Powerful Pictures: Rock Art Research Histories Around the World 9781803273884, 9781803273891, 1803273887

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Powerful Pictures Rock Art Research Histories around the World

Edited by

Jamie Hampson, Sam Challis, and Joakim Goldhahn

Powerful Pictures Rock Art Research Histories around the World Edited by

Jamie Hampson, Sam Challis, and Joakim Goldhahn

Archaeopress Archaeology

Archaeopress Publishing Ltd Summertown Pavilion 18-24 Middle Way Summertown Oxford OX2 7LG www.archaeopress.com

ISBN 978-1-80327-388-4 ISBN 978-1-80327-389-1 (e-Pdf) © the individual authors and Archaeopress 2022 Cover: Rock art motifs at Meyers Springs in west Texas, adapted from a 1930s’ Forrest Kirkland watercolour. Courtesy of Texas Archaeology Research Laboratory.

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Contents List of Figures and Tables���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ii Chapter 1: Why the history of rock art research matters������������������������������������������������������������������������������������1 Joakim Goldhahn, Jamie Hampson, and Sam Challis Chapter 2: The history of rock art research in west Texas, North America, and beyond�����������������������������������6 Jamie Hampson Chapter 3: Reclaiming connections: Ethnography, archaeology, and images on stone in the southwestern United States�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 17 Kelley Hays-Gilpin and Dennis Gilpin Chapter 4: Rock art, landscapes and materiality in the Canadian Shield ��������������������������������������������������������� 25 Dagmara Zawadzka Chapter 5: On the history of rock art research in Mexico and Central America����������������������������������������������� 37 Félix Alejandro Lerma Rodríguez Chapter 6: ‘To alleviate the night-black darkness that conceals our most ancient times:’ Carl Georg Brunius’ trailblazing rock art thesis from 1818����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 45 Joakim Goldhahn Chapter 7: History of the study of schematic rock art in Spain������������������������������������������������������������������������� 61 Margarita Díaz-Andreu Chapter 8: Leo Frobenius’ contribution to global rock art research����������������������������������������������������������������� 76 Richard Kuba and Martin Porr Chapter 9: History debunked: Endeavours in rewriting the San past from the Indigenous rock art archive�� 89 Sam Challis Chapter 10: Rock art and archaeology? The problem of ‘integration’ in southern African Later Stone Age research�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 105 David M. Witelson Chapter 11: A history of research into regional difference in southern African rock paintings������������������� 116 Ghilraen Laue Chapter 12: Explorers and researchers: Kimberley rock art discoveries 1838–1938��������������������������������������� 126 Michael P. Rainsbury Chapter 13: Discovering and researching Gwion (Bradshaw) art in the Kimberley, Western Australia�������� 136 Joc Schmiechen Chapter 14: Rock art research in Madurai, Tamil Nadu, India������������������������������������������������������������������������� 147 Sujitha Pillai Chapter 15: Historical overview of Mongolian rock art studies���������������������������������������������������������������������� 155 Tseren Byambasuren Chapter 16: A history of rock art research in Russia���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 160 Irina Ponomareva Contributors������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 173 i

List of Figures and Tables Figure 2.1. The eastern Trans-Pecos (or ‘Big Bend’) region of west Texas delineated by the Pecos River and state boundary to the north, the Rio Grande to the south, and archaeologically defined cultural areas – the Lower Pecos (east) and Jornada Mogollon (west). ‘Trans’ refers to Anglo-Americans crossing the Pecos from east to west. El Paso is indicated in the inset. Map courtesy of the Center for Big Bend Studies.����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������7 Figure 2.2. Charles Peabody and Mitre Peak, west Texas. Courtesy of Blackwell Publishing.���������������������������������������8 Figure 2.3. Forrest Kirkland’s watercolours of the rock art at Meyers Springs, Texas.�������������������������������������������������12 Figure 2.4. Another example of the stunning rock art in west Texas, at Hueco Tanks, c. 20 cm wide. Courtesy of J. McCulloch.����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������14 Figure 3.1. William Henry Holmes (1878) illustration of petroglyph panel at Waterflow, New Mexico.�������������������17 Figure 3.2. Kidder and Guernsey (1919) illustrated examples of mountain sheep from different sites in the Kayenta, Arizona, region to show the range of variation of this iconic figure.������������������������������������������19 Figure 3.3. Watercolour painting by Ann Axtell Morris of Pictograph Cave in Canyon de Chelly, Arizona, circa 1923–1927. (American Museum of Natural History)���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������20 Figure 3.4. Artist Agnes Sims (1949) created woodcuts illustrating petroglyphs at fourteenth- to seventeenthcentury pueblos in the Galisteo Basin near Santa Fe, New Mexico, and compared them to personages that still appear in Hopi and Zuni ceremonies. She posited that the similarities between the petroglyphs and the ceremonial personages confirmed traditional accounts of a migration from the Galisteo Basin to the Hopi Mesas.�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������20 Figure 3.5. Harold S. and Mary-Russell Ferrell Colton noted similarities between petroglyphs at the Willow Springs, Arizona, site and Hopi use of clan signatures on historic legal documents (Colton 1946; Colton and Colton 1931). Drawing on the Coltons’ work and the geographic distribution of similar glyphs across northern Arizona, Wesley Bernardini (2005) mapped clan migration routes. �����������������21 Figure 4.1. Female figure at the Peterborough Petroglyhs, Ontario. Tracing by Dagmara Zawadzka after Vastokas and Vastokas 1973, plate 13.���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������28 Figure 4.2. Images at the Kennedy Island site in Ontario painted over quartz veins. Photo by Dagmara Zawadzka.���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������29 Figure 4.3. Effigy formations known as Grandmother and Grandfather Rocks near the Mystery Rock Pictograph site on Lake Obabika, Ontario. Photo by Dagmara Zawadzka.��������������������������������������������������30 Figure 4.4. Profile view of the Agawa Bay cliff on Lake Superior, Ontario. Photo by Dagmara Zawadzka.����������������32 Figure 6.1. Carl Georg Brunius (1792–1869) in 1842 after a drawing by Magnus Körner. At the time he was 50 years old. Copyright expired. �����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������45 Figure 6.2. Brunius’ trailblazing thesis from 1818. Now in Antikvarisk Topografiskt Arkiv in Stockholm, Bruniussamlingen Bd LXVI, published with their kind permission.������������������������������������������������������������46 Figure 6.3. Places in northern Europe mentioned in this paper. 1. Northern Bohuslän, 2. Scania, 3. Blekinge, 4. Öland, 5. Tjust. Authors map.�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������46 Figure 6.4. Example of early rock art documentations from northern Europe. Top left, Backa in Brastad in Bohuslän (Brastad 1) by Alfsøn 1627; top right, Gladhammar by in Tjust (Gladhammar 22) by Rhezelius 1634; middle left, Möckleryd (Torhamn 11) in Blekinge after Lagerbring 1746; below left, Bredarör on Kivik in Scania (Södra Mellby 42) by Hilfeling 1775 after Forssenius and Lagerbring 1780, and; below right, a boulder with a wheel-cross image from Kalmar by Rhezelius 1634 (now lost). Note that only Rhezelius and Hilfeling provide statements about scale (for Hilfelings original documentation, see Goldhahn 2013). Source: Lagerbring 1746; Forssenius and Lagerbring 1780; Goldhahn 2011, 2013.�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������47 Figure 6.5. Portraits of people mentioned in this paper; top left, Count Lars von Engeström; top right, Sven Lagerbring; below left, Nils Henric Sjöborg, and; below right, Gomer Brunius. Various sources, all copyrights expired.����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������48 Figure 6.6. Example of Brunius field documentations. This one from Aspelund or Tossenäng from the vicarage estate in Tanum parish, Tanum 505. N.B. This picture has been redrawn after the original field documentation (cf. Figure 7). The scale on original documentation is 1/24. Source: Pl. I in Brunius preserved manuscript from 1818, now in Antikvarisk Topografiskt Arkiv in Stockholm, Bruniussamlingen LXVI, published with their kind permission. ����������������������������������������������������������������52 Figure 6.7. Example of Brunius field documentations, here Brastad 1, the so-called ‘Shoemaker,’ cf. Figure 4. This documentation was probably made in 1838 when we know Brunius visited Brastad (see Brunius 1839). Source: Pl. XXXVI in the preserved manuscript from 1818, now in Antikvarisk Topografiskt Arkiv in Stockholm, Bruniussamlingen LXVI, published with their kind permission. �����52 Figure 6.8. Example of ‘raw’ and ‘brutish’ rock engravings from the black panels in Bohuslän, this one at Kolstads Utmark (Tanum 273 at Varlös, also Brunius 1868: Pl. V). The scale on original documentation is 1/24. Source: Brunius 1818, Pl. XV, now in Antikvarisk Topografiskt Arkiv in Stockholm, Bruniussamlingen LXVI, published with their kind permission.��������������������������������������������54

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Figure 6.9. Example rock engravings from the black panels in Bohuslän showing people taking omens from birds (Tanum 9 at Vitlycke). Source: Brunius 1868, Pl. XV. The scale on original documentation is 1/24.��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������55 Figure 6.10. Brunius own rock inscription in Latin honouring his father Gomer, Tanum 178. N.B. the fragmented anthropomorphic human figure, down to the left, and the cup marks on the top of the panel. Frottage made by Underslös museum. Source: Swedish Rock Art Archive (www.shfa.se), published with their kind permissions. �����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������57 Figure 7.1. Motifs at Cachão da Rapa after Jerónimo Contador de Argote (1738: 233).������������������������������������������������62 Figure 7.2. Los Letreros. a. Engraving of the shelter and plan of motif location by Góngora (1868, Figs. 79–80); b–d. Motifs published by Góngora (1868, Figs. 81–82, 85–87).�����������������������������������������������������������������������63 Figure 7.3. Comparisons of a selection of motifs found in schematic art and others found at the Mesolithic site of Mas d’Azil (Obermaier 1925, pl. xxiii).���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������64 Figure 7.4. Table of the main chronological theories by author at the Symposium on the Rock Art of the Western Mediterranean and the Sahara in Burg Wartenstein (Austria), 1960 (based on Ripoll Perelló 1964a: xi). �������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������67 Figure 7.5. Machroschematic art. a–d. Pla de Petracos Shelters V, IV, VII and VIII; e. Tollos (Hernández Pérez and Centre d’Estudis Contestans 1983, Figs. 2–6)��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������68 Figure 8.1. Map of the expeditions Frobenius and his team undertook in Africa and Europe before 1937 (copyright Frobenius-Institut, Frankfurt am Main; reproduced with kind permission)�����������������������������79 Figure 8.2a and 8.2b. ‘En-face’ lion, looking at the viewer (Frobenius 1933: 68 and 97) (copyright FrobeniusInstitut, Frankfurt am Main; reproduced with kind permission)������������������������������������������������������������������80 Figure 8.3. ‘Middle Paleolithic cultural structure in northern Africa’ (Frobenius 1933: 103) (copyright Frobenius-Institut, Frankfurt am Main; reproduced with kind permission)�������������������������������������������������81 Figure 8.4. Comparison of European and southern African rock art styles (Frobenius 1936a: 17) (copyright Frobenius-Institut, Frankfurt am Main; reproduced with kind permission)�������������������������������������������������84 Figure 8.5. Frobenius explaining Saharan rock art during his exhibition in Rome 1933 (copyright: Bundesarchiv; reproduced with kind permission)��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������85 Figure 9.1. After Dowson 1994: Figures 2, 4 and 5.��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������92 Figure 9.2. ‘The death of the postcranial body’ marked what Blundell saw as the increased importance of facial features for post-contact ritual specialists. Image courtesy South African Rock Art Digital Archive, www.sarada.co.za. 2b Figures of comparable size almost identical to the ‘pre-eminent Shaman’ at Dowson’s type-site (compare with figure 1c). Image courtesy Alice Mullen.������������������������93 Figure 9.3. After Campbell 1987, people wearing brimmed hats float next to trance-related horse images with fringed streamer tails. Image courtesy SARADA.��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������94 Figure 9.4. The capture of a manifestation of !khwa, the rain snake or water snake. Image by author and Jeremy Hollmann.�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������96 Figure 9.5a. Shield-bearing warrior in the Maloti-Drakensberg. Image courtesy SARADA. �����������������������������������������96 Figure 9.5b. Bull sacrifice of the ‘first fruits’ festival. Image courtesy Jeremy Hollmann.���������������������������������������������96 Figure 9.6. Eland antelope painted in the poster-like manner associated with the ‘Disconnect’. Image by author.���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������97 Figure 9.7. Horse and rider on the Strandberg. Skinner 2017, fig 24, courtesy Andrew Skinner.�������������������������������98 Figure 9.8. ‘Magical arts’ of the Korana raiders. Image SARADA, courtesy Sven Ouzman.������������������������������������������98 Figure 9.9. At the headwaters of the Mancazana, images made by ‘Bushmen, Hottentots and runaway slaves’. Image by author; enhancement by Brent Sinclair-Thomson.�����������������������������������������������������������������������99 Figure 9.10. AmaTola ‘Bushmen’ in trance dance postures, acquiring horse and baboon features in ritualised affirmation of their raiding economy and the desire for supernatural protection. Image by author.���99 Figure 11.1. Map showing painted and engraved sites recoded by the Archaeological survey (after Van Riet Lowe 1952, place names have been updated to reflect current names).���������������������������������������������������117 Table 11.1. Summary of regional differences as outlined by Burkitt (1928), Bleek (1932), van Riet Lowe (1952), Rudner and Rudner (1970) and Willcox (1984). I have tried to align similar regions as much as possible.����������������������������������������������������������������������������118 Figure 11.2. Rock painting and engraving areas as proposed by the Rudners (after Rudner and Rudner 1970: 266).�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������120 Figure 11.3. Division of the subcontinent into six regions by Willcox (after Willcox 1984: 128).�������������������������������121 Figure 12.1. Grey’s Figure from March 29th Cave. Image courtesy of Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections GMS 136.3�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������126 Figure 12.2. (Left) Wandjina. (Right) Dendroglyph of an Argula, ‘the spotted devil of the Wahgomeralis’. Explorer (Gunn) 1886�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������128 Figure 12.3. Laurell’s sketch of the Wandjina Wandada at Mt. Barnett. Image courtesy of Kim Akerman.���������������130 Figure 12.4. Roy Collison and Charles Price Conigrave with a ground figure of a crocodile. Image courtesy of Kim Akerman.������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������131 Figure 12.5. Two Wandjinas from Nyimundum Rock. Love 1930, Plate 2.�����������������������������������������������������������������������132

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Figure 13.1. Kimberley Region Western Australia (Michael P Rainsbury)����������������������������������������������������������������������137 Figure 13.2. Winged Figure (DRNP).��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������139 Figure 13.3. Gwion Figures (DRNP). (Sketch by Chris Henderson 1988.)�������������������������������������������������������������������������140 Figure 13.4. Joc Schmiechen, Lee Scott-Virtue, Mike Donaldson, David Welch.������������������������������������������������������������141 Figure 13.5. Grahame L Walsh 1944–2007 (The Australian, August 24, 2007).����������������������������������������������������������������143 Figure 14.1. Tree, Puthur Malai����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������149 Figure 14.2. Jain Tirthankar, Kidaripatti�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������150 Figure 14.3. Bird-headed man, Kidaripatti���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������151 Figure 14.4. Man riding a horse, Anaipatti���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������152 Figure 16.1. Key sites and geographic localities mentioned in the text. 1 – Besovy Sledki, Zalavruga; 2 – Kanozero; 3 – Kapova Cave (Shul’gan-Tash); 4 – Irbitskiy Pisanyi Kamen’; 5 – Tom’ rock art site; 6 – Boyarskaya Pisanitsa; 7 – Sagan-Zaba, Aya Bays; 8 – Shishkino; 9 – Sheremetyevo; 10 – SikachiAlyan; 11 – Pegtymel’.����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������160 Figure 16.2. Tom’ rock art site. Photo I. Ponomareva.��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������161 Figure 16.3. Shishkino rock art site. Photo I. Ponomareva.�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������162 Figure 16.4. Sikachi-Alyan. Photo I. Ponomareva.���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������164

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Chapter 1

Why the history of rock art research matters Joakim Goldhahn, Jamie Hampson, and Sam Challis Why does the history of rock art research matter? In many regions of the world, we can learn more about past societies from their rock art than from any other archaeological source (e.g. Whitley et al. 2020). Rock art research opens up new vistas on Indigenous beliefs about ‘being in the world’ (e.g. David and McNiven 2018; Goldhahn 2019; Hampson 2021; Lewis-Williams 2006; McDonald and Veth 2012). That said, histories of archaeology and anthropology (e.g. Fagan 1995; Murray and Evans 2008; Willey and Sabloff 1974), often imply that until recently there were no systematic studies of rock art. Some overviews of the history of archaeology devote a page or two to rock art studies (Schnapp 1996, cf. Bahn 1998); others do not mention rock art at all (e.g. Baudou 2004; Rowley-Conwy 2007). Implicit theoretical biases within the disciplines of archaeology and anthropology have  led to the privileging of stratigraphic excavation, or in the wording of Thomas Dowson (1993: 642), ‘occupational debris’. Ironically, and echoing the famous notion that ‘archaeology is anthropology or it is nothing’ (Willey and Phillips 1958: 2), the implication in these histories is that archaeology is digging, or it is nothing. In many geographical regions, and for too long, rock art research was considered by many to be a sub-set of socalled amateur, avocational, and/or fringe archaeology. While this might have been true in some contexts, we argue that rock art researchers have successfully married numerous data with cutting-edge theory for more than 300 years. One of the first theses on understanding and interpreting rock art, for example, was defended as long ago as 1780 at the Royal Academy in Lund, Sweden (Goldhahn 2018). The thesis, which for many years had been misunderstood (partly because it was written in Latin), focuses on the interpretation of the engravings from Bredarör on Kivik, a gigantic cairn with approximately 50 rock art images. It included a new and bold comparative dating method and a topographic analysis of the distribution of prehistoric remains and archaeological finds, such as Roman coins; these methodologies and analyses were then used to demonstrate successfully that the rock art under discussion was created in prehistoric times (Goldhahn 2020, this volume). Indeed, some rock art researchers were pioneers in defining the intellectual concepts and

Powerful Pictures (Archaeopress 2022): 1–5

frameworks that are still used in cognitive, heuristic, and problem-oriented archaeological research today (see Whitley and Clottes 2005; Whitley et al. 2020). In this anthology we do not suggest that there is a single factor that unites rock art researchers from different parts of the world; nor do we claim that there is a neat evolutionary tale running through the history of rock art research. We aim to present manifold approaches to the history of the archaeological discipline and to embrace these histories of global rock art research to create a better understanding about the significance of this media. Both chronologically and thematically, this book shows that rock art has often been central in shaping, and re-shaping, archaeological discourses around the world. Above all, our goal with this anthology is to demonstrate that rock art research did and does  matter. This is of course especially true to many Indigenous communities around the world who are certain that rock art motifs are animated beings, or powerful and spiritual things in themselves –  a belief which often is essential for fostering a strong sense of cultural identity and well-being (e.g. Brady and Taçon 2016; Keyser et al. 2006; Rozwadowski and Hampson 2021; Taçon 2019; Taçon and Baker 2019).  The structure and content of this anthology Stemming from the 20th Congress of the International Federation of Rock Art Organisations (IFRAO), held in Valcamonica (Italy) in 2018, and focusing on the history of research on paintings and engravings from around the world, the fifteen chapters in this book interrogate the driving forces behind rock art research globally. Many of the rock art motifs featured in the following pages were created by Indigenous groups; indeed, these chapters shed new light on non-Western rituals and worldviews, many of which are contested and threatened. The book is divided by continent, although several chapters explain how early research in one country (e.g. the USA) influenced the trajectory of archaeological investigations in others (e.g. Australia, India). Many of the chapters are very different in approach and content. This apparent discord is necessary for the sake of inclusivity, though for some research areas, this is the first historiographical treatment published in English.

Joakim Goldhahn, Jamie Hampson, and Sam Challis In the first section, on North America, Jamie Hampson and then Kelley Hays-Gilpin and Dennis Gilpin demonstrate how rock art research in the USA influenced the development of archaeology in the rest of the world. Hampson focuses on west Texas and the use of ethnographic analogy. He examines key publications from the 1880s on, discussing the utility of terms and approaches including evolutionary ‘picturewriting’ and ‘gesture-language’, empiricism and quantitative methodologies, salvage anthropology, and concepts of rock art as a form of embodiment. HaysGilpin and Gilpin show how relationships have changed between researchers who are mostly non-Indigenous, and Native Americans whose ancestors created almost all of what archaeologists call rock art. Some of the changes in the USA have been cyclical rather than linear in that researchers sometimes have listened to what Native American people have to say about rock art, and sometimes they have explicitly excluded those voices – occasionally, in an attempt to make archaeology more ‘scientific’ (e.g. Binford and Binford 1968). Nineteenth century ethnographies show that Native American understandings of rock art are many, varied, and persistent, and that early archaeologists recorded rock art as potential ‘data’ for understanding culture histories and identities. The conclusion from these first two chapters is that we would do well to carefully revisit, re-evaluate and reclaim our nineteenth-century disciplinary history.

an analysis of Carl Georg Brunius’ novel 1818 thesis – Rapport Succinct sur les Hieroglyphes trouvés sur les Rochers de la Province de Bohus – Goldhahn shows that Brunius was one of the first scholars to leave his comfy armchair and conduct goal-oriented archaeological research in northern Europe. Brunius’s fieldwork encompassed both a focused archaeological survey and excavations as well as dedicated documentation of rock art. Starting in 1815, and ending three summers later, Brunius documented 65 engraved panels to scale. He considered the imagery to be crude and raw, and argued that the motifs were made to commemorate ancient warriorhood, raids and feuds, some of which originated from amorous escapades. Influenced by the readings of Egyptian hieroglyphs, as well as some of the early North American researchers, Brunius maintained that the rock engravings he studied were an early form of pictorial writing. He argued that these images must have been created before people in northern Europe learned to master the runic alphabet. In advocating for this interpretation, he became one of the first scholars to actively use material culture to define and investigate an epoch before history, that is, a prehistory. Next, Margarita Diaz-Andreu investigates schematic art in Spain. She considers whether the professional background of rock art researchers working in this rock art tradition was and is different to that of those interested in other fields of archaeological research. Diaz-Andreu also considers the impact of theory on the study of schematic rock art, and assesses whether ideas developed in other areas of archaeology have influenced the way in which research on schematic rock art is undertaken in Spain.

Dagmara Zawadska’s chapter addresses landscape studies, rock art, and materiality in the Canadian Shield. She shows that although rock paintings and engravings remain poorly incorporated in many regional archaeological studies, rock art researchers often made major contributions to the advancement of landscape archaeology in North America, as well as to understandings of materiality in relation to Indigenous animic worldviews.

Richard Kuba and Martin Porr then address the contribution of Leo Frobenius, the most famous German anthropologist of the first half of the twentieth century. The authors trace aspects of Frobenius’s intellectual oeuvre, his specific ideas about rock art, and the motivations for his expeditions in Europe, Africa, New Guinea, and Australia. They illuminate the considerable success Frobenius had in exhibiting rock art in the 1930s in Europe and the United States after World War II, and discuss the relevance that Frobenius and his institute have had on contemporary rock art research.

Moving to Central America, Felix Lerma Rodriguez outlines research in Mexico and beyond, pointing out that far more attention has been given to monumental architecture, hieroglyphic writing, codices, and ceramics –  mostly because, unlike rock art, these artefacts were seen as Mesoamerican ‘high culture’ and therefore fundamental to the construction of national identities. Rodriguez considers the role that rock art research has played – and what role it might play in the future.

Turning to southern Africa, Sam Challis illustrates the story of making history from rock art. Efforts to reinstate San or other Indigenous Africans’ history from the emic perspective, especially towards the ending of apartheid, were noble and often political – especially those with historical materialist leanings. They were not unproblematic, however, and often struggled to break free of the constraints imposed by a distinct lack of chronology. Working with contact images more firmly situated in time, however, has since allowed

Moving across the Atlantic, Joakim Goldhahn demonstrates some of the many challenges as well as the opportunities we face when attempting to write a history of rock art research. Goldhahn charts the formation of an archaeological science in northern Europe in the light of rock art research. Through 2

Why the history of rock art research matters

some researchers to contribute hypotheses that can be tested against the ethnographic and historical record.

the outbreak of World War II. Several members of the research team, including Helmut Petri and Andreas Lommel, and the artists Gerta Kleist and Agnes Schulz, made lasting contributions to our understanding of Kimberley rock art (e.g. Lommel 1952; Schulz 1956).

David Witelson addresses issues surrounding the ‘integration’ of rock art and other archaeological subdisciplines in southern African research. He argues that a distinction between archaeology and rock art research is rooted in historical methodology that continues to burden current analysis. Despite the distinction, it is integration (and not any form of separation) that is widely held to be a broad aim of, if not an obstacle for, Later Stone Age research in southern Africa. Integration is, however, more problematic than it first appears: does integration refer to some concise, defined endpoint? Is integration an unrealistic ideal? These are difficult questions to answer, but Witelson makes some useful suggestions as to how we might usefully proceed.

Several of the earliest interpretations of Kimberley rock art were made under the strong influence of so-called Victorian Anthropology, a Eurocentric research paradigm that was (unfortunately) embraced by some rock art scholars until well into the 21st century (cf. McNiven and Russell 2005; McNiven 2011). Unsurprisingly, polemical colonial texts and interpretations continue to fuel heated debates on how best to interpret certain rock art traditions and motifs. The intensive surveys and research frameworks which sparked much of these debates in the 1990s and early 2000s are outlined in Joc Schmiechen’s chapter on Gwion Gwion art in the Kimberley.

Ghilraen Laue takes us into the history of research into regional difference in southern African rock art, arguing that, until recently, the heuristic value of the ‘cognitive’ approach to San rock art led to a relegation of previously important issues. Her historical rock art research exposé starts in the late 1920s with the work of Miles Burkitt, and ends with suggested ways to create new paths to help us to understand the regionality of rock art assemblages in southern Africa, and beyond. She identifies several challenges for the future, including the lack of comprehensive and comparable survey data and the need for firm regional rock art chronologies. Laue’s chapter clearly shows how contemporary research agendas are related and nested in a nexus of tropes that have often been defined by an earlier research generation, situated in another time and cultural context –  nexuses that are a vital part of most, if not all, contemporary and concurrent archaeological practices.

The final chapters in the book are set in Asia. Sujitha Pillai investigates rock art research in India, and in Tamil Nadu in particular. As in many regions of the globe, rock art research in India was forged in a colonial setting, and it was not until after liberation from the British Empire that research about rock art in southern Asia gained momentum. Pillai focuses on the rock art of Madurai, with its unique style of red and white pictographs and petroglyphs connected to Jainism. In Tseren Byambasuren’s chapter we learn that Mongolian rock art was first (re)discovered and published by the Russian researcher Potanin in 1886. Mongolian research then escalated after World War II, in close collaboration with archaeologists from the Soviet Union, including famous scholars such as Okladnikov and Tseveendorj. After the Glasnost era of the 1990s, and especially the fall of the Berlin Wall, cooperation with other international researchers, such as Devlet and Jacobson-Tepfer, increased. Tseren is one of the first researchers to consider the overarching narrative of the history of Mongolian rock art research.

From Africa eastward to the Antipodes, the next two chapters outline historical rock art research in the Kimberley region of northern Australia. Michael Rainsbury starts with a survey of the early explorers and researchers in the Kimberley from 1838 to 1938. The overview is organised chronologically, starting with the first expeditions in the late 1830s, when George Grey documented rock art, and ending with the first fieldwork of trained anthropologists such as A.P. Elkin, who later became one of the first professors of anthropology in Australia at the University of Sydney. Elkin spent a year in the Kimberley, and is often said to be the first Western researcher that started to investigate the rock art from an Indigenous perspective. He also republished the paintings that Grey first documented in 1838, and started to reinterpret them in line with the original artists’ world view (e.g. Elkin 1930, 1948). Rainsbury’s chapter ends with some notes on the 22nd Frobenius expedition, to the Kimberley, just before

In the final chapter, Irina Ponomareva reviews rock art research in the largest country in the world: Russia. Her overview stretches from Lake Onega and the Kola Peninsula in the west to the Kamchatka Peninsula and the North Pacific Sea in the east; and her research history covers four centuries, from the 1630s when the first explorers started to document rock art and collate ethnographic information about the meaning and significance of the art, to the post-Glasnost Russia of today, when much research is carried out in collaboration with international scholars. Many of the rock art traditions that are situated in today’s Russia show close relationships to rock art traditions in other countries, and indeed continents. Ponomareva 3

Joakim Goldhahn, Jamie Hampson, and Sam Challis concludes by addressing rock art research during the Soviet era, when archaeology was professionalised and considered a priority by the communist state regime (Klejn 2012). Most of the research analysed in this chapter was originally published in Russian, a language that few of today’s rock art scholars master, which makes her contribution vital from a global perspective.

Meaning, and Significance. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Cartailhac, É. and H. Breuil 1906. La caverne d’Altamira à Santillana, près de Santander (Espagne). Monaco. David, B. and I. McNiven (eds) 2018. The Oxford Handbook of the Archaeology and Anthropology of Rock Art. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Dowson, T. 1993. Changing fortunes of Southern African archaeology: Comment on A.D Mazel’s ‘history’. Antiquity 67 (256): 641–644. Elkin, A.P. 1930. Rock-Paintings of North-West Australia. Oceania 1 (3): 257–279. Elkin, A.P. 1948. Grey’s Northern Kimberley CavePaintings Re-Found. Oceania 19 (1): 1–15. Goldhahn, J. 2018. To let mute stones speak – on the becoming of archaeology, in E. Meijer and J. Dodd (eds) Giving the Past a Future: Essays in Archaeology and Rock Art Studies in Honour of Dr. fil. h.c. Gerhard Milstreu: 37–57. Oxford: Archaeopress. Goldhahn, J. (guest ed.) 2019. A two volume special edition on ‘Rock Art Worldings’. Time and Mind: The Journal of Archaeology, Consciousness and Culture 12(2/3). Goldhahn, J. 2020. Monumento Kiwikensi: En AntiArkeologisk Avhandling från 1780. Kalmar: Kalmar Studies in Archaeology XV. Goldhahn, J. 2021. Thinking images through, In C. Tilley, Thinking Through Images: Narrative, Rhythm, Embodiment and Landscape in the Nordic Bronze Age: xiii–xx. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Hampson, J. (in press). Towards an understanding of Indigenous rock art from an ideational cognitive perspective: History, method, and theory from west Texas, North America, and beyond. In Oxford Handbook of Cognitive Archaeology, F. Coolidge, T. Wynn and K. Overmann (eds). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Keyser, J., G. Poetschat and M. Taylor (eds) 2006. Talking with the Past: The Ethnography of Rock Art. Portland: The Oregon Archaeological Society, Publication 16. Klejn, L.S. 2012. Soviet Archaeology: Schools, Trends, and History. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Klindt-Jensen, O. 1975. A History of Scandinavian Archaeology. London: Thames & Hudson. Lewis-Williams, J.D. 2006. The evolution of theory, method and technique in southern African rock art research. Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory 13 (4): 343–377. Lommel, A. 1952. Die Unabal: Ein Stamm in NordwestAustralien. Hamburg: Monographien zur Völkerkunde 2. Madariga de la Campa, B. 2001. Sanz de Sautuola and the Discovery of the Caves of Altamira. Santander: Fundación Marcelino Botín. McDonald, J. and P. Veth (eds) 2012. A Companion to Rock Art. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell. McNiven, I.J. 2011. The Bradshaw debate: Lessons learned from critiquing colonialist interpretations

Final remarks We hope that this book demonstrates that the history of rock art research is not only a key part of any rock art research, but also that it is crucial for our understanding of the history of archaeology and related academic disciplines. Often, the earliest suggested explanations and interpretations of a rock art corpus linger in the collective memory, even when more persuasive and more compelling hypotheses have been proposed. It seems an obvious truism that researchers should be clear about which strands of evidence, which methods of argument, and which theoretical frameworks they are rejecting, and which they are complementing or augmenting. Far too often, however, researchers do not make these decisions explicit. The history of the philosophy of science shows us that when people ‘stand on the shoulders of giants’, they do not always fully acknowledge the work of those giants or indeed analyze the assumptions that underpin earlier research frameworks. As the saying goes, history has a tendency to repeat itself (cf. Goldhahn 2021). Careful consideration of the history of rock art research allows us to unfold the cultural histories embedded within specific researchers’ endeavours to try to understand this informative and powerful visual culture. Some interpretations tell us more about specific researchers’ minds and histories, exposing their preconceptions, in the Gadamerian sense of the word, and less about the rock art itself, or indeed the artists who created these artworks. There are opportunities to use the history of archaeology and rock art study as a nexus for reconsidering cultural histories and de-colonizing research practices – and we hope that this volume serves as a catalyst for such pursuits. References Bahn, P. 1998. The Cambridge Illustrated History of Prehistoric Art. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Baudou, E. 2004. Den Nordiska Arkeologin – Historia och Tolkningar. Stockholm: Kungl. Vitterhets Historie och Antikvitets Akademien. Binford, L.R. and Binford, S.R. 1968. New Perspectives in Archeology. Chicago: Aldine Publishing Company. Brady, L. and P.S.C. Taçon (eds) 2016. Relating to Rock Art in the Contemporary World: Navigating Symbolism, 4

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of Gwion Gwion rock paintings of the Kimberley, Western Australia. Australian Archaeology 72: 35– 44. McNiven, I.J. and L. Russell 2005. Appropriated Pasts: Indigenous Peoples and the Colonial Culture of Archaeology. Lanham: AltaMira Press. Ramos, P.A.S. 1998. The Cave of Altamira. New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc. Publishers. Rowley-Conwy, P. 2007. From Genesis to Prehistory: The Archaeological Three Age System and its Contested Reception in Denmark, Britain, and Ireland. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rozwadowski, A. and J. Hampson (eds) 2021. Visual Culture and Identity: Using Rock Art to Re-connect Past and Present. Oxford: Archaeopress.

Schnapp, A. 1996. The Discovery of the Past: The Origins of Archaeology. London: British Museum Press. Schulz, A. 1956. North West Australian Rock Paintings. Memoirs of the National Museum of Victoria 20: 7–57. Taçon, P.S.C. 2019. Connecting to the ancestors: Why rock art is important for Indigenous Australians and their well-being. Rock Art Research 36 (1): 5–14. Taçon, P.S.C. and S. Baker 2019. New and emerging challenges to heritage and well-being: A critical review. Heritage 2019 (2): 1300–1315. Trigger, B.G. 2006. A History of Archaeological Thought. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press Whitley, D., J. Loubser and G. Whitelaw (eds) 2020. Cognitive Archaeology: Mind, Ethnography, and the Past in South Africa and Beyond. New York: Routledge.

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Chapter 2

The history of rock art research in west Texas, North America, and beyond Jamie Hampson Abstract Most histories of archaeology suggest that, until recently, systematic studies of rock art did not exist. As early as the nineteenth century, however, rock art researchers not only acquired and analyzed archaeological and anthropological data and knowledge, they were also among the first to define the intellectual concepts that continue to drive problemoriented research today. This chapter does not claim that there was (or still is) a tidy, single factor that unites rock art researchers. By outlining the goals and successes of some of the early North American rock art studies, however, and by drawing on historiography from North America and beyond, this chapter demonstrates that rock art researchers helped shape the burgeoning discipline of archaeology. It also highlights the recursive nature between theory and data, and situates the few studies that focus on the rock art of west Texas within the broader, continent-wide research history.

Histories of both North American and worldwide archaeology (e.g. Fagan 1995; Fowler 1980; Kehoe 1998; Meltzer 1979; Murray and Evans 2008; Trigger 1989; Willey and Sabloff 1974) often imply that, until recently, there were no systematic studies of rock art. Some (e.g. Kehoe 1998: 163, 202–203; Trigger 1989: 101, 351, 395) devote two or three pages to rock art studies; others (Willey and Sabloff 1974) fail to mention rock art at all. Historiographically, implicit theoretical biases within the discipline of North American archaeology –  itself an academic sub-category of anthropology – led to the privileging of stratigraphic excavation. As early as the nineteenth century, however, rock art researchers not only gathered archaeological and anthropological data but also pioneered and developed intellectual concepts that continue to drive cognitive, heuristic, and problem-oriented archaeological research today (e.g. Whitley 2001: 10–21; Whitley and Clottes 2005). I do not suggest that there is a single factor that united rock art researchers; nor do I claim there is a neat evolutionary tale running through the history of rock art research. In this chapter, however, by outlining the aims and successes of some of the early North American studies, both chronologically and thematically, I demonstrate that rock art researchers helped shape the discipline of archaeology. I situate the few studies that focus on the rock art of west Texas (Figure 2.1) within the broader, continent-wide Powerful Pictures (Archaeopress 2022): 6–16

historiography, and explain briefly how these studies influenced my and other researchers’ fieldwork and hypotheses.1 Picture-writing, evolution, and the ‘inspiration and requirements of religion’: 1880s – 1920s Colonel Garrick Mallery (1831–1894) was one of the first North American rock art researchers. Although he rarely ventured into the field, relying instead on descriptions and illustrations from dozens of individual correspondents (Hinsley 1981: 169; Robinson 2006), his contribution to North American archaeology is justifiably lauded. Working in Washington, DC for the Bureau of Ethnology (founded in 1879, later renamed the Bureau of American Ethnology (BAE)), Mallery collated thousands of observational data relating to North American ‘gesture-language’ or ‘picture-writing” –  what we today call rock art. His influence can be clearly seen in the title of A. T. Jackson’s seminal 1938 work for the Greater Southwest or Gran Chichimeca,2 The picture-writing of Texas Indians (below). The primary goal of the nineteenth-century BAE was to ‘map’ the anthropology of the native peoples within the borders of the United States, just as earlier geographical expeditions had mapped the allegedly uninhabited Western frontier. Mallery (1886, 1893) went beyond this primary goal, attempting to ‘ascertain the laws governing the direct visible expression of ideas between men’ (Mallery 1886: xxviii). Drawing on Cotton Mather’s illustrations and statements from the early 1700s,3 Mallery employed an epigraphic or philological approach to indigenous rock art, based on the assumption that the enigmatic images were an early form of writing (Robinson 2006). Here was a stage of evolution where ‘primitive people’ conveyed their ideas through bodily movements, ‘gesturelanguage’, and then re-created those movements onto I do not include an analysis of work published after Kirkland and Newcomb’s seminal 1967 book: see Hampson (forthcoming) for an analysis of research and publications from 1968 up until the present day. 2  The Gran Chichimeca is defined as a region on the northern periphery of Mesoamerica, and is roughly synonymous with the American Greater Southwest (see Hampson 2016a, 2016b). 3  For information on the Dighton Rock (Massachusetts) engravings, see Mallery (1893: plate LIV). 1 

The history of rock art research in west Texas, North America, and beyond

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the indigenous peoples and seizing their land, Mallery championed the fact that rock art interpretations should address issues of hunter-gatherer beliefs and lifeways –  a key point that underscores much later research (e.g. Boas 1927; Hays-Gilpin 2004; Schaafsma 2018; Turpin 1994; Whitley 1992). Mallery (1893: 770) also stressed the religious nature of the rock art: ‘A large proportion of the petroglyphs [rock engravings] in America are legitimately connected with myths and the religious practices of the authors.’ As Mallery (1893:

rock surfaces as ‘picture-writing’. Mallery was thus one of the first researchers to consider rock art as a form of embodiment, a theory not fully developed until advanced in the social sciences almost a century later (Blundell 2004; Hampson 2016a, 2016b; Schaafsma 2018). Alongside this nineteenth-century unilinear evolutionary perspective, which was explicitly adopted by the US government to justify ‘civilizing’ 7

Jamie Hampson 770) made clear in 1893, tribes such as the Zuni, Hopi, Navajo and Ojibwa

in the burgeoning academic discipline to ignore rock art on the grounds that it was an ethnological – rather than archaeological – topic. Despite anecdotal evidence within the archaeological community to the contrary, then, rock art was not marginalized originally because it was considered irrelevant or trivial, or because it could not be studied using archaeological techniques; rock art research in Europe flourished precisely with the onset of the ‘stratigraphic revolution’ and, later, as a result of improved dating techniques. As Whitley and Clottes (2005) make clear, rock art was ignored because it did not fall within the remit of archaeology. Put simply, although rock art is undoubtedly a form of material culture, it was not considered archaeological.

have kept up on the one hand their old religious practices and on the other that of picture writing. … The rites and ceremonies of these tribes are to some extent shown pictorially on the rocks, some of the characters of which have until lately been wholly meaningless, but are now identified as drawings of the paraphernalia used in or diagrams of the drama of their rituals. Unless those rituals with the creeds and cosmologies connected with them had been learned, the petroglyphs would never have been interpreted. Mallery was not the first researcher to champion the efficacy, or, indeed, the necessity of ethnography. In the 1850s, Henry Schoolcraft had interviewed indigenous groups in Ohio and attributed at least some of the rock art in North America to ‘priests’ versed in ‘magic medicine’ – but Mallery’s project was the first to apply ethnographic evidence to large bodies of rock art throughout the continent.

All this makes Charles Peabody’s 1909 article, A reconnaissance trip in western Texas, and his keen interest in paintings, remarkable (Figure 2.2). Peabody (1909: 209) wrote that: Of the archaeology of the Trans-Pecos [or Big Bend] territory little is known... Pueblo Indians do not seem to have occupied it; the inhospitable character of the land does not invite permanent settlement; tribes, however, passing through on

Paradoxically, however, Mallery’s call for ethnographic analysis unwittingly led to the decision by archaeologists

Figure 2.2. Charles Peabody and Mitre Peak, west Texas. Courtesy of Blackwell Publishing.

8

The history of rock art research in west Texas, North America, and beyond

errands of migration, or hunting, or by reason of their warfare with Americans or Mexicans or with other Indians, have left traces at their stopping places.

Whitley and Clottes (2005) point out, this is a wellknown methodological rather than an epistemological problem; informants are understandably reluctant to answer sensitive questions. Steward ignored his own data – or implied they were little more than anecdotal trivia – for theoretical reasons: like many researchers worldwide, he wanted to show that the ideal (or typic) primitive stage of socio-cultural evolution demonstrated no capacity for socio-political organization, religion, art, or symbolism (Whitley and Clottes 2005: 168–169). Later, in 1938, Steward famously referred to the Numic-speaker culture as essentially ‘gastric’ or ‘practical’ in nature. His hypothesis strongly influenced North American archaeologists for decades.

Following Franz Boas and other eminent anthropologists, several ‘salvage ethnographies’ and anthropological syntheses were conducted in the Greater Southwest in the late 1800s and early 1900s. Peabody, however, unfortunately implied that salvage ethnography in west Texas would yield no meaningful results – simply because he believed that there was no ethnography to salvage! Peabody concluded his 1909 article by briefly mentioning other archaeological material, including what he called ‘a ceremonial arrowhead cache’ discovered on Mount Livermore. It is clear that Peabody did more than simply describe – he also suggested possible avenues of future research within an interpretive, heuristic framework, stressing the possibility of complex religious and ceremonial capabilities of early settlers and nomadic groups in Texas.

It is telling that two 1920s’ articles that mention west Texas rock art were published by a folklore –  rather than an archaeological –  society, and written by an avocational archaeologist. Victor Smith was Professor of Industrial Arts at Sul Ross Normal College (now a State University) in Alpine, Texas. Smith employed parts of a) Mallery’s evolutionary, b) Peabody’s diffusionist (or migratory), and c) Steward’s ecological frameworks, but he was also interested in the symbolism and deeper meanings of the rock art – indeed, more so than most eminent, academic anthropologists of the 1920s.

Unfortunately, however, by the 1920s the value of ethnographic research and its applicability to North American archaeology was being questioned more frequently and in greater depth. This is well illustrated by Julian Steward’s development as an anthropologist in the University of California in Berkeley. As a young graduate student, Steward was heavily influenced by Robert Lowie and Alfred Kroeber’s salvage anthropologies; Steward was duly optimistic about what we could learn from and about the past. By 1929, however, when Steward published his Petroglyphs of California and adjoining states, although he was developing ideas of cultural ecology and multilinear evolution, and although he continued to contribute much to anthropological theory, his ethnographic despair was fully entrenched. Steward’s chapter in his 1929 book, entitled ‘Meaning and purpose’, starts:

Echoing Peabody, Smith implied that rock art is not only symbolic but also a valid topic for archaeological study: It should not be supposed, however, that pictographs … are mere idle scrawls. … [A]s deeper studies of symbolism are developed, it is apparent that a careful record [and analysis] of all existing inscriptions is of great importance to this branch of archaeology. Similar sentiments were expressed by George Dorsey of the Smithsonian4 when he wrote to Smith in 1923 suggesting that it was ‘desirable that further work be done in your region since many of the drawings in Southwest Texas are of deep import and have religious symbolism’ (Smith 1923: 1).

Innumerable attempts have been made to ascertain the meanings of petroglyphs and pictographs [rock paintings] from Indians living at present in the regions where they occur. These have invariably met with failure. The Indians disclaim all knowledge of their meaning and origin (Steward 1929: 224).

Smith wisely warned us about the potential dangers of quantitative studies, pointing out that by themselves, numbers in archaeology are often meaningless. In any rock art corpus, for example, just because a certain animal is painted or engraved numerous times, does not necessarily mean it was important to the artists or their communities. The inverse is also true: if a certain animal features in a rock art corpus only once or twice,

This was clearly and simply wrong, as evidenced by the salvage ethnographies mentioned above, and indeed by Steward’s own examples of ethnographic rock art data that follow later in the chapter – regarding, for example, puberty rituals and mythical water monsters seen in visions. Admittedly, some Native American informants did and do disclaim any knowledge of rock art, but as

4  Dorsey was the first person to graduate from Harvard University with a PhD in Anthropology. He was also a founding member of the American Anthropological Association and Curator of (what is now) the National Museum of Natural History.

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Jamie Hampson this does not necessarily mean that that animal was unimportant to the artists or their communities.

When Smith (Smith 1925: 14) depicts hand and arms from an Algonkian rock art site, he suggests that they were ‘reaching beyond the sky for power from Ki’tshi Man’dio [the Great Spirit]. The zigzag line upon the arm denotes mysterious power.’ He then wonders whether similar zigzags on a decorated reindeer horn from La Madeleine in France are in any way connected. Of course we have to be careful of overly-simplistic games of ethnographic ‘snap’ – but the point here is to show that people were thinking in useful ways about analogies a hundred years ago. Smith (1925: 16) spoke of a painting being

Another fascinating quote jumps out from Smith’s (1925: 7) article: [W]e must look to the customs and habits of existing and historically recorded primitive peoples in order to throw light upon a subject which otherwise may be known only from the argumentative evidence of archaeological finds. Smith was aware that ethnographic evidence helps researchers avoid the trap of circularity: we need not and should not infer meaning from the images and archaeological data themselves. Pace Wobst (1978) and others, then, here is the tyranny of not using ethnography. Indeed, Smith employed ethnographic analogies to discuss universality and symbolism; he again makes clear that the images were not ‘art for art’s sake’, one of the most prevalent arguments of the time (despite its patent circularity):

symbolical of a ritual specialist’s arm raised in supplication to the great spirit. A similar Indian design is that of the arm combined with the sky, which is also intended to signify power. In cases where direct observation has not definitely established the fact of symbolic meaning, it is safe to assume from known cases and from the laborious work necessary to produce some of the drawings that the prehistoric records likewise have genuine significance.

In reviewing the available material which refers to the use of the hand motif in primitive art, it is at once evident not only that such markings were universally used in the arts of primitive peoples but that such use carried with it a large amount of symbolic meaning. (Smith 1925: 7; italics added.)

This is one of Smith’s most important but overlooked contributions to Texas and indeed North American archaeology: even without region-specific or recent ethnography, there is no need for despair or resignation. Smith concludes his 1925 article with the following: We may safely conclude that matters concerning religion, magic, and the supernatural, prompted most of the hand drawings. In such cases this design was used to denote supplication to the Great Spirit or Master of Life, and stands, in the Indian system of picture writing, as a symbol for strength, power, and desire for the mastery of a thing which may be beyond the power of the individual to achieve without divine aid. … Granted that the caves of Europe yield evidence of man’s first esthetic achievements, it follows that such works are due primarily to the inspiration and requirements of religion, since practically all such achievements of mankind have been prompted by the same motives. (Smith 1925: 102; italics added.)

Smith suggested that the depiction of the human hand is one of the earliest artistic efforts of prehistoric and primitive man. … Once an accidental print of this sort [i.e., in sand, clay, or mud] was observed, it was quite natural that the idea should be played with. Possibly a muddy hand was used to produce the first prints. Such a trick of reproducing the hand might easily spread and assume more permanent form as it became identified with the idea of magic. (Smith 1925: 6.) Although Smith does not develop this notion of ‘magic’, he clearly considers handprints to be both symbolic and significant. In addition, he (Smith 1925: 7) stated that ‘as an artistic work these designs probably excited emotion, curiosity, and sometimes even terror. Civilized man speaks of the ‘magic of art.’ Primitive man actually believed in it.’ Here, Smith suggests that the function of rock art was not only to maintain cohesion and stability within the group. A work of art could be and was indeed consumed or used by individuals and groups, both at the moment of its creation and subsequently.

Nonetheless for the development of rock art research, Smith was an academic anomaly; empiricist, ecological determinism was becoming increasingly more entrenched as a dominant theoretical framework. Empiricism, typology, and ‘guides to necessities of life’: 1930s – 1960s No one would wish to question the value of the vast amount of data that A.T. Jackson –  empiricist par 10

The history of rock art research in west Texas, North America, and beyond

excellence – collected. His was a massive and laborious undertaking, and his 1938 book, Picture-writing of Texas Indians,  is indispensable to any rock art researcher working in Texas or the Greater Southwest.

common ideas and concepts. These facts illustrate beautifully and, perhaps, more forcefully than any other line of study could, the fundamental unity in the prehistoric civilizations in the Americas.’ Despite the aridity of the empiricist agendas prevalent at the time, and his own admission that he was more interested in documentation (as a form of preservation) than interpretation, Jackson emphasises here the high probability that a) fundamental common ideas and concepts were extant throughout much of the Americas, and b) at least some of the rock art was connected with indigenous beliefs and worldviews.

Unfortunately, Jackson downplayed the possibility that rock art images were indicative of early man’s cognitive capacities. For example, in a patronizing manner, deliberately missing an opportunity to discuss symbolism and non-realism, Jackson (1938: 6) stated that in numerous cases the rock pictures appear deliberately to have been left incomplete, mutilated or distorted. … Certain cases of exaggeration may have been the result of a sense of humor of the primitive artist.

Even when rock art research was considered an anthropological topic, however, it was never a central one. Ironically, anthropologists –  who were more concerned with linguistics and social relations at this time –  marginalised rock art in their studies because it was clearly a kind of material culture, and therefore archaeological. Alfred Kroeber (1925), for instance, discussed rock art only in the final chapter of Handbook of the Indians of California; and Harold Driver (1937) asked informants about the origins of motifs but relegated rock art to his ‘Archaeological residuum’ category (see Whitley and Clottes 2005: 170). Even more surprisingly, Boas’s (1927) Primitive art rarely mentions petroglyphs or pictographs. Despite this, it is important to note that Kroeber (1925) was the first to suggest that Californian Chumash rock art was probably shamanistic in origin and also that it depicted hallucinatory imagery; Driver (1937) also quoted an indigenous informant who stated that rock art represents the spirits that a shaman perceives in the supernatural world (Whitley 2006: 1).

Jackson favoured Steward’s ecological and environmentally adaptive theories, and pointed out that the majority of sites were in the semi-arid region of the state, ‘possibly because [the paintings were] helpful as guides to necessities of life’ (Jackson 1938: 4). This misleading and overly simplistic viewpoint – that rock art panels are handy guides for ‘happy’ hunters – is still fairly commonly held worldwide. Jackson (1938: 464) started his two-page section on ‘Meaning’ by declaring that ‘The meanings of a few of the pictures are self-evident; some are suggested in the paintings and carvings; many will never be known.’ But he does not tell the reader on what grounds he makes this important distinction. Why are some of the meanings self-evident and others only suggested? As in the history of rock art research on other continents, the preconceived notion that rock art illustrates quotidian activities almost certainly underlies this putative distinction. This is an important issue, not least because it has pervaded rock art research in many countries and through many decades. Obviously, researchers often forget that they need to demonstrate the quotidian status of images as much as they have to demonstrate supernatural contexts.

Before I turn to the next article featuring west Texas rock art, I consider the notion of archaeology as ‘systematic science’. Worldwide, empiricist archaeologists in the 1930s grew increasingly concerned with lithics, stratigraphy, and typology. In rock art studies, stratigraphy could (and still can) be replaced by ‘superpositioning’ of images, and typology by ‘styles’. If rock art researchers in the 1930s and beyond wished to enter the professional archaeological fold, they had to emulate lithic researchers and produce ‘objective’ sequences and the accompanying graphs, histograms, and statistics (Whitley and Clottes 2005: 171–172). Even these tactics, and the adoption of quantitative studies, could not promote rock art to a central role in the archaeological discipline; because its meaning was considered self-evident –  illustrative of daily life and, increasingly, of gastric and ecologically adaptive needs – there was no need to study it in depth. Rock art was seen as nothing more than a diverting and parenthetical aside (Whitley and Clottes 2005: 172).

Jackson (1938: 464) continues by stating that ‘Since the Texas Indians were driven out of the state more than 50 years ago, and before any scientific interest in ethnology had appeared in Texas, or elsewhere for that matter, the opportunity for comparative study is gone.’ In a few words, and drawing heavily from Steward, Jackson appears here to dismiss all ethnological (and ethnographic) work undertaken prior to the 1880s as unscientific – and all such work since as irrelevant! Interestingly, Jackson (1938: 465) looked at the widespread distribution of many design elements throughout not only the Greater Southwest but also into Middle and South America, suggesting that this equated to ‘a widespread distribution of fundamental

An example of the consolidation of the simplistic gastric hypothesis is provided by John Goodwin’s 1953 handbook Method in prehistory. The South African 11

Jamie Hampson

Figure 2.3. Forrest Kirkland’s watercolours of the rock art at Meyers Springs, Texas. Courtesy of Texas Archaeological Research Laboratory.

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The history of rock art research in west Texas, North America, and beyond

Goodwin (1953: 128) reaffirmed a popular notion concerning European Upper Palaeolithic cave art: ‘Primitive art expressed man’s most insistent need; to the hunter this meant fresh, tender meat.’ Indeed, the middle decades of the twentieth century saw the entrenchment of the complementary and much lauded notion of ‘hunting’ –  or ‘sympathetic’ –  magic: the vaguely defined idea that the production of rock art ensured a successful hunt.5 Before and after World War II the influential Abbé Henri Breuil (1955) was a keen proponent of this putatively self-evident and allencompassing explanation for the production of much of the rock art in Europe.

According to Kirkland and Newcomb (1967: 17), early man in Texas needed ‘entertainment’ in addition to food. Thus, rock art ‘turns a drab and cheerless existence into one charged with drama and excitement’; without specific evidence, this circular argument –  found in many countries as a ‘gaze-and-guess’ extension of the ill-defined and unhelpful notion of ‘art for art’s sake’ – is patently meaningless. Similarly telling is Kirkland and Newcomb’s (1967: 31) statement that: ‘Inquiries into [the art’s] purpose seem almost superfluous; the viewer is tempted to share its delights rather than wonder at its rationale.’ This contradicts a rhetorical question asked by Kirkland and Newcomb (1967: 14) at the outset: ‘how could the art of any people be anything but a reflection of the physical and cultural world in which they are immersed?’ In other words, we are able to ‘wonder at [an art’s] rationale’ (Kirkland and Newcomb 1967: 31). And, indeed, Newcomb repeatedly does.

In the far west USA, Robert Heizer and Martin Baumhoff championed the hunting magic explanation throughout the 1960s. Earlier in his academic career, and in stark contrast to Steward and Cressman, Heizer (1953) had hinted at the potential value of ethnographic research while investigating the pit-and-groove cupule rocks of northern California. Indeed, he demonstrated that Native Americans had made the pit-and-grooves in the recent past. Similarly, he used ethnography to suggest (in an unpublished document) that certain Nevada petroglyphs were related to shamanistic visionquesting (Whitley and Clottes 2005: 173). By 1962, however, Heizer began to develop the argument that Numic-speakers’ rock art sites in the Great Basin were almost always found on migratory animal game trails – a claim that Whitley (2000) and others later discredited – and, ultimately, that the rock art itself would influence the outcome of hunting expeditions. Exercising faulty logic, Heizer and Baumhoff (1962) asserted that Great Basin rock art must pre-date the ethnographic period because hunting magic, as a motivation for creating the images, was categorically denied by all Native American consultants. The complementary suggestion that pit-and-groove rock art was the earliest form of art in the far western USA contradicted what Heizer had published in 1953. As Whitley and Clottes (2005: 173) make clear, ‘Ethnography and its implications had been eliminated in the direct and indirect sense.’

On the whole, it is important to note that Kirkland and Newcomb started to ask – and sometimes answer –  interesting questions: For instance, Kirkland and Newcomb (1967: 16) state boldly that ‘the cliché that man does not live by bread alone is an understatement’. Referring to mythological beasts, superposition, and the possible sacredness of rock shelter walls in southern Africa, Newcomb opines that ‘the art was in part a magical or religious one, or that the act of painting rather than the result itself was important’ (Kirkland and Newcomb 1967: 31) Recognizing the need to impress proponents of the New Archaeology, Kirkland and Newcomb (1967: 22) suggest correctly that rock art is ‘amenable to scientific study and analysis just as are spear points, pottery vessels, marriage customs, and political habits’. Moreover, this is true even if rock art is a material residue of ceremonial behaviour (Kirkland and Newcomb 1967: 17): [M]any rock paintings and petroglyphs are analogous to the fossilized bones … in that they are all that survives of ancient ceremonies, rituals, and other activities. They are the bare bones of something once fuller and fleshed out.

Almost thirty years elapsed between Jackson’s pioneering work in the 1930s and the next publication featuring rock art from west Texas. The fieldwork that resulted in stunning colour reproductions of scores of sites in Kirkland and Newcomb’s 1967 The rock art of Texas Indians, however, was conducted by an artist, Forrest Kirkland, between 1934 and 1941 (Figure 2.3). William Newcomb did not write the text until 1966.

Kirkland and Newcomb (1967: 217) both believed that the ‘elaborate’ rock art of the Lower Pecos (to the east of the Big Bend region) was painted for ‘magico-religious reasons’ and that it was clearly ‘part of ceremonial or cult activities’.6 Similarly, ‘there can be little doubt that the paintings are religious art which was part of an Archaic culture’s attempts to influence and gain assistance from supernatural powers’ (Kirkland and

5  Sympathetic magic is defined as ‘primitive or magical ritual using objects or actions resembling or symbolically associated with the event or person over which influence is sought’ (Oxford English Dictionary).

6  For pioneering research on the rock art of the Lower Pecos, see Turpin (1982, 1994), Boyd (2003), and chapters in Whitley (2001).

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Jamie Hampson Newcomb 1967: 80). Why did they not believe the same was true of the rock art in the Big Bend? They noted that at some sites in the Big Bend, because of their location in hard-to-access places, several polychrome paintings ‘must have represented more than idle daubing’ (Kirkland and Newcomb 1967: 135). The same theoretical and methodological frameworks were employed in each region, and potentially illuminating ethnographic sources for both the Lower Pecos and the Big Bend ignored. Perhaps it was a matter of aesthetics. According to Kirkland and Newcomb (1967: 127), in the Big Bend ‘the rock art sites are widely scattered and the art rather rudimentary’. Despite earlier comments (Kirkland and Newcomb 1967: 16) about the dangers of interpreting according to aesthetic style, Newcomb suggests that ‘simpler’ motifs (as defined by Western researchers, a dangerous notion in itself) are incapable of possessing the same symbolic depth as more complex ones. He does not give reasons for this. Towards heuristic, problem-oriented approaches

Figure 2.4. Another example of the stunning rock art in west Texas, at Hueco Tanks, c. 20 cm wide. Courtesy of J. McCulloch.

Space does not permit me to discuss the advances made after the publication of Kirkland and Newcomb’s (1967) seminal work (cf. Hampson forthcoming), but it is important to note the contributions in far west Texas of David Ing et al. (1996), Miriam Lowrance (1998), Tim Roberts (2005), Robert Mallouf (2005), and others at the Center for Big Bend Studies at Sul Ross State University. These researchers, like others worldwide, did a great deal to raise the profile of rock art, and spur conservation efforts. Farther afield, it was the pioneering and transformative work of Polly Schaafsma (1982, 2003), Solveig Turpin (1982, 1994), David Whitley (1992, 2000), Carolyn Boyd (2003), Kelley Hays-Gilpin (2004), and others, that allowed me to investigate notions of rock art regions in west Texas and beyond (see, e.g. Hampson 2016a; 2016b).

regions of the world, however, rock art research is still primarily descriptive or simply nihilistic – researchers unhelpfully state or imply that we shall never know the truth about motivations and meanings behind the art. To which we might well respond: ‘if this is the case, why bother to collect data?!’ One thing at least should by now be clear: in order to spur significant heuristic research and arrive at meaningful conclusions, we need to ask meaningful questions. One way of doing this is to start with thorough understandings of the historical research and of the ethnographic literature in a particular region – or indeed with the careful employment of ethnographic analogy. By doing so, we shall continue to learn about –  and indeed from – indigenous ontologies, and how non-Western societies lived, and viewed the world.

As long ago as 1994, David Whitley and Larry Loendorf (1994: xv) wrote that: New fields of inquiry are opening in semiotics, gender studies, and neuropsychology and, in fact, these new explanatory approaches have placed rock art studies at the forefront of hunter-gatherer research.

References Blundell, G. 2004. Nqabayo’s Nomansland: San Rock Art and the Somatic Past. Unpublished PhD dissertation, University of Uppsala. Boas, F. 1927. Primitive Art. New York: Dover. Boyd, C. 2003. Rock Art of the Lower Pecos. College Station, TX: Texas A&M University Press. Breuil, H. 1955. The Rock Paintings Of Southern Africa: Volume 1, The White Lady Of The Brandberg. London: Trianon.

Are rock art studies still at the ‘forefront’ of research? It depends on where in the world we look. In North America –  and indeed in large swathes of southern Africa, Australia, South America, Asia, and Europe, as evidenced in this edited volume – researchers continue to propose and demonstrate the interpretive power of ‘best-fit’ arguments as to why indigenous artists might have created paintings and engravings in specific locations in their landscapes. In other 14

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Archaic Across the Borderlands: From Foraging to Farming: 219–246. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. Meltzer, D. 1979. Paradigms and the nature of change in American archaeology. American Antiquity 44: 644–657. Murray, T. and C. Evans (eds) 2008. Histories of Archaeology. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Peabody, C. 1909. A reconnaissance trip in western Texas. American Anthropologist 11: 202–216. Roberts, T. 2005. Prehistoric ritual destruction of some Lower Pecos River Style pictographs: making meaning out of what we do not see. The Journal of Big Bend Studies 17: 1–35. Robinson, D.W. 2006. Landscape, Taskscape, and Indigenous Perception: Rock-art of South-central California. Unpublished PhD dissertation, University of Cambridge. Schaafsma, P. 1980. Indian Rock Art of the Southwest. Santa Fe, NM: University of New Mexico Press. Schaafsma, P. 2003. Out of the underworld: landscape, kachinas, and pottery metaphors in the Rio Grande/ Jornada rock-art tradition in the American Southwest. Before Farming: the Archaeology and Anthropology of Hunter-Gatherers 2003 (4): 1–11. Schaafsma, P. 2018. Human images and blurring boundaries. The Pueblo body in cosmological context: rock art, murals, and ceremonial figures. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 28 (3): 411–431. Smith, V. 1923. Indian pictographs of the Big Bend in Texas. Publications of the Texas Folklore Society 2: 18–30. Smith, V. 1925. The human hand in primitive art. Publications of the Texas Folklore Society 4: 80–102. Steward, J. 1929. Petroglyphs of California and adjoining states. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 24 (2): 47–238. Trigger, B.G. 1989. A History of Archaeological Thought. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Turpin, S. 1982. Seminole Canyon: The Art and the Archaeology. Austin, TX: Texas Archaeological Survey, University of Texas. Turpin, S. 1994. On a wing and a prayer: Flight metaphors in Pecos River art. In S. Turpin (ed.) Shamanism and Rock Art in North America: 73–102. San Antonio, TX: Rock Art Foundation, Special Publication 1. Whitley, D. 1992. Shamanism and rock art in far western North America. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 2: 89–113. Whitley, D. 2000. The Art of The Shaman; Rock Art of California. Salt Lake City, UT: University of Utah Press. Whitley, D. (ed.) 2001. Handbook of Rock Art Research. Walnut Creek, CA: Altamira. Whitley, D. 2006. Is there a shamanism and rock art debate? Comment on Lewis-Williams’s ‘Shamanism: a contested concept in archaeology’. Before Farming: The Archaeology and Anthropology of Hunter-Gatherers. 2006 (4): Article 7: 1–7.

Driver, H. 1937. Cultural element distributions: VI, southern Sierra Nevada. University of California Anthropological Records 1 (2): 53–154. Fagan, B. 1995. Ancient North America: The Archaeology of a Continent. London: Thames & Hudson. Fowler, D. 1980. History of Great Basin Anthropological Research, 1776–1979. Journal of California and Great Basin Anthropology 2 (1): 8–36. Goodwin, A.J.H. 1953. Method in Prehistory. Cape Town: South African Archaeological Society. Hampson, J. 2016a. Rock Art And Regional Identity: A Comparative Perspective. London: Routledge. Hampson, J. 2016b. Embodiment, transformation and ideology in the rock art of Trans-Pecos Texas. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 26 (2): 217–241. Hampson, J. Forthcoming. Pioneers in West Texas Rock Art Research: The Lasting Influence of Forrest Kirkland and William Newcomb. Hays-Gilpin, K. 2004. Ambiguous Images: Gender and Rock Art. Walnut Creek, CA: Altamira. Heizer, R. 1953. Sacred rain rocks of northern California. Reports of the University of California Archaeological Survey 20: 3–38. Heizer, R. and M. Baumhoff. 1962. Prehistoric Rock Art of Nevada and Eastern California. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Hinsley, C. 1981. Savages and Scientists: The Smithsonian Institution and the Development of American Anthropology 1846–1910. Washington, DC: Smithsonian. Ing, D., S. Smith-Savage, A.W. Cloud and R. Mallouf 1996. Archaeological Reconnaissance on Big Bend Ranch State Park: Presidio and Brewster Counties, Texas, 1988–1994. Alpine, TX: Center for Big Bend Studies, Occasional Papers No. 1. Jackson, A.T. 1938. Picture-Writing of Texas Indians. Austin: University of Texas Publication No. 3809. Kehoe, A. 1998. The Land of Prehistory: A Critical History of American Archaeology. London: Routledge. Kirkland, F. and W. Newcomb. 1967. The Rock Art of Texas Indians. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. Kroeber, A. 1925. Handbook of the Indians of California. Washington, DC: Bureau of American Ethnology, Bulletin 8. Lowrance, M. 1998. A review of rock art research in the Big Bend of Texas, in S. Smith-Savage and R. Mallouf (ed.) Rock art of the Chihuahuan Desert Borderlands: 117–124. Alpine, TX: Center for Big Bend Studies, Occasional Papers No. 3. Mallery, G. 1886. Pictographs of the North American Indians, a Preliminary Paper. Washington, DC: Bureau of American Ethnology, 4th Annual Report, 1882–1883. Mallery, G. 1893. Picture-Writing of the American Indians. Washington, DC: Bureau of American Ethnology, 10th Annual Report, 1888–1889. Mallouf, R. 2005. Late Archaic foragers of eastern TransPecos and the Big Bend, in B. Vierra (ed.) The Late 15

Jamie Hampson Whitley, D. and J. Clottes. 2005. In Steward’s shadow: histories of research in the Far West and western Europe, in L. Loendorf, C. Chippindale and D. Whitley (eds) Discovering North American Rock Art: 161–180. Tucson, AZ: University of Arizona Press. Whitley, D. and L. Loendorf (eds) 1994. New Light on Old Art: Recent Advances in Hunter-Gatherer Rock Art Research. Los Angeles, CA: UCLA Institute of Archaeology Monograph 36.

Willey, G. and P. Phillips. 1958. Method and Theory in American Archaeology. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Willey, G. and J. Sabloff. 1974. A History of American Archaeology. San Francisco, CA: Freeman. Wobst, H.M. 1978. The archaeo-ethnology of huntergatherers or the tyranny of the ethnographic record in archaeology. American Antiquity 43 (2): 303–309.

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Chapter 3

Reclaiming connections: Ethnography, archaeology, and images on stone in the southwestern United States Kelley Hays-Gilpin and Dennis Gilpin Abstract The history of rock art research in the Southwestern United States spans less than two centuries. In this time, relationships have changed between researchers, who are mostly non-Native, and Native Americans, whose ancestors made most of what archaeologists call rock art. Some of the changes have been cyclical rather than linear in that researchers sometimes have listened to what Native people have to say about rock art, and sometimes they have excluded Native voices. Nineteenth century ethnographies show that Native American understandings of rock art are many, varied, and persistent, and early archaeologists recorded rock art as potential data for understanding culture histories. By the 1970s, most archaeologists dismissed rock art as scientifically unknowable, leaving its study to art historians and avocational enthusiasts. Rock art research re-entered mainstream scientific discourse recently, after Native Americans and the general public demanded attention to it. We would do well to re-evaluate and reclaim our late 19th century disciplinary history. Taken together with a deeper understanding of Indigenous ontologies, rock art will become an essential line of evidence for past lifeways.

The history of rock art research in the Southwestern United States spans less than two centuries. In this time, relationships have changed between researchers, who are mostly non-Native, and Native Americans, whose ancestors made most of what archaeologists call rock art. Some of the changes have been cyclical rather than linear in that researchers sometimes have listened

to what Native people have to say about rock art, and sometimes they have excluded Native voices. Todd Bostwick (2005) has already published a thorough review of Southwest rock art research, and we have drawn on his chapter here. We also look to a review of North American rock art research theoretical frameworks by Julie Francis (2005). We focus on relationships between researchers and Native people in our brief overview. Exploratory era Beginning in 1540 Spain sent explorers and colonists to the region that is now Arizona and New Mexico. Spanish journals of exploration and conquest were judgmental and biased about the lifeways and languages of the Native people they encountered, fought, missionised, enslaved, and intermarried with. They said very little about rock art –  one account from 1763 describes removing an image of a lion and marking the place with crosses to exorcise the ‘detestable idolatry’ (Slifer 1998: 86). The United States seized the Southwest from Mexico during the Mexican-American War (1846–1848). From the beginning of US exploration during westward military and colonial expansion, soldiers and scientists noted rock art on the landscape but rarely interpreted

Figure 3.1. William Henry Holmes (1878) illustration of petroglyph panel at Waterflow, New Mexico.

Powerful Pictures (Archaeopress 2022): 17–24

Kelley Hays-Gilpin and Dennis Gilpin it. Lieutenant William Emory, a topographic engineer who accompanied Brigadier General Stephen Watts Kearny’s 1846 invasion force through New Mexico and Arizona, described petroglyphs along the Gila River in 1846 (Emory 1848). Local Cocomaricopa informants evidently told Emory that their ‘medicine men’ used the mound of marked boulders to invoke spirit beings. Another topographical engineer, Lieutenant James H. Simpson, who accompanied Colonel John M. Washington’s 1849 expedition against the Navajos, noted ‘hieroglyphics’ on several boulders in Chaco Canyon (Simpson 2003 [1852]: 40) and recorded rock art at what is now El Morro National Monument, also the site of earlier Spanish inscriptions (Simpson 2003 [1852]: 125, 127, 133–137, Plates 65–74). In 1874 William Henry Holmes, documented some images at the Waterflow site along the San Juan River of northwestern New Mexico during the US exploration and mapping survey of the American West (Figure 3.1). Holmes called the site the ‘Pictured Cliffs’ site, and, as a geologist, he named the formation the Pictured Cliffs sandstone (Holmes 1878).

Likewise, at the Hopi pueblos, ethnographer Alexander Stephen documented petroglyphs and their meanings. For example, shield figures with tally marks recorded battles between Hopi warriors and Ute and Apache raiders (Stephen 1936, Figures 83 and 84). His Smithsonian colleague Jesse Walter Fewkes recorded and excavated numerous archaeological sites and documented petroglyphs and pottery (1892; 1898; 1906; 1912). Fewkes discussed the archaeological record with Hopi men who interpreted both rock art and pottery as deliberate records of clan migrations. Each symbol referred to a specific matrilineal clan that travelled from its place of origin, usually in the Grand Canyon, to their destined homeland on the Hopi Mesas (Fewkes 1900). Most Hopi people today interpret rock art the same way – they have provided consistent oral histories for well over a century. Classificatory era Ethnology and archaeology rubbed along together up to the ‘chronology revolution’ of the 1920s. Many archaeologists then turned their attention to stratigraphy, dendrochronology, and pottery seriation. A.V. Kidder is often called the ‘father of Southwestern archaeology’ because he crafted the first chronological ordering of settlement, architectural, and pottery styles. He also took rock art seriously though never produced any systematic studies of it. From 1914 to 1923 Kidder and his colleague Samuel Guernsey conducted archaeological investigations around Kayenta and Monument Valley in northeastern Arizona with the goal of defining the cultural sequence in the area (Guernsey 1931; Guernsey and Kidder 1921; Kidder and Guernsey 1919). They identified changing styles of rock art from the early Basketmakers through the Cliff-dwellers to the modern Navajos, and their rudimentary understanding of the sequence of rock art styles helped guide their decisions about which sites to excavate. Kidder understood that these images are classifiable. His position was that if you could classify it, it was scientific data (Kidder and Guernsey 1919: 193). Kidder and Guernsey published pictures of rock art in their reports alongside other lines of data (Figure 3.2). If Kidder discussed rock art with his many Navajo and Pueblo workmen, he did not publish their views of it. From the 1920s through the 1970s, few archaeologists took Native views into account, with a few notable exceptions, such as Julian Steward, who mostly worked in California and the Great Basin.

Documentary era Many of the early anthropologists in the Southwestern United States took rock art seriously as historical records and culturally significant symbolic systems. At this time, most research in the region was sponsored by the Bureau of American Ethnology (BAE) at the Smithsonian Institution. The bureau did not make much distinction between ethnologists and archaeologists – many researchers did both. Garrick Mallery published ‘Pictographs of the American Indians’ as a BAE report in 1886 and ‘Picture-writing of the American Indians’ in the same series in 1893. He included some Southwestern sites, but his scope was broad – the entire continent, and his focus was narrow. Rock art was for him a form of writing or pictorial language, a conclusion that seems generalised from very little ethnographic evidence. Matilda Coxe Stevenson of the BAE investigated religion at the Pueblo of Zuni in the 1880s. She recorded what Zuni women had to say about a petroglyph site as a place for fertility rituals (Stevenson 1904: 294, Plate 12). At that time, Zuni people who shared their knowledge with her, and other anthropologists, had no idea that information and photographs would be shared with the world. Zuni people today request that photos and detailed information about this site not be re-published, but this example clearly demonstrates that these marks on rocks were functional, deeply meaningful, and an integral part of ritual practice for the community. Rock art was not idle doodling as some later archaeologists claimed.

Several, but not many, mid-century archaeologists took rock art seriously as a line of evidence that could be fit into culture histories. In the 1920s, Emil Haury recorded rock art Painted Cave in the Four Corners region. He wrote, ‘Systematic study 18

Reclaiming connections

Figure 3.2. Kidder and Guernsey (1919) illustrated examples of mountain sheep from different sites in the Kayenta, Arizona, region to show the range of variation of this iconic figure.

of Southwestern pictography should yield categories which may eventually assist in clearing up the cultural and temporal problems obviously linked with it’ (Haury 1945: 64). He did not mention any Native American perspectives.

rock art (Figure 3.3). In one case, she noted that local Navajos knew that a man named ‘Little Sheep’ had painted the naturalistic animals at the Antelope House site in the early 1800s (Morris 1933: 213–214). Other than noting that Little Sheep had been a healer, she did not explain motivations or meaning of the images. Agnes Sims recorded more than 3000 petroglyphs at a dozen or more sites in the Northern Rio Grande area within 40 miles of Santa Fe, New Mexico, documenting the images through photography and woodcuts (Sims 1949: 1963). She identified figures with present-day Pueblo deities and ceremonies (Figure 3.4) but did not report conversations with Pueblo people. Rather she cast herself as the expert identifying the images.

Frank H. H. Roberts worked at the Village of the Great Kivas, near the Pueblo of Zuni in the 1930s (Roberts 1932). His research focused on culture history, and he recorded petroglyphs at the site (Roberts 1932: 149–152, Plates 61–63). He interviewed Zunis about the images and proposed that some were created ‘to pass away the time’ (Roberts 1932: 150) and others referred to Zuni oral traditions (Roberts 1932: 150–152). Yet he did not comment on his own workmen making elaborate paintings of ritual dancers near the site (Young 1988: 245–246, Figures 69 and 70).

One notable exception to the waning use of ethnography in the age of culture history was the dynamic duo of Harold Colton, a biologist and archaeologist, and Mary-Russell Ferrell Colton, an artist, who founded the Museum of Northern Arizona in Flagstaff. From the beginning, they forged strong relationships with local tribes, particularly Hopi artists. They drew on Hopi history and ethnography to interpret Tutuveni (Willow Springs). They classified images by comparing

Ann Axtell Morris and Agnes Sims were artists who recorded rock art for its own sake even as they recognised the historical value of the data they were recording. Ann Morris often escaped the tedium of her husband’s excavation in dusty caves in Canyon de Chelly, and her job of cataloging the artifacts, by recording

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Kelley Hays-Gilpin and Dennis Gilpin

Figure 3.3. Watercolour painting by Ann Axtell Morris of Pictograph Cave in Canyon de Chelly, Arizona, circa 1923–1927. (American Museum of Natural History)

Figure 3.4. Artist Agnes Sims (1949) created woodcuts illustrating petroglyphs at fourteenth- to seventeenth-century pueblos in the Galisteo Basin near Santa Fe, New Mexico, and compared them to personages that still appear in Hopi and Zuni ceremonies. She posited that the similarities between the petroglyphs and the ceremonial personages confirmed traditional accounts of a migration from the Galisteo Basin to the Hopi Mesas.

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petroglyphs to clan symbols used as signatures in historic documents, and recorded Hopi oral history about their salt pilgrimage to the Grand Canyon and the clan ‘signatures’ that men carved in the rocks at this site along the way (Colton 1946; 1960; Colton and Colton 1931).

decades, Schaafsma has incorporated ethnographic sources in her rock art research (Schaafsma 2000). The ‘New Archaeology’ By the 1970s, most archaeologists dismissed rock art as scientifically unknowable, leaving its study to art historians and avocational enthusiasts. Focus shifted to chronometric dating, and rock art was thought to be intractable, even whimsical. In many cases, aligning archaeology with ‘science’ meant emphasising changes in Native cultures, and denying continuities.

In the 1960s, Christy Turner and Polly Schaafsma produced some of the first systematic documentations of rock art in the context of ‘salvage archaeology’. Working on the Glen Canyon/Lake Powell Reservoir (Turner 1963) and the Navajo Reservoir (Schaafsma 1963) projects, they classified rock art styles and incorporated rock art into culture histories. After producing foundational reports, Turner dropped rock art to study bones and teeth, but Schaafsma continued (Schaafsma 1972; 1980; 1992). Originally trained as an artist, Schaafsma became, and still serves as, the most prominent rock art researcher in the Southwest. Schaafsma demonstrated how archaeologists (and art historians) can identify different design styles, and associate styles with successive time periods, and with archaeological and ethnographic culture areas. In recent

Outside archaeology M. Jane Young completed a dissertation on Zuni rock art that was published in 1988. She interviewed and quoted Zuni consultants and discussed what rock art means to Zuni people today –  messages from ancestors to descendants. She is not an archaeologist, but a specialist in ‘American Studies’, an interdisciplinary field. In the 1970s to the present, more Southwest rock art work is done by avocationalists and researchers with training

Figure 3.5. Harold S. and Mary-Russell Ferrell Colton noted similarities between petroglyphs at the Willow Springs, Arizona, site and Hopi use of clan signatures on historic legal documents (Colton 1946; Colton and Colton 1931). Drawing on the Coltons’ work and the geographic distribution of similar glyphs across northern Arizona, Wesley Bernardini (2005) mapped clan migration routes.

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Kelley Hays-Gilpin and Dennis Gilpin in other fields (such as art history and astronomy) than by professional archaeologists, though this is starting to change.

oral history and migration, in collaboration with the Hopi Cultural Preservation Office (Figure 3.5). The Hopi community is especially interested in rock art, identified locally as ‘migration footprints’. The Hopi interest in rock art sparked the research team’s emphasis on it, not the other way around.

Rock art studies come of age In much of North America, the neuropsychological model (Lewis-Williams and Dowson 1988; 1989) has revitalised interest in rock art ethnography but altered states of consciousness only help explain the earlier hunter-gatherer rock art in the Southwest. Most Native cultures in the Southwest comprised farming villages, and much of their imagery could be described as totemic rather than shamanic, though of course it is more complicated than that. Some imagery likely originated in sodalities, or ‘secret societies’, and meanings are not shared with outsiders even today. Approaches that aim to decode the meanings of rock art are thus somewhat limited by lack of information shared with outsiders.

Early ethnographies show that Native American understandings of rock art are many, varied, and persistent. We would do well to re-evaluate and reclaim our late 19th century disciplinary history. Taken together with a deeper understanding of Indigenous ontologies (Hays-Gilpin 2019), we forecast that rock art will become an essential line of evidence for past lifeways. Some implications We are already seeing some results of collaboration between Native community members and archaeologists, including archaeologists who themselves belong to Native communities. First, rock art is no longer an afterthought, something to be recorded when there is time (or, as Frank Roberts (1932: 150) put it, ‘to pass away the time’). Documentation and protection are high priorities. Second, the term ‘rock art’ may fade in favor of terms that are closer to translations of indigenous terms: writing on stone, rock writings, images on stone, storied rocks, or footprint marks (a Hopi reference to migration footprints). Third, rock art studies articulate particularly well with landscape-scale studies, and incorporation of traditional ecological knowledge into land management frameworks as well as archaeological research. Fourth, study of the cultural meanings and roles of rock art can help archaeologists and other researchers and managers come to grips with indigenous ontologies. Because images on stone so clearly link past and present, and link people to places, they can help us understand that relationships are more important than categories, that place can be more important than time, and that rocks and the images on them are –  in their own way –  just as alive as plants, animals, and people.

Collaborative research Rock art research re-entered mainstream scientific discourse recently, after Native Americans and the general public demanded attention to it. Human rights movements across the world have created opportunities for Indigenous communities to express their interests and priorities. In the US, the 1990 Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act and 1994 American Indian Religious Freedom Act were especially influential in bringing Native voices into museums, archaeological practice, and public lands management. In most natural and cultural resource management planning projects, we have noticed that non-Native archaeologists still focus on chronology, architecture, and site function, but Native American participants look to images on stone as direct records of migration, habitation, resource use areas, teachings, and spiritual connections that transcend time. They often focus on communicating to outsiders the importance of imagery and places, without actually decoding or revealing esoteric layers of meaning of the imagery. At Petroglyph National Monument, established in 1990, the National Park Service encouraged Pueblo involvement in interpretation and management. Pueblo people of the Rio Grande Valley stepped up in response to threat of a road crossing the monument – at great risk to their traditional system of proprietary ritual knowledge, they provided a great deal of cultural information in an effort to demonstrate the significance of the imagery and its natural setting (Huser 1998).

References Bernardini, W. 2005. Hopi Oral Tradition and the Archaeology of Identity. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Bernardini, W. 2007. Hopi History in Stone: The Tutuveni Petroglyph Site (Arizona State Museum Archaeological Series No. 200). Tucson: Arizona State Museum, University of Arizona. Bostwick, T.W. 2005. Rock art research in the American Southwest, in, L.L. Loendorf, C. Chippindale and D.S. Whitley (eds) Discovering North American Rock Art: 51–92. Tucson: University of Arizona Press.

Wesley Bernardini’s dissertation work and subsequent decade-long dedication to comprehensive study of archaeological sites on Hopi land is an exemplary case (Bernardini 2005; 2007). Bernardini combines 22

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Colton, H.S. 1946. Fools names like fools faces. Plateau 19 (1): 1–8. Colton, H.S. 1960. Black Sand. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Colton, M. R. Ferrell and H.S. Colton 1931. Petroglyphs, the record of a great adventure. American Anthropologist 33 (1): 32–35. Emory, W.H. 1848. Notes of a Military Reconnoissance [sic] from Fort Leavenworth, in Missouri, to San Diego, in California, Including Part of the Arkansas, Del Norte, and Gila Rivers. Washington (DC): United States Army Corps of Topographical Engineers, Wendell and Benthuysen Printers. Emory, W.H. [1848] 1951. Lieutenant Emory Reports: A Reprint of Lieutenant W. H. Emory’s Notes of a Military Reconnoissance [sic]. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Fewkes, J.W. 1892. A few Tusayan pictographs. American Anthropologist 5 (1): 9–26. Fewkes, J.W. 1898. Preliminary account of an expedition to the Pueblo ruins near Winslow, Arizona, in Annual Report of the Smithsonian Institution for 1896: 517–539. Washington (DC): Smithsonian Institution. Fewkes, J.W. 1900. Tusayan Migration Traditions, in Nineteenth Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology for the Years 1897-1898, Part 2: 573–634. Washington (DC): Government Printing Office. Fewkes, J.W. 1906. Hopi Shrines near the East Mesa, Arizona. American Anthropologist 8 (2): 346–375. Francis, J. 2005. Pictographs, petroglyphs, and paradigms: Rock art in North American archaeology, in L.L. Loendorf, C. Chippindale and D.S. Whitley (eds), Discovering North American Rock Art: 181–195. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Guernsey, S.J. 1931. Explorations in Northeastern Arizona: Report on the Archaeological Fieldwork of 1920-1923 (Papers of the Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University Vol 12 No 1). Cambridge (MA): Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University. Guernsey, S.J. and A.V. Kidder 1921. Basket-maker Caves of Northeastern Arizona: Report on the Explorations, 1916-17 (Papers of the Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University Vol 8 No 2). Cambridge (MA): Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University. Haury, E.W. 1945. Painted Cave, Northeastern Arizona (Medallion Papers No. 3). Dragoon (AZ): Arizona Amerind Foundation. Hays-Gilpin, K. 2019. We are all connected: Rock art ontologies in the Southwestern U.S. Time and Mind 12 (2): 95–107. Holmes, W.H. 1878. Report on the Ancient Ruins of Southwestern Colorado, Examined during the Summers of 1875 and 1876, in F.V. Hayden, Tenth Annual Report of the United States Geological and

Geographical Survey of the Territories, Embracing Colorado and Parts of Adjacent States; Being a Report of Progress of the Exploration for the Year 1876: 381–408. Washington (DC): U.S. Government Printing Office. Huser, V. (ed.) 1998. Voices from a Sacred Place: In Defense of Petroglyph National Monument. Albuquerque and Berkeley: Friends of the Albuquerque Petroglyphs, Sacred Sites International. Kidder, A.V. and S.J. Guernsey 1919. Archeological Explorations in Northeastern Arizona (Smithsonian Institution, Bureau of American Ethnology, Bulletin 65). Washington (DC): U.S. Government Printing Office. Lewis-Williams, J.D. and T.A. Dowson 1988. The signs of all times: Entoptic phenomena in Upper Paleolithic art. Current Anthropology 29 (2): 201–245. Lewis-Williams, J.D. and T.A. Dowson 1989. Images of Power: Understanding Bushman Rock Art. Johannesburg: Southern Book Publishers. Mallery, G. 1886. Pictographs of the American Indians, in Fourth Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology for the Years 1882-1883: 3–256. Washington (DC): U.S. Government Printing Office. Mallery, G. 1893. Picture-writing of the American Indians, in Tenth Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology for the Years 1888-1889: 3–807. Washington (DC): U.S. Government Printing Office. Morris, A.A. 1933. Digging in the Southwest. Chicago: Cadmus Books, E. M. Hale and Co. Roberts, F.H.H. Jr. 1932. The Village of the Great Kivas on the Zuñi Reservation, New Mexico (Smithsonian Institution, Bureau of American Ethnology, Bulletin 111). Washington (DC): U.S. Government Printing Office. Schaafsma, P. 1963. Rock Art of the Navajo Reservoir District (Museum of New Mexico Papers in Anthropology No. 7). Santa Fe: Museum of New Mexico Press. Schaafsma, P. 1972. Rock Art in New Mexico. Santa Fe: State Planning Office. (Reprinted 1975, Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press) Schaafsma, P. 1980. Indian Rock Art of the Southwest. Santa Fe and Albuquerque: School of American Research, University of New Mexico Press. Schaafsma, P. 1992. Rock Art in New Mexico (revised edition). Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Schaafsma, P. 2000. Warrior, Shield, and Star: Imagery and Ideology of Pueblo Warfare. Santa Fe: Western Edge Press. Simpson, J.H. [1852] 2003. Navaho Expedition: Journal of a Military Reconnaissance from Santa Fe, New Mexico, to the Navaho Country, Made in 1849 by Lieutenant James H. Simpson, edited and annotated by Frank McNitt (Red River Books Edition). Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Sims, A.C. 1949. Migration story in stone. El Palacio 56 (3): 67–76. Sims, A.C. 1963. Rock Carvings: A Record of Folk History, in B.P. Dutton (ed.), Sun Father’s Way: The Kiva Murals 23

Kelley Hays-Gilpin and Dennis Gilpin of Kuaua: 215–220. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Slifer, D. 1998. Signs of Life: Rock Art of the Upper Rio Grande. Santa Fe: Ancient City Press. Stephen, A.M. 1936. Hopi Journal of Alexander M. Stephen, in E.C. Parsons (ed.), Columbia Contributions to Anthropology 23. New York: Columbia University Press. Stevenson, M.C. 1904. The Zuñi Indians: Their mythology, esoteric fraternities, and ceremonies, in Twenty-Third Annual Report of the Bureau of American

Ethnology for the Years 1901-1902: 3–634. Washington (DC): U.S. Government Printing Office. Turner, C.G.II. 1963. Petrographs of the Glen Canyon Region: Styles, Chronology, Distributions and Relationships from Basketmaker to Navajo (Museum of Northern Arizona Bulletin 38, Glen Canyon Series No. 4). Flagstaff: Northern Arizona Society of Science and Art. Young, J. 1988. Signs from the Ancestors: Zuni Cultural Symbolism and Perceptions of Rock Art. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press.

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Chapter 4

Rock art, landscapes and materiality in the Canadian Shield Dagmara Zawadzka Abstract Places and landscapes are crucial for understanding rock art’s significance for its makers and users. However, the contextual approach to rock art has long been overshadowed by a preponderance of studies dedicated to images and their meanings. The material properties of the place influence and shape human experiences and meanings of rock art and landscapes. The interconnection between art, place and the wider landscape context allows for rock art to emerge as an agent that structures social relationships, memories and identities. In the Canadian Shield, the importance of places began to be fully explored in the 1970s, notably with the work of Joan Vastokas and Brian Molyneaux. Their pioneering work based on insights from ethnohistory, ethnography, oral traditions, art history and experience at the sites opened up the study of sacred landscapes and materiality of rock art at a time when mainstream Canadian archaeology was not exploring these issues. This paper will demonstrate that though rock art remains poorly incorporated into regional archaeological studies, its research has contributed to the advancement of landscape archaeology, as well as to understandings of materiality in relation to Indigenous animic worldviews.

The sensuous properties of the material world have a bearing on shaping human experiences of being and becoming, on social relations and on human actions while they influence and contribute to the emergence of stories, memories, ideologies and beliefs. Materiality of places and things implies a situated experience where the world’s material properties have an impact on relations that emerge between humans, things and places (e.g. Knapett 2014; Meskell 2005; Tilley 2004). A landscape is ‘the world as it is known to those who dwell therein, who inhabit its places and journey along the paths connecting them’ (Ingold 1993: 156). The materiality of landscapes entails a ‘dwelling perspective’ which stipulates that landscapes are not cultural constructs that are created in human minds and inscribed onto neutral nature. Rather, they are socially meaningful and cannot be divorced from those who inhabit them, since both constitute each other in the process of life unfolding (Ingold 2000). Immersion within the material dimension of places and pathways (rocks, trees, architecture, scents, sounds, weather…), replete with affordances, creates experiences that invite or constrain action, thought and relations (Ingold 2000; Tilley and Cameron-Daum 2017: 4–6).

Powerful Pictures (Archaeopress 2022): 25–36

Worldwide studies have demonstrated the importance of places and landscapes for understanding the significance of rock art for its makers and their descendants. The landscape context includes the place and its associated physical particularities, stories, toponyms and cultural practices; the place’s location within the larger network of other rock art sites, culturally significant places (habitation sites, ceremonial sites, hunting camps…), and routes that connect them all (e.g. Bradley 1997; Chippindale and Nash 2004; Gillette et al. 2014). Engaging materially with rock art in its landscape context means weaving together the images, the properties of the rock outcrop or cave (e.g. geomorphology, cliff height, shape, colour), visual and acoustic properties of the site (e.g. echoes, play of light and shadows) and the site’s placement in relation to other sites of cultural importance and pathways as all of these had a bearing on experiencing rock art, and on the associated ceremonial performances conducted, on stories, memories and the wider understanding of the landscape (e.g. Goldhahn 2002; Lahelma 2010; Tilley 2004: 147–215; Zawadzka 2008). The physical dimension of rock art coupled with insights from Indigenous ontologies or worldviews (e.g. Descola [2005] 2013; Hallowell [1960] 1976; Ingold 2006) has the potential to further shed light on the material importance of rock art, help ground the immaterial (beliefs, stories) in the material and reveal their inextricable connection. It also shifts the emphasis from the meaning of images, itself an often problematic endeavour, to the ontology of the rock art images, exploring their animate status, what the process of their production accomplished, and how these images could act and influence (e.g. Arnett 2016; Jones 2017; Norder 2012a; Zawadzka 2016). Rock art studies have been neglected for a long time within North American archaeology because of the difficulties associated with rock art’s dating, ascription to particular cultures, perceived lack of ethnographic sources and the difficulty of elucidating religious phenomena which collectively undermined rock art’s contributions to knowledge about past cultures (Whitley 2001: 12–17). This trend has also been observed in the Canadian Shield where rock art tends to be poorly incorporated into regional archaeological studies (Molyneaux 1981: 9). Like most worldwide studies, images were of primary concern

Dagmara Zawadzka in the Canadian Shield and they were studied as bearers of meanings that contain clues to past beliefs (e.g. Rajnovich 1994). Globally, the winds of change began to blow in the 1980s, with the rise of contextual archaeology that led to explorations of the cosmological and symbolic importance of landscapes. The realisation that landscapes are not inert neutral spaces for human activities emerged among others because of the greater recognition of Indigenous people and of their landscape perceptions within the discipline (David and Thomas 2008: 35–36) and the recognition of the significance of natural places (e.g. Bradley 2000). The incorporation of ideas developed by, among others, phenomenological philosophers (e.g. Merleau-Ponty [1945] 2008) and cultural geographers (Tuan [1977] 2007) has also helped to redefine the notion of landscape and how it is studied (Tilley 1994). The spiritual dimension of landscapes has been popular (David and Thomas 2008: 36; e.g. Carmichael et al. 1994) and most often applied to rock art studies (e.g. Gillette et al. 2014; Rozwadowski 2017) where the placement of the sites and their physical characteristics are especially linked with shamanism and are interpreted as embedded in the spiritual lives of the peoples who made and consumed rock art. The landscape context has reinvigorated rock art studies and concomitantly rock art studies have contributed to better understandings of landscapes and the human engagement with their environments.

The Canadian Shield, shaped like a horseshoe, stretches roughly from Labrador to northeastern Alberta and from the Arctic Archipelago to northern Minnesota and Wisconsin. It is home to at least 800 pictograph sites and roughly 30 petroglyph sites though this number is skewed due to past scholarly interest and anthropic activities that led to destruction of sites (e.g. flooding due to hydro-electric dams). Rock art was created by the Algonquian-speaking peoples, such as the Anishinaabeg (Ojibwa, Algonquin), Innu and Nehiyawak (Cree). Pictographs painted with red ochre with fingers and brushes are located on vertical cliffs along rivers and lakes though rare examples on boulders and in caves are also known (e.g. Molyneaux 1987; Zawadzka 2016: 412). Petroglyphs created by pecking, abrading and/ or incising the rock surface are located on rock outcrops near water or deep within the forest (e.g. Vastokas and Vasotkas 1973; Zawadzka 2016: 255, 551–552). Depictions include anthropomorphs, zoomorphs, powerful beings (otherthan-human persons), items of material culture, hands and the so-called abstractions that include lines, indeterminate and geometric figures (e.g. Dewdney and Kidd 1967: 18). The age of rock art has been especially deduced from ethnohistorical sources, ethnographic inquiries, comparisons with other decorated objects of material culture, subject matter analysis and association with archaeological remains (e.g. Jones [1981] 2006: 62–69; Rajnovich 1994). Images were made in the post-contact period, however some researchers argue for an antiquity of 2,000 years based on proximity to archaeological sites of the Middle Woodland period (1,000 BCE – 1,000 CE) (Rajnovich 1994: 46–49).

This paper examines how the experiences of landscapes and their material properties were explored in Canadian Shield rock art research. It concentrates on the early forays that were cutting-edge within Canadian archaeology in the 1970s and 1980s by scholars such as Joan Vastokas and Brian Molyneaux who discussed the importance of the physical properties of rock art sites, their interrelation with the images and how engaging with them (production, consumption) helped shape relationships between humans, other-than-human persons and places. These researchers were also among the pioneers exploring the concept of the ‘sacred landscape’ at a time when landscapes’ symbolic and cosmological aspects were neglected. This paper will begin by introducing Canadian Shield rock art. This will be followed by a discussion of early studies of rock art and landscapes. It will then contextualise these studies within Canadian archaeology. Ultimately, these early forays into art, place and spirituality, despite being ahead of their times, did little to influence Canadian archaeology. Canadian Shield rock art

Canadian Shield rock art is a multifunctional phenomenon that transcends the sacred realm. It was made by medicine men and vision questing youth. It is also associated with the maymaygwaysiwuk, otherthan-human beings who live within cliffs on water (e.g. Dewdney and Kidd 1967: 13–14, 22; Jones [1981] 2006: 76–77). The images are depictions of dream visions, future events and sympathetic magic and they convey various teachings within the landscape that affirm the cultural, political and historical ties of peoples to their territories (Jones 1979: 87–88; Norder 2012a; Twance 2017). Rock art was also implicated in the navigation of the extensive water network, it helped exchange information in the landscape and rock art places were nodes where relationships were cultivated between places, peoples and other-than-human persons (Norder 2003; 2012b; Zawadzka 2013; 2016).

The typical landscape of the vast physiographic region known as the Canadian Shield consists of vast expanses of boreal forests, muskeg (bogs) and rock outcrops among which meanders a labyrinth of rivers and lakes.

Canadian Shield rock art was created and experienced within an animic universe. Within this worldview, humans are embedded in a network of relations with other humans and other living entities such as animals, 26

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plants and other-than-human persons (e.g. Hallowell [1960] 1976). Animacy and personhood emerge through relations, and agency, the capacity to act and influence can extend to places and objects (e.g. Zedeño 2009). Rock art’s animacy and agency dwell in the images, the place and in the important landscape features with which the sites are/ were associated (Zawadzka 2016). The physical properties of the sites such as the height and shape of the cliff, the characteristics of the rock surface (cracks, quartz veins or calcite/silica precipitate deposits), visual and acoustic phenomena at the sites and the presence of nearby effigy formations, rapids, waterfalls or other sites associated with or that are other-than-human persons participate in the relational process. They can evoke and embody the presence of other-than-human persons and ancestors, facilitate communication with these beings and forces and incite and nurture a multitude of encounters between various humans and other-than-human persons (Arsenault and Zawadzka 2014; Zawadzka 2008; 2016). This intrinsic importance of the material properties of rock art sites is well-recognised today and it is most often discussed in the context of sacred landscape (e.g. Allen et al. 2013; Arsenault 2004; Lemaitre 2013; Zawadzka 2008). Yet, this recognition has deep roots that were planted by researchers over fifty years ago.

1977: 19, 62). Rock art was largely ignored in the first half of the twentieth century. The lack of interest for the Canadian Shield region (see below) and difficulties associated with dating and establishing cultural affiliation were potent deterrents to its study (Whitley 2001: 13–14). Only sporadic scholarly reports describing the location, cultural affiliation and image content were created (e.g. Sweetman 1955). Canadian Shield rock art studies fully emerged in the era of Processual archaeology or New Archaeology (1960s-1970s), a theoretical approach, which emphasised evolutionary adaptation and scientific objectivity in archaeological studies as it sought to explain human behaviour through universal laws. This approach led to the neglect of symbolism, religion, and of the social and political institutions of cultures which were perceived as too difficult to infer from the archaeological record (Hawkes 1954). Religion was envisioned as the irrational expression of human behaviour and since rock art largely fell under the umbrella of religious expression, it was ignored by most archaeologists. Rock art research was reinvigorated in the 1950s by Selwyn Dewdney (1909-1979), an artist, teacher, writer and amateur rock art researcher affiliated with Toronto’s Royal Ontario Museum. Dewdney recorded close to 300 rock art sites in Canada as he sought to understand this cultural practice by carrying out ethnographic work among Indigenous people. The 1960s and 1970s were a fertile period for rock art research as sites were intensively recorded and typologies and styles were elaborated (e.g. Dewdney and Kidd 1967; Steinbring 1978). Researchers were also trying to elucidate the meaning behind images aided by ethnographic and ethnohistorical inquiries and insights into the Midewiwin (a spiritual society) pictography.

History of rock art and landscape research in the Canadian Shield Studies of Canadian Shield rock art were initiated in the nineteenth century. Initially, rock art was viewed as a system of communication, a hypothetical stage in the development of writing, hence it was referred to as ‘picture-writing’ (e.g. Boyle 1896: 44; 65; Mallery 1893; Schoolcraft 1851-1857). Diverging from Western aesthetic ideals, rock art was not perceived as art. Instead, as a precursor to writing or a record of ancient religions, its forms were classified (Molyneaux 1977: 25). This philological and formalist approach left little place for the exploration of rock art’s landscape context (Molyneaux 1977). However, the ethnologist and antiquarian Henry Schoolcraft recorded some information regarding Indigenous perceptions of landscape. Influenced by nineteenth century Romantic ideas of sublime Nature, and steeped in the nineteenth century trend of discussing sacred space in relation to ‘primitive religions’ (Molyneaux 1977: 19), he described natural places endowed with spiritual powers as ‘temples not made with hands’ (Schoolcraft 1851-1857: 1, 50). However, images were of primary concern and even Mallery’s (1893: 776) call for the recording of information such as the ‘direction of the face of the rock; the presence of probable trails and gaps which may have been used in shortening distances in travel; localities of mounds and caves […], ‘ eschewed any symbolic or meaningful implications (Molyneaux

As the ‘pictograph fever’ (Dewdney 1979: 2) rose, researchers began to increasingly notice that place and the landscape context were important and had a bearing on the creation of rock art. These early forays were spurred by closer examination of the interplay of the images with the rock surface and by phenomenologically-inclined observations of the connection between rock art and the landscape. Dewdney (1958: 21) wrote: [o]n most sites the artist pays no attention to the background he paints on. On one Agnes Lake site [Quetico Provincial Park, northwestern Ontario], for instance, the background consists of strongly contrasting bands of gneissic rock against which the painting can scarcely be seen. In three other cases, drawings run across cracks or other flaws that could have been avoided. Here, however, the ‘net’ that surrounds the sturgeon appears to 27

Dagmara Zawadzka emerge from, and disappear into, a deep vertical crevice in a very deliberate way. Dewdney strove to be empirical and was reluctant to fully give into his observations. He did state that in general there was no ‘concern for […] the nature of the painting surface’ (Dewdney and Kidd 1967: 16–17). Yet when speaking of the Picture Rock Island site in the Lake of the Woods region, Dewdney (1971: 4) considered it a place where a shaman could dream, as suggested by its location, its broad vista, and the ‘manito feel’ which he experienced with ‘shameless subjectivity.’ He further added, ‘I know of no rock face with such massive elegance. Streaked with white lime precipitate, and the black or blue-green algae, against which the pictographs appear, the glacially-smoothed granite wall literally leaps into the sky in a great vaulting curve’ (Dewdney 1971: 4). Another early observation was made in Manitoba at the Wisakichak’s Footprints site where two horizontal lines have been painted over depressions in the rock considered to be the footprints left by the Cree culture-hero. Steinbring et al. (1969: 14) remarked that ‘[t]his pictograph site is different from almost any other known Shield rock painting site, in that the structure of the bedrock [is] closely related to the paintings and to the act of placing paintings on the rock surface.’

Figure 4.1. Female figure at the Peterborough Petroglyhs, Ontario. Tracing by Dagmara Zawadzka after Vastokas and Vastokas 1973, plate 13.

An in-depth examination of rock art in the context of Algonquian culture and of its landscape context was first carried out by Joan and Romas Vastokas (1973) in their comprehensive study of the Peterborough Petroglyphs/ Kinoomaagewaabkong (The Teaching Rocks) in Ontario. The authors postulated a connection between the images and the crystalline limestone bedrock on which they were carved by situating the site in the context of Algonquian oral traditions that speak of an animate landscape inhabited with manitous. The authors stated that ‘[b]oulders, rocky hills, and outcroppings with unusual dimensions or character, such as clefts, holes, or crevices, were especially charged with manitou and often conceived as the dwelling-places of mythological creatures’ (Vastokas and Vastokas 1973: 48). The authors went on to describe the bedrock as ‘sloping gently towards the sunrise’ and being intersected by a multitude of fissures and cracks of various sizes and depths (Vastokas and Vastokas 1973: 49). From the deepest, the sound of an underground stream could be heard. The seams and fissures also determined the placement of the images as the rock surface was incorporated into the art. The most notable example is that of a large female figure intersected by a red mineral seam and cavities evocative of a womb (Figure 4.1) (Vastokas and Vastokas 1973: 50-51, 80, 139). The authors suggested that ‘this image was no doubt directly inspired by the crevices and the red ream [sic] and, perhaps, the female

itself was seen as pre-existent at the site’ (Vastokas and Vastokas 1973: 80). An important contribution was the recognition that meaningful Indigenous landscapes reveal themselves to humans. The authors stated that ‘ [i]t is these unusual natural formations that might have prompted the initial selection of this site as uncanny, strange, awesome, and hence charged with manitou, perhaps even the voice of manitou manifested in the trickling sounds of the hidden water [underground stream]’ (Vastokas and Vastokas 1973: 49). The site was interpreted as a ‘microcosm… the middle-point, the meeting place of earth and sky’ where the crevices were portals to other layers of the universe (Vastokas and Vastokas 1973: 53) and as forming a whole with the surrounding landscape (Vastokas and Vastokas 1973: 141). The Vastokas’ study was inspired by Rudolf Ottos’s insights on the religious experience of the ‘numinous,’ Mircea Eliade’s studies of shamanism and especially, a thorough reading of the ethnohistorical and ethnographic sources on Algonquian spirituality and perceptions of landscapes. Brian Molyneaux, a former student of Joan Vastokas, also championed the notion that rock art is part of a sacred landscape by relying on the physical evidence at the sites, as well as incorporating ethnohistoric 28

Rock art, landscapes and materiality in the Canadian Shield

evidence and Indigenous perceptions of landscape and beliefs into his studies (Molyneaux 1980; 1983; 1987). Molyneaux’ description of the concept of sacred landscape is among the first ones in Canadian archaeology:

it becomes the profile of a large fish-like form, with a natural crease in the rock clearly defining the mouth. At Nett Lake in Minnesota, there is a petroglyph site located on an island with one peculiar feature. When one walks on the polished rock it gives out a drum like sound. These special places, distinct in their environment, may be interpreted as part of a larger tradition of beliefs and rituals concerning what might be called the sacred landscape (Molyneaux 1980: 10).

When rock art is viewed within the context of the surrounding landscape, it becomes evident that many of the sites are associated with unusual or striking rock features: massive cliffs, large crevices or cavities, prominent overhangs, or strangely glaciated or weathered surfaces. Like the painted circle in the rock cavity on Cuttle Lake [Ontario], or a snake depicted at the entrance of a large crevice, some natural features have been clearly perceived by the artist and incorporated into the art. At other sites the association may be more subtle. On Lake of the Woods there is a painting site situated on a rock that owning to its dark colour appears to be entirely unsuited for the equally dark paintings that are barely visible on its surface. When the rock is viewed from a different angle, however,

Since the 1970s, researchers paid increasingly attention to the landscape context of rock art sites and its interplay with the images. Elements of the rock face, such as quartz veins, cracks, and washes of white patina were observed (e.g. Conway 1989; Steinbring 1987: 5, 7) (Figure 4.2). Other elements observed at rock art sites or in their vicinity were ledges and caves that could be used for fasting and effigy formations (e.g. Conway and Conway 1989: 54–55; Steinbring 1987: 11). The presence of acoustic properties (echoes, sound amplification) was also noted (e.g. Pelshea 1980: 54). Archaeologists increasingly inquired about the landscape context

Figure 4.2. Images at the Kennedy Island site in Ontario painted over quartz veins. Photo by Dagmara Zawadzka.

29

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Figure 4.3. Effigy formations known as Grandmother and Grandfather Rocks near the Mystery Rock Pictograph site on Lake Obabika, Ontario. Photo by Dagmara Zawadzka.

of rock art sites and consultation with Indigenous people indicated that sites occupied special locations propitious for communication with other-than human persons and that the landscape itself was charged with powerful meanings (e.g. Conway and Conway 1989: 54– 55) (Figure 4.3).

preconceptions of what is ‘art’ and what is the ‘art of non-Western and ancient cultures.’ Art as a concept is problematic and it is debated in Anthropology and in Art History (e.g. Danto 2013; Gell 1998). However, it is widely believed that Western art is contextuallyisolated, secular, non-utilitarian and concerned with the aesthetic dimension (a view that emerged in the eighteenth century [Shiner 2001]), while non-Western and ancient arts are perceived as utilitarian and sacred (Herva and Ikäheimo 2002; Vastokas 1992). This led to rock art interpretations strictly steeped in the sacred, though this view has now been challenged (e.g. Norder 2003; Zawadzka 2016). However, there is another consequence of this reductionist view of art. Western Modern art has been treating art works as isolated

Though contextual archaeology prompted archaeologists to examine the physical context of rock art sites, the question of how these images are conceived also warrants an examination. Archaeologists who viewed rock art as ‘picture writing’ (e.g. Rajnovich 1994: 10) emphasised the study of the images’ meanings. Researchers who did consider rock art as ‘art’ were however adopting and projecting western 30

Rock art, landscapes and materiality in the Canadian Shield

objects, removed from ‘social life and the surrounding natural environment,’ hence their experiential dimension has been ignored (Vastokas 1992: 16–17). This can explain, for example, Dewdney’s reluctance to discuss the materiality of place. This isolating view is truly incompatible with Indigenous North American arts, and rock art, where experience and acts associated with art are crucial for their understanding and their fulfillment. It is something that Vastokas, as an art historian studying traditional Indigenous arts recognised (Vastokas 1992).

later. In the case of northern Ontario, for example, practically no research was done prior to 1940’s and it was only ‘after the expansion of the university system in the mid-1960’s and the direct entry of the provincial government into archaeological fieldwork in the 1970’s that concentrated and systematic studies were commenced’ (Dawson 1984: 30). Today, most fieldwork is carried out as part of CRM and remains unpublished, sustained academic research is rare and few archaeologists and consulting firms are dedicated to working in the North (Hamilton 2013: 81). Many archaeologists working on rock art in the 1970s and 1980s were doing so as part of larger CRM initiatives and assessments though these reports are not always easy to locate (e.g. Lambert 1983; Reid 1980). Nonetheless, the enduring nature of many rock art sites compared to other scarce objects associated with beliefs has secured rock art’s position among the bestknown material expressions of Algonquian spirituality.

This effervescence of rock art studies fizzled down in the 1990s as researchers retired or moved away from rock art. Some of them published books and articles that put into perspective their manifold findings regarding the images and their landscape context (Conway 1993; Rajnovich 1994; Steinbring 1992; 1998). The new wave of researchers that emerged in the 1990s (e.g. Arsenault 2004; Lemaitre 2013; Norder 2003; Zawadzka 2008) have been standing on the shoulders of giants.

Rock art studied within its landscape context advanced studies on religion and archaeology, as well as Indigenous perceptions of landscapes where natural places, such as effigy rock formations, are alive and endowed with agency. When rock art researchers were exploring sacred places and theorising sacred landscapes in the 1970s and 1980s, archaeology was more concerned with studies of settlement patterns and ecological models. Spirituality, oral traditions and art were neglected (e.g. Knight 1977; Storck 1982; but see for example Dawson 1981; Kenyon 1986 for discussion of sacred places). Since the rise of post-processual archaeology in Canada in the 1990s, places and cultural landscapes are increasingly explored through spirituality, oral traditions, toponyms and pathways as the dichotomies of sacred and secular entrenched in Western ontologies are being challenged (e.g. Amundsen-Meyer 2015; Andrews and Zoe 1997; Oetelaar and Meyer 2006). Explorations in the materiality of landscape are rare and for example, phenomenological investigations are not numerous (cf. Zawadzka 2008 for landscape phenomenology and rock art). As for material culture, for a long time it was only treated as a passive and lifeless matter classified and studied as a temporal and spatial marker of ethnic or social identities, of migrations and diffusions or as a utilitarian technological adaptation to different environments. Since the 1970s, influence from symbolic and structural anthropology, and since the 1990s, from post-processual archaeology has inspired researchers to contextually explore the ceremonial and social uses of material culture (e.g. McGhee 1977; Ontario Archaeology 2005). In the Canadian Shield, owning to the relatively late onset of studies and their paucity, material culture’s typologies and its importance as a marker of identities are still relevant (e.g. Manitoba Archaeological Journal [2010] 2006). Recent theoretical

Beyond the Canadian Shield and rock art Has the work of previous researchers in the Canadian Shield had significant impact on Canadian archaeology or global rock art studies? The short answer is no. Global rock art studies tend to credit the insights from South Africa and Palaeolithic Europe for popularising the importance of the physical attributes of rock art, especially as they relate to shamanism (e.g. Clottes 2008; Lewis-Williams and Dowson 1990) while Tilley’s (1994) phenomenological approach has championed the experiential dimension of landscapes. Canadian Shield rock art studies suffer from poor diffusion. There are (to this day) only a handful of books published with limited print run. Many of the insights were published in specialised rock art newsletters (e.g. Canadian Rock Art Research Associates Newsletter, Ontario Rock Art Conservation Association Newsletter) or in grey literature. Besides the problem of obscure publications, in-depth studies are also rare. Rock art also failed to make a significant mark on archaeology. The Canadian Shield has been less studied than for example southern Ontario where research institutions are present and where larger Huandenosaunee (Iroquois) villages and robust ethnohistorical records spice up research. The Canadian Shield is more plagued by problems of preservation of organic remains (e.g. bone, wood, hides) due to acidic soils, ‘collapsed stratigraphy’ caused by slow rate of soil development and short-term seasonal occupation of hunter-gatherer sites, issues with predictive modelling, the false belief that sites are sparse and always small and the remoteness of sites (Hamilton 2013: 80–81; Reid 1988). Research in the Canadian Shield started 31

Dagmara Zawadzka

Figure 4.4. Profile view of the Agawa Bay cliff on Lake Superior, Ontario. Photo by Dagmara Zawadzka.

advances in materiality studies have also led to studies that examine material culture (ceramics) and built spaces as agents embedded in social relations (e.g. Braun 2015; Creese 2013; Watts 2006) however this approach is still fresh within Canadian archaeology.

and Molyneaux’ studies also anticipated the larger ‘ontological turn’ in social sciences and humanities (e.g. Alberti and Bray 2009: 337), where ontologies, materiality and agency are being questioned and redefined (e.g. Descola [2005] 2013; Knappett and Malafouris 2008). Yet, rock art was always the eccentric outlier in archaeology and its most fervent period of study (1960s-1980s) was met with a general disinterest for art, spirituality and sensuous engagements within Canadian archaeology. However, it is precisely its status as an outsider and as sacred art that allowed for its contextual and humanist exploration that shunned utilitarian interpretations and allowed for the incorporation of the sensuous and emotional dimensions that permeate our understandings of Art and of the religious experience (see Vastokas 2005).

Conclusion Canadian Shied rock art was a fertile ground for innovative thinking about art and place, as ethnography, ethnohistory, oral traditions, as well as the experiential dimension were deployed in its study. The close attention paid to the rock and place situated within the universe of Algonquian understandings of materials anticipated recent explorations carried out by scholars engaging with animism (e.g. Zedeño 2009). Vastokas’ 32

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The contextual approach (Molyneaux 1977) that invites phenomenological explorations of rock art places and that ultimately leads to exploration of materiality has been present since the beginnings of Canadian Shield rock art studies. It was there when Schoolcraft wrote ‘[t]here has been noticed a striking disposition in the persons inscribing these figures, to place them in positions on the rock, not easily accessible, as on the perpendicular face of a cliff, to reach with, some artificial contrivance must have been necessary. The object clearly was to produce a feeling of surprise or mystery’ (Schoolcraft 1851-1857: 1, 406).

Vancouver: Unpublished dissertation, University of British Columbia. Arsenault, D. 2004. From natural settings to spiritual places in the Algonquian sacred landscape: An archaeological, ethnohistorical, and ethnographic analysis of Canadian Shield rock art sites, in C. Chippindale and G. Nash (ed.) The Figured Landscapes of Rock-Art: Looking at Pictures in Place: 289–317. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Arsenault, D. and D. Zawadzka 2014. Spiritual places: Canadian Shield rock art within its sacred landscape, in D.L. Gillette, M. Greer, M.H. Hayward and W.B. Murray (ed.) Rock Art and Sacred Landscapes: 117–137. London and New York: Springer. Boyle, D. 1896. Rock paintings, or petrographs, in Annual Archaeological Report 1894-95. Appendix to the Report of the Minister of Education, Ontario: 44–46. Toronto: Warwick Bros. and Rutter. Bradley, R. 1997. Rock Art and the Prehistory of Atlantic Europe. Signing the Land. London and New York: Routledge. Bradley, R. 2000. An Archaeology of Natural Places. London and New York: Routledge. Braun, G.V. 2015. Ritual, Materiality, and Memory in an Iroquoian Village. Toronto: Unpublished dissertation, University of Toronto. Carmichael, D.L., J. Hubert, B. Reeves and A. Schanche (eds.) 1994. Sacred Sites, Sacred Places. London and New York: Routledge. Chippindale, C. and G. Nash (eds.) 2004. The Figured Landscapes of Rock-Art: Looking at Pictures in Place. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Clottes, J. 2008. Cave Art. London: Phaidon Conway, T. 1989. Scotia Lake pictograph site: Shamanic rock art in Northeastern Ontario. Man in the Northeast 37: 1–24. Conway, T. 1993. Painted Dreams. Minocqua, WI: Northwood Press. Conway, T. and J. Conway. 1989. An ethno-archaeological study of Algonkian rock art in Northeastern Ontario, Canada. Ontario Archaeology 49: 34–59. Creese, J.L. 2013. Rethinking early village development in Southern Ontario: Toward a history of placemaking. Canadian Journal of Archaeology 37 (2): 185– 218. Danto, A.C. 2014. What Art Is. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. David, B. and J. Thomas 2008. Landscape archaeology: Introduction, in B. David and J. Thomas (ed.) Handbook of Landscape Archaeology: 27–43. Walnut Creek, CA: Left Coast Press. Dawson, K.C.A. 1981. The prehistoric stone features on the relic North Shore Cobble Beaches of Lake Superior, in M. Wilson, K,L. Road and K.J. Hardy (ed.) Megaliths to Medicine Wheels: Boulder Structures in Archaeology. Proceedings of the Eleventh Annual Chacmool Conference: 297–312. Calgary: The

It is seen in this recent Indigenous account from the Batchewana First Nation of the experience at the Agawa Bay site on Lake Superior (Figure 4.4), where the top of the granite cliff marked with pictographs is an ideal fasting spot. It’s such a beautiful area. You put yourself on an open rock, you’re going to be in trouble, but if you go back a little bit, you can still see the lake and you have all the animals that come there. Bears, moose, wolves, coyotes, fox, raccoons, eagles… You’re up high so that eagles can fly right at your eye level. If you’re above the pictographs, there’s a wall straight down, about 150 feet up…, some of the eagles will land in the trees nearby and they’ll sit there if you’re really still. […]. There are powerful things that happen. You can hear people drumming and singing and that’s the spirits doing that, not individuals (Twance 2017: 69–70). References Alberti, B. and T.L. Bray. 2009. Animating archaeology: Of subjects, objects and alternative ontologies. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 19 (3): 337–343. Allen, W.A., G. O’Regan, P. Fletcher and R. Noganosh. 2013. Dibéwagendamowin / Kārohirohi: Reflections on sacred images on the rocks, in J. Day (ed.) Making Senses of the Past: Towards a Sensory Archaeology: 32– 48. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press. Amundsen-Meyer, L.M. 2015. Creating a spatial dialogue: A’kee Piskun and attachment to place on the Northwestern Plains. Plains Anthropologist 60 (234): 124–149. Andrews, T.D. and J.B. Zoe. 1997. The Idaà trail: Archaeology and the Dogrib cultural landscape, Northwest Territories, in G.P. Nicholas and T.D. Andrews (ed.) At a Crossroads: Archaeology and First Peoples in Canada: 160–177. Burnaby, BC: Archaeology Press. Arnett, C. 2016. Rock Art of Nlaka’pamux: Indigenous Theory and Practice on the British Columbia Plateau. 33

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Molyneaux, B.L. 1983. The study of Prehistoric sacred places: Evidence from Lower Manitou Lake. Royal Ontario Museum Archaeology Paper 2: 1–7. Molyneaux, B.L. 1987. The Lake of the Painted Cave. Archaeology 40 (4): 18–25. Norder, J.W. 2003. Marking Place and Creating Space in Northern Algonquian Landscapes: The Rock-art of the Lake of the Woods Region, Ontario. Michigan: Unpublished dissertation, University of Michigan. Norder, J.W. 2012a. The creation and endurance of memory and place among First Nations of Northwestern Ontario, Canada. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 16 (2): 385–400. Norder, J.W. 2012b. Landscapes of memory and presence in the Canadian Shield, in L. Sundstrom and W.R. DeBoer (eds.) Enduring Motives: The Archaeology of Tradition and Religion in Native America: 235–250. Tuscaloosa, AL: University of Alabama Press. Oetelaar, G.A. and D. Meyer. 2006. Movement and Native American landscapes: A comparative approach. Plains Anthropologist 51 (199): 355–374. Ontario Archaeology. 2005. Native Symbolic Expression Around the Great Lakes and Beyond. Ontario Archaeology 79-80. Pelshea, V. 1980. The West Patricia rock art project: First year, in C.S. Reid (ed.) Studies in West Patricia Archaeology 1, 1978-1979: 49–69. Toronto: Ontario Ministry of Culture and Recreation. Rajnovich, G. 1994. Reading Rock Art: Interpreting the Indian rock paintings of the Canadian Shield. Toronto: Natural Heritage/Natural History Inc. Reid, C.S. (ed.) 1980. Studies in West Patricia Archaeology 1: 1978-1979. Toronto: Ontario Ministry of Culture and Recreation. Reid, C.S. 1988. Some ideas concerning the formulation of research designs and excavation methodologies on Boreal forest habitation sites. Midcontinental Journal of Archaeology 13 (2): 187–221. Rozwadowski, A. 2017. Travelling through the rock to the Otherworld: The shamanic ‘Grammar of Mind’ within the rock art of Siberia. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 27 (3): 413–432. Schoolcraft, H.R. 1851-1857. Historical and Statistical Information Respecting the History, Condition, and Prospects of the Indian Tribes of the United States. Philadelphia: Lippincott, Gambo. 6 vols. Shiner, L. 2001. The Invention of Art. A Cultural History. Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press. Steinbring, J. 1978. Ethnological identification in rock pictography of the Canadian Shield, in Studies in Manitoba Rock Art II. Rock painting: 3–34. Winnipeg: Manitoba Department of Tourism, Recreation and Cultural Affairs. Steinbring, J. 1987. The Sasaginnigak Lake rock painting site, EjKv-P3, Manitoba. Manitoba Archaeological Quarterly 11 (2): 3–47.

Steinbring, J. 1992. Phenomenal attributes: Site selection factors in rock art. American Indian Rock Art 17: 102– 113. Steinbring, J. 1998. Aboriginal rock painting sites in Manitoba. Manitoba Archaeological Journal 8 (1-2). Steinbring, J., J.P. Whelan, D. Elias and T.E.H. Jones. 1969. Preliminary Report of Rock Painting Investigations of the Churchill River Diversion Project, 1969. Winnipeg: Department of Anthropology, University of Winnipeg. Storck, P. 1982. Palaeo-Indian Settlement Patterns Associated with the Strandline of Glacial Lake Algonquin in Southcentral Ontario. Canadian Journal of Archaeology (6): 1–31. Sweetman, P.W. 1955. A preliminary report on the Peterborough petroglyphs. Ontario History 47 (3): 101–133. Tilley, C. 1994. A Phenomenology of Landscape: Places, Paths and Monuments. Oxford and Providence: Berg. Tilley, C. 2004. The Materiality of Stone: Explorations in Landscape Phenomenology. Oxford and New York: Berg. Tilley, C. and K. Cameron-Daum. 2017. An Anthropology of Landscape: The Extraordinary in the Ordinary. London: UCL Press. Tuan, Y-F. [1977] 2007. Space and Place: The Perspective of Experience. Minneapolis and London: University of Minnesota Press. Twance, M. 2017. It Was Your Ancestors that Put Them There and They Put Them There for You. Exploring Indigenous Connection to Mazinaabikiniganan as Land-based Education. Lakehead: Unpublished dissertation, Lakehead University. Vastokas, J.M. 1992. Beyond the Artifact: Native art as Performance. Toronto: Robarts Centre, York University. Vastokas, J.M. 2005. Style, culture and ideology in Art Nouveau: An exemplary analytical model for a humanist archaeology, in A. Waters-Rist, C. Cluney, C. McNamee and L. Steinbrenner (eds.) Art for Archaeology’s Sake: Material Culture and Style across the Disciplines: 8–23. Calgary: The Archaeological Association of the University of Calgary. Vastokas, J.M. and R.K. Vastokas. 1973. Sacred Art of the Algonkians: A Study of the Peterborough Petroglyphs. Peterborough: Mansard Press. Watts, C.M. 2006. Pots as Agents: A Phenomenological Approach to Late Woodland Period (ca. AD 900-1300) Pottery Production in Southwestern Ontario, Canada. Toronto: Unpublished dissertation, University of Toronto. Whitley, D.S. 2001. Rock art and rock art research in a worldwide perspective: An introduction, in D.S. Whitley (ed.) Handbook of Rock Art Research: 7–51. Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira Press. Zawadzka, D. 2008. Canadian Shield Rock Art and the Landscape Perspective. Trent: Unpublished dissertation, Trent University. 35

Dagmara Zawadzka Zawadzka, D. 2013. Beyond the Sacred: Temagami Area rock art and Indigenous routes. Ontario Archaeology 93: 159–199. Zawadzka, D. 2016. Cultivating relations in the landscape: Animism and agency in the rock art of Temagami

region, Northeastern Ontario. Montréal: Unpublished dissertation, Université du Québec à Montréal. Zedeño, M.N. 2009. Animating by association: Index objects and relational taxonomies. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 19 (3): 407–417.

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Chapter 5

On the history of rock art research in Mexico and Central America Félix Alejandro Lerma Rodríguez Abstract Rock art in Mexico and Central America is one class of archaeological remains that has received less attention than others. More emphasis is given to other material such as monumental architecture, hieroglyphic writing, codices, and ceramics. These Mesoamerican elements, seen as ‘high culture’, have played fundamental roles in the construction of modern national identities. Mesoamerican rock art has played a secondary role in archaeological research and is virtually absent in the histories of archaeology, creating the impression that the study of rock art is something recent or new. Although it is true that in the last two to three decades there has been an increase in systematic research, this does not mean that there were no previous rock art studies. This chapter outlines the development of rock art research in Mexico and Central America from the earliest antecedents (colonial and nineteenth century) to the end of the twentieth century, so as to prompt further studies of the history of rock art research.

which brings us a certain ‘presentism’, which is characterised by considering that everything that has been said about rock art is necessarily recent. This last statement is accompanied by the idea that the interest in rock art arises by ‘importation’, that is, by the influence of foreign study traditions, mainly European, especially Paleolithic art, which is not entirely true either. In this context, this chapter includes relevant information to help us continue towards the reconstruction of this history, which will provide, among other benefits, a better understanding of the intellectual traditions of the region of study. On the other hand, given the large number and diversity of studies conducted in the last three decades, only some aspects are considered in the characterisation of current trends.

Introduction

The Colonial Period

The history of rock art research in Mexico and Central American countries is a subject little explored, by either archaeologists or historians.1 Although there are important studies on the history of archaeology in the region, particularly in Mexico and Guatemala (Alcina 1995; Bernal 1979; Fagan 1977), they do not include information about pictographs or petroglyphs. Archaeology, and also the history of archaeology, in Mexico and Upper Central America (Guatemala, Honduras, Belize, El Salvador) is characterised by a Mesoamerican emphasis. The pyramidal architectural structures and other objects inherited from ‘high cultures’, such as the Mexicas or the Mayas, occupy a preponderant place. This is the first aspect to consider: rock art is not a common object of study, much less a major one, in the traditions of studies of the region.

The splendor of the Mesoamerican cultures and their material traces have a mighty influence in Mexican and Central American archaeology, and this is evident from the first information given by European conquerors of the 16th century. Relations like those of Hernán Cortés, Bernal Díaz del Castillo or Pedro de Alvarado report aspects such as architecture, sculpture, mural painting, ceramics, feather ornaments, dances or music, to mention some manifestations of great expressiveness what we could call ‘arts’ (Alvarado 2000; Cortés 2002; Díaz 2010). However, both soldiers and friars, or later the bureaucrat-administrators, do not provide good data on designs present in rocks located in situ. This is perhaps because the places were not in their interest, or because the native populations jealously guarded these locations – since they came to constitute the last redoubts where they could maintain their ritual practices in the old way. It is possible, however, that future archival investigations – in documents related to legal proceedings against idolatries, for example – may reveal valuable insights. To this end, some ongoing initiatives are directed (Martínez 2021).

One consequence of this is the impression that rock art studies do not exist which, as we will see below, is erroneous. Studies may be scarce, but not altogether absent. Another implication is the lack of critical assessment of the contributions of previous works, 1 

In political and geographic terms, Central America constitutes Guatemala, Belize, Honduras, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Costa Rica and Panama. However, in this chapter, I refer to “Central American countries” as principally Guatemala, El Salvador and Nicaragua.

Powerful Pictures (Archaeopress 2022): 37–44

I highlight here a case that I find significant, particularly for allowing us to glimpse possible interpretations of rock art in the context of the indigenous world of the mid-sixteenth century. As is well known, the great

Félix Alejandro Lerma Rodríguez work of the Franciscan friar, Bernardino de Sahagún, whose Spanish title is the General History of the Things of New Spain, compiles extensive information about the indigenous world of the time before the contact with Europeans (Sahagún 1975). In the third book, dedicated to the origin of the gods, we find a reference of interest to the escape of Quetzalcoatl from the city of Tula. Quetzalcoatl (the Feathered Serpent) is a god-manpriest who is deceived by other gods and transgresses a series of ethical precepts, for which he is forced to leave the city where he lives and governs: the city of Tula or Tollan. On his journey to the east Quetzalcoatl arrives at an unspecified place near Cuauhtitlan (the place where trees abound), where: ‘He rested, and sat on a stone, and put his hands on it, and left the signs of the hands on it. He watched towards Tulla and began to weep sadly, and the tears that he spilled fell and made a few holes in the stone.’ (Sahagún 1975: 200).

points around the island. A reference by García de Palacio (2000: 47) tells us indirectly of the preserved memory of these practices just fifty years after the processes of conquest began: ‘There is in this province a lagoon named Uxaca, large and that from its drainage originates the river Lempa, which is one of the largest in this district; it has two peñoles [boulders/islands] in the middle, in one of which formerly the Indians of that district made their sacrifices and idolatries.’ Another piece of information from the colonial period takes place two centuries later, and consists of a document called Codex Teotenantzin, a manuscript made during the first half of the eighteenth century, and part of the collection of the Milanese traveler Lorenzo Boturini (Lopez and Noguez 2011: 251). This document shows a drawing of two high reliefs that have been identified as representations of the Mexican deities Tonantzin/Cihuacoatl (Our Mother/SerpentWoman) and Chicomecoatl (Seven-Serpent), relating to the creation of humanity, sacrifice and corn (López and Noguez 2011: 269, 271). These petroglyphs, now destroyed, were in the mountain range of Guadalupe, north of present-day Mexico City, near the main sanctuary of Mexico: the Basilica of the Virgin of Guadalupe. The gloss included in the document states: ‘These two figures represent the goddess that the Indians name Teotenantzin, which means Mother of the Gods. In the gentility the Indians worshiped him in the hill of Tepeyac, where today there is the Virgin of Guadalupe.’ (López and Noguez 2011: 252- 253). The image represents two idols in the style of postclassic sculptures from central Mexico, shown in their original context as suggested by the inclusion of the rock and the hill that contains them. Towards the end of the eighteenth or early nineteenth century, another traveler interested in antiquities, Guillermo Dupaix, in his extensive documentation of pre-Hispanic vestiges, elaborated a drawing that reproduces the same monument only partially, and showing a deterioration that was not present in the first record, since one of the deities appears destroyed (López and Noguez 2011: 257–258).

I do not have information about sites with rock art near the current population of Cuauhtitlán, located in the state of Mexico, which is currently an area of unplanned urban growth; if the site existed, it may be destroyed. It is plausible to think, however, that the previous quote refers to a site of petroglyphs with motifs of hands and, perhaps, with holes of the type of cup marks, called in spanish ‘cúpulas’, ‘tacitas’, ‘pocitos’ or ‘morteros’. However, the reference adds: ‘Quetzalcóatl put his hands in the big stone and sat on it, he prints his hands, as well as if he placed them in mud; and also left signs of the buttocks on the stone where he had sat, and the buttocks are clearly seen.’ (Sahagún 1975: 202). This brief yet significant reference alerts us to the possibility of finding this type of interpretation, which correspond to a mythico-religious view that, far from being considered superficially as ‘fabulous’, shows possible interpretations from the ambit of indigenous thought. In the Central American isthmus we find another point of interest. In 1576 the oidor (judge) Diego García de Palacio of the Audiencia of Guatemala, on a tour of that region, reported two lake islands in present-day Salvadoran territory where the indigenous people met in pre-Columbian times to worship their deities (García de Palacio 2000). One of the lagoons is named as Uaxaca and the other as Coatán, we know that they refer to the current lakes of Güija and Coatepeque. Although the report does not directly mention rock art, it does record the presence of sculpted idols and chalchihuites (green stone beads), as well as practices of ‘idolatry’ and ‘divination’ in which communities from different regions and languages participated. At least in the case of the island located in Uxaca-Güija, currently known as Igualtepeque Island, it is almost impossible not to consider the rock art, given that this site is characterised by the presence of petroglyphs scattered at various

We can see how different initiatives, such as Boturini and his specific research on the Virgin of Guadalupe, or Dupaix being more general about the antiquities of pre-Hispanic Mexico, include the documentation of rock art. None could be considered ‘scientific’ in the modern sense, however, both tried to offer a true record of these objects, conceiving them mainly as testimonies of information about the increasingly distant indigenous past. The approach, in this sense, is undeniably historical. In the context of colonial information, it is essential to include the mentions of the Jesuit friars concerning 38

On the history of rock art research in Mexico and Central America

one of the most famous corpuses of rock art in Mexico: the cave paintings of the Sierra de San Francisco, in the peninsula of Baja California. The presence of the company of Jesus in the northwest of New Spain occurred between 1697 and 1767, in this last year, as is known, they were expelled from the Spanish territories in America. Individuals like Miguel Venegas, Miguel del Barco and Francisco Xavier Clavijero assumed the task of rewriting the history of their order from exile, in places like Italy, to claim their evangelizing work in the New World (Barco 1973; Clavijero 2007; Venegas 1963). In this context, we find the first information about the rock art of Baja California, collected by the missionary José Mariano Rothea and published by Miguel del Barco. This report shows that the natives of the peninsula of Baja California believed that the paintings known today as the Great Mural style had been made by people from the north, members of a race of giants that dispersed and disappeared because of internal wars (Uriarte 2013: 30-31). As the antiquity of these manifestations became evident, it was then clear to the Jesuits that the indigenous populations of that moment did not recognise themselves as authors or direct heirs of that graphic tradition.

the rock art is seen as part of an exotic world that is gradually discovered thanks to the traveler, which, moreover, is part of a context of clear expansionism of the United States towards Mexico and Central America. Rock art is presented as part of a nature that is predestined to be the possession of the rising North American nation. On the other hand, in central-north Mexico, some years before, another process of identification and registration of rock art took place. This is the archaeological survey conducted by German engineer Carl de Berghes in Zacatecas, whose focus was the site La Quemada, but also included other places with petroglyphs (Wehrheim 2010). This approach is a detailed study commissioned to de Berghes by the governor of the state of Zacatecas, whose initiative is explained by an interest related to knowledge and the promotion of a regional identity (Wehrheim 2010). The archaeological documentation of Berghes is exact and meticulous, an example of how these nineteenth-century works were characterised by the rigor in the survey of information. Léon Diguet (1895) is another example of the interest in rock art exercised by a European migrant, who was hired as a chemical engineer at the El Boleo mine in Santa Rosalia, Baja California peninsula. In addition to his occupation as an engineer, he gradually became interested in the study of nature and history in general, such as the indigenous past of the region, including rock art. Diguet brings the first modern elements in the study of rock art in Baja California, giving information not only of the Great Mural style, but also of other styles less well-known in the southern part of the peninsula (Diguet 1895).

This colonial information, briefly reviewed, clarifies the importance of the approach to the colonial sources and the indigenous traditions as fundamental tools for the understanding of rock art in Mexico and Central America. Nineteenth Century In the beginning of the independence of Latin American nations, the role of foreign travelers was important in the field of the knowledge of rock art. Again, most of what we know about these scholars and explorers is related to the survey of Mesoamerican monumental vestiges. In the modern rediscovery of ancient Mesoamerican cities and the promotion of objects related to them, the role of authors such as William Bullock, Carl Nebel, Frederick Waldeck, John Lloyd Stephens and Frederick Catherwood among others, is widely known. Rock art, however, is once again a secondary priority.

Finally, in Central America, there is a case of great interest in the 1880s. Santiago I Barberena (1889) published some articles in Salvadoran magazines about the cave paintings of the Cave of the Espíritu Santo. His approach is somewhat fanciful, since it raises interpretations based on vague comparisons with the cultures of the Old World; nevertheless, the historical considerations that he tries to conclude from the rock art are indicative of how these types of artefact were seen as possible sources for historical inquiry.

One of the first reports about rock art in the nineteenth century was published by Ephraim George Squier. In his book Nicaragua; its people, scenery, monuments, he reported at least two sites with rock art: the paintings of the Asososca lagoon (which he called Nihapa) and the petroglyphs of Cailagua, located in a stream that flows into the Masaya lagoon (Squier 1852). His approach is developed in the context of a travel narration articulated from the individual experience of the protagonist, in this case Squier as a traveler. In the account one finds romantic and picturesque features;

The approaches to rock art during the nineteenth century are of different types, some have a more scientific nature than others, however, all of them generally assume the relevance of rock art sites and, without theorizing too much, they use them as sources for historical inquiry. The influence of foreigners is remarkable, especially from the United States, France and Germany, however, it is also noteworthy that interest in rock art had been aroused among some

39

Félix Alejandro Lerma Rodríguez members of local cultural elites, as is the case of the Central American Santiago Barberena.

archaeologists to specialise in the study of prehistory in Mexico; the study of the man of Tepexpan, considered for many years as the oldest human fossil of Mexico, is one of his prominent works (Martínez del Río 1947). In 1949, Martínez del Río published an article entitled ‘Petroglyphs and cave paintings’, in which he tried to demystify some ideas (such as the association of rock art with treasures) and highlight the role of indigenous populations in the understanding of American rock art (Martínez del Río 1949). He recognises the existence of a historical rock art, product of explorers or conquerors, but does not attribute great importance to him by focusing his interest in the study of prehistoric processes. He also points out the universal character of rock art and complains that in America there are no works to match the beauty of the cave of Altamira, in Spain. This shows us a certain aesthetic tendency, which is framed in a gradient of values where American rock art seems inferior.

On the other hand, as we can see, the study of rock art in Mexico and Central America, although influenced by European travelers, cannot have been influenced by the debates pertaining to European paleolithic art because it began so much earlier. Further, it is related more to the interest in the pre-Columbian world than to the revolution produced by the study of the art of Stone Age man in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The Twentieth Century To all intents and purposes, the study of rock art in Mexico during the first half of the twentieth century did not exist. During the last years of the regime of Porfirio Diaz (1876–1910) nationalism was exalted by means of the vindication of the ancient splendor of preHispanic Mexico, which resulted in ambitious works of study and reconstruction of monumental sites, among which Teotihuacan stands out (Ramírez 2008). Later, during the convulsive years of the Mexican Revolution (1910–1919) archaeological research and interest in antiquities were suspended. For its part, during the postrevolutionary years, during the 1920s and 1930s, there was a strong resurgence of interest in the indigenous element, both pre-Hispanic and contemporary, which translated into its exaltation in the arts and other media of nationalist discourse (Mijangos and López 2011). The great iconographic programs of the Mexican muralist movement included direct allusions to archaeological elements, but again rock art remained absent. The same thing happened in the academy, which was more focused on the social problems of the indigenous and peasant communities, than on the documentation of their plastic and symbolic creations (Korsbaek and Sámano-Rentería 2007).

On the other hand, the Spanish exiles in Mexico (1939– 1942), as is well known (Blasco and Pavón 2016; Landa at al. 2009), contributed greatly to the development of the sciences and humanities in newly created institutions of higher education during the government of Lázaro Cárdenas. Studies of prehistory, and among them the interest in rock art, were no exception. One of the most prominent figures was Pedro Bosch-Gimpera, who studied Greek philology and prehistory in Germany, and then worked as a professor at the University of Barcelona, eventually taking up the position of rector in that institution between 1933 and 1939 (Calvo 1999). It is worth mentioning that he pointed out a general framework for the study of American rock art, which he considered as work of Paleolithic heritage. He even tried to identify relationships between examples of American rock art with others from East Asia, with the aim of supporting the understanding of migrations of the first Americans (Bosch-Gimpera 1964).

In El Salvador, as mentioned previously, the news about rock art appeared in the local press from the late nineteenth century. Later, other authors such as Jorge Lardé, Jeremías Mendoza, Pector Desiré and Atilio Peccorini, reported sites, most of the time indicating only the location of paintings or petroglyphs, in other instances providing some information about their importance within indigenous communities (Costa 2010). However, it was not until 1930 that Antonio Sol published the first photograph of a site with petroglyphs: La Pintada of San José Villanueva (Costa 2010: 87).

Another case of studies conducted by European researchers was that of the German archaeologist Wolfgang Haberland who in the 1950s visited the site with the most important pictographs of El Salvador: the Cave of the Espíritu Santo, although it was not until 1972 that he published his report (Haberland 1972). Haberland documented, through drawings and descriptions, the cave paintings which are characterised by an anthropomorphic theme and using different colors such as red, white and yellow. The German scholar avoided proposing a chronology for the rock art, nevertheless, he indicated the presence of lithic artifacts that possibly belonged to a preceramic period. In other publications Haberland reported other sites with petroglyphs in Salvadoran territory (Haberland 1954).

The first attempts to formalise the study of rock art appeared towards the middle of the twentieth century. Pablo Martínez del Río was one of the first

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On the history of rock art research in Mexico and Central America

In the same decade of 1950, modern research began in the peninsula of Baja California, particularly in the Sierra de Guadalupe, where one of the most important sites of the Great Mural style is located: the cave of San Borjitas (Dahlgren 1954). Important sites with rock pictographs in Baja California were subject to journalistic notes, which motivated the development of an expedition by the National Institute of Anthropology and History, composed of Barbro Dahlgren, Javier Romero and Fernando Jordán (Dahlgren and Romero 1951). They contextualised the study area, including the aforementioned background of the Jesuit religious order and León Diguet, and also made a detailed record of the Cave of San Borjitas. Furthermore, they undertook some archaeological excavations, though without relevant results (Gutiérrez and Hyland 2001: 8).

Hermosillo, during the year of 1970, which had a PanAmerican character (Hernández 1973). Another corpus of rock art acquired prominence from the work of David Grove in Chalcatzingo, Morelos, and Oxtotitlán, Guerrero, with the discovery of reliefs and cave paintings of the Olmec style (1200–600 BC) (Grove 1970). Years before, the Stone of Las Victorias had been unveiled, a boulder with high reliefs in the same style located in Chalchuapa, in western El Salvador (Boggs 1950). The existence of a rock art associated with the great Mesoamerican artistic styles was also evidenced by the reports of Maya rock art in subterranean spaces of the Yucatan Peninsula (Strecker 1982). Although these findings were of great relevance, the biggest impression was the discovery of the cave paintings of Naj Tunich, in northern Guatemala (Stone 1995). In this respect, the work of Andrea Stone is exemplary and is still the best synthesis of rock art in the Mayan region, and includes references to sites in Mexico, Yucatan and Belize. Most of the sites seem associated with the Classic, Postclassic and even Colonial periods, which indicates a certain continuity that, coupled with the rich ethnohistorical and ethnographic information, augurs a promising study of these sites of rock art. However, so far there are few initiatives in this regard.

Interest in Baja California has continued and perhaps is now the most famous rock art region in Mexico. This could be due to several reasons: the large number of sites, the large format – figures of more than two meters located on cantilevered rocky roofs, which gives its name to the Great Mural style disseminated particularly in the San Francisco and Guadalupe mountain ranges – the excellent conservation of the paintings and the rapid fame that rock art obtained due to its diffusion in widely circulated magazines such as Life and Impacto (Gardner 1962, Dahlgren and Romero 1951: 3). Archaeological studies of rock art have been increasing since the first recognitions of William Massey until the recent works carried out by Gutiérrez and Viñas, among others (Massey 1947; Meighan 1966; Crosby 1984; Hambleton 2010; Gutiérrez 2013; Viñas 2013). Among the contributions made in recent years is the determination of some of the oldest dates, of 7500 B.P. for the Cave of San Borjitas, and 5290 B.P. for the Cave of El Ratón (Viñas et al. 2010: 245).

The third great horizon of the pre-Hispanic period in Mesoamerica, the Postclassic period, is also represented in the rock art by means of sites with a clear affiliation with the official Toltec-Mexica style, with different petroglyphs in high relief or by means of codex-type paintings, distributed in different parts of central Mexico (states of Mexico, Hidalgo and Puebla) in the states of Oaxaca and Chiapas, and also in Guatemala. The relationship of Mesoamerican rock art with other iconographic corpora is increasingly evident and considered, an example of which is the growing incorporation of this subject matter in the archaeological discussion and in the studies images.

It is not possible to detail all of the advances in the study of Baja Californian rock art, however, it is possible to determine a series of aspects that would be useful to discuss retrospectively: the criteria in the definitions of style and its relation with specific areas throughout the peninsula, the theoretical-methodological concepts used in interpretation, the relationship of rock art with the archaeological record and the intensification of chronological and material analyses.

In methodological terms, two widely cited works in the field of Mexican archaeology are those of Miguel Messmacher and Leticia González, who enunciated some considerations on documentation techniques, however, both had little dissemination (Messmacher 1981, González 1986). Since the 1980s and 1990s, research has increased considerably. An important sample of the wide variety of approaches to rock art in Mexico has been compiled in books by Pilar Casado (1990) and Lorena Mirambell (Casado and Mirambell 2006). The first includes classic texts of rock art in Mexico, some of which have been mentioned in this work, while the second showcases some of the more

For the decade of the 1970s the interest in American rock art in general, and Mexican in particular, is more extensive. Several sites are registered sporadically, through reports or brief articles, and different rock art regions with rock art, previously unnoticed, gradually begin to be known. A sample of this interest is reflected in the realisation of international meetings, such as the congress held in Mexico at two venues, Mexicali and

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Félix Alejandro Lerma Rodríguez current studies. Another book to be considered as a compilation of current works arose from a colloquium held in Tamaulipas (Ramírez et al. 2015). On the other hand, it is necessary to mention the advances in the study of colonial or historic rock art, proof of this is the book edited by Fernando Berrojalbiz (2015), which originated from an international colloquium held in Oaxaca. In addition, the current spectrum of research is completed with theses in disciplines such as history, archaeology, art history and plastic arts.

perpetuates a state of cultural dependence in relation to other countries. It is not enough, however, to simply recount the historiography, the task in the future is to investigate in detail the characteristics of the research done to date: the motivations for the study of rock art, the main lines of interpretation, the methods of documentation and means of communicating the results, both textual and pictorial.

In the case of Central America, the Guatemalan Rock Art Colloquium that has run since 2000 is the main forum at the regional level, and a meeting place for Central American and Mexican researchers. For its part, the most complete historiographical work done for a country in Central America is Phillipe Costa’s thesis (Costa 2010). At an international level, rock art in Mexico and Central America has become known through various reviews (Murray et al. 2003; Stone and Künne 2003; Murray and Viramontes 2006; Künne 2006).

Alcina, J. 1995. Arqueólogos o anticuarios. Historia antigua de la arqueología en la América Española. Barcelona: Serbal. Alvarado, P. 2000. Cartas de Alvarado a Cortés, in P. de Alvardo, D. Garcia de Palacio and A. de Cuidad Real (eds) Cartas de Relación y Otros Documentos: 19–32. San Salvador: Publishing and Print Management. Barberena, S.I. 1889. Elevado simbolismo de las manos dibujadas en la Gruta de Corinto en El Salvador. Los debates 57: 290–292. Barco, M. 1973. Historia Natural y Crónica de la Antigua California. México: National Autonomous University of Mexico. Bernal, I. 1979. Historia de la Arqueología en México. México: Porrúa. Berrojalbiz, F. (ed.) 2015. La Vitalidad de las Voces Indígenas: Arte Rupestre del Contacto y en Sociedades Coloniales. México: National Autonomous University of Mexico. Blasco, Y. and A. Pavón 2016. El exilio y el descubrimiento de una vocación científica, in A.R. Pavon, C.I. Ramíres González and A. Valesco Gómez (eds) Estudios y Testimonios Sobre el Exilio Español en México. Una visión Sobre su Presencia en las Humanidades: 335–372. México: Bonilla Artigas-National Council of Science and Technology. Boggs, S. 1950. ‘Olmec’ pictographs in the Las Victorias Group, Chalchuapa archaeological zone, El Salvador. Notes on Middle American Archaeology and Ethnology 99: 85–92. Bosch-Gimpera, P. 1964. El arte rupestre de América. Anales de Antropología 1: 29–45. Calvo, L. 1999. Pedro Bosch-Gimpera y la arqueología antropológica: una aproximación históricobiográfica, in Anuario 1998 del Centro de Estudios Superiores de México y Centroamérica: 436–451. Tuxtla Gutiérrez: University of Sciences and Arts of Chiapas. Casado, M. and L. Mirambell (eds) 1990. El Arte Rupestre en México. México: National Institute of Anthropology and History. Casado, M. and L. Mirambell (eds) 2006. Arte Rupestre en México. Ensayos 1990-2004. México: National Institute of Anthropology and History. Clavijero, F. X. 2007. Historia de la Antigua o Baja California. México: Porrúa.

References

A detailed study of modern research has not yet been undertaken, nor has a retrospective critique been carried out, both in the field of research itself and in the role that rock art is playing beyond the academy – and there is an opportunity here for future research. Conclusion Reports of rock art in Mexico and Central America go back to the colonial period and truly significant attempts arose during the nineteenth century. During the twentieth century, particularly during the second half, and in the first years of the 21st century, studies have diversified. Most works are focused on specific regions and there is not yet a synthesis at a national level in Mexico. In Central America, the study is divided by national borders and there are few overall visions at the regional level. On the other hand, the economic and social crisis that Central America experienced between the 1970s and the 1990s still has consequences, which are reflected in a scant attention to rock art as a priority in terms of the study and conservation of archaeological heritage. The objective of this contribution is to highlight some of the fundamentals in the background to the investigation of rock art with the intention of encouraging their study. It is necessary that archaeology and the history of archaeology in Mexico and Central America be enriched with rock art, it cannot remain absent or managed in isolation from these disciplines. Without acknowledging that rock art research has this depth, there is a risk of considering as new what is not, and of losing information and data previously recorded by other authors. Further, this lack of acknowledgement 42

On the history of rock art research in Mexico and Central America

Cortés, H. 2002. Cartas de Relación. México: Porrúa. Costa, P. 2010. Historiographie de l’art rupestre au Salvador. Paris  : Unpublished Master dissertation, University of Paris I. Crosby, H.W. 1984. The Cave Paintings of Baja California. California: Copley Books. Dahlgren, B. 1954. Las pinturas rupestres de la Baja California. Artes de México 3: 1–12. Dahlgren, B. and J. Romero 1951. La prehistoria bajacaliforniana. Cuadernos Americanos 4: 3–28. Díaz, B. 2010. Historia Verdadera de la Conquista de la Nueva España. México: Porrúa. Diguet, L. 1895. Note sur la pictographie de la BasseCalifornie. L’Anthropologie 6: 160–175. Fagan, B. M. 1977. Elusive Treasure. The Story of Earl Archaeologists in the Americas. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. García de Palacio, D. 2000. Carta de relación del oidor Diego García de Palacio, in P. de Alvardo, D. Garcia de Palacio and A. de Cuidad Real (eds) Cartas de Relación y Otros Documentos: 33–55. San Salvador: Publishing and Print Management. Gardner, E. S. 1962. A legendary treasure left by long lost tribe. Life 53: 57–64. González, L. 1986. Teoría y Método en el Registro de las Manifestaciones Gráficas Rupestres. México: Secretary of Public Education and National Institute of Anthropology and History. Grove, D. C. 1970. Los Murales de la Cueva de Oxtotitlán, Acatlán, Guerrero. México: National Institute of Anthropology and History. Gutiérrez, M. 2013. Paisajes ancestrales. Identidad, memoria y arte rupestre en las cordilleras centrales de la península de Baja California. Unpublished PhD dissertation, National School of Anthropology and History. Gutiérrez, M. and J. R. Hyland 2001. La tradición Gran Mural de Baja California central. Boletín oficial del Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. Antropología 63: 3–12. Haberland, W. 1954. Apuntes sobre petrograbados de El Salvador. Comunicaciones 4: 235–273. Haberland, W. 1972. The cave of the Holy Ghost. Archaeology 4: 286–291. Hambleton, E. 2010. Lienzos de Piedra: Pintura Rupestre en la Baja California. México: Banamex Cultural Promotion. Hernández, C. (ed.) 1973. III Simposio Internacional Americano de Arte Rupestre. México: Magisterio. Korsbaek, L. and M. A. Sámano-Rentería 2007. El indigenismo en México. Antecedentes y actualidad. Ra Ximhai 1: 195–224. Künne, M. 2006. Zone 1. Central America, in ICOMOS (ed.) Rock Art of Latin America & the Caribbean: 11–42. Paris: International Council on Monuments and Sites.

Landa, M., A. Briones and A. Sánchez 2009. El legado científico del exilio español en México a través de Ciencia. Revista hispanoamericana de ciencias puras y aplicadas. Ibersid. Revista de Sistemas de Información y Documentación 3: 87–93. López, L. and X. Noguez 2011. El códice de Teotenantzin y las imágenes prehispánicas de la Sierra de Guadalupe, México, in N. Ragot, S. Peperstraete and G. Olivier (eds) La quête du serpent à plumes. Arts et religions de l’Amérique précolombienne.Hommage à Michel Graulich: 251–276. Paris: Brepols. Martínez, R. 2021. Las huellas de los hombres y los dioses: notas sobre arte rupestre mesoamericano en las fuentes coloniales. Arqueología 60: 6–16. Martínez del Río, P. 1947. El hombre fósil de Tepexpan. Cuadernos Americanos 4: 139–150. Martínez del Río, P. 1949. Petroglifos y pinturas rupestres. Revista de Estudios Universitarios 5: 603-615. Massey, W. 1947. Brief report on archaeological investigations in Baja California. Southwestern Journal of Anthropology 4: 344–359. Meighan, C. 1966. Prehistoric rock paintings in Baja California. American Antiquity 3: 372-392. Messmacher, M. 1981. Las Pinturas Rupestres de la Pintada, Sonora. Un Enfoque Metodológico. México: National Institute of Anthropology and History. Mijangos, E. and A. López 2011. El problema del indigenismo en el debate intelectual posrrevolucionario. Signos Históricos 25: 42–87. Murray, W.B., M. Gutiérrez, C.A. Quijada, C. Viramontes and M. Winter 2003. Mexican rock art studies at the turn of the millennium, in P.G. Bahn and A. Fossati (eds) Rock Art Studies: News of the World 2: 178–195. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Murray, W.B. and C. Viramontes 2006. Zone 1. Mexico (including Baja California), in ICOMOS (ed.) Rock Art of Latin America & the Caribbean: 3–10. Paris: International Council on Monuments and Sites. Ramírez, M. 2008. ‘El Nacimiento de una ciencia’: La arqueología mexicana durante el porfiriato. Diálogos. Revista Electrónica de Historia. Special Number: 153– 170. Ramírez, G., F. Mendiola, W.B. Murray and C. Viramontes (eds) 2015. Arte Rupestre de México Para el Mundo. Avances y Nuevos Enfoques de la Investigación, Conservación y Difusión de la Herencia Rupestre Mexicana. México: Tamaulipas Goverment. Sahagún, B. 1975. Historia General de las Cosas de la Nueva España. México: Porrúa. Squier, E. G. 1852. Nicaragua: Its People, Scenery, Monuments, Resources, Condition, and Proposed Canal; with one Hundred Original Maps and Illustrations. New York: Harper & Brothers. Stone, A. 1995. Images from the Underworld: Naj Tunich and the Tradition of Maya Cave Painting. Austin: University of Texas Press.

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Félix Alejandro Lerma Rodríguez Stone, A. and M. Künne 2003. Rock art of Central America and Maya Mexico, in P.G. Bahn and A. Fossati (eds) Rock Art Studies: News of the World 2: 196–213. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Strecker, M. 1982. Representaciones de manos y pies en el arte rupestre de cuevas de Oxkutzcab, Yucatán. Boletín de la Escuela de Ciencias Antropológicas de la Universidad de Yucatán 52: 47–57. Uriarte, M.T. 2013. Historia y Arte de la Baja California. México: National Autonomous University of Mexico. Venegas, M. 1963. Noticia de la California y de su Conquista Temporal Espiritual hasta el Tiempo Presente. México: Layac. Viñas, R. 2013. La Cueva Pintada. Proceso Evolutivo de un Centro Ceremonial, Sierra de San Francisco, Baja

California Sur, México. Barcelona: Seminari d’Estudis i Recerques Prehistòriques. Viñas, R., X.P. Rodríguez, A. Rubio and L. Mendoza 2010. Los orígenes del Arcaico Gran Mural (Baja California, México): testimonios arqueológicos y propuestas, in J. Jiménez, C. Serrano, A. González and F. Aguilar (eds) III Simposio Internacional. El Hombre Temprano en América: 239–249. México: National Institute of Anthropology and History and National Autonomous University of Mexico. Wehrheim, M. 2010. En búsqueda de una historia regional. Carl de Berghes y su descripción de las ruinas de La Quemada (1855). Revista de Humanidades 27/28: 379–391.

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Chapter 6

‘To alleviate the night-black darkness that conceals our most ancient times:’ Carl Georg Brunius’ trailblazing rock art thesis from 1818 Joakim Goldhahn Abstract This article presents the second thesis and the first explicit goal-orientated fieldwork about rock art in northern Europe. This was accomplished by Carl Georg Brunius (1792–1869), a priest, professor in Greek, who is best known for his language skills, as a Middle Ages specialist and restorer of churches. His novel fieldwork began in 1815 and ended in 1817. During three long summers, Brunius localised and documented 65 rock art panels in Tanum Parish in northern Bohuslän, Sweden. His fieldwork resulted in an unpublished thesis from 1818, which is thoroughly presented in this article. Later fieldwork in 1838 added another c. 35 panels, before Brunius finally published a monograph in 1868, with the title ‘An Attempt to Explain the Rock Carvings with 15 posters’ (translated here). He considered that rock engravings were related to an early form of picture-writing, reflecting wars and feuds which were caused by raw and brutish amorous escapades.

it difficult to get out of their libraries’ (Nordbladh 2015: 122). He spent three summers between 1815 and 1817 surveying and documenting rock engravings in northern Bohuslän on the west coast of Sweden (Figure 6.3, see Grandien 1974: 47–64; Nordbladh 2015). In the autumn of his life, Brunius (1868: 60) stated that his original thesis from 1818 included a study of about 100 engraved rock art panels, but in the preserved unpublished manuscript they are stated to be 65 (Brunius 1818). The difference of approximately 35 panels was probably added during Brunius’ antiquarian journey in 1838 (Brunius 1839). Regardless, this study was the first more systematic attempt to explore north European rock art (Bertilsson 2015; Goldhahn 2013; 2018; Nordbladh 1995; 2015). It may even be true from a global perspective (cf. Bahn 1998; David and McNiven 2018; McDonald and Veth 2012; Whitley 2001).

Introduction The history of archaeology constitutes a vital part of all archaeology but not all archaeology becomes part of the history of archaeology. This article addresses one such instance: Carl George Brunius’ (1792–1869) unpublished thesis from 1818 on rock art in northern Bohuslän, a county situated within the border of today’s Sweden (Figures 6.1–6.2): Rapport Succinct sur les Hieroglyphes trouvés sur les Rochers de la Province de Bohus. The thesis is important for the history of archaeology in general and in particular for the history of rock art research, mainly because it presented the results of the first targeted survey and documentation project of rock art in northern Europe. It was the first thesis that was built on first-hand experience of a larger corpus of rock art. Moreover, it took place in a formative era just before archaeology was defined as a science with specific and established theories and methods that could create knowledge about ancient times without the aid of historical sources (e.g. Gräslund 1987; Goldhahn 2013; Rowley-Conwy 2007; Schnapp 1996; Trigger 2006). It was in the intersection between the Enlightenment and Romanticism that archaeology was founded (Goldhahn 2018; Nicklasson 2011a, 2012). Brunius’ achievement was that his thesis was based on extensive fieldwork at a time when ‘The scholars found

Powerful Pictures (Archaeopress 2022): 45–60

Figure 6.1. Carl Georg Brunius (1792–1869) in 1842 after a drawing by Magnus Körner. At the time he was 50 years old. Copyright expired.

Joakim Goldhahn My aim with this article is to demonstrate the need for archival studies in picturing the history of rock art research, exemplified here by a thorough presentation of Brunius’ unpublished but epoch-making thesis from 1818. Although Brunius’ study is by no means unknown, it is rarely discussed and presented in any depth. The reason for this is that Brunius reworked his c. 32 pages and 8000-word long thesis and published it in his autumn years. The more easily accessible monograph published in 1868 has more often than not been treated as the source of his unpublished thesis from 1818, even though it was published 50 years after the original thesis discussed here and only a year before Brunius passed away (cf. Bertilsson 2015; Grandien 1974; Ling 2008; Nordbladh 2015). Although there are more similarities than differences between these works, this seems anachronistic, not least from a historical viewpoint. A contributing factor to this situation has been that the 1818 thesis only is preserved in French (Figure 6.2), a language that north European rock art scholars of today do not necessarily master. In this article, I have therefore chosen to stay true to his unpublished thesis from 1818 (the following quotes from Brunius’ thesis are translated here). The earliest documentations and surveys Rock art had been noticed and documented earlier in northern Europe. The oldest documentation was carried out during the first half of the 17th century when Denmark and Sweden competed to become a major political power in Europe (Goldhahn et al. 2010).

Figure 6.2. Brunius’ trailblazing thesis from 1818. Now in Antikvarisk Topografiskt Arkiv in Stockholm, Bruniussamlingen Bd LXVI, published with their kind permission.

Figure 6.3. Places in northern Europe mentioned in this paper. 1. Northern Bohuslän, 2. Scania, 3. Blekinge, 4. Öland, 5. Tjust. Authors map.

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Carl Georg Brunius’ Trailblazing Rock Art Thesis from 1818

Figure 6.4. Example of early rock art documentations from northern Europe. Top left, Backa in Brastad in Bohuslän (Brastad 1) by Alfsøn 1627; top right, Gladhammar by in Tjust (Gladhammar 22) by Rhezelius 1634; middle left, Möckleryd (Torhamn 11) in Blekinge after Lagerbring 1746; below left, Bredarör on Kivik in Scania (Södra Mellby 42) by Hilfeling 1775 after Forssenius and Lagerbring 1780, and; below right, a boulder with a wheel-cross image from Kalmar by Rhezelius 1634 (now lost). Note that only Rhezelius and Hilfeling provide statements about scale (for Hilfelings original documentation, see Goldhahn 2013). Source: Lagerbring 1746; Forssenius and Lagerbring 1780; Goldhahn 2011, 2013.

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Joakim Goldhahn Two rock art panels from Brastad and Askum parish in Bohuslän, then part of Norway, were documented in 1627 by Peder Alfssøn (1581–1663). Soon thereafter, in 1634, Johannes Haquini Rhezelius (1600–1666) documented some rock engravings from Öland, Kalmar, and Tjust, situated on the Swedish east coast. None of these documentations were published during the 17th century (Figure 6.4); those from Bohuslän were first published in 1784 by Peder Frederik Suhm (1784: 215– 216) and those from Öland, Kalmar, and Tjust in 2011 (Goldhahn 2011). The first published rock art in northern Europe is, as far as I know, from 1746 when Sven Lagerbring (1707–1787) published an engraved boat figure from Möckleryd in Blekinge in the south-eastern parts of Sweden (Lagerbring 1746: 5). More noteworthy was the 1748 discovery and 1756 publication of rock engravings from the central cist of the famous monumental Bronze Age cairn Bredarör on Kivik in Scania (Goldhahn 2009; 2013), which in 1780 resulted in the first academic dissertation on rock art in northern Europe (Forssenius and Lagerbring 1780). The dissertation included two well-executed documentations of the engraved slabs (Figure 6.4), which were made by Carl Gustav Gottfried Hilfeling (1740–1823). The mentioned thesis presents several innovative methodologies that became important for the formation of the archaeological discipline (Goldhahn 2018; 2020).

Figure 6.5. Portraits of people mentioned in this paper; top left, Count Lars von Engeström; top right, Sven Lagerbring; below left, Nils Henric Sjöborg, and; below right, Gomer Brunius. Various sources, all copyrights expired.

However, none of these findings were published, and they remained unknown outside a very limited circle of introvert antiquarians (Goldhahn 2011; 2013). Neither did these explorations distinguish rock art as a separate category of ancient remains, the artworks were sometimes documented when they were found, but, with the mentioned exceptions in mind, these discoveries never became the subject of any in-depth studies before Brunius’ goal-oriented fieldwork changed the situation.

In the case of Bohuslän, Hilfeling should especially be mentioned; he documented some rock art panels to scale during his antiquarian journey and survey in 1792 (Brunius 1868: 162), the same year that Brunius was born. Six panels with engravings were published in 1794 by Pehr Tham (1737–1820), a wealthy nobleman with a flourishing interest in ancient times (Nordbladh 2002), who also engaged Hilfeling to conduct the antiquarian survey (Nordbladh 1997). Brunius (1868: 58–60) considered Hilfeling’s documentations to be careless and unscientific. Of importance for Brunius’ later achievement, was that Hilfeling was accommodated with his family in Tanum during the mentioned survey (Brunius 1868: 162), which explains why his father Gomer Brunius (1748–1819) was well-informed about the occurrence of rock engravings in the vicinity. Bo Grandien (1974: 53) even states that Gomer (Figure 6.5), who showed a great interest in remains from ancient times, rediscovered three rock art sites before his son took over this pursuit in the summer of 1815.

Childhood and education Carl Georg Brunius is best known as a classic philologist, as a poet, and for his extensive knowledge of medieval art history and architecture (e.g. Brunius 1850, see Andrén 2020; Granding 1974). Between 1833 and 1859 he led the extensive restoration of Lund Medieval Cathedral (Brunius 1836; 1854), a work troubled by academic disputes as to what restoration ideals should prevail (Grandien 1974). He also wrote high-pitched romantic poetry, preferably in Latin (Brunius 1822; 1857). Brunius seems to have been a disputed character (Figure 6.1). Although he was a priest, he rarely went to church. During the years that the restoration of Lund’s cathedral was ongoing, a famed sign hung on the door to his office, stating that he: ‘Is to be met in the cathedral all days except Sundays’ (Fehrman and Westling 1993: 121, translated here). In his students’

A similar scenario can be pictured concerning systematic surveys of ancient remains in northern Europe. In Sweden, this work began in the early 17th century (Goldhahn 2011). They were intensified during the 1660s (Baudou 2004), and occasionally these resulted in the rediscovery of rock art (Jensen 2002). 48

Carl Georg Brunius’ Trailblazing Rock Art Thesis from 1818

memoirs, he appears ‘as a brutish professor, known for his loud swearing, a harsh master who neglected his teaching and occasionally chased away the poor students who wanted to take his time for the exams’ (Fehrman and Westling 1993: 122, translated here); a description that is not entirely different from Brunius’ thoughts on the ‘raw and brutish’ Stone Age people he considered to have created the rock art in northern Europe (e.g. Brunius 1868, see Goldhahn 2013: 110–112).

Middle Neolithic (Tanum 579, see Sjögren 2003), and on the other side of the road from the church stands a runic stone from the sixth century AD, the so-called Kallebystenen (Tanum 576), with an inscription in the older runic alphabet (von Friesen 1924; Grönvik 1990). The surrounding mountains in the area are adorned with countless architectural monuments in the form of cairns, which were created both during the Bronze Age and the Early Iron Age (Hallström 1918).

Brunius’ family originated from Denmark. He was born in 1792 in the vicarage of Tanum parish (Figure 6.3), which lies at the heart of the rock art area which in 1994 was proclaimed a UNESCO World Heritage (Hygen and Bengtsson 2000). His father Gomer was a man of the Enlightenment and had served as a priest during three trips to China for the Swedish East India Company (Figure 6.5). He embarked in 1772 and disembarked in 1778. The journeys meant an open door to a career within the Swedish Lutheran State Church, and he was appointed vicar in 1770, after which he received a magnificent rectory comprising Tanum and Lur parishes in northern Bohuslän. The vicarage in Tanum not only became a hub in the parish, but it also became a vital node within learned circles in western Sweden.

Brunius was one of 13 siblings, ten of whom reached adulthood. They were all given a solid upbringing. Gomer led the teaching of his children with the help of a private tutor and clerks from his church. Carl Georg showed a very practical touch and participated enthusiastically in all tasks on the farm. For a while, Brunius went on to teach masonry, which was considered unworthy of a priest’s son (Grandien 1974: 39). He was also a gifted artist but it is fair to state that his main talent was linguistics. Brunius was a very solid stylist and he came to learn several languages, including Latin, Greek, Hebrew, German, English, French, Italian and Spanish. In 1803, when Brunius was only eleven years old, he followed his older brothers to Lund to begin his studies at the academy, what we today would call a university (Fehrman and Westling 1993). Two years later he graduated as a student (Grandien 1974: 39). He then went on to study at the academy in Uppsala for two years, before returning to Lund for a graduate degree. The latter was received in 1813 when he was 21 years old. It included in-depth studies in classical languages, mainly Latin and Greek, as well as mathematics. He also took grades in aesthetics, history, Eastern languages, natural history, chemistry, theology, astronomy, physics, as well as theoretical and practical philosophy (Grandien 1974: 40).

Gomer was of great importance for Brunius’ mounting interest in ancient times. He was a powerful man with mercantile interests, who reformed the vicarage to become a modern farm, which at one time included c. 40 servants. He drained wetlands and turned them into fields and meadows. He experimented with new forms of artificial fertilizers. Gomer expanded his estate by buying more land and homesteads. He founded an extensive orchard, and the fruit was sold to nearby towns. His successful land and farming reforms were noted in both Norway and Sweden, and Gomer was elected to several learned societies, including royal societies in Trondheim in Norway and Gothenburg in Sweden (Nor., Kongl. Videnskabers Selskap, Swe., Kongl. Vetenskaps- och Vitterhetssamhället, Grandien 1974: 38).

Brunius soon became known as one of the foremost linguists at the Academy in Lund, with outstanding knowledge of Hebrew, Greek, and Latin (Grandien 1974: 39–46). In 1815, he was appointed associate professor (Swe. Docent) in the Greek language under the wellknown professor, novelist, poet and cultural personality Esaias Tegnér (1782–1846), a leading scholar in the Romanticism movement in northern Europe (Molin 2003; Nicklasson 2012). The position was unpaid but meant benefits such as access to foundations and travel grants, and possibly also a future position as a professor. The latter did not always receive regular wages but was paid through the yield of several homesteads which were placed at the professors’ disposal (Fehrman and Westling 1993). Instead, Brunius earned his livelihood by offering private tuition to students in classical languages. In 1816 he was appointed an adjunct in the Greek language, a position which, pleasantly enough, included a small wage.

Through his long journeys with the East India Company, Gomer had developed an open enlightened mind, he was well versed in a variety of foreign languages and had a keen interest in antiquarian issues. For example, he assisted when Hilfeling documented rock art in the vicinity of his vicarage in 1792. Gomer actively collected antiquities and eventually gained a considerable collection (Brunius 1868: 162). His extensive library was an inexhaustible source of knowledge for young Brunius. To his inspirations, we can also add his old stomping ground. The area around Brunius’ home in Tanum abounds in ancient remains from different times. Just on the other side of the road from the vicarage is one of the area’s many megalithic monuments from the

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Joakim Goldhahn Of importance for the advent of his rock art thesis was that Brunius established a close and confidential relationship with the Chancellor of the Lund Academy, Count Lars von Engeström (1751–1826), which is evident, among other things, by the fact that Brunius dedicated his thesis from 1818 to him (Figures 6.2, 6.5). von Engeström had an extensive library that Brunius made use of when he stayed in Stockholm and wrote his thesis. His close relationship with von Engeström was beneficial to Brunius and the former eventually arranged a professorship in Greek for Brunius in 1824 at the Lund Academy. The appointment was preceded by customary intrigues and quarrels with the result that Brunius maintained a lifelong enmity to some jealous colleagues in the academic world.

Fieldwork and thesis Brunius began his systematic survey and the timeconsuming work of documenting rock engravings in northern Bohuslän in the summer of 1815. From the beginning, it seems that Brunius aimed to investigate ancient remains more generally. For example, in the summer of 1816, he excavated a giant cairn at Mjölkeröd, the so-called ‘Galgeröset’, which turned out to contain a central burial from the third period of the Middle Bronze Age (Brunius 1839: 85–86; Tordeman 1924). Fairly soon, however, the fieldwork came to concentrate on rock art. His survey and documentations extended over three summers, from 1815 to 1817, and it resulted in 65 documented panels with engravings (Brunius 1818). Subsequent additions during one of his antiquarian journeys in 1838 increased his source material to close to 100 panels (Brunius 1839; 1868); about one-seventh of those known in Tanum parish today (e.g. Hygen and Bengtsson 2000; Ling 2008).

The Romanticism led to a renewed interest in studies of ancient times (Nicklasson 2011a; 2011b; 2012), not least in Lund. A number of the 19th century’s most leading archaeologists studied together with Brunius (e.g. Baudou 2004; Nicklasson 2012). Here we should mention Johan Gustaf Liljegren (1791–1837), Magnus Bruzelius (1786–1855), Bror Emil Hildebrand (1806– 1884) and Sven Nilsson (1787–1883). The latter three made a decisive contribution to the formation of the archaeological science and are counted as some of the most significant archaeologists of the 19th century (Baudou 2004; Goldhahn 2013; Nicklasson 2011b; 2012; 2018; Regnell 1983). The contacts with learned Danish antiquarians, such as the acclaimed Christian Jürgensen Thomsen (Jensen 1992; Rowley-Conwy 2007) were close (Hildebrand 1937; 1938; Grandien 1974).

After finishing the fieldwork, Brunius stayed in Stockholm in 1818 where he acted as a private tutor. It was here that he wrote and presented his thesis to Count von Engeström (Brunius 1818), probably since he was the chancellor of the academy in Lund. von Engeström became excited and suggested a publication and had the thesis translated into French (Figure 6.2), the lingua franca in the academic world during the early 19th century. This has probably contributed to the fact that Brunius’ original thesis is rarely considered by subsequent research generations. The publishing soon encountered problems, mainly because Brunius’ many rock art documentations were too expensive to print. von Engeström left the country after a couple of years, and he died in 1826, after which the idea of ​​a publication came to a halt. After Brunius’ old friend Liljegren had been appointed the State Antiquarian of Sweden in 1826, the idea of ​​a publication of Brunius’ thesis arose again, but this attempt was also unsuccessful.

The anchor of this movement and renewed interest in the past was Nils Henric Sjöborg (1767–1838). In 1797, he published the first overview of ancient remains in northern Europe. Two years later he was named professor of history (Figure 6.5). He taught about antiques and numismatics, as well as objects from the past, and he was the driving force in the creation of a new historical and archaeological museum at the Lund Academy which opened in 1805 (Stjernquist 2005). In 1814, Sjöborg was named Antiquities Curator of Sweden (Swe. Antikvitetsintendent), with the weighty responsibility for the country’s ancient remains. He published pamphlets to disseminate knowledge about ancient remains to be able to preserve them for the future (Sjöborg 1815a; 1815b; 1815c).

Brunius’ manuscript was well-known by contemporary scholars despite the hardships of publishing the thesis. It was read at informal gatherings, lectures and circulated in learned circles at the Lund Academy. It was also commented on in a series of theses and articles (e.g. Holmberg 1848). Brunius was regarded as an authority on north European rock art, and he defended his thoughts and interpretations about the age and meaning of the rock engravings until his passing in 1869 (e.g. Brunius 1839; 1841; 1868).

Indisputably, the most brilliant mind among Sjöborg’s students was Bruzelius, one of the forgotten architects behind the well-known Three-Age-System (Goldhahn 2013: 123; Nicklasson 2011b). It was moreover Bruzelius who persuaded Brunius to immerse himself into the study of rock art in Bohuslän (Grandien 1974: 49).

For example, Brunius was a central figure in the second major debate about the meaning and significance of north European rock art, which took place in the late

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1830s and early 1840s (Goldhahn 2013: 107–112). When Brunius’ study from 1818 finally was published in 1868, it appeared in a heavily reworked and developed version. The main features of his 1818 thesis are faithfully recapitulated in the 1868 monograph, as well as several documentations of the rock art panels from his first fieldwork (Figures 6.7, 6.8). In total, there are about 15 plates, but since six of the plates constitute collages of engravings, the rock art images originate from significantly more sites. Brunius’ book from 1868 should be regarded as a defence against the scholars who dared to contradict his thoughts on the age and significance of the rock art from northern Bohuslän (Goldhahn 2013: 110–115).

to be a well-attested historical fact at the time due to the Norse Sagas, see Hedeager 2011). Brunius, therefore, considered it strange that this important subject matter had been so neglected by earlier and contemporary antiquarian scholars: ‘I suppose they are remnants of a way of writing with pictures that were used in the Nordic countries, and that they can help to alleviate the night-black darkness that conceals our most ancient times.’ Brunius presents several arguments why the rock engravings were created in times before the earliest historical sources. Evidence of this is that the depicted humans, four-footed animals, birds, snakes, and more abstract figures, are not accompanied by runes. The images must, therefore, be older than the runic alphabet, and other historical sources such as classic writers like Strabo and Tacitus, Norse Sagas, Saxo Grammaticus, etc.

We turn now to Brunius’ original manuscript to explore his thoughts on the rock engravings after his threesummer-long fieldwork. ‘A brief report on Hieroglyphs found on Bohuslän rock panels’

Brunius also declared that figurative rock art in the Nordic countries is a coastal phenomenon. His extensive inventories had revealed that the engravings in the Tanum area only appeared on specific rock panels in the landscape. Most often these were found between a quarter of a mile and three-quarters of a mile from the coast. The rock surfaces had also been carefully selected, since they were only found within certain elevations above the sea level. Moreover, Brunius often found that water seeped slowly over the engraved rocks, which leads to algae thriving on them and the rock darkens. In his later work, he, therefore, calls them ‘black-panels’ (Swe. Svarthällar, Brunius 1868). The water that ran over the rock art panels was an important locating feature, Brunius argued; these panels were actively chosen so that the figures would appear more clearly when engraved by pecking stone against stone, and so that the water could preserve the images for the future.

The title of Brunius’ work links to the scientific debate on how the Pharaonic hieroglyphs should be interpreted, which sprang up in the late 1700s and early 1800s in the wake of Napoleon’s famous expeditions to Egypt (Nordbladh 2018). Brunius regarded rock art as an archaic form of picture-writing. He argued that all languages ​​were created by trying to imitate sounds to try to communicate an idea. The words were then formed into pictures. Brunius believed that the use of images in ‘pictorial-writing’ preceded the writing with alphabetic letters, but that they followed the same laws and principles. He made clear references to similar phenomena from Ethiopia, Mexico, China, and India. The result of his appraisals, however, was disappointing. He ‘found in this comparison nothing, except the uniform simplicity, which characterises the different countries’ ways of reproducing them.’ The disappointing conclusion reveals Brunius’ archaeological quest to form a scientific methodology that aimed to place the rock art in an era before historical sources, in pre-historic times.

Brunius thought that the deliberate placement of rock engravings testified that the panels had been chosen and used by seafarers. From this, it is clear that he is influenced by the newly discovered land up-lift process that is caused by isostatic changes after the Ice Age in this part of the world (Ekman 2013; Nordlund 2001), as well as the most common motifs that dominate the engravings in Bohuslän – canoes (Coles 2005; Ling 2008).

The rock art in northern Europe could therefore not entirely be compared to hieroglyphs, but Brunius still considered rock art to be crude attempts to express concepts and ideas before people began to embrace and use alphabet writing. Of importance to his thesis was that he argued that the rock art in northern Europe preceded the use of ancient Nordic runes, which is why he thought they must be much older than any historical sources. The rock engravings are therefore significant because they speak of a time before the Æsir god Odin immigrated to the Nordic countries, a time before history (Odin’s migration to the Nordic countries and his use of runic inscriptions was thought

To embrace and document such a large number of engraved panels demanded some kind of systematic methodology. His thorough documentation process also made Brunius well acquainted with the pictorial worlds that were unfolded, and how the images were crafted. He became openly critical of previous documentation attempts, which had usually been undertaken through careless free-hand drawings (Hilfeling is an exception 51

Joakim Goldhahn here, see Nordbladh 1997, cf. Brunius 1868: 58–60). Brunius writes that: ‘Numerous examples of blunt contempt are not uncommon when the antiquarian allows his imagination to run free when scientific methods should instead be applied.’ Brunius believed that the stone media offered ‘sufficient difficulties,’ without, in addition, having to make the documentation work ‘difficult by carelessness or pure falsification.’ He then presents a detailed account of his documentation process, the first methodological discussion of its kind that we know of from northern Europe.

He also noted that the engraved images appeared better in the sunshine immediately after rain. After the panel with its engravings was cleaned and the contour of the figures was outlined with the help of a chalk, Brunius also used chalk to divide the panel into a grid system according to the old Swedish ell unite (Swe. Aln, N.B. the standard length of an aln varied between 52.5 to 64 cm in Sweden during Brunius’ time and it is not certain which one he used). The squares were then marked with numbers horizontally and vertically on the panel, whereupon the images were transferred to a grid paper by a freehand drawing (Figure 6.6). The scale used on the paper was usually one inch (Swe. Tum, these were usually about 29.7 mm, but N.B. the length of an inch did also differ in Sweden during Brunius’ time). One inch on the paper thus corresponded to an ell on the decorated rock panel. He varied the scales according to the size of the panels and the properties of the imagery, sometimes dividing the squares in quarters (Figure 6.7). Each square was then systematically

He began by removing moss, leaves and vegetation that covered the panel with a rake. He then diverted any water that ran over the panel, after which the surface was cleaned with a brush. To better perceive specific details and engravings that were shallowly pecked, he visited the site at different times during the day ‘so that the shadow and light could distinguish them from the unworked surface.’ Further: In relation to the seriousness of the searches, I submitted to the necessity to visit these sites more or less frequently. As dusk subsided, the result was the same with the help of a lantern. On these occasions, I brought chalk with which I drew the outlines. It is also good to feel with your fingertips if a line is nature’s work or if it belongs to the work of the artists; for the former is on a less regular basis than the latter.

Figure 6.6. Example of Brunius field documentations. This one from Aspelund or Tossenäng from the vicarage estate in Tanum parish, Tanum 505. N.B. This picture has been redrawn after the original field documentation (cf. Figure 7). The scale on original documentation is 1/24. Source: Pl. I in Brunius preserved manuscript from 1818, now in Antikvarisk Topografiskt Arkiv in Stockholm, Bruniussamlingen LXVI, published with their kind permission.

Figure 6.7. Example of Brunius field documentations, here Brastad 1, the so-called ‘Shoemaker,’ cf. Figure 4. This documentation was probably made in 1838 when we know Brunius visited Brastad (see Brunius 1839). Source: Pl. XXXVI in the preserved manuscript from 1818, now in Antikvarisk Topografiskt Arkiv in Stockholm, Bruniussamlingen LXVI, published with their kind permission.

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documented one by one: ‘In this way, nothing evades a watchful eye, which is almost inevitable without this proceeding; at least one cannot estimate the correct distance [between the images], which should not be neglected.’ Brunius’ accurate and scientific approach to the documentation process is also evident from the fact that he indicated the ‘clarity and depth’ of the engraved images by alternating these with lighter or darker shades; the former was more shallowly engraved, the latter deeper, and thus more distinguishable. Brunius was trying to set a new standard (Figures 6.6, 6.7).

than the written word. The lack of runes suggested the same. When even classical sources such as Strabo and Tacitus were silent about the societies that made use of rock art in northern Europe, Brunius found that the engravings must have a considerable age. He concluded that northern Europe must have been populated long before Odin’s arrival, that is, in prehistoric times, during what was labelled ‘ante-Odin times’ by contemporary scholars to Brunius (see Goldhahn 2013; 2018; 2020, for an in-depth discussion of this concept). He concluded that we cannot: ‘reject the information on these colossal [pictorial] memorials that bear testimony to an era other than the Gothic, where the remains show evidence of greater sophistication.’ In short: the images must be older than the existing historical sources, and they must, therefore, be created by some unknown people; this demanded a scientific explanation, regardless of ‘If you call them Norse or Germans, Jotar or Finns, etc., those who wanted to be immortal through the hieroglyphs.’ Brunius had started to ‘alleviate the night-black darkness that conceals our most ancient times.’

Brunius presented the first detailed description of how to document rock art, and his suggested methodology should be seen against the sincere scientific approach he set out in his ambitious fieldwork. It was the first of its kind in northern Europe, and it took about 60 years before any successor continued this time-consuming job (e.g. Baltzer 1881–1908; 1911, cf. Holmberg 1848). It is also interesting to note that the methodology that Brunius devised of documenting engravings has to a large extent been followed by his successors in northern Europe (e.g. Bertilsson 2015; Goldhahn et al. 2012; Nordbladh 1981) until the digital revolution took off during the new millennium (e.g. Horn and Potter 2018; Horn et al. 2018).

Brunius then turned to the pictures to describe the unknown people who must have existed, but whom he could not define. They preferred to settle along the coasts. They lived on hunting, fishing, and livestock. They had horses, cows, reindeer, and oxen. They also knew about farming because something similar to the ‘plough of the Romans’ was depicted on a panel at Vitlycke; a tool we today know as an ard (e.g. Bradley 2005). However, depicted reindeer, today interpreted as red deer, indicated that the land was only partially cultivated at the time the engravings were created, according to Brunius. Furthermore, depicted weapons, such as the bow and arrow, spears, axes and swords, helmets and shields, showed that the times were warlike (Figures 6.6, 6.8): ‘Rather than inhabitants, they were warriors who found sanctuary here; with weapons in hand, they often raided for metals, which they did not understand to extract from the mountains.’

Brunius dismissed previous dating attempts of the chronology of north European rock art, which up to this time mostly had relied on Classic or Nordic historical sources (cf. Goldhahn 2018). As an alternative, Brunius believed that the land-uplift process offered the most reliable scientific method for establishing the age of the rock art, something that recent research in the Tanum area has demonstrated (Ling 2008). Brunius presented his arguments over five to six pages, which shows the powerful impact that Natural Science and the discovery of the land-uplift process had in the early 19th century (Ekman 2013; Nordlund 2001). Brunius also made observations that spoke in favour of an early date of the rock art. The first was that the images were found within specific levels above the sea. The second argument was that several of his documented rock art panels were found covered by ‘a thick layer of soil’, which, for him, showed that ‘several centuries have passed so that they may have been buried in this way.’ Third, the images he documented exhibited a varying degree of weathering, ranging from images that were barely recognizable to very clear images, something that Brunius believed to indicate artworks from different times. This was in line with his thoughts on the effect of the land-uplift process. Stylistic comparisons in the artwork was not noted or thought of as a significant trait to explore.

The depicted water vessels showed many different designs and constructions according to Brunius, like boats and canoes. The vessels contained everything from one to 36 ‘rowers.’ Some boats were obviously so big that they travelled with a smaller vessel on board, described as a ‘barge.’ Others resemble the leathercovered canoes (umiak) used in Greenland. He noted the practice of decorating and adorning boats and canoes with animal heads and snake-like creatures. Only one of all the vessels had features that he interpreted as a sail. According to Brunius, the rock art was created to function as memory devices, documenting what happened after ‘these crowds who roamed the seas, returned to their homes after winning or losing battles,’

As already mentioned, Brunius argued that the lack of references to the rock art in historical sources, like the Norse Sagas, clearly indicated that they must be older 53

Joakim Goldhahn whereupon they tried to ‘retain the memory of what had happened through rock carvings, even though they had to leave some images unfinished.’

stone sculptures. We give the word to Bo Grandien (1974: 472): ‘… the interpretations of the symbolic content of the church sculptures are as detailed as determined. The author does not hesitate: a lion with a gentle attitude represents God, the Saviour, a vile Satan. A lion holding a sinner between his frames and swinging his kite tail is also a picture of the Devil’ (translated here).

Brunius first-hand knowledge of a large corpus of rock engravings made him very sensitive, or receptive, about how the imagery should be interpreted, which probably also reflects his thoughts that they served as a kind of pictorial-writing. He envisioned that depicted soles of shoes indicated a good outcome of a battle, while a motif depicting unclothed feet indicated a loss. The latter he tried to prove by referring to his observation that bare foot motifs often were accompanied by ‘a small ship, with irregular lines likely to represent shipwrecks.’ Similarly, depicted hares indicate fear; snakes, cunning beings; oxen, strength; and so on. So-called wheel cross figures were interpreted as shields, probably because some of the anthropomorphic beings he documented are depicted with wheel-cross-like bodies, but also as protective signs.

The rock art was also used for social interpretations. A ruling chief was depicted larger and often surrounded by his ‘flock’; that is, his warriors. The former was rendered with broad shoulders, large hands and with, above all, very powerful legs, which were probably meant to ‘reflect a superior strength.’ Other rock art images were interpreted as regular depictions of naval battles, duels, and other war activities: ‘Weapons are raised against weapons, warriors are wounding and being wounded, killing and getting killed.’ Brunius also identified mediators between the battling forces. Cup marks that surrounded these battle scenes marked tombs or burial monuments erected in memory of the dead. The size of the cup marks, or tombs, marked the status of the fallen warrior. Large cup marks indicated large graves of powerful men, and vice versa (Figure 6.8). The cup marks could also be made to sacrifice blood in, all according to Brunius.

Brunius was probably inspirited by his theological education in reading in symbols and aphorism into the images. He expressed similar intricate thoughts later in life when discussing the interpretations of medieval

Brunius identifies bride robbery as a prime reason for the feuds being depicted on the black panels in Bohuslän: ‘... connections of this kind gave rise to hatred, retribution, and bloodshed. Nothing was easier than plundering those who were blinded by love.’ This interpretation is presented by Brunius as an explanation to all depicted anthropomorphic beings with erected phallus (Figures 6.6–6.9): ‘Heroes on land and at sea’ worshiped the Roman god Priape. The times were raw and brutish: ‘Sometimes everyone fights with easy-going intentions, sometimes some of them seem to, judging by their more decent exterior, coldly defend the cause of a raped innocent virgin; therefore, they have practiced less noble revenge than a letter of feuds.’ Brunius read the engendered images quite literally. He found ‘tender couples’ who, despite ‘their weak and defenceless situation’, read when they copulated, were attacked ‘from afar’ by ‘a treacherous man with a bow.’ Another ‘slandered man [...] sneaks up’ to kill ‘a criminal’ who has raped the former’s spouse (Figure 6.8). Other images showed ‘low sensuality’ but everything suggested that ‘our ancestors’ had ‘very low morale and brutish customs.’ Figure 6.8. Example of ‘raw’ and ‘brutish’ rock engravings from the black panels in Bohuslän, this one at Kolstads Utmark (Tanum 273 at Varlös, also Brunius 1868: Pl. V). The scale on original documentation is 1/24. Source: Brunius 1818, Pl. XV, now in Antikvarisk Topografiskt Arkiv in Stockholm, Bruniussamlingen LXVI, published with their kind permission.

Brunius had a two-pronged attitude to these ‘raw’ images. On the one hand, he argued that the images should be documented scientifically, but on the other hand, he then found it difficult to relate to the indecent content of the imagery. He was more benevolent to images showing ‘gymnastic exercises,’ which was a 54

Carl Georg Brunius’ Trailblazing Rock Art Thesis from 1818

taking omens from birds and horses, which he was able to find depicted on certain rock panels (Figure 6.9): ‘In many places, you see carved birds, which are partly surrounded by disasters, and predicting the disaster with their beaks [...] horses are also common and they must doubtless be taken for those horses who were used to predict the future.’ This interpretation has only gained a renaissance in recent times (Goldhahn 2019). In a similar vein, Brunius interpreted the depictions on the well-known slabs 7 and 8 of Bredarör on Kivik as scenes showing human sacrifices to ‘foretell a related war’ or as ‘a sacrifice in honour of the gods’ (Figure 6.4). Discussion and conclusion Brunius’ study was the first systematic attempt to explore north European rock art with the help of formal archaeological methods. He lamented that he had not been able to rely on ‘some learned predecessors’ and he said that the darkness he had embraced would be dispelled by future generations of rock art scholars. Nevertheless, Brunius had broken a new path. First, we can note that Brunius’ thesis of 1818 contains many of the central themes that later scholars developed and deepened. His focus on i) the reliability of rock art documentations, ii) the age and chronology of the images, and iii) the interpretation and significance of the images, probably encompass 99% of everything that has ever been written about rock art in northern Europe. The questions might be the same but the answers diverge. His thesis was novel as it was built on first-hand experience of the corpus he studied, combined into a comprehensive holistic approach, from the survey and documentation in the field to the presented interpretations. The dissertation is also important from a historical perspective as it clearly shows that we cannot rely solely on published material when we try to write the history of rock art research.

Figure 6.9. Example rock engravings from the black panels in Bohuslän showing people taking omens from birds (Tanum 9 at Vitlycke). Source: Brunius 1868, Pl. XV. The scale on original documentation is 1/24.

celebrated body practice in the early 1800s. Some of these images showed men standing on their heads, others pressing their hands against each other, others appearing to perform more audacious exercises such as somersaults. ‘A man carries a tremendous tree trunk to show his physical strength, to which, at that time, people put a greater value than at present,’ he philosophises. Other people on the engraved rock panels seemed to dance.

Brunius’ text was the second dissertation that discussed the importance of rock art in northern Europe, and the first to do so based on solid fieldwork. The sheer scope of the study, which was based on 65 documented panels with engravings, meant that Brunius had to approach his source material systematically. To achieve his goal, he considered it necessary to define a methodology, a well-defined process that aimed to be able to present reliable documentation of the artworks. His emphasis on the importance of scientific scale documentation only found a successor c. 60 years later (Baltzer 1881– 1908; 1911). Most contemporary scholars remained in their libraries (e.g. Holmberg 1848, cf. Nicklasson 2011a; 2011b; 2012).

Of all classical writers, Brunius considered Tacitus to be the most credible. He paid special attention to the passages in his Germania that mentioned that the people of North Europe were virtuous and practiced the custom of decent marriages. This could only mean that the ‘raw rock carvings’ must be much older than the Roman Empire (Figure 6.8). He also identified the point that Tacitus wrote of the people in Germania

Brunius’ extensive fieldwork also puts our finger on the importance of becoming acquainted with the corpus we 55

Joakim Goldhahn study if we try to find out the meaning and significance of rock art. As Brunius showed, it is a time-consuming process. In the light of his thesis as a clear example, it is distressing that we still, to this very day, encounter scholars that have not visited the rock art corpus they interpret, or where the advocated interpretation relies on centuries-old documentations. More so, one of the most important characteristics of the rock art phenomenon is that they are – usually – found where they were crafted; their placement in the landscape is thus crucial for how we should approach and interpret them (Goldhahn 2010). Brunius had an advantage here because he moved in the familiar landscape of his childhood. As a result, he came to observe the close spatial relationship between burial monuments and rock art found in Bohuslän, and in other similar rock art areas in northern Europe (e.g. Goldhahn 2012; Nordbladh 1980; Wrigglesworth 2011).

that we can study distinct time-periods that are much older than historical sources, a prehistory – ‘ante-Odintimes’ (e.g. Goldhahn 2013; 2018; 2020; Nicklasson 2011b). This brave attempt might be yet another reason for his thesis not being published; Brunius conducted archaeological research before archaeology was defined as a science (cf. Baudou 2004; Gräslund 1987; Nicklasson 2011a, 2012; Rowley-Conwy 2007). We find several first-hand observations of Brunius about rock art that still hold validity, which probably reflects that he became well-acquainted with the material culture he studied. This applies to the location of the images in the landscape, where black panels overflowed with water appear to have been a localizing factor. His emphasis on visiting the rock art sites at different times during the day, so that one can utilise different lighting conditions, not to mentioning visiting the places at different times of the year, is still of paramount importance. As new digital methodologies efficiently capture the smallest alternation on the decorated panels, the use of chalk and artificial light is no longer a necessity for scientific documentations (Horn and Potter 2018; Horn et al. 2018). However, nocturnal exercises are still important for the interpretative work, and our search for the meaning and significance of the stone media (Goldhahn 2019: 249–272). Last, but not least, Brunius contributed with an insight that the isostatic movement is of the utmost importance in understanding the meaning and chronology of the images. However, it was not until the 21st century before this insight began to bear fruit (Ling 2008; Nimura 2016).

The faithful documentation process was important for Brunius. Previous and some subsequent documentation work avoided piquant details (e.g. Holmberg 1848; see also Nordbladh 1981), not least all the naked men with erect phallus (Figures 6.6–6.9). Brunius was apprehensive about this ‘raw’ imagery, and consistently used wording intended to distract attention, like ‘a homme a priape.’ He found ‘frivolous,’ ‘crude,’ and ‘immoral’ images that showed ‘the most ungracious associations’ and ‘most vile abominations.’ In a letter from Brunius to Liljegren dated 1837, which is cited by Grandien (1974: 55), he wonders if the ‘rudest representations’ really can be printed even though they are ‘described with the greatest caution?’ The rude depictions meant that Brunius could not persuade himself to believe that the rock art was made by noble Norse people – the German-speaking Vikings that had started to be admired by scholars endorsing Romanticism (Molin 2003; Nicklasson 2012). Somewhat troubled, Brunius’ letter continues: ‘These scenes cannot belong to the ordinary Germanic tribe, unless one must, as one must, believe Tacitus’s words about their morality. I have much reason to believe that the rock carvings are remains after Lapps or Huns’ (cited in Grandien 1974: 55, my translations).

Brunius’ unpublished thesis of 1818 was – without a doubt – a door opener, a turning point, and it contributed immensely to the laborious process ‘To alleviate the night-black darkness that conceals our most ancient times.’ Epilogue Sometime during his fieldwork in 1817 Brunius made an engraving in honour of his father Gomer. The inscription is in the form of a ‘distich’, which is a twoline verse in which a classical hexameter is followed by a pentameter; a clear show-off to display Brunius’ great skill in Latin. The commemoration, which was engraved on a rock art panel, also showing some cupmarks and two anthropomorphic figures, situated on the vicarage estate (Figure 6.10), reads as follows:

A similar puritan concern can be found in Brunius’ 1868 monograph, in which the raw images, which were interpreted to commemorate amorous adventures and warlike achievements, were taken as evidence for them having been created during a crude and unromantic era in human history – The Stone Age. We may here find another reason why Brunius’ thesis from 1818 never was published; the immoral images aroused reluctance. More importantly, by arguing that the rock engravings belonged to a time before Taçitus’ Germania and when Odin migrated to northern Europe, Brunius’ study became one of the first systematic attempts to argue

BRUNIUS HÆC, BRUNI, SCULPSIT TIBI DISTICHA VATES, QUI CAROLINEI PARS QUOTACUNQUE CHORI EST. DOCTORINA CLARUS, GENITOR, STUDIOQUE COLENDI 56

Carl Georg Brunius’ Trailblazing Rock Art Thesis from 1818

Figure 6.10. Brunius own rock inscription in Latin honouring his father Gomer, Tanum 178. N.B. the fragmented anthropomorphic human figure, down to the left, and the cup marks on the top of the panel. Frottage made by Underslös museum. Source: Swedish Rock Art Archive (www.shfa.se), published with their kind permissions.

BIS TANI PASTOR, RITE CREARIS EQUES. VARBURGUM VITAM TRIBUIT SLÆTOCHRA PUELLAM, BISQUE SUPER TIBI SEX FILIUS UNUS ERAT. 1817

References Andrén, A. 2020. Carl Georg Brunius (1772–1869), in A-S. Gräslund (ed.) Svenska arkeologer: 29–33. Uppsala: Acta Academiae Regiae Gustavi Adolpi CLVIII. Bahn, P.G. 1998. Prehistoric Art. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Baltzer, L. 1881–1908. Hällristningar från Bohuslän/Glyphes des rochers du Bohuslän (Suède). Bd 1–15. Göteborg. Baltzer, L. 1911.  Några af de Viktigaste Hällristningarna samt en del af de Fasta Fornminnena i Bohuslän. Göteborg. Baudou, E. 2004. Den Nordiska Arkeologin – Historia och Tolkningar. Stockholm: Kungl. Vitterhets Historie och Antikvitets Akademien. Bertilsson, U. 2015. From folk oddities and remarkable relics to scientific substratum: 135 years of changing perceptions on the rock carvings in Tanum, northern Bohuslän, Sweden, in P. Skoglund, J. Ling, and U. Bertilsson (eds) Picturing the Bronze Age: 5–20. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Bradley, R. 2005. Ritual and Domestic Life in Prehistoric Europe. London: Routledge. Brunius, C.G.. 1818. Rapport Succinct sur les Hieroglyphes trouvés sur les Rochers de la Province de Bohus, présenté son Excellence Monsieur le Comte d’Engeström etc. Unpubliched manuscript in Antikvariskt Topografiskt Arkiv in Stockholm, Bruniussamlingen Bd LXVI, 5–37. Brunius, C.G. 1822. De Diis Arctois Libri Sex. Stockholm.

A crude English translation can be offered: The poet Brunius, who is part of the Caroline Choir, carved this distich, for you Brunius, who is famous for your teaching, and is a father, interested cultivator, and pastor of Tanum’s two parishes, and appointed knight in proper order. Varburgh gave you life, Slättåkra a girl, and besides twelve children you had a son. 1817. Today, following the Swedish Cultural Heritage Law, Brunius’ commemoration is considered to be an ‘ancient remain’, an archaeological site, known to us as Tanum 178 (www.fmis.raa.se). As such, it is protected by law for further generations to enjoy. Acknowledgements Thanks to the personnel at Carolina Rediviva at Uppsala University, Antikvariskt Topografiskt Arkiv in Stockholm, and Professor Emeritus Jarl Nordbladh for help and inspiration. Special thanks to Judith Crawford for reviewing my English.

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Joakim Goldhahn Brunius, C.G. 1836. Nordens Äldsta Metropolitankyrka, eller, Historisk och Arkitektonisk Beskrifning öfver Lunds Domkyrka. Lund: Berling. Brunius, C.G. 1839. Antiquarisk och Arkitektonisk Resa genom Halland, Bohuslän, Dalsland, Wermland och Westergötland, år 1838. Lund. Brunius, C.G. 1850. Skånes konsthistoria för medeltiden. Lund: Gleerup. Brunius, C.G. 1854. Nordens Äldsta Metropolitankyrka, eller, Historisk och Arkitektonisk Beskrifning öfver Lunds Domkyrka. Omarb. och Mycket Tillökt Uppl. Lund: Gleerup. Brunius, C.G. 1857. Poemata, partim iam ante, partim nunc primum edita. Lund. Brunius, C.G. 1868. Försök till Förklaringar öfver Hällristningarna med Femton Plancher. Lund. Coles, J.M. 2005. Shadows of a Northern Past: Rock Carvings of Bohuslän and Østfold. Oxford: Oxbow Books. David, B. and I. McNiven (eds) 2018. The Oxford Handbook of the Archaeology and Anthropology of Rock Art. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Ekman, M. 2013. An Investigation of Celsius’ Pioneering Determination of the Fennoscandian Land Uplift Rate, and of his Mean Sea Level Mark. Sund: Summer Institute for Historical Geophysics. Fehrman, C. and H. Westling 1993. Lärdomens Lund: Universitetets Historia under 325 år. Lund: Lund University Press. Forssenius, A.C. and S. Lagerbring. 1780. Specimen Historicum de Monumento Kivikensi. Lund. von Friesen, O. 1924. Rö-stenen i Bohuslän och Runorna i Norden under Folkvandringstiden. Uppsala: Lundequistska bokhandel. Goldhahn, J. 2009. Bredarör on Kivik: A monumental cairn and the history of its interpretation. Antiquity 83: 359–371. Goldhahn, J. 2010. Emplacement and the hau of rock art, in J. Goldhahn, I. Fuglestvedt and A.M. Jones (eds) Changing Pictures – Rock Art Traditions and Visions in Northernmost Europe: 107–126. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Goldhahn, J. 2011. Sveriges äldsta och norra Europas näst äldsta hällbildsdokumentationer – en notis om Johannis Haquini Rhezelius antikvariska resa till Öland och Småland 1634. Fornvännen 106 (1): 1–7. Goldhahn, J. 2012. In the wake of a voyager: Feet, boats and death rituals in the north European Bronze Age, in A.M. Jones, J. Pollard, M.J. Allen and J. Gardiner (eds) Image, Memory and Monumentality: Archaeological Engagements with the Material Eorld: A Celebration of the Academic Achievements of Professor Richard Bradley: 218–232. London: Prehistoric Society’s Research Paper 5. Goldhahn, J. 2013. Bredarör på Kivik – En Arkeologisk Odyssé. Kalmar: Linnæus University, Kalmar Studies in Archaeology 9. Goldhahn, J. 2018. To let mute stones speak – on the becoming of archaeology, in E. Meijer and J. Dodd

(eds) Giving the Past a Future: Essays in Archaeology and Rock Art Studies in Honour of Dr. fil. h.c. Gerhard Milstreu: 37–57. Oxford: Archaeopress. Goldhahn, J. 2019. Birds in the Bronze Age: A North European Perspective. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Goldhahn, J. 2020. Monumento Kiwikensi: En AnitArkeologisk Avhandling från 1780. Kalmar: Linnæus University, Kalmar Studies in Archaeology XV. Goldhahn, J., I. Fuglestvedt, and A.M. Jones. 2010. Changing pictures – an introduction, in J, Goldhahn, I. Fuglestvedt, and A.M. Jones (eds) Changing pictures – rock art traditions and visions in northernmost Europe: 1–22. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Goldhahn, J., R. Wikell, S.-G. Broström and K. Ihrestam 2012. Bronsålderns hällbilder i Tjust. Tjustbygden 2011: 35–68. Grandien, B. 1974. Drömmen om Medeltiden: Carl Georg Brunius som Byggmästare och Idéförmedlare. Stockholm: Nordiska Museets Handlingar 82. Gräslund, B. 1987. The Birth of Prehistoric Chronology: Dating Methods and Dating Systems in NineteenthCentury Scandinavian Archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Grønvik, O. 1990. Der Runenstein von Tanum – ein Religionsgeschichtliches Denkmal aus urnordischer Zeit, in T. Ahlbäck (ed) Old Norse and Finnish Religions and Cultic Place-Names (Scripta Instituti Donneriani Aboensis 13): 273–293. Åbo: Donner Institute for Research in Religious and Cultural History. Hallström, G. 1918. Tanums härads bronsåldersgravar. Göteborg: Göteborgs och Bohusläns Fornminnesförening. Hedeager, L. 2011. Iron Age Myth and Materiality: An Archaeology of Scandinavia AD 400–1000. London: Routledge. Holmberg, A.E. 1848. Skandinaviens hällristningar, arkeologisk afhandling. Stockholm: P. G. Berg. Hildebrand, B. 1937. C.J. Thomsen och Hans Lärda Förbindelser i Sverige 1816–1837: Bidrag till den Nordiska Forn- och Hävdaforskningens Historia. Bd 1. Stockholm: Wahlström & Widstrand. Hildebrand, B. 1938. C.J. Thomsen och Hans Lärda Förbindelser i Sverige 1816–1837: Bidrag till den Nordiska Forn- och Hävdaforskningens Historia. Bd 2. Stockholm: Wahlström & Widstrand. Horn, C. and R. Potter. 2018. Transforming the rocks – time and rock art in Bohuslän, Sweden. European Journal of Archaeology 21 (3): 361–384. Horn, C., J. Ling, U. Bertilsson and R. Potter. 2018. All means necessary – 2.5D and 3D recording of surfaces in the study of southern Scandinavian rock art. Open Archaeology 4: 81–96. Hygen, A.-S. and L. Bengtsson. 2000.  Rock Carvings in the Borderlands: Bohuslän and Østfold. Sävedalen: Warne in cooperation with the Swedish National Heritage Board. Jensen, J. 1992. Thomsens Museum: Historien om Nationalmuseet. København: Gyldendal. 58

Carl Georg Brunius’ Trailblazing Rock Art Thesis from 1818

Jensen, O.W. 2002. Forntid i Historien: En Arkeologihistorisk studie av Synen på Forntid och Forntida Lämningar, från Medeltiden till och med Förupplysningen. Göteborg: Göteborg University, Gotarc Series B, Gothenburg Archaeological Theses 19. Lagerbring, S. 1746. Disqvisitio Historica, Blekingiæ Partem Specialem Adumbrans, de Nomarchia Orientali, (Östrahärad) quam, Venia Amplissimi Senatus Philosophici sub Præsidio dni. Sven Bring ... Die [tomrum] Decembr. MDCCXLVI. L. H. Q. C. Publice Examinandam Sistit Adam Julius Kling, Blekingus. Lund. Ling, J. 2008. Elevated Rock Art: Towards a Maritime Understanding of Rock Art in Northern Bohuslän, Sweden. Göteborg: Göteborg University, Gotarc Serie B, Archaeological Thesis 49. Molin, T. 2003. Den Rätta Tidens Mått: Göthiska Förbundet, Fornforskningen och det Antikvariska Landskapet. Umeå: Skrifter från Forskningsprogrammet Landskapet som Arena 6. Nicklasson, P. 2011a. Att Aldrig Vandra Vill: Johan Haquin Wallman – Sveriges Förste Arkeolog. Lund: Lund University, Acta Archaeologica Lundensia, Series Prima in 4°, No 31. Nicklasson, P. 2011b. Magnus Bruzelius, Jacob Adlerbeth and the invention of the Stone Age. Lund Archaeological Review 16: 61–83. Nicklasson, P. 2012. Baronens Tårar: Arkeologi och Passion i Götiska Förbundet. Landskrona: Authors Own Publishing. Nicklasson, P. 2018. Från Stonehenge till Hagbards galge: Om Sven Nilsson, Bronsålder och Fenicier. Lund: Lund University, Acta Archaeologica Lundensia, Series Prima in 4°, No. 35. Nimura, C. 2016. Prehistoric Rock Art in Scandinavia: Agency and Environmental Change. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Nordbladh, J. 1980. Glyfer och Rum Kring Hällristningar i Kville. Göteborg: Göteborg University, Akademisk avhandling, utgiven vid institutionen för arkeologi, Göteborgs universitet. Nordbladh, J. 1981. Knowledge and information in Swedish petroglyph documentation, in C.-A. Moberg (ed.) Similar finds? Similar interpretations?: G1–79. Göteborg: Göteborgs University, Department of Archaeology. Nordbladh, J 1995. The history of Scandinavian rock art research as a corpus of knowledge and practice, in K. Helskog and B. Olsen (eds) Perceiving rock art: Social and political perspective: 23–34. Oslo: Novus Forlag. Nordbladh, J. 1997. Conducteuren C. G. G. Hilfeling och hans samtid, in A. Åkerlund, S. Bergh, J. Nordbladh and J. Taffinder (eds) Till Gunborg – arkeologiska samtal: 527–537. Stockholm: Stockholm University, Stockholm Archaeological Reports 33. Nordbladh, J. 2002. How to organize oneself within history: Pehr Tham and his relation to antiquity at the end of the 18th century. Antiquity 76: 141– 150.

Nordbladh, J. 2015. Carl Georg Brunius: An early nineteenth-century pioneer in Swedish petroglyph research, in P. Skoglund, J. Ling and U. Bertilsson (eds) Picturing the Bronze Age: 121–28. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Nordbladh, J. 2018. The sensitive finger, the observing eye and the sensation of a place, in E. Meijer and J. Dodd (eds) Giving the Past a Future: Essays in Archaeology and Rock Art Studies in Honour of Dr. fil. h.c. Gerhard Milstreu: 28–36. Oxford: Archaeopress. Nordlund, C. 2001. Det Upphöjda Landet: Vetenskapen, Landhöjningsfrågan och Kartläggningen av Sveriges Förflutna, 1860–1930. Umeå: Umeå University, Skrifter från Forskningsprogrammet Landskapet som Arena 3. McDonald, J. and P.Veth (eds) 2012. A Companion to Rock Art. Chicester: Wiley-Blackwell. Regnéll, G. (ed.) 1983. Sven Nilsson: En Lärd i 1800-talets Lund. Lund: Kungl. Fysiografiska Sällskapet i Lund. Rowley-Conwy, P. 2007. From Genesis to Prehistory: The Archaeological Three Age System and its Contested Reception in Denmark, Britain, and Ireland. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Schnapp, A. 1996. The Discovery of the Past: The Origins of Archaeology. London: British Museum Press. Sjöborg, N.-H. 1797. Jnledning til Kännedom af Fäderneslandets Antiquiteter. Lund: Tryckt hos professor J: Lundblad år 1797 på författarens bekostnad. Sjöborg, N.H. 1815a. Försök till en Nomenklatur för Nordiska Fornlemningar. Stockholm: Carl Delén. Sjöborg, N.H. 1815b. De i Danmark Ådagalagde Bemödanden och Vidtagne Författningar till Antiquiteters Upptäckande, Vård och Bibehållande, Jemförde med Svenskars Åtgärd vid denna del af Nordens historia. Lund: Berlingska Boktryckeriet. Sjöborg, N.H. 1815c. Uppgift på Fornlemningars Kännetecken, Enligt Kongl. Maj:ts Nådiga Instruktion, efter Förutgången Granskning af desz Witterhets, Historie- och Antiqvitets Akademi. Stockholm: Carl Delén. Sjögren, K-G. 2003. “Mångfalldige Uhrminnes Grafvar:” Megalitgravar och Samhälle i Västsverige. Göteborg: Göteborg University, Gotarc Series B, Gothenburg Archaeological Theses 24. Suhm, P.F. 1784. Samlinger til den Danske Historie 2 (3). Kiöbenhavn. Stjernquist, B. 2005. The Historical Museum and Archaeological Research at Lund University 1805–2005. Lund: University of Lund, Historical Museum. Tham, P. 1794. Götiska Monumenter. Stockholm. Thordeman, B. 1924. Tvenne hundraåriga gravplaner. Fornvännen 19: 245–258. Trigger, B.G. 2006. A History of Archaeological Thought. 2nd ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Whitley, D.S. (ed.) 2001. Handbook of Rock Art Research. Walnut Creek: AltaMira Press. 59

Joakim Goldhahn Wrigglesworth, M. 2011. Finding Your Place: Rock Art and Local Identity in West Norway. Bergen: Bergen University, Department of Archaeology.

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Chapter 7

History of the study of schematic rock art in Spain Margarita Díaz-Andreu Abstract In Spain much attention has been paid to the discovery and theories of Upper Palaeolithic art (Breuil 1952; Drouot 1973; Jordá 1969; Ucko and Rosenfeld 1967, amongst the earliest, and Moro & González Morales 2013, Palacio 2017 amongst the most recent ones). A fair amount of literature has also been written on the discovery and the different theories related to Levantine art (Almagro 1964; Beltrán 1986–87; Díaz-Andreu 2002; 2012; Ripoll 1997). In 1997 Ripoll wrote the history of schematic rock art up to 1914, but the later history is still a pending subject of study. In this paper the development of the study of this rock art tradition will be analysed, paying attention to major researchers, topics dealt with, and phases of research. A social history of who has been interested in schematic rock art will be undertaken, comparing whether the professional background of rock art researchers working on this rock art tradition is different to that of others interested in other fields of archaeological research. The impact of theory on the study of schematic rock art will also be reviewed, assessing whether ideas developed in other areas of archaeology have permeated the way in which research on schematic rock art has been undertaken in Spain.

This chapter explores the history of schematic rock art studies on the Iberian Peninsula and complements my previous work on the history of Levantine art studies (Díaz-Andreu 2012a). It focuses on both schematic paintings and carvings, only excluding those considered as Atlantic rock art, which is a subject extensive enough to deserve particular attention elsewhere. A diachronic scheme will be followed, beginning with the pioneers from the seventeenth to the nineteenth centuries. In the early years of the twentieth century, renewed interest in Upper Paleolithic art brought Henri Breuil, a rising star in rock art studies, to Spain. In the following two decades the French archaeologist focused much of his effort on the discovery of new schematic rock art sites. His many articles, and those of a few others, resulted in the publication of five large volumes covering all the known sites with this style. A third section of this article will assess the period after the Spanish Civil War, when schematic art became the handmaiden of rock art studies. At that time, most of the major specialists published on the other styles and only referred to schematic art as the degeneration of the Levantine style. The exceptions to this were Pilar Acosta’s 1968 doctoral thesis, later on published as a book, and the First International Colloquium on Schematic Art on the Iberian Peninsula held in Salamanca in 1982. Powerful Pictures (Archaeopress 2022): 61–75

This account of the history of schematic rock art studies ends with an explanation of the effect of the discovery of machroschematic art and how, in the last few decades, there has been a marked increase in the number of scholars interested in all rock art styles, including schematic art. This has led to a growth in the diversification of the subjects dealt with and the techniques applied. This boost is partly a consequence of the inscription of the Rock Art of the Mediterranean Basin on the Iberian Peninsula (ARAMPI) on the World Heritage List in 1998. The pioneers: before scientific (sixteenth to nineteenth centuries)

archaeology

The discourse on the past that emerged in the Renaissance mainly referred to the classical period, but very soon its innovative way of looking at history influenced scholars’ gaze. As Alain Schnapp masterfully showed (Schnapp 1996), early on in the process, prehistoric objects and sites attracted the attention of antiquarians. Such people were mainly concentrated in countries with sufficient economic means and included the Early Modern empires of Portugal and Spain. Intellectual curiosity led a few of them to wonder about rock art, although the first ones we know of were not men of science, but a bishop and a man of letters. Regarding the bishop, there is a document dated in in 1445 that explains that the bishop of the diocese of Valencia, Alfonso Borja, forbade the celebration of mass in a cave whose walls depicted painted horses (Hernández Pérez eta al. 2000: 7). The second mention to rock art is by acclaimed playwright Lope de Vega (1562-1635). In his play Las Batuecas del Duque de Alba, written in 1597 but published in 1633, he referred to the Las Batuecas valley, alluding at a particular point in the play to ‘houses’ painted with wild animals of a type that did not exist any longer. This was seen by one of the other characters in the play as a sign that other people had dwelled in the area, with a third replying that the paintings had been made by the ancestors of the people then living there (Vega 1633, verses 500–520). Lope de Vega’s somewhat difficult-to-read mention of rock art was only followed a century later by a much more academic source, that of Father Jeronymo (or, as it is spelled today, Jerónimo), Contador de Argote (1676-1749). He was a cleric and a member of the Royal

Margarita Díaz-Andreu

Figure 7.1. Motifs at Cachão da Rapa after Jerónimo Contador de Argote (1738: 233).

Academy of Portuguese History. In his second volume of the Memories for the Ecclesiastic History of the Archbishopric of Braga (Argote 1734) he included a piece of information that he had found in an earlier document dated 1721. This referred to the rock art site of Cachão da Rapa, near Bragança in northern Portugal. At that place, the earlier document stated, painted motifs in red and blue could be found (Argote 1734: 486–489; 1738: 232–234) (Figure 7.1). As he explained:

are not as many [as needed for a chessboard], nor are they in two colors. There are no white and black squares, but the color is a dark red and to the sides some seem to be blue… The plebs and, what is more, some noblemen and scholars, understand that these figures renewed themselves every year on the day of St John the Baptist in the morning, when they appear brighter; I regard this as a hallucination of the sight

Near Cachão da Rapa, on the right bank of the River Douro, at a distance of about twenty paces from the river, there is a cliff. This cliff is all covered with moss except in one part that is very smooth… On this smooth face several figures have been drawn with different colors… some are squares, but it is not possible to judge whether others are hieroglyphics or letters. The squares partly look like those of a chessboard, but they are partly different, because they

(Argote 1738: 232–234, my translation). The eighteenth century gave us not only the comments by Contador de Argote, but also by two other authors: Antonio Ponz and Fernando José López de Cárdenas, the latter better known as the ‘Cura de Montoro’ (the priest of the Montoro parish). An enlightened scholar and traveler, Antonio Ponz (1725-1792) wrote a seventeenvolume oeuvre with the title of Viaje de España (Travels 62

History of the study of schematic rock art in Spain

through Spain) in which rock art was only mentioned once. Like Lope de Vega more than 150 years earlier, Ponz referred to the existence of rock art at Las Batuecas. He explained that

1984: 17). The manuscript was deposited in the Royal Academy of History and, although never published, it was used and became known to many later scholars who talked about the recordings in their publications. They were first mentioned in the weekly learned magazine Semanario Pintoresco Español (Anonymous 1846; Ramírez de las Casas Deza 1844: 158–159), in the General Dictionary by Madoz (1845–50, Vol 8: 201–202) and, finally, by the scholar, Manuel de Góngora, who also had access to them (Nieto Gallo 1984; 1984–85). In the nineteenth century another discovery of schematic rock art took place in the Portell de les Lletres (Rojals, Montblanc, Tarragona). The information about this was sent by bishop Félix Torres i Amat (1772-1847) who in 1830 sent a report to the Royal Academy of History describing the discovery. They were soon forgotten until their final publication (Vilaseca 1944).

After crossing the river by what is called the Sepulcher of King Don Sebastian and walking towards the convent, it is possible to see a place called the Painted Goats [Las Cabras Pintadas]. The surface is as perpendicular as house walls with its corners and right angles. In it there is a series of very poorly made figures that were created by shepherds with ochre, that seem to represent goats. It is also said that years ago there was a sign that read ‘whoever lives in this land, must handle goats and beehives’. It is very cumbersome to go up to the site of the painted goats.

Manuel de Góngora (1822-1884) was on the cusp between pre-scientific and scientific archaeology. He was a lawyer who changed career and became a professor of history at the University of Granada in 1860 (G. Aranda in Díaz-Andreu, Mora, and Cortadella 2009: 303–304). In his book Prehistoric Antiquities of Andalusia (1868) he included the information about the rock art of Fuencaliente that, although not located in Andalusia, was geographically very close. He explained that he had been able to read López de Cárdenas’ manuscript thanks to a copy the academician Aureliano Fernandez-Guerra kept in his own home. He compared these paintings to those of another site in Andalusia, the rock shelter of Los Letreros in the municipality of Vélez Blanco (Almería) (Góngora and Martínez 1868: 70–77) (Figure 7.2).

(Ponz 1778: 188-189, my translation) The third individual to write about rock art in eighteenth-century Spain and Portugal was the ‘Cura de Montoro’. In 1776, he received a royal commission to search for finds for the Royal Cabinet of Natural History that was being set up at that time in Madrid. This resulted in the description of the schematic rock art at the La Peña Escrita and La Batanera sites, both in Fuencaliente, Ciudad Real. In a manuscript dated 1783, the rock art was attributed to ‘the Phoenicians or Carthaginians settled in [the ancient towns of] Castulo, Iliturgis and Epora’. They had made these representations ‘in order to worship their gods in this place, stamping their signs, attributes and hieroglyphs on it’ (in Nieto Gallo

Figure 7.2. Los Letreros. a. Engraving of the shelter and plan of motif location by Góngora (1868, Figs. 79–80); b–d. Motifs published by Góngora (1868, Figs. 81–82, 85–87).

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Margarita Díaz-Andreu (Albacete) (Balout 1963: 30). He also visited Gibraltar, Játiva and Ibiza on a ‘special mission’ in 1917. In 1918, he toured Granada, Málaga, Almería and again visited Las Batuecas. Before returning to France in 1919, he went back to Gibraltar and the Basque Country (Balout 1963: 30). Years later Breuil explained to Ripoll that:

The first generation of professionals (1900–1936) The discovery of Paleolithic art took place just before Góngora’s death in an area far from Andalusia, in northern Spain. However, even though the first site to be found, Altamira, was initially published in 1880 (Sanz de Sautuola 1880), it was not accepted until 1902, when the French prehistorian, Émile Cartailhac, apologised for his previous skepticism (Cartailhac 1902). This was followed by new recording of the art. The importance of the innovative work in Altamira to the history of schematic art study was that Cartailhac brought with him a young companion, Henri Breuil (Cartailhac and Breuil 1906). The young Abbé Breuil soon became aware of the existence of rock art in other parts of Spain, not only in caves, but also in the open-air, and that it could be categorised in two distinct styles. The first, now called Levantine art, was naturalistic and he dated it to the Paleolithic. The second style was more schematic and he dated it from the Azilian Period to the Iron Age. Breuil’s first works on open-air art, initially only Levantine paintings, were published soon after (Breuil 1908; 1910a, Breuil and Cabré Aguiló 1909; Cartailhac and Breuil 1908). His many articles may have inspired an Extremaduran archaeologist, Vicente Paredes, who decided to investigate Lope de Vega’s and Antonio Ponz’s mentions of rock art in the Las Batuecas region. Having ascertained its existence, he wrote a piece that reached Breuil (Paredes 1909). Breuil and an assistant, the then avocational archaeologist Juan Cabré, visited and studied the area (Breuil 1910a) (Marín Hernández 2014: 294-295). Soon after, Breuil published on the early discoveries by Fernando José López de Cárdenas at La Peña Escrita and La Batanera (Breuil 1912).

Taking advantage of a period of demobilization, I was able to organise a two-month trip through Extremadura in 1916. Other rock art tracings were made during shorter stays: I returned to Vélez-Blanco in 1912, 1913 and 1916; to Las Batuecas in 1915 and 1918; to the province of Cádiz in 1916, 1918 and 1919; and discovered or visited some similar painted rocks, outside those favored regions, in the provinces of Albacete, Alicante, Valencia, Burgos, Oviedo, Málaga and Granada. (Ripoll Perelló 2002: 72, my translation).

In his search for new sites – rock art and others – Breuil visited Alpera in Albacete, Almería, Gibraltar and the Sierra Morena mountains, the latter with Hugo Obermaier and Paul Wernert in 1912 (Breuil 1933a: 2). On his return journey to France he stopped over in Soria and Burgos (Balout 1963: 29; Ripoll Perelló 2002: 72). In 1913, he was back visiting sites in the Valencian region and Murcia (Breuil 1914) and also the Sierra Morena mountains, now with Cabré (Balout 1963: 29; Ripoll Perelló 2002: 72). In 1914, his main companions were Miles Burkitt and Willoughby Verner (DíazAndreu 2012b). During World War I, Breuil lived in Spain and worked as a spy for the French secret service (Delaunay 1994: 107; Ripoll Perelló 1964b: 18–20). In 1915, for example, together with Raymond Lantier, he reconnoitered the coast of Alicante monitoring the movements of German submarines and located a fuel deposit used to supply them near the Rock of Ifach (Ripoll Perelló 1994: 132, 135). Nevertheless, he combined his war duties with archaeology. In 1915, with the young Lantier, he visited Minateda, Cantabria, Las Batuecas, Málaga, Cádiz and, in 1916, the site of Alpera

Figure 7.3. Comparisons of a selection of motifs found in schematic art and others found at the Mesolithic site of Mas d’Azil (Obermaier 1925, pl. xxiii).

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History of the study of schematic rock art in Spain

Breuil published many articles about all his new discoveries in L’Anthropologie and elsewhere.

post, however, Breuil’s interest had already moved on to other areas of the world (Balout 1963: 14).

From his early publications, Breuil often referred to Mas d’Azil as a comparison for some of the schematic motifs (Breuil 1910b: 370; 1911: 119). In 1916, Hugo Obermaier further developed this idea and compared a series of motifs in schematic art with those found on Mesolithic (Azilian) pebbles (Obermaier 1916: 332, plate xix, see also Breuil 1935, Fig. 85) (Figure 7.3). Both argued that schematic art had been formed in the Capsien, an archaeological culture then thought to be Paleolithic and covering North Africa and part of the Iberian Peninsula. The motifs would have later been painted on boulders and in shelters.

The explanation about the events taking place in the 1910s and 1920s that I have just detailed above cannot be complete without making reference to the role of the CIPP director, Eduardo Hernández Pacheco, in rock art studies. He was one of the first to write about the schematic art painted on megalithic structures (Hernández Pacheco 1916). He also often wrote about on prehistoric art, publishing both on his own and with Cabré (Cabré and Hernández Pacheco 1914; Hernández Pacheco 1917; 1922; Hernández Pacheco and Cabré 1913; 1914). Hernández Pacheco would also pose the first serious challenge to Breuil’s hypothesis on the Paleolithic painting of Levantine art. This he did in his excellent study of La Cueva de la Araña (Hernández Pacheco 1924) in which he proposed that Levantine art was Mesolithic and had been replaced later on by schematic art (Hernández Pacheco 1924). However, by the time he published his chronological hypothesis his influence had clearly diminished. Two events, both of which occurred in 1922, explain this. The first was death of his protector, the Marquis of Cerralbo, the person who had been behind the founding of the CIPP. The second was Obermaier’s chair. This came to a huge blow to him given that, until then, Hernández Pacheco had been the only person responsible for teaching prehistoric archaeology at the University of Madrid and this would no longer be the case. For many years after 1924 Hernández Pacheco practically abandoned prehistory, focusing his (considerable and energetic) research on geology and paleontology. His ideas, therefore, were not disseminated among prehistorians and his chronological challenge remained forgotten until their revival by a younger generation of rock art researchers after the Spanish Civil War. Almagro in particular would identify him as a pioneer. Hernández Pacheco only published again on rock art in 1959 in a book in which he would repeat the suggestion of a Neolithic chronology for schematic art, when the highly artistic Levantine art degenerated (Hernández Pacheco 1959: 263, 302)

The great activity Breuil had displayed in Spain up until World War I ended after the war. There may have been several reasons for this. The first was a lack of funds (Breuil 1933a: 3) (due to the effect of the devaluation of the French currency, as it also happened at the Casa de Velázquez – the French institution in Spain dealing with archaeology, see Díaz-Andreu forthcoming). Secondly, he was probably hurt by the negative attitude of some Spanish archaeologists to his work. This was not in relation to schematic art, as that was not considered attractive enough under the rules of art aesthetics at the time, but to Levantine art. In 1915, one of his main collaborators, Juan Cabré, published a book on his own about Levantine art (Cabré 1915). This greatly angered Breuil, who considered his former paid assistant had betrayed his confidence and for years he wrote extremely critical reviews about this and other publications by Cabré in L’Anthropologie (Breuil 1915; 1916a; 1916b; 1916c; 1918–19; 1921). Despite the fact that Cabré was protected by one of the leaders of Spanish archaeology at the time, the Marquis of Cerralbo, this rift led him to abandon his studies of rock art (Díaz-Andreu 2012: 27–29). A third reason for Breuil’s estrangement from Spain may have been the tensions surrounding one of his main allies, the German Hugo Obermaier, in the years after World War I. The beginning of the war had made Obermaier a refugee in Spain, although he was soon provided with a job at the most important institution dealing with prehistoric archaeology in Spain, the recently created CIPP (Commission for Paleontological and Prehistoric Research) (Rasilla Vives 2004). However, in 1919 Obermaier was removed from his post due to his tense relationship with the CIPP director, the geologist and prehistorian, Eduardo Hernández Pacheco (18721965). For Obermaier, however, this ended up in the best possible way, as a chair was created for him at the University of Madrid in 1922. In this way Obermaier became responsible for training the next generation of Spanish prehistorians (Cañete Jiménez and Pelayo 2014: XXII). By the time Obermaier had secured his

Returning to Breuil, his estrangement from the Iberian Peninsula was only partial. He returned a few times although only for short trips. In 1925 he came for the so-called Council of Altamira (Hurel 2003: 4; Lanzarote Guiral 2011: 77) and in 1926 he researched the rock art of Albarracín (Obermaier and Breuil 1927). In 1931 he went to Portugal, where he located Cachão da Rapa (Breuil 1931), and returned in 1932 when he visited the eastern area of Spain (Balout 1963: 22). The year in which the last of his five volumes was published (see infra), Breuil worked with Obermaier and the painter Juan Bautista Porcar at the rock art site of Cueva Remigia (Porcar Ripollés et al. 1935) in 1935. In 1941 65

Margarita Díaz-Andreu and 1942 he visited Portugal and in 1952 he traveled with Almagro to visit mainly sites with Levantine rock art (Balout 1963: 31). Finally, Pericot convinced him to attend the IV International Congress of Prehistoric and Protohistoric Sciences held in Madrid in 1954, where he was honored as one of the key participants (Pericot 1965: 275).

but one that remained largely unknown to most. The price of the books meant that not many archaeologists were able to acquire them. The times did not help their distribution either, especially the outbreak of the Civil War in Spain in 1936, which made further research impossible and left the country in an economically difficult situation. This made the purchase of the books even more challenging.

Breuil found it very difficult to publish his large oeuvre of schematic rock art in Spain, given the huge amount of material he had compiled and the high cost of the enterprise. The context did not help: the devaluation of the French currency and the Prince of Monaco’s death in 1922, and therefore the end of his protection against Boule (Breuil 1933a: 2), the head of the center where he worked, the Institute for Human Paleontology in Paris, only made matters worse. In 1929, however, through his former British field helper, Miles Burkitt, he managed to print the volume on the schematic rock art of 83 sites in Andalusia (Breuil and Burkitt 1929). Breuil would have liked to have added Verner as an author, despite the fact that he had died in 1922, but evidently Burkitt thought otherwise and included instead the name of the translator on the cover (Ripoll Perelló 2002: 73). Between 1933 and 1935 another four volumes saw the light. Volume I of Schematic Rock Art of the Iberian Peninsula was devoted to the whole area to the north of the Tagus valley (Breuil 1933a), incorporating Las Hurdes, Las Batuecas, several sites on the Northern Plateau and in Cantabria, Asturias and Portugal. He also included carvings and paintings on megaliths and provided some examples in Ireland, France and Germany. Volume II focused on the Guadiana basin encompassing sites mainly in Badajoz, Alentejo and western Ciudad Real (Breuil 1933b). Volume III described the sites in the Sierra Morena mountains in the area between Ciudad Real and Jaén (Breuil 1933c). Finally, Volume IV described rock art sites with schematic art in the south-east and east of Spain (eastern Jaén and all the Mediterranean provinces from Granada to Tarragona and their neighboring inland provinces, Cuenca and Lleida, as well as other more distant sites such as Bragança, Salamanca, Coruña and the French Pyrenees. He also devoted a chapter to megalithic art and another to mobiliary art in which he described pottery, idols and plaques (Breuil 1935). In the last chapter he discussed the issue of chronology. Regarding this last point he mentioned that schematic art was later than Levantine art because the superimposition showed their later chronology (for example at Alpera and Monte Arabí). The parallels with the material culture pointed to its Paleolithic roots, its Azilian origins and its development up to the Bronze Age. Despite this long chronology, he suggested a Chalcolithic dating for most of the rock art (Breuil 1935: 136–150). The five volumes produced between 1929 and 1935 represented a huge step forward in the study of schematic rock art in Spain,

The second and third generation of rock art specialists (1936–1975) After the Spanish Civil War there were a few studies written by mature archaeologists on the schematic open-air rock paintings of the Northern Plateau (Cabré 1940–41) and Tarragona (Vilaseca Anguera 1944; Vilaseca Anguera and Iglesias 1943) and the megalithic art motifs clearly linked to them (Mergelina 1941–42). More influential were the publications of a younger, second generation who occupied the positions of power left vacant by the scholars who had been forced into exile. Based in Madrid there was Julio Martínez SantaOlalla, who dated Levantine rock art to the Neolithic and schematic art to the Beaker Period (Martínez SantaOlalla 1941–42: 19–20; 1946). In Barcelona, Almagro and Pericot should be mentioned. Martín Almagro Basch wrote an influential volume in the Ars Hispaniae series (Almagro Basch and García y Bellido 1946). His position as a professor at the University of Barcelona made this book key in the training of the new specialists. Almagro, perhaps influenced by the revised dating of the Capsian (Vaufrey 1947), broke with Obermaier’s and Breuil’s Paleolithic chronology for Levantine art and dated schematic art to after the end of the Levantine style, in a period he characterised by the arrival of colonisers from the Near East, initially in Almería in south-eastern Spain. These colonisers already had knowledge of metallurgy although they did not use it extensively. Regarding schematic art, he explicitly rejected Breuil’s broad chronology and instead proposed that it had two origins that had combined on the Iberian Peninsula. The first would have been a degeneration of naturalist Levantine art and the second the Eastern Mediterranean (Troy, Crete and predynastic Egypt) (Almagro Basch and García y Bellido 1946: 93–94). Almagro also published on new discoveries while insisting on maintaining his chronological theories (Almagro Basch 1949). His hypothesis of the foreign origin of Levantine art would be repeated for many years (see, for example, Bernier and Fortea 1968–69 and Jordá below). In 1950, Almagro’s senior colleague at the University of Barcelona, Luis Pericot, also published a book on rock art in Spain, Spanish Rock Art, in which he also dated schematic art to the post-Paleolithic period. However, unlike Almagro, he preferred not to assume a foreign origin for it (Pericot 1950: 48). Pericot also explicitly 66

History of the study of schematic rock art in Spain

alluded to schematic art as the decadence phase of the great prehistoric rock art of Spain (Pericot 1950: 52). His ideas were fully followed to start with by Francisco Jordá Cerdá, an archaeologist then attached to the Archaeological Service of Valencia, in his study of the rock art at Dos Aguas (Valencia), co-authored by José Alcácer Grau (Jordá Cerdá and Alcácer Grau 1951).

including, from Spain, Pericot’s one-time protector, Bosch Gimpera (who was living in exile in Mexico), Almagro, Jordá, Porcar and Ripoll, as well as others from elsewhere in Europe. Regardless of the opinion on the chronology of Levantine art – one the main issues under debate – they all agreed that schematic came later (Ripoll Perelló 1964a: xi) (Figure 7.4). Ripoll tackled the subject of chronology yet again in a conference on rock art he organised in Barcelona in 1966 (Ripoll Perelló 1968), from which schematic art in Spain was largely absent (see also Ripoll Perelló 1977). Two years later this situation even worsened, for schematic art was not discussed at the Symposium Internacional de Arte Rupestre (International Symposium of Rock Art) organised under the auspices of the UISPP and held in the north of Spain in September 1970. Instead, only Palaeolithic art was considered (Almagro Basch and García Guinea 1972).

In addition to the scholars mentioned so far there were others whose positions in academia made them less influential. Among them Manuel García Sánchez and the Swiss Jean-Christian Spanhi should be mentioned. They published a series of paintings and carvings found in the province of Granada in southern Spain, dating them to the Chalcolithic (Spanhi 1957). They linked the anthropomorphic carvings of Gorafe to the nearby Chalcolithic megalithic burial tombs (García Sanchez and Spanhi 1958; Spahni and García Sánchez 1958). In another study, García Sánchez expanded the chronology to the Neolithic for the case of the more naturalistic motifs, although he continued to definitively date the more abstract motifs to the Chalcolithic (García Sánchez and Pellicer 1959).

In 1968 an important publication saw the light; it was the product of Pilar Acosta’s (1938–2006) PhD dissertation on The Schematic Rock Art in Spain. In the introduction she indicated the new discoveries made since Breuil’s grand compendium in the early 1930s. She organised the motifs into a typology of anthropomorphs (subdivided into 8 major types); zoomorphs (4 types); idols and stelae (8); items (5), other motifs including points, bars, zig-zags and ramiforms (8). The last chapter was called ‘ethnographic aspects’ and in it she discussed clothing; personal adornments; armed anthropomorphs; couples; women; corpses and burials; dances; hunting; fights; domestication and, finally, working the land (Acosta 1968). Following Francisco

Turning our attention back to the major university professors of the time, an important event in rock art studies was Pericot’s organization of the Wartenstein Symposium in 1960 with funding from the Wenner Gren Foundation. He coordinated this meeting with one of his protégées, Eduardo Ripoll. The Symposium on the Rock Art of the Western Mediterranean and the Sahara was held in Burg Wartenstein (Austria) (Pericot and Ripoll Perelló 1964). A mixture of scholars gathered there,

Figure 7.4. Table of the main chronological theories by author at the Symposium on the Rock Art of the Western Mediterranean and the Sahara in Burg Wartenstein (Austria), 1960 (based on Ripoll Perelló 1964a: xi).

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Margarita Díaz-Andreu proposed that it was possible to distinguish two large areas in the distribution of schematic rock art on the Iberian Peninsula, the first in the south and south-east with mainly paintings, and the second encompassing the rest of the Iberian Peninsula with a combination of paintings and carvings. Surprisingly, he suggested that in the eastern area schematic art was earlier than the Levantine style and qualified as ‘servilism’ to foreign ideas the hypothesis of Near Eastern migrants as its origin (Jordá Cerdá 1983b: 9). He spent several pages discussing divinities identified as female and phallic, as well as other astral divinities. He mentioned the historian of religion, Mircea Eliade, in passing in one of the last paragraphs. He was followed by Acosta who, in a more aseptic fashion, talked about techniques, representations and typology, Ripoll lectured on chronology and schematization and Beltrán on origins. The latter, in contrast to Jordá’s opinions explained above, indicated that the rock art of the recently discovered cave of Porto Badisco in Italy marked a stopover on the movement from the Near East to Spain by peoples who already had knowledge of metallurgy (Beltrán Martínez 1983: 40). Papers described new rock art sites in practically all regions of Spain and

Jordá, she provided some chronological suggestions on the basis of comparisons with the Near East and the Eastern Mediterranean (Acosta 1968: 17). Acosta’s book was hugely influential, mainly because it was cheap and became a standard addition to all university students’ reading lists. Acosta did not participate in a conference held in Madrid in 1979 where schematic art was discussed with a few contributions on already known sites and other new ones (Almagro Basch and Fernández-Miranda 1980). As a reaction to the perceived elitist character of that meeting, the First International Colloquium on Schematic Art on the Iberian Peninsula was held in Salamanca between May 24 and 29, 1982. This meeting served as a pivot between the third generation of rock art specialists and the one that followed. As keynote speakers it had four scholars from the third generation of twentieth-century rock art scholars: Francisco Jordá Cerdá, Antonio Beltrán Martínez, Eduardo Ripoll Perelló and Pilar Acosta, as well as three younger specialists: Mauro Hernández, José Manuel Vázquez Valera and Vítor Oliveira Jorge. The colloquium was published in the journal Zephyrus (Jordá Cerdá 1983a). Jordá

Figure 7.5. Machroschematic art. a–d. Pla de Petracos Shelters V, IV, VII and VIII; e. Tollos (Hernández Pérez and Centre d’Estudis Contestans 1983, Figs. 2–6)

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History of the study of schematic rock art in Spain

motifs such as the eye [oculado] (Barroso). There were contributions on techniques of what to record in the field that included perhaps the first published recording method in Spain (Becarés). Whereas in Aragón superimpositions once again dated schematic art as later than Levantine art, in Andalusia an Early Neolithic chronology was attributed to schematic art (Carrasco and Pastor). A more conceptual essay was given by Martín de Guzmán, who mentioned structuralism, Charles and Umberto Eco in his paper, and called for a more theoretical basis for the study of schematic rock art in Spain. J. L. Sánchez Gómez presented what was perhaps the first study on pigments in schematic art. This meeting demonstrated that the study of schematic rock art was starting to move in new directions.

and the Cova de la Sarsa (Martí Oliver 2006; Martí Oliver and Hernández Pérez 1988: 51–85). The chronology of the Cardial pottery, dated in this area from c. 5600 cal BC to c. 5200 cal BC, provided the dates for the art (Bernabeu Aubán et al. 2017; García Atienzar 2010, 44– 45). The superimpositions showed that macroschematic motifs were always below the schematic and Levantine motifs (Martí Oliver and Hernández Pérez 1988: 51–85), so they had to be interpreted as the oldest facies of the Neolithic art sequence. Earlier chronologies were thus disregarded. The inscription of the Rock Art of the Mediterranean Basin on the Iberian Peninsula (ARAMPI) on the World Heritage List in 1998, thus including all the schematic paintings in the Mediterranean coastal area of the Iberian Peninsula, served as a boost to rock art studies. However, in comparison to more naturalistic styles, schematic rock art has continued to be the handmaiden of rock art studies. One example of this is the many doctoral theses written in the 2000s of which only one focused on schematic paintings and none on schematic rock carvings (Hernández Pérez 2009: 62) a situation that has not changed in the last decade. The increase in the number of publications has been exponential, with most articles focusing on descriptions of newlyfound sites. Other subjects studied have been schematic motifs incised on pottery and other media (Carrasco Rus et al. 2006; García Atiénzar 2006; Martí Oliver 2006; Martínez Sánchez et al. 2006). There has been some concern over the spatial dimension of schematic rock art. In the early 2000s, Julián Martínez García argued that schematic art should be studied on the micro level (the panel), followed by the medium level (the shelter) and the macro level (the location of the shelter in the landscape) (Martínez García 2000; 2002). It is in the latter where some of those entering research in the 2000s made their impact, in particular with the application of GIS (Cerrillo Cuenca 2006; Fairén Jiménez 2004; García Atienza 2006; Martínez Bea 2006). Some authors have linked the motifs in particular shelters to astronomical events (Viñas and Ciurana 2004) and the first studies into the acoustics of schematic art landscapes have been published (Díaz-Andreu et al. 2017). Chronology and similarities with motifs in other types of material culture are still important: the find of motifs painted on Early Neolithic pebbles in the Cave of Chaves (Utrilla Miranda and Baldellou 2002; Utrilla Miranda and Laborda Lorente 2018) represents a challenge to the chronology proposed following the discovery of macroschematic art.

The last fifty years: from the discovery of other schematic rock art traditions to World Heritage The discovery of linear-geometric art and macroschematic art were the main novelties in the 1970s. Regarding the former, in 1974, soon after obtaining his doctorate, Francisco Javier Fortea proposed that underlying the Levantine art were geometric patterns that showed evident similarities with those engraved on a series of Epipaleolithic plaques found in the Mediterranean area from Alicante to Tarragona (Fortea 1974; 1975). After his work, however, no further sites appeared in which paintings of this style were identified. The linear-geometric style is still mentioned in many publications, but it seems to have been an isolated occurrence. More far reaching was the discovery of the macroschematic style. There had already been some comments about figures beneath the Levantine style art at the site of La Sarga (Beltrán Martínez and Pascual Pérez 1974), but the implications of this only became a reality in 1979. In that year two amateurs belonging to a local society, the Centre d’Estudis Contestans, published on a new style, initially with the Córdoba professor, Dr Dolores Asquerino, who had written a PhD on the area (Aparicio Pérez 1980; Asquerino Fernández and Centre d’Estudis Contestans 1980). From 1981, the year of his arrival in the area, most publications were authored or co-authored by the new professor at the University of Alicante (full professor from 1985), Mauro Hernández Pérez (Hernández Pérez and Centre d’Estudis Contestans 1982). His presentation to the Salamanca meeting of 1982 mentioned above seems to have been the highlight of the event (Hernández Pérez and Centre d’Estudis Contestans 1983) (Figure 7.5). Macroschematic rock art, a style characterised by its up to one-meter-high motifs, was dated to the early Neolithic. This chronology was based mainly on the similarities of some of its motifs to others incised on vessels with printed Cardial decoration documented at several sites in the area, in particular the Cova de l’Or

The huge boost to rock art studies following the 1998 World Heritage inscription of the ARAMPI had been preceded by more than a decade of activity, although it did not always provide the hoped-for results. This is the case of journals, as many of those that appeared were 69

Margarita Díaz-Andreu short-lived. They included Ars Praehistorica published between 1982 and 1989, and BARA (Boletín de Arte Rupestre de Aragón) (4 editions from 1998 to 2001). Panel, a journal founded after the adscription of the ARAMPI with the promise of an annual appearance did not go beyond the first edition. Other initiatives followed the World Heritage inscription of 1998 Cuadernos de Arte Rupestre saw seven issues between 2004 and 2014 and is now continued by the Cuadernos de Arte Prehistórico (2016–). The ARAMPI definitively led to the organization of special issues dealing with rock art in journals (Bolskan 11, 1999; Cota Zero 16, 2001; and Millars XXIV, 2001) and to an explosion of major volumes (Fullola i Pericot 1998; Hernández Pérez et al. 2000; López Payer et al. 2009; Martínez García 2005; Mateo Saura 2010; Utrilla Miranda 2000). Several congresses were also organised (Hernández Pérez and Soler Díaz 2005; Juste et al. 2012: García Atiénzar and Barciela González 2019; López Mira et al. 2009; Martínez García and Hernández Pérez 2013; Martínez García and Hernández Pérez 2006; Viñas 2019, 2022). In the 2000s, many interpretation centers and cultural parks with a focus on rock art were opened (Díaz-Andreu et al. 2015) and, although some subsequently closed during the economic crisis, many have managed to survive.

Sobre Arte Prehistórico (1. 1979. Madrid). Madrid: Ministerio de Cultura. Almagro Basch, M. and A. García y Bellido 1946. Ars Hispaniae. Historia Universal del Arte Hispánico. Volumen primero Arte prehistórico por Martín Almagro. Colonizaciones púnica y griega. Arte ibérico. El arte de las tribus célticas por Antonio García y Bellido. Madrid: Editorial Plus Ultra. Almagro Basch, M. and M. A. García Guinea (eds.) 1972. Symposium Internacional de Arte Rupestre: SantanderAsturias, 14 al 20 de septiembre 1970. Santander: Patronato de las Cuevas Prehistóricas de la Provincia de Santander. Anonymous. 1846. Templo fenicio y jeroglíficos de Fuencaliente. Semanario Pintoresco Español. Semanario Pintoresco Español XI: 3. Aparicio Pérez, J. 1980. El primer arte valenciano. Nuevos hallazgos (1977–1980). Archivo de Arte Valenciano 62: 98–100. Argote, J.C. de. 1734. Memorias para a historia ecclesiastica de arcebispado de Braga, primaz das Espanhas. Vol II. Lisboa: Tipografia de Ambrosio Real. Argote, J.C. de. 1738. De antiquitatibus conventus Bracaraugustani, libri quatuor, vernaculo, latinque sermone conscripti, et augustissimo lusitanorum regi Joanni V Lisboa: Ulyssipone Occidentali, Typis Sylvianis. Asquerino F., M. Dolores and Centre d’Estudis Contestans 1980. Nueva estación con pinturas rupestres en Benirrama (Valle de Gallinera, Alicante), in M. Almagro Basch and M. Fernández-Miranda (eds): Altamira Symposium: 427–448. Madrid: Ministerio de Cultura. Balout, L. 1963. Voyages de l’abbé Breuil en France, en Europe, a travers le monde (1897–1957). Libyca 11: 9–42. Beltrán Martínez, A. 1983. El arte esquemático en la Península Ibérica: orígenes e interrelación. Bases para un debate. Zephyrus [I Coloquio Internacional sobre el Arte Esquemático en la Península Ibérica] 36: 37–51. Beltrán Martínez, A. and V. Pascual Pérez 1974. Las pinturas rupestres prehistóricas de La Sarga (Alcoy), El Salt (Penáguila) y El Calvari (Bocairente) (Trabajos Varios 47). Valencia: Servicio de Investigación Prehistórica. Diputación Provincial de Valencia. Bernabeu Aubán, J., S. Lozano and S. Pardo-Gordó. 2017. Iberian Neolithic Networks: the rise and fall of the Cardial world. Frontiers in Digital Humanities 4: Article 7. Bernier, J. and F. Javier Fortea 1968–69. Nuevas pinturas rupestres esquematicas en la provincia de Córdoba. Avance de su estudio. Zephyrus XIX/XX: 145–164. Breuil, H. 1908. Les pintures quaternaries de la Roca del Cogul. Butlletí del Centre Escursionista de Lleyda 1: 10–13.

An analysis of the major themes presented in the many rock art meetings organised makes it clear that the study of schematic rock art has diversified. There is an increase in the number of new scientific techniques being applied to research into pigments and dating and issues of conservation and management are of growing importance within the debates. Schematic rock art currently has more researchers working on it than ever before and, although it still fails to attract the same amount of attention as the naturalistic styles, many other rock art specialists are working on it in different countries around the world. In addition to the discussion of specific sub-styles, such as the Laguna de la Janda one, there are other new ones that will, no doubt, attract a lot of attention, such as the discovery of an Early Schematic style - arte esquemático antiguo - in the area of Alicante and Valencia (Martorell Briz 2019: 41, 147-148, tabla I.1). Despite its four-centurylong history, there is still much scope for new research into schematic art in Spain. We will see what the future holds for us. References Acosta, P. 1968. La pintura rupestre esquemática en España. Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca. Almagro Basch, M. 1949. Un nuevo grupo de pinturas rupestres en Albarracín: “La Cueva de Doña Clotilde”. Teruel 1: 91–116. Almagro Basch, M. and M. Fernández-Miranda (eds) 1980. Altamira Symposium. Symposium Internacional 70

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Chapter 8

Leo Frobenius’ contribution to global rock art research Richard Kuba and Martin Porr Abstract Frobenius was the most famous German anthropologist of the first half of the twentieth century and an ambiguous figure. His endeavours as rock art researcher are less known. He believed that the great rock art traditions that he knew from the famous Franco–Cantabrian caves had not entirely vanished but persisted first in Northern Africa and spread from there to the rest of the continent. To prove this continuity, he undertook several expeditions to northern and southern Africa from 1913 onwards, always taking along professional artists to copy rock art onto paper and canvas. Combining oral tradition and ethnographic analogies, he was the first to speculate about shamanic practices depicted in southern African rock art. By the 1930s, he had established the world’s largest archive of painted rock art copies and then sent out further expeditions to document rock art in Europe (Spain, France, Italy, Scandinavia), New Guinea and Australia. This paper traces aspects of Frobenius’ intellectual oeuvre, his specific ideas about rock art, the motivations for his expeditions as well as the huge success he had in exhibiting rock art in the 1930s in Europe and the United States.

Introduction In April 1937, the first ever exhibition of prehistoric rock art in a museum of modern art opened. This was not in any museum, but the famous Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York. Two men stood behind this unusual event: Alfred Barr, the visionary founding director of the Museum who believed that ‘art of the 20th century has already come under the influence of the great tradition of prehistoric mural art’ (Barr 1937: 9) and Leo Frobenius, a dazzling, ambiguous cultural anthropologist and director of the ‘Institute for Cultural Morphology’ in Frankfurt, Germany, where, at that time, some 4000 copies of rock art images were housed. The often huge canvasses, some of them over 20 square meters in size, that now filled the modern ‘white cube’ setting of the MoMA had been shipped in from Germany and inspired modern artists at a time when they were banned in Nazi Germany (Kuba 2016a). In the following, we will neither trace the quite adventurous history of these rock art copies and how they were produced on site by trained artists, mostly young women, during expeditions to Northern and Southern Africa, the Sahara and also to European rock art centers such as southern France, northern Spain, Powerful Pictures (Archaeopress 2022): 76–88

Scandinavia and northern Italy.1 Nor will we dwell on the other prominent exhibits organised throughout Europe and the United States in the 1930s or the unusual reception history of the collection by avantgarde artists, which art historians have unraveled in recent years.2 We will rather concentrate on the curious interpretation of rock art by Frobenius. After all, he gathered the world’s largest collection of rock art copies from Africa and Europe not only just to be displayed in internationally acclaimed exhibitions all over Europe and the US during the 1920s and 1930s. For him, the copies were primarily meant as a scientific documentation to prove prehistoric cultural developments on an almost global scale. For several reasons, his theories are largely ignored and even forgotten in the history of rock art research. First, they were almost exclusively published in German,3 and except for the three prestigious and richly illustrated volumes dedicated exclusively to African rock art (Frobenius 1931a, 1937; Frobenius and Obermaier 1925), his theories are scattered throughout a prolific oeuvre of some 50 monographs and countless articles. Another obvious reason is that they were highly speculative and written in a style, which was as emphatic as it was vague. Émile-Félix Gautier, a French geographer and historian based in Algiers, who had published on Saharan rock art and sometimes on sites documented by Frobenius (Gautier 1916) wrote in 1939, one year after Frobenius’ death: ‘it is quite difficult to clearly identify Frobenius’ ideas: they are nebulous, masked by metaphors, sometimes insults, grandiloquence, boiling of romanticism that interferes with the precision of a scientific subject. But what matters most are not the ideas in the text, but the illustrations; they are magnificent, superb photographs, very detailed drawings, highlighted with bright colours. (...) His huge books are precious albums’ (Gautier 1939: 699).4

1 

See for example Kuba 2010; Kuba 2015; Georget et al. 2016; Kuba 2016b. 2  On the influence of prehistoric on modern art see for example the exhibition catalogues Kohl et al. 2016; Museum Giersch and Frobenius-Institut 2019; Debray et al. 2019; Mayer 2013; Seibert 2014; Ivanoff 2016. 3  Except for Frobenius 1930, 1936c; Frobenius and Fox 1937. 4  Unless otherwise noted, all direct quotes in English in this text are our translations.

Leo Frobenius’ contribution to global rock art research

Gautier had followed Frobenius’ research in northern Africa since the latter’s expedition to Algeria in 1913– 14 and clearly perceived him as a competitor within French colonial territory. On the scientific results of that expedition, Gautier had published in 1921 an acerbic criticism, admitting, however, that a chair of ethnology and prehistory should have been created at the University of Algiers instead of leaving this field to the Germans.5 Gautier’s judgement about Frobenius’ ideas is certainly correct to some extent. However, it is worthwhile to not just shelf them as another weird contribution to the history of rock art research, which already has a reputation to be richer in dubious interpretations than most other fields in academia.

Frobenius within German ethnology In their formative decades around the turn of the 20th century, prehistory and ethnology were in many ways much more intimately related than today, through shared scientific societies and learned journals, through similar theoretical and methodological frameworks and through personalities such as Leo Frobenius (1873– 1938). Interested in cultural history in a broad sense and on a worldwide scale, Frobenius inscribed himself into the history of German ethnology7 in a quite peculiar way. In the first decades of the 20th century, he was the most influential social anthropologist in the Germanspeaking countries, making social anthropology widely popular in Central Europe and beyond.

Frobenius’ thinking was deeply rooted in a specific strand of German ethnological theory and he is remembered foremost as a leading ethnological theorist of his time, influencing the discipline, at least in the German speaking countries, well into the postWWII period. Furthermore, his historical comparative reconstructions, as odd as they seem in our days, were underpinned by the most comprehensive global documentation of rock art of his time as well of a huge collection of Paleolithic stone tools, which he gathered during his expeditions.

It is somewhat paradoxical that he remained an academic outsider for the whole of his life and was an equally controversial figure, who failed to acquire a doctoral title early in his career and did not care much about adhering to academic customs and expectations. Only at his career’s end, he became director of the Museum of Ethnology in Frankfurt and an honorary professor (Heinrichs 1998; Streck 2014). He stood at the transition of a discipline based mainly at museums (Penny and Bunzel 2003) – in his younger years he had worked as a volunteer in several ethnographic museums – to a more and more academic field with university chairs and research institutions. As an ‘entrepreneur-anthropologist’ (Barkan 1994: 185), he was taking part in that development through his huge documentation efforts and as a major institution builder, founding his own research institute. There is also little doubt that his prolific writing reached an extensive audience. The first crucial conceptual contribution of Frobenius was the so-called Kulturkreis (cultural field or culture circle), which he introduced in 1897 (Frobenius 1897/98). Based on comparative research in German ethnographic museums, Frobenius argued that the cultures in Africa do not have a common origin

In the catalogue of the 1937 MoMA exhibition, Frobenius describes his awakening to rock art. Looking back at the age of 64, just one year before his death, the unquestionable PR talent describes this as a heroic act. Referring to the general doubts about the true age of the cave art at Altamira at the end of the 19th century and how uncomfortable and even distinctly irritating the idea of Paleolithic art was to his contemporaries, he writes: ‘at that time, the West European intellect had come more and more to the conviction that the culture of the day was the highest to which man had ever attained (…) everything which had developed before the beginning of history could be regarded only as primitive, amateurish and insignificant in comparison with 19th century splendor.’ However, not for the ‘then youthful’ Leo Frobenius, who was the ‘one individual in whom the whole affair had started a train of thought which led him into quite a different direction’. 6 In this, he was guided by his conviction that the highly sophisticated European Ice Age art could not have vanished completely but that its afterlife could still be detected in other parts of the world, foremost in Africa.

7  Since the late 19th century, Völkerkunde also called Ethnologie, which could be equated with cultural anthropology, had dissociated itself, especially on an institutional level, from physical anthropology called Anthropologie, which became restricting to human biology. As in other European countries, WWI caused a stronger differentiation between the subdisciplines, leading cultural and physical anthropology to drift further apart (Scheer et al. 2010). In 1929, in order to mark the split between the disciplines, the new scientific society Deutsche Gesellschaft für Völkerkunde (German Anthropological Association) was founded in opposition to the much older and interdisciplinary Deutsche Gesellschaft für Anthropologie, Ethnologie und Urgeschichte, (German association for anthropology, ethnology and prehistory), which became more and more dominated by physical anthropologists, turning largely towards racial science during the Third Reich and thus delivered justifications for genocide. However, in the early 1930s, a few institutes remained, where both disciplines were taught, in a few cases even by the same person. Nevertheless, one could talk about two separate disciplines and there has been considerable critique of studies treating ethnology and anthropology in Germany as one single science (Eidson 2004).

5  Gauthier 1921: 61. Almost twenty years later, Frobenius was prevented from returning to southern Algeria. In 1933, during a campaign of copying rock art at Fezzan and Tadrart Acacus Libyan, then an Italian colony, he planned to travel across the border to Tassili N’Ajjer in the Algerian Sahara with its imposing rock galleries. But the French colleagues saw this as their exclusive territory and the authorities refused entry to Frobenius and his team of artists (Gautier 1934: 151). 6  Frobenius and Fox 1937: 14–15. On the skeptical intellectual climate of the time concerning rock art, see also Pfisterer 2007.

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Richard Kuba and Martin Porr but are the product of ancient movements of culture groups and different cultural influences over time. A Kulturkreis can be detected through the geographical distribution of similar forms of material culture and myths. It is the expression of an earlier, more ancient culture that has now virtually disappeared and is only accessible through ethnographic Einfühlung (empathy)8 and comparative analysis. It was an attempt to identify prehistoric migration and diffusion processes, thus, permitting to some degree historical reconstructions for regions and epochs lacking any written records or archaeological evidence. Frobenius, therefore, gave German-speaking social anthropology both an overarching aim (the elucidation of ancient cultures) as well as a respective methodology.

96; Kramer 2005). He was fascinated by the earliest beginnings of cultural expressions. At the same time, it provided a significant and innovative counterpoint against the materialist and evolutionist orientation of English and American anthropology (Marchand 1997). Consequently, he was criticised for the flaws of his historical approach not only by a number of his German colleagues (cf. Heinrichs 1998: 50–52) but also by leading international figures of cultural and social anthropology such as Franz Boas (1899) or Radcliffe-Brown (1924). His intuitive ‘emphatic process of understanding’ (Stocking 1987), his spiritualistic approach to culture, his neo-pagan worldview (Streck 2014) and his rejection of a ‘mechanistic’ disenchanted modernity were seen as antithetical to positivistic scientific approaches.

However, Frobenius soon distanced himself from his brainchild. The comparison of isolated cultural features in different regions and linking them to hypothetical diffusion processes became too sterile for Frobenius’ more holistic vision of culture (Sylvain 1996) and it was indeed later on transformed in problematic fashion into the rigid system of the ‘Vienna school’ of Wilhelm Schmidt, which dominated German ethnology for decades. Frobenius instead developed his idea of the Kulturkreis further and proposed what he called ‘cultural morphology’, a concept which operated with the idea of the Gestalt of culturally specific styles of expression. His Kulturmorphologie introduced a mystic version of culture as a cyclical, organic whole with a creative essence he called Paideuma. This ‘cultural soul’, as the concept might be translated, seizes people and determines all their aesthetic and cultural expressions. Art and culture are imitatio mundi, world theatre, reenactment, recreation, emulation of what grabs the soul of people. The Paideuma, thus, dictates the style of people’s folklore, mythology, religion, architecture, material culture and political system (Frobenius 1921). As ‘living’ organisms, Paideumata undergo processes of growth, maturation and decline, an idea that was greatly influenced by Oswald Spengler’s two volume work ‘The Decline of the West’ (Der Untergang des Abendlandes) (Spengler 1918, 1922; cf. Streck 2014). Their assessment consequently not only has to consider their geographic location and extent, but also their ages. Certainly, Frobenius was not really interested in understanding a single culture, but in the culture and in the history of the world. He speculated about the causes and forces that led to the emergence of a culture and asked for underlying laws of development.

Clearly, his epistemology was in many ways closer to an artistic understanding of the world than to rational scientific analysis. According to Frobenius, ‘to fully comprehend reality necessitates to subject oneself to the essence of a phenomenon – not to the facts but to the spirit underlying them’ (Frobenius 1933: 25). While such statements estranged him from a section of the scientific community, it made his writings attractive to a greater audience. Documenting African cultures

Overall, his vision of culture was deeply rooted in 19th century German romanticism (Gingrich 2005:

In developing his particular vision of anthropology, Frobenius was far from being an armchair researcher. Dissatisfied with the existing documentation of African cultures, for which he had developed a profound passion since his early youth, he had to go there himself to gather first-hand data and thus became one of the first professional anthropologists to engage in extensive ethnological fieldwork in Africa. With great tenacity, he implemented this aim at an almost continental scale. Between 1904 and the mid-1930s, he organized a dozen research expeditions, which often took him for one or two years to many parts of the continent (Figure 8.1). He thus became a prolific collector of ethnographic data, of folktales and artifacts and one of the first Europeans to try to reconstruct the history of cultures of pre-colonial Africa. Tens of thousands of objects collected by him still constitute valuable parts of Africana collections ethnographic museums in Germany and beyond. The twelve volumes of his ‘Atlantis’ series are still among the most comprehensive collections of African folktales. As a result of this institutional documentation effort, the Frobenius Institute in Frankfurt houses an invaluable archive containing numerous field journals as well as some 100,000 photographs, sketches and watercolors.

8  ‘The somewhat successful attempt, on the part of the ethnologist to enter into a sympathetic rapport with the cultures they are describing, an attempt which generally ended in either sentimentalism or extreme subjectivism’ (Paul Radin, quoted in Kramer 1985: 338).

His vision of old and significant cultures in Africa was quite progressive at a time in which the continent was generally denied any historical depth and which at best 78

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Figure 8.1. Map of the expeditions Frobenius and his team undertook in Africa and Europe before 1937 (copyright FrobeniusInstitut, Frankfurt am Main; reproduced with kind permission)

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Figure 8.2a and 8.2b. ‘En-face’ lion, looking at the viewer (Frobenius 1933: 68 and 97) (copyright Frobenius-Institut, Frankfurt am Main; reproduced with kind permission)

Many of his books had a wide circulation and several were translated. In the 1930s, the founding figures of the Négritude movement in Paris, the later Senegalese president Leopold Sédar Senghor and the AfricanCaribbean poet Aimé Césaire received access to the French translation of Frobenius’ voluminous ‘History of African Civilization’ (Frobenius 1936c), it was revelatory to them.9 For the same emancipatory purposes, W. E.

B. Du Bois, the famous African-American writer and activist, praised Frobenius as someone who ‘looked upon Africa with unprejudiced eyes and has been more valuable for the interpretation of the Negro than any other I know’ (Du Bois 1965: x–xi). Needless to say, behind such praise stood a quite selective reading of Frobenius’ works. Frobenius loved Africa and his oeuvre gives ample testimony of this. However, this praise of Africa refers more to an imagined great past than to the real Africans he encountered and which he could at times describe in degrading language (cf. Soyinka 1986 for a critique). Furthermore, Frobenius was by no means against colonialism. While only few ethnologists were directly involved in applied anthropology within Germany’s colonial project (Penny and Bunzel 2003: 23–27), he became an adviser to the German empire’s colonial agency a few years before the colonies were lost in WWI (Kuba 2014).

9  ‘Mais quel coup de tonnerre, soudain, que celui de Frobenius ! [...] Toute l’histoire et toute la préhistoire de l’Afrique en furent illuminées

– jusque dans leurs profondeurs’ (Senghor 1973: 1).

ascribed any noteworthy cultural accomplishments to the influence of Islam. Frobenius saw himself as a ‘rescue ethnologist’ of rapidly vanishing cultures, threatened to disappear forever under the onslaught of colonialism and market economies. In his view, African culture, its art and architecture, oral traditions and epic sagas as well as its traditional institutions and customs were worth being documented and conserved just as those of the great cultures of classical antiquity.

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Leo Frobenius’ contribution to global rock art research

Frobenius and the interpretation of rock art styles in Africa and Europe, and Frobenius’ specific view of Africa also permeate his rock art research. His first rock art recording expeditions date back to before WWI. In 1912, he met the German Emperor Wilhelm II for the first time and a lifelong friendship subsequently developed between the two men (Franzen et al. 2012). This contact freed Frobenius from the necessity to finance his Africa expeditions through the sale of ethnographic objects to museums (Frobenius and Obermaier 1925: 1). With the protection and the financial means obtained through the Emperor, he could thus turn away from travels with an ethnographic focus towards rock art research, a subject, which had fascinated him for a while. As we have outlined above, he claims to have been convinced well before Émile Cartailhac’s famous mea culpa in 1902 that the Spanish Altamira paintings were no fakes but of Paleolithic age. Already in 1897, he linked European and non-European rock art in comparing the ‘Bushman’ paintings of Southern Africa to the prehistoric art of the French Dordogne and the Swiss Thayngen regions (Frobenius 1897: 14). Frobenius’ aim was to demonstrate that the great rock art traditions during the Ice Age in Europe, especially in places such as Northern Spain and in Southern France, had not entirely vanished but had

survived in Africa. To prove this continuity on stylistic grounds, he was compelled to thoroughly document North African rock art. Dissatisfied with the quality of rock art reproductions available at the time (Frobenius and Obermaier 1925: 1), he insisted that the reproductions had to be made by trained artists, who had to reproduce not only single motifs but entire scenes in color and original sizes. In 1913–1914, he took four artists to French Algeria, in order to copy examples of the rich rock art traditions in the Saharan Atlas Mountains onto paper and canvas. Some 350 drawings – the largest has a size of over seven square meters – as well as hundreds of photographs of engravings resulted from this expedition. It was by far the most comprehensive documentation of North African rock art at that time. Some similarities between the lithic industries in Europe and North Africa had already been noticed, thus, suggesting a shared cultural sphere during several epochs. Frobenius mentions that the Chellean, the oldest lithic industry identified in Europe at the time, also existed in Northern Africa and that the Capsien tradition of the Epipaleolithic had flourished in Northern Africa as well as in Spain (cf. Obermaier 1919/1920: 152). These observations

Figure 8.3. ‘Middle Paleolithic cultural structure in northern Africa’ (Frobenius 1933: 103) (copyright Frobenius-Institut, Frankfurt am Main; reproduced with kind permission)

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Richard Kuba and Martin Porr suggested that, at the height of the Ice Age, the strait of Gibraltar had fallen dry and formed a land connection between Africa and Europe (Frobenius 1933: 103).

traditions ended with the end of the Ice Age – Frobenius dated this event to around 5000 BC (Frobenius 1933: 50) – the same was not true in Africa. The fact that in Africa rock art was still a cultural practice long after it had disappeared in Europe was not the only argument for the marked cultural continuity that Frobenius believed to see in Africa. After having spent many years in the field, Frobenius comes to the extraordinary conclusion that ‘the African spirituality, wherever we study it, in all fields, shows an extraordinary ability to form strict styles with an almost total lack of actual creative power’ (Frobenius 1933: 93). Underlying his efforts to document African cultures was the conviction that this continent was eminently suited to preserve the last living surviving remnants of ancient and even Palaeolithic cultures: ‘The religions and art forms, social orders and folk poetry that have been preserved here have such great documentary value for the cultural and human history that they are eminently suitable to change the picture of world history’ (Frobenius 1921: 124).

In relation to rock art imagery, he cited numerous examples of stylistic similarities between Europe and Africa, thus, constructing the ‘uniformity of the prehistoric cultural province of the West (from France via Spain and Mauritania to Fezzan)’ (Frobenius 1933: 114) (Figures 8.2a and 8.2b). These cultural connections he saw further supported by two distinct cultural styles, which he recognised in Paleolithic European art as well as in the rock art of North Africa and the Sahara. In Europe, the Franco-Cantabrian tradition was marked by ‘quiet unrelated animal representations’ while the Levantine style of Eastern Spain mainly showed running human figures. Franco-Cantabrian hunters lived in caves, were rather defensive and used spear throwers while the Levantine culture was rather aggressive, using bows and arrows (Frobenius 1936a: 20–21). Frobenius thus constructed ‘two very different spiritualities flourishing side by side through the millennia’ (Frobenius 1937: 4–5). Also, in northern Africa’s Middle Stone Age he saw a similarly ‘sharp divide between peoples and cultures’ (Frobenius 1933: 108), manifested in the engravings of huge animals on the one hand and in the red and white painted human figures on the other (Figure 8.3). In his interpretations, it apparently didn’t concern Frobenius too much that he contradicted himself in some cases, saying at one time that the rock art of the North African Capsien is very similar to the Franco-Cantabrian style (Frobenius 1929: 29) and another time that it is actually a mixture of Franco-Cantabrian and Levantine styles (Frobenius 1933: 51).

For him, therefore, Africa is the ‘continent that apparently possesses the highest potential to preserve ancient cultures. It is therefore necessary to look around and see whether the cultural structures of living Africa are able to make sense of similar motifs in late Palaeolithic art of the Franco-Cantabrian tradition as well as of the Saharan art of the Capsien’ (Frobenius 1929: 30). Nowhere, however, he justifies his prejudice of an African cultural conservatism with a factual argument and was thus very much in line with the idea of an ‘ethnographic present’ (Wolf 1982) so widespread during his time. Frobenius was thus able to conclude that the highly developed artistic traditions of the Ice Age have persisted first in Northern Africa and later spread to the rest of the continent: ‘this tremendous culture of the Quaternary also existed in Africa, namely here in the regions of the Sahara belt blessed by the Pluvial at that time, and (…) it could have migrated to the south and interior of the continent with the drying up and devastation. The hope dawned that such a culture might still be alive today’ (Frobenius 1936b: VI–VII).10

Frobenius saw a similar duality in contemporary African societies where his research activities lead him to define two basic antithetical cultural styles: the Ethiopian (in the original Classical Greek sense) and the Hamite. These styles were neither defined racially nor linguistically as in the case of Carl Meinhof (1912). Frobenius instead extended this almost structuralist basic bipolarity to most human cultures, also identifying it within the different rock art styles of Europe and Africa. His sympathies were clearly with the Ethiopians, which he regarded as sedentary, deeply religious African farmers. Curiously, he also recognised this basic opposition within European cultures of his time: ‘The sense of facts in the French, English and Hamitic – the sense of reality in the German and Ethiopian culture’ (Frobenius 1932: 110).

Whenever he concedes some development to this ancient culture, it is only in one direction: degeneration. Already ‘neither the monumental North African engraved rock picture nor the smaller painted one has ever reached the lively smoothness of the European ones’ and outside the core regions of African rock art he just sees ‘epigones which are much poorer in meaning and style’ (Frobenius 1933: 51–52). Nevertheless, everywhere in Africa he was encountering the remnants

African cultural conservatism

10  See also Frobenius 1937: 2–3. Interestingly, Frobenius‘ co-author Hugo Obermaier contradicts this view (Frobenius and Obermaier 1925: 59).

While in Europe, the continent with the ‘highest rate of cultural change’ (Frobenius 1933: 62), rock art 82

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of past greatness and he believed, for example, to have walked in Ile Ife, the holy city of the Yoruba in Nigeria, ‘on the rubbles of the classical Atlantis’ (Frobenius 1912).

159, cf. for the Pygmy example; see Frobenius 1933: 127–128; Frobenius and Fox 1937: 22–23). His main argument that ethnographic evidence from Africa can support an understanding of European Ice Age art is, however, a highly hypothetic ancient hunter culture, which he calls the ‘Mahalbi culture’ and which remnants he claims to find all over western and central Africa. This culture is defined by a central ritual feature in which, during initiation to manhood, the sight of a mighty predator is essential (Frobenius 1929: 53–58; Frobenius 1933: 79). This understanding also underpins his interpretation of the famous ‘sorcerer’ in the cave of Trois-Frères in south-western France, discovered in 1914 by the Count Bégouën and made famous by the artistic rendering of Henri Breuil in 1927 (Bégouën and Breuil 1927). It clearly depicts a humanoid lion in Frobenius’ eyes and he, thus, poses the rhetorical question: ‘Whether the Trois-Frères cave interior is not the image of a temple dedicated to initiation rites of a culture close to the Mahalbi culture’ (Frobenius 1929: 168). The equivalent in North African rock art would then be the ‘en-face’ lion engravings found in the Algerian Atlas Mountains – a lion looking directly at the viewer (Figure 8.2). While the lion is replaced in initiation cults south of the Sahara by the leopard, the bear plays the key role in Nordic cultures, e.g. among the Siberian Gilyak (Nivkh) people or the Japanese Ainu (Frobenius 1933: 87–89): ‘Whoever compares the ceremonies of these northerners with those of the Africans will recognize that in them there are traits of a kind, of a style of a feeling for life, and that what the bear means there is here the felid, no matter whether lion or leopard. This means that the pictures and sculptures of the Middle Stone Age become living phenomena in the illumination of ethnographic facts’ (Frobenius 1933: 91–92).

Paleolithic traditions in African cultures Frobenius’ interpretation of prehistoric rock art through contemporary ethnographic evidence went well beyond the idea of using contemporary ‘primitive’ hunter gatherer societies as analogues to understand the semantics of rock art. This interpretative pattern introduced by Salomon Reinach, director of the leading French Archaeological Museum, the Musée des Antiquités nationales, in 1903, became extremely widespread in the following decades as it first introduced the idea of religious significance of rock art. Inspired by anthropologists such as Gillen and Frazer, Reinach believed that magic was the oldest form of religious life and that prehistoric rock art was, therefore, connected to magical meanings. Through sympathetic magic, i.e. by equating the image and the real animal, Paleolithic hunters would have bound their prey and guaranteed good fortune in hunting (Reinach 1903). Sympathetic magic became the prevalent theory for half a century. It is based upon a direct relationship between the image and its subject: by acting upon the image, one can act upon the animal it represents. Magical practices would have had three main purposes: enhance hunting success, increase the fertility of beneficial animals and to destroy dangerous or noxious ones. Frobenius makes it clear that his own interpretations owe nothing to analogy: ‘Of course, this can’t be a mere gimmick and platitudinous use of any analogies’ (Frobenius 1929: 24). For him, the fact that many contemporary societies were not using metal and were working with stone tools similar to those of the European Late Paleolithic (and the Tasmanians were supposedly even making tools similar to earlier Paleolithic epochs) proved not only ‘the unity of our own historical ascent out of Stone Age culture, but also the unity between these sources and the ‘living ethnographic’ cultures. (...) because nothing disappears altogether’ (Frobenius 1933: 48). Thus, all over Africa he saw remnants and relics of stone age cultures. Among the folklore of the Kabyles in northern Algeria he finds scattered recollections of Northern African rock art motifs such as the sun ram or the primordial buffalo, the Bedouins in southern Egypt still practice sacrifices at certain rock art sites, the pygmies in the Congo still appease the hunted antelope’s spirit by shooting an arrow at the animal’s outline drawn in the sand and among the Dogon in the Malian Bandiagara Mountains the initiation rites for young men includes a ceremony of paining on the face of a rock (Frobenius 1929: 156–

The construction of the hypothetic Mahalbi culture demonstrates how Frobenius was able to let his considerable associative imagination run wild. He easily uses the rich collections of his ethnographic archive to select common elements in seven hunter legends from West Africa (Frobenius 1929: 80) and cites initiation rites mostly based on hearsay from a large range of diverse societies such as the Hausa (Maguzawa) in northern Nigeria (whose word for ‘hunter’ is the eponymous ‘Mahalbi’), the Mande clan Koulibaly, the Malian Dogon, mysterious Saharan hunters from Air and Fezzan, alongside with scattered examples from the western Nigerian Adamawa, Sudan’s Kordofan and the Northern Algerian Kabylie. Common to these hunters is an animistic worldview. A number of wild animals, among them the big cats, the lion and the leopard, then above all certain antelope species, are understood to emanate a special power, which the hunter has

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Figure 8.4. Comparison of European and southern African rock art styles (Frobenius 1936a: 17) (copyright Frobenius-Institut, Frankfurt am Main; reproduced with kind permission)

to protect himself from. Above all, the gaze of the hunted animal transmits a damaging power in the last moments before its death that can be dangerous for the hunter’s genitals. Most intriguing is that these African hunters are said to be almost everywhere light skinned (Frobenius 1929: 31–32, 51, 126–127; Frobenius 1933: 71–72) in Kabylie even ‘blue-eyed and blonde-haired’ (Frobenius 1929: 47).

Pure emotion thus becomes concept and form. Moving eastward, the bear/the felids are replaced in rituals by cattle that reproduces in captivity and with every change of space also a paideumatic transformation sets in: ‘from a Stone Age cult on West European and Northeast African soil the cattle breeding must have developed in Eastern Europe and West Asia in cultic contexts’ (Frobenius 1933: 124).

In Frobenius’ understanding, these examples give ‘evidence of the fact that the culture of the Middle Stone Age, which many thousands of years ago gave rise to works of art in an underworld from the Aurignacian to the Magdalenian, long since suppressed and extinct in Europe, still survives on African soil to the present day’ (Frobenius 1933: 79). According to the developmental stages of the Paideuma, the original naïve, unmediated and non-reflective art of the Middle Stone Age developed at the end of the Stone Age into an art that puts more emphasis on explanation and illustration of the original basic vision, which had ‘seized’ Paleolithic humans.

Between 1928 and 1930, Frobenius undertook a long expedition to the present-day countries of South Africa, Zimbabwe and Namibia together with a team of three ethnographers and four, mainly female artists. The main focus was the documentation of rock art and he was amazed by the „true gems of the arts’ (Frobenius 1933: 56) he discovered. However, as he writes in the preface of his prestigious two volume publication Madsimu Dsangara, the images ‘did not enjoy much respect as they were presumed to be remnants of the outlawed Bushmen’, so that he saw his publication to be destined ‘to succeed in giving the despised South 84

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African ‘Bushman paintings’ the esteemed position in the world history of human art it deserves’ (Frobenius 1931a, vol. 1: 7–8).

1931a, vol. 1: 30). The ‘south Eritrean culture’ (as he calls it in its Ancient sense) originated in western Asia, moved through southern Arabia to Africa, first to Abyssinia and then southwards along the Mozambique coast before diffusing inland. Naturally, only the oldest, highly mythological ‘classical style’ still reflects this ancient high culture, which degenerated quickly: ‘once he came into contact with African rock paintings, the change of its forms was determined and sealed. It ‘seeped away’, ‘flattened, became banal, as the many hunting and war pictures of recent times show us’ (Frobenius 1931a, vol. 1: 34).

It was difficult for Frobenius to make sense of the over 1100 rock images copied by the expedition team and link the Southern African rock art styles with those he knew from European and North African contexts. However, he again distinguished two fundamentally different styles. The southern style he identified as the one related to the Paleolithic European traditions: ‘it cannot be denied that these creations of animal pictures are related to the Franco-Cantabrian style, that many of their figures in contour, habit and gesture resemble the human pictures of the eastern Spanish style like two peas in a pod’. According to Frobenius, the apparent intermixture of the two European styles within the region was a result of the fact that ‘the African nature preserved the old next to the young and allowed the oldest and the youngest live next to each other in peaceful undisturbed coexistence until the arrival of the all-destructive European ‘culture’’ (Frobenius 1933: 61–62; cf. Frobenius 1931c: 157) (Figure 8.4).

Conclusion Frobenius, who was fluent in French, was very much aware of the developments in rock art research during his time and quite familiar with the writings of Rivière, Cartailhac, Flamand or Begouën. He collaborated with the rock art specialists Hugo Obermaier and Henri Breuil and contributed to the so-called ‘exotic prehistory’ room at the Musée d’ethnographie du Trocadéro in Paris in 1933. Nevertheless, even in Germany, his role in rock art research became largely forgotten. For example, in Herbert Kühn’s (1965) highly

For the interpretation of the rock art, he extensively used ethnographic information on the ‘outlawed Bushmen’ (Frobenius 1931a, vol. 2: 12) as recorded by Joseph Orpen, Wilhelm Bleek and Lucy Lloyds in the last decades of the 19th century as well as over 600 folktales he and his collaborators collected themselves among local people (published partly in Frobenius 1931b and fully by Dinslage 2009). Based on this huge corpus of materials, he proposed a ‘shamanistic’ interpretation (Frobenius 1931a, vol. 2: 27–30; Frobenius 1931b: 205–210), which was quite similar to the one LewisWilliams developed from the 1980s onwards (cf. LewisWilliams 1981) and which became a widely accepted interpretation for a section of San rock art. The northern style, on the other hand, which Frobenius identified mainly in Zimbabwe, was interpreted to belong to younger external cultural influences from the north east and not to the ancient western European tradition. He noticed features that reminded him of Egyptian and Mesopotamian art such as the depiction of landscapes, cuneiform bodies and angled limbs. He grouped the rock images into a coherent cultural complex together with the old Zimbabwe ruins, evidence of an early mining industry as well as remnants of sacred state institutions and an ancient priestly mythology, which he claims to have discovered in the region (Frobenius 1933: 62). Consequently, he calls several of the impressive sceneries of this ‘classical style’ ‘royal panels’. They would have originated as paintings on temples or plastered grave walls in an ‘advanced civilization’ and only in a secondary development were turned into rock art (Frobenius

Figure 8.5. Frobenius explaining Saharan rock art during his exhibition in Rome 1933 (copyright: Bundesarchiv; reproduced with kind permission)

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Richard Kuba and Martin Porr popular account of research into European Ice Age art, Eiszeitkunst – Die Geschichte ihrer Erforschung, Frobenius is hardly mentioned at all. This situation is also the result of a significant decision by Frobenius regarding the selection of his successor. The two most experienced and senior candidates working for him at the Institute for Cultural Morphology were Adolf E. Jensen, who was an ethnologist, and Hans Rhotert, who specialised in Sahara rock art. In choosing Jensen as the next director, Frobenius, thus, fundamentally influenced the future orientation of his Institute and also whether he was rather remembered as an ethnologist or as a rock art researcher (Figure 8.5).

Saarbrücken, Cologne, Amsterdam, Frankfurt, Basel, Zurich and Vienna. The extensive exhibition activities continued throughout the 1930s with rock art copies travelling through almost all European metropolitan cities. As mentioned above, in 1937, a selection of 150 rock art copies was shown in an acclaimed exhibition in the Museum of Modern Art in New York and subsequently toured through 32 US cities, including Honolulu on Hawaii (Ivanoff 2016; Kuba 2016b). The enormous success of the paintings and the way in which they were received and understood by the general public were not even fully anticipated by Frobenius himself. He had intended to settle cultural and historical debates over issues such as the migration of prehistoric styles between the continents through a comparative approach. Designed as documentary science images, the copies nonetheless conveyed the aesthetic power and aura of the prehistoric originals, and the fact that these hitherto unseen expressions of art inspired modern artists and art lovers was surprising to Frobenius as well.

For Frobenius, rock art was the expression of the oldest and most foundational characteristics of human culture. The fact that he mainly focussed on Africa came from his long-standing familiarity with the continent and its culture. In his time, he certainly was unique in covering almost the entire continent, documenting rock art in northern Africa, the Sahara, Egypt and southern Africa. The deep meanings he supposedly uncovered in African rock art were also perceived to be the key to unlock the Paleolithic mind in Europe and beyond. In some ways, he tried to give a voice to Indigenous people by taking their cultural concepts and their understanding of rock art serious. The continuity of cultural concepts over thousands of years and the alleged lack of cultural creativity and agency in Africa is, however, highly questionable as an interpretative foundation. The Indigenous voice certainly was important in understanding San rock art in southern Africa. Here, he was a pioneer of the shamanic interpretation as much as he was also a child of his time speculating on external influences from outside the continent concerning the so-called ‘northern style’. While he sometimes used contemporary racial stereotypes, race, however, never played a role in his theories and for this reason his Institute was threatened to be closed down by the authorities of the National Socialist regime after the death of its founding father in 1938 (Geisenhainer 2002, 2019).

References Barkan, E. 1994. Post-Anti-Colonial Histories: Representing the Other in Imperial Britain. The Journal of British Studies 33 (2): 180–203. Barr, A. 1937. Preface and acknowledgement, in Leo Frobenius and Douglas Fox (eds) Prehistoric Rock Pictures in Europe and Africa: 9–11. New York: Museum of Modern Art. Bégouën, H. and H. Breuil. 1927. Les cavernes du Volp : Trois Fréres – Tuc d’Audoubert à Montesquieu-Avantés (Ariège). Paris: Arts et Métiers Graphiques. Boas, F. 1899. Review of ‘Die Weltanschauung der Naturvölker‘ by L. Frobenius. American Anthropologist, New Series 1 (4): 775–777. Debray, C., R. Labrusse and M. Stavrinaki (eds). 2019. Préhistoire – Une énigme moderne. Paris: Centre Pompidou. Dinslage, S. (ed.) 2009. Leo Frobenius. Animal husbands, magic horns and water spirits. Folktales from Southern Africa (Vol 1–3). Köln: Rüdiger Köppe Verlag. Du Bois, W.E.B. 1965. The World and Africa. New York: International Publishers. Eidson, J.R. 2004. From Herder to Heidegger: Three Recent Works on the ‘German Connection’. American Anthropologist New Series, 106 (2): 386–388. Franzen, C., K.-H. Kohl and M.-L. Recker. 2012. Der Kaiser und sein Forscher. Der Briefwechsel zwischen Wilhelm II. und Leo Frobenius (1924–1938). Stuttgart: Kohlhammer. Frobenius, L. and D. Fox. 1937. Prehistoric Rock Pictures in Europe and Africa. New York: Museum of Modern Art. Frobenius, L. and H. Obermaier. 1925. Hadschra Maktuba. Urzeitliche Felsbilder Kleinafrikas. München: Wolf.

Frobenius legacy in rock art research is certainly not mainly related to his theoretical contributions. Rather, he and his staff collected the largest and most comprehensive archive of global rock art before WWII, including some 5000 painted copies and even more b/w photographs. This impressive archive was widely used to bring especially African rock art into the limelight through lavishly illustrated publications and massive exhibition activities. After returning from Southern Africa in 1930, the Institute’s findings were immediately made accessible to a larger audience through exhibitions in Berlin, Mannheim, Oslo, Brussels and Paris. The following year saw exhibitions in Hamburg,

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Frobenius, L. 1897. Die bildende Kunst der Afrikaner. Mitteilungen der Anthropologischen Gesellschaft in Wien 27 (17): 1–17. Frobenius, L. 1897/98. Der westafrikanische Kulturkreis. Petermanns Mitteilungen (43/44): 225–271. Frobenius, L. 1912. Und Afrika sprach… Vol. 1: Auf den Trümmern des klassischen Atlantis. Berlin: Vita. Frobenius, L. 1921. Paideuma. Umrisse einer Kulturund Seelenlehre. München: C. H. Beck‘sche Verlagsbuchhandlung. Frobenius, L. 1929. Monumenta Terrarum. Der Geist über den Erdteilen (Erlebte Erdteile vol. 7). Frankfurt am Main: Frankfurter Societäts-Druckerei. Frobenius, L. 1930. L’Afrique. Cahiers d’art 8–9: 393–447. Frobenius, L. 1931a. Madsimu Dsangara. Südafrikanische Felsbilderchronik (Vol. 1–2). Berlin and Zürich: Atlantis. Frobenius, L. 1931b. Erythräa. Länder und Zeiten des heiligen Königsmordes. Berlin and Zürich: Atlantis Verlag. Frobenius, L. 1931c. Des Menschen Schicksal auf dieser Erde. Der Erdball 5 (4): 145–158; 5 (5): 180–197. Frobenius, L. 1932. Schicksalskunde im Sinne des Kulturwerdens. Leipzig: Voigtländer. Frobenius, L. 1933. Kulturgeschichte Afrikas: Prolegomena zu einer historischen Gestaltlehre. Zürich: Phaidon. Frobenius, L. 1936a. Unser Beitrag zur Felsbildforschung, in L. Frobenius (ed.) Das Urbild, Cicerone zur vorgeschichtlichen Reichsbildergalerie: 5–22. Frankfurt: Forschungsinstitut für Kulturmorphologie. Frobenius, L. 1936b. DIAFE XII Abessinien Abteilung (unter Dr. Jensen), in A. E. Jensen (ed.) Im Lande des Gada. Wanderungen zwischen Volkstrümmern Südabessiniens: v–xi. Stuttgart: Strecker und Schröder. Frobenius, L. 1936c. Histoire de la civilisation africaine. Paris: Gallimard. Frobenius, L. 1937. Ekade Ektab. Die Felsbilder Fezzans. Leipzig: Harrasowitz. Gauthier, É.-F. 1921. Les premiers résultats de la mission Frobenius. Revue africaine 62: 47–61. Gauthier, É.-F. 1934. Rapport sur la mission GautierReygasse de 1934. Comptes rendus des séances de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres 78 (2): 149– 160. Gautier, É.-F. 1916. Nouvelles stations de gravures rupestres nord-africaines. L’Anthropologie 27: 27–45. Gautier, É.-F. 1939. L’art rupestre au Hoggar. Revue des Deux Mondes 49 (3): 695–705. Geisenhainer, K. 2002. [...] zwischen ‚Paideuma‘ und der ‚Rassenseele‘. Adolf Ellegard Jensen und die Auseinandersetzung um die Frobenius-Nachfolge, in K. Gneisenhauer and K. Lange (eds) Bewegliche Horizonte (Festschrift Bernhard Streck): 376–402. Leipzig: Universitätsverlag. Geisenhainer, K. 2019. Das Institut in Zeiten von Diktatur und Kieg, in Museum Giersch and Frobenius-Institut (eds) Frobenius – Die Kunst des Forschens: 47–55. Petersberg: Michael Imhof Verlag.

Georget, J.-L., H. Ivanoff and R. Kuba (eds). 2016. Kulturkreise. Leo Frobenius und seine Zeit. Berlin: Dietrich Reimer. Gingrich, A. 2005. The German speaking countries, in F. Barth et al. (eds) One discipline, four ways : British, German, French, and American Anthropology: 60–153. Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press. Heinrichs, H.-J. 1998. Die fremde Welt, das bin ich. Leo Frobenius. Ethnologe, Forschungsreisender, Abenteurer. Wuppertal: Peter Hammer–Verlag. Ivanoff, H. 2016. Exposer l’art préhistorique africain: Le Paris de Leo Frobenius au début des années 1930, in J.-L- Georget, H. Ivanoff and R. Kuba (eds) Kulturkreise. Leo Frobenius und seine Zeit: 267–286. Berlin: Reimer. Kohl, K.-H., R. Kuba and H. Ivanoff (eds). 2016. Kunst der Vorzeit. Felsbilder aus der Sammlung Frobenius. München: Prestel. Kramer, F.W. 1985. Empathy – reflections on the history of ethnology in pre-fascist Germany: Herder, Creuzer, Bastian, Bachofen, and Frobenius. Dialectical Anthropology 9 (1/4): 337–347. Kramer, F.W. 2005. Die Aktualität des Exotischen. Der Fall der ‚Kulturmorphologie‘ von Frobenius und Jensen, in F.W. Kramer (ed.) Schriften zur Ethnologie: 27–43. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Kuba, R. 2010. Travelling Frobenius, in R. Kuba and M. Hambolu (eds) Nigeria 100 Years Ago – Through the Eyes of Leo Frobenius and his Expedition Team: 43–54. Frankfurt am Main: Frobenius-Institut. Kuba, R. 2014. Ein Ethnologe auf dem Kriegspfad. Leo Frobenius und der Erste Weltkrieg, in B. Burkard (ed.) Gefangene Bilder – Wissenschaft und Propaganda im ersten Weltkrieg: 102–115. Petersberg, Michael Imhof Verlag. Kuba, R. 2015. Leo Frobenius‘ Afrikareisen (1904–1935). Frankfurter Geographische Hefte 70: 129–159. Kuba, R. 2016a. Leo Frobenius in New York: Felsbilder im Museum of Modern Art, in K.H. Kohl, R. Kuba and H. Ivanoff (eds) Kunst der Vorzeit. Felsbilder aus der Sammlung Frobenius: 186–199. München: Prestel. Kuba, R. 2016b. Aus Wüsten und Höhlen in die Metropolen. Die Felsbildexpeditionen von Leo Frobenius, in K.H. Kohl, R. Kuba and H. Ivanoff (eds) Kunst der Vorzeit. Felsbilder aus der Sammlung Frobenius: 54–69. München: Prestel. Kühn, H. 1965. Eiszeitkunst – Die Geschichte ihrer Erforschung. Göttingen: Musterschmidt. Lewis-Williams, J.D. 1981. Believing and seeing: symbolic meanings in southern San rock painting. London: Academic Press. Marchand, S. 1997. Leo Frobenius and the revolt against the West. Journal of Contemporary History 32: 153–170. Mayer, R. 2013. What was Contemporary Art?. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press. Meinhof, C. 1912. Die Sprachen der Hamiten. Hamburg: Friederichsen.

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Richard Kuba and Martin Porr Seibert, E. 2014. Prähistorische Malerei im Museum of Modern Art in New York (1937). Kunsttexte.de 2. Accessed 10 June 2019. https://edoc.hu-berlin.de/ bitstream/handle/18452/7990/seibert.pdf Senghor, L.S. 1973. Les Leçons de Leo Frobenius, in E. Haberland (ed.) Leo Frobenius une Anthologie: 1–7. Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner. Soyinka, W. 1986. This Past Must Address Its Present. Nobel Lecture. Accessed 10 June 2019. https:// www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/ laureates/1986/soyinka-lecture.html Spengler, O. 1918. Der Untergang des Abendlandes. Umrisse einer Morphologie der Weltgeschichte, vol. 1: Gestalt und Wirklichkeit. Wien: Braumüller. Spengler, O. 1922. Der Untergang des Abendlandes. Umrisse einer Morphologie der Weltgeschichte. vol. 2: Welthistorische Perspektiven. München: C. H. Beck. Stocking, G.W. 1987. Victorian Anthropology. New York: Free Press. Streck, B. 2014. Leo Frobenius. Afrikaforscher, Ethnologe, Abenteurer. Frankfurt am Main: Societätsverlag. Sylvain, R. 1996. Leo Frobenius. From Kulturkreis to Kulturmorphologie. Anthropos 91 (4–6): 483–494. Wolf, E.A. 1982. Europe and the people without history. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Museum Giersch and Frobenus-Instiut. 2019. Frobenius – Die Kunst des Forschens. Petersberg: Michael Imhof Verlag. Obermaier, H. 1919/1920. Das Paläolithikum und Epipaläolithikum Spaniens. Anthropos 14/15 (1/3): 143–179. Penny, H.G. and M. Bunzel. 2003. Worldly Provincialism: German Anthropology in the Age of Empire. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Pfisterer, U. 2007. Altamira – oder: Die Anfänge von Kunst und Kunstwissenschaft, in U. Fleckner, W. Kemp, G. Mattenklott, M. Wagner, and M. Warnke (eds) Die Gärten von Capri: 13–80. Berlin: Akademie-Verlag. Radcliffe-Brown, A. 1925. Review of ‘Atlas Africanus’, ‘Das unbekannte Afrika’ and ‘Hadschra Maktuba’ by L. Frobenius. American Anthropologist, New Series 27(2): 325–329. Reinach, S. 1903. L’art et la magie à propos des peintures et des gravures de l’Âge du Renne. L’Anthropologie 14: 257–266. Scheer, M., C. Marchetti and R. Johler. 2010. ’A Time Like No Other’: The Impact of the Great War on European Anthropology, in R. Johler, C. Marchetti and M. Scheer (eds) Doing Anthropology in wartime and war zones: 9–26. Bielefeld: transcript.

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Chapter 9

History debunked: Endeavours in rewriting the San past from the Indigenous rock art archive Sam Challis Abstract Rock art images are historical data in their own right – forming an archive that far pre-dates written texts in many regions, and far outstrips other forms of material culture in terms of potential to interpret past ontologies. Just as one learns to read text, though, the language of rock art requires an understanding of emic – inside – knowledge (whether direct or by analogy) to be truly fathomed. Knowing when images were made, however, is crucial in application to culture contact and its ramifications. Although some direct radiometric dates are starting to appear in southern Africa, it arguably makes more sense to rely on images that demonstrate contact unequivocally – cattle, sheep, horses, guns – than to speculate on an undated corpus of wild animals and human figures that runs to many thousands of years prior. Not only this but it becomes increasingly clear that essentialist tropes of San from the ethnographic present didn’t obtain in the colonial contact era, if ever they held at all. Mixed authorship, it transpires, requires alternative readings and this offering chronicles just some of the attempts to achieve better ways of applying rock art data to the past of Indigenous southern Africans.

A decade ago Ben Smith (2010) published his take on the collective efforts of rock art researchers to perceive the passage of time in hunter-gatherer rock art, Envisioning San history. Now, and in this volume dedicated to the history of rock art research, it seems apposite to review those efforts in the light of the scholarship that has followed – much of it stemming from the issues he problematised, as well as the answers offered to some of the long-standing questions he synthesised. In short, it is the story of archaeologists trying to put the San back into a history from which they had been effectively removed. Aron Mazel’s history (1992) of how the San were perceived by colonists and early historians charts exactly this: the reasons given for their having been written out of the record or, at best, romanticised as harmless, mystical ecologists frozen in time (cf. LewisWilliams et al. 1993; Mazel 1992: 765; Wright 1978). This is a selective account of the scholarly efforts to use archaeology, and rock art in particular, to redress those errors. The first part reviews the endeavours to find, in the rock art of ‘traditional’ appearance, evidence for change through time owing to contact between Powerful Pictures (Archaeopress 2022): 89–104

autochthonous hunter-gatherer artists and incoming African pastoralists, African Farmers and European colonists. The second part reviews the endeavours to chart said contact and change in bodies of rock art that display ‘foreign’ introductions – the diagnostic ‘contact’ images. To write a rock art history Working from the position that paintings and engravings made by the San and other rock art producers involved in the entanglements of the last two millennia of contact engage in some way with those entanglements, they constitute an Indigenous archive – one that enhances and contests other sources. This is especially pertinent to the colonial era whose written documents (whether original material or subsequent readings) weigh so heavily in the balance of evidence. Rock art, it has been argued, provides a reverse gaze (Ouzman 2003). It speaks to us across the centuries from the perspective of its makers, and there is a history of research into its decipherment. Reading rock art, writing history, Thomas Dowson’s 1994 breakthrough piece asserting that images have the potential to exhibit change through time, and why, is precisely this – an exercise in trying to make the archive speak. It was a positive stroke in a back-andforth debate with Aron Mazel, the pre-eminent Later Stone Age archaeologist of Kwazulu-Natal. The debate has been rehearsed elsewhere (e.g. Blundell 2004; Mitchell 2002; Smith 2010), yet it deserves a precis here in order to set the scene for its inception and subsequent unravelling – with some observations that have escaped most critical treatments. The foundations of a social archaeology One only has to read the commentary in LewisWilliams’ 1982 submission to Current Anthropology to see just how ground-breaking it was to apply any theory at all to San paintings, let alone one that dealt with the meaning of so many facets of rock art. A short time after Lewis-Williams’s exposition of the use of materialist theory his student, Colin Campbell (1986, 1987), took up the challenge and applied it to images that (importantly for our purposes here) clearly pertained

Sam Challis to contact – contact between foragers and farmers, and contact between foragers and colonists. His remains one of the best-worked applications of theory to the material culture record and is subsequently muchcited. However, it is not without flaw and, as we shall see, makes errors in assigning authorship which sowed the seeds of confusion concerning key rock art sites. Crucially, though, Campbell was able to show that contact, for the San, was negotiated in their paintings on their own terms and in their own spiritual idiom thus, even when a cattle raid panel appears ‘narrative’ at first glance, for the authors it performed all sorts of ‘functions’ (sensu Lewis-Williams 1982) within San society (Campbell 1987: 124). Campbell (1987: 133) saw the San ‘not as victims of immutable processes but as active participants in the changing circumstances of the contact period’.

networks of paths that extend hundreds of kilometres (Guenther 1999: 28). Ostrich eggshell beads and other items given in gift exchange, therefore, when found in abundance were proof positive of large gatherings where family and exchange partners would meet and engage in social activities – visible in the material culture record (Mazel 1989a, 1989b; Wadley e.g. 1989). Kalahari San life is organised around such seasonal aggregations in which family bands come together to hunt, and feast; manufacture clothing, adornments and tools; exchange news, stories and dreams; arrange marriages and initiations; and to both exchange and perform ceremonial techniques such as dancing (for negotiating with the spirits of animals and humans, healing and rainmaking) and, crucially for groups outside the Kalahari, making rock art (Guenther 1999: 25). Both Patricia Vinnicombe (1976) and Patrick Carter (1978) had hypothesised that some groups of San migrated from all over the southern African lowlands into the highlands of the Maloti-Drakensberg in order to pursue the summer aggregation of large game and to aggregate themselves for the aforementioned reasons. The high-altitude paintings were made seasonally and, according to Lewis-Williams original hypothesis (1981) reflected all of these concerns.

Publishing his thesis in the Natal Museum Journal of Humanities, Mazel ‘s People making history (1989a) set out a position that he could discern, from eight rock shelter excavations, the history of Thukela Basin hunter-gatherers from 10,000 BP to AD 1800. This was refined in a more specific article (Mazel 1989b) in which he claimed to be able to see something of the Changing social relations of this region, though from 7000 to 2000 BP. Acknowledging the intellectual lead taken by David Lewis-Williams in the first half of that decade (LewisWilliams 1982, 1983, 1984), Mazel (1989a: 25) argued for a shift in emphasis away from the environmentally deterministic New Archaeology of the 1960s and ‘70s – instead of asking people-to-nature questions, we should ask people-to-people questions – in favour of a more social archaeology.

Furthermore, Mazel and Wadley saw gender relations playing out in their respective research areas. Wadley (1989: 43–45) determined formal seating positions for men’s and women’s artefact production areas within the communal occupation, across time, at Jubilee Shelter in the Magaliesberg. Mazel (1989b) saw the devaluation of the female role in hunter-gatherer society being actively challenged and redressed by women harnessing the social relations and forces of production to their own ends. Between 4000 and 2000 BP there is supposedly a visible increase in plant food exploitation, small game hunting/trapping and fishing – all associated with women. An increase in the number of adzes for the woodworking of digging sticks, and of grindstones for preparing plant foods attests (Mazel 1989b: 34–39) to an increase in the female contribution to the diet and therefore increased levels of political and economic power for women. The enterprise to reach social understandings was now up and running. Such bold steps (Mazel 1989b: 39), however, were bound to attract attention, not least from those whose data did not fit the hypothesis.

Adopting an historical materialist approach, Mazel adduced excavated evidence for aggregation and dispersal phase sites – in much the same way, and at the same time, as Lyn Wadley had in her hypothesis (1987, 1989, 1996). Both Mazel and Wadley saw the frequency of certain types of artefact as evidence for either the aggregation or the dispersal phases of hunter-gatherer life in the Later Stone Age. Of special significance were ostrich eggshell (OES) beads and arrow armatures (linkshafts) which they interpreted in the light of Kalahari Ju|’hoan San ethnography as items associated not just with everyday use, but as gifts exchanged between kin to cement delayed reciprocity networks. A good knife given today, for example, could ensure access to resources in a consanguineal relative’s camp next year, should adverse circumstances demand (Guenther 1999: 28). Extra-kin relationships known among the Ju|’hoansi as hxaro (e.g. Weissner 1998) and among the Nharo as ||ai-ku (Guenther 1986) cultivated over a person’s lifetime can carry such reciprocity beyond even one’s neighbouring camps, radiating along

A false start? In a devastating critique of the historical materialist trend Larry Barham (1992) suggested these frontrunners be recalled. Citing his own excavations in Swaziland (eSwatini), he claimed he had found greater numbers of OES beads in rock shelters that were far too small to

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have been aggregation phase sites (Barham 1992). What works for rock art, he argued, doesn’t necessarily work for ‘dirt’ archaeology (Barham 1992; see also Witelson, this volume), prompting pithy reposts from both Wadley (1992) and Mazel (1993). Whatever the outcome of the debate, at least it got people to think about women (Mitchell 2002: 219) and precipitated greater focus on gender studies (e.g. Wadley 1997).

The misrepresentation is indeed egregious, although it had unforeseen ramifications that have played out over the decades since, not least Dowson’s own attempts to construct San history with rock art, and all that this implied. In Mazel’s (1993: 889–90) response he stated that, even if he had committed the ‘host of crimes’ of which he stood accused, one still couldn’t reliably incorporate rock art in a history, since there was no chronology for it. Moreover he called LewisWilliams’ (1993: 49) bluff that ‘…much of the art can be sufficiently dated…’ which could only then have conceivably applied to ‘contact’ images of sheep, cattle and horses (Manhire et al. 1986; Campbell 1986, 1987) and by extension, shields, spears and guns (Challis 2012 inter alia; Sinclair-Thomson 2016, 2019). As we shall see, absolute dates recently obtained by Adelphine Bonneau and colleagues (e.g. Bonneau et al. 2017) have significantly altered the situation. In the early ‘90s, though, Mazel had a point: the rock art of the traditional corpus was dateless, and though he recognised the rock art as containing, somehow, the history of its producers, this would remain opaque, he said, until it could be well ordered (Mazel 1993: 891).

A major difficulty here is that finding ostrich eggshell beads or what we think are arrow armatures patently does not prove the presence of Ju|’hoan-like hxaro gift exchange networks… (Mitchell 2016: 412). But finding evidence that they travelled very long distances does. Since having said this, Brian Stewart et al. (2020, including Mitchell) have gone on to show the likelihood that hxaro-like exchange networks have probably obtained, between the arid southern African interior and the wetter Lesotho Highlands, since the Middle Stone Age. Strontium isotopes on ostrich eggshell beads declare their provenance to be anywhere but the Highlands, some beads travelling 300 km distance from 33,000 years ago until the late Holocene (Stewart et al. 2020: 6457). This means it is possible for archaeology and ethnography to interdigitate, with results resonating across millennia, as long as they are substantiated with testable hypotheses – as opposed to the arbitrary application of ethnographic labels to material that bears a vague resemblance to something in the ethnographic present (d’Errico et al. 2012; Pargeter et al. 2016).

No need for dates The perceived problem here was, and still is, that because the rock art of the traditional corpus and its widely-accepted interpretations were suspended in the ethnographic present, their findings could not be projected far back in time. How can you know what you’re looking at if you don’t know when it was made? The allegations of ahistoricity in the shamanistic approach had prompted Lewis-Williams’ (1993: 49) reaction to the ‘incorrigible chronophiles’ so obsessed with determining when things had taken place, as opposed to how or why. It is the processes at play in society that one can see unfolding in rock art, that matter (Lewis-Williams 1982, 1995, 1998). Indeed Dowson (1993: 642) called for nothing less than a new concept of history, one:

Sometimes overlooked in this debate, however, is that Dowson (1993) went on a similar offensive – for all the talk of OES beads, arrow armatures, adzes and grindstones the excavators had neglected to pay attention to those most visible artefacts: hunter-gatherer images. Mazel, himself a rock art scholar, had inexplicably left the paintings out of his history (Dowson 1993: 641). Mazel’s 1992 cataloguing of the changing light in which the San have been treated in the literature of the preceding 150 years is based on historical documents and thus a ‘value laden Western construct’ (Dowson 1993: 642) despite the fact that he makes frequent reference to his own historical materialist take on the excavated record (Mazel 1989a, 1989b). Not only this but it concludes that the San had no part to play in the making of this history during that time (Mazel 1992: 766). In a misapprehension, and therefore misrepresentation, of Mazel’s article (see Mazel 1993: 889), Dowson (1993: 641) believed that Mazel was attempting to produce a history of the MalotiDrakensberg San from these texts, and was doing it without considering the painted record, at that.

…that breaks from emphasising a chronology of only certain kinds of events, one which accepts other evidence and other kinds of statements and constructions. ‘History’ within the traditional San rock art corpus The difference was that Dowson (1993: 642) thought it could be done, and that rock art could offer far better insights than mere ‘occupational debris’. Where Mazel (1993: 891; 2013: 50) had found no way to weave rock art into his historical materialist narrative, and Barham (1992) had pulled everyone up short for reading too

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Sam Challis much into their artefacts in this manner, Dowson believed that historical materialism rendered San history perceptible. Hot on the heels of the debate with Mazel, Dowson (1994) proposed a relative sequence that could, he said, be seen across much of the MalotiDrakensberg (quite apart from the relative sequences suggested by those who had employed Harris matrices, Russell 2000, 2012; Swart 2004; cf. Mazel 2009, 2013, though see also Pearce 2010). Owing much to Campbell’s (1987) historical materialist approach, Dowson’s structurationist sequence could be discerned among the images of the traditional corpus of rock art. First, however, one had to believe that Maloti-Drakensberg San responded to contact with newcomers the way that Mathias Guenther (1975) had observed the Kalahari Nharo and other ‘Farm Bushmen’ responding in the twentieth century (Dowson 1994, 337). San healers had become more ‘professional’ owing to the complex of new illnesses and new treatments they had to master, their subsequent high demand brought high esteem (Guenther 1975: 163):

(Campbell 1987: 128) of San society by shamans. In Dowson’s structurationist reading one could see this happening, from one site to the next, quite literally in the aggrandisement of human figures: small becoming large, simple becoming elaborate, a focus on groups (communal then consortia) changing to a focus on individuals (‘pre-eminent’ shamans, Dowson 1994: 335– 340; Figure 9.1). In his 1975 The Trance Dancer as an Agent of Social Change, Guenther had observed that the San chose leaders: …to deal with Government on behalf of all of the Bushmen of the District. When the Bushmen on the farms discuss this last issue and debate who could be a suitable headman for the Ghanzi Bushmen, it is often the consensus that this should be one of the great dancers. In Dowson’s (1994) application of this concept to the rock art, Guenther’s ‘dancers of renown’ became ‘preeminent shamans’, displaying, as Campbell (1987) had put it, their symbolic labour for their own and farmer communities to see. They rose to prominence, dealing with spirits-of-the-dead and sicknesses of all sorts, and they became distinguished in the south of the Maloti-Drakensberg – the region where forager/farmer interaction is asserted to have been most protracted (Dowson 1994: 334).

The following qualities of a dancer of renown account for his social importance: he possesses a great amount of ritual, esoteric knowledge; he is wealthy; he is independent of Europeans or Bantu [-speaking] people; he is accorded high prestige and enjoys charismatic appeal. Contact, it transpired, produced conditions ideally suited to an historical materialist interpretation because, if erstwhile egalitarian bands had to elect leaders, or produce goods and services for which they might accrue wealth or kudos, one had the makings of a proto-hierarchy with the ‘eventual domination’

A. Sameness

As befits the model set out by Campbell that rainmakers would have accrued primitive capital (Marx 1867) in cattle, and so formed the beginnings of a class system, Dowson mentions that rainmaking would have been mutually intelligible between hunters and farmers

C. Pre-eminence

B. Consortia

Figure 9.1. After Dowson 1994: Figures 2, 4 and 5.

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(evidence for which is compelling in the in the MalotiDrakensberg rock art, Dowson 1998). Farmers would have to have understood San rainmaking in order for this contract to work. Interestingly, however, Guenther’s observation that San healers acquired new medicinal knowledge to deal with farmer illnesses – such as witchcraft in the African Bantu-speakers’ cosmology – is not mentioned by Dowson. As we shall see in the second section, the incorporation of farmer beliefs and subsequent syncretism appears to have been very much a part of the culturally creolizing groups of the nineteenth-century Maloti-Drakensberg.

Unfortunately, Dowson’s view assumes leadership is desirable or innate – somethings that goes against the grain of Lewis-Williams (1982) original diatribe contra the innatist approaches. It follows the assumption that hierarchies will inevitably form, which suits the historical materialist, and in this instance, the structurationist approaches. More likely would be the propensity for San to attribute to the ‘dancer of renown’, acknowledgement of expertise in that specific theatre, whether they be a particularly adept healer, rainmaker or ‘tamer’ of animals – an explanation from within the San idiom that has been more recently proposed (McGranaghan and Challis 2016) – the audience assessing the individual in terms of their performance, and in the performance of the painting itself (Lewis-Williams 1995; cf. Witelson 2019).

Such selectivity is prerequisite for an interpretive paradigm which requires that rock art remain ‘traditional’ in appearance for at least some time after contact. The most convincing case so far made for this being the aforementioned rainmaking evidence, in which rain animals appear in rock art that exhibits more and more recent features.

And yet leadership does emerge. At least, there are named leaders of multi-ethnic and creolised ‘Bushman’ bands in the nineteenth-century Maloti-Drakensberg; Nqabayo, Mdwebo, Madolo, Mbelekwana, Mjinga, Hans Lochenberg and Soai (Blundell 2004; Challis 2008 inter alia; Jolly 1996b, 2006; Mallen 2008; Mitchell 2010; Vinnicombe 1976; Wright 1971). In the nineteenth century, people would cleave to charismatic individuals – those with whom they saw their interests, and lives, best protected (Etherington 2001). There is little evidence, however for hierarchies (Challis 2008: 253– 257; 2016: 296). Moreover, the hypothetical sequence towards power and prestige, from egalitarian group, through consortia to pre-eminence is undated (Mitchell 2002: 407; Smith 2010: 348–349) and may flow in reverse order for all we know (Challis and Sinclair-Thomson 2022).

Of the many questions one might raise in response to this hypothesis, one that has not yet been highlighted is why the pre-eminent shamans should wish to communicate such self-promotion in paint (even if they had been elected). Strong healing powers are one thing, kudos another, but Guenther himself states (1999: 34) that leadership is only ever taken up with great reluctance: ‘…the position of headman…has not become institutionalised within society. It holds no rewards…’. In fact leadership of the sort hierarchical societies might recognise is ‘unheard of ’ (Barnard 1992: 108; cf. Silberbauer 1982), indeed ‘“all you get is the blame if things go wrong”’ (Marshall 1976: 195).

Figure 9.2. ‘The death of the postcranial body’ marked what Blundell saw as the increased importance of facial features for post-contact ritual specialists. Image courtesy South African Rock Art Digital Archive, www.sarada.co.za. 2b Figures of comparable size almost identical to the ‘pre-eminent Shaman’ at Dowson’s type-site (compare with figure 1c). Image courtesy Alice Mullen.

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Sam Challis In a phenomenological reworking of Dowson’s model, Geoff Blundell (2004) took the pre-eminent shamans for ‘Significantly Differentiated Figures’ – highlighting the attention paid to painting their faces and accoutrements while their bodies diminish in both size and significance – the embodiment of the rise to prominence of these ritual specialists, and the focus on the individual. Taking for his cue the leaders of the nineteenth-century region in which a particular concentration of such images are found, he saw the faces belonging to the nineteenth century, or to the centuries of contact preceding it, when in fact there are no dates to match. Not only this but systematic survey beyond the confines of this vicinity have yielded more Significantly Differentiated Figures across the southern Drakensberg and the Maloti of Lesotho (Challis et al. 2015; Challis 2018). While this might not pose a problem to the hypothesis per se, the discovery of figures virtually identical to that at Dowson’s type-site all painted large, elaborated and clustered together in a group, does (Mullen 2018: Figure 9.2).

is not an indication of age as has been argued, since different white pigments age differently (Mullen 2020). Carbon black in paint samples from shaded polychrome eland at sites with SDFs has returned radiometric dates well over 2000 years, thus placing those particular specimens out of reach of any contact (e.g. Bonneau et al. 2017; cf. Mullen 2018: 69–78). The chief difficulty with the pre-eminent or significantly-differentiated shaman argument is (until absolute dates are secured) that it is not applied to any demonstrable contact images. History in contact rock art images In Reading art, writing history, Dowson (1994) submitted the concept that Maloti-Drakensberg paintings of people changed through time in a way that is measurable against what we know from Guenther (1975) of the internal workings of Kalahari San society during contact and this, as we have seen, was also used by Colin Campbell. However Campbell’s (1986, 1987) interpretations had at least the advantage of their application to art produced, demonstrably for the most part, in the contact and colonial eras. We have Campbell (1986) to thank for the realisation that images of conflict between warring sides, ought not to be seen as literal narratives of actual combat, but the fighting off of the (no less ‘real’ for San healers) spirits-of-thedead. Conflict in contact might even bear the hallmarks of this phenomenon; the spirits-of-the-dead wielding iron axes for instance (Campbell 1986: 257, 265).

It would be nice to think that changes owing to contact were observable within the traditional corpus, especially since evidence for cultural borrowing is attested at increasingly early dates – residues on pottery at Likoaeng and Sehonghong in the Lesotho Highlands have recently yielded evidence of dairying by hunter-gatherers at c.1000 cal BP (Fewlass et al. 2020). The ‘shaded polychromes’ that San rock art is famous for may well have continued throughout contact and into the historical era, although there is no evidence it did (Mullen 2018). White paint, moreover,

The problem for many scholars, it seems, is that the foreign material culture which defines the rock art of

Figure 9.3. After Campbell 1987, people wearing brimmed hats float next to trance-related horse images with fringed streamer tails. Image courtesy SARADA.

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the contact period – shields, spears, then horses and guns – engenders essentialist tropes. Fat tailed sheep, for some, meant that Khoe herders must have been nearby (e.g. Cooke 1965) as opposed to their being an indication of pastoralism itself. The logical explanation, it seemed, for cattle images in the Maloti-Drakensberg, was that they had been seen by San and ‘recorded’ in their parietal diaries. At best, cattle and horses might be afforded the status of those stolen by the hunters for food, and ‘logged’ in the paintings as such (Willcox 1963: plate 36 op.83; Lee and Woodhouse 1970: 153). Worse assumptions prevailed over the colonial era images, such that ‘man on horse with hat’ or ‘man with gun’ were Europeans; Boers or British soldiers (e.g. Vinnicombe 1976: fig. 15a; Campbell 1987: 116; Dowson 1993: 643; 2007: 54) even when, as Campbell himself pointed out, the hat-wearers were themselves trancing (Figure 9.3).

farmers, is complex – a variant of the San trance dance being adopted for its association with access to potency, of animals for the San but of ancestors for the Nguni; the San trickster deity |kaggen, manifesting, in part, in the Cape Nguni witch familiar, uthikoloshe (HammondTooke 2002: 282). Owing to their differential occurrence from one region to the next, however, Hammond-Tooke (2002) surmises that such partially-integrated beliefs appear in variant forms and levels in different instances of interaction. In a somewhat functionalist reading: as and when needed. A critique that might be applied to all of the aforementioned authors is that, in their attempts to rewrite San history, they could be accused of not having re-read San history, for, almost every contemporary ethno-historical record attests to the mixed or hybrid nature of the ‘Bushman’ bands of the nineteenth century. This was not lost on historians Patricia Vinnicombe (e.g. 1960, 1976) and John Wright (1971) but it was not followed through to its logical conclusion where rock art authorship is concerned. Geoff Blundell (2004) detailed the ethnic constitution of the band that was the subject of his thesis – that of Nqabayo, the alleged authors of the Significantly Differentiated Figures (or some of them), yet in this reading, their multiethnicity resulted in an overdetermination (sensu Voss 2008: 37) of San-ness rather than any syncretism in their beliefs. As we shall see, however, most if not all of the demonstrably historical rock art exhibiting cattle, horses, hats and guns, displays syncretic beliefs in culturally-creolised art forms. The endeavour, then, should be to take the more salient points of the ‘direction-of-flow’ work of both Jolly and HammondTooke, that is to say the great complexity of interaction, and introduce the historically-attested ethnogenetic borderland groups that are more likely to have made the images that Campbell and Jolly had cited in their evidence.

Two further problems are corollaries of this: first, that the artists are imagined to conform to conventionalised ethnic categories, the results of contact translated in terms of the reinforcement of such bounded entities and their stereotypes. Particularly that San, forced into the margins, kept themselves apart when quite the reverse is more evident (Mazel 1989a, 1989b; Thorp 1997; Forssman 2014, 2017). Second, that the results of contact in the form of miscegenation go unresolved in the face of evidence in the archive which speaks of hybridisation in mixed-, multi-ethnic and ethnogenetic group formations (Blundell 2004; Challis 2014, 2016; Henry 2010; Ouzman 2005; Mallen 2008; Wright 2007). This seems to have been the case in the observations of Pieter Jolly, whose Master’s dissertation Strangers to Brothers (1994) focuses on cultural mixing and intermarriage. Establishing an impressive body of evidence for ‘symbiosis’ between the San and their African farmer neighbours, with the acknowledgement that some artists might be the progeny of mixed marriages, these communities remain mutually discrete in their connection (Jolly 1995, 1996a, 1996b). In this scenario rock art images remain the product of influence – the traditional fine line art taking on features of isiNtuspeakers’ initiation and divination ceremonies.

First, though, how did contact and interaction materialise or ‘show through’ in hunter-gatherer rock art? First, there is the vast corpus of so-called ‘geometric’ rock art in the central arid interior and partially in the Maloti, which for many years was thought to express an abstract iteration of the tranceinduced entoptic phenomena (e.g. Dowson 1992) but which has subsequently come to be recognised as having a distinct pastoralist inflection. Smith and Ouzman (2004) lean towards a Khoekhoen signature while Morris (e.g. 2006) and Hollmann (e.g. 2007) advocate authorship that is at the same time Khoe and San, or Khoe-San – seeing actual items of material culture (Apron and bag decorations, tattoos, body paint and headdresses) in the so-called ‘geometrics’; items that are equally at home in both Khoe and San girls’

The anthropologist David Hammond-Tooke’s response to this took shape from his own experiences working with isiNtu-speaking societies in which San beliefs were intimately integrated (Hammond-Tooke 1998, 1999). With a focus on the Nguni-speaking farmers, this drew attention in terms of the direction of influence in the opposite direction from Jolly. Anthropologically however, as one might expect, the rationale behind Hammond-Tooke’s demonstration as to how and why San religion might become mixed into that of African

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Figure 9.4. The capture of a manifestation of !khwa, the rain snake or water snake. Image by author and Jeremy Hollmann.

Figure 9.5a. Shield-bearing warrior in the Maloti-Drakensberg. Image courtesy SARADA. Figure 9.5b. Bull sacrifice of the ‘first fruits’ festival. Image courtesy Jeremy Hollmann.

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initiation rites (Hollmann 2014), although the images are assuredly post-contact. Personal adornment and beautification were to appease, and establish good relations with the water snake - in |Xam terms, !khwa.

this instance the motif shows a crescent-shaped iron axe raised above the neck of a sacrificial bull [fig 5b]; further evidence of hunter-gatherer engagement in matters ritual of other communities and confirmation, moreover, of the pervasive phenomenon of reverence for the autochthonous first peoples as keepers of arcane knowledge, powerful magic and medicines tied to the land (e.g. Peires 1981: 65).

Clientship and patronage Dowson had long suspected that beliefs in the acquisition of rain (from !khwa) were cross-cultural and that the preponderance of rain-making related rock art in the southern Maloti-Drakensberg reflected the protracted relations there between San and farmers – the former making rain for the latter (e.g. Dowson 1994, 1995). He later developed more nuanced reasoning for this scenario, such that fine-line rock art may, in this instance frame something of the client–patron relationship that appears to have prevailed (Dowson 1998; cf. Jolly 1994). Whether or not one believes this led to the aggrandisement of particular rainmakers is debateable, as we have seen.

First peoples, reverence and memory A tie to the land and first peoples may, in fact be discernible in rock art traditions produced by ‘Sanadjacent’ (sensu Skinner 2017) communities that may have, owing to processes of contact and colonisation, become disconnected from their traditions and wished to express a connection with it, however reconfigured (Challis and Sinclair-Thomson 2022). In a recent article, Challis and Sinclair-Thomson (2022) review the impact of contact and colonisation on the Indigenous worldview, rock art and history of southern Africa. In it we set out the nature of contact between Indigenous hunter-gatherers and all of the aforementioned incoming economies – herder, farmer and colonist, and the effects of these contacts that are visible in rock art (at least, as they appear to us). The effects, of course, are many and varied, materialising in different ways at different times and to varying degrees. However, the overall effects of contact produce, we argue, a ‘disconnect’ from the pre-contact corpus (one that is now demonstrably pre-contact as per radiometric dates, Bonneau et al. 2017). Images of cattle, shields and spears, as well as Hollman’s ‘first fruits’ bull

More recently, Brent Sinclair-Thomson (2016; Challis and Sinclair-Thomson 2022) has proposed that images of Bantu-speaking warriors with shields might, instead of a ‘record of events’, be those who had commissioned for themselves to be painted in such a way as to exhibit their acquisition of special protective medicines that only the San could provide (Figure 9.5a). In another development of the patron/client or service provider concept, Jeremy Hollmann (2015) has found clear imagery of San (presumed, owing to the fineline technique) involvement in African agriculturalist ‘first fruits’ ceremonies (cf. Guenther 1999: 88). In

Figure 9.6. Eland antelope painted in the poster-like manner associated with the ‘Disconnect’. Image by author.

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Sam Challis sacrifice are all affected by change insofar as they differ in technique – becoming more block-colour and posterlike (Loubser and Laurens 1994: 89, 102) as well as more vivid and chalky (Challis and Sinclair-Thomson 2022). Yet there are distinct continuities. The most stark ‘reverence’ for that which had gone before is apparent in the images of eland antelope which, previously, were painted to achieve an almost photographic likeness but, post-disconnect, become abstracted from this convention, more ‘crude’, more vivid, and more chalky (Figure 9.6). Whether these poster-like images were made by ‘ethnic San’, or by the progeny of inter-ethnic marriages through the centuries is not certain, but these images represent a maintenance or replication of ideas held by the San, in the face of the breakdown of Khoe-San trade routes (Harinck 1969) – access to preferred pigments becoming increasingly restricted – and the decimation of Khoe-San society: access to friends, relatives and the wider community becoming increasingly unfeasible (Challis and Sinclair-Thomson 2022).

Figure 9.7. Horse and rider on the Strandberg. Skinner 2017, fig 24, courtesy Andrew Skinner.

Challis and Skinner 2021). In the heartland of the |Xam San (the informants of the famous nineteenth-century Lloyd-Bleek study) hundreds of horse images made on the patinated boulders of the Strandberg must have been made in a brief florescence of production:

Violence, resistance and redeployment It is against the background of marginalisation, the decimation of Indigenous society and the breakdown of communications routes that much of the colonial contact imagery should be viewed. Not only did the communication of trade items and the beliefs that accompanied them become more difficult to maintain, but the concerns of the artists themselves were increasingly altered. New materials entered the subcontinent, sometimes independent of, and sometimes with, the societies that produced them – sheep, cattle, dogs, iron, ceramics, shields spears, guns, horses and wagons – all of which required negotiation or as Andrew Skinner (2017) has put it, ‘brokerage’ (cf.

…significant both for its scale relative to the other classes of imagery at the site, and the implication of frontier conditions in the content itself. (Skinner 2017: 135) Noting that this rocky part of the Karoo desert cannot support horses for any length of time and that horses likely passed through, bringing violent elements of the hybrid societies that emerged beyond the colony (Skinner 2017: 179; cf. McGranaghan 2016) these animals would have to have been ‘brokered’ with, placed on the rock in order to familiarise them within the |Xam

Figure 9.8. ‘Magical arts’ of the Korana raiders. Image SARADA, courtesy Sven Ouzman.

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Figure 9.9. At the headwaters of the Mancazana, images made by ‘Bushmen, Hottentots and runaway slaves’. Image by author; enhancement by Brent Sinclair-Thomson.

Figure 9.10. AmaTola ‘Bushmen’ in trance dance postures, acquiring horse and baboon features in ritualised affirmation of their raiding economy and the desire for supernatural protection. Image by author.

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Sam Challis epistemology, yet in a way that would have made sense to nineteenth-century Korana as well (Figure 9.7).

(Sinclair-Thomson 2021). Hidden rock shelters in this locality have revealed images of livestock: block-colour, fine-line paintings of fat-tailed sheep, cattle, horses with riders holding muskets – and rain-animals. The rain animals speak to the maintenance of Khoe-San beliefs even in the face of unprecedented change. In the 1970s Patricia Vinnicombe had suggested that rain-animals in stock theft rock art surely signified the summoning of the rain to conceal the raiders, wash away their tracks and thwart their pursuers (Vinnicombe 1976: 52). Incorporated in these images of contact are Indigenous animals which at first glance seem incongruous. It transpires, however, that ostriches symbolise for Khoe-San the ability to escape (jumping, as they do, the hunters’ nets), a quality most desirable for fugitives (Sinclair-Thomson and Challis 2020). Baboons, too, are painted alongside images of horses and other colonial-era motifs (Figure 9.9).

The historically-specific iteration of Khoe-ness that became the Korana could tap into a number of essentialised ethnicities owing to their multi-ethnic roots and ethnogenetic acquisitiveness. Khoe, San, Griqua, Bergenaars and outlaw Europeans were all contributors and their art arguably reflects their historically-contingent concerns, as noted by Sven Ouzman (2005, Figure 9.8) who had originally pieced together the otherwise-anomalous collection of sites in the eastern Free State region. It seems, however that a swathe of ‘swan-necked’ incised horse images extends further, from the Strandberg to the highlands of Lesotho, constituting ‘equine ephemera’ created as rapidly as the horses could carry it (Skinner and Challis in prep). Horses made the Korana, as they did many smaller, though no less significant, raiding groups of the late eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, vital as they were to maintaining effective defence against others who already had them or at the very least, enabling escape (Mitchell 2015; Challis 2018 inter alia).

The recent discovery of these sites is particularly gratifying because it had been hypothesised that this was the region of the first formations of the socalled ‘Bushmen, Hottentots and runaway slaves’ (Cape Archives 1850 G.H. 8/23: 414-7) that removed to the high Drakensberg mountains north and east (Challis 2012, 2014, 2016). Indeed, Pringle (1835: 137) recorded that there were no raids in this district after 1826 and it is shortly after this time that the famous ‘Bushman Raiders of the Drakensberg’ appear (Wright 1971). Paintings made from the 1830s onwards in the Maloti-Drakensberg show horses and baboons as well as dancing groups in which people are depicted turning into both of these animals (Figure 9.10).

Taking the Korana-inflected rock art as a cue, Lara Mallen (2008: 136) was able to accurately surmise that much of the previously overlooked finger- and rough brush-painted imagery in the Maclear region further east was, in fact the product of multi-ethnic (though not yet hybrid) groups who had found a new collective identity in stock raiding. Leila Henry (2010) later extrapolated this phenomenon to the wider MaclearTsolo region of the Eastern Cape. Escaped slaves, ostriches and baboons

Khoe, San and African farmer religious beliefs concur, owing to millennia of precolonial interaction and syncretisation, that the baboon is a particularly potent locus of magical power associated with protective medicine (Challis 2014). The baboon itself uses the plant root, known as so-|oa among the |Xam San, |u-sõä among Khoe-speakers and uMabobhe among isiXhosa-speakers, to protect it from projectiles and other harmful forces. This, among other things, is what enables the baboon to raid crops and livestock and escape unharmed.

Scouring of records produced at the end of the eighteenth century, when the Cape Colony of the Dutch East India Company (VOC) met serious resistance from bands of ‘Bosjesmans’ prompted Brent SinclairThomson (2019, 2021, 2022; Sinclair-Thomson and Challis 2017, 2020; Challis and Sinclair-Thomson 2022) to survey the mountain rock shelters of the regions supposed to have been their haunts. The French traveller François Le Vaillant (1972 [1790]: 402, 404) had noted that such ‘Boschis-men’ resembled pirates in their heterogeneity, with adherents of all backgrounds (Sinclair-Thomson 2021). The British 1820 settler and abolitionist Thomas Pringle (1835: 98) noted that depredations on his farm were being committed by a group comprising San, escaped slaves of both Khoe-San and foreign descent, as well as military deserters with firearms. Referred to with the catch-all phrase of the day, ‘Bushmen, Hottentots and runaway slaves’ these outlaws were supposed to frequent the headwaters of the Mancazana river in the Winterberg (Napier 1849: 226) as well as the adjacent region of the Tarka valley

If Sinclair-Thomson’s Tarka ‘banditti’, and the Mancazana band vacated the Winterberg in 1826, and had relocated to the high Maloti-Drakensberg by the 1830s, the intervening years appear to have earned them many dispossessed and disenfranchised isiXhosaspeaking African adherents from the eastern Cape Anglo-Xhosa wars (e.g. Challis 2012, 2016). Naming themselves for the Xhosa ‘wardoctors’ who protect their warriors with uMabophe, the AmaTola ‘Bushmen’ prosecuted a guerrilla war against the migrant Boer farmers and British settlers, as well 100

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as raiding the other San-inflected groups in their neighbourhood. Much like Skinner’s (2017) observation of the Strandberg rock art, horse imagery in the region inhabited by the AmaTola spikes dramatically, such that horses are second in number only to eland, yet produced in a period of approximately 30 years.

Cape Archives (Government House [G.H.] 23 1850): 417. Statement of William Lochenberg at the Inquiry Held by the Crown Prosecutor Walter Harding and the British Agent in Mpondoland, Henry Francis Fynn, 29th March 1850. Carter, P. 1978.  The prehistory of eastern Lesotho. Cambridge: Unpublished Doctoral dissertation, University of Cambridge. Challis, S. 2008. The impact of the horse on the AmaTola ‘Bushmen’: new identity in the Maloti-Drakensberg mountains of southern Africa. Oxford: Unpublished Doctoral dissertation, University of Oxford. Challis, S. 2012. Creolisation on the nineteenth-century frontiers of southern Africa: A case study of the AmaTola ‘Bushmen’ in the Maloti-Drakensberg. Journal of Southern African Studies 38 (2): 265–280. Challis, S. 2014. Binding beliefs: The creolisation process in a ‘Bushman’ raider group in nineteenth-century southern Africa, in J. Deacon and P. Skotnes (eds), The courage of ||Kabbo and a century of Specimens of Bushman folklore: 246–264. Johannesburg: Jacana. Challis, S. 2016. Re-tribe and resist: The ethnogenesis of a creolised raiding band in response to colonization, in C. Hamilton and N. Leibhammer (eds), Tribing and untribing the archive: Identity and the material record in southern KwaZulu-Natal in the late independent and colonial periods: 282–299. Berkeley: University of California Press; Pietermaritzburg: University of KwaZulu-Natal Press. Challis, S. 2018. Creolization in the investigation of rock art of the colonial era, in B. David and I. McNiven (eds), The Oxford Handbook of the Archaeology and Anthropology of Rock Art: 611–633. New York: Oxford University Press. Challis, S., J. Hollmann, and M. McGranaghan. 2013. ‘Rain snakes’ from the Senqu River: New light on Qing’s commentary on San rock art from Sehonghong, Lesotho.  Azania: Archaeological Research in Africa 48 (3): 331–354. Challis, S., A. Mullen, and J. Pugin. 2015. Rock art and baseline archaeological survey of the Sehlabathebe National Park, Kingdom of Lesotho. Final Report to the World Heritage Committee of the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO). Challis, S. and A. Skinner. 2021. Art and influence, presence and navigation in Southern African forager landscapes. Religions 12: 1099. Challis, S. and B. Sinclair-Thomson. 2022. The impact of contact and colonisation on the Indigenous worldview, rock art and history of southern Africa: ‘The Disconnect’. Current Anthropology 63 (6). Cooke, C. 1965. Evidence of human migrations from the rock art of Southern Rhodesia. Africa 35 (3): 263–285. d’Errico, F., L. Backwell, P. Villa, I. Degano, J. Lucejko, M. Bamford, T. Higham, M. Perla Colombini, and

This fine line rock art was not, however, made by San. Nor was it made by Xhosa, Khoe, Coloured, Korana, outlaw Europeans, deserters or runaway slaves but by a constantly reconstituting amalgam of all these. Once one examines the historical context in which images were likely being made, the categories of person (especially artist groups) are quite different to those which previous scholars had presented to us. Therefore there is an effective decommissioning of the bounded group – at least in terms of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. The groups themselves are not wholly taken out of commission yet their essentialist ethnic identities can no longer be said to obtain. Identity instead coalescing around new forms of emergent society, albeit founded on culturally coherent and cognate precedents. This is the process of creolisation (Challis 2012, 2014, 2016, 2018). Treating contact and historical images (cattle, shields, horses and guns and so forth), not as records of events, nor markers of ethnicity, but as expressions of indigeneity in the face of change, takes the authors out of their frozen state in the ethnographic present – the San stereotype interacting with more contextuallyhistoricised and dynamic Others – and places them at the forefront of history-making in their own right. References Barham, L. 1992. Let’s walk before we run: an appraisal of historical materialist approaches to the Later Stone Age. The South African Archaeological Bulletin 47 (155): 44–51. Barnard, A. 1992. Hunters and herders of southern Africa: A comparative ethnography of the Khoisan peoples. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Blundell, G. 2004. Nqabayo’s Nomansland: San rock art and the somatic past. Uppsala: Uppsala University Press. Bonneau, A., D. Pearce, P. Mitchell, R.Staff, C. Arthur, L. Mallen, F. Brock, and T. Higham. 2017. The earliest directly dated rock paintings from southern Africa: New AMS radiocarbon dates. Antiquity 91 (356): 322– 333. Campbell, C. 1986. Images of war: A problem in San rock art research. World Archaeology 18 (2): 255–268. Campbell, C. 1987. Art in crisis: Contact period rock art in the south-eastern mountains of southern Africa. Johannesburg: Unpublished  Master’s dissertation, University of the Witwatersrand.

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Sam Challis Hammond-Tooke, D. 2002. The uniqueness of Nguni mediumistic divination in southern Africa. Africa 72 (2): 277–292. Harinck, G. 1969. Interaction between Xhosa and Khoi: Emphasis on the period 1620–1750, in L. Thompson (ed.), African Societies in Southern Africa: 145–170. London: Heinemann. Henry, L. 2010. Rock art and the contested landscape of the North Eastern Cape, South Africa. Johannesburg: Unpublished Master’s dissertation. University of the Witwatersrand. Hollmann, J. 2007. The ‘cutting edge’ of rock art: Motifs and other markings on Driekuil Hill, North West Province, South Africa.  Southern African Humanities 19 (1): 123–151. Hollmann, J. 2014. ‘Geometric’ motifs in Khoe-San rock art: Depictions of designs, decorations and ornaments in the Gestoptefontein-Driekuil Complex, South Africa. Journal of African Archaeology  12 (1): 25–42. Hollmann, J. 2015. Allusions to agriculturist rituals in hunter-gatherer rock art? eMkhobeni Shelter, northern Ukhahlamba-Drakensberg, KwaZuluNatal, South Africa. African Archaeological Review 32 (3): 505–535. Jolly, P. 1994. Strangers to brothers: Interaction between south-eastern San and southern Nguni/Sotho communities. Cape Town: Unpublished Master’s dissertation, University of Cape Town. Jolly, P. 1995. Melikane and Upper Mangolong revisited: The possible effects on San art of symbiotic contact between south-eastern San and southern Sotho and Nguni communities. South African Archaeological Bulletin 50: 68–80. Jolly, P. 1996a. Symbiotic interaction between black farmers and south-eastern San: Implications for southern African rock art studies, ethnographic analogy, and hunter-gatherer cultural identity. Current Anthropology 37 (2): 277–305. Jolly, P. 1996b. Interaction between south-eastern San and southern Nguni and Sotho communities c. 1400 to c. 1880. South African Historical Journal 35 (1): 30– 61. Jolly, P. 2006. The San rock painting from ‘The Upper Cave at Mangolong’, Lesotho. South African Archaeological Bulletin 61 (183): 68–75. Lee, N., and H. Woodhouse.  1970. Art on the rocks of southern Africa. New York: Scribner and Sons. Le Vaillant, F. 1972 [1790]. Travels from the Cape of Good Hope into the interior parts of Africa, including many interesting anecdotes, with elegant descriptive of the country and inhabitants... Translated from the French. New York: Johnson Reprint Corporation. Lewis-Williams, J.D. 1981. Believing and seeing:  symbolic meanings in southern  African rock art. New York: Academic Press.

P. Beaumont. 2012. Early evidence of San material culture represented by organic artifacts from Border Cave, South Africa. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 109 (33): 13214–13219. Dowson, T. 1992. Rock engravings of Southern Africa. Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press. Dowson, T. 1993. Changing fortunes of Southern African archaeology: Comment on A.D. Mazel’s ‘history’. Antiquity 67 (256): 64–644. Dowson, T. 1994. Reading art, writing history: Rock art and social change in southern Africa. World Archaeology 25 (3): 332–345. Dowson, T. 1995. Hunter-gatherers, traders and slaves: The ‘Mfecane’ impact on Bushmen, their ritual and their art, in C. Hamilton (ed.), The Mfecane aftermath: Reconstructive debates in southern African history: 51– 70. Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press. Dowson, T. 1998. Rain in Bushman belief, politics and history: The rock art of rain-making in the south-eastern mountains, southern Africa, in C. Chippindale and P.S.C. Taçon (eds), The archaeology of rock-art: 73–89. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Dowson, T. 2007. Debating shamanism in southern African rock art: Time to move on... The South African Archaeological Bulletin 62 (185): 49–61. Etherington, N. 2001. The great treks: The transformation of Southern Africa, 1815–1854. London: Longman. Fewlass, H., P. Mitchell, E. Casanova and L. Cramp. 2020. Chemical evidence of dairying by hunter-gatherers in highland Lesotho in the late first millennium AD. Nature Human Behaviour 4: 791–799. Forssman, T. 2014. The spaces between places: A landscape study of foragers on the Greater Mapungubwe Landscape, southern Africa. Azania: Archaeological Research in Africa 49 (2): 282–282. Forssman, T. 2017. Foragers and trade in the middle Limpopo Valley, c. 1200 BC to AD 1300.  Azania: Archaeological Research in Africa 52 (1): 49–70. Guenther, M. 1975. The trance dancer as an agent of social change among the farm Bushmen of the Ghanzi District.  Botswana Notes and Records 7: 161– 166. Guenther, M. 1999.  Tricksters and trancers: Bushman religion and society. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Guenther, M. 1986. The Nharo Bushmen of Botswana: Tradition and change, Quellen zur Khoisan-Forschung. Hamburg: H. Buske. Hammond-Tooke, D. 1998. Selective borrowing? The possibility of San shamanistic influence on Southern Bantu divination and healing practices. South African Archaeological Bulletin 53: 9–15. Hammond-Tooke, D. 1999. Divinatory animals: Further evidence of San/Nguni borrowing, South African Archaeological Bulletin 54: 128–132.

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Lewis-Williams, J.D. 1982. The economic and social context of southern San rock art. Current Anthropology 23 (4): 429–449. Lewis-Williams, J.D. 1983. The rock art of southern Africa. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lewis-Williams, J.D. 1984. The empiricist impasse in southern African rock art studies. South African Archaeological Bulletin 39 (139): 58–66. Lewis-Williams, J.D. 1993. Southern African archaeology in the 1990s.  South African Archaeological Bulletin  48 (157): 45–50. Lewis-Williams, J.D. 1995. Modelling the production and consumption of rock art.  The South African Archaeological Bulletin 50: 143–154. Lewis-Williams, J.D. 1998. Quanto?: The issue of ‘many meanings’ in southern African San rock art research. South African Archaeological Bulletin 53: 86–97. Lewis-Williams, J.D., T. Dowson, and J. Deacon. 1993. Rock art and changing perceptions of southern Africa’s past: Ezeljagdspoort reviewed. Antiquity 67 (255): 273–291. Loubser, J. and G. Laurens. 1994. Depictions of domestic ungulates and shields: hunter/gatherers and agropastoralists in the Caledon River valley area, in T. Dowson and J.D. Lewis-Williams (eds), Contested images: Diversity in southern African rock art research: 83–118. Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press. Mallen, L. 2008. Rock art and identity in the North Eastern Cape Province. Johannesburg: Unpublished Master’s dissertation, University of the Witwatersrand. Manhire, A., J. Parkington, A. Mazel, and T. Maggs. 1986. Cattle, sheep and horses: A review of domestic animals in the rock art of southern Africa.  South African Archaeological Society Goodwin Series 5: 22–30. Marshall, L. 1976. The !Kung of Nyae Nyae. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Marx, K. 1867. Das Kapital: Kritik der politischen Oekonomie. Volume 1: Der Produktionsprozess des Kapitals (1 ed.). Hamburg: Verlag von Otto Meissner. Mazel, A. 1989a. People making history: The last ten thousand years of hunter-gatherer communities in the Thukela Basin. Southern African Humanities 1 (07): 1–168. Mazel, A. 1989b. Changing social relations in the Thukela Basin, Natal 7000–2000 BP.  South African Archaeological Society Goodwin Series 6: 33–41. Mazel, A. 1992. Changing fortunes: 150 years of San hunter-gatherer history in the Natal Drakensberg, South Africa. Antiquity 66 (252): 758–767. Mazel, A. 1993. Rock art and Natal Drakensberg huntergatherer history: A reply to Dowson. Antiquity 67: 889–889. Mazel, A. 2009. Unsettled times: Shaded polychrome paintings and hunter-gatherer history in the southeastern mountains of southern Africa. Southern African Humanities 21 (1): 85–115.

Mazel, A. 2013. Paint and Earth: Constructing huntergatherer history in the uKhahlamba-Drakensberg, South Africa. Time and Mind 6 (1): 49–57. McGranaghan, M. 2016. The death of the Agama Lizard: The historical significances of a multi-authored rock-art site in the Northern Cape (South Africa). Cambridge Archaeological Journal 26 (1): 157–179. McGranaghan, M. and S. Challis. 2016. Reconfiguring hunting magic: Southern Bushman (San) perspectives on taming and their implications for understanding rock art. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 26 (4): 579–599. Mitchell, P. 2002. The archaeology of southern Africa. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mitchell, P. 2010. Making history at Sehonghong: Soai and the last Bushman occupants of his shelter. Southern African Humanities 22 (1): 149–170. Mitchell, P.  2015. Horse Nations: The worldwide impact of the horse on Indigenous societies post-1492. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Mitchell, P. 2016. Africa from MIS 6–2: Where do we go from here?, in S. Jones and B. Stewart (eds), Africa from MIS 6–2: Population dynamics and paleoenvironments: 407–416. Dordrecht: Springer. Morris, D. 2006. Interpreting Driekopseiland: the tangible and the intangible in a Northern Cape rock art site. South African Museums Association Bulletin 32 (1): 40–45. Mullen, A. 2018.  Re-investigating Significantly Differentiated Figures in the rock art of the southeastern Mountains. Johannesburg: Unpublished Master’s dissertation, University of the Witwatersrand. Mullen, A. 2020. Dateless substance: White pigments in the rock art of Southern Africa. Lesedi 23: 69–73. Napier, E. 1849. Excursions in southern Africa: Including a history of the Cape Colony, an account of the native tribes etc. London: William Shoburl. Ouzman, S. 2003. Indigenous images of a colonial exotic: Imaginings from Bushman southern Africa.  Before Farming 1: 1–23. Ouzman, S. 2005. The magical arts of a raider nation: Central South Africa’s Korana rock art. South African Archaeological Society Goodwin Series 9: 101–113. Pargeter, J., A. MacKay, P. Mitchell, J. Shea, and B. Stewart. 2016. Primordialism and the ‘Pleistocene San’ of southern Africa.  Antiquity  90 (352): 1072– 1079. Pearce, D. 2010. The Harris matrix technique in the construction of relative chronologies of rock paintings in South Africa. The South African Archaeological Bulletin 65 (192): 148–153. Peires, J. 1981. The house of Phalo: A history of the Xhosa people in the days of their independence. Berkeley: University of California Press. Pringle, T. 1835. Narrative of a residence in South Africa. London: Edward Moxon. 103

Sam Challis Russell, T. 2000. The application of the Harris matrix to San rock art at Main Caves North, KwaZulu-Natal. The South African Archaeological Bulletin 55: 60–70. Russell, T. 2012. No one said it would be easy: Ordering San paintings using the Harris Matrix: dangerously fallacious? A reply to David Pearce. The South African Archaeological Bulletin 67 (196): 267–272. Silberbauer, G. 1982. Political process in G|wi bands, in E. Leacock and R. Lee (eds), Politics and history in band societies: 23–35. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sinclair-Thomson, B. 2016. Martial art: Connections between farmers and foragers in the nineteenthcentury Eastern Cape.  Johannesburg: Unpublished Honours dissertation, University of the Witwatersrand. Sinclair-Thomson, B. 2019. Indigenising the gun–rock art depictions of firearms in the Eastern Cape, South Africa. Time and Mind: The Journal of Archaeology, Consciousness and Culture 12 (2): 121–135. Sinclair-Thomson, B. 2021. Trouble on the Tarka: The history of bandit groups on the Cape Colony’s eastern border and the archive of their rock art. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 25: 315– 332. Sinclair-Thomson, B. 2022. Escape and abscond: the use of ostrich potency by nineteenth-century rock artists, Eastern Cape, South Africa. Azania: Archaeological Research in Africa 57(3): 316-334. Sinclair-Thomson, B. and S. Challis. 2017. The ‘bullets to water’ belief complex: A pan-southern African cognate epistemology for protective medicines and the control of projectiles.  Journal of Conflict Archaeology 12 (3): 192–208. Sinclair-Thomson, B. and S. Challis. 2020. Runaway slaves, rock art and resistance in the Cape Colony, South Africa. Azania: Archaeological Research in Africa 55 (3): 475–491. Skinner, A. 2017. The changer of ways: Rock art and frontier ideologies on the Strandberg, Northern Cape, South Africa. Johannesburg: Unpublished Master’s dissertation, University of the Witwatersrand. Skinner, A. and S. Challis. In prep. Indigenous navigation in a colonised landscape: The New Animisms and the brokering of relations by insurgent resistance groups in nineteenth-century southern Africa. Smith, B. 2010. Envisioning San history: Problems in the reading of history in the rock art of the MalotiDrakensberg Mountains of South Africa.  African Studies 69 (2): 345–359. Smith, B. and S. Ouzman. 2004. Taking stock: Identifying Khoekhoen herder rock art in southern Africa. Current Anthropology 45 (4): 499–526. Stewart, B., Y. Zhao, P. Mitchell, G. Dewar, J. Gleason, and J. Blum. 2020. Ostrich eggshell bead strontium isotopes reveal persistent macroscale social

networking across late Quaternary southern Africa. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences  117 (12): 6453–6462. Swart, J. 2004. Rock art sequences in uKhahlambaDrakensberg Park, South Africa. Southern African Humanities 16 (1): 13–35. Thorp, C. 1997. Evidence for interaction from recent hunter-gatherer sites in the Caledon Valley. African Archaeological Review 14 (4): 231–256. Vinnicombe, P. 1960. General notes on Bushman riders and the Bushmen’s use of the assegai. South African Archaeological Bulletin 15 (58): 49–59. Vinnicombe, P. 1976. People of the eland: Rock paintings of the Drakensberg Bushmen as a reflection of their life and thought. Pietermaritzburg: University of KwaZuluNatal Press. Voss, B. 2008. The archaeology of ethnogenesis: race and sexuality in colonial San Francisco. Berkeley: University of California Press. Wadley, L. 1987. Later Stone Age hunters and gatherers of the southern Transvaal: Social and ecological interpretation. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports 25. Wadley, L. 1989. Legacies from the Later Stone Age. South African Archaeological Society Goodwin Series 6: 2–53. Wadley, L. 1996. Changes in the social relations of precolonial hunter–gatherers after agropastoralist contact: an example from the Magaliesberg, South Africa. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 15 (2): 205–217. Wadley, L. (ed.) 1997.  Our gendered past: Archaeological studies of gender in southern Africa. Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press. Wiessner, P. 1998. On network analysis: The potential for understanding (and misunderstanding) !Kung Hxaro. Current Anthropology 39 (4): 514–517. Willcox, A. 1963. The rock art of South Africa. Johannesburg: Thomas Nelson and Sons. Witelson, D. 2019. A  painted  ridge: Rock art and performance in the Maclear District, Eastern Cape Province, South Africa (Cambridge Monographs in African Archaeology 98). Oxford: Archaeopress. Wright, J. 1971. Bushman raiders of the Drakensberg, 1840– 1870: A study of their conflict with stock-keeping peoples in Natal. Pietermaritzburg: University of Natal Press. Wright, J. 1978. San history and non-San historians, in Collected Seminar Papers: Institute of Commonwealth Studies  22: 1–10. Johannesburg: Institute of Commonwealth Studies. Wright, J. 2007. Bushman raiders revisited, in P. Skotnes (ed.), Claim to the country: The archive of Lucy Lloyd and Wilhelm Bleek: 119–129. Johannesburg: Jacana Press. 104

Chapter 10

Rock art and archaeology? The problem of ‘integration’ in southern African Later Stone Age research David M. Witelson Abstract A distinction between excavated archaeology and rock art is currently maintained in southern African Later Stone Age (LSA) research. Despite the distinction, it is integration, and not any form of separation, that is widely held as an aim of terminal LSA research. ‘Integration’ is, however, more problematic than it first appears: does it refer to some concise, defined endpoint or an unrealistic ideal? As there is yet no ‘Integrated Archaeology,’ it is worth revisiting not only the ideas behind the concept, but how it is conceptualised. Integration raises questions about the degree of separation between painted images on the walls of rock shelters and the material recovered from excavations of their floors. On what grounds, if any, should such a separation be maintained?

The problem at this time was one that endures to the present day: exactly how to integrate rock art research into ‘mainstream’ archaeology (Lewis-Williams 1995: 73). Almost 25 years have passed since David LewisWilliams penned this sentence. He was referring to research conducted in the 1970s. After almost 50 years of multiple archaeologists, young and old, foreign and local, pondering “exactly how to integrate rock art research into ‘mainstream’ archaeology,” there has been no paradigmatic shift and no emergent ‘Integrated Archaeology’ has arisen that leaves its outdated predecessor far behind. This chapter scrutinises integration. It outlines why the notion of integration in South Africa remains relevant. Even though we know that human populations existed in southern Africa who produced material culture, including both stone tools and rock art images, and left behind other traces of their existence, chasms exist in the landscape of Later Stone Age (LSA)1 archaeology that separate ‘mainstream’ archaeologists2 from rock art researchers. There are seemingly few bridges over which they might cross.

The uneasy separation is as much sociological as it is historical and methodological. Importantly, I do not review sociological aspects here: suffice it to say that future LSA research would benefit from additional creative and cooperative researchers. Rather, I focus on the status quo of the relationship between ‘mainstream’ archaeology and rock art research3 so that current and future research might be more critically conducted. In this regard, it is notable, that “Once the notion of a ‘mainstream’ archaeology has been eradicated, the question of integration will lose much of its force” (Lewis-Williams 1993: 49). Though sub-disciplines in archaeology are ever increasing, we cannot escape the reality that rock art, as a form of material culture, is archaeology. The distinction I maintain in this chapter between ‘archaeology’ and ‘rock art’ is purely to facilitate the discussion. The peculiarity of the southern African relationship between archaeological and rock art research is obvious when compared to those from other countries (cf. Mazel 2009a: 81). A striking example comes from Scania, Sweden, where Bronze Age excavated metal artefacts and depictions of the same in engraved rock art allow chronological as well as stylistic sequences to be established (e.g. Skoglund 2016: 9)4. In that case, a ‘bridging device’ exists between the two contexts, and knowledge from both informs Bronze Age research as a whole. As far as I am aware, there is no need to speak of ‘integration’ in Scanian Bronze Age research. Thus, rather than considering ‘integration’ as a ubiquitous archaeological problem, we may stand to benefit from seeing the South African instance as a special case rather than a general one. The division between archaeological and rock art research in South Africa is illustrated in Figure 10.1. It shows the University of the Witwatersrand’s (Wits) Origins Centre Building, and that the only physical connection between the Archaeology Department and The kind and degree of relatedness between rock art and archaeological remains is affected by the meta-relationship between kinds of research and researchers. 4  Peter Skoglund drew this to my attention during the pre-conference excursion of the Rock Art Worldings Conference (Linnaeus University, Kalmar, Sweden) organised by Joakim Goldhahn and Antti Lahelma in 2017. 3 

1  ‘Integration’ is a late Holocene problem and I use LSA even though there is much discussion about the periodisation of southern Africa’s past (e.g. Mitchell 2009: 112). 2  Mainstream archaeologists are sometimes, and not altogether aptly, called ‘dirt’ archaeologists (e.g. Hodder 1992: 1).

Powerful Pictures (Archaeopress 2022): 105–115

David M. Witelson

Figure 10.1. The small bridge connecting the University of the Witwatersrand’s Archaeology Department to its Rock Art Research Institute. Base image © Google Earth 2018.

the Rock Art Research Institute is a thin bridge. It is an apt metaphor for southern African relationships between ‘mainstream’ archaeology and rock art. The almost non-existent connection between archaeological and rock art research (rather than the remains themselves) is so tangible that it can be reflected in architecture.

tools were to be found on the floors of rock shelters and their rock art on the walls. Rather than an abstract construction, this was an observation of the reality of the relationship between historically recorded peoples and two kinds of material culture: rock art and stone tools.

The divide exists despite researchers on each side 1., conducting research in overlapping temporal periods, 2., having mutual interests in reconstructing the past, and 3., belonging to the same institutions. Though a change in building design is unlikely to change the ways researchers think, building metaphorical bridges may be productive. Yet, before construction can begin, it is necessary to first consider the chasms to be traversed. The remainder of this chapter is divided into two sections. The first gives a brief history of the relationship between ‘mainstream’ archaeological and rock art research in southern Africa. The second section discusses integration as it is conceptualised today and points out some challenges with its conceptualisation.

Rock paintings in South Africa were attributed to San communities as early as 1777 by Robert Jacob Gordon (Cullinan 1992: 26), though John Barrow’s 1801 mention is more widely cited (e.g. Goodwin 1935: 294) because Gordon’s travel diaries only recently resurfaced. Stone tools were mentioned as early as 1789 by William Paterson (1789: 130), but earnest archaeological interest in what is today South Africa took hold only well into the nineteenth century (e.g. Dubow 2004; Goodwin 1935). It grew from the birth of archaeology as a discipline in Europe. At that time, Sir John Lubbock, following a global preoccupation with geology, expressed that, “Archaeology forms, in fact, the link between geology and history” (Lubbock 1913: 2, see also Dale 1870: 236; Dubow 2004: 123).

A brief history Associations of specific peoples, stone tools, and rock art preceded institutionalised archaeology in South Africa. There was an early acknowledgement that where (principally) San5 communities lived, their stone

The discovery of stone tools in South Africa begged the question of their relatedness to those in Europe: some felt that they were unlikely to be prehistoric and of any challenge to ideas about European ‘prehistoric man’ (e.g. Dale 1870: 237). Simultaneously, some entertained

Many writers of the 18th and 19th century used the term ‘Bushmen.’ I use ‘San’ but retain the original word used by authors in quotations.

I reject all pejorative connotations in my usage.

5 

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the idea that stone artefacts (at least surface finds) were familiar to or in use among indigenous Khoesan (i.e. Khoe and San) communities (e.g. Dale 1870: 239; Gooch 1882: 138). Nevertheless, Khoesan peoples were seen as static relics of previous evolutionary stages from a racist colonial perspective typical of that time (e.g. Dubow 2004; Feilden 1884: 170; Forssman 2019; Gooch 1882: 152, 153).

employed in studying the [stone tool] industries [i.e. stratigraphy, typology, preservation and patina, and associated finds] can be used in the study of the art, and, as before, stratigraphy and typology are the most important.” Burkitt’s position, a typical example of the thinking at that time (see Whitley & Clottes 2005 for two other global examples), has been critically reviewed (among others) by Lewis-Williams (1995: 71):

Some workers ventured further: not only were indigenous communities the makers of the stone tools and rock paintings, but the San people and their material culture were granted considerable antiquity. Whereas some had emphasized that San material culture was not as old as that from deposits in Europe, others argued that the San people, with their rock paintings and stone tools, had been around for a very long time (e.g. Dunn 1880: 22; Kannemeyer 1890: 180; Stow 1905: 25).

By imposing on research a geological paradigm rooted in sequences, researchers were able to write about the art without reference to any meaning or subtlety, indeed to anything that would point to the humanity of the Bushmen. … For Burkitt and other writers of this period, the Western concern with technology was all important. This emphasis maximised the technological and, by extension, “mental” distance between Africa’s past and its colonial present.

But this view was contested. In an attempt to find comparative evidence using European terminology and divisions, scholars like James Paul Johnson (1910) and Louis Péringuey (1911) periodised different kinds of stone tools and prehistoric population diffusions into southern Africa (Goodwin 1935). These debates distinguished two schools of thought: “The one is best represented by Dunn and Stow, who regarded all implements as ‘Bushman’ with a problematical earlier period. The other, headed by Johnson and Péringuey, was diffusionistic, and sought direct parallels between European and South African industries and periods, with Europe as the presumed source of all things” (Goodwin 1935: 334)6.

Thus, in addition to the various methods that have been used to study rock art and excavated archaeological materials, conceptions of Khoesan communities, particularly colonial notions of race and ‘the primitive’, influenced, and in some respects continue to influence, archaeological interpretations (e.g. Dubow 2004; Forssman 2019; Lewis-Williams 1995; Woodhouse 1971: 99). Significantly, in South Africa, “Rock art research has been implicated in a classic battle to control and define a key component of southern Africa’s past: conceptions of the people who are perceived as the subcontinent’s original inhabitants—the Bushmen” (Lewis-Williams 1995: 65–66, emphasis added).

Professional archaeology in South Africa began with the academic appointment of South Africa’s first trained archaeologist, John Goodwin, in 1923 (Gabel 1985). From there, Lubbock’s geological view of archaeology was further entrenched. Though some of the earliest definitions of LSA stone tool industries in South Africa, particularly the Wilton and Smithfield, recognised that certain kinds of stone tools occurred at painted or engraved rock art sites (e.g. Burkitt 1928: 111; Goodwin & van Riet Lowe 1929: 7; van Riet Lowe 1926: 891, see also Lombard et al. 2012), the degree of association emphasized between San peoples and stone tools was more tenuous than had been asserted in previous decades (e.g. Dunn 1880; Kannemeyer 1890; Stow 1905).

By the 1970s, the association between San populations and relatively recent archaeology including rock art was widely accepted (e.g. Derricourt 1977: 59; Vinnicombe 1976: 107; Woodhouse 1971: 100). Simultaneously, a pragmatic idea emerged about the role of rock art in LSA research: the potential of the art to evidence LSA life in a literal and material sense (e.g. Derricourt 1977: 59; Woodhouse 1971: 92). The potential of such an approach to inform constructions of the past has not been fully realized (but see Hobart 2003; Ouzman 1997; Parkington et al. 1996; Wates 2022). At around this time, Pat Carter (1978) and Patricia Vinnicombe (1976) initiated (but never realised) an attempt to tie rock art to excavated contexts in Lesotho (e.g. Mitchell 2009; Vinnicombe 2009). What Vinnicombe and Carter envisioned as an integrated study was notably different from a mere fusion of their individual research efforts (Vinnicombe 2009: 167).

Goodwin’s mentor, the Cambridge archaeologist Miles Burkitt (1928: 111, emphasis added), opined in a global fashion of privileging the methods of excavation: “All the four methods of investigation that have been Interestingly, for Johnson (1910), the association between San and stone tools was uneasy. He had two periods that featured very similar stone implements and rock art. He considered the ‘aboriginal’ (i.e. San) phase to result from a prehistoric (Solutric) population migration.

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By this point in the global history of archaeological thought, Lubbock’s definition was no longer ubiquitous, and ties to anthropological thought had 107

David M. Witelson been emphasised, especially in North America (e.g. Phillips 1955: 246–247). Then, toward the end of the 1970s, an important development occurred. It came out of an initial riding of the wave of the New Archaeology and then a prompt reaction against it out of sheer dissatisfaction. Notably, it came from two rock art researchers: Vinnicombe (1972a, 1972b, 1976) and Lewis-Williams (1972, 1974a, 1974b, 1981), who each employed social theory and ethnography to interpret San rock art7.

art sites, they went further by acknowledging the difficulties in interpreting that material culture: “The challenge for us outsiders is to know what it was like to have been a San [sic]” (Parkington et al. 1996: 214). The influence of rock art research on LSA archaeological research was greater still: “the separation in the minds of many archaeologists of the significance between what Stone Age people made and ate, on the one hand, and what they believed in, on the other, is gradually being bridged, and this owes a great deal to the research done by these two authors [Vinnicombe and LewisWilliams]” (Deacon & Deacon 1999: 166). Unfortunately, the gradual bridging between ‘mainstream’ archaeology and rock art research has come to an effective standstill. At best, some bridge-builders have continued steadily but with too few hands to finish the job. At worst, they have abandoned the effort entirely. But the desire for integration is alive and well.

Soon after the publication of their now seminal texts, rock art research in South Africa developed into an influential discipline in its own right. Of it, LewisWilliams (1993: 49) has remarked that, “southern African rock art research has, arguably, produced more understanding of terminal Later Stone Age life than lithic sequences and environmentalist explanations; its theory and methodology have influenced other branches of the discipline; and it has done much to challenge racist stereotypes of indigenous people.” That influence should not be understated (Ouzman & Wadley 1997, 286):

Integration Emerging from the preceding brief history of ideas behind the association of rock art and archaeological research in southern Africa are at least three interrelated concerns: associations of material culture, the identity of the people who produced that material culture, and matters of chronology affecting both associations and identity. These concerns remain relevant today.

For much of its history, southern African Later Stone Age research has been a descriptive discourse concerned with artefact sequences and typologies. Excavated material culture has provided information that relates principally to economic, environmental and technological aspects of forager life; only recently have social implications been considered (Mazel 1989; Wadley 1987, see also Barham 1992). Rock art research has a much longer history of using social theory to interpret imagery and has focused on issues such as religion (Lewis-Williams 1981; Vinnicombe 1976), political strategies (Campbell 1986; Dowson 1994), forager-agriculturalist contiguity (Hall 1994; Jolly 1996; Ouzman 1995; Prins & Hall 1994) and the construction of regional histories (Loubser & Laurens 1994; Yates & Smith 1994).

‘Integration’ is a term that has been used by rock art researchers and archaeologists alike (e.g. LewisWilliams 1993, 1995; Mazel 1993, 1994, 2009a, 2009b, 2013; Mitchell 2002, 2005, 2009). There are at least four different, though not mutually exclusive, uses of ‘integration’, being the integration of: 1. 2. 3.

It is, however, worth noting that the state of LSA research today is quite different from that in the 1990s (e.g. Arthur 2018; Forssman 2019; Lewis-Williams 1993; Mitchell 2005; Stewart et al. 2020). Nevertheless, the cumulative result at the time was that the broader archaeological community in South Africa, particularly so-called ‘mainstream’ archaeologists, were forced to critically consider the use of social theory, ethnography, and analogy. No longer was the mere association between people, stone tools, and rock art satisfactory. Though some researchers indeed emphasised a direct association between excavated material culture and painted rock

4.

rock art research into ‘mainstream’ archaeology (Lewis-Williams 1995: 73) archaeological or rock art research data (e.g. Mazel 1993: 890) insights from those research fields (e.g. Mitchell 2009) rock art into San history8 (e.g. Dowson 1994: 335, see also Mazel 1992: 1993)

These different uses suggest that there is, in fact, no consensus about the notion of integration itself or how to achieve it (Witelson 2022). The need to speak of integration comes about largely because of a lack of contextualising information 8  With the notable exception of Aron Mazel’s work, the construction of San history is not usually carried out with reference to archaeological excavations. It’s aim is often “the construction of local San histories and contextually specific understandings of how San groups produced and consumed rock art” (Smith 2010: 352, but see Challis, this volume).

7  The differences between their uses of social theory and ethnography deserves its own discussion.

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allowing rock art imagery to be related to other archaeology. Two chief factors are responsible. First, most of the rock art is largely undated and currently un-datable, though it is not devoid of chronological information (e.g. Bonneau et al. 2017; Mazel 2009). Seeking a robust chronology for southern African rock art has, therefore, been singled out as necessary for integration (e.g. Mazel 1993, 1994, 2009a, 2009b, 2013; Mitchell 2002, 2005, 2009; Vinnicombe 1976, 108; Woodhouse 1971: 95–96, 112).

emphasising that excavated material culture, and rock art—itself archaeological material culture—seldom (though not exclusively) allow for equivalent inferences (e.g. Burkitt 1928: 159; Deacon & Deacon 1999, 166; Kinahan 2018: 2; Ouzman & Wadley 1997: 401). In other words, certain contexts allow for inferences that others do not. This allows for the inferences drawn from each context to be used in relation to one another without necessarily resulting in an emergent conclusion or supporting the same conclusion. Instead, independent inferences result in separate but supplementary conclusions. As LSA archaeology stands, inferential limitations—enhanced by differences in method and theory—have resulted in researchers discussing supplementary rather than emergent conclusions. Though this is, in itself, not inherently problematic, the fundamental limitations of inferences for different contexts must be considered regardless of how detrimental they might be to particular notions of integration.

The second factor is an absence of material correlates that feature in both contexts: few of the durable excavated artefacts, be they organic or inorganic, feature in the rock art (e.g. Ouzman & Wadley 1997: 397, but see Hobart 2003; Kinahan 2018; Ouzman 1997). In contrast to the metal artefacts depicted in Scanian Bronze Age engravings, southern African contexts have few material or stylistic means to tie rock art images to excavated artefacts—let alone establish rock art chronologies. One promising avenue, however, is to redirect attention away from artefacts and towards the many animals that feature in both contexts (Wates 2022). Nevertheless, the conventional view is that there are few ways to relate the two contexts, even though excavated materials and rock art often occur at the same sites and are both (in general terms) associated with the indigenous hunter-gatherers of southern Africa, at least that which pre-dates the arrival of herders and agro-pastoralists from around 2000 years ago. Real though chronological and material challenges are, they are not the only obstacles facing the desire for integration.

Scale Despite the aforementioned population-scale association between rock art and other archaeology in the terminal LSA, there is a widespread, largely unpublished expectation for direct correlations between specific artefacts in the ground and specific images on the wall (for similar ideas see, Ouzman & Wadley 1997: 396; Seddon & Vinnicombe 1967: 112). Such expectations may hinder integration. Smallscale correlations between artefacts effectively seek individuals (or individual events) in the past. It is a game, not of ethnographic snap (Inskeep 1971: 104), but of ‘match the artefact and rock painting to the individual behind them’ (cf. Flannery 1967: 120). Expecting such levels of chance and preservation is unrealistic. Even if the mummified remains of a late Holocene image-maker were found with a paintbrush in hand, pointed toward a half-finished image, holding a palette and ochres, next to stone and bone tools, seated beside a hearth and foodstuffs, what inferences could we draw that are not currently possible from a sum of inferences from other contexts? Crucially, the desire for small-scale correlations occurs in the absence of appropriate research questions and guiding theoretical frameworks.

This becomes evident when we enquire about the aims and expectations of integration: what exactly do we hope to be able to say about the past when we eventually achieve integration? In other words, should a study of both contexts: • have each context inform different aspects of the same study and so result in separate but supplementary conclusions? • use each context as an independent line of evidence to support the same conclusion? • result in an emergent conclusion that is only possible from a consideration of both contexts together?

The problem of scale is particularly apparent in attempts to relate the ochre excavated in rock shelters from directly below painted images to the images themselves (e.g. Woodhouse 1971: 70–71). Though some rock art paints contain mineral pigments, attempts at relating them to excavated ochre face at least three problems: 1., ochre is not used exclusively as a pigment for rock art paints (Ouzman & Wadley 1997: 391; Rifkin 2015a, 2015b; Rudner 1982), 2., several ethnohistorical

With these questions in mind, it is worth addressing some factors implicated in the desire to integrate. Inference The limitations for specific kinds of inferences about past lifeways from archaeological material culture are well-known (e.g. Hawkes 1954), but it is worth re109

David M. Witelson sources suggest that ochre for rock paintings was ground up (e.g. Dornan 1925: 188; Dunn 1931: 188; How 1970: 35), probably off-site, and potentially stored in containers (e.g. Ellenberger 1953: 148; Mitchell 2006/2007: 5; Rudner 1982: 238–241; Stow 1905: 200, 230), and 3., ethnohistorical sources suggest ochre was often heated to the extent that its colour changed (e.g. Dunn 1931: 188; Rudner 1982; Stanford 1910: 439) and then mixed with other ingredients in the making of paint (e.g. Bonneau et al. 2012: 291), meaning that comparisons of ochre and rock art based on colour are inadequate (Hahndiek 2014). Attempts to relate excavated ochre to rock paintings must scrutinise these potential challenges, establishing the relevance of each empirically with rigid research questions and analytical methods. Otherwise, such investigations will not result in new knowledge about the relationship between these materials.

One of the values of much southern African rock art research is that it draws on ethnography and social theory to speak, in Mitchell’s words, to social relations and connections. This is a result of some researchers’ seeking to establish empirical connections between San rock art and San ethnography, and situating them in a particular social theoretical framework. Importantly, the emphasis in post-1970 South African rock art research has often (but not exclusively) been on huntergatherer social relations in particular. A significant caveat—important because it is a potential pitfall— is that social relations are historically contingent. Consequently, the degree to which San ethnography is applicable to rock art produced within the last 2000 years, during which hunter-gatherer, herder and agropastoral communities interacted, depends largely on when and in what circumstances that art was produced (e.g. Blundell 2004; Challis 2014, 2016, 2018, this volume; Dowson 1994; Hollmann 2017; Jolly 1996; Mazel 1993, 1994, 2009a, 2009b, 2013; Morris 2002, 2010). At the same time, one methodological benefit of San rock art research in general is that it seeks to identify connections. In some cases, such as the well-known and long-lived numerical emphasis on eland antelope images and the parallel significance of eland in San ethnography, relative chronological frames appear to be adequate for considering the connection in terms of San shamanism (Lewis-Williams 1981). When the focus of the investigation is change and interaction in the broad contact period, however, absolute chronometric frames enable us to assess the validity of any (re-) constructed social process and associated relations (e.g. Bonneau et al. 2011: 427, see also Blundell 2004; Dowson 1994; Mullen 2018; Smith 2010).

Time I have already noted the suggestion that rock art chronologies are key to integration. Aron Mazel (2009a: 91, note 1), for instance, sees “rock art as being an integral part of the archaeological record” with a robust chronological framework necessary to relate the two. Mazel’s notion of integration is unambiguous both in aim and definition: the two data sets mutually inform constructions of series of events (e.g. regionwide occupations, seasonal migrations, contacts between different groups, and change) and are brought together through a historical construction guided by social theory (Mazel 1989: 28). In practical terms, this is unambiguous precisely because it is events that are related in time. Importantly, Mazel (2009a: 94) does not dismiss inferences or conclusions from rock art; though these enhance the historical construction, they do not necessarily play a central role.

In any event, no reasonable rock art researcher would disagree that robust chronologies for southern African rock art would be informative. Additional radiocarbon dates for rock paintings are highly anticipated precisely because chronology is one of the platforms from which dated rock art and archaeological materials can be considered simultaneously (e.g. Mitchell 2009: 112). Robust chronologies alone, however, cannot deliver an ‘Integrated Archaeology’ because “the accumulation of more and more data does not mean a proportionate increase in understanding” (Lewis-Williams & Loubser 1986, 261). Any constructions, reconstructions, or interpretations of events or social relations are not selfevident but are guided and informed by theory (e.g. Mazel 1989: 28).

From a similar perspective, Peter Mitchell (2002: 17) has argued that more than dating “is required for rock art … to be integrated into the rest of the archaeological record,” and that, “There is no doubt that a richer view of the hunter-gatherer past will emerge if and when rock art’s wealth of reference to social relations can be integrated with ‘dirt’ archaeology, but this cannot happen unless rock art is itself contextualized chronologically. While so much of the art remains in a temporal vacuum, such connections can only produce ahistorical understandings of the entire archaeological record” (Mitchell 2005: 68, emphasis added; see also 2009: 112). The risk of ‘producing ahistorical understandings of the entire archaeological record’ is low given that bona fide ties between rock art and excavated archaeology do not yet abound in LSA research.

Theory It is something of a paradox that several studies have achieved some degree of integration by considering southern African rock art and other archaeology

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together (e.g. Kinahan 2018; Loubser and Laurens 1994; Ouzman & Wadley 1997). That this particular point is not widely acknowledged comes down to the aforementioned contested nature of the notion of integration itself. Different as they are from each other, joint considerations of rock art and other archaeology weave evidential strands together and make use of ethnography and analogy within the context of a theoretical framework. Johannes Loubser and Gordon Laurens (1994), for example, see post-contact changes in autochthonous hunter-gatherer rock art in the eastern Free State in terms of the changes in power structures following contact with allochthonous SothoTswana agriculturalists, drawing on the archaeology of stone-walled settlements, ethnohistorical records and the paintings themselves. Similarly, Sven Ouzman and Lyn Wadley make explicit use of the ‘cables and tacking’ argument method to bring together “ethnography, rock art and excavated material culture” at Rose Cottage Cave in the context of an aggregation and dispersal model (Ouzman and Wadley 1997: 387), and John Kinahan (2018) uses theoretical tools to bring together the rock art and excavated finds at Falls Rock Shelter in the Dâures Massif in the context of shamanic ritual preparation and performance in the Namib Desert (Kinahan 2017a, 2017b).

together, each enhancing the other. This fundamentally important aspect of the nature of South African rock art research is often missed (e.g. Forssman 2019). While social theory is an acknowledged staple of South African rock art research, it is not a staple (at least not to the same degree) of other aspects of LSA research. Unfortunately, the popularity of social theory in LSA research following its introduction by South African rock art researchers was relatively short-lived (e.g. Ouzman & Wadley 1997: 286), and has further decreased with the decline in the number of active LSA researchers (Arthur 2018). Moving forward Current calls hold that it is necessary to integrate rock art research into archaeological research, not the other way around. This singular direction cannot be maintained (Lewis-Williams 1993: 49). If, as I have argued, several factors do affect how we think about integration, and if its one-way direction is indeed questionable, will further scrutiny and debate position us better to resolve the problem of integration? Giving due consideration to each of the concerns raised here in the context of specific research questions should be productive. There is certainly no doubt that it would be productive to bring rock art and archaeology into dialogue (e.g. Bourdier 2013) or conversation (Mitchell pers. comm. 2018) with each other. But how this is done will determine for how much longer we shall need to speak of ‘integration’. Meanwhile, the fact that the rock art and the material recovered from excavations were produced, in general terms, by the same populations shall haunt us like a spectre.

The current lack of shared theoretical frameworks between archaeology and rock art is the single greatest division facing anyone wishing to integrate southern African rock art and other archaeology. The crucial role of theory has not received enough recognition (LewisWilliams 1993; Mitchell 2005). Significantly, theory “allows the possibility of critique” and, importantly, is a means to stimulate change in the discipline (Hodder 1992: 1). Importantly, no one theoretical framework is likely to suit every case, question, or context. Mazel’s (1982) theoretically-informed notion of integration, for example, is noticeably larger in scope and different in aim from the other examples. In any case, social theory offers an opportunity to consider excavated material culture and rock art from the same perspective. Doing so would obviate the problem of integration.

More positively, it must be remembered that individual students and researchers have a role to play in moving us forward. Mitchell (2005: 67) has stated that “southern Africa … offers one of the best opportunities anywhere in the world for pursuing joined-up investigations of past hunter-gatherer communities exploiting both parietal and excavated records. The kinds of connections that may be identifiable here, and the kind of models that can therefore be realistically advanced, entertained and substantiated (e.g. Blundell 2004; Ouzman & Wadley 1997), are the stuff of dreams in Palaeolithic Europe.” Fortunately, there are already teams engaged in such investigations (e.g. Bourdier et al. 2018; Pinto et al. 2018). But integration is far more likely to result if there is intellectual cooperation between archaeologists and rock art researchers—if, indeed, the division between ‘mainstream’ and other archaeologies is to be maintained. Returning to the divisive bridge encountered at the beginning of this chapter, whatever those on either side of the bridge might think about those on the other, the fact that each

The long history of the use of social theory in southern African rock art research (with a shorter history of use in LSA archaeology generally) means that a rich body of theoretical ideas already exists to further explore relationships between archaeological and rock art research. The great potential of social theoretical frameworks to coordinate and articulate the details of ethnographies (used on both sides of the bridge) has been demonstrated in southern African rock art research. In practical terms, the rock art researcher moves between social theory, ethnography, and the objects of study (rock art images), and all three work

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David M. Witelson Mitchell, P.J. 2005. Why hunter-gatherer archaeology matters: a personal perspective on renaissance and renewal in southern African Later Stone Age research. The South African Archaeological Bulletin 60 (182): 64–71. Mitchell, P.J. 2006/2007. Remembering the Mountain Bushmen: Observations of nineteenth-century hunter-gatherers in Lesotho as recorded by Victor Ellenberger. Southern African Field Archaeology 15/16: 3–10. Mitchell, P.J. 2009. Gathering together a history of the People of the Eland: towards an archaeology of Maloti-Drakensberg hunter-gatherers, in P.J. Mitchell and B. Smith (eds), The Eland’s people: New perspectives in the rock art of the MalotiDrakensberg Bushmen. Essays in memory of Patricia Vinnicombe: 99–138. Johannesburg: Wits University Press. Morris, D. 2002. Driekopseiland and ‘the rain’s magic power’: history and landscape in a new interpretation of a Northern Cape rock engraving site. Cape Town: Unpublished MA dissertation, University of the Western Cape. Morris, D. 2010. Snake and veil: the rock engravings of Driekopseiland, Northern Cape, South Africa, in G. Blundell, G., C. Chippindale & B.W. Smith (eds) Seeing and knowing: Understanding rock art with and without ethnography: 37–53. Johannesburg: Wits University Press. Mullen, A. 2018. Re-investigating significantly differentiated figures in the rock art of the southeastern mountains. Johannesburg: Unpublished MSc dissertation, University of the Witwatersrand. Ouzman, S. 1995. Spiritual and political uses of a rock engraving site and its imagery by San and Tswanaspeakers. The South African Archaeological Bulletin 50 (161): 55–67. Ouzman, S. 1997. Between margin and center: The archaeology of southern African bored stones, in L. Wadley (ed.), Our gendered past: Archaeological studies of gender in Southern Africa: 71–106. Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press. Ouzman, S. and L. Wadley. 1997. A history in paint and stone from Rose Cottage Cave, South Africa. Antiquity 71 (272): 386–404. Parkington, J., T. Manhire and R. Yates. 1996. Reading San images, in J. Deacon and T. Dowson (eds), Voices from the past: |Xam Bushmen and the Bleek and Lloyd Collection: 212–233. Johannesburg: Wits University Press. Paterson, W. 1789. A narrative of four journeys into the country of the Hottentots, and Caffraria, in the years 1777, 1778, 1779. London: Johnson. Péringuey, L. 1911. The stone ages of South Africa as represented in the collection of the South African Museum. Annals of the South African Museum 8 (1): 1–177.

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Rock art and archaeology? The problem of ‘integration’ in southern African Later Stone Age research

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Chapter 11

A history of research into regional difference in southern African rock paintings Ghilraen Laue Abstract The heuristic value of the ‘cognitive’ approach to San rock art over the last 50 years has meant that previously important issues, such as regionality, have enjoyed less attention. The study of regional difference in rock art was a dominant feature prior to the advent of the cognitive approach. Although this line of research was largely abandoned many of the conclusions reached are still present in the form of tacit assumptions in rock art research today. With the recent renewed interest in regional difference in southern African rock art it is time to interrogate this history. In this paper, I focus on the history of research into regional difference. I begin with the work of Burkitt in 1928 and end with some ideas as to the way forward to understanding regionality.

Introduction The 1970s was a watershed decade in rock art research in southern Africa. Before this, work by professional archaeologists was minimal, and the field was left to the many amateur researchers working in their spare time. Investigations into southern African rock art, prior to the 1970s, tended to focus on temporal sequences and regional similarities and differences (e.g. Burkitt 1928; Rudner and Rudner 1970; van Riet Lowe 1952). As early as 1928 Burkitt recognised that rock art had the potential to move research out of the ‘kitchen or pantry, the toolhouse or the gunroom’ towards an understanding of past lifeways beyond those essential to the ‘actual business of living’ (Burkitt 1928: 110). But, despite this understanding, beyond vague suppositions that the art may have been made for magic or ceremonial purposes, he felt that ‘as regards the motives which prompted the execution of the paintings…little can be said’ and the art was ‘merely the outward expression of an artistic people filling in the chance half-hours of a somewhat monotonous existence’ (Burkitt 1928: 156). The assumption that the art was painted purely for pleasure, or ‘art for art’s sake’, continued well into the 1970s (e.g. Rudner and Rudner 1970: 210). In an effort to make rock art research more scientific, there was a brief spurt of quantification in southern African in the late 1960s and early 1970s (e.g LewisWilliams 1972, 1974; Maggs 1967; Vinnicombe 1967).

Powerful Pictures (Archaeopress 2022): 116–125

Methodological flaws soon led to the abandonment of this method and the subsequent employment of an interpretative approach, using San ethnography to understand the symbolic dimensions of the art and its production (e.g. Lewis-Williams 1981; Vinnicombe 1976). The extraordinary productivity of this ‘cognitive’ approach, which still dominates San rock art research today, meant that issues such as regionality fell by the wayside. However, even with the abandonment of these lines of research, many of the conclusions reached can still be seen in the form of tacit assumptions in rock art research today. There has been a recent renewed interest in regional difference in southern African rock art (Hampson et al. 2002; Hampson 2015), but instead of solving the problem of regionality, it has shifted the focus from ‘style’ to ‘motif ’, and many of the original problems remain. Early views on regional difference in southern African rock art The 1920s and 1930s were a time of increasing professionalization in southern African archaeology with Goodwin and Van Riet Low’s seminal publication in 1929 The Stone Age Cultures of South Africa. Although committed to a terminology for southern Africa that was different to that of Europe, Goodwin and Van Riet Lowe (1929: 150) argued that many of the industries seen in southern Africa came to the subcontinent through migrations from the north. It was at this time of reclassification and new understanding of the southern African Stone Age that Burkitt, a Cambridge prehistorian, visited South Africa. Burkitt not only studied the stone artefacts, but also examined the hunter-gatherer rock art. Burkitt (1928) was one of the first to divide the rock art of southern Africa into regions, divisions later refined by other researchers such as Bleek (1935), van Riet Lowe (1949, 1952), Rudner and Rudner (1970), and Willcox (1984). Each researcher defined a slightly different number of regions, but there was broad agreement that stylistic difference could be seen and defined (e.g. Burkitt 1928; Rudner and Rudner 1970; van Riet Lowe 1952). The direction of rock art research at the time was clear. Since there was a belief that meaning could not be gleaned from the art,

A history of research into regional difference in southern African rock paintings

Figure 11.1. Map showing painted and engraved sites recoded by the Archaeological survey (after Van Riet Lowe 1952, place names have been updated to reflect current names).

had a large influence on those that followed (Davis 1990: 280). Since he believed the meaning of the art could not be understood, archaeological methods were to be used to understand and explain differences through time and space. The differences in painting ‘styles’ between areas were related to the understanding of Later Stone Age industries at the time. The ‘well and finely drawn’ art with a style that was ‘vigorous and attractive’ found in the Maloti-Drakensberg was related to the Smithfield Stone Tool Industry, while the ‘poorly drawn’ art from other areas was seen to be that of the makers of the Wilton Stone Tool Industry (Burkitt 1928). Burkitt followed the general thought at the time that Later Stone Age archaeological finds and rock art were derived from the north rather than being local innovations. He felt that Spanish influences could be seen.

investigations focused on the change in space and time of style, as well as subject and aesthetics. Burkitt, divided the subcontinent into three rock art regions: Zimbabwe1, a Central Group which includes Lesotho and the eastern and western slopes of the Drakensberg in South Africa, and a Southern Group located in the coastal belt below the Central Group in South Africa. His observations were based on a brief tour, in 1927, of archaeological sites and collections facilitated by, and drawing insights from, Goodwin (Schrire 1995: 35), his student and a lecturer at the University of Cape Town. Burkitt, as well as others interested in regional difference, included the rock engravings in their analysis, but as engravings are beyond the scope of this paper I do not discuss them here. Despite Burkitt’s superficial examination of rock art sites, his focus on ‘typology’ (stylistic classification of imagery) and ‘stratigraphy’ (superposition sequences)

Dorothea Bleek was the daughter of Wilhelm Bleek, the German linguist who, with the help of his sisterin-law Lucy Lloyd recorded over 12 000 pages of /Xam San ethnography in the 1870s (Bank 2006; Bleek and Lloyd 1911). Bleek travelled around southern Africa learning from different Bushman groups, recording

1  Modern place names are used in the text, for example in place of Southern Rhodesia, I use Zimbabwe.

117

Attractive art of (dark claret)

•

red)

Less naturalistic (yellow and

More developed (brownish red)

•

•

Monochromes (red and yellow).

•

different ages based on colour.

• Divided in to four art series of

Area

Area IV

Description

art.

Babylonian art.

Egyptian and

reminiscent of

angular bodies

Second type have

and II.

similar to Areas I

First type are

• Plants and trees in the

•

•

figures:

• Two types of human

• Perfectly drawn animals.

• Painted on granite.

Description

D. Bleek (1932) Area

North-Eastern Group

M. C. Burkitt (1928)

Tanzania.

of the art of Zimbabwe and

• The group is reminiscent

polychromes are present.

although unshaded bi- and

• Mostly monochrome

• Naturalistic art

Description

C. van Riet Lowe (1952) Area

Bantu-speakers.

white images probably made by

• Later paintings include crude

• Oldest paintings are red.

in a white pigment.

• Later crude paintings are made

found in the Drakensberg.

• Earlier paintings similar to those

trees and landscapes are in phase 4.

• The bichromes and paintings of

which are fine line.

• Six phases, the first four of

tool culture.

• Associated with the Wilton stone

• Formal School.

Description

J. and I. Rudner (1970) Area

Zimbabwe and Limpopo Province

Area

Mashonaland and Matabeleland Limpopo Province Tsodilo Hills

118

Tsodilo Hills

Zimbabwe

speakers

• Geometrics, probably made by Bantu-

• Human figures and scenes are rare.

• Most animals are shown in lateral profile.

• The art was made by Wilton Man.

• Handprints are found at a few sites.

occur.

• Paintings of plants as well as formlings

and often painted in groups or scenes.

• Humans are less accurately portrayed

• Animal proportions are accurate.

occur.

• As one moves south fewer polychromes

bichromes and polychromes are seen.

• Monochromes predominate but

recognised.

Description

• No stylistic changes over time are

A. Willcox (1984)

Table 11.1. Summary of regional differences as outlined by Burkitt (1928), Bleek (1932), van Riet Lowe (1952), Rudner and Rudner (1970) and Willcox (1984). I have tried to align similar regions as much as possible.

Ghilraen Laue

Central Group

Southern Group

• Many handprints occur.

smudgy background.

• Mostly painted in bright red on a

• Inferior to the art of other areas

industry.

• Associated with the Wilton stone tool

Culture of the LSA

• The art is related to the Smithfield

scenes.

• Human figures are often painted in

shaded.

• Polychrome animals some of which are

Description

M. C. Burkitt (1928)

Area

Area II

Area I

Area III

are

Culture.

• Related to the Wilton

common.

• Hook-heads

• Painted stones are found.

unique to the area.

• Bird-like

and

creatures

hand

finger markings.

• Frequent

• Lack of superpositioning.

Culture.

• Related to the Smithfield

• No handprints.

shapes.

• Many different head-

• Large variety of colour.

art.

• Superimpositions in the

• Animal-headed figures.

• Illustrations of myths.

• Frequent scenes.

Description

D. Bleek (1932) Area

South-Eastern Group Southern Group Western Group Central Group

large

elaborate

post-Bantu

includes signs and symbols.

• Mainly

executed.

and

small, monochrome and poorly

• Much of the art in this area is

few

polychromes seen.

• A

are found.

• Handprints and finger dots

and superpositioning is rare.

• Action is not well depicted

• Mostly red monochromes.

horses and Europeans.

• Later art shows sheep, cattle,

such as fishing and dancing.

foreshortening as well as scenes

polychromes and instances of

• Earlier art contains shaded

• Pre- and post-Bantu Periods.

Description

C. van Riet Lowe (1952) Area

Eastern Cape and Drakensberg Cederberg Erongo and Brandberg

by

movement,

Four main styles identified in the Brandberg.

•

art.

• Little is said about the Erongo

tool culture.

• Associated with the Wilton stone

• Formal School.

contact with Europeans are found.

• Later crude images showing

with fish or swallow tails are found.

• Painted burial stones and figures

tool culture.

• Associated with the Wilton stone

• Formal School.

• Many eland.

perspective and shading.

• Characterised

tool culture.

• Associated with the Wilton stone

• Dynamic School

Description

J. and I. Rudner (1970) Area

Drakensberg-Maloti Massif Southern and South-Western Cape. Namibia

119

Northern Cape

Area

has

both

paintings

and

 Crudely executed geometrics, human figures and animals.

 Monochromes( red, black yellow and white)

• Finger dots and short dashes are found.

in the Erongo.

painted with steatopygia which is not seen

• In the Brandberg human figures are

perspective

• Humans are painted with a twisted

• Human figures outnumber animals.

engravings

• Erongo

image are found.

• Painted burial stones and mermaid

• Hook heads and handprints are common.

• Animals are shown in a lateral profile.

scenes.

• Human figures are painted in groups not

• Mostly monochrome (red or brown).

• More primitive and less well-preserved.

Wilton.

• Corresponds with the distribution of the

• No plants or handprints are seen

• Therianthropes are more common.

shaded polychromes found.

expended to paint animals with many

while more effort seems to have been

• Human figures are mostly monochrome

• Technical sophistication.

tool culture

Description

• Mostly be related to the Smithfield stone

A. Willcox (1984)

A history of research into regional difference in southern African rock paintings

Ghilraen Laue create a list of rock art sites in South Africa, published in 1941 (updated in 1952). Much of the data on sites was made up from information given by magistrates, administrative officers, museums, universities, and schools. Unfortunately, time and staffing restraints did not allow van Riet Lowe to check all reported sites, but this work was still a valuable compilation. All sites were plotted onto a map (Figure 11.1) and five broad regions proposed (van Riet Lowe 1952): North-Eastern Group, South-Eastern Group, Southern Group, Western Group and Central Group.

rock paintings with copyist Helen Tongue and tracking down sites recorded by George Stow. In 1932 she published Survey of our Present Knowledge of Rockpaintings in South Africa. Despite extensive knowledge of the ethnographic material collected by her father and aunt, she shied away from interpretations of the art, thought she did acknowledge that some might have had something to do with myth (Bleek 1932: 80). Most of her article focuses on regional difference. Three of her proposed areas seem to correspond with those proposed by Burkitt. Bleek adds a fourth area or region (Area III) which is situated in present day Namibia between the Kalahari Desert and the Atlantic Ocean. Burkitt did not get the chance to visit this area in his travels around southern Africa and does not mention the art here.

The Rudners were amateur archaeologists, tutored by Professor John Goodwin of the University of Cape Town, who published on various aspects of southern African archaeology. In 1981, Ione Rudner completed an MA Degree on the paints and pigments in rock paintings (Rudner, I. 1982). Their 1970 book, The Hunter and His Art, included their rock art copies from across southern Africa. They divided the subcontinent into eight painted areas (including Tanzania as a ninth area): 1. Mashonaland, 2. Matabeleland, 3. Brandberg, 4. Erongo, 5. Cederberg, 6. Eastern Cape, 7. Drakensberg and 8. Limpopo Province (Figure 11.2). They divided the

Van Riet Lowe was the first director of the Bureau of Archaeology in the Department of the Interior. In 1944, the institution, still with van Riet Lowe at the helm, became the Archaeological Survey and was transferred to the Department of Education, Arts and Science. One of the first significant tasks set by van Riet Lowe for the Bureau of Archaeology was to

Figure 11.2. Rock painting and engraving areas as proposed by the Rudners (after Rudner and Rudner 1970: 266).

120

A history of research into regional difference in southern African rock paintings

art into three different styles: abstract, naturalistic, and stylised. Further subdivisions of the naturalistic style are the Dynamic School, associated with the Smithfield stone tool industry, and the Formal School, associated with the Wilton stone tool industry (Rudner and Rudner 1970: 179).

Table 1 summarises the views of the previously discussed authors. I have arranged the descriptions of the different observers so that similar areas are discussed in each row. Often there is little correspondence between descriptions of the same regions by different authors. Furthermore, the descriptions given would not allow one to recognise a region without prior knowledge of the region at which one is looking. Terms such as ‘vigorous and attractive’ (Burkitt 1928: 131) or having a ‘sense of humour, (Rudner and Rudner 1970: 179) or being ‘on the whole more primitive’ (Willcox 1984: 181) to describe different styles show the ethnocentric bias of the authors and are therefore questionable (Silver 1979: 270).

By the end of the 1970s rock art research was moving away from investigations of regional difference and looking towards ethnography as tool for interpretation. Willcox, in his 1984 publication, African Rock Art, was the last to deal with regions of southern Africa on a subcontinent-wide scale. He was trained as a quantity surveyor, but his passion lay in studying rock art, on which he published widely. Willcox (1984) divided southern Africa into six regions (Figure 11.3). Region 6 covers engravings only and is not dealt with here; the other five regions are: 1. Zimbabwe and Limpopo Province, South Africa, 2. Namibia, 3. Southern and South-Western Cape, 4. Drakensberg-Maloti Massif and Surrounding Areas, 5. Northern Cape.

What all these researchers have in common is their attempt to grapple with questions of difference, both in time and space, as well as their analysis of style to find the answers. Unfortunately, they do not give clear indications of how they derive their regions and styles. For the most part, it is purely impressionistic. Early

Figure 11.3. Division of the subcontinent into six regions by Willcox (after Willcox 1984: 128).

121

Ghilraen Laue on Burkitt (1928: 132) recognised one of the principal problems with using ‘style’ to look at difference, pointing out that ‘the observer who has carefully looked at the various paintings in several sites will find it far easier to recognise the different styles than to explain their differences’.

earlier researchers (such as Lewis-Williams 1972; Maggs 1967; Vinnicombe 1976). Collecting quantitative data is time-consuming and is prone to over-complication because it is unclear what to count. There were definite differences between different areas, but this, by itself, did not give any real insight into regional differences.

To these researchers, the meaning of the stylistic differences seen was obvious: different styles equalled different peoples. Here there is an association between the Drakensberg art and the makers of the Smithfield stone tool industry, and an association between art in other areas, particularly the southern Cape, and the Wilton stone tool industry. It was assumed that visual stylistic messages were concerned with identity (Wobst 1977). When we see stylistic similarities, we need to be aware that they are giving an archaeological identity rather than pointing to economic, linguistic, or political entities (Huffman 1980). These earlier researchers did not recognise this. Instead, the differences between the stone tool industries and rock art were seen as equating to identity and, as a result, terms such as, Smithfield people, (Rudner and Rudner 1970: 180) or, Wilton man, (Willcox 1984: 142) were used. As regional differences have been comparatively underexplored in recent decades, old ideas founded on cultural-historical theories retain a tacit currency, and there is an implicit idea that regional differences point to differences in identity.

Some work, although not explicitly regional, has ascribed difference to environmental or social differences. For example, there is evidence of localisation regarding which animals were seen as powerful or drawn on as symbols of potency (e.g. Eastwood 1999; Huffman 1983; Laue 2000). Mazel (1982) has hypothesised that the higher incidence of bee paintings in the north of the Drakensberg is due to this area being a better habitat for bees. Social changes in specific areas, such as the rise of individualism among shamans in the north-eastern Cape, are used to explain specific imagery (Blundell 2004; Dowson 1988, 1994). Another example is Mazel’s (2009: 107–109) argument that the shaded polychromes seen in the Maloti-Drakensberg were part of an upsurge in ritual activity around 2000 years ago in response to the Early Iron Age settlers (see also Mazel 1989: 135–136,141; 1998). These papers are part of a body of work looking at regional and locally specific traditions (see also Blundell 2004; Challis 2012; Hollmann 2005a; Loubser and Laurens 1994; Mallen 2008; Mguni 2005, 2015; Pearce 2009). While these scholars do consider regionally specific images, there is no discussion on discerning a region and little on what differences might mean beyond the specific images considered.

More recent research into regional difference

More recent attempts to explicitly look at regionality in southern African rock art recommend that ‘motif ’ should be looked at only to avoid the tricky topic of ‘style’ (Hampson et al. 2002; Hampson 2015). A motif is ‘a distinctive feature or element of a design or composition; a particular type of subject’, as defined in the Shorter Oxford Dictionary (in Hampson et al. 2002: 17). Hampson (2015: 90) suggests approaching regional difference through presence or absence of imagery, within three broad categories ‘1. Widely distributed rock art motifs; 2. Regional rock art motifs; and 3. Extremely rare or unique rock art motifs’. Those areas with similar frequencies of motifs are more likely to have interacted with one another than those who painted very different images. So part of a regional difference needs to be looked at in terms of motif, but this is not the only factor. If motif is the only element investigated and mapped, then we see motif regions, which ignore all the other factors that contribute to the ‘look’ of the art.

With the advent of the interpretative approach to rock art in the late 1970s (see for example Lewis-Williams 1981; Vinnicombe 1976), research into regionality was all but ignored. The use of ethnography was shown to be an excellent means of getting at the meaning of the art. It became clear that the art was not just ‘art-forarts sake’ but was a deeply symbolic religious art. The efficacy of this approach meant that from the 1980s onwards, nearly all rock art research was involved in the investigation of meaning. It emphasised similarities rather than differences. There was a brief spurt of rock art quantification in the 1970s (e.g. Lewis-Williams 1972, 1974; Maggs 1967; Pager 1971; Vinnicombe 1967), but little attempt to look for differences in the numerical data from different areas. Lewis-Williams (1972: 50) presented quantitative data—on the number of human figures vs animal and indeterminate images—from a number of different areas but without an attempt to explain the regional differences. Yates et al. (1990: 33) suggest using quantitative analysis to look at regions in rock art. This approach is taken up by Jeremy Hollmann (1993) and myself (Laue 1999). In both cases, the images studied are constrained by the quantitative data collected by

Another factor Hampson (2015) argues for is an understanding of the significance of the imagery through a thorough investigation of the ethnography. He states, ‘I contend that we can most meaningfully 122

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define rock art regions by investigating not only formal differences, but also ideological belief-systems and why the art was produced’ (Hampson 2010: 7). But in southern Africa, regional differences in San art are apparent, despite the ‘ideological belief systems’ and the reason for producing the art being similar. In fact, the San belief system is so widespread that it has been termed the ‘pan-San cognitive system’ (McCall 1970: 18; Lewis-Williams 1984: 227). Although the motivation behind art making needs to be investigated, similarity in beliefs does not always translate into similarity in the images produced. Despite the title of his book being Rock Art and Regional Identity, Hampson (2015) stops short of discussing regional identity and what these differences can tell us about the past. He argues that ‘exactly what those regional emphases may signify is, at present, impossible to say’ (Hampson 2015: 112).

in the production of the images involves a community of practice or learning group, suggesting that multiple overlapping communities of practice influence the final ‘look’ of the art (Laue 2021a,b). Regional variation is thus a product of constraints in praxis, rather than ethnic affiliation. Acknowledgements This work is based on research supported by the South African National Research Foundation (NRF). Any opinion, finding, conclusion or recommendation expressed here is that of the author and the NRF does not accept any responsibility for them. This paper was first presented at the 20th International Rock Art Congress IFRAO 2018 VALCAMONICA Darfo Boario Terme, Italy 29th August – 2nd September 2018. I would like to thank Geoff Blundell, Angela Ferreira and Kharys Laue for commenting of drafts of this paper.

The way forward

References

Challenges to the study of regional difference in southern African rock art are principally the lack of comprehensive survey data and few direct dates. There are still vast areas of southern Africa where little or no rock art research has taken place. In areas where research has been undertaken, it often focuses on specific aspects of the imagery, or specific motifs, rather than the general aspects of the art. Direct dating of southern African rock art is still in its infancy. Although direct dates for the paintings on shelter walls were first published in 1987 (van der Merwe et al. 1987), since then only a handful of images have been directly dated (e.g. Bonneau, Pearce et al. 2017; Bonneau, Staff et al. 2017; Bonneau et al. 2022; Mazel and Watchman 1997, 2003). These problems with chronology mean that there will inevitably be a flattening out of the synchronic and diachronic elements which are used to investigate regional differences. It is unlikely, in the absence of dating, that we will be able to see microregional differences, but this does not mean that we cannot investigate broad regional trends.

Bank, A. 2006. Bushmen in a Victorian world: The remarkable story of the Bleek-Lloyd Collection of Bushmen folklore. Cape Town: Double Storey. Bleek, D.F. 1932. A survey of our present knowledge of rock paintings in South Africa. South African Journal of Science 29: 72–83. Bleek, W.H.I. and L.C. Lloyd. 1911. Specimens of Bushmen folklore. London: George Allen. Blundell, G. 2004. Nqabayo’s Nomansland: San Rock Art and the Somatic Past. Uppsala: Uppsala University Press. Bonneau, A., D. Pearce, P. Mitchell, R. Staff, C. Arthur, L. Mallen, F. Brock and T. Higham. 2017. The earliest directly dated rock paintings from southern Africa: new AMS radiocarbon dates. Antiquity 91: 322–333. Bonneau, A., R.A. Staff, T. Higham, F. Brock, D.G. Pearce and P.J. Mitchell. 2017. Successfully dating rock art in southern Africa using improved sampling methods and new characterization and pretreatment protocols. Radiocarbon 59 (3): 659–677. Bonneau, A., Pearce, D., Mitchell, P., Didier, L., Nic Eoin, L., Higham, T., Lamothe, M. and C. Arthur. 2022. Characterization and dating of San rock art in the Metolong catchment, Lesotho: A preliminary investigation of technological and stylistic changes. Quaternary International 611-612: 177–189. Burkitt, M. 1928. South Africa’s Past in Stone and Paint. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Challis, S. 2012. Creolisation on the nineteenth-century frontiers of southern Africa: A case study of the AmaTola ‘Bushmen’ in the Maloti-Drakensberg. Journal of South African Studies Special Issue: Rethinking South Africa’s Past, Essays on History and Archaeology 38 (2): 265–280. Davis, W. 1990. The study of rock art in Africa, in P. Robertshaw (ed.), A history of African Archaeology: 271–295. London: James Currey.

While accepting that there are problems with the word ‘style’, this aspect of the art cannot be totally disregarded. Quantitative analysis has shown that there are differences in the percentages of motifs depicted and differences in motif types, but this is just a small part of what makes the art look different in different areas. To get away from the tricky topic of style, I suggest that we take a more holistic view of the images, from conception to production. By investigating differences along the whole chaine opératoire of image production, we can separate differences that are due to natural constraints, such as environment and geology versus cultural constraints, as well as look at where in the production process these differences occur (Laue 2019, Chapter 8). Rather than ascribing difference to ‘cultural’ groups, I would argue that each of the steps 123

Ghilraen Laue Dowson, T.A. 1988. Revelations of religious reality: The individual in San rock art. World Archaeology 20 (1): 116–128. Dowson, T.A. 1994. Reading art writing history: Rock art and social change in southern Africa. World Archaeology 25 (3): 332–345. Goodwin, A.J.H. and C. Van Riet Lowe. 1929: The Stone Age cultures of South Africa. Annals of the South African Museum 27: 1–289. Hampson, J. 2015. Rock art and regional identity: A comparative perspective. Walnut Creek: Left Coast Press. Hampson, J., S. Challis, G. Blundell and C. De Rosner. 2002. The rock art of Bongani Mountain Lodge and its environs, Mpumalanga Province, South Africa: An introduction to problems of southern African rock-art regions. The South African Archaeological Bulletin 57: 15–30. Hollmann, J.C. 1993. Preliminary report on the Koebee rock paintings, Western Cape Province, South Africa. South African Archaeological Bulletin 48: 16–25. Hollmann, J.C. 2005. ‘Swift-people’: Therianthropes and bird symbolism in hunter-gatherer rock paintings, Western and Eastern Cape provinces, South Africa. South African Archaeological Society, Goodwin Series 9: 21–33. Huffman, T.N. 1980. Ceramics, classification and Iron Age entities. African Studies 39 (2): 123–174. Huffman, T.N. 1983. The trance hypothesis and the rock art of Zimbabwe. South African Archaeological Society, Goodwin Series 4: 49–53. Laue, G.B. 1999. The rock art of the Uniondale District: The significance of regionality in Southern African rock art. Unpublished BSc Honours Project, University of the Witwatersrand. Laue, G.B. 2019. Exploring regionality in the rock art of the Groot Winterhoek Mountains, Eastern Cape Province, South Africa. Unpublished PhD thesis, University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg. Laue, G.B. 2021a. Birds and blurred boundaries: Communities of practice and the problem of regions in San rock art, in J.M. Gjerde and M.S. Arntzen (eds), Perspectives on differences in Rock Art. The Alta Conference on Rock Art III: 266–283. Bristol: Equinox. Laue, G.B. 2021b. Rock art, regionality and ethnography: variation in southern African rock art. Rock Art Research 38 (2): 138–151. Lewis-Williams, J.D. 1972. The syntax and function of the Giants Castle rock-paintings. South African Archaeological Bulletin 27: 49–65. Lewis-Williams, J.D. 1974. Superpositioning in a sample of rock paintings in the Barkley East District. South African Archaeological Bulletin 29: 93–103. Lewis-Williams, J.D. 1981a. Believing and Seeing. London: Academic Press. Lewis-Williams, J.D. 1984. Ideological continuities in prehistoric southern Africa: The evidence of rock

art, in C. Schrire (ed.), Past and Present in HunterGatherer Studies: 225–252. New York: Academic Press. Maggs, T.M.O’C. 1967. A quantitative analysis of the rock art from a sample area in the Western Cape. South African Journal of Science 63: 100–4. Mazel, A.D. 1982. Distribution of painting themes in the Natal Drakensberg. Annals of the Natal Museum 25: 67–82. Mazel, A.D. 1989. People making history: The last ten thousand years of hunter-gatherer communities in the Thukela Basin. Natal Museum Journal of Humanities 1: 1–168. Mazel, A.D. 2009. Unsettled times: Shaded polychrome paintings and hunter-gatherer history in the southeastern mountains of southern Africa. Southern African Humanities 21: 85–115. Mazel, A.D. and A.L. Watchman. 2003. Dating rock paintings in the uKhahlamba-Drakensberg and the Biggarsberg, KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa. Southern African Humanities 15: 59–73. McCall, D.F. 1970. Wolf courts girl: The equivalence of hunting and mating in Bushman thought. Athens: Ohio University, Center for International Studies, Africa Series, No 7. Mguni, S. 2015. Termites of the Gods: San cosmology in Southern African Rock Art. Johannesburg: Wits University Press. Pager, H. 1971. Ndedema: A documentation of the rock paintings of the Ndedema Gorge. Graz: Akademische Druk. Rudner, I. 1982. Khoisan pigments and paints and their relationship to rock paintings. Annals of the South African Museum 87: 1–280. Rudner, J. and I. Rudner 1970. The hunter and his art. Cape Town: Stuik. Schrire, C. 1995: Digging through darkness: Chronicles of an archaeologist. Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press. Silver, H.R. 1979. Ethnoart. Annual Review of Anthropology 8: 267–307. Van der Merwe N.J., J. Sealy and R. Yates. 1987. First accelerator carbon-14 date for pigment from a rock painting. South African Journal of Science 83 (1): 56–57. Van Riet Lowe, C. 1952. The distribution of prehistoric rock engravings and paintings in South Africa (Archaeological series VII): 1–59. Pretoria: Government Printer. Vinnicombe, P. 1967. Rock-painting analysis. South African Archaeological Bulletin 22: 129–141. Vinnicombe, P. 1976. People of the Eland. Pietermaritzburg: Natal University Press. Willcox, A.R. 1984. The rock art of Africa. Johannesburg: Macmillan. Wobst, H.M. 1977. Stylistic behavior and information exchange, in C.E. Cleland (ed.), Papers for the Director: Research essays in honor of James B. Griffin: 317–342 (Anthropology Papers 61). Ann Arbor: Museum of Anthropology, University of Michigan. 124

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Yates, R., J. Parkington and T. Manhire. 1990. Pictures from the Past: A history of the interpretation of rock paintings and engravings of Southern Africa. Pietermaritzburg: Centaur Publications.

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Chapter 12

Explorers and researchers: Kimberley rock art discoveries 1838–1938 Michael P. Rainsbury Abstract The increasing digitisation of the contents of Australian state, research and newspaper archives, coupled with improved indexing and remote access over the internet has opened up a body of hitherto unknown material. This data is a missing factor in the knowledge of exploration and the opening up of the Kimberley. The developments allow accounts published in newspapers at the time, plus ‘grey’ literature reports, to be available for research. This article incorporates some of this new material to reveal a more complex history of exploration and rock art discovery.

rock art found at two caves near the Glenelg River. His book included colour plates of sketches of the art. The plates plus his description of March 26th and March 29th caves inspired comment and speculation amongst other writers and researchers which still has an impact on Australian rock art studies today.

1838 George Grey The first major expedition of discovery into the Kimberley is also the one that found and reported Aboriginal rock art. Lieutenant (later Sir) George Grey was commissioned to attempt the overly ambitious project of travelling from the Kimberley to the Swan River Colony, modern day Perth (Grey 1841). Grey landed from his ship Lynher on the north-west Kimberley coast in late 1837. The co-expedition ship Beagle, Charles Darwin’s former ship, engaged in maritime surveying. Grey’s expedition consisted of twelve men, twenty-six ponies from Timor and a flock of sheep and goats for sustenance en route. They commenced at the tail end of the wet season in early 1838 with high temperatures, high humidity and heavy rainfall, and travelled through very rough country. They discovered a river Grey named the Glenelg and attempted to travel along it. The expedition was a disaster with horses and sheep dying, and open warfare occurring with the local Worora people. Grey was wounded in the hip and Aboriginal people were shot. The expedition retreated to the coast and was evacuated. The few successes of the expedition arose from maritime surveys where the coast was further surveyed and the Fitzroy River was discovered and named after the former captain of the Beagle. The Beagle’s Lieutenant Stokes also commented on the fertility of the land which had repercussions years later. Grey’s account (1841) fired the imagination of the general public and sealed his reputation with the description of Powerful Pictures (Archaeopress 2022): 126–135

Figure 12.1. Grey’s Figure from March 29th Cave. Image courtesy of Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections GMS 136.3

Explorers and researchers: Kimberley rock art discoveries 1838–1938

The figures he sketched are Wandjina figures (Elkin 1930, Love 1917) and portray ancestral and totemic beings of the West Kimberley people. March 26th cave has the torso and head of a Wandjina on the sloping ceiling of the cave with a further four busts on a side wall. March 29th cave has a full length figure on the ceiling. The nature of the painting led Grey to draw it as having a full length robe, small dainty feet, and head bandages or turban with apparent writing in an unknown script. This figure inspired a torrent of speculation and comment. Associated with the figure are three columns of circles; coupled with the apparent head band writing this led people to try to decipher the script and interpret what or who the painting represented. For example Professor Campbell (in Crawford 1968: 67) found the script to be archaic Japanese reading ‘the number of the hopeless ones is sixty-two’ i.e. ship-wrecked Japanese sailors.

Alexander Forrest tried to penetrate the Kimberley in 1879 but was beaten by the King Leopold Range and so made a dash to the Northern Territory and the Overland Telegraph line. His glowing comments about the area set off a land rush ably assisted by himself who by this time was a land agent in Perth. Broome was established in 1883 and Derby surveyed the same year. A short lived gold rush at Halls Creek in 1885 led to the arrival of ten thousand prospectors for a two year boom. In 1886 the Victoria Squatting Company appointed Charles Burrowes to investigate pastoral leases. A base camp was established near the Forrest River and surveys discovered the Drysdale and Carson rivers, named after respective company directors. At the same time Charles Hall, who made the initial Kimberley gold discovery, travelled through the country. His route is shown as a faint meandering line on the 1886 compilation map by Charles Youle Dean of the W.A. Surveyor Generals Department. Hall followed an unnamed river, most likely the King Edward River, before spending Christmas 1886 on the Drysdale River in the vicinity of what is now Bulldust Yard.

Useful comments on the figure require an accurate rendition of the rock art. In Grey’s case the colour plate did not even match the figure drawn in his field note book. There are five head band ‘letters’ in his notebook, but six on the plate, and 45 circles as opposed to 62, important factors when trying to decipher an unknown script (Figure 12.1; Rainsbury 2021).

As for reports of rock art in 1891 HMAS Penguin surveyed from Darwin to Broome. In Admiralty Gulf, ship’s surgeon P. W. Bassett-Smith recorded art in a cave on Parry Island, ‘on the roof... had been worked in red, black, or white pigments various drawings, and among them the representation of a clothed man probably meant for a ‘pearler’’ (Bassett-Smith 1894: 330). His drawing shows a figure recognisable as a Wandjina (1894: Plate 18; also Akerman 2016, Figure 3).

Howard Coate reached the site in 1947 (Elkin 1948) and confirmed that Grey’s colour plate owed a lot to his interpretation. The Wandjina was not wearing a robe which tapered to his feet but was a figure with well defined torso and legs, with the large soles of feet placed at right angles to the legs, as is typical for this form of painting. The ‘turban with writing’ has weathered to reveal an underlying painting showing through. The best colour photographs of the site today are found in Donaldson (2013: 254–259) and show the figure is a typical Wandjina.

1891 Joseph Bradshaw Into the fray of Kimberley land speculation Melbourne pastoralist Joseph Bradshaw leased a million acres of land, sight unseen, on the Prince Regent River. In March 1891 he arrived in Wyndham with companions from Melbourne and Darwin, assembled horses and supplies and set off westwards to view his new acquisition (Bradshaw 1892). At his mid point crosscountry near the Woodhouse River he seems to have become unknowingly lost. This later led him to think he had arrived at the Prince Regent River whereas in fact he was first on the Moran then Roe rivers.

After Grey Lieutenant Stokes’ accounts of the West Kimberley led to the founding of the Camden Harbour Pastoral Association. Settlers arrived at Camden Sound in 1864 and found conditions were harsh, with feed for livestock burnt off, water scarce and one of the three transport ships later struck a reef with loss of life. A guerrilla war commenced with the local Worora people. Further deaths from the conditions coupled with the destruction of their flocks led to the abandonment of the settlement. Surveyor James Cowle wrote anonymously for a newspaper on the rock art observed in the surrounding caves (Anon (Cowle) 1865 in Akerman 2016: 5). He indicated the colours used and depictions of figures described as clothed women with halos, what today would be identified as Wandjina figures. He made no analogies though with Grey’s descriptions.

Bradshaw encountered Worora people and found rock art on the Roe River. On his return to Melbourne he spoke at the Royal Geographical Society of Australasia in September 1891 and illustrated his talk with four colour paintings of the art found. One black and white line drawing was included in his published article (Bradshaw 1892) and three others were used by other researchers. As with Grey’s paintings, Bradshaw’s sketches aroused a great deal of speculation as to the 127

Michael P. Rainsbury origins and meaning of the art (e.g. Matthew 1894). His figures were of small, lithe people painted with distinct facial profiles, a different sort of art to that recorded by Grey. Even so, later comments by Daniel Davidson (1936) pointed out that he was sketching art he was unfamiliar with and so there would be a degree of artistic licence applied (see Rainsbury 2013). Bradshaw’s watercolour paintings were thought lost until they resurfaced 122 years later at auction and were purchased by Western Australia’s Berndt Museum.

devil of the Wahgomeralis’ and is of note as being a dendroglyph, carved on the trunk of a boab tree, the first such figure that has been described. Gunn tried to form an idea of its antiquity by comparing the carving with Philip Parker King’s inscription on a boab at Careening Cove on the Prince Regent River. Gunn remarks the latter is seventy-six years old and perfectly clear and legible. In comparison the ‘spotted devil’ being now battered, bruised and parts being blurred and indistinct must be a very ‘ancient picture of ill’. Gunn’s other illustrations include paintings of people, hands, snake, fish and shield from Napier Broome Bay. A composition of kangaroo, bird, human and large fish is also described as being a dendroglyph from Shoal Reach, Victoria River, NT.

After the September 1891 lecture Joseph Bradshaw sailed north with his new bride Mary to occupy the lease on the Prince Regent River. With the party was his young cousin Aeneas Gunn. The new settlement named Marigui was not a success due to the country and the Worora people, and was soon abandoned (Willing and Kenneally 2002; Kenneally 2012). The final factor was a Western Australian tax on livestock moved into the state from elsewhere. Bradshaw decamped to the Northern Territory and the Victoria River region. Gunn used his adventures as the basis for newspaper columns published in the eastern states. One illustrated article written under the pseudonym ‘Explorer’ (1896) includes sketches of rock art and tree carvings, dendroglyphs. His article includes one of the few Wandjina images at this time and the first publication of an Argula, a mischievous devil-being (Figure 12.2; Rainsbury 2019).

1901 Frederick Slade Brockman The numerous geographical discoveries of explorer Frank Hann in 1898 and 1899 of rivers and grazing land (Donaldson and Elliot 2012) prompted the Western Australian Government to commission Chief Inspecting Surveyor Frederick S. Brockman to undertake a full survey of the Kimberley. Brockman was the leader of the survey expedition which left Wyndham in May 1901 comprising twelve men (including two government geologists and two Aboriginal men) plus a team of seventy horses and a dog (Brockman 1902). Also present in the party was naturalist and photographer Dr F. M. House. The party

The Wandjina is described as being painted in brown, red and white. The Argula he described as ‘the spotted

Figure 12.2. (Left) Wandjina. (Right) Dendroglyph of an Argula, ‘the spotted devil of the Wahgomeralis’. Explorer (Gunn) 1886

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Explorers and researchers: Kimberley rock art discoveries 1838–1938

followed a clockwise route through the Kimberley. From Wyndham they skirted south of Cockburn Range then south-west along the Chamberlain River (named by Brockman) before heading westerly and crossing the Durack and Hann rivers. The party travelled up Manning Creek noting and photographing rock art en route, and on to the Charnley River. The courses of the Charnley, Sale, and Calder rivers were mapped before moving on to the Prince Regent River. On Bachsten Creek more paintings were found and photographed. Circuiting to the east of the Prince Regent River the party headed north-west and came to the Roe River and then the Moran. On the latter a blazed tree, B91, on a hill summit proved to be from Joseph Bradshaw’s expedition ten years earlier, so confirming Bradshaw did not visit the Prince Regent River, and that his Eastern Regent was in fact the Moran River.

will be seen that the figures are clothed, and all in a similar style of garment, with what appears like a necktie just below the throat. Curiously this same style of figure, similarly dressed, occurred wherever paintings of any extent were found. In all there is an absence of the mouth, and what appears to be a halo around the head. These figures agree in these particulars with those found by Grey on the Glenelg in 1837. The colours used are red, yellow, black and white, the black being charcoal, and the other colours argillaceous earth, specimens of which we found carefully wrapped up in paper bark parcels in most of the camps which had been vacated hurriedly owing to our approach… they apparently value them considerably, choosing places, as far as possible, where they will not be injured by the weather. In all the more elaborate drawings the colours appeared to have been simply mixed with water, and could be smudged by rubbing with the finger, but in one or two places on the Glenelg I saw smaller drawings and marks in red, which were made with some other pigment, and were not affected even by the wet. (Brockman 1902: 18)

The King Edward River was followed downstream before the northern coast was reached at Napier Broome Bay. The party headed east to the Drysdale River and followed it south before travelling south-east to the Durack River and finally reaching the Pentecost River and his old camp FB4. With this he had completed the circuit; the survey had taken six and a half months. One achievement of the expedition was the discovery and photography of rock art, undertaken by Dr F. M. House on glass plate negatives. The photographs included in the official report (Brockman 1902) are the first photographs of Kimberley rock art. The art depicted is predominantly of Wandjina figures and confirm Grey’s discoveries. Dr House photographed the Bachsten Creek site and found his images had not developed properly, and so returned the next day. His new batch of plate glass negatives is regarded as being outstanding. Frederick Brockman wrote in his report:

1909 Father Nicholas d’Emo and Gerald Hill Exploration and rock art discovery on a more localised scale was undertaken by Cistercian priest Father Nicholas d’Emo in the vicinity of Drysdale River Mission at Pago on Napier Broome Bay after its 1908 foundation (Nailon 2005). D’Emo recorded rock art around the Mission and over a period of four years from 1909–1913 he sketched and painted over 91 sites on lined writing paper (Rainsbury 2017). The sketches were then stuck into a large financial ledger with annotation written around the images. In 1913 the ‘Aboriginal Album’ was presented to the Chief Protector of Aborigines C. F. Gale. D’Emo’s covering letter remarks ‘I make a true sacrifice in depriving myself of its possession and sending it to you at your request; but trust that it will be a benefit to yourself and the State if you have it in the museum as you intend’ (15 August 1913 in Nailon 2005: 207). It is now held by the Western Australia Museum (E6129).

A remarkable custom of the aborigines of the Western part of the district South from Admiralty Gulf is that of painting representations of the human figure, beasts, reptiles, etc., on almost every available smooth, vertical face to be found in the sandstone ranges… Over the area in which these paintings occur, I frequently found the pigments used at the native camps, and invariably have found them in every bundle of household goods abandoned by the natives on our approach. These pigments consist of several colours of oxide of iron, pipeclay, and ground charcoal. (Brockman 1902: 12)

Coinciding with d’Emo was naturalist Gerald Hill (1880–1954) who visited the Mission for ten months from August 1909 to June 1910 for biological collecting. Hill produced a set of watercolour paintings of rock art, individual figures being painted on each plate, 43 plates still in existence and now held by the South Australian Museum (AA134/1/1–43). Hill ranged over eight kilometres from the Mission and annotated the sketches with locality, direction and distance.

Dr House wrote on the art found on Manning Creek close to camp FB25: …consisted of a row of figures… The place was one which had been used evidently for a number of years for depositing the bones of the dead. It

The two men are not thought to have explored and sketched together though they certainly worked 129

Michael P. Rainsbury visits to places of interest, a third taken in the St. George Range and Nookanbah and Cherubin Stations, and lastly a boat trip to Broome (Clement 2013). The members split off to pursue their own interests. Ethnographer Yngve Laurell spent several months from June 1911 at Mt. Barnett police station. He drew and photographed the rock art site of Wananami, also known as Wandada. Laurell noted that ‘stone chips were wedged into the rock wall and used as small shelves, where spears were placed’ (Laurell n.d. in Akerman 2016: 12). An account of the mythology had to wait almost sixty years until Ian Crawford’s visit (1968: 53). The expedition is little known today with Mjoberg’s 1915 account being published in Swedish, and not translated into English until recently (Akerman 2014; Clement 2013). 1911 Charles Price Conigrave and the Kimberley Exploring Expedition The north-west Kimberley was explored by Charles Price Conigrave in 1911 through his Kimberley Exploring Expedition. This part of the Kimberley was unsurveyed as the onset of the 1901 wet season prevented the Brockman Expedition from going there. The Kimberley Exploring Expedition left Wyndham in June 1911, forded the Pentecost River and travelled northerly to the Forrest River. They came to the 1886 base camp of the Victorian Squatting Company situated by a magnificent boab tree. The Expedition’s route took an anti-clockwise direction to the Drysdale River Mission at Napier Broome Bay, travelling through the lands of Yiiji, Kwini, Miwa and Gamberre people (Rainsbury 2016).

Figure 12.3. Laurell’s sketch of the Wandjina Wandada at Mt. Barnett. Image courtesy of Kim Akerman.

together at times and in the enclosed environment of the Mission both would have been aware of the other’s doings (Rainsbury 2017). Hill’s sketches lay unknown until discovered by Charles Mountford in 1937. D’Emo’s watercolour album similarly languished unknown until referred to briefly in 1977.

The expedition is best known for the discovery of the Berkeley and King George Rivers, the former named after Conigrave’s brother. As for the King George, its discovery is laconically recorded in Conigrave’s day book ‘At 8 miles west of 23/CPC struck large stream running north which I called King George River.’

1910-1911 First Swedish Scientific Expedition to Australia

Discoveries of rock art were noted and published in newspapers articles along with photographs and descriptions of the art. Conigrave wrote of white, mouthless painted skulls, what we recognise from the description as Wandjina art.

The First Swedish Scientific Expedition to Australia visited the south Kimberley from 1910-11. It consisted of four members, leader Eric Mjoberg, ornithologist Rudolph Soderberg, ethnologist Yngve Laurell and museum preparator Cyrus Vidall. The expedition collected around 300 bird skins and 50 animal skins, and scientific results on ornithology, zoology and botany were published in 32 English language monographs (Akerman 2014).

The most important art discovery of the expedition was that of ground paintings, previously unknown in northern Western Australia. In marshland between Durack and Forrest rivers they came across what they described as a native art gallery:

Four exploratory routes were undertaken into the southern Kimberley; a round trip from Derby to the Isdell River, a second along the Fitzroy River with side

The marsh, for the most part, except where it had been submerged periodically by tidal 130

Explorers and researchers: Kimberley rock art discoveries 1838–1938

waters, supported a thick growth of wire grass, three feet in height. The native artists, it could be seen, had prepared their ‘salon’ by pulling up the grass by the roots; then the ground had been burnt clean and the ashes brushed to one side. Furthermore, the bare surface had been hardened by the patting of hands and the stamping of feet. The man with the ‘paint pot’ had then commenced operations by outlining the forms of crocodiles, snakes, large horseshoeshaped objects, and other things that looked like big-waisted women wearing harem skirts, and uncomfortably tight ones at that. In addition, many other things, apparently apropos of nothing, had been delineated, among the more prominent being significant figures whose motifs were unmistakable ... These ‘ground’ figures — a previously unrecorded expression of Aboriginal art for the Kimberley district — were of great tribal importance, judging by

the innumerable tracks that surrounded them. (Conigrave 1938: 74–75) Conigrave’s expedition is little known today as he did not publish in academic journals of the day nor write a book on his immediate return. His contemporary accounts are found in newspaper columns as he was a prolific columnist producing almost one hundred articles. The loss of the seaplane Atlantis in 1932 on the north-east Kimberley coast led to renewed interest in the region and Conigrave produced magazine articles and finally an autobiographical book (Conigrave 1938) of his travels around Australia and New Guinea. Great War Exploration As part of the First World War effort in 1916 geologist and doctor Herbert Basedow led an expedition looking for minerals into the west Kimberley. South of Port George IV on Berrial Bluff he found a large horizontal

Figure 12.4. Roy Collison and Charles Price Conigrave with a ground figure of a crocodile. Image courtesy of Kim Akerman.

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Michael P. Rainsbury Wandjina which he photographed and then traced. His published sketch shows a figure with dainty, slipper-like feet (Basedow 1925). His photograph of the same figure, although taken from an angle, reveals the more typical portrayal of Wandjina feet painted at right angles to the legs and with the figure of a horse and rider drawn over the chest.

Walcott Inlet, then Port George IV, before transferring to nearby Kunmunya (Choo 2012). Reverend James R. B. Love was sent out in 1914 first as a temporary relief missionary to oversee the transfer of the mission to Kunmunya, and then permanently from 1927 to 1940. Love established good relations with the local Worora people, studied their language and culture, and translated the Gospel of Mark into Worora (Choo 2012). He had a reputation for taking a keen interest in their welfare, art and customs and assembled ethnographic notes and a large collection of photographs.

In 1917 E. J. Stuart was the leader of the North-West Scientific and Exploration Expedition to prospect for minerals, examine prospects for trade, and to take film of their adventures as part of a business syndicate set up by Perth entrepreneur A. E. Cockram (Dowding 2017). The lugger Culwalla was loaded with supplies for eight months and sailed from Broome in May 1917. The boat sailed along the Kimberley coast to Wyndham stopping off at points of interest along the way. Whilst visiting the Forrest River Mission they sailed upriver to a set of cliffs which Stuart described as being covered in paintings of the animal and bird life of the country (Stuart 1923). His book includes two plates of the lower cliff faces showing a range of art. The expedition finished back in Broome in October the same year. Cockram was unable to secure funding from international backers and the business soon folded. Portions of the cinematography were sold or given away and appeared as filler in other feature films (Dowding 2017).

His first visit led him to write an article in 1915 on the culture of the Worora, perhaps the first written on Kimberley people (Love 1917). He addressed the rock art of the area and the connected beliefs. The human figures painted without mouths were called Wonjuna by his guides, and that Wonjuna live in water and make rain (Love 1917, 37). His first paper also reveals there are other deities such as Wallangunda and Ngajaia. Love published four papers (1917, 1929, 1930, 1935) and a book (1936). He mapped the territory of the Worora indicating locations of art sites (1930: Plate 1) and stated ‘It will be seen that a picture cave occurs every five miles or so… the whole purpose of these picture caves can be summed up in one sentence: they are to insure the food supply of the present generation’ (1930: 4). Love also recorded that repainting was still occurring and by whom. Between February and March 1929 at the mission’s boat landing place, a by-now faded art site was repainted. This was ascribed to Kanaway, the inaiiri

1914-15, 1927-40 Reverend James R. B. Love Western Australia’s Presbyterian Assembly established a mission on the west coast of the Kimberley, initially at

Figure 12.5. Two Wandjinas from Nyimundum Rock. Love 1930, Plate 2.

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or ‘doctor’ who had left the mission to visit his country (1930: 7). Love was able to write paintings ‘are mainly subject to renewal, or fresh execution, periodically, by Worrora men now living. This execution is done secretly, and the general mass of the tribe are told that the pictures are the work of no man’s hand’ (1930: 7). Love’s writings are the first to not only name his informants and photographic subjects (1917: Plates 3, 4, 6) but to reveal the names of rock art painters such as Kanaway (1930: Fig. 2).

and ten days at the Presbyterian Mission at Kunmunya (Elkin 1930: 257). The last four months of the survey was associated with the three-yearly inspection tour by A. O. Neville, the Western Australian Chief Protector of Aboriginals. At Munja Government Aboriginal Station manager Mr H. Reid took Elkin to view stone arrangements and Wandjina galleries, and it is thought this is how Elkin came to view Belguldo art site to the south of Walcott Inlet (Elkin 1930). There were similarities with Grey’s paintings of 1838 and Elkin wrote: ‘As the mass of rock which contains the ‘gallery’ is surrounded by other large residuals, the outer paintings cannot be seen until the traveller is within about fifteen yards of them. The effect is then very startling. It is easy to understand Sir George Grey’s amazement when he first saw similar paintings a little further north’ (Elkin 1930: 258).

1921 William Easton Expedition As part of a post-Great War plan to open up the Kimberley, surveyor William R. Easton was appointed leader of an expedition to find a suitable place for a new harbour. The seven man expedition assembled at Kimberley Downs Station and in early April 1921 set off north. The Charnley River required packs to be floated on rafts and horses swum across. When camped on the Calder River a bush fire sprang up and burnt the entire camp including clothes and boots. One particular concern was the destruction of botanist Charles Gardner’s plant collection (Kenneally 2013).

From Munja Government Aboriginal Station Elkin was taken by guides to three art sites; Beleguldo (south of Walcott inlet), Wiri Modangeri (11 km east of Munja) and Bindjibi (30 km from head of Walcott Inlet). All three sites contain Wandjina art plus other paintings. Elkin (1930: 279) was able to discuss the art with his guides and summarised his findings as follows:

With no other alternatives the expedition made for Port George IV Mission for resupply, a journey traversing difficult country. On arrival the Mission was found to be out of stores and the party had to wait until the end of May for a relief boat.

the function of the wondjina paintings is to ensure the regular recurrence of the wet season, the normal increase of edible animals and plants and possibly also of useful objects like ochre, the influence of the sun, and the availability of the supply of spirit-children. Man’s part is to retouch, perhaps occasionally to paint anew, the wondjina heads and adornments, and to paint pictures of the desired objects and species on the wondjina banja or rock-galleries... Preservation of continuity with this period is essential for present prosperity ; thus, the form of the head must not vary, and the figure, in theory at least, should only be retouched, not painted afresh.

The expedition’s route took them north with a tough traverse of the Prince Regent River before going on to Swift Bay to rendezvous with a Mission supply boat. The party then split in two to enable better coverage of their survey area before meeting again over to the east at Drysdale River Mission on Napier Broome Bay in August. Leaving at the end of the month they headed south then south-westerly finally reaching Derby in October 1921. As for the results of the expedition Easton only considered two areas as suitable, Camden Harbour and Napier Broome Bay (Easton 1922; Kenneally 2013)

1938-39 Frobenius Expedition 22

As for rock art Easton included a photograph in his report but did not indicate its location. It was not rediscovered until 97 years later by Mike Donaldson in the vicinity of Mount Shadforth (Donaldson pers. comm.).

The German social anthropologist Professor Leo Frobenius founded a research institute in Frankfurt am Main with the aim of researching rock art around the world. His first expedition was to the Congo in 1904 with other expeditions to South, West and North Africa, Jordan, Spain, Italy and Scandinavia. The publication of Elkin’s research led to correspondence between the two men and inspired Expedition 22 to the Kimberley in 1938.

1928 Professor Adolphus Elkin University of Sydney anthropologist Adolphus P. Elkin made a year long study of Kimberley Aboriginals in 1928, a research fellowship meant he was then one of the few people in the world to be paid for undertaking anthropology (Wise 1985). Of his twelve months in the Kimberley, six weeks were spent at Forrest River Mission, nine weeks at Munja Station on Walcott Inlet,

The expedition arrived in the Kimberley at Walcott Inlet in May 1938 and consisted of Dr Helmut Petri (leader), Dr Andreas Lommel, Douglas Fox, artists Gerta Kleist and Agnes Schulz, and Australian psychologist Patrick 133

Michael P. Rainsbury Pentony. The purpose of the expedition was to record rock art by painting accurate reproductions and to find Aborigines still living traditionally who could explain their meaning (Lommel n.d.: 13).

Brockman, F.S. 1902. Report on exploration of NorthWest Kimberley, 1901: Report to Minister for Lands, Western Australia. Perth: Government Printer. Choo, C. 2012. Mixed blessings: Establishment of Christian Missions in the Kimberley, in C. Clement, J. Gresham and H. McGlashan (eds), Kimberley History: People, Exploration and Development: 194213. Perth: Kimberley Society. Clement, C. 2013. Book note: Among wild animals and people in Australia by Eric Mjoberg. Kimberley Society. Accessed April 28, 2019. http://www.kimberleysociety.org/images/kimbsoc--inooyuxeey.pdf. Conigrave, C.P. 1938. Walk-About London: Dent. Crawford, I.M. 1968. The art of the Wandjina. Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Davidson, D.S. 1936. Aboriginal Australian and Tasmanian rock carvings and paintings (Memoirs of The American Philosophical Society 5). Philadelphia: The American Philosophical Society. Donaldson, M. 2013. Kimberley rock art, Volume Three: Rivers and Ranges. Mount Lawley, WA: Wildrocks Publications. Donaldson, M. and I. Elliot. 2012. The Kimberley Exploration Expeditions of Frank Hann in 1898, in C. Clement, J. Gresham and H. McGlashan (eds), Kimberley History: People, exploration and development: 182–193. Perth: Kimberley Society. Dowding, P. 2017. The Kimberley 1917 Expedition and adventures of Louis de Rougement. Kimberley Society. Accessed April 28, 2019. http://www.kimberleysociety.org/images/kimbsoc--aijuazeegh.pdf Easton, W.R. 1922. Report on the North Kimberley district of Western Australia Kimberley Expedition 1921. Department of the North-West (3) Perth: Western Australian Government Printer. Elkin, A.P. 1930. Rock-paintings of North-West Australia. Oceania 1 (3): 257–279. Elkin, A.P. 1948. Grey’s Northern Kimberley cavepaintings re-found. Oceania. 19 (1): 1–15. ‘Explorer’ (Aeneas Gunn). 1896. Some recent discoveries. The Leader (Melbourne) June 27. Page 7. Grey, G. 1841. Journals of two expeditions of discovery in North-West and Western Australia during the years 1837, 38 and 39. London: T and W Boone. Kenneally, K. 2012. Under a regent moon. Part 1: Pioneer pastoralist, plant collecting and botanical patronage, in C. Clement, J. Gresham and H. McGlashan (eds), Kimberley History: People, exploration and development: 134–155. Perth: Kimberley Society. Kenneally, K. 2013. Exploration and botany: The W.R. Easton Expedition. Kimberley Society. Accessed April 28, 2019. http://www.kimberleysociety.org/ images/kimbsoc---eeniawadoo.pdf. Lommel, K. and A. Lommel. n.d. Rock painting sites in the Kimberley Region. Bradshaw Foundation.

The expedition based themselves at Munja and Sale River stations. They visited the Walcott Inlet area, Kunmunya Mission, Harding Ranges and Calder River area before journeying north-east via Mount Hann and lower King Edward River to arrive at the Drysdale River Mission at Kalumburu (Schulz 1956: 7). Their research was made possible by being conducted to art sites by Aboriginal guides, the galleries accessed consisting predominantly of Wandjina art. The expedition saw little so-called Bradshaw art, the gwion-gwion or giri-giri of the Ngarinjin and Kwini respectively, until they arrived near Kalumburu. Schulz is credited as naming the small figures after Joseph Bradshaw though Aboriginal names of Kujon, Kiera Kerow and Djimi were noted by the expedition (Walsh 2000). The expedition visited the Kimberley at a time of change in the indigenous community with the arrival of the desert-influenced kurangara cult, the impact of mission stations, and the later onset of hostilities with the world war and fear of Japanese invasion. The war and ensuing post war conditions prevented publication of the expedition’s report on the rock art until 1956 (Schulz 1956). Acknowledgments Thank you to Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections and Kim Akerman for kind permission to use their respective images. References Akerman, K. 2014. The first Swedish scientific expedition to Australia 1910–1911. Kimberley Society. Accessed April 28, 2019. http://www.kimberleysociety.org/ images/kimbsoc---refeesaghu.pdf. Akerman, K. 2016. Wanjina: Notes on some iconic Ancestral Beings of the Northern Kimberley. Carlisle W.A.: Hesperian Press. Anon (Cowle, J.). 1865. The natives at Camden Harbour. The Australasian September 30: 11. Basedow, H. 1925. The Australian Aboriginal. Adelaide, South Australia: F.W. Preece and Sons. Basset-Smith, P.W. 1894. The Aborigines of North-west Australia. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute 23: 324–231. Bradshaw, J. 1892. Notes on a recent trip to Prince Regent’s River. Royal Geographical Society of Australia (Victorian Branch) Transactions 9 (2): 90–103. 134

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Love, J.R.B. 1917. Notes on the Wororra tribe of NorthWestern Australia. Royal Society of South Australia Transactions 41: 21–38. Love, J.R.B. 1929. Illustrations of stone monuments of the Worora. Records of the South Australian Museum (2): 137–142. Love, J.R. ´B. 1930. Rock paintings of the Worrora and their mythological interpretation. Journal of the Royal Society of Western Australia 16: 1–24. Love, J.R.B. 1935. Mythology, totemism and religion of the Worora tribe of North-West Australia. Australian and New Zealand Association for the Advancement of Science, Report 22: 222–231. Love, J.R.B. 1936. Stone Age Bushmen of today. London: Blackie. Mathew, J. 1894. The cave paintings of Australia, their authorship and significance. Journal of the Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland 23 (1): 42–52. Nailon, B. 2005. Emo and San Salvador. Echuca,Vic: Brigidine Sisters. Rainsbury, M.P. 2013. ‘Mr Bradshaw’s Drawings’: Reassessing Joseph Bradshaw’s sketches. Rock Art Research 30 (2): 248–253.

Rainsbury, M.P. 2016. Forgotten images: Charles Price Conigrave and the Kimberley Exploring Expedition of 1911. Rock Art Research 33 (1): 99–102. Rainsbury, M.P. 2017. Rock art watercolours: The Kimberley paintings of Hill and d’Emo. Rock Art Research 34 (2): 211–214. Rainsbury, M.P. 2019. Rock paintings and dendroglyphs: Aeneas Gunn in North-West Australia. Rock Art Research 36 (2): 232–235. Rainsbury, M.P. 2021. Lt. George Grey’s ‘Script’: Journal, plate and painting. Rock Art Research 38 (2): 229– 231. Schulz, A. 1956. North-West Australian rock paintings. Memoirs of the National Museum of Victoria 20: 7–57. Stuart, E.J. 1923. A land of opportunities. London: Bodley Head. Walsh, G.L. 2000. Bradshaw art of the Kimberley. Toowong Queensland: Takarakka Nowan Kas Publications. Wise, T. 1985. The self-made anthropologist. The life of A. P. Elkin. Sydney: Allen and Unwin. Willing, T. and K. Kenneally. 2002. Under a regent moon. Perth: Dept. of Conservation and Land Management.

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Chapter 13

Discovering and researching Gwion (Bradshaw) art in the Kimberley, Western Australia Joc Schmiechen Abstract Research on Gwion Gwion (previously Bradshaw, henceforth Gwion) rock art falls into three distinct periods of activity. The First Wave (Explorers, Pastoralists, Missionaries, Anthropologists) has been well described in a number of previous publications. The main focus of this chapter is the key events and personalities of Second Wave (‘Rock art hunters’) and New Wave (Philanthropists and Academics) of discovery and research associated with Gwion art.

Introduction The Kimberley is a sparsely populated and remote region of northern Western Australia, extending over 420,000 square kilometres (Figure 13.1). It is a key region of early human occupation of the continent from at least 50 000 years ago (Veth et al. 2019). European intrusion into the interior only occurred after 1838, when early explorers, pastoralists and missionaries travelled the area and described rock art for the first time (Clement et al. 2012; Rainsbury this volume). Most prominent were the imposing Wanjina figures, painted ancestral creator spirits whose haloed and mouthless faces watch over country from rock shelters. Alongside the Wanjinas, and at the time barely recognised, were small, red, elegant and highly ornamented naturalistic portrayals of human figures. They were termed Bradshaw art after Joseph Bradshaw, the first European to record them (Schulz 1956); and this name was used by many researchers and writers until the early 2000s. Increasing Aboriginal concern about the Bradshaw name led to the use of the Ngarinyin term Gwion Gwion to describe this art body (Donaldson 2012a). Bradshaw is used as a descriptor in this chapter, acknowledging the name in currency for the period I discuss, while recognising that now the preferred term is Gwion Gwion.1

The First Wave – Explorers, Pastoralists, Missionaries, and Anthropologists The Second Wave – ‘Rock Art Hunters’ The New Wave – Philanthropy and Academia The First Wave has been well described in a number of publications (McGregor and Chester 1992; Walsh 1994, 2000; Donaldson 2012a; Rainsbury 2009, this volume) and will only be summarised here. The main focus of this paper is the key events and personalities of Second and New Waves of discovery and research associated with Gwion art. The first wave – explorers, pastoralists, missionaries and anthropologists In 1838, British army Lieutenant George Grey recorded the first descriptions of Kimberley rock art near the Glenelg River. The figures described are the now famous Wanjina figures. Some fifty years later, Joseph Bradshaw, surveying the pastoral potential of land near the Prince Regent River, made the first European record of a clearly different style of art that came to be known as Bradshaw figures (Walsh 2000; Clement et al. 2012; Rainsbury 2013). Little further information about this mysterious art was forthcoming until the founding of the Drysdale River Mission by Spanish Benedictine monks in 1908. Father Nicholas d’Emo recorded local rock art including Bradshaw (Gwion) figures, as did naturalist Gerald Hill who painted watercolours of the art around Napier Broome Bay in 1909-10 (Rainsbury 2017).

The discovery of, and research into, Gwion rock art falls into three distinct periods of activity:

A.P. Elkin worked near Walcott Inlet in 1927-28, studying the Wanjina rock art of the region. He commented on seeing some strange figures in profile, similar to the paintings described by Bradshaw (Elkin 1930). Unfortunately, he didn’t elaborate on his observations in any subsequent publications.

Editors’ note: The change of name from Bradshaw to Gwion Gwion should be understood as an attempt to decolonise archaeological practice (see e.g. Goldhahn et al. 2022; McNiven 2011; Redmond 2002). As is well known, rock art and its ownership has always been a political issue.

In 1938 the German Frobenius Expedition undertook a major scientific survey of Kimberley rock art and associated mythology, with a focus on the visually more dominant Wanjina art. They noted a stylistically distinctive and different art body of fine naturalistic

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Powerful Pictures (Archaeopress 2022): 136–146

Discovering and researching Gwion (Bradshaw) art in the Kimberley, Western Australia

Figure 13.1. Kimberley Region Western Australia (Michael P Rainsbury)

figures that they called Bradshaw figures in the apparent absence of any Aboriginal name (Schulz 1956).

deteriorated appearance and the comments of his Kwini guides, who claimed them to be the works of another people long before their time (Worms 1955: 561).

The post WWII period saw a return of rock art researchers to the Kimberley. Howard Coate, a Protestant lay missionary, took a long-term interest in the local Aboriginal culture. He worked with Professor Elkin and renowned linguist Arthur Capell to accumulate a large body of work, mainly about Wanjina mythology. He also recorded some stories about the Bradshaw (Gwion) figures (Walsh 2000).

Dr Andreas Lommel, a German anthropologist member of the 1938 Frobenius Expedition, became intrigued by these paintings and in 1954-5 returned with his wife to the Kimberley to follow up on his earlier work. They found numerous ‘Bradshaw style’ figures often in conjunction with Wanjina sites. In his 1959 publication Die Kunst des Fünften Erdteils he describes them as ‘the elegant style’. His finds appeared in an article in Time magazine with several colour plates and the comment that they possibly represented a “…lost civilization” (Lommel 1959).

Pallottine missionary Father Ernest Worms also gathered anthropological data in the Kimberley. In 1953-4 he made several expeditions with Kwini elders to specifically search for ‘prehistoric rock miniatures’, noting that his Aboriginal companions and guides showed not the slightest interest in this style of art. He discovered numerous examples and commented on the similarities with the finds of Gerald Hill. Worms was convinced of their great age, based on their faded and

Dr Ian Crawford, Curator of Anthropology and Archaeology at the Western Australian Museum, began his Kimberley research in 1962. During extensive field work in 1962-66 local Aboriginal Elders took him to many important cultural sites throughout the 137

Joc Schmiechen Kimberley, providing the material for his book, The Art of the Wandjina published in 1968. This publication described both the extensive Wanjina rock art corpus and the associated cultural knowledge of the region. He included a chapter on the Bradshaw (Gwion) paintings he had seen around Kalumburu.

around remote ‘Outback’ Australia, meeting Aboriginal people and recording rock art and stories from the Elders (Stubbs 1974). Inspired by the giants of Australian anthropology and their early publications about Aboriginal culture, and supported by the fledgling Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies (AIAS), he published Prehistoric Art of Australia in 1974. This large format book featured arresting photographs along with an informative, non-scientific commentary.

Crawford’s evaluation of the Bradshaw (Gwion) figures drew on the findings of previous observers, particularly Lommel. He noted the widespread distribution of these figures throughout the Kimberley and was one of the first to note their similarity to the Mimi (Dynamic) figures of Arnhem Land. In enquiring about this art, the Elders discounted it as the peckings of a bird, Kujon (also Kooyon Kooyon and Bramba Bramba), and of no consequence, ‘illustrating nothing of interest or value to the Aborigines.’ (Crawford 1968, 86). This lack of interest was also observed by later researchers (Stubbs 1974; Walsh 1994, 2000). Crawford expounded further on some of the key characteristics of these paintings in a 1977 paper. Following on the earlier work of Worms (1955) and Lommel and Lommel (1959), he set the scene for a new wave of rock art enthusiasts to look seriously at this mysterious and enigmatic figurative art.

He noted the lack of recognition of the Bradshaw (Gwion) figures by his Aboriginal informants, some of whom dismissed them as of no importance (although see Footnote 1 above). Stubbs found the art fascinating and commented: The paintings demonstrate the greatest vitality in any anthropomorphic art of prehistoric Australia. Undoubtedly, they represent the oldest paintings to be found in the continent. (Stubbs 1974: 62.) Stubbs’s early encounters led to yearly field trips to Mt Elizabeth Station in the Kimberley pursuing the mystery of the Bradshaw (Gwion) figures (Stubbs pers. comm. 1989). This culminated in an unpublished manuscript in 1980, Kimberley Mystery Paintings. Unfortunately, at the time no publisher would accept it, considering it unappealing to the buying public.

The second wave – the rock art hunters In the 1960s, with improvements to the Gibb River Beef Road, a new road built to the isolated Drysdale River Mission, and the opening of a mineral exploration access track and airstrip at Mitchell Plateau, the Kimberley became increasingly more accessible (McGregor and Chester 1992; Schmiechen 1992; Rainsbury 2009). As a growing number of bushwalkers and 4X4 adventurers explored the remotest areas of the Kimberley, they could not help but notice the abundance of rock art throughout the landscape.

His manuscript contained clear descriptions of the characteristics of this art which did not differ greatly from Crawford’s. Additional features he noted were the lack of gender definition, such as is common with much other Aboriginal art, and something Worms had also noted. The elaborate use of ornamentation he described included many types of headdress, skirts, bags, armlets, wristlets, anklets, scarf-like arrangements and implements like batons, fans and fronds. Figures were mostly filled-in silhouettes with very few outlined, and a non-aggressive mode prevailed amongst the representations. Figures were shown mostly in dancing and ceremonial poses, commonly with a characteristic bent knee action (Stubbs 1980). He considered this as very sensual, naturalistic art, unique in the Australian rock art pantheon. He even had discussions with the famous Australian ballet dancer, Sir Robert Helpmann, about the possibility of creating a ballet about these figures (Stubbs pers. comm. 1989). Stubbs was in the vanguard with his efforts to document and probe the origins of this art body, but he remains largely unrecognised for his work because his collected views and theories remain unpublished.

Amongst this wave of adventurers were numerous avocational rock art researchers, working independently outside mainstream academia (Rainsbury 2009). Driven by the allure of the Bradshaw (Gwion) figures, Dacre Stubbs, Grahame Walsh, Lee Scott-Virtue, David Welch and I began to survey, record and research distinct art bodies within the North East Kimberly. Members of the Kimberley Society (Kimberley Society 2019) commenced long distance walks following the routes of the early explorers and noting the rock art as they travelled. Melbourne based professional photographer Dacre Stubbs was the first of the amateur rock art enthusiasts to be smitten by the Bradshaw (Gwion) art, undertaking regular trips to the Kimberley in the early 1970s. Originally from England, he developed a deep interest in Aboriginal rock art and culture. Accompanied by his wife, Pauline, he devoted twenty years to travelling

In 1986, as part of a four-year world adventure project under the auspices of Operation Raleigh, a group of 23 leaders and youth venturers undertook the first descent 138

Discovering and researching Gwion (Bradshaw) art in the Kimberley, Western Australia

of the Drysdale River in the Kimberley. Starting at Drysdale River Station in May 1986, and using inflatable canoes, they completed the 360 kilometre journey in 5 weeks (Richardson 1986). I was the scientific leader on the venture with one of the aims being to record Aboriginal art and occupation sites.

of well preserved, exquisite Bradshaw (Gwion) figures predominated, with very little over-painting by later styles. On average the Bradshaw (Gwion) figures were larger than those Crawford had noted in 1977. Two notable discoveries were a well preserved Thylacine (Tasmanian Tiger) motif, and a lone Bradshaw (Gwion) with a perfect winged headdress on a smooth cliff wall overlooking the river (Figure 13.2). I also identified two distinct variations of the main Bradshaw (Gwion) figures, along with animal associations and finely painted silhouetted figures in animated action poses (Schmiechen 1986). The expedition report recommended a more detailed examination of the area around Solea Falls.

At that time Crawford’s Art of the Wandjina was the main source of information about Kimberley rock art and its associated cultural stories. There was every expectation that new Wanjina sites would be discovered, but this did not eventuate. The expedition found a concentrated art body in the gorge below Solea Falls but a rapidly falling river did not allow detailed survey or recording of its full extent. Brief sorties into the surrounding rock country provided a tantalising glimpse of the cultural activity recorded in the many rock shelters in this sector. The lack of Wanjina sites or associated later period art was a surprise, and panels

In 1988 I returned with others to the Drysdale River National Park (DRNP) to undertake a further examination of the rock art around the Solea Gorge. After two weeks

Figure 13.2. Winged Figure (DRNP).

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Joc Schmiechen

Figure 13.3. Gwion Figures (DRNP). (Sketch by Chris Henderson 1988.)

of surveying in difficult terrain, it became apparent that this area contained a significant body of well-preserved and diverse rock art with a high concentration of Bradshaw (Gwion) figures (Figure 13.3). In 1988 I presented the rock art findings from the 1986 and 1988 expeditions at the First International Congress of the Australian Rock Art Research Association (AURA) in Darwin. This prompted avocational rock art researcher David Welch and Darwin bushwalking operator Russell Willis to begin visiting the region.

involving volunteers in the ensuing years, conducting a systematic gridded survey from the headwaters of Planigale Creek above Solea Falls to the end of the 10 kilometre reach at the north-western boundary of the DRNP. These surveys were further refined in 2009 with the help of Michael Rainsbury, who compiled much of the gathered data into a comprehensive site recording format (Rainsbury 2011). Rainsbury travelled extensively through the region and completed his 2009 PhD examining regionality in the north Kimberley rock art. During the period 1986-2019 over 500 sites were recorded in this region, and it became a focus for other rock art researchers including David Welch, Grahame Walsh, Cecilia Myers, Pauline Heaney, Michael Rainsbury and Lee Scott-Virtue.

In 1991 I made further significant finds. Funded by AIAS I wrote a Report, Shadows in Stone (1993), detailing my observations and providing management recommendations for the Kalumburu Aboriginal community, traditional owners and WA Department of Conservation and Land Management (CALM) (Schmiechen 1993). I initiated a further 20 expeditions

Father Anscar McPhee, long time parish priest at Kalumburu, developed a passionate interest in the 140

Discovering and researching Gwion (Bradshaw) art in the Kimberley, Western Australia

Figure 13.4. Joc Schmiechen, Lee Scott-Virtue, Mike Donaldson, David Welch.

abundant rock art in the immediate vicinity of the Mission, and undertook regular excursions with his Aboriginal friends exploring the rock art in the region. He is an avid collector and curated an eclectic collection of cultural, historical and spiritual material housed in a purpose-built museum at the Kalumburu Mission. Many of the avocational researchers would exchange information on their rock art hunting expeditions, and he remains an invaluable source for the Bradshaw (Gwion) rock art story.

Mike Donaldson developed his interest in Australia’s ancient rock art in his early 20s whilst doing field work in the Pilbara for his geology Honours thesis. Donaldson first visited the Kimberley in 1989 and followed up in 1990 with a nine-day walk through the DRNP. Fellow walker David Pearson recorded 25 art sites for the Aboriginal Sites Department of the WA Museum. Since that time Donaldson has completed over 30 walking expeditions in the Kimberley gathering material for three superb coffee table books showcasing Kimberley rock art (Donaldson 2012a, 2012b, 2013). He has also published papers and presented lectures on rock art and early Kimberley exploration. Along with a small band of other avocational researchers and bushwalking enthusiasts he has an expansive overview of the Kimberley’s diverse and widespread Aboriginal rock art.

Moving to Darwin in 1979, GP David Welch was drawn to Aboriginal paintings in the newly declared Kakadu National Park. It was there that he developed his observational, photographic, ethnographic and anthropological skills (Welch 2015). After hearing my presentation on the Drysdale River at AURA First International Rock Art Congress in Darwin, the Kimberley became the prime focus of his research, with the aim of discovering new sites and developing a chronological sequence. From 1988 he conducted many expeditions, often solo, to the Kimberley. He presented a proposed chronology of Kimberley rock art at the 1992 AURA Second International Rock Art Congress in Cairns (Welch 1993). After recording over 1000 sites across the Kimberley he refined his chronology to a seven-period sequence and has published prolifically on Kimberley rock art (for example Welch 1990, 2015, 2016).

Lee Scott-Virtue, a trained archaeologist and Kimberley resident since 1982, has worked as a research consultant on a variety of environmental, rock art and cultural projects. She and her partner Dean Goodgame combined bushwalking and rock art research to cover vast areas of the Kimberley over thirty years. In that time, they made extensive records of rock art sites around Faraway Bay on the north coast. In 2017 ScottVirtue and Goodgame published a paper proposing a 141

Joc Schmiechen completely different Kimberley rock art chronology to those originally espoused by Welch (1993, 2015) and Walsh (1994, 2000) (Figure 13.4).

Walsh did more than just undertake yearly field expeditions to the Kimberley to seek out new art. He made a point of not just making contact with Aboriginal Elders, but also of ferreting out every possible source of information about Kimberley rock art. Howard Coate, ‘the grand old man of the Kimberley’ (Walsh 2000: 15), was quizzed about Kimberley Aboriginal culture and important sites. Walsh visited the remaining members of the Frobenius expedition in Germany and was instrumental in having Lommel’s Unambal book translated from the German in 1997 (Walsh 2006). Dacre Stubbs, by then in his 90s, was also sought out. Walsh appeared on my doorstep in Adelaide in 1986 following the Operation Raleigh descent of the Drysdale River in the Kimberley. The newspaper accounts (Richardson 1986) of the ancient rock art found during the expedition had attracted his attention, and he was determined to track down the source. Walsh professed his main interest was in the Wanjina art although the Bradshaw (Gwion) figures soon became a major obsession.

With the untimely passing of Grahame Walsh on 18 August 2007, Australia lost one of its greatest rock art hunters. Driven by an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, tempered with a maverick streak of irreverence for all things bureaucratic and academic, laced with a fanatical obsession for collecting an eclectic array of material items from armoured personnel carriers to Japanese Kamikaze pilot’s ceremonial sake cups, Walsh was in a category of his own. All those who crossed his path were touched, taken or sometimes burnt by his charm, charisma and blow torch venom for those he disdained. Walsh initially operated a service station in Injune near the mouth of Carnarvon Gorge in Central Queensland. This spectacular white sandstone gorge is a treasure house of vivid Aboriginal rock art, predominantly stencils, and exquisite paperbark burial coffins. In 1977 he became a park ranger, establishing the Queensland National Parks Aboriginal rock art recording protocols, and developing the first rock art site visitor management infrastructure (Walsh 2006).

He was keen to get to the Drysdale River region and was set to accompany my 1988 expedition (Walsh personal correspondence). While this did not eventuate due to a last-minute vehicle accident, in 1989 several members of the 1988 expedition team took him into the DRNP for his first view of this recently discovered art body. In 1991, I undertook a 10-day field trip to show Walsh the major art sites in the DRNP. Walsh was impressed by the quality and state of preservation of the Bradshaw (Gwion) art and photographed it extensively. In his subsequent 1994 book, Bradshaws: Ancient Rock Paintings of Northwest Australia, 40 of the 99 plates were from the DRNP (Welch 2015), including some of the most iconic figures regularly featured in news articles and later publications.

Driven by his insatiable curiosity, his rock art interests broadened to the entirety of Australian rock art. In 1988 he completed a bicentennial project culminating in a lavish volume, Australia’s Greatest Rock Art, in the process covering more than 60 000 kilometres and visiting a vast array of rock art sites across the continent. The accounts of rock art discoveries by Grey and Bradshaw in the Kimberley led to Walsh’s first field trip to the region in 1977 (Walsh 1994, 2006). He considered the art stood out ‘as quite distinctive, with elements noticeably different from other bodies of Australian rock art’ (Walsh 1994:15). The two distinct art traditions of the Wanjina and the Bradshaw (Gwion) figures gripped his imagination and dominated the next 30 years of his life.

From the early 1990s, Walsh was busy refining and developing his comprehensive database of Kimberley rock art sites. He acknowledged the invaluable help of Pauline Heaney (Walsh 2006), who honed it into a powerful resource still utilised by academic research programs. He developed a Rock Art Terminology Handbook, and in collaboration with Professor Mike Morwood from the University of New England (UNE), engaged in a number of joint research programs attempting to date rock art using both Accelerator Mass Spectrometry (AMS) and Optically Stimulated Luminescence (OSL) techniques. Field work was conducted in 1994-5 and 1998 with rock art dating experts Bert Roberts and Alan Watchman and archaeologists Mike Morwood, Rhys Jones and Doug Hobbs, resulting in a number of publications in which Drysdale River sites were well represented (Walsh 2000).

In the early years he focused especially on the Wanjina, seeking not only the art but the old men who were the last keepers of comprehensive traditional knowledge and ceremony that were part of an elaborate spiritual cycle. Many Elders including Mimi (Polly) Tdeerin, Dicky Tataya, Dicky Udmara, Hector Tungal, Sam Woolagoodja, Mary Pandilow, Manuela Punan, Delores Chainmora and Billy King shared their knowledge and led him to important sites (Walsh 1994).

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The pinnacle of Walsh’s unrelenting efforts to unravel the mysteries of Bradshaw (Gwion) art was his 2000 publication Bradshaw Art of the Kimberley. Nicolas Rothwell, The Australian newspaper feature columnist, described it thus:

disputes as damaging to relationships with academic rock art researchers and arguably harmful to both sides (Rothwell 2007). The furore created by the book and Walsh’s contentious theories put an end to his previously ready access to many Kimberley properties. From 2002 onwards he concentrated his efforts on completing a comprehensive survey of rock art on Doongan and Theda Stations, supported by the Myers family who were amongst his many private patrons. Along with research conducted by the author at the adjoining DRNP and Scott-Virtue at Faraway Bay, these are the most comprehensively recorded rock art provinces in the Kimberley. Right up until his death in 2007 Walsh worked on a major book chronicling the Wanjina stories he had so assiduously collected on his Kimberley journeys. The extraordinary detail presented in the Bradshaw Art book testifies to his contribution to Australian rock art and is still a guide and point of reference to Kimberley rock

a vast unclassifiable book, part photographic essay, part speculative anthropology, bound in purple mock crocodile skin. (Rothwell 2007.) The book was dedicated to two of his chief patrons, Dame Elisabeth Murdoch and Maria Myers. By this time Walsh’s maverick approach and controversial proposals that the painters of Bradshaw (Gwion) art were possibly of a ‘pre-Aboriginal race’, and that there were climatically induced periods of cultural discontinuity, aroused considerable controversy (Donaldson 2012a). The book fuelled further controversy due to Native Title claims that were focused on cultural connections to the rock art. Rothwell described the ongoing

Figure 13.5. Grahame L Walsh 1944–2007 (The Australian, August 24, 2007).

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Joc Schmiechen art researchers, even if they do not agree with his interpretations.

organisations. Susan Bradley OAM and Christina Kennedy helped start the Ngarinyin Bush University in 1993 and later the Wandjina Foundation – renamed the Kimberley Foundation Australia (KFA) in 2001 (Kimberley Foundation Australia 2019), nowadays Rock Art Australia. Maria Myers AC, past Chair of the KFA, became a major driver in leveraging funding to support a growing suite of academic research projects, linking philanthropic support, major industry organisations, academic institutions and Aboriginal Native Title corporate bodies. The establishment of two chairs in rock art at the University of Western Australia (UWA), one for the Pilbara, funded by Rio Tinto, and one for the Kimberley, funded by the Ian Potter Foundation with KFA and Japanese energy company INPEX, is contributing significantly to aid rock art research. In 2019 a further Chair in Archaeological Science was established at Melbourne University (MU) through philanthropic bequests led by the KFA.

Perhaps more than anyone else since Bradshaw first described the figures, Walsh shone the public spotlight on the arresting art of the Kimberley (Figure 13.5). With his books, papers, lectures and unrelenting quest, he generated an abundance of media interest. His controversial views galvanised Aboriginal opinion both for and against his views. It led to the Ngarinyin people in conjunction with non-Aboriginal supporters conducting a number of excursions to revisit important rock art and cultural sites under the banner of ‘Bush University’. This evolved into the Wandjina Foundation, later to become the Kimberley Foundation Australia (see below). A watershed moment occurred when four Ngarinyin Elders, Ngarjino, Ungudman, Banggal and Nyawarra, with the aid of filmmaker Jeff Doring, produced a major book claiming the figures they called Gwion Gwion to be part of a long-lost cultural story (Doring 2000). This precipitated a movement to replace the Bradshaw name with the Ngarinyin version, Gwion Gwion. Donaldson later took this further by replacing many of the names Walsh had ascribed to key stylistic figures in the art with new local Aboriginal names. These have been taken up by some of the new wave of academic researchers (Donaldson 2012a). The political and cultural arguments that enveloped issues around the Gwion art were written up by historian Ian Wilson in 2006 in The Lost World of the Kimberley. Extraordinary glimpses of Australia’s Ice Age ancestors.2

In 2011 KFA hosted a meeting of so-called rock art surveyors - the small group of pastoralists, helicopter pilots, bushwalkers, cruising yacht people and wilderness photographers regularly visiting many of the remote areas and with an extensive knowledge base of Aboriginal art throughout the Kimberley. The meeting’s aim of harnessing this information into a comprehensive database remains unfulfilled due to disagreements on how best to provide their information to one unified repository. The first major rock art project initiated by KFA, ‘Continuity and Change’, was conducted on the Mitchell Plateau by Mike Morwood and June Ross from UNE from 2009 to 2011. Their work was followed in 2014 and 2015 by two other extensive projects; MU’s ‘Kimberley Dating Project 1’ (2014-2017) and the UWA ‘Kimberley Visions: rock art dynamics of Northern Australia’ (20152020). The dating project has now been extended as RAD-2, ‘An absolute timescale for the Aboriginal rock art of the Kimberley region – landscape processes and multiple chronometers’. The project expects to establish a well-dated sequence for Kimberley rock art, based on replication of results and confirmation across different methods (Kimberley Foundation Australia 2019). All these projects are multi-university, multidisciplinary, government and philanthropically funded projects partnering with Traditional Owner groups.

The new wave – philanthropy and academia In 1993 Mike Morwood, at my request, undertook an archaeological appraisal of a number of sites in the Drysdale River National Park being increasingly visited by bushwalking parties, to ascertain whether this activity posed any potential threat. The resulting report provided to CALM indicated that any impact would be minimal and that there were no major archaeological deposits to be disturbed (CALM files 1993). The antiquity of the art and its interaction with geological processes had created an indelible stain devoid of surface pigment: a virtual ‘shadow in stone’, unlikely to be affected by visitation other than by outright vandalism (Schmiechen 1992, 1993, 1995). Walsh and Morwood followed this with several archaeological research projects focused primarily on the Gwion art, involving some of Australia’s leading academic researchers.

Conclusion In recent years Aboriginal people have increasingly reasserted their presence in their ancestral lands. For much of the Kimberley, Native Title rights have now been established and groups are increasingly partnering with academic research institutions in projects relating to rock art, seeking scientific answers to determine the age, nature of occupation, stylistic variations and

The growing academic interest in the Kimberley was accelerated by the formation of philanthropic 2 

Editors’ note: see also McNiven (2011).

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insights into the lifestyle of these original inhabitants. Aboriginal ranger groups are actively engaged in land management and supporting research.

Western Australia. Australian Archaeology 72(1): 35– 44. Rainsbury, M.P. 2009. River and Coast: Regionality in North Kimberley Rock Art. Unpublished PhD dissertation, Durham University. Rainsbury, M.P. 2011. Rock Art Notes: Drysdale River National Park. Unpublished notes. Rainsbury, M.P. 2013. ‘Mr Bradshaw’s Drawings’: Reassessing Joseph Bradshaw’s Sketches. Rock Art Research 30(2): 248–53. Rainsbury, M.P. 2017. Rock Art Watercolours. The Kimberley Paintings of Hill and d’Emo. Rock Art Research 34(2): 211–14. Redmond, A. 2002. ‘Alien abductions’, Kimberley Aboriginal rock-paintings, and the speculation about human origins: On some investments in cultural tourism in the northern Kimberley. Australian Aboriginal Studies 2: 54–64. Richardson, C. 1986. A report on the first descent of the Drysdale River. Unpublished report. Rothwell, N. 2007. Lone wolf discovered art for the ages. The Australian (Friday August 24, 2007). Schmiechen, J. 1986. Survey of Aboriginal Rock Art and Cultural Sites Drysdale River. East Kimberley. Western Australia. Report of Findings Drysdale River Expedition 1986, Operation Raleigh. Unpublished Report. Schmiechen, J. 1992. Drysdale River National Park: Visitor Management and Aboriginal Heritage Issues. Unpublished Masters thesis, Mawson Graduate Centre for Environmental Studies, University of Adelaide. Schmiechen, J. 1993. Shadows in Stone. A Report on Aboriginal Rock Art Survey Expeditions 1988 and 1991. Drysdale River National Park, Kimberley, Western Australia. Canberra: AIATSIS. Schmiechen, J. 1995. Drysdale River National Park, Western Australia: Aboriginal Cultural Heritage, management problems and potential, in G.K. Ward and L. Ward (eds), Management of Rock Art Imagery. AURA Publication 9: 71–81. Melbourne. Schulz, A. 1956. North West Australian Rock Paintings. Memoirs of the National Museum of Victoria 20: 7–57. Stubbs, D. 1974. Prehistoric Art of Australia. Melbourne: Macmillan. Stubbs, D. 1980. Kimberley Mystery Paintings. Unpublished manuscript. Scott-Virtue, L. and D. Goodgame. 2017. Stylistic Variations of Bradshaw Figures, in A. Weiler and R. Weiler (eds), Australia’s Forgotten Rock Paintings. Oldenburg: Hanse-Wisenschaftskolleg. Veth, P., K. Ditchfield, M. Bateman, S. Ouzman, M. Benoit, A.P. Motta, D. Lewis, S. Harper and Balanggarra Aboriginal Corporation. 2019. Minjiwarra: Archaeological evidence of human occupation of Australia’s northern Kimberley by 50,000 BP. Australian Archaeology 85: 115–125.

Tourism interest in rock art and Aboriginal culture remains high and is growing. There is no doubt that Wanjina and Gwion art is of worldwide interest and ranks alongside the world’s great cultural treasures. It presents a magnificent opportunity for its Aboriginal owners to share this with the world, encourage cultural pride in their young people and highlight the achievements of over 50 000 years of continuous occupation. References Clement, C., J. Gresham and H. McGlashan. 2012. Kimberley History. People, Exploration and Development. Perth: Kimberley Society. Crawford, I.M. 1968. The Art of The Wandjina. Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Crawford, I.M. 1977. The relationship of Bradshaw and Wandjina art in North-West Kimberley, in. P.J. Ucko (ed.), Form in Indigenous Art, pp. 357–369. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies. Donaldson, M.J. 2012a. Kimberley Rock Art. Volume One: Mitchell Plateau Area. Mount Lawley, WA: Wildrocks Publications. Donaldson, M.J. 2012b. Kimberley Rock Art Volume Two: North Kimberley. Mount Lawley, WA: Wildrocks Publications. Donaldson, M.J. 2013. Kimberley Rock Art Volume Three: Rivers and Ranges. Mount Lawley, WA: Wildrocks Publications. Doring, J. 2000. Gwion Gwion. Cologne: Konemann Verlagsgesellschaft mbH. Elkin, A. P. 1930. Rock-Paintings of North-West Australia. Oceania 1(3): 257–79. Goldhahn, J., S. Harper, P. Veth and S. Ouzman. 2022. Histories of Rock Art Research in Western Australia’s Kimberley, 1838–2000, in P.S.C. Taçon, S.K. May, U. Frederick and J. McDonald (eds), The History of Australian Rock Art Research: 173–204. Canberra: ANU Press. Kimberley Foundation Australia, 2019. https://www. kimberleyfoundation.org.au/ Kimberley Society, 2019. www.kimberleysociety.org Lommel, A. 1959. From the Stone Age. Time 17 August. LXXIV, 7: 68–70 Lommel, A. and K. Lommel. 1959. Die Kunst des Fünften Erdteils. München: Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde. McGregor, A. and Q. Chester. 1992. The Kimberley. Horizons of Stone. Frenchs Forest, NSW: New Holland. McNiven, I. 2011. The Bradshaw Debate: Lessons Learned from Critiquing Colonialist Interpretations of Gwion Gwion Rock Paintings of the Kimberley, 145

Joc Schmiechen Walsh, G.L. 1988. Australia’s Greatest Rock Art. Bathurst: E.J. Brill-Robert Brown & Associates. Walsh, G.L. 1994. Bradshaws Ancient Rock Paintings of North-West Australia. Carouge-Geneva: Edition Limitee. Walsh, G.L. 2000. Bradshaw Art of the Kimberley. Toowong, Queensland: Takarakka Nowan Kas Publications. Walsh, G.L. 2006. Development of Australian rock art recording methodologies: for the interpretation of cultural and environmental histories. Unpublished PhD dissertation, Griffith University. Welch, D. 1990. The Bichrome Art Period in the Kimberley, Australia. Rock Art Research 7: 110–24. Welch, D. 1993. The early rock art of the Kimberley, Australia: Developing a chronology, in J. Steinbring, A. Watchman, P. Faulstich and P.S.C. Tacon (eds),

Time and Space. Dating and Spatial Considerations in Rock Art Research, pp. 13–21. Occasional AURA Publication 8. Melbourne: Australian Rock Art Research Association. Welch, D. 2015. Aboriginal Paintings of the Drysdale River National Park Kimberley Western Australia. Coolalinga, NT: David M. Welch. Welch, D. 2016. From Bradshaw to Wandjina. Aboriginal Paintings of the Kimberley Region. Western Australia. Coolalinga, NT: David M. Welch. Wilson, I. 2006. Lost World of the Kimberley, Extraordinary glimpses of Australia’s Ice Age ancestors. Crows Nest, NSW: Alan and Unwin. Worms, E.A. 1955. Contemporary and prehistoric rock paintings in Central and Northern Kimberley. Anthropos 50: 546–566.

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Chapter 14

Rock art research in Madurai, Tamil Nadu, India Sujitha Pillai Abstract Rock art research in India owes much to the role of the British regime during the twentieth century. Although initially languid, research in the post-independence period from the 1950s onwards gained momentum – and there was no looking back. Rock art, in both petroglyphic and pictographic form, has been reported across all parts of India. Based on stylistic affiliations, rock art has been dated to the Paleolithic age onwards and continues until today in the form of living traditions. Tamil Nadu in Peninsular India has a rich tradition of rock art. Although there is more rock art in the northern part, there are also traces in the southern part—and Madurai stands unique in this tradition. This chapter focuses on the rock art of Madurai, which has unique styles of red and white pictographs, as well as petroglyphs connected with the religion of Jainism. The paintings usually date to the Late Iron Age and the Early Historic phase, whereas the petroglyphs date mostly from the ninth to the thirteenth centuries. Publications appear mostly in the Tamil language meaning that the rock art has not hitherto achieved international recognition.

Rock art in India: History of research India has a rich variety of rock art across its landscape (Blinkhorn et al. 2012; Malla 2014). Of course, it is difficult to unsnarl the probable purpose and meaning of rock art; researchers have different opinions (Sonawane 2008). Various theories have been proposed regarding the meaning and function of rock art. After studying rock art using traditional methods, the shortcomings of interpretations meant that, in recent years, new approaches were proposed. This chapter outlines those approaches. It starts with sections on the rock art of India, and then narrows the focus to Tamil Nadu and the Madurai region. It should be noted, however, that most researchers find it difficult to publish in English and most studies are published in Tamil, meaning that scholars do not achieve exposure to an international audience or collaborators. Rock art at Sohahighat near Mirzapur in Madhya was first discovered (or re-discovered) by Archibald Carllyle in 1867; he associated the pictographs with microliths. Though there was no recording done, the bona fide remarks of Carllyle were passed on by V.S. Smith (Agrawal and Kharakwal 2002; Neumayer 1992). John Cockburn also made a remarkable contribution to early research by producing effective tracing techniques and Powerful Pictures (Archaeopress 2022): 147–154

improved methodology for documentation of sites, and compared paintings in India with those found in Australia, North and South America and South Africa (Cockburn 1899). Though the paintings from South India appear to be older than those in the Vindhyan ranges, there is no firm evidence to confirm this. In 1892, Fred Fawcett made his visit to Kuppagallu (Fawcett 1901). A distinguished contribution was made by Fawcett in 1901 when he discovered the engravings of Edakal cave in Kerala, and Percy Brown referred to these in his book Indian Painting (Brown 1917). Meticulous efforts were made by Colonel D. H. Gordon, a British officer who developed a five series system for rock painting based on stylistic criteria in Panchmarhi. Although he overlooked the historic (that is, more recent) paintings, Gordon is credited as one of the foremost antiquarians who extensively analysed the features of rock art in this region (Malla 2014). The Post-Independence phase paved the way for many of the unexplored horizons in the field of the rock art research. The rock art of the Deccan region came into focus because of the various archaeological expeditions of the Neolithic and Chalcolithic eras. The excavation reports of Piklihal and Tekkalkota were important because there was mention of rock pictures. One of the commendable contributions was by Dr. A. Sundara, who researched many rock art sites in the Krishna – Tungabhadra region (Malla 2014; Sonawane 2008). It is said that a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step. Indeed, it was the train journey of V.S. Wakankar that led him to discover the rock structures and paintings at the famous site of Bhimbhetka in 1957– 58 (Chandramouli 2011) and it was because of Wakankar that the name of Bhimbhetka became synonymous with Stone Age sites (Wakankar 1992). S.K. Pandey and V.N. Mishra also contributed to rock art studies. In 1973–78, Yashodhar Mathpal, a student of V.N. Mishra who had participated in the Bhimbhetka excavations, produced systematic documentation of the rock art using watercolours. Mathpal’s Doctoral work was considered a fresh attempt at the stylistic study of rock art (Mathpal 1978). The period of National Emergency during the 1970s was instrumental in bringing the area of Bhimbhetka into the limelight (Malla 2014; Neumayer

Sujitha Pillai 2013). With the growing interests of many scholars in this field, ethnographic parallels and analogies with modern ethnic groups of India were drawn. This recent approach has attracted a more in-depth study of rock art in all the aspects (Blinkhorn et al. 2012; Taçon et al. 2010).

a more systematic approach to documentation, and a need to study the context of related cultures too. Study area: Madurai and its Jain Heritage Madurai is an important centre of Jain heritage and it also has a rich variety of rock paintings. However, the paintings have not been studied in detail. They are spread over different taluks, and most are found on important hills surrounding the region. All the sites have been protected by the State Department of Archaeology (Sridhar 2005). Despite this, they are in a poor state of preservation. Based on style and content, the paintings have been ascribed to the Iron Age and Early Historic periods (Malla 2014).

Rock art research in Tamil Nadu Tamil Nadu has an opulent heritage and a long history dating back to the Palaeolithic. Rock art communicates between the past and the present in the form of nonverbal expression. Though rock art research in Tamil Nadu is a post-independence phenomenon, it was languid until recently. The maiden work in rock art was carried out by K.V. Raman in 1978 at Mallapadi in the Dharmapuri District during an excavation programme which opened up new panoramas in rock art research. Pon. Arasu, who worked with the Tamil Nadu State Archaeology Department, was also a prehistoric archaeologist. He took the initiative and documented ten sites around Tirukoyillur in the South Arcot region under the direction of R. Nagasamy (Malla 2014).

Madurai also has one of the richest collections – eight or nine places – of Jain heritage. The natural setting of the rocks and the water sources near the caves could be one of the reasons why the Jain monks inhabited the sites. Though they did not initially believe in an iconic form of worship, they adopted it because of the Bhakti movement which gained momentum during the seventh and eighth centuries; Jain monks saw that their religion was endangered (Ekambaranathan 2005). Thus, they (mainly the Digambar sect) resorted to iconic worship, mainly by engraving Tirthankaras (saviour and spiritual leaders of the Jain religion) in rock-carvings (petroglyphs).

The enthralling discovery of Kilvalai paintings near Villupuram by Bagur Kuppusamy occurred in 1984. The symbols garnered the attention of many linguists and archaeologists (Rajan 2008). In some places, Jainism (see below) played an important role in bringing out some of the meaning of paintings and engravings in rock shelters as the underlying complex of the region is composed of crystalline rocks of gneissic series (Dayalan 2003). Epigraphists such as V. Vedachalam, while documenting the Tamil-Brahmi inscriptions in association with the Jain beds (which are rock-cut beds without raised end sections), illuminated some of the sites in the Madurai region. His finds suggested that the caves were re-occupied by the Jains who were also known as ‘Samanar’ in Tamil.

Documentation in the Madarai area included, first, the collection of data: detailed systematic foot survey involving thorough documentation of painted rock shelters (geological formation, location, and geological coordinates), as well as locating them on topographic survey sheets for a better understanding of people-to-land relationships. Secondly, the detailed documentation of all paintings using various technologies such as digital photography; and, thirdly, the detailed description of each painting according to style, composition, colour, superimposition and patination.

There was negligible rock art research from 1995 to 2005. In 2005, however, the Tamil Nadu State Archaeology Department prepared a monograph by re-surveying all the known sites (Sridhar 2005). Researchers outside of India are often not aware of Tamil Nadu rock art because many reports are in Tamil (being the state language) rather than English. That said, there have been various quarterly journals and books published by the Tamil Nadu State department, such as Kalvettu, Avanam, and Tamilaga Parai Oviyangal. A cyclopean contribution was made from 2005 to 2007 by various researchers including K. Kumar, K. T. Gandhi Rajan, R.N. Kumaran, M. Saranya, and Valliyammal. M. Saranya and R. N. Kumaran, as part of their Doctoral research, noticed certain rock art sites in the Palani Hills of the Kodaikanal region for the first time in 2007 (Malla 2014; Rajan 2008). One downside, however, lies in the need for

Site 1: Puthur Malai Malaipatti is situated six kilometres away from Ussilampatti Taluk. The nearest village is Puthur Malai and the rock shelter where the paintings are located is known as Andikalpadavu. It is a huge cavern consisting of nearly 25 paintings and also four bas-reliefs of Bahubali, Adinath, Parshvanath, and Neminatha with a big lamp (as reported by K.T. Gandhirajan). The site was first reported by K.T. Gandhirajan and Dr. V. Selvakumar in the 1990s and the Jain sculptures were documented in 1998. There are three huge rocks and the paintings are situated in the middle one. The paintings are located in the lower ceiling of the rock and the height 148

Rock art research in Madurai, Tamil Nadu, India

of the ceiling is less than 1.5 metres. The shelters are on a hill slope and the land use around is pasture land. The art surface is formed by multiple boulders. Also, there is evidence of many cupules found in front of the reliefs. There have been chunks of iron slags found as well. One of the common phenomena observed is the presence of Aiyannar statues outside wherever there is Jain bas-relief. The place has been abandoned because of the menace of wild boars, though it is protected by the Government. Description of paintings The paintings were made with white kaolin. On the basis of style and content, it can be dated to the late Iron Age or Early Historic periods (Subramanian 2007). The size of each pictograph is approximately 10–15 cm in height without any uniformity in the theme. Also, the space utilisation of these paintings seems that there is a wide area used. Thus, the paintings are dispersed. Amidst the ancient paintings, vandalism has also added to modern-day pictographs. The themes here vary –  there are abstract and geometric shapes and fauna, with human figures forming the central theme. Anthropomorphism One of the most interesting features of the paintings is the presence of dotted lines around the paintings. Another interesting depiction is of a man with a phallus carrying a load in both hands. This figure resembles the Ramayana character-Shravan Bal, but here he is not carrying any humans (Mishra 2008). Another interesting depiction is men dancing in succession – and there is a depiction of digits on one of the figures. The body motion of all three figures is different. There are various types of human figures depicted in the foremost part of the cave as well. One shows a man with a boxshaped head; there is also another a headless human figure. A man showing his hands suspended in the air is also seen. Though his body is long, the legs seem to be comparatively short. One figure of a man is carrying a shield in his right hand, probably indicating warfare in some way. There are some unidentified designs such as those showing inverted ‘V’ and an inverted ‘Y’ shapes. Perhaps the artist had earlier decided to make a human figure and left it unfinished, as the inverted ‘Y’ might depict the human body and legs.

Figure 14.1. Tree, Puthur Malai

even in forests. There is a trace of an abstract design that is unidentified and is found in the innermost part of the cavern. It seems to be a bonfire or a small tentlike structure. There are depictions of insects as well. The phalanges have been clearly shown and also there are white dots around them. Another painting shows a six-legged insect. There seems to be diversity; the pictographs do not show succession or interrelation with each other. Vandalism has played an important role in destroying the beauty of these pictographs. There is evidence of graffiti marks and destruction of the natural surface. Also, a corpse was found recently in the cave. Bas reliefs and cup marks (cupules)

Zoomorphs and plantiforms

There are four bas-reliefs found which are beautifully carved. They are affiliated to the Jain sect indicating an iconic form of worship. The standing figure is of Bahubali (the son of Tirthankara Rishabhanatha) in kayotsarga (standing) posture which is important in Jain meditation (Zimmer 1953). The next image is of Adinath, who is the first Tirthankara, or the Teaching God, followed by Parshwanath who was the

There are two types of plantiforms as well. One depicts a small shrub, and another depicts a tree. It is noteworthy that the root has also been depicted (Figure 14.1). A man walking with a dog, probably with a spear, is also evident. The dog seems to be domesticated and indicates the importance of dogs for human settlement 149

Sujitha Pillai 23rd Tirthankar, and Neminatha who was the 22nd Tirthankara. All the three Tirthankaras are shown in Padmasana (seated) posture and a lamp is also carved in stone. The height of Bahubali, a revered figure among Jainism is 0.5 metres approximately, and the others are nearly 1 metre. There are cup marks (cupules) that are carved directly in front of the reliefs. They are considered one of the earliest forms of petroglyphs. The purpose of cup marks cannot yet be ascertained –  were they used for entertainment, or astronomical roles (Bednarik 2008)? There are between 20 and 30 cupules found and each measure approximately four to five cm in diameter.

There are some engravings in Tamil Brahmi. It is an important epigraphic source for reconstructing the history of the Jains as well as of the city. It mentions the name of Madurai as Mathirai, and the name of certain merchants like Nedumallan and Santhan. This is an important indicator of human habitation by the Jain monks. There is also a small petroglyph of a Jain Tirthankara (saviour and spiritual leader) at the corner of the rock shelter (Figure 14.2) along with a small pond-like structure near the shelter. It must have been an important source of water for the inhabitants or the monks. According to the ethnographic records, in the month of Karthik Ekadashi, the villagers gather and worship the Shiva Linga and organise a communal feast (pers. comm. with locals). Commendable efforts have been made by organisations like INTACH who conduct walks to these sites and create awareness among the local groups (Barath 2015).

Site 2: Kidaripatti Kidaripatti comes under the Melur tank; the area containing rock art is protected by the State Department of Archaeology. It consists of a huge rock shelter formed by a single boulder consisting of three panels. It was discovered and interpreted in 1984 by Sulaiman, Curator of Madurai Museum, and the epigraphist Dr. V. Vedachalam. It is interesting to note that there is a statue of standing Aiyannar with a dog at the entrance. There is the presence of Jain rock-cut beds (also known as Samanar padukai), which is carved without the raised end section (Sridhar 2005).

Description of paintings The 13 paintings are done in red ochre indicating the presence of haematite. They can be ascribed to the Megalithic period based on stylistic execution. The paintings are not uniform. They are primarily zoomorphic figures. One of the most interesting figures is of an avian humanoid where the head is replaced by

Figure 14.2. Jain Tirthankar, Kidaripatti

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the beak of a bird. The pictograph depicts a warrior with detailing in the fingers. It might be inferred that ancient man believed that, after death, the soul was reborn in the form of a bird (Figure 14.3; Sridhar 2005). There is also another figure of a warrior. However, it cannot be identified as it has been completely defaced. There is also a depiction of an antelope with a horn.

pictures of this site were provided by Bala Barathi, a rock art enthusiast. The paintings are located in the small valley known as Kurukkukanavai; it is difficult to access. There are a few paintings done Depicted are various social activities such as group dances, with figures shown with weapons. The figure of a man over a horse is noteworthy as the legs are bent, which indicates some motion or schematic form (Figure 14.4). This type of pictograph is seen even in Kizhvalai, Kozhiuttu, etc.

There is a small ladder-like object depicted. According to ancient beliefs, heaven was much closer to earth and one could ascend it only via a ladder or through a tree, clouds, carts, boats or feet, or by using the sun’s rays. The ladder motif is mention in religious beliefs and practices of nearly all religions and is essentially associated with death rituals as a pier for the soul to ascend heaven (Kumar 2013). The zoomorphic figures depicted here have a long body and short hands and legs. They resemble deer to some extent. There is also a horse as well as small insects, and also three barred lines joined at the end (a trident?) which probably can be affiliated to Shaivism. There is also an engraving of the phallic form of Shiva which is the result of recent vandalism in the name of religion.

There are some other symbols like the star and circle, probably indicating the celestial body. The damru (two-headed small drum) and the trident probably symbolise affiliation to Shaivism. It also indicates their knowledge of music (Sridhar 2005). One can also see a man with headgear signifying some chief, shaman, or demon. There is an interesting depiction of a horse and rider, too. He is shown standing on his horse with his digits being depicted. There is a depiction of one more mounted warrior equipped with a spear or weapon in his hand. Site 4: Vikkiramangalam This Jain monument is known as Nadumuthalaikulam, and is protected by the Government of Tamil Nadu. It has a Jain bas-relief of a standing Tirthankara which has been converted into a Hindu God and worshipped by

Site 3: Anaipatti Anaipatti is situated in the Western part of Madurai, near Sittarmalai (also known as Mahalingamalai). The

Figure 14.3. Bird-headed man, Kidaripatti

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Figure 14.4. Man riding a horse, Anaipatti

local people as Skanda or Murugan. The cave is formed by a single boulder. There was illegal stone quarrying here, too. However, because of the efforts of the Government, it has ceased. The other side of the cave is known as Raja Rani; it has ancient as well as modern white kaolin paintings as well as engravings. It depicts two men marching; the other figure is unidentified because of the poor condition of the rock shelter. It is interesting to note that there are cup marks found here. There is also a door jamb indicating that the cave was used as a habitation. There is also an inscription written in Tamil-Brahmi outside the shelter.

include horse-riders, conflict scenes, pastoralism, domestic dogs, group dancing and the depiction of plants.

Themes and chronology of rock art in the region

The style of execution is very fine. Some figures are shown suspended in the air whereas some of them are shown in motion; the legs of the horses at Anaipatti, for instance, are bent indicating some kind of locomotion. Though they cannot be accurately dated, based on style and content they probably belong to the Iron Age or Early Historic period. The figures also show the relation of people with the outside world, and how these ocular visions inspired them to reflect these through art in the rock shelters.

Compared to Central India, paintings in South India have a narrow range of themes (Dayalan 2003). The paintings in Madurai exhibit a variety of themes, however. In Puthur Malai, for example, there are human stick figures, as well as box-headed figures. Anthropomorphic and zoomorphic figures dominate. There are many sub-types of anthropomorph found. Some have phalluses, some show toes and fingers, one is bird-headed (e.g. at Kidaripatti). The various zoomorphs depicted include dog, horse, antelope and deer, with a preponderance of wild animals. There are very few abstract symbols found. The general themes

The chronology of art in this region is merely based on the styles without any absolute dates or relative chronology since there is so little superpositioning. It is very interesting because there are few traces of Palaeolithic to Mesolithic art continuing up to Neolithic, Megalithic and Early Historic as well. The last phase of the Iron age overlaps with the Early Historic period in Tamil Nadu (Malla 2014). Madurai, which comes under Southern Tamil Nadu, acts as the tip of the rock art sites; there is hardly any (known) continuation of rock art after this region. The paintings are usually made with white kaolin or hematite. The size of the 152

Rock art research in Madurai, Tamil Nadu, India

paintings varies but is usually 5–25 cm in height. One of the most interesting features is that the paintings have fine finishing without the presence of superimposition.

E.

Inscriptions and cultural context The inscriptions constitute an important source for various socio-economic and religious perspectives. In Kidaripatti, for example, there is an inscription giving the etymology of the city name as Mathirai, the modern-day Madurai. The top portion of the cave bears an inscription mentioning ‘Mathirai Pon Kollan Adan Adan’, signifying the name of the goldsmith as Adan Adan who belonged to Madurai. Additionally, there is mention of various merchants like Viyakkan, the salt merchant Nedumallan and Santhan, who sold camphor and sugar, and agrarian tools respectively (Barath 2015). There are inscriptions in Tamil Brahmi engraved on Jain rock-cut beds as well. However, due to the poor state of conservation, they are impossible to decipher.

creature with four legs could be perceived as many different types of animal. There can be a degree of variability in the same kind of symbol. For example, there are many forms in which human figures can be depicted, from stick figures to ‘S’ shapes.

Cognitive fluidity There are three steps involved which provoke one in the creation of these symbols (Mithen 2003): A. Preparation of a pre-conceived mental template. B. Intentional communication with the object which contributes to social intelligence. C. Attribution of meaning to the visual image. Meaning cannot always be ascertained. Maybe the artist created art out of illusion or as a result of subjectivism. Anthropomorphism is one of the dominant themes; it enhances our knowledge of the human-animal relationship. War scenes are common, and detailed (e.g. the horse rider at Anaipatti). In some instances, birds are associated with human forms (e.g. at Kidaripatti there is a bird-headed man). The creativity behind such types of pictographs may be ascribed to the totemistic belief or concept of re-incarnation. In the case of petroglyphs, a painstaking effort was taken by the sculptors. Thus, aesthetic beauty is judged by form, content, and matter; merely seeing the creation and then guessing at it does not do justice to the art.

Also, one finds the local guardian deities of Hinduism such as Aiyanar or Karuppu Veeran in front of all these Jain sites. Their association cannot be ascertained precisely as they belong to two different religious sects. There have been many medieval potsherds found, and two Chola period coins have been reported from the site of Puthur Malai (pers. comm. with Mr. Gandhirajan). Though they have not been studied in detail, an attempt has been made for studying ceramics. In Kidaripatti one can still find red slipped ware, along with more ancient pottery. On the whole, the sherds found from the sites display a great variety of very fine material. Some contain slip whereas some contain sand particles as well. The sherds seem to be easily breakable and they range from ill-fired to medium-fired. Their sections are black and only a few contain a red section.

Inferences and further research Though Peninsular India has a rich collection of rock art of various periods, it has not yet attracted the attention it deserves. However; efforts have been made by many scholars to enrich its value. The state of Tamil Nadu has a host of more than 120 rock art sites (Malla 2014). One of the main challenges faced by rock art researchers in Tamil Nadu is their proficiency to express themselves in English rather than Tamil. This prevents the exposure of various important researchers.

Cognition and symbolism There are archaeological reports that suggest that these works of art are not produced in leisure time, but rather as a by-product of stress. Steven Mithen (2003) defines five critical properties of a visual symbol:

Evidence of cup marks or cupules (also known with linear grooves) is important. They are the earliest evidence of petroglyphs; they are found in Puthur Malai. According to Bednarik (2012), these cup marks date back to Pleistocene times in India. They might be the primitive indicator of the development of symbolism (Bednarik 2012). However, the purpose behind the cup marks or linear grooves cannot be ascertained as the understanding of the researcher varies, and one cannot draw absolute conclusions based on simplistic observations.

A. The form of the symbol may be arbitrary to the referent. For example, the symbol ‘3’ does not resemble three of anything. B. The aim of creating these symbols is communication. Thus, it acts as a catalyst. C. There is a possibility of time displacement between the past and the future of the symbol and its referent. For example, horse-and-chariot indicate war in the past, something that one cannot see today. D. The specific meaning which a symbol conveys may differ among individuals. For example, a

Interestingly, these sites are associated with Jain monks. As these sites were occupied almost at the same 153

Sujitha Pillai Chandramouli, N. 2002. Rock-art of South India. New Delhi: Bharatiya Kala Prakashan. Cockburn, J. 1899. Cave drawings in the Kaimur Range, Northwest Provinces. Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain 51: 89–97. Dayalan, D. 2003. Kalpavrksa: Essays on art, architecture, and archaeology. New Delhi: Bhartiya Kala Prakashan. Ekambaranathan, A. 2005. Jain archaeological heritage of Tamil Nadu. Chennai: Eswari Offset Printers. Fawcett, F. 1901. Notes on the rock carvings in the Edakal Cave, Wynaad. The Indian Antiquary 30: 409–521. Kumar, A. 2014. An appraisal of ladder symbolism with special reference to rock art, in A. Kumar (ed.), Rock art: Recent researches and new perspectives (Festschrift to Padma Shri Dr. Yashodhar Mathpal), Volume 1: 81–104. New Delhi: New Bharatiya Book Corporation. Malla, B.L. 2014. Rock art studies: Concept, methodology, context, documentation, and conservation, Volume 1. New Delhi: Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts. Malla, B.L. 2014. Rock art studies: Interpretation through multi-disciplinary approaches, Volume 2. New Delhi: Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts. Mathpal, Y. 1978. Prehistoric rock paintings of Bhimbetka, Central India. Pune: Unpublished Doctoral Thesis, Deccan College, Pune. Mishra, S. 2008. An unfinished ancient tale. India Today 22 May 2008, accessed 14 March 2020, https:// www.indiatoday.in/offtrack/story/an-unfinishedancient-tale-25566-2008-05-22. Mithen, S. 1996. The Prehistory of the human mind. London: Thames and Hudson. Neumayer, E. 2013. Prehistoric rock art of India. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Rajan, K. 2008. Rock art in South India: A status report. Purakala 18: 5–22. Sridhar, T.S. 2005. Rock art of Tamil Nadu. Chennai: State Department of Archaeology, Government of Tamil Nadu. Sonawane V.H. 2008. Man and environment XXXIII (1): Indian Society for Prehistoric and Quaternary Studies 2008: 1–13. Subramanian, T.S. 2007. Rich haul at rock art site in Tamil Nadu. The Hindu, 19 October 2007, accessed 10 April 2021, https://nssmembersforum.proboards. com/thread/3729/rock-site-discovered-tamilnadu. Taçon, P.S.C., N. Boivin, J. Hampson, J. Blinkhorn, R. Korisettar and M. Petraglia. 2010. New rock art discoveries in the Kurnool district, Andhra Pradesh, India. Antiquity 84 (324): 335–350. Wakankar, V.-S. 1992. Rock painting in India, in M. Lorblanchet (ed), Rock art in the Old World: 285–301. New Delhi: Indira Gandhi National Centre for Arts. Zimmer, H. 1953. Philosophies of India. London: Routledge.

time, the influence of religion over the area is apparent. The perception of these petroglyphs from an aesthetic point of view is noteworthy. They are embellished intricately, and often placed at a height of more than eight metres. Each petroglyph measures approximately 30-40 cm tall. In Vikkiramangalam, there is a bas-relief of a (possible) Jain Tirthankara which is mistakenly worshiped as the Hindu God Skanda or Murugan. These types of petroglyphs are significant in promoting iconic worship and a new appraisal of petroglyphic art. The government is trying to protect these sites, however, many of the paintings have been destroyed by vandalism or by biological factors. For example, at Vikkiramangalam the villagers mistook the rock paintings for modern-day graffiti and painted over them. Similarly, in Puthur Malai, there was a recent case of a corpse being disposed of in the cavern because there was no human activity in the caves (K. T. Gandhirajan pers. comm.). Aesthetics form an important factor the creation of these paintings. Though beauty lies in the eye of the beholder, one cannot deny that these artists took tremendous efforts to create the images – whatever the purpose may have been. Gratitude must be expressed, for they have left a message for the present-day society as well. Thus it lies in the hands of the present society to cherish and enrich the value of the art through proper preservation. Overall, these rock art sites – pictographs or petroglyphs –  deserve attention. They tell us about the past as well as about present-day societies. Documentation methods in Tamil Nadu are slowly improving. Scientific intervention such as pigment sampling and using digital techniques for documentation is called for. This chapter took simple documentation with motif study as a starting point and aimed to shed light on the cultural richness of previously-ignored Tamil Nadu rock art. References Agrawal, D.P. and J.S. Kharakwal 2002. South Asian Prehistory: A multidisciplinary study. New Delhi: Aryan Books International. Barath, N.S. 2015. The Hindu: Connecting with history. Madurai. India. Bednarik, R.G. 2008. Cupules.  Rock Art Research 25 (1): 61–100. Blinkhorn, J., N. Boivin, P.S.C. Taçon and M. Petraglia. 2012. Rock art research in India: Historical approaches and recent theoretical directions, in J. McDonald and P. Veth (eds), A companion to rock art: 179–196. Oxford: Willey–Blackwell. Brown, P. 1917. Indian painting. Calcutta: Y.M.C.A. Publications. 154

Chapter 15

Historical overview of Mongolian rock art studies Tseren Byambasuren Abstract Mongolian rock art sites were first recorded and published in 1886 by the researcher Potanin who was sent to the region by the Imperial Russian Geographical Society. From 1948 – 1990, local archaeologists and prehistorians independently and jointly conducted field research with scholars from the Soviet Union. From the 1990s, cooperation with other countries became possible as the country transitioned to a democratic society. This chapter provides a chronological overview of Mongolian rock art research, highlighting reports and publications. It also provides a general understanding of rock art in Mongolia.

Mongolia is home to rich galleries of rock art, some of which have earned UNESCO heritage status for Outstanding Universal Value. The local herders have long known and been aware of this special cultural heritage, demonstrated by geographical names such as bichigt written on, zuragt drawn on, morit horses, yamaat goats, and bugat deer (Tseveendorj 1999). Historical Overview Mongolian rock art was first reported by the Russian researcher G.N. Potanin, who travelled under the auspices of the Imperial Russian Geographical Society. Potanin came to the northwestern part of Mongolia eight times between 1876–1899 and published four volumes of ethnographic and archaeoloical findings (Potanin 1883). In 1889, N. M. Yadrintsev supervised the Orkhon Expedition supported by the Imperial Academy of Science. In his diary he wrote about photographing ‘enigmatic script and signs…and also of animal images resembling that of wild goat’ (Yadrintsev 1891). V. V. Radlov, the German-born ‘Russian founder of Turkology’ (Devlet and Devlet 2011), led a team sponsored by the Imperial Academy of Science to primarily study Orkhon Valley runic scripts. He noted and included petroglyphs along the rivers Khanui and Ulaan Khad (Table 4 and Figs 1–3) in his Atlas of Ancient Mongolia (Radlov 1892). The Institute of the Scripture of Mongolia was established in 1921. In 1924 this became the Institute of History, and eventually expanded into the Mongolian Powerful Pictures (Archaeopress 2022): 155–159

Academy of Sciences. It played the crucial role in conducting numerous archaeological and historical researches. Borovka, who came to Mongolia as part of Yadrintsev’s team in 1891, was again asked by the Russian Academy of Sciences to study the outstanding discovery of the century made by Kozlov of the Noyon uul Xiongnu burials. In addition to discovering 400 more small slab burials during the expedition in 1925, Borovka surveyed the basin of the Tuul river and fully documented rock art in Ulaan khad, Ikh Alag and Durvuljin. He dated the production of these petroglyphs to the same period as the slab burials – Scythic-Siberian or Turkic (within the Iron Age). According to Tseveendorj, this was the first attempt to date Mongolian rock art. From 1930, archaeological surveys were put on hold due to the international conflict and did not resume until well over a decade after World War II. Starting from 1940, national researchers started collaborative expeditions (Sanjmyatav1995). From 1947–1980, Mongolia-Soviet joint expeditions, and independent national archaeoloists such as Kh. Perlee, Ts. Dorjsuren, D. Dorj, and D. Tseveendorj, identified and published rock art. The beginning of the 1950s saw an increase in the pace of the identification and reporting of rock art by national professionals. In 1952, the geographer O. Namnandorj reported red ochre pictographs of ostrich, mammoth and a wild camel in Khoid Senkher cave, located in Mankhan soum of Khovd aimag. This is the only known parietal rock art in Mongolia. Namnandorj asked local Buddhist monk J. Vanchig to draw the pictographs using brown pencil in his notebook. Namnandorj proposed that the pictograph dated to the Neolithic (Tseveendorj et al. 2005). In the 1960s, Mongolia-Soviet collaborative expeditions –  both archaeological and ethnographic –  were carried out under the supervision of A. P. Okladnikov. These played an important role in understanding the Paleolithic people in the Mongolian territory and how their culture compared to that of others. In 1972, Okladnikov published a monograph on Khoid Senkher pictographs. Based on his comparative analysis of style, and the execution of cave pictographs in France, he concluded that just as the development of art originated in the west, Khoid Senkher pictographs show

Tseren Byambasuren that Asia had independently developed artistic ability and sophisticated execution (Purevjav et al. 2011). Okladnikov produced numerous monographs on the rock art of Mongolia. The most comprehensive was the 1981 book Petroglyphs of Mongolia, which contained rock art from 46 localities across 11 aimags (provinces).

and, furthermore, offers various methodologies for studying the rock art of Mongolia. Collaborations from the 1990s onward After the political transition from communism to a democratic system in 1990, a joint scientific research project started in 1994. Headed by D. Tseveendorj, E. Jacobson and W.D. Kubarev, this Mongolian-USARussian expedition was a major long-term project that included an extensive study of the largest rock art sites in Mongolia, including the newly recorded Tsagaan Salaa, Baga Oigor, and Khar Yamaa rock art sites in Ulaan khus soum of Bayn Ulgii aimag. In these areas there are perhaps 75000–100000 petroglyphs and pictographs. These have been documented and published in English in addition to the Mongolian and Russian languages, making the research results available to much wider audiences. Digitised archives of high quality images are available at https://mongolianaltai.uoregon.edu/ theproject.php.

D. Dorj started on his scholarly path in 1960 after graduating from the History department of the University of Leningrad. His wrote his dissertation on Mongolian rock art under the supervision of A. P. Okladnikov. D. Dorj produced prolific works on Mongolian rock art in the 1960s; in 1975 he and A. E. Novgorodova analysed rock art documented by him and others during their fieldwork in 31 areas in 13 aimags. He made a classification scheme for Mongolian petroglyphs. This was the first time Mongolian rock art was classified into a scheme, based on ‘iconography and illustrative techniques’ (Dorj 2007). D. Tseveendorj trained as an archaeologist at the History Faculty of the University of Moscow, and led over 40 expeditions in collaboration with Russian, Hungarian, Japanese, Korean, USA, and French scholars. Among the massive contribution he made to the field of archaeology, he introduced rock art at Mojoo as evidence for Mongolia being one of the three regions where domestication of animals independently took place. In his 1999 book History of Mongolian Prehistoric Art, he wrote about the development of decorative art in Mongolia from the Upper Paleolithic on. The book included analysis of rock art and stone monuments engraved with deer images (‘deer stones’) in 60 localities in 14 aimags (Tseveendorj 1999). In his paper Animal domestication studied through rock art, presented in 1987 at the 5th International Congress of Mongolists, he proposed that Mongolia was one of the few originating places where animal domestication took place during the Mesolithic Age (15000-8000 years BP)(Sanjmyatav 1995).

Korea In 2008, Korea’s Northeast Asian History Foundation and the Institute of Archaeology of the Mongolian Academy of Sciences jointly put together a 7-member team. The team surveyed rock art and deer stones in Arkhangai, Khuvsgul, Khentii and Uvs aimags over a one month period. The overall purpose for this fieldwork was to track the distinctive characteristics of Central Asian (surveys conducted in Khakasia with the Institute of History of Material Culture of the Russian Academy of Sciences in 2006) rock art that might help reveal the lineage of Korean rock art (Jung Seogho et al. 2009). The fieldwork results were published in two volumes with high quality photographic documentation and drawings. Russia In 2015, Uranchimeg (the Director of the School of Fine Art and Design, Mongolian State University of Arts and Culture) initiated a joint fieldtrip with the scholars and artists from the cities of Krasnoyarsk, Barnaul, and Moscow to document Rashan Khad rock art in Batshireet soum of Khentii aimag. In addition to photographing over 300 tamgas for digital archive purposes, the team collected information on horse ownership tamga and on rituals concerning local people who plead for permission from Rashan khad to use a certain tamga. As a result of this field trip lecturer B. Enkhchuluun prepared a documentary on how to professionally identify and record newly found rock art. Also, D. Ulziibayar painted several paintings inspired by rock art: ‘Song of the Moon’, ‘Lords of the Steppe’,

In 1987, N. Ser-Odjav published on rock art discovered at Bichigtiin am in Bayan Lig soum in Bayankhongor aimag. This concentration of rock art comprises ibexes, deers, argalis, horses, camels, and other animals such as dogs, birds, and snakes. In addition, there are scenes of hunting, warfare, symbolic images for fertility, and agricultural growth. He related these images to the period from the 7th century BC to the 1st century AD (Ser-Odjav 1987). As databases increase in number and size, there is a growing need to analyse regionally and propose fresh approaches towards the study of rock art. N. Batbold’s Research on Petroglyphs of the Mongolian Gobi (2014) brings together petroglyphs from 52 sites from the Gobi region

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engravings, and inscriptions are considered to be tangible cultural heritage regardless of whether the art belongs to private individuals, businesses, or the government. The Centre developed and utilised RICH 2.0 and RICH 3.0 programmes (Registration of Immovable Cultural Heritage) and recorded locality IDs, geographical coordinates, photographs, brief definitions, etc.

‘inscriptions of heavens’, and ‘The tamga dancer’. There also have been efforts to combine Rashan khad rock art with modern Mongolian designs and come up with an eclectic new style of cultural product. S. Badral, for instance, has incorporated rock art into his sculptures and ink work compositions (Rashan Khad 2016). Multinational collaborations

As an example of the distribution of rock art in Mongolia the following chart is taken from the 2015 registered cultural heritage database. Rock art sites were categorised and counted as a group (Ankhsanaa 2018).

The first international rock art conference in Mongolia – ‘Rock Art: History, Memory and Dialogue’ –  was convened in 2016 under the auspices of the President of Mongolia and funded by UNESCO. It attracted 15 international experts from Australia, Azerbaijan, China, France, Japan, Senegal, South Korea, Spain, Russia, the United Kingdom and USA, plus 60 domestic researchers from various institutes and universities, and also representatives of UNESCO, CIPSH and IFRAO. The conference discussion revolved around a range of themes and pointed out several critical points: a) emphasis on using testable theories in rock art interpretation; b) need for developing novel scientific methods for dating; and c) necessity of community and government involvement in preserving and managing rock art sites (UNESCO 2016).

Names of aimags and cities

Arkhangai Bayn Ulgii Baynkhongor Govi-Altai Govisumber Darkhan-Uul Dornogovi Dornod Dundgovi Zavkhan Orkhon Uvurkhangai Umnugovi Sukhbaatar Selenge Tuv Uvs Khovd Khuvsgul Khentii Ulaanbaatar

Distribution of Rock art Although there are still no official numbers available, there are an estimated 300 rock art sites in Mongolia, and more are discovered and recorded each year (Batbold 2014). Research shows that in the west, central and southern part of the country belong to various periods and traditions. In central Mongolia and the southern part of inner Baikal, there are Bronze Age pictographs. Rock art in the central and western part of Mongolia is relatively well studied, whereas the southern part is not.

Total number of groups

Rock art, rock inscription

Group of rock art Numbers of images 37 26 48 90 1 5 35 4 36 93 0 50 51 21 20 21 79 92 72 58 3

981

Total number of images

State preservation and documentation

23 29 5320 105 1 5 46 7 37 101 0 118 51 20 44 178 86 307 91 59 3

6796

Themes

A registered database of 300 cultural heritage sites was developed between 1971–1994. The Centre of Cultural Heritage of Mongolia started the process of digitisation.

Ochre pictograph compositions consist of: 1.

In 2005, the Mongolian government cabinet announced a national program to digitise information and safeguard tangible cultural heritage. The project, which took place from 2008–2015 in 15 aimags, registered about 3500 cultural heritage sites with attached information (metadata) such as GPS coordinates, photography, video and brief definitions (Ankhsanaa 2017).

2. 3.

Animals and different signs: these are usually of Palaeolithic age Cross (Upper Palaeolithic) Numerous dots in a rectangle or circle; and birds, humans, or animals (Bronze Age)

Mongolian petroglyphs can be broadly classified into the following:

According to article 5 of the newly amended ‘Safeguarding cultural heritage’ law, rock paintings,

1. Animals 2. ‘Way of life’ (depicting human activities) 157

Tseren Byambasuren 3. 4. 5.

Religious beliefs and funeral rite themes Tamga or clan signs Ambiguous figures

Chronology Borovka made the first attempt to date rock art in 1925. D. Dorj and E.A. Novgorodova coauthored the book ‘Мир Петроглифы Монголий’ (World of Petroglyphs of Mongolia) (1984). They studied rock art in 31 localities in 13 aimags and classified the rock art of Mongolia into 6 periods (Tseveendorj et al. 2007).

Wheeled carts One of the themes that attracted numerous scholars’ attention is the representation of wheeled vehicles. In 1975 Academicians A. P. Okladnikov and D. Tseveendorj supervised the Palaeolithic archaeological expedition along the Orkhon River and Baruun mogoi in Orkhon soum of Bulgan Province, in Tsenguunjaviin muna in Burentogtokh soum of Khuvsgul aimag in Modtoi tolgoi and khuukhdiin ovoo in Tsetserleg soum of Khuvsgul aimag, and in Zuraagiin ulaan khad in Zuun khangai soum of Uvs aimag. The Khuukhdiin ovoo and Modtoi tolgoi petroglyphs relate to 3000 BC–2000 BC, and the Baruun mogoi and Orkhon petroglyphs to 2000 BC–1000 BC. Furthermore, it is proposed that wagons and wheeled cart pictographs illustrate the domestic usage of wagons or wheeled carts rather than warfare. In addition, Jacobson-Tepfer, who analysed 212 Bronze Age petroglyphs derived from Gorno-Altai, Tuva, and Mongolia, concluded that wheeled chariot or wagon images with drivers were not depicting aggressive acts, but rather these wagons were for domestic utility (Jacobson-Tepfer 2012).

1. 2.

3. 4. 5. 6.

Palaeolithic: Hoid Senkher cave, Rashan Khad, Chandmani khar uzuur, Temeen khuzuu, Baga gazriin chuluu Bronze Age – beginning of Iron Age (XV - XII BC): Yamaan us, Arabjih, Temeen Chuluunii am, Bayn Ulgii, Ikh tengeriin am, Gachuurt, Bichigt had, Tolijiin boom Hunnu Period (I BC - I, II BC): Yamaan us wheeled wagon and other clan signs Turkic (VII-VIII AD): script on Kultugin monuments, Ikh asgat, Erdeneburen soum rock art Kyrgyz period (IX AD): Man riding horse in Dorno gobi Medieval Mongolian period (XI AD): Ulaanbaatar: black ink painting in Ikh tengeriin am

Rock art in Mongolia has typically been dated by comparing it to excavated artefacts from nearby sites, and also by stylistic comparisons.

Clan signs One of the special finding throughout the country is tamga, which possess archaeological, historical and ethnographical significance. Tamgas are family or clan signs, and they are also utilised as ownership marks on herds and other possessions. Prehistorian Kh. Perlee undertook a history-ethnographical study and documented more than 400 tamga and images of animals on Rashan Khad rock in the Batshireet soum of Khentii aimag. Rashan Khad is located near the ‘Three Rivers’ basin where Khuruldai (great gatherings) are held for state meetings, marriages and other rituals, from generation to generation. Clans participating in these important events engraved and drew their clan signs. Overall, Perlee collected 760 clan signs in 13 places across Mongolia. He compared them to those found in Siberia, central Asia, Europe, North America and Central Africa and published his book ‘Searching for the origins of Mongolians through Tamga’ (Perlee 1975). He hypothised that the earliest tamga on the Rashan Khad rock were produced with red ochre during the Neolithic age, with technologically progressive engraved images continuing the tradition continued up until the 10th century. The ownership marks based on these tamga are called maliin tamga – they are herd marks or signs (Perlee 1975).

In 1983 D. Tseveendorj’s work The Prehistoric Art of Mongolia included Paleolithic, Bronze Age, and Iron Age pictographs as well as petroglyphs (Tseveendorj 2004). There was direct dating of rock art in the 2015 fieldtrip –  between Archaeological Institute of the Academy of Sciences and Maine University (USA), and the Mongolian University of Science and Technology – and first conducted using the Varnish Micro Lamination method, sampled from eight different sites. (Tserendagva et al. 2015). Conclusion The major factor affecting the development of Mongolian rock art studies has been the involvement of foreign researchers, as well as the initiative of Mongolian individuals with professional commitment to rock art research. Furthermore, as expressed by international and local rock art researchers during the ‘Rock Art: History, Memory and Dialogue’ conference, there is a pressing need for inter-disciplinary comparative research and novel scientific methods of dating rock art.

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river basin). Institute of History and Archaeology, Mongolian Academy of Sciences. Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Radlov V.V. 1892. Atlas Drevnei Mongolii (Atlas of Ancient Mongolia). Saint Petersburg, Russia: Imperial Science of Academy Printing. Rashan Khad. 2016 Mongol-Orosiin sudlaach, uran buteelch bagsh nariin Khentii aimgiin Batshireet, Binder sumand hamtran hiisen heeriin sudalgaa (Mongolian-Russian researchers, artists and lecturers’ joint fieldtrip in Batshireet soum of Khentii aimag). School of Fine Art and Design, Mongolian State University of Arts and Culture, Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Sanjmyatav T. 1995. Mongoliin Khadnii Zurag (Rock Art of Mongolia). Institute of History and Archaeology, Mongolian Academy of Sciences. Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Ser-Odjav N. 1987. Bayn-Ligiin Khadnii Zurag (Rock art of Bayn Lig). Institute of History and Archaeology, Mongolian Academy of Sciences, Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Tserendagva Ya., R. Cortum, B. Jargalsaikhan. 2015. Khotkhon Nuuriin Khundiin Khadnii Zurgiin Sudalgaa Expeditsiin 2015 onii Kheeriin Shinjilgeenii Ajliin Tovch Ur Dun (Rock art research of Khotkhon Nuur basin: Summary of 2015 fieldwork expedition). Institute of History and Archaeology, Mongolian Academy of Sciences, Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Tserendagva Ya. And D. Tseveendorj. 2016. Dalan turgenii khos tolgoin khadnii zurag Rock art of Dalan Turgenii Khos Tolgoi. Institute of History and Archaeology, Mongolian Academy of Sciences. Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Tseveendorj D. 1999 Mongoliin Ertnii Urlagiin Tuuh (History of Mongolian Prehistoric Art History). Institute of History and Archaeology, Mongolian Academy of Sciences. Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Tseveendorj D., V.D. Kubarev and E. Jacobson-Tepfer. 2005. Aral Tolgoin Khadnii Zurag (Petroglyphs of Aral Tolgoi). Institute of History and Archaeology, Mongolian Academy of Sciences. Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Tseveendorj. D., L. Batchuluun and N. Batbold. 2004 Molor tolgoin khadnii zurag (Rock art of Molor tolgoi). Institute of History and Archaeology, Mongolian Academy of Sciences. Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. UNESCO. 2016. Rock Art: History, Memory and Dialogue. Report on International Conference under the Auspices of the President of Mongolia. Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Yadrintsev N. 1891 Sbornik Trudov Orkhonskii Expeditsii: Otchet i dnevnik o puteshestvii Po Orkhonu i Yujnii Khangai (Collection of Works of Orkhon Expedition: Report and Diary of Journey through Orkhon and Uvurkhangai). Institute of History and Archaeology, Mongolian Academy of Sciences. Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia.

References Ankhsanaa, G. 2017. Tsagaan Usnii Goliin Khadnii Zurag (Petroglyphs of Tsagaan Usnii Gol), Archaeological Study Vol. XXXVI. Institute of History and Archaeology, Mongolian Academy of Sciences. Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Ankhsanaa, G. 2018. Tuuh, Soyliin Ul Hudluh Dursgaliin burtgel sudalgaa (Historical and Cultural Tangible Heritage of Mongolia, Registration and Research). Center of Cultural Heritage of Mongolia, Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Batbold, N. 2014. Mongoliin Goviin Busiin Hadnii Zurgiin Sudalgaa (Research on Petroglyphs of the Mongolian Gobi). Institute of History and Archaeology, Mongolian Academy of Sciences. Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Devlet E.G. and M.A. Devlet. 2011. Sokrovisha naskalinogo iskusstva Severnoi n Tsentralinoi Azii. Moscow: IA RAN. Dorj, D. 2007. Erdem Shinjilgeenii Uguulel, Iltgeliin Emhetgel (Collection of Scientific Papers). Institute of History and Archaeology, Mongolian Academy of Sciences. Jacobson-Tepfer, E. 2012. Rock art research in Mongolia 2005–2009, in P. Bahn, N. Franklin and M. Strecker (eds), Rock Art Studies: News of the World IV: 164–195. Oxford: Oxbow. Jacobson-Tepfer, E. 2012. The image of the wheeled vehicle in the Mongolian Alta: Instability and Ambiguity. The Silk Road 10: 1–28. Jung Seogho et al. 2009. Mongoliin Baruun Hoid Aimgiin Khadnii Zurag (Petroglyphs from Northwestern Mongolia). Seoul: Northeast Asian History Foundation, and Mongolian Academy of Sciences, Institute of History and Archaeology, Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Habu, J., P.V. Lape, and J.W. Olsen. 2017. Handbook of East and Southeast Asian Archaeology. New York: Springer. Монголын Археологи. 2015. Institute of History and Archaeology, Mongolian Academy of Sciences. Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Perlee, Kh. 1975. Mongol tumnii garliig tamgaar haij sudlah n (Searching for Origins of Mongols through Tamga). Institute of History and Archaeology, Mongolian Academy of Sciences. Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Potanin G.N. 1883. Mongoliin Baruun Hoid Nutag (Northwestern Mongolia: Travel reports and letters from Mongolia between 1876-1877 published on behalf of the Imperial Geographic Society. SaintPetersburg Vol. 2. Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Purevjav E., B. Batmunkh, Kh. Byambasuren and Ch. Enkhtur. 2011. Khoid Senkheriin Goliin Sav Dahi Ertnii Dursgaluud (Ancient artefacts of Khoid Senkher

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Chapter 16

A history of rock art research in Russia Irina Ponomareva Abstract Russia is a vast country and rock art has been documented in many regions. The majority of Russian rock art is found in Siberia, the Russian Far East, and the Ural Mountains. This chapter reviews the historical development of rock art research in Russia, starting in the seventeenth century; it touches on significant discoveries, substantial contributions, and important breakthroughs. In this review, the narrative follows two major periods: the Russian Empire period, when the primary accumulation of knowledge occurred, and the Soviet/Russian period, which saw many important advances. Over the centuries, many people contributed to our rock art knowledge. This review focusses on key names, key rock art sites/areas, and some of the most important debates and discussions.

Introduction Rock art is found in many areas of Russia (Figure 16.1), and has been researched for 300 years. This chapter

reviews the historical development of the discipline and touches on significant discoveries, substantial contributions and important breakthroughs. The three-century history can be divided into two major periods: the Russian Empire period, when the accumulation of knowledge mostly occurred, and the Soviet/Russian period, when many important advances took place. The latter is divided further into nominal periods for the ease of narration and comprehension: the 1920s-1930s, the 1940s-1970s, the 1970s-1980s and the 1990s-2000s. Although some subperiods can be defined in the regions of Russia, it is difficult to clearly separate smaller intervals in the history of rock art research when considering them altogether, as attempted below, because some scholars’ careers crosscut defined subdivisions. However, the specific characteristic of the time periods will be addressed.

Figure 16.1. Key sites and geographic localities mentioned in the text. 1 – Besovy Sledki, Zalavruga; 2 – Kanozero; 3 – Kapova Cave (Shul’gan-Tash); 4 – Irbitskiy Pisanyi Kamen’; 5 – Tom’ rock art site; 6 – Boyarskaya Pisanitsa; 7 – Sagan-Zaba, Aya Bays; 8 – Shishkino; 9 – Sheremetyevo; 10 – Sikachi-Alyan; 11 – Pegtymel’.

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Figure 16.2. Tom’ rock art site. Photo I. Ponomareva.

in the Yenisey Basin. Rock art sites were not only visited and briefly described, but drawings were also made. During the expedition, other important discoveries and re-discoveries were made such as the Tom rock art site on the Tom River (now in Kemerovskaya Oblast) which was surveyed and redrawn, and petroglyphs of the Angara River (near the village Klimovaya, Irkutskaya Oblast) which were described in detail (Martynov 1968; Okladnikov 1959, 1966; Okladnikov and Martynov 1972).

The Russian Empire period The first historical mention rock art was anonymous and has been dated to 1630; it concerned the Tom rock art site (Figure 16.2) in West Siberia (Kovtun 2011). Later, this rock art site was mentioned again in the road diary of Russian diplomat Nikolai Spathari, who was sent to China as an ambassador in 1675. In 1699, the depictions of another site, Irbitskiy Pisanyi Kamen in the Ural Mountains, were copied by Yakov Losev. A few years later, this rock art was drawn by well-known Russian cartographer Semyon Remezov and in 1705 by N. K. Vitsen. The paintings of the Irbit and Vishera Rivers in the Ural Mountains region were later published in Strahlenberg’s Russia, Siberia, and Great Tartary in 1730 (Dubrovskiy and Grachyov 2010).

The next milestone in the archaeological investigation of Siberia was the survey undertaken by the academic component of the Great Northern Expedition (1733-1743). The road diaries of the leader of the academic group, Gerhard Friedrich Müller, contained information about the Tom rock art site and another redrawing of its art. Müller also continued studying the Orkhon-Yenisey script discovered by Messerschmidt, and burial mounds in the Middle Yenisey Basin. The aforementioned Angara petroglyphs were also visited by another expedition participant, Johann Georg Gmelin, who also described a rock art site on the Biryusa River, a tributary of the Yenisey River. Another significant outcome of the expedition was that the Shishkino rock art site was discovered and documented (Figure 16.3). Müller also mentioned some rock art sites

While travelling across Siberia, Spathari saw some ‘writings’ and pictures of people with weapons on a coastal cliff of the Yenisey River (see Zaika 2013). Yenisey rock art was later studied by Daniel Gottlieb Messerschmidt – the first naturalist who made a scientific survey of Siberia in 1720-1728. The result of Messerschmidt’s expedition was that more information about Yenisey rock art was collected and, moreover, Messerschmidt discovered the Orkhon-Yenisey script 161

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Figure 16.3. Shishkino rock art site. Photo I. Ponomareva.

at the Temnik and Dzhida Rivers, the tributaries of the Selenga River in the Trans-Baikal region, although they were not visited then, and the rock art of the Irbit River in the Ural region (Dubrovskiy and Grachyov 2010; Okladnikov 1959, 1966; Okladnikov and Zaporozhskaya 1969; Radlov 1894; Sher 1980).

times – this idea was further developed by Rommel. However, in the 1850s, after the petroglyphs of Onega Lake had been discovered by Grewingk in 1848, Spassky compared them with those in Siberia and inferred their similarity. Another Spassky idea that rock pictures served a commemorative function was criticised by Abel-Rémusat, who did not regard rock art as worthy of attention. Spassky also questioned the age of the rock art and suggested that it was produced by the Huns because they occupied a large part of Eurasia, and this could explain the similarities between such distant sites (Kononchuk 2013). Thus, as early as in the first half of the nineteenth century an attempt was made to relate rock art with past ethnic groups and to understand the role which rock art played in past societies.

As follows from the review above, the rock art of Siberia and Ural became known to the public much earlier than the rock art of the European part of the country, and this tendency continued in the development of research in the nineteenth century. At the time, the first attempt to synthesise collected data on Siberian rock art and to interpret it in a broader archaeological and historical context was undertaken by Grigory Spassky. Similar to many early rock art researchers he considered rock art as a kind of prehistoric writing. This synthesis was translated into Latin, published, and sent out to prominent researchers of that time including JeanPierre Abel-Rémusat, Dietrich Christoph von Rommel and Alexander von Humboldt; they answered with critical reviews and expressed their views (Spassky 1822). Spassky saw similarities between Siberian depictions and American ones published by Humboldt and suggested that Siberia and America were populated by a single people who produced this art in prehistoric

In the 1840s, Finnish ethnologist and philologist Matthias Castrén undertook an expedition in Siberia in search of Finnish origins. His main focus was on linguistic and ethnographic research, although he also attempted archaeological surveys and excavations. Along with archaeological observations Castrén also mentioned some rock art sites in the Yenisey Basin and Trans-Baikal. Generally, Castrén was not very interested in rock art and understanding it because he did not believe it was of Finnish origin. In a few places 162

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he suggested who might have produced the rock art (for instance, Yenisey petroglyphs executed by the Kyrgyz (Castrén 1999)), but in total he devoted only a few paragraphs on rock art.

twentieth century looked awkward compared to those made by Alexander Adrianov (Devlet 1989). Alexander Adrianov was an outstanding student of Siberian antiquities. He is highly appreciated for his accurate methods of excavation and especially of recording rock art. While Savenkov published his free hand drawings, Adrianov had already applied photography, a method of stamping for copying petroglyphs and the use of plotting paper to accurately draw paintings. Adrianov’s exact copies are now valuable sources for studying Siberian rock art because many rock art surfaces have been destroyed since then (Devlet 2004). Adrianov gathered an enormous amount of data but, unfortunately, he could not accomplish its analysis and publish the results. In 1920 he was executed by firing squad, and during many decades his name was forbidden to be mentioned.

Another attempt to synthesise knowledge about Siberian rock art and provide interpretations was made by local historian Nikolai Popov (Popov 1872, 1873, 1875, 1876), although he focused on the known rock art sites of the Minusinsk Basin. Popov was influenced by the works of Edward Tylor and considered Siberian rock art as the evolution of writing systems. The first stage was named ‘figurative writing’ which included depictions of animals, humans, weapons and battle scenes. The next stage was symbolic, or hieroglyphic writing, and here Popov included symbolic signs which, for instance, could refer to ownership, such as tamga1. Finally, the third stage was literal writing, known as runic inscriptions, which had been discovered by Messerschmidt. However, Popov did not believe that all three stages were consecutive. Thus, he thought that painted rock art could not be of great age, and, therefore painted ‘figurative writing’ was more recent than incised runic inscriptions. Popov concluded that a more advanced civilization previously existed in South Siberia. Concerning ‘figurative writing’, Popov attempted to interpret some scenes and depictions based on available ethnographic data, for instance, about bear worship and shamanic rituals, although he treated the data quiet loosely when applying it to rock art. In the 1880s, the investigation of Yenisey rock art was continued by Ivan Savenkov who was a pioneer in studying the Stone Age of Siberia. Savenkov (1886) expressed some novel ideas on the rock art, for instance, he suggested that some figures of animals, where an ancient artist meticulously depicted an anatomic detail such as the upper lip of elk, could be dated to the Stone Age. This was based on the recent finding of horn figurines from the burial of Bazaikha, dated to the Stone Age, where no metal artefacts had been found. Savenkov also suggested that pictures and petroglyphs on a rock surface could have been executed during different periods of time, and the analysis of superimpositions could give a clue for their chronology. Arguing with Popov, Savenkov believed that ‘figurative writings’ were the beginning of art rather than writing, and some rock art pictures were related to an animistic worldview. Savenkov was the first to publish a monograph fully devoted to Siberian rock art (Savenkov 1910), although ideas expressed appeared to be rather naïve in a light of archaeological achievements of that time, and the illustrations were inaccurate drawings made 25 years before which in the beginning of the

Extensive archaeological investigation of the Yenisey River, which led to numerous discoveries, also influenced the growth of interest in the prehistoric sites, including rock art sites in other regions of Russia. In the second half of the nineteenth century and the early twentieth century, newly discovered rock art sites were reported in the Angara River Basin and at Baikal Lake (Agapitov 1881; Okladnikov 1966; Petri 1914, 1916, 1922; Witkowsky 1889); in the Trans-Baikal (Davydov 1856; Kirillov 1897; see Tsybiktarov 2011), Yakutia (see Kochmar 1994; Okladnikov and Zaporozhskaya, 1972) and the Russian Far East (see Okladnikov 1971). In 1894, the rock art site on the rock Kyllakh on the Maya River were visited by Yakov Stefanovich, a participant of the Ayanskaya expedition aiming to examine the Ayan post road. Stefanovich found the images similar to those found in the Minusinsk Basin and published by Popov. Discussing the kind of paint applied to the rocks, he mentioned that in 1867 the analysis of the paint from the Oka River rock art sites showed that it was made from iron oxide and lime (Stefanovich 1896: 64-65). The first detailed publication of Yakutian rock art was made by Nikolai Vitashevsky (1897) who visited, thoroughly described and accurately redrew two sites on the Olyokma River: Krestyakh and Basynay. Vitashevsky did not attempt to interpret or analyse the rock art but reported the Tungus’ beliefs that the pictures were made by the mountain spirit Khaya Ichchite2. The Tungus also believed that some images had appeared while others had disappeared from the rocks, and the spirit was responsible for that. The first publication with drawings of Amur petroglyphs was released in 1894; it was the Sheremetyevo rock art site, which was first visited in 1859 by Richard Maack, a student of Siberia. Information about the Sheremetyevo petroglyphs also appeared in the Siberian press in 1860,

1 

2 

A tamga is an abstract emblem of a tribe, clan or family used by Eurasian nomadic peoples.

Although Vitashevsky reported information given him by the Tungus, Khaya Ichchite is Yakutian name of the mountain spirit.

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Figure 16.4. Sikachi-Alyan. Photo I. Ponomareva.

and in 1894 a lieutenant colonel of the General Staff, N. Alftan, inspected the site and made drawings of the petroglyphs. The following year, in 1895, another major rock art site, the Sikachi-Alyan, was reported in a local newspaper, the ‘Priamurskiye Vedomosti’ (Figure 16.4).

them, he heard the same story about three suns from a local guide. In addition, Sternberg reported another legend related to the origin of rock art, this being that the pictures belonged to a legendary people, Kha. Locals believed that they had found remains of their cultures. Sternberg also noted that the Sikachi-Alyan petroglyphs were quite different from those found in Siberia (see Okladnikov 1971: 10-11).

The report’s author, P. Vetlitsyn, provided a detailed description of the petroglyphs and, moreover, a Nanai legend explaining their origin: ‘once upon a time there were three suns in the sky, and stones were so soft, that pictures could be easily made with fingers’ (Okladnikov 1971: 5-7). This legend appeared in more detail in Berthold Laufer’s article (1899) on the SikachiAlyan petroglyphs which he visited, and made accurate drawings of, during his participation in the Jesup North Pacific expedition (1898-1899). In 1906, a location with petroglyphs near the village of Sofiisk was reported by Gerard Fowke (1906: 290), who carried out research in the Lower Amur Basin in 1898 for the American Museum of Natural History of New York. Then, in 1908, the Sikachi-Alyan rock art site was visited by explorer Vladimir Arsenyev, in 1910 by ethnographer Lev Sternberg and in 1919 by Japanese anthropologist Torii Ryuzo. Sternberg stated that he could not miss visiting the Amur petroglyphs because of intense rock art studies elsewhere in Siberia, and while visiting

In contrast to advances in rock art research in Ural, Siberia and the Far East, the European part of Russia had not attracted as much attention. As mentioned above, the petroglyphs of Onega Lake were discovered in 1848 (Grewingk 1855; Shved 1850). However, no study followed until the early twentieth century. In 1910 and 1914, Professor Hallstrom of the Stockholm University studied the Onega petroglyphs (Lobanova 2014). 412 petroglyphs were photographed and copied during two field seasons. The First World War stopped further research led by foreign scholars. It may be concluded, that by the first decades of the twentieth century, a huge amount of data on Siberian and Ural rock art was collected, became known to the wider public and even attracted international interest. All the major rock art areas of Russia were touched by 164

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investigations in some way since the beginning of the eighteenth century; however, the degree of knowledge differed from region to region. Interestingly, rock art research in the Asian part of Russia advanced earlier and more intensely than in the European part of the country. Importantly, as early as the nineteenth century, some of the key issues of rock art studies, such as age and authorship, had already been established and then challenged. In Siberia, explorers also collected legends and stories related to the rock art, thus attempting to uncover the meaning of images.

approaches to interpreting rock art, either from rational or mythological points of view. This debate was not confined to only Siberian rock art research; it continued in the seminal works devoted to the Onega petroglyphs. In the late 1920s and early 1930s, A. M. Linevskiy undertook survey and documentation of the petroglyphs. He also discovered the site Besovy Sledki on the coast of the White Sea (Linevskiy: 1929). Later another researcher V. I. Ravdonikas conducted field research of the Onega petroglyphs and presented his interpretation of this art (Ravdonikas: 1936). Another contribution was made by A. Ya. Bryusov (1940) who also studied settlement sites in the vicinities of the Onega petroglyphs.

Soviet/Russian period In this period, a major acceleration of rock art studies occurred which resulted in the documentation of hundreds of rock art sites, advancements in recording techniques, the defining of basic rock art provinces, the elaboration of chronologies, and the emergence of scientific schools which continue research today.

The 1920-1930s are characterised by a local history movement which intensified archaeological investigations all over Soviet Russia. This time was marked by a gradual replacement of the older generation of amateur archaeologists by professionally trained archaeologists and ethnographers. However, in the pre-World War II period, some previously stated concepts continued to be developed which led to the accomplishment of regional archaeological periodizations, which in turn helped later to refine rock art chronologies. New research issues, such as the origins of Siberian peoples and their ethnogenesis, were also declared. All of this led to large-scale expeditions and monographs, mostly after World War II. Such intensification also included advancements in the study of rock art which was mainly regarded as an additional source for learning about the past and past religious beliefs (Matyushhenko 1999: 12).

Linevskiy interpreted the Onega petroglyphs using the concept of hunting magic in reference to the ethnography of peoples of the Russian North. For instance, he noticed a large amount of wounded animals in the rock art of the White Sea inferring that the hunt was performed with darts, while at Onega lake, people hunted using traps – that is how he interpreted well-known enigmatic figures which depicted circles with two ‘antennas’. Linevskiy attempted to draw a picture of the ancient lifeways relating them to animistic religious worldviews. Thus, art practice was a part of ritual activities. On the other side, Ravdonikas interpreted the ‘traps’ as solar and lunar symbols. In his concept, the rock art demonstrated the practice of a cosmic cult, a cult of the dead and a cult of the ancestors. Present-day researchers criticise both interpretations as ungrounded (Lobanova: 2014); at the time, however, these works significantly contributed to rock art research and attracted widespread interest. Moreover, these two researchers are early examples of two main interpretational frameworks which can be traced in later research; Linevskiy’s can be labelled as a ritual approach, while the one offered by Ravdonikas can be named as mythic (he referred to mythologies to interpret rock art).

In the Yenisey Basin, in the 1920s, many rock art sites were recorded by Sergey Kiselyov, who focused on excavations of burial mounds but believed that depictions on fence slabs were important for establishing a chronology of Minusinsk rock art (Kiselyov: 1930). In the early 1930s, Mikhail Gryaznov studied the famous rock art site Boyaskaya Pisanitsa which contained unique depictions of the Tagar culture village (1st Millennium BC) (Gryaznov, 1933). His view that the rock art sites were of religious value was debated by Kiselyov who considered the depictions as the illustration of mundane life (Kiselyov, 1933). According to Savinov (2003), this dispute was one of the earliest academic discussions marking two basic

In the 1920s-1930s rock art discoveries continued in Ural and Siberia, and more sites were reported, especially from East and South Siberia, although, in this transitional historical period, investigations were not very intense. However, some brief reviews of East Siberian rock art and attempts to analyse it on a higher level appeared. It became clear that rock art demanded thorough scientific study, comprehensive documentation and synthesis with chronological attribution and interpretation. These issues were faced by a new generation of professional Soviet archaeologists. This is the period when several prominent figures in the Soviet academia started their rock art research, such as V. Chernetsov in the Ural

The 1920s-1930s

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Irina Ponomareva Mountains region and Alexey Okladnikov in Siberia, but their seminal publications came out in the next period.

Okladnikov significantly advanced rock art research by bringing it into a prominent position within the broader field of archaeology and by providing the first reliable chronology of Siberian rock art which was originally developed based on the materials of the Shishkino rock art site (Okladnikov and Zaporozhskaya 1959). He then applied this chronological framework to other rock art provinces (Okladnikov 1966; Okladnikov and Martynov 1972; Okladnikov and Zaporozhskaya 1972). Okladnikov was the first Soviet archaeologist who used analogous depictions on artefacts from archaeological contexts to date rock images (Okladnikov 1952). Although, some of his presumptions and conclusions were contested (Formozov 1967; Mel’nikova, Nikolaev, and Dem’janovich 2011), in general, Okladnikov’s chronological scheme is still relevant. Within the framework of Marxist theory, which of course was predominant in Soviet humanities at the time, Okladnikov also collected all available ethnographic data to uncover the meaning of prehistoric pictures.

The 1940s-1970s In this period, rock art studies further accelerated, and the collection of great amounts of new data was related to the works of major archaeological expeditions which took place in the areas of future Hydroelectric Power Stations on the Yenisey and Angara Rivers. In Siberia, all the major expeditions were led by Okladnikov who paid a lot of attention to rock art recording and made a major contribution to Siberian rock art studies. These big expeditions, with their great resources, allowed not only the collection of data but also the education of a new generation of rock art researchers, and some of them are continuing their research today. Okladnikov’s archaeological career started in the 1920s when he explored Neolithic burial grounds of the Lena and Angara Rivers. Later his scientific interest included the whole of Siberia, Far East and Central Asia in all periods of human history. In 1929, Okladnikov re-discovered the Shishkino rock art site where he identified three depictions of horses and a bull attributing them to the Palaeolithic Age (Okladnikov: 1949). In the 1940s, Okladnikov explored the basin of the Lena River from the source to the mouth which resulted in a fundamental work on the prehistory of Yakutia, although the rock art materials were not completely published until 20 years later (Okladnikov: 1977; Okladnikov and Zaporozhskaya: 1972). In 1935, Okladnikov accomplished his first survey of the Amur River, although Amur petroglyphs were studied indepth later – in 1958, 1963, 1968 and 1969 (Okladnikov 1971). In 1947-1958 the systematic research of TransBaikal rock art was conducted by the Buryat-Mongol archaeological expedition which was led by Okladnikov (Okladnikov and Zaporozhskaya 1969, 1970). He also recorded rock art sites of the Angara River in 1934-1937 and in 1951-1959 (Okladnikov 1966). In 1968, 1971 and in 1973-1974, Okladnikov examined rock art sites on the Baikal Lake in the Sagan-Zaba and Aya Bays (Okladnikov 1974). Okladnikov also led expeditions in Mongolia and Altai where rock art recording was undertaken along with archaeological research. His explorations were so vast and intense that they unfortunately cannot be described in detail in this chapter. Through his concern for future generations of archaeologists, Okladnikov sought to publish as much data as he could. The result of his rock art research was more than 20 monographs containing an enormous number of tables with drawings. Okladnikov also wrote a popular-science book on rock art ‘The deer with golden antlers’ which inspired many young archaeologists (Okladnikov 1964).

In the Yenisey Basin, the acceleration of rock art studies was related to the construction of the Krasnoyarsk and Sayan-Shushensk Hydroelectric Power Stations. In 1963-1970, Yakov Sher led the Kamensky party of the Krasnoyarsk archaeological expedition of the Leningrad branch of the Institute of Archaeology which focused specifically on recording rock art sites. The result was Sher’s influential synthesis on Central Asia rock art (Sher 1980) which became a handbook for the next generation of rock art researchers. Since 1965, the Sayan-Tuvinian archaeological expedition, under the leadership of A. Grach, worked in the Sayan canyon of the Yenisey River, and many prominent Soviet rock art researchers were involved, such as M. Devlet, M. Khlobystina, V. Levashova, A. Lipsky, E. Rygdylon (Sovetova 1997). In the 1960s-1980s, Dmitry Savinov conducted field research in Siberia, and he has covered a broad spectrum of problems from the Bronze Age to the Middle Ages of Eurasia (for a bibliography, see Savinov 2011). Ural Mountains rock art continued to be studied which resulted in two-volume monograph (Chernetsov 1964, 1971). In 1959, the famous Paleolithic paintings of the Kapova Cave (Shul’gan-Tash) were discovered by A. Ryumin, and in 1960 the expedition of Institute of Archaeology of the Academy of Sciences of USSR started a long-term research of the cave (Bader 1965). In the 1960s, another period started in the research of the rock art of the Russian North-West. New sites were discovered at the White Sea by Savvateev (1970) who later continued the study of the Onega petroglyphs. His monograph on the petroglyphs of the White Sea was an important event in Russian rock art research.

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In the 1960s, other important discoveries occurred due to the intensification of archaeological fieldwork in USSR. N. Dikov discovered and examined rock art sites in the Pegtymel’ River Basin of Chukotka Peninsula. This unique site is located in the Arctic Circle (Dikov 1971). Fascinating rock art sites were also documented in Dagestan, Northern Caucasus (Kotovich 1976).

Francfort, Sher published a corpus of collected materials on Yenisey and Altai rock art (Blednova, Francfort, and Cher 1995; Cher, Blednova, Legchilo and Smirnov 1994; Francfort, Jacobson, Kubarev, and Cher 1996). Sher was an initiator of the Siberian Association of Prehistoric Art Researchers (SAPAR) which was founded in 1997 and since then, has organised a number of conferences on rock art. He has also published A Bulletin of SAPAR, and Occasional publications of SAPAR.

The 1960s and 1970s witnessed many seminal publications on rock art; these induced a heated discussion on rock art in the Soviet Ethnography journal initiated by A. Formozov (1967, 1969). Initially he criticised Okladnikov’s chronological attribution of rock art presented in two published works (Okladnikov 1966; Okladnikov and Zaporozhskaya 1959). He expressed concerns about the Paleolithic age of some depictions of the Shishkino rock art site and suggested that more grounded argumentation was required when inferring the age of rock art. Okladnikov did not answer the critique himself, but papers by other researchers were published (Chernetsov 1969; Martynov 1971; see also Molodin 2009; Savvateev 1969). These papers defended Okladnikov’s approach while also expressing views and suggestions on problematic issues in rock art research such as chronology, interpretations, methods of standard descriptions and comparisons.

The Kemerovo researchers have been focusing on such problems as the chronology of rock art and the improvement of recording techniques. The first issue has been resolved through the relation of depictions found on rocks with those on slabs and steles uncovered from burial mounds. Such correlations allowed researchers to elaborate the sequence of rock art traditions of the Minusinsk Basin (Kovaleva 2011; Sher 1980; Sovetova and Miklashevich 1999). The improvement of recording techniques has been achieved through many important experiments with different materials by Pyatkin’s expedition (Sovetova 2014). Another scientific school of rock art research was founded by Okladnikov (Sher 1980). His exploration was continued by his students, one of whom was Alexander Mazin, who in the 1970s-1980s recorded many rock art sites in Eastern Trans-Baikal, South Yakutia and in the Upper Amur Basin. Mazin paid a lot of attention to the excavations under rock art panels aiming to relate the pictures with datable cultural remains and to investigate the religious role of the sites (Mazin 1986, 1994; Okladnikov and Mazin 1976, 1979). The study of Trans-Baikal rock art was continued in the 1970s by Alexey Tivanenko. He made some valuable observations on the methods for the searching of new sites: he stated that all ancient rock art sites coincided with modern sacred places of the Buryat and the Evenk, and pointed out the long tradition of worshipping at these places (Tivanenko 1989, 1990). In Yakutia studies were continued by Nikolai Kochmar, who was not a student of Okladnikov, but his research developed in the direction established by him. Kochmar started his works in 1977 and during the 1970-1990s he led research on the Olyokma, Lena, Amga, Indigirka, Aldan, Chara, Buotuma, Tyaka and Tokko Rivers. Kochmar’s monograph on the rock art of Yakutia is the fullest summary of the information on Yakutian rock art today (Kochmar 1994).

The 1970s-1980s In many regions in these decades research begun earlier continued with new discoveries and publications, while in others (e.g. South Siberia), a new period in rock art research started. According to Sovetova (1997), in the 1970s this was due to the acceleration of field investigations, the development of diverse approaches in rock art studies, and the salience of the problem of rock art preservation. The same applies to East Siberia where a new generation of archaeologists appeared. Another feature of this time was that several scientific schools in rock art studies emerged. The Kemerovo school of rock art researchers started to form in the 1970s, with the involvement of Boris Pyatkin and the Department of Archaeology of Kemerovo State University in 1976. Since then and up to 1995, he led the Petroglyphic party of the South-Siberian archaeological expedition which studied such outstanding rock art sites as Shalabolino, Ogklakhty, Sukhanikha, Bychikha and Tepsey (Sovetova 2014), although only Shalabolino materials were originally published (Pyatkin and Martynov 1985). Under his supervision, researchers Olga Sovetova and Elena Miklashevich, who are currently among the leading Siberian rock art scholars, were trained. In 1985, Sher joined the Department and for ten years led field surveys in the Yenisey Basin as well as in the Republics of Tuva and Kirgizia. In cooperation with French colleagues, specifically with Henri-Paul

In this period in the Ural Mountains region, the studies of the Kapova Cave continued, although the problem of the preservation of this unique site came to prominence since it attracted many tourists. In 1971, unorganised tourist visitation was officially banned. O. Bader continued studying the cave until he passed away in 1979, and in 1982 the research of the cave 167

Irina Ponomareva was resumed by V. Ye. Shchelinskiy who discovered a cultural layer deep in the cave with fragments of a wall featuring parts of paintings. In 1980, Paleolithic paintings were also discovered in Ignatievka Cave in the Ural Mountains region by V. Petrin (Dubrovskiy and Grachyov 2010).

As pointed out above, in East Siberia mainstream rock art research considered rock art sites as default ancient sanctuaries –  this stems in part from the common practice of carrying out archaeological excavations at rock art sites. This interpretational framework still dominates the current East Siberian rock art research (e.g., Tashak and Antonova 2019). Another ‘traditional’ approach developed by early rock art researchers which interprets rock art scenes with a reference to Siberian mythical stories is also still present (Devlet and Devlet 2005). However, novel theoretical frameworks have also been applied. Between 2000 and 2003, some rock art sites along the Lena and the Olenyok Rivers were investigated by a Polish-Yakut archaeologicalethnological team, particularly from the perspective of their relations to shamanism (Rozwadowski 2014, 2017). Many Siberian researchers noted the connection between ancient rock art and contemporary cult practices expressed in worshipping rock art sites and leaving offerings, but the question of the modern use of rock art has largely remained unexplored (although see Rozwadowski and Hampson 2021). However, recent research on contemporary rituality and materiality of the Evenki in relation to rock art from an ethnographer’s perspective opens a new avenue in Siberian rock art research (Brandišauskas 2020).

Research also continued in the Russian North-West. In 1972-1980, Savvateev studied the Onega petroglyphs and discovered many new sites; he also developed recording methods and the chronological framework by studying settlement sites in the area (Lobanova 2014). In the 1980s-1990s, the Onega petroglyphs attracted the attention of Estonian amateurs (Poikalainen and Ernits 1998) who discovered new sites in the Kochkovnavolok Peninsula and published a detailed catalogue of the rock art, which also included a review of previous research, discussions of chronology, cultural attribution and meaning. In 1973, V.Ya. Shumkin and N. Gurina discovered petroglyphs at the Ponoy River in central Kola Peninsula. In 1985, the Kola expedition of the Institute of the History of Material Culture (Leningrad) discovered petroglyphs at the Pyayva River; in 1986 petroglyphs at the Mayka River; and in 1997 petroglyphs at the Kanozero Lake (Kolpakov and Shumkin 2019). The 1990-2000s

Global technological advances did not bypass Siberian researchers, and 3D methods are becoming a necessary part of rock art recording and analysis (e.g., Devlet, Laskin, Pakhunov, Romanenko and Svoyski 2018; Simukhin, Marnuev, Namsaraev and Lbova 2018). Another important advance is that technological and traceological3 aspects of petroglyphs are currently developing, bringing light to the understanding of the production stages and relative chronology of rock art (Zotkina and Kovalev 2019).

By this time, most major discoveries had been already made, and a new generation of researchers continued to fill the gaps on the archaeological map of Siberia and started the process of re-examination and redocumentation of rock art sites. In the late 1980s-1990s, Alexandr Zaika studied the rock art sites of the Lower Angara River (Zaika 2013). In 2001, Zaika focused on the re-documentation of the Shalabolino rock art site where many new panels had been discovered (e.g., Zaika and Drozdov 2008). In 1987, a revision of rock art sites of the Upper Lena River was started with an invitation to Lyudmila Mel’nikova to reexamine the Shishkino rock art site. Later she engaged archaeologist Vadim Nikolaev and geomorphologist N. Dem’janovich in the project which has been conducted for nearly 20 years. Their conclusions about the rock destruction process allowed to clarify the chronological sequence for rock art (Mel’nikova et al. 2011; Mel’nikova, Nikolaev and Dem’janovich 2012). One of the important figures of rock art research in Russia, Ekaterina Devlet, undertook re-examination of the Pegtymel’ petroglyphs in Chukotka and the petroglyphs of the Lower Amur River Basin (Devlet and Laskin 2014). However, in the late 1980s-2000s, new rock art sites were also reported from various parts of Russia, such as the Western Coast of Lake Baikal (Novikov and Goriunova 2014), TransBaikal (Konstantinov, Ekimova and Vereshhagin 2008), and Yakutia (Dyakonov and Alekseyev 2013).

Therefore, in the last decades, many new rock art sites have been reported, although most major discoveries had been made previously. In this period, the process of revision and re-documentation of rock art sites occurred, which brought new findings. However, with the demise of the Soviet Union, the epoch of large expeditions and big projects ended. A number of explanatory frameworks are present today, but the ‘traditional’ ones which approach rock art sites as ancient sanctuaries and rock art pictures as illustrations of mythical stories still dominate rock art research in Russia.

3  Traceology in rock art aims to identify tools which were used to produce petroglyphs by carefully looking at the traces left on rock art surfaces.

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though many publications are now available in English, and travel is not as restricted as it was in the USSR, rock art research in Russia continues to be conducted mostly by Russian researchers and published in Russian. This has significant consequences in that Russian rock art research has had its own agendas which often do not follow internationally fashionable theoretical and interpretational tendencies. Similarly, some Russian achievements remain largely unknown to international audiences. This chapter has attempted to fill this gap and to narrate the rich story of rock art research in Russia.

Conclusion To sum up, the history of rock art studies in Russia started back in 1630. In the eighteenth century, the knowledge of rock art expanded due to the initial explorers of Siberia, and in the nineteenth century, rock art appeared in the focus of scientific enquiries. In the first half of the nineteenth century, Spassky first attempted to answer the questions ‘when was rock art made?’ and ‘who produced it?’. In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, several concepts of rock art development were suggested, such as Popov’s evolution of writing systems and Savenkov’s notion of a Stone Age time-depth for some images. By the end of the Russian Empire period, a considerable amount of rock art data was collected from all major rock art areas.

Editors’ note This article was written and finalized before the RussiaUkranie crisis 2022. References

In the Soviet Union, rock art studies were accelerated by a new generation of professional archaeologists who conducted extensive archaeological explorations and led large archaeological expeditions. These resulted in the improvements of survey methods, the establishment of chronological sequences, cultural attribution, the delineation of rock art provinces and the emergence of regional schools in rock art research. In the 1920s-1930s, the problem of academic study of rock art became salient, and the development of regional archaeological periodizations created the basis to begin to answer important questions. In the 1930s-1970s, the main rock art provinces of Russia were investigated (resulting in a number of monographs) and the first academic debates on the problematic issues of rock art research initiated. The monographs explored the problems of chronology, cultural attribution and the meaning of rock art. The period of the 1970s-1980s was characterised by the emergence of regional schools devoted to rock art studies. Finally, the late 1980s-2000s were marked by the initiation and the accomplishment of the revision and the re-documentation of rock art sites which has been carried out with the application of new methods and techniques.

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Irina Ponomareva yesterday and today]. Gumanitarnye nauki vchera i segodnya 3: 93–99. Sovetova, O.S. 2014. History of formation of Kemerovo scientific school of primitive art researchers. Bulletin of Kemerovo State University 2 (3): 45–48. Sovetova, O.S. and E.A. Miklashevich 1999. Khronologicheskiye i stilisticheskiye osobennosti sredneyeniseiskikh petroglifov [Chronological and stylistic characteristics of the Middle Yenisei petroglyphs], in Kemerovo State University (ed.), Arkheologiya, etnografi ya i muzeinoe delo: 47–74. Kemerovo: Kem. Gos. Univ. Spassky, G. 1822. De antiquis quibusdam sculpturis et insciptionibus in Siberia repertis. Petropoli. Stefanovich, Y.V. 1896. Ot Yakutska do Ayana. Putevye nablyudeniya (Ayanskaja ekspeditsiya 1894 g.) [From Yakutsk to Ayan. Road observations (Ayan expedition of 1894)]. Zapiski Vostochno-Sibirskogo otdela IRGO po obshhey geografii II (3): 1–181. Tashak, V.I. and Y.E. Antonova 2019. Ancient ‘sanctuaries’ of West Transbaikalia, Siberia. Rock Art Research: The Journal of the Australian Rock Art Research Association (AURA) 36 (1): 94–107. Tivanenko, A.V. 1989. Drevnie svyatilishha Vostochnoy Sibiri v epokhu kamnya i bronzy [Ancient sanctuaries of Eastern Siberia in the Stone and Bronze Ages]. Novosibirsk: Nauka. Tivanenko, A.V. 1990. Drevnee naskal’noe iskusstvo Buryatii [Ancient rock art of Buryatia]. Novosibirsk: Nauka. Tsybiktarov, V.A. 2011. Petroglyphs of Transbaikalia (V. I. Molodin Ed.). Ulan-Ude: Izdatel’stvo Buryatskogo gosuniversiteta. Vitashevsky, N.A. 1897. Izobrazheniya na skalakh po reke Olyokme [Depictions on rocks on the Olyokma River]. Izvestiya Vostochno-Sibirskogo otdela IRGO XXVIII (3/4): 280–288. Witkowsky, N.I. 1889. Sledy kamennogo veka v doline r. Angary (Vestiges of the Stone Age in the Angara River Basin). Izvestiya Vostochno-Sibirskogo Otdela IRGO XX (1): 1–43. Zaika, A.L. 2013. Lichiny Nizhnei Angary [Face depictions on rocks of the Angara River]. Krasnoyarsk: KGPU. Zaika, A.L. and N.I. Drozdov 2008. New petroglyphs of the Shalabolino rock art site, in A.P. Okladnikova, B.B. Piotrovskogo and B.A. Rybakova (eds), Trudy II (XVIII) Vserossiyskogo arkheologicheskogo syezda v Suzdale, posvyashhennogo 100-letiyu so dnya rozhdeniya akademikov: v 3k-h tomakh (Vol. 3): 28–30. Moscow: IA RAN. Zotkina, L.V. and V.S. Kovalev 2019. Lithic or metal tools: Techno-traceological and 3D analysis of rock art. Digital Applications in Archaeology and Cultural Heritage 13, e00099. doi:https://doi.org/10.1016/j. daach.2019.e00099

Radlov, V.V. 1894. Sibirskiye drevnosti [Siberian antiquities] (Vol. 1). Saint-Petersburg: Tipografiya Imperatorskoy Akademii nauk. Ravdonikas, V.I. 1936. K izucheniyu naskal’nykh izobrazheniy Onezhskogo ozera i Belogo morya [On the studying the rock art of Onega lake and the White Sea]. Soviet Archaeology 1: 9–50. Rozwadowski, A. 2014. In search of shamanic themes in Eastern Siberian rock art (Sakha/Yakutia Republic). Shaman 22 (1/2): 97–118. Rozwadowski, A. 2017. Rocks, cracks and drums: In search of ancient shamanism in Siberia and Central Asia. Budapest: Molnar & Kelemen Oriental Publishers. Rozwadowski, A. and J. Hampson 2021. Visual Culture, Heritage and Identity: Using Rock Art to Reconnect Past and Present. Oxford: Archaeopress. Savenkov, I.T. 1886. K razvedochnym materialam po arkheologii srednego techeniya Yeniseya [Archaeological survey of the Middle Yenisey River]. Izvestiya Vostochno-Sibirskogo otdela IRGO 17 (3/4): 26–105. Savenkov, I.T. 1910. O drevnikh pamyatnikakh izobrazitel’nogo iskusstva na Yeniseye [On the ancient art sites on the Yenisey River] (Vol. 1). Moscow. Savinov, D.G. 2003. K interpretatsii izobrazheniy Boyarskikh pisanits [On the interpretation of the Boyary rock art sites]. in A.I.Martynova (ed.), Arkheologiya Yuzhnoy Sibiri. Sb.nauch. tr., posvjashh. 70-letiyu so dnya rozhd: 100–105. Novosibirsk: Izdatel’stvo IAET SO RAN. Savinov, D.G. 2011. Tematicheskiy spisok nauchnykh rabot professora Dmitriya Glebovicha Savinova. K 70-letiyu so dnya rozhdeniya [Thematic list of scientific publications of professor Dmitry Glebovich Savinov. On the 70th anniversary]. Saint-Petersburg: Eleksis. Savvateev, Y.A. 1969. Petroglify Karelii i naskal’noe iskusstvo lesnoy polosy Evrazi [Petroglyphs of Karelia and rock art of the Forest zone of Eurasia]. Sovetskaya Etnografiya 1: 87–105. Savvateev, Y.A. 1970. Zalavruga: Arkheologicheskiye pamyatniki nizov’ya reki Vyg. Chast’ pervaya: petroglify [Zalavruga: Archaeological sites of the Lower Vyg River. Part 1: Petroglyphs]. Leningrad: Nauka. Sher, Y.A. 1980. Petropliphy Sredney i Tsentral’noy Asii [Petrogliphs of Central Asia]. Nauka. Shved, P. 1850. Krestovyi i Peli mysy. Geograficheskiye izvestiya, izdavayemye Russkim geograficheskim obshcestvom 1: 68–71. Simukhin, A.I., P.E. Marnuev, D.V. Namsaraev and L.B. Lbova 2018. Syrzha – New Object of Transbaikalia Rock Art (Experience of Contactless Documentation). Bulletin of the Irkutsk State University. Geoarchaeology, Ethnology, and Anthropology Series 25: 62–85. Sovetova, O.S. 1997. Izuchenie eniseyskikh petroglifov vchera i segodnya [The study of Yenisey petroglyphs

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academic and popular science publications, including Sagaholm: North European Bronze Age Rock Art and Burial Ritual (Oxbow Books, 2016) and Birds in the Bronze Age (Cambridge University Press, 2019).

Jamie Hampson

[email protected]

Jamie Hampson is a Senior Lecturer in the Humanities Department at the University of Exeter. He has a PhD in archaeology and an M.Phil. in archaeological heritage from the University of Cambridge, and an undergraduate degree in history from the University of Oxford. Jamie works on rock art, identity, and Indigenous heritage projects in North America, southern Africa, and Australia. His most recent books are Rock Art and Regional Identity: a Comparative Perspective (Routledge), and Visual Culture, Heritage and Identity: Using Rock Art to Reconnect Past and Present (Archaeopress, edited with Andrzej Rozwadowski). Prior to his position at Exeter, Jamie worked at the University of Western Australia and the University of Cambridge. From 2014–2017, he was an EU-funded Marie-Curie Global Fellow at Stanford University and the University of York.

Kelley Hays-Gilpin Kelley Hays-Gilpin is Professor of Anthropology at Northern Arizona University and Curator of Anthropology at the Museum of Northern Arizona. Her research focuses on pottery, rock art, and fiber arts in the Western Pueblo region from ancient times to the present, and the deep history of Hopi and Zuni relationships with land and water resources as expressed in visual arts.  [email protected] Dennis Gilpin Dennis Gilpin is a Research Associate at the Museum of Northern Arizona. He recently retired from many decades of cultural resource management in the Southwestern U.S. with PaleoWest Archaeology, SWCA Environmental Consultants, and the Navajo Nation Archaeology Department. His research focuses on Navajo and Pueblo architecture, rock art, pottery, and history. 

[email protected] Sam Challis Sam Challis is Head and Senior Researcher at the Rock Art Research Institute, University of the Witwatersrand, South Africa. His focus is on the interaction between hunter-gatherers, pastoralists and farmers, as well as Europeans, as expressed in rock art around the world, and the ‘reverse gaze’ that rock art can offer historians. Equally, he is engaged in a New Animisms approach to Indigenous southern African rock art, particularly that pertaining to forager navigation of the landscape. His research programme in the Eastern Cape aims to redress the imbalance of this neglected former-apartheid region while training local community Field Technicians to record and preserve rock art. He was recently ‘Africa Fellow’ at the Institute of Advanced Studies in the Humanities (IASH), University of Edinburgh, as part of the Institute Project on Decoloniality with the project ‘Digital innovation in decoloniality: enhancing the images of ‘Bushman’ resistance’.

[email protected] Dagmara Zawadzka Dagmara Zawadzka studies Canadian Shield rock art and Indigenous arts. Her PhD examined the rock art of north-eastern Ontario through the lens of relational ontology, specifically looking at how rock art helped to cultivate relationships in the landscape. Recently, she has collaborated on the first ever virtual exhibit of rock art in Canada – Images on Stone (https:// imagesdanslapierre.mcq.org/en/) – created by the Musée de la civilisation à Québec. [email protected] Félix Alejandro Lerma Rodríguez

[email protected]

Félix Alejandro Lerma Rodríguez is Professor at the National School of Higher Studies, National Autonomous University of Mexico, Campus Morelia City. His focus is on the history and art of Mesoamerican cultures, with special emphasis on the southeastern frontier, Otopames groups, rock art, and the history of American archaeology. He teaches the subjects Indigenous Art in America, Pre-Hispanic Art in Mexico and Chronicles of Travel and Travelers.

Joakim Goldhahn Joakim Goldhahn holds the Rock Art Australia Ian Potter Kimberley chair at the Centre for Rock Art Research + Management at the University of Western Australia. He defended his PhD in 2000 at Umeå University, Sweden. Professor Goldhahn has researched the European Bronze Age, the history of archaeology, ritual specialists, and rock art traditions in northern Europe, Kenya, and in the northern parts of Australia. He has created 230+

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Irina Ponomareva Margarita Díaz-Andreu

David Witelson

Margarita Díaz-Andreu is an ICREA Research Professor based at the University of Barcelona (Spain). She is interested in prehistoric archaeology, and the rock art and archaeoacoustics of Western Europe. She is also concerned with heritage and the history of archaeology, with a special emphasis on the history of women in professional archaeology, and the politics of identity in archaeology. She has worked on rock art for more than three decades, most recently as PI of the ERC Artsoundscapes project. She and her team, in collaboration with local rock art experts, have conducted fieldwork in several parts of the world including Siberia, Baja California and South Africa. Prof. Díaz-Andreu’s scientific excellence has been acknowledged with the prestigious Menéndez Pidal National Award for Research in the Humanities in 2021.

David Witelson is a Postdoctoral Fellow at the Rock Art Research Institute, University of the Witwatersrand, where he also runs the Institute’s Seminar Series. In addition to rock art, his research interests include Later Stone Age archaeology and the history of archaeological thought in southern Africa. He has published on stone tools, historical rock art copies, and rock paintings in South Africa’s south-eastern mountains.  In 2019, he published A Painted Ridge: Rock Art and Performance in the Maclear District, Eastern Cape Province, South Africa (Archaeopress). His recent doctoral thesis, supervised by David Pearce and David Lewis-Williams, focuses on performance theory as a means to better understand local hunter-gatherer rock painting practices in the north Eastern Cape and how these changed in response to new audiences.

[email protected]

[email protected]

Richard Kuba

Ghilraen Laue

Richard Kuba is senior research fellow at the Frobenius Institute, Goethe University Frankfurt (Germany) and curator of the Institute’s pictorial and rock art archive. He holds a PhD in Anthropology from Bayreuth University and has conducted extensive fieldwork in Nigeria, Benin and Burkina Faso. His research focuses on pre-colonial history and the European encounter with Africa. He has edited numerous volumes and curated rock art exhibitions in Berlin, Mexico City, Dakar, Paris and Zurich. Currently he heads a German Research Foundation project on rock art recording in Northwestern Australia in the 1930s and 1950s.

Ghilraen Laue is a curator of Human Sciences (Special Collections) at the KwaZulu-Natal Museum and deputy editor of Southern African Humanities, an interdisciplinary journal. She is also an Honorary Research Fellow at the Rock Art Research Institute, University of the Witwatersrand where she completed her undergraduate and postgraduate studies in archaeology, focusing on rock art from Honours to PhD level. Her research is focused on regional differences and materiality in rock art, principally in the Groot Winterhoek Mountains and the Waterberg, South Africa. When not curating the archive she is adding to it with new rock art discoveries and excavations.

[email protected]

[email protected]

Martin Porr

Michael P. Rainsbury

Martin Porr is currently Associate Professor of Archaeology and a member of the Centre for Rock Art Research + Management at the University of Western Australia. He has published widely on Palaeolithic art and archaeology as well as general theoretical aspects of archaeological and rock art research. He has conducted fieldwork in Germany, Thailand, Australia, India, and the Philippines. He is currently engaged in active field research in the Kimberley, Western Australia. His research has so far concentrated on aspects related to decolonising approaches in archaeological research, Palaeolithic archaeology, the Palaeolithic art of Europe and Australian rock art. 

Michael P. Rainsbury is a UK-based independent rock art researcher with a particular focus on Australian and Saharan rock art. He has undertaken field work in Britain, Australia and north Africa and was associated with the ‘Breaking Through Rock Art Recording’ project. He has a strong interest in the regionality of north Kimberley rock art (the topic of his PhD) and is publishing on Australian 19th and early 20th century rock art recordings. [email protected]

[email protected]

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embarking on her Doctoral journey at the University of Campania Luigi Vanvitelli, Italy specialising in ancient polychromy.

Joc Schmiechen Joc Schmiechen is an Asssociate Lecturer, School of Humanities (Archaeology) at Flinders University, South Australia. He has over 50 years of involvement in Aboriginal affairs, education, community development and tourism, and a strong passion for Aboriginal art and especially the rock art of northern Australia. