the households at both sites.There appears a clear correlation betweena great level of socioeconomic complexityand a concurrent adjustment in architec-tural needs. Houses are larger (two-sto-ried), more extensively partitioned, andscattered with more numerous cues to be-havior.

Anatolian Early Chalcolithic

The Early Chalcolithic in Anatolia (mid-6th to early 5th millennia B.C.) is a periodof continued socioeconomic and politicalchange. At some sites, household craftspecialization becomes a mainstay as doesdifferentiation in house size and wealthdistribution, suggesting that elements ofsocial stratification are present. Most in-habitants enjoy a range of domesticates ofboth plant and animal variety. The Ana-tolian painted pottery tradition is intro-duced and examples of specialized craftsare evident. Many of the materials presentat Early and Middle Chalcolithic sites in-dicate that the inhabitants are further de-veloping long-range trade relations andexpanding their repertoire of part-timecraft specialization. These types of socio-economic changes, already well underwayat sites such as Hacilar and Catal Hoyukin the Neolithic, are just beginning at


other settlements like Kurucay andCanhasan I.

Hacilar. The Early Chalcolithic atHacilar is found in Levels V–I. The lastNeolithic level (VI) was destroyed by fire;following this conflagration the inhabit-ants rebuilt their Level V settlement withonly lightly constructed, interim houseswhich are poorly preserved (Mellaart1970:23). Fires and settlement shift towardthe northwestern quarter of the mounddescribe Levels IV and III, and thus thefirst substantial architectural remainscome from Level II. The settlement inHacilar II decreased somewhat in size[dropping to an estimated 150 persons(1970:37)], allowing the excavator to revealwhat he believes to be the entire settle-ment (Fig. 5). Occupation in this levelspans the later 6th millennium and is sit-uated on the highest elevations of themound (Mellaart 1970:25).

The town is ringed by a thick mudbrick

FIG. 5. Plan of architectural remains from Ea1970:26–27, Plan 20).

defensive wall, complete with towers seton stone foundations at the corners of therectangular-shaped settlement. This de-limits the space available to the residents,but in no way hindered their endeavors tocreate a dynamic and active village life.According to the excavator, the settlementis divided into quarters, or neighbor-hoods, each with its own character. Mel-laart notes that the western and easternquarters were residential, and the centralquarter consisted of a ceramic-productioncenter (1970:28).

The two residential neighborhoods aredifferentiated by both the size of thehouses and the material goods withinthem. The western quarter, clearly themore wealthy of the village, boasted two-roomed houses, with screened-off rooms,storage bins, and postholes and buttressesfor the support of a second story. The gen-eral ceramic assemblage demonstratesmore fine wares with a greater number of

Chalcolithic Level II at Hacilar (after Mellaart
rly

nonutilitarian items coming from this half in the Early Chalcolithic at Hacilar, the


of the settlement. One house in the south-west corner, the highest area of themound, is notable due to its larger size(three rooms), the presence of a breadoven, clay seals, a painted figure, and acourtyard with a raised platform (Mellaart1970:29). The excavator’s inclination is toidentify this structure as a shrine, but itcan just as easily have been the residenceof a personage of some importance in theHacilar community.

In contrast to the western quarter, theeastern neighborhood displays smallerhomes, more like a “warren” according tothe excavator, with numerous courtyards,kitchens, and some storage areas. Post-holes are evident, and standard utilitarianitems are found in each household (Mel-laart 1970:34–35). Though the houses arenot substantially smaller than those foundin the western quarter, they are built oflesser quality materials and are not assturdy or well organized as those towardthe west. However, these homes, andsome of the courtyards, also made use of asecond story. The excavator notes that thisarea “should be regarded as being thequarter of the poorer section of the popu-lation, who constructed their buildingswith simpler materials but no less neatly”(1970:34).

Of considerable interest is the “potters’quarter” which Mellaart describes as hav-ing no evidence of domestic accouter-ments such as grain bins, food-prepara-tion areas, or sleeping platforms, but wasrather devoted entirely to ceramic pro-duction (1970:30–31). Material finds in thisarea include clay bins filled with clay, nu-merous ceramics in various stages of pro-duction, and querns and mortars exhibit-ing ochre rather than food remains; kilnswere not found but the excavator notesthat these were most likely located outsidethe settlement due to the fire risk in suchinstallations (1970:30).

