Survival, Escape and Memory:

Snapshots of Narratives

in the Cave Wall Paintings

of Paleolithic Humans.

 

Well over a thousand generations ago, man’s ancestors took to the caves.  Armed with pigments, brushes and rudimentary torches, they created many of the most awesome paintings in the history of creative expression.  To consider these as mere abstractions – individualized, unconnected, and without continuity – would be a grave injustice. In almost every cave the painted object, whether of human or of animal, animate or inanimate, gives a rendition of someone’s dreams, feelings and attitudes. It is only when we turn our gaze at these “series” of images in the Paleolithic caves do we get the sense of man’s early attempts at “storytelling.”  Variations and combinations of color, levels and depths of shading, the play of light and dark, the juxtaposition of stationery objects and animals against the backdrop of beasts in flight, the reverberating echoes of sound, and the sheer scale and magnitude of the Paleolithic canvas of the cave, all serve to enhance and prolong the importance of narrative exultations in the personal history of early man.  Therefore, sight, movement and sound - key elements in any narrative - are present in Paleolithic man’s domain, especially in the cave of Altamira and Lascaux.

But what were the factors that led to this innovative art?  Self-realization and self-preservation would have developed hand-in-hand with Paleolithic humans as they took stock in a hostile world.  Grunts and snarls would have given a sense of direction and purpose, and early humans would have identified sounds of dangerous animals, and would have stayed clear.  In time, they would have recognized their own footprints, as a sign of the comfort in the group of others, or as signs for finding their way back to the group (Layton, 441).  In the same way the presence of footprints of dangerous animals would have been identified as signs to stay clear.  Indeed, early humans would have recognized the importance of the footprint, and subsequently the imprint of the hand as a symbol of identity and importance (Guthrie 123-26; Munn 279-85).  Therefore, we can see how sound, sight and movement have featured in the survival of early man.

As intelligence and adaptability progressed, “home art” developed first, where personal pieces of equipment, such as basic hunting tools and body ornaments, were decorated.  Cave “writing” soon followed, and cave art which quickly developed involved not only life-size paintings but depictions of animals sometimes as long as seven feet.  The scale is magnanimous.  Cave paintings stretch for hundreds of feet at times and occupy vast ceiling spaces.  But why and how were these done, are very important questions to be answered as we trace the development of narrative and storytelling in Paleolithic art.

Historical evidence is abundant as to the ability of animals to engage in play, whether it is on the individual level (to express joy or sadness, or to engage in love-making rituals), or some kind of community activity (the sense of family, offering comfort or the sharing or responsibilities).  Communal contact and role-playing is important.  R. Dale Guthrie in his book The Nature of Paleolithic Art dispels the notion that early man was just interested in art for art’s sake, and goes on to elaborate that in man’s early development the “causal entanglement between art and play and creativity has been noted by ethnologists and evolutionary biologists” (p. 391) where “meaning is a property not of the ‘art’ or any other material but the interaction between the human agents and the material” (Davidson, 892).  Indeed, it is these images on cave walls that depict the narrative of play.  Man, then, has transformed his play symbols and activities into painted objects, and it is only natural that, as he perfected his art, the narrative element begins to appear: where play, involving the imaginative mind in specific activities, involving time and space -- equals narrative.

Starting with the first symbolic hand-print, whether outlined, or dipped in color clay and hand-stamped, early humans would have been aware of color pigments, which were obtained “from natural sources – red and yellow from ochers, black from manganese or (more probably) charcoal [and] these pigments can be used either directly in the form of a crayon…or mixed with a liquid, water or possible animal fat” (Waechter, 130).  Experimentation with shading would have resulted in a variety of depictions, and the use of animal fat would have given hue and depth when used alongside water-based colors.  Glossy surfaces reflect light, and the combination of water based and animal fat colorations would have produced the sense of depth and shading and movement when played upon by various forms of light, whether it be the reflection of sunlight from reflected rocks outside the cave or from the flickering light of torches and rudimentary lamps.  Mixed with the shadows of movement created by the inhabitants occupying various positions would have produced the awesome spectacle of reverent activity.

Penny Platt in her article “Cave Art and the Origin of Speeches” makes an important observation in her statements:

At first glance, there doesn’t seem to be any relationship between words and pictures, yet both are symbols evoking absent entities. Thus, I suggest an audacious theory about the origins of language: that the enforced stay of Cro-Magnons in caves during the ice ages encouraged the invention of a drawing technology, which, in turn, led to the invention of words. In this scenario, drawing became a popular pastime for the cave-bound. Cave dwellers continued to use simian-type hoots to attract or warn others when hungry for food or sex; but drawings elicit new squeals of surprise and joy. When the squeals associated with particular animals are repeated by one or two other residents they might become the animals’ name! Since pictorial images require no words, yet combinations of images communicate a string of events, art seems a likely prerequisite for sounds to convey these ideas.

But why select caves in the first place?    In addition to creating seclusion and safety, a source of protection from animals and extreme temperatures, caves would have provided the necessary solace under the umbrella of “home.”  Then the common need for “decoration of the home” would have followed.  After some time, the atmosphere of the cave creates almost a magical trance which is conducive to the narrative of the times.

There are few extremes in caves, except darkness.  That is why caves can retain such sharp imprints made by people tens of thousands of years ago – their fingerprints and footprints, traces of their torches and crayons, and artistic reflections of their mental images.  The record of certain behavior is there too: for example, the vandalism of breaking off beautiful stalactite spires and of smearing over colorful art.  Even hints of romance remain, as in the male and female handprints place side by side. (Guthrie, 37)

Thus under severe conditions early man would have enjoyed his solace in caves.  It would have been, no doubt, an opportunity to “take stock” of his situation, to dream in his moments of rest, and upon his awaking, to plan for the immediate future.  Dreams, then, would have turned into aspirations, and a longing to immerse himself in his next task at hand: providing for his food.  Under normal circumstances, and when outside the cave, man when not hunting or trying to defend himself would have engaged in “play.”  This “play” man would have transferred into the “narrative of the cave.”

 Non-agrarians, but hunters, man’s need would have sufficed for weeks on end with a single kill of a mammoth.  Thus, in the distraction between successive hunts “Paleolithic art was done by people who had episodes of free time, occasionally plenty, and the social context that encouraged play” (Guthrie, 399).  Mostly animals are depicted because “the hunter obtains power over an animal by drawing it prior to setting out on a hunt” (Waechter, 134), and the hunter by this “pictorial representation augment his power over the beast he hunted” (Rowe, 8).  These paintings would have developed as “simple” paintings, as is the case with the “Bison” (Appendix, Plate 1: Bison at Charge, Lascaux) where black and red and shadings are used to accentuate depth.  However, the bison also is depicted in various attitudes. In the painting of a second bison (Appendix, Plate 2: Fallen Bison, Altamira) “where black pigment is used not only to depict mane, tail and hooves, but also as a means of modeling” (Waechter 121) where “solid line, without modeling coexist with shadowy modeled lines (blow-pipe technique?), that is, the linear and the painterly are employed alternately!” (Fingesten, 307).  Having perfected his art with shadow and depth, early man would experiment with groupings.  In these instances we have two different images: one of a thundering beast and the other of a dead animal. Thus an early man was able to identity clearly, and depict in his paintings, two important stages of life, and in this way could have visualized the concept of progression in time: thundering life and closing death.  It must be pointed out that cave paintings are not the solitary efforts of lone painters, but are the collective results of numerous narrator-painters throughout extensive periods of time; one technique would have been copied upon and improved on by others, and so on, until, literally, there was no more available space upon which to paint.

Intermixed with the stationary, one finds those “poised in movement.” Most of the animals depicted in cave paintings show a prepotency for flight, where we see “some of man’s first pictorial representations on three dimensional objects on what are predominantly and essentially two dimensional surfaces” (Noxon, 21). Indeed, many animals depict movement, as “The Cow” (Appendix, Plate 3: Cow in Flight, Lascaux) in that “the immediate impression is certainly one of profound and complete recognition – here is a cow and it jumps as a cow jumps” (Noxon 21).  Narrative involves movement of people and animals; a cow jumps, it asks questions of the observer, and it must tell a story; How is that we know the cow jumps?  Why does the cow jump?  This technique of movement is explained as follows:

The illusion of movement in the cow in this cave wall painting is the result of many skilled developed by the artist.  First, the careful and prolonged observations of entire cycles of characteristic movement habitually repeated by the animals; second, a thorough and detailed knowledge of the anatomy of the animals; third, the cultivation of an inborn artistic imagination.  (Noxon, 21)

Indeed, the painter would have had to study his animal in some detail, and would have ventured out for further studies, thus modifying and improving his subject.  Such examination calls for cognitive faculties: to observe animals (and humans) at their natural states or at play and be able to reproduce these actions in a painted scene would have called for the art of a “narrative interpreter” using the physical features of the cave walls themselves would have “lent their shapes to the back, the neck, or the thigh of an animal, which is completed by the painter” (Leroi-Gourhan and Michelson, 16).

It is now necessary to look at the famous Prehistoric Tragedy of the Lascaux caves where there is great evidence of improvement in painting technique from simple “line drawings” to where “a certain syntax must have governed the arrangement of the images considered as symbols (Leroi-Gourhan and Michelson, 10).  As shown the hunting scene narrative (Appendix, Plate4: The Hunting Narrative, Lascaux) depicts a wounded bison with arrow in its side charging at a man wearing a bird mask and at his feet lies an arrow, with a bird on a pole close by; to the left of this scene there is a two-horned rhinoceros drawn in a shadowy line and to the right there are at least six signs of sorts.  “This is an ambitious narrative composition where death, magic and the hunt are combined in one of the most impressive frescoes of this period” (Fingesten 307). Indeed “the structure of human culture is such as to generate an open-ended series of ‘performances’ embodied in particular works of art and particular narrations” (Layton, 450) which is evident in the narrative of the hunt depicted above.  Indeed “each individual performance is the distinctive product of the artist, or narrator who uses the structure of his culture to construct that performance” (Layton450).  Here then is the classic depiction of a narrative.

The “narrative of movement” is further enhanced under conditions of light and darkness and the sudden introduction of artificial light, brought in by torches and rudimentary lamps. Further, it is “when surfaces are irregular and unpredictable, and when the cave painter has intentionally used these surfaces as part of the work, even the trained and unrestricted eye of modern humans can be fooled and delighted under proper conditions” (Wachtel, 137).  Every human is aware of the play of light on darkness, from even the small child wanting a night-light and is yet scared by dim fleeting shadows cast on walls with movement of vehicles in streets below.  Rene van Peer in his article “Calibrating the Senses” writes of his first-hand experiences in cave exploration:

It was pitch dark immediately, but because of the after effects of the light it seemed as if the darkness came moving in from al sides to engulf me.  And even when it was obviously complete I still saw dim phantom figures that only receded very gradually – I can’t say at what point I stopped seeing them.

The psychological effect then cannot be understated.  In the confined atmosphere darkness, the introduction of gradual and varying light to reflect on colorful paintings would have produced an almost intense psychological effect and one synonymous to some kind of mild hallucination.  One can then only imagine the effect this would have had on the Paleolithic man.

Three-dimensional animals in flight, the use of color and shading to depict depth, the play of light and darkness, all come together to tell the story of the hunt, but these are not inconclusive.  Viewpoint is of utmost importance.  It is the angle upon which the subject is seen that conveys viewpoint, and a sense of “belonging to the narrative”:

It is this very flexibility of viewpoint on the part of the artists which constitutes one of the most fascinating aspects of Paleolithic cave wall paintings.  It is typical not only of the outstanding examples at Lascaux but of works of roughly the same period at Altamira in Spain and in many other caves of South Western France and North Western Spain. (Noxon, 25).

In addition, the “twisted” perspective technique would have enhanced viewpoint and give the sense of viewing an animal full-face.  Other techniques used would be to paint animals in natural habitats: The horse (Appendix, Plate 5: Horse in Natural Motion, Lascaux)) conveys “surroundings” in motion with the movement of a horse, and moving deer (Appendix, Plate 6: Reindeers in Motion, Lascaux) conveys the sense of reindeers in swimming motion.  The viewpoint enhanced by motion conveys a sense of direction, destination, and ultimate arrival; hence, the narrative.

All these elements, when combined, give the illusion of continuous movement, hence the narrative or telling of a story, or multiple stories, over multiple periods of time.  The flicker of light upon colors would have highlighted many colorful, and dangerous, movements.  But movement resulting in dramatic narrative is not without its own direct response, whether it be one of awe or admiration or fear or its own visceral participation; audiences are not passive – audiences become active participants.  Edward Wachtel makes an important observation in his comments:

The caves may have been used for ritual hunts.  Perhaps as part of initiation rights, the young hunters were led through the caves by a leader who carried the lamp.  In tribal societies, hunting tactics differ with the type of prey.  The Initiates may have been required to act out or speak as soon as they recognized an animal.  Their ability to recognize and respond quickly to game in the wild could be “tested” and rewarded.  This activity could have reinforced the values of teamwork, quick response, etc. (139).

But then, one should not omit sound.  Man’s cries of identification of particular animals would have echoed and reechoed in the caves in three-dimensional surround sound, creating an atmosphere of active participation in a lively but hectic narrative. “Acoustical physics describes the process by which sound waves reflected by the boundary between air and a denser material such as rock can result in an auditory illusion” (Waller). This then might be synonymous of actors in a movie drama.  A single hand-clap can produce an electrifying echo effect, and several such actions, in various parts of the cave would have produced electrifying effects.  One can only imagine the precise location of sound-creators in precise sections of the cave to produce these echoing sounds in the progression of the narrative.  Steven J. Waller writes:

echoes of percussion noises may have helped induced trance states

and/or evoked the images of hoofed animals in the shaman's mind. As another example, the theory that the art was produced as a form of hunting magic or fertility ritual to increase game fits in nicely with echoing since all one need do is clap in an echoing environment in order to conjure up hoof beats. (5)

As can be seen, color picture, light, sound and movement, all the makings of the modern movie theatre, is present in the domain of Paleolithic man.  The reality of the cave, its symbolism, its psychological effects – and now with the introduction of moving pictures, sounds and echoes – has had an almost hypnotic effect throughout the ages.  Ira Konigsberg, in his article "Cave Paintings and the Cinema” makes a valid observation:

Louis Baudry, in his essay on the filmic apparatus, draws an analogy between the spectator in the cinema and the prisoners in Plato's allegory of the cave--both accept copies or simulacrum for the original objects.  The comparison is profound and opens up speculation about not only the nature of the filmic image but also about the experience of viewing that image. The person sitting in the theater like Plato's prisoners--immobile and passive in a dark, restricted place--undergoes a regressive experience whereby he or she imposes a reality on a world without substance.

This dream-like world, punctuated with flickering light, sound and action, at precise moments would have created an energized and electrifying effect for our early ancestors.

As can be seen, a number of features have come together.  It is not only perspective in creating art, but light and sound must have influenced and encouraged Paleolithic man in creating the atmosphere conducive to narrative and storytelling. In a sense, it could be seen how movies did exist in Paleolithic times; stills, movement, rapid action, all against the backdrop of adventure and thrills. 

Sound, picture, action!  Indeed, the Paleolithic cave then has all the makings of a full-color feature movie!


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