Caught between art and science, numismatics is an unusual discipline. Dependent on removing archaeological material, in this case coins, from their contexts, leading to a separation of object and surroundings. The coin, or banknote or other item of exchange, arguably assumes an independent identity through its removal from assemblage. Depending on your point of view this could be seen to elevate the object - it’s separate-ness denoting a special status. Alternatively it could be argued that this isolation of coins from their context leads to an ignominy for some coin collections, held by museums but rarely used.

In May 2022, the collective Action for Arts & Humanities invited videographer April Lin to host a workshop exploring film as part of academic practice. I was initially interested as I wanted tips on how to “make videos”, feeling a bit of career pressure to skill up in digital media. What I loved about the workshop was April’s presence and the way they presented their work, as part of an ecosystem of thought that included themselves, their collaborators and their ability to use software to create art. This introduction to the use of video production as part of academic practice was new to me, and I left the workshop with a fizzing brain. (Please go and look at April’s work.)

What, I wondered, would it look like to think of coins as collaborators? This is a question I often think about. Coins are multi-vocal objects, and have a myriad of stories to tell. I mainly work on Northumbrian copper-alloy pennies, commonly but mistakenly called stycas. They generally feature the name of an issuer - either king or bishop - and a moneyer. Immediately there are two tales to tell. Yet the voices multiply. Who engraved the die? How many hands did each piece pass through? Where would a coin call ‘home’? 

I’ve long been struck by the number of hoards of Northumbrian pennies that are found in York, and took inspiration from April’s words to explore the places of concealment. I spent a couple of hours visiting some of the known locations, and taking footage on my phone, and thinking concertedly about location and experience, putting myself in the place of mind of what it means to be hoarded. I was encouraged at the workshop to not think of video editing as something complex, but as a tool to learn to use … and that you could start with a very basic programme. So welcome to the world cache, my first ever experiment in film-making!

With full disclosure, it is quite a poor film. The images move too fast, as do the subtitles. I was limited by the basic video editor that I found buried in my free version of Microsoft. Not all video programmes are equal! Technically, it was easy to use, but the limited functionality, as well as fonts, meant that the ideas I had for the film were quickly squashed. It is without a commentary that I imagined, there was no way to embed audio descriptions and it doesn’t meet accessibility standards. 

As a personal experiment, having never previously tried anything like this, I found that recording film does change your awareness of places. I think I have a long way to go in using film-making as a tool, but what I discovered was that it can close the gap between coin and context, and, at least for me, helped me to consider with greater intensity both the situation of a hoard, both geographically and at a human scale.