Though the settlement size was reduced

population also decreased accordingly.The inhabitants seem to have continuedtheir activities from the previous Neolithiclevels, engaging in substantial craft spe-cialization, including ceramic and textileproduction, and trade (indicated by theseals). The Early Chalcolithic settlementalso offers a picture of a wealth-differen-tiated community, with the suggestion ofone important personage inhabiting thelargest domestic structure. The compli-cated multiroomed, partitioned, and two-story architecture is reflective of thislively, if small, Chalcolithic settlement.

Kurucay. Kurucay demonstrates sub-stantial Chalcolithic remains, with Levels10–7 dating to the Early Chalcolithic(Duru 1994:96); after a gap in occupation,Levels 6A–3 date to the Late Chalcolithic,discussed below. The houses in the EarlyChalcolithic levels were organized intodomestic complexes with independent,detached walls, built on stone foundationswith a mudbrick superstructure. The do-mestic structures were clearly single-roomed; some in Level 8 were separatedby a couple meters while those in Level 7were built quite close to one another, withmore substantial walls (Fig. 6). Socioeco-nomic organization continues, apparently,to follow the lines of a hunting/gatheringstructure. These levels exhibited a notableabsence of individual household (or pub-lic) storage facilities (Eslick 1988:24–24;Steadman 1990:18), possibly indicatingthat crop production was still not prac-ticed.

The majority of the Early Chalcolithicdomestic architecture was recovered fromLevel 7. This occupation level is, in theopinion of the excavator, an alterationfrom previous architectural techniques,with “new norms and standards” appliedto the settlement layout and house plans(Duru 1994:100). The thicker walls in thislevel may be intended for defensive pur-poses, and though evidence of a fortifica-

the Late Chalcolithic reoccupation in

CP


tion wall was not detected the excavatordoes not rule the presence of such a struc-ture out, particularly since one existed inthe Late Neolithic Level 11 (Duru 1994:100–101). Internal buttresses were builtinto the Level 7 architecture (another de-viation from previous forms); however, itis unclear whether they were intended assupport for a second story. The excavatoris dubious about the existence of a secondstory in Level 7, though he notes that roofswere substantial, with wooden supportbeams and crossbeams (Duru 1994:100).

Unfortunately, regarding the interiorfurnishings of the Early Chalcolithic lev-els, it can be stated that these were ex-tremely sparse. Houses were so remark-ably clean that it is worth considering thatLevel 7 was in fact abandoned, and homeswere methodically emptied of all but themost utilitarian and easily attainableitems. The fact that there is a gap in occu-pation at the site following Level 7, before

FIG. 6. Plan of architectural remains from Earlyhalcolithic Level 7 at Kurucay (after Duru 1983,lan 2).

Level 6A, lends credence to this supposi-tion. Finds consisted mostly of grindingstones and ceramic remains, with somebaked clay and stone objects (includingfemale figurines), and tools, weapons, andeating/cooking implements made of boneand antler (Duru 1994:105–106). Only onebuilt-in hearth was found; the excavatorsuggests that the majority of hearths wereportable, evidence of which was foundalong with fragments of portable potstands (Duru 1994:106). Given the evi-dence of the substantial walls, internalbuttresses, lack of furnishings, and the oc-currence of portable hearths and potstands, it seems quite possible, if notlikely, that the residents in Level 7 wereindeed using their rooftops as activity ar-eas, though they may not have built en-closures generating a “second story.”

The Kurucay Early Chalcolithic re-mains, particularly Levels 10–8, show vir-tually no deviation from the socioeco-nomic and architectural tradition found inthe Neolithic levels at the site. More no-table changes occur in Level 7, at the endof the Early Chalcolithic, when the inhab-itants begin to build more substantialstructures capable of supporting rooftopactivities. Evidence for a change in thesocioeconomic structure, however, is veryslight. One notable factor is the introduc-tion of a new high-quality painted ware inLevel 7, one that corresponds to similarwares at other sites (Duru 1994:102–104).Beyond this change, the excavator himselfis at a loss to explain the alteration inarchitectural style. However, a cleaned-out and abandoned settlement may ex-plain the absence of clues to the economicactivities at this Early Chalcolithic settle-ment. Nonetheless, the evidence suggeststhat the inhabitants at this site are dem-onstrating a desire for addition space (fortask performance?), in the tradition of theearlier Neolithic inhabitants of the area,by adding a second story to their existing

acd2oslh

ftistrsintpm

1998:27, 42–43). In many cases the inhab-

C1


structures. It is possible that the architec-tural tradition of Level 7 at Kurucay issimply heralding the beginning of themore substantial changes in the socioeco-nomic and architectural organization atthis settlement that become evident in thelater occupational levels. This is discussedin more detail below.

Canhasan I. Canhasan Layers 3, 2B,nd 2A span the earlier half of the Chal-olithic period, with 2A dating to the Mid-le Chalcolithic (French 1967, 1968, 1998:0). The excavator notes that the buildingf Layer 3 “represents a turning-point ofome importance in the sequence of Neo-ithic and Chalcolithic settlement- andouse-plans” (French 1998:25).Dwelling remains from these levels of-

er walls that are far more substantial thanhe previous Neolithic examples, consist-ng of thick mudbrick built structures,ome single-celled and several with morehan one room (Fig. 7). The best preservedemains were retrieved from layer 2B, butimilar architectural strategies were usedn both layers 3 and 2A. One of the mostotable changes from previous layers is

hat these houses are free-standing, inde-endent of neighboring houses, with noore party-walled construction (French

FIG. 7. Plan of architectural remains from Earlyhalcolithic Level 2B at Can Hasan I (after French998, Fig. 12).

itants built their houses with a mere 10 cmseparating one house from another. Thenarrow spaces between the independenthouse walls were insufficient for carryingout any activities and may have servedprimarily as drainage channels.

Other substantial changes include theuse of mold-made mudbricks, substan-tially larger than those from previous lev-els, the use of painted plaster for interiorwalls, and the introduction of internalbuttresses, which provide a “niching andbuttressing” effect on the ground level,but which also serve to support a secondstory (French 1998:25–27). In addition, in-dividual houses are differentiated by size(ranging from 164 to 35 m2) and in thenumber of internal rooms, ranging from atleast four rooms to single-celled free-standing dwellings (French 1998:31–42).Many of these houses include small inter-nal partitioning walls, internal benches,and posts for second-story support [see 2Bstructures 1–3 (French 1998:30–33)].French was unable to locate ground-floordoorways into many of these residences,and in fact many are surrounded by otherhouse walls with interspacing too narrowfor passage. It is likely, therefore, that insimilar fashion to the construction at CatalHoyuk, access to homes was via rooftopdoorways (French 1998:68). It is clear thatthe architectural tradition at Early Chalco-lithic Canhasan has deviated substantiallyfrom the party-walled, mostly single-celled/single-storied and nonpartitioneddwellings of the Neolithic occupation.

In reconstructing the use of space, theexcavator suggests the ground floor wasused primarily for storage, and the maindomestic activities took place on the up-per floor. Pottery fragments and other ma-terials were discovered in roof collapsebut not in ground-floor primary deposits(French 1998:66, 68). No hearths werefound on ground-floor levels, nor wasthere evidence for the housing of animals

present in ground-floor contexts (French wares, other changes were taking place in


1998:68). French and others have sug-gested that the second-story living (sleep-ing) quarters were walled and roofed,comprising approximately half the upper-floor space, and the other half was leftopen and was used for domestic activitiessuch as food production and possibly lim-ited craft production (French 1998:68;Yakar 1991:198).

Evidence of changes in social and eco-nomic complexity at Canhasan is limitedbut suggestive. The first floors of thestructures in these layers continue to ex-hibit grain-storage bins, and in the largerdwellings these bins are correspondinglylarger [e.g., Structure 1, Layer 2B (French1998:Fig. 13)]. In comparison to previouslevels, the number and variety of smallfinds increases substantially in the EarlyChalcolithic, including animal and humanclay figurines; shell, stone, ivory, and bonejewelry; metal (copper or bronze) imple-ments and jewelry; and marble objectscarved with decorative motifs (French1962:32–33, 1963:34–36, 1967). In additionto these small finds, there is a change inthe ceramic assemblage. New ceramicstyles, including painted and fine wares,and some evidence of Halaf (southeastAnatolian) wares, are found in the EarlyChalcolithic levels (French 1966; Yakar1991:197), all occurring in greater quanti-ties than in previous levels. There is somesuggestion that by the Early ChalcolithicCanhasan was involved in an intrar-egional trade system, possibly encom-passing areas as far away as northern Me-sopotamia (Joukowsky 1996:127), but atleast involving the southern Anatolianplateau. Materials exchanged (beyond thevessels or their contents) are, at present,unclear, but the evidence from EarlyChalcolithic Canhasan points to the incip-ient florescence of a more complex socio-economic (at least regarding long-dis-tance trade) social structure.

Besides the newly introduced ceramic

the Early Chalcolithic Canhasan commu-nity. Based on faunal and botanical work,the excavator suggests that more plantsand/or animals had been domesticated bythis period (French et al. 1972:188) andthat the inhabitants had come to rely moreheavily on agriculture and deemphasizedthe herding component of their economy,demonstrated in part by the addition ofthe horse to the faunal assemblage, prob-ably as a draft animal. The evidence alsosuggests that animal husbandry began toconcentrate more on sheep/goat herdingrather than cattle, possibly due to the ex-pansion in cultivation and decrease ingrazing areas. A correlate to this change inthe economic organization, French andothers suggest (French et al. 1972:189;Yakar 1991:198), is an increase in the ac-tual population of the site during thistime. An increasing population, perhapsbecause of the expansion in intraregionaltrade, would certainly have impacted thesubsistence economy and was likely to re-sult in an expanded agricultural system.

These three socioeconomic develop-ments, substantial changes in the ceramicassemblage and burgeoning trade, addi-tional plant/animal domesticates andchanges in the subsistence economy, andan increased population, occur in thestratigraphic levels where substantial ar-chitectural changes occur. Walls arethicker, with buttressing, and though theinterior area is diminished from previouslevels, a second story (or place for rooftopactivities) is now created. Like the inhab-itants at other Late Neolithic and EarlyChalcolithic sites, those at Canhasan I ap-pear to have found it necessary to createadditional space to carry out their activi-ties, resulting in multistory architecturesufficient to support not only rooftop ac-tivities but viable living space as well.

The evidence for substantial increasesin craft specialization, long-distance trade,and other socioeconomic developments

such as wealth differentiation are not as

ia

tural fashion whether at large sites, such

tCrfFfi


dramatic at Kurucay and Canhasan sitesn comparison to sister settlements suchs Catal Hoyuk and Hacilar. However, the

material remains do indicate that thesame processes that were in place in thelater Neolithic of the larger sites werestarting to make their appearances at thesmaller Early Chalcolithic sites ofCanhasan I and Kurucay. At both sitesevidence suggests the evolution of a sec-ond story or at least the construction ofrooftops that supported activity. Interiorpartitioning became common, offering di-vided spaces for differing activities. Theevidence for cues and props is less forth-coming, though this may be due in part topossible abandonment at one site (Kuru-cay) and to the inaccessibility of informa-tion at the other.5

In addition, the desire to have detachedand individuals house walls appears to beof some import. This may reflect resi-dents’ desire for increased privacy,whether it is in the form of a lessenedtransmission of household noise or smellsor an attempt to mark the territory of per-sonal space by establishing individualwalls for the dwelling. Whatever the mo-tivation, it is a notable effort, particularlyon the part of the Canhasan I residents, inorder to achieve independent, detachedhousing in an environment with ex-tremely limited available space.

The trend toward increasing economicand political complexity, found at varyingrates at settlements across the Anatolianplateau is expressed in similar architec-

5 French has published the first of a proposedhree-volume set of reports on his excavations atanhasan. The first volume covers the architectural

emains, and following volumes will report on arti-acts, ecofacts, and small finds. Unfortunately,rench followed a strict separation in reporting; therst volume profiles architecture only, and there is

virtually no discussion regarding the provenience ofobjects inside the buildings [see Steadman (2000) fora complete discussion of Volume I and this inherentflaw].

as Catal Hoyuk, or smaller sites, such asKurucay. Prehistoric Central Anatolian in-habitants experienced changes in their so-cioeconomic organization, expressed byburgeoning craft specialization, long-dis-tance trade, and increasing wealth differ-entiation among inhabitants. In order toaccommodate the more complex task per-formance concomitant with an expandingeconomy (which resulted in a need formore internal partitioning), the inhabit-ants of Anatolian tell settlements parti-tioned the inside of their usually single-roomed structures to their greatest extentto provide differentiated areas for theirmore varied chores. Following this, theyexpanded their space vertically (Fig. 8),employing a second story, alternativelyopen to the air or enclosed to provideadditional living space. This allowed analmost a 100% expansion in space, but didnot necessitate the need to change theconfiguration of the settlement size.

Over the course of socioeconomicchanges experienced by the inhabitants ofthese Neolithic/Chalcolithic settlements,evidence also shows they used a growingnumber of cues/props to signal the properactivities in the designated spaces. In theface of severe horizontal space limitations,particularly with the advent of enclosureor defensive walls on the crown of themounds, the inhabitants at these siteschose a type of architectural reconfigura-tion that would accommodate increasingsocioeconomic complexity and the need toperform additional and more elaboratetasks: vertical expansion. Thus the modelsthat predict household size expansion, in-creased partitioning, and more numerouscues to behavior hold up in regard to thetell inhabitants of Anatolia. However, re-searchers must, it seems, look “up” in pre-dicting spatial expansion when workingon tell settlements.


Access Analysis and Proxemics:Boundaries, Privacy, and Personal

Space on Tell Sites

The previous analysis focused on spa-tial needs for task performance, with aneye toward partitioning, cues, and spatialexpansion. However, embedded in thespatial changes commensurate with socialand economic changes were architecturalalterations reflecting more carefullymarked territories, additional access lim-its, and, generally, more control over in-dividual (household) privacy and per-sonal space. This may be directly relatedto an increase in wealth and social strati-fication within the society; if there is moreto protect, such as surplus food or luxury

FIG. 8. Reconstruction of Neolithic Level VII

items, there is a greater desire to limitaccess to such items. Such factors can beinterpreted as an increased desire for pri-vacy or at least for additional boundarycontrols in relation to a stronger sense ofterritoriality regarding personal space andbelongings. Thus increased desire formore carefully defined territories and per-sonal space, essentially limiting “strang-er” access, appears to become more im-portant as societies experience increasinglevels of socioeconomic complexity. Thearchitectural organization at the sites pro-filed here exhibits the types of adjust-ments suggested by the model in the pre-vious section. As socioeconomic activitiesincrease, as surpluses are generated, and

Catal Huyuk (after Mellaart 1967:62, Fig. 12).
at

as more nonessential belongings are ac- Kurucay, the residents began to construct


quired, inhabitants begin to reorganizetheir residential structures to provide asense of back:private within the house-hold, while also separating house bound-aries (walls) from neighboring homes.These trends can be traced from their in-ception in the Neolithic down through themillennia to Late Chalcolithic dwellings.

Review of Neolithic and Early ChalcolithicOccupation

During the Neolithic, the single-storied,one-roomed houses at sites such asCanhasan I and III and Kurucay, whereinhabitants were practicing basic subsis-tence strategies, doorways opened di-rectly into the heart of the household. Par-titioning within homes, and spacingbetween homes, was not found at thesesettlements. At the Neolithic sites ofHacilar and Catal Hoyuk, the architectureshows an increased number of access con-trols. In the Hacilar VI settlement (see Fig.3), doors were placed in the middle of thelong wall, thus allowing direct entry intothe home, but partitioning screens pro-vided a “back” portion where personalitems were stored (Mellaart 1970:14). Stor-age bins were also located away from themain entry. At Catal Hoyuk the sleepingand storage areas were located down-stairs, along with the kitchen, while mostdomestic, and possibly social (?) activitiestook place upstairs (Mellaart 1967:56–60).At Catal Hoyuk, and possibly at Hacilar aswell, the addition of the second story cre-ated a front/back (public/private) divisionof space on the vertical plane, offering asignificant amount of control over line-of-sight, and possibly bodily (depending onthe location of doorways at Catal Hoyuk)access into the “private” areas of thehome.

We see such trends begin to emerge atKurucay and Canhasan in the Early Chal-colithic. At Canhasan, and very likely at

homes with upper floors, and at Canhasanthey began to partition their houses intomultiple rooms. The addition of a secondstory provided the aspect of front/backspaces as discussed above, although thesewould be reversed depending on the lo-cation of the main entry into the house.Public:front areas may have been foundon the ground floor at Kurucay, whereasthis floor at Canhasan 3-2A would havebeen a back:private region due to the roof-top entry.

In addition to the evolution of what con-stitutes a “built-in” back/front construc-tion on the vertical plane, the residents atboth sites made considerable efforts to de-tach their house walls from their neigh-bors’. Though this detachment did notprovide areas such as gardens or court-yards as buffer zones between houses, itdid serve to insulate the household mem-bers from the less tangible, but no lessnoticeable, aspects of close living (e.g.,sounds and smells).

The alterations in door placement atEarly Chalcolithic Hacilar II is also worthnoting. The decrease in population andsmaller village size did not appear to sub-stantially lessen the crowded conditions atthe settlement. Inhabitants of the more“wealthy” western quarter rearrangeddoorways. No longer were homes enteredby doors centered in the long wall, butrather by doors placed at one end of therectangular houses (see Fig. 5). Thesedoors were often located at a corner sothat one entered facing a wall rather thanthe entire household interior, whichserved to obscure line-of-sight viewsstraight into the heart of the domicile.Their placement also provided a front:public region and a more private:backarea where benches, platforms, and stor-age bins were often located. In addition,Hacilar II residents also had use of a sec-ond story which may have also providedhousehold space invisible to neighboring

eyes. The residents of these Late Chalco-


lithic sites continued to reorganize theresidential structures to best suit theirpersonal and economic needs.

Anatolian Late Chalcolithic

Kurucay. In the Late Chalcolithic atKurucay (Levels 6–4 date to the late 5th tomid-4th millennia), some significantchanges have occurred. There is evidence,both faunal and botanical, that the resi-dents have, at long last, begun to domes-ticate sheep and goats and to cultivateplants. Plant cultivation is further indi-cated by the presence of storage jars andbins in these levels. Some evidence ofcraft specialization is indicated by thepresence of loom weights in some housesand the appearance of metallurgy show-ing rather “developed workmanship” ac-cording to the excavator (Duru 1983:44–47). Other social differences becomeevident at the settlement. House size be-comes more varied (see below), and onebuilding was identified as “sacred” or atleast has some specialized and/or ritualfunction (Eslick 1988:26–27).

The rather remarkable changes in boththe socioeconomic strategies as well as thearchitectural layout of the Late Chalco-lithic settlement might be due, as the ex-cavator suggests, to the arrival of a newpopulation, the one, in fact, responsiblefor the destruction of Early ChalcolithicLevel 7 (1983:48–49). Whether the Level 6occupants were the descendants of theprevious residents or their destroyers, theLate Chalcolithic architectural traditionsand socioeconomic activities are markedlydifferent. One notable factor is the pres-ence of a defensive wall circling the occu-pation (Duru 1983:43–44), effectively lim-iting settlement size. Most domesticstructures are still mainly single-roomed(Fig. 9), but a number are now multi-roomed and there is more variation instructure size. In contrast to Level 7, there

appears to be a greater need for individualstorage at Late Chalcolithic Kurucay, evi-denced by independent storage buildings,sufficient in number to have a 1:1 correla-tion with each dwelling.

In order to adjust to the change in econ-omy and social structure that appears tobe taking place at Kurucay, the inhabit-ants alter the settlement’s architecturallayout. The most notable innovation atKurucay 6 is the placement of the housesrelative to one another. Although Kurucay7 homes were not party-walled, wallswere still in close proximity. At Kurucay 6the houses are independent of one an-other, completely detached and free-standing, with small courtyards and alleysseparating each structure. The walls of theLate Chalcolithic houses are noticeablythinner, and the internal buttresses aremissing. Roofs are still substantial (Duru

FIG. 9. Plan of architectural remains from LateChalcolithic Level 6 at Kurucay (after Duru 1983,Plan 9).

1983:44) and may perhaps have supported tinued to be available to inhabitants. Be-


rooftop activities, but the second storiesare gone. The inhabitants preferred, itseems, complete separation from neigh-boring houses and more individualizedcourtyards. Unfortunately the excavatorwas unable to identify doorways in mostof the structures. Doorways that werefound tended to be near a corner of therectangular structures, situated so thatupon entering a guest faced a wall ratherthan the household interior. In multi-roomed houses, doorways were located atthe furthest point away from roomsplaced at the “back” of the house (relativeto the “front” door). The separation of thedwellings and creation of open spaces be-tween individual dwellings could be inter-preted as an attempt to create “personalspace” and a greater degree of privacy aswell as to carve out individual territory foreach structure.

Canhasan I. The Late Chalcolithic atCanhasan I is represented in Layer 1. Theexcavator reports that there was an inter-val in occupation at the site between Lay-ers 2A and 1 in the excavated areas, al-though he notes that this lacuna isn’tsitewide and occupation continued inother areas (French 1998:50). No destruc-tion level was noted between layers 2Aand 1, and there is a continuation of theceramic sequence. The excavator makesno suggestions regarding a shift in thesettlement’s population (i.e., a decrease),but notes only that the architecture alterssubstantially from 2A to 1 (French 1998:69).

The architecture in Layer 1 is indeeddramatically different from the previousphases. The structures still have indepen-dent walls, but are now separated bymeters rather than centimeters. Althoughthere was little evidence of roofing style,the thinner walls and lack of support postssuggests that, similar to Kurucay, the res-idences have returned to a single-storyplan, though rooftop areas may have con-

tween individual housing structures werecourtyards with floors made of white clay,each with a hearth, oven, and work areathat appears to be associated with partic-ular dwellings, and there is some evidencefor animal keeping in these courtyardsand homes (French 1998:50, 66–67). A lim-ited number of Layer 1 houses were exca-vated, owing to the greater spacing be-tween structures, but it is apparent thatdwellings were two- or three-roomed,with internal partitioning for storage andbuilt-in benches (French 1998:50–53).Though doorways were not detected, theplacement of hearths in the courtyardssuggest they were most likely located nearthe ends and corners of houses, awayfrom partitioned areas. As was the case atKurucay, these new architectural layoutsoffered individual courtyards, separatedfrom neighbors, and the semblance offront:public and back:private regions.

Though the architectural evidence fromthe Late Chalcolithic levels at these sites isnot as substantial as that in previous pe-riods, the trends toward increasing indi-vidual control over space and belongings,more significant controls on access, and adesire for clear boundaries between struc-tures are clearly observable. Residents ontell settlements desiring greater authorityover their personal space, i.e., “privacy,”do so in similar fashion to what is seen onnonmounded settlements. Doorways andwalls are constructed to limit bodily andsight access, and boundaries are morestrongly enforced, not by constructing pe-rimeter walls, but by detaching one’shome from one’s neighbor. Residents alsocreate buffer spaces such as alleys andcourtyards, which serve the dual purposesof separating each house and creating in-dividualized exterior spaces for eachhousehold. Tell residents realized theirneeds for interpersonal space and territo-rial control even in their spatially limitedresidential settings.


Architectural Trends and FutureResearch

The in-depth analysis of socioeconomicand architectural change, for the purposesof the present study, ends with the abovediscussion of the Late Chalcolithic. How-ever, it is worth noting that not only isthere substantial work that needs to bedone on the periods discussed above, butthere are also many avenues for researchregarding the Bronze Age periods of theAnatolian plateau. The later inhabitants ofthe Anatolian plateau continued theirmoundtop occupation while also continu-ing to engage in even wider ranges ofeconomic activities.

It is notable that a new architecturalform emerges in the Anatolian repertoire;this style is known as the “megaron.” Themegaron is better known from later con-texts in Greek and Israelite settlements(see, for instance, Dickinson 1994:153–156;Mazar 1990:211–213, 375–379), but inter-estingly its earliest appearances are inprehistoric Anatolia, the Levant (Byrd andBanning 1988; Kenyon 1981), and south-eastern Europe. The megaron is a rectan-gular structure with an interior room, the“hall,” divided by an interior wall from anouter segment, the “porch” (Fig. 10). The

FIG. 10. Examples of Megarons. (a) Standa

region in front of the outer “porch” cre-ates an area in front of the house, offeringthe structure’s own “private” courtyard.The entry door is at one end, centered inthe porch wall. The interior door to thehall is sometimes aligned with the outerone, allowing one to view into the “hall,”or it may be off to the side, obscuring theview into the house’s interior.

The megaron begins to appear withsome regularity at Anatolian Chalcolithicand later at Early Bronze Age sites. Manysettlements, previously occupied, experi-enced a reorganization of their architec-tural styles in order to incorporate the me-garon, as is the case at Hacilar II (see Fig.5) and other Anatolian sites such as Mer-sin, Tarsus, Beycesultan, and Kultepe.Other Early Bronze residents begin build-ing megara with their first occupation[e.g., Troy, Karatas-Semayuk, DemirciHoyuk, and Aegean island sites such asPoliochni, Samos, and Thermi; seeWarner (1979) for a general discussion ofBronze Age megaron traditions in Anato-lia].

One of the most remarkable uses of themegaron housing style is found at theEarly Bronze site of Demirci Hoyuk on thenorthwestern edge of the Anatolian pla-

style; (b) standard style with offset doors.
rd

boundary controls, and territoriality on


teau. The village was located on a smallmound and enclosed by a defensive wall,severely limiting space. From the begin-ning the houses were built in the megaronstyle (Fig. 11), with the main entrancesfacing the center of the compound. Infront of each structure stood a storage binand small granary, clearly aligned witheach house (Korfmann 1983:243). Interior“hall” doors were often offset, particularlyin the cases of the larger three-roomedhouses, so that visitors in the front regioncould not see directly into the back, offer-ing additional privacy. What is extraordi-nary about this settlement is the amountof control over access and authority overpersonal areas that is achieved in a settingthat is so heavily populated or, at least,crowded and so limited in space. The de-velopment of the megaron allows theseneeds to be met in this small setting.

The megaron may be the ideal responseto the tell inhabitants’ needs for privacy,

FIG. 11. Plan of architectural remains from EarlyBronze I Demirci Hoyuk (after Korfmann 1983, Plan343).

their peculiar settlements. The slow dis-appearance of megaron-style architecturecorresponds roughly to the appearance of“lower towns” next to mounded settle-ments, perhaps indicating that the spatialneeds of the inhabitants had supersededeven the well-crafted megara. This avenueof research, however, in only its formativestages.

CONCLUSION

The processes that induced the desirefor increased spatial partitioning in theface of more complicated task perfor-mance, greater boundary controls, andauthority over personal space are not ab-sent for people who live on mounded set-tlements. These inhabitants simply foundalternate methods in their built environ-ment to express these needs. To cope witharchitectural partitioning and segmenta-tion in limited space, societies experienc-ing increasingly complex task perfor-mance expanded not on the horizontal buton the vertical plane. Lack of space forcestell inhabitants to address their territorialand privacy needs through innovation intheir architectural styles, beginning withhouse detachment, even to the extent of amore labor-intensive building project (re-quiring the building of more walls in closeproximity to the neighbor’s). If there isspace available open spaces surroundingthe detached houses are created, offeringan element of “distancing” between onedwelling and another. These various ar-chitectural innovations offer the maxi-mum in access and boundary controlsavailable in the crowded and crampeddwellings used throughout the Neolithicand Chalcolithic periods on moundedsites in Anatolia.

Though much additional work isneeded, in particular the excavation ofpresent-day sites with the presented mod-els in mind, this examination of the Near

Eastern built environment has estab- Byrd, B. F., and E. B. Banning

E


lished, at the very least, that socioeco-nomic changes in tell-based settlementsinitiate architectural changes that are sim-ilar and yet divergent from their counter-parts in other areas of the world, necessi-tating researchers in the Near East toconstruct alternate “models for mounds.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I thank several people who made the completionof this article possible. First and foremost, thanks aredue to Tim Matney and Sue Kent, whose supportand encouragement of this project was much neededand appreciated. I also offer sincere thanks to CarlBurr for his exceptional artwork for this manuscriptas well as his continuing interest in the archaeologyof Anatolia. My gratitude also extends to Girish Bhatfor his excellent editorial suggestions and to severalanonymous reviewers whose comments substan-tially improved this article. Although many peoplecontributed helpful suggestions and advice, any er-rors or innaccuracies in this text are the author’salone.

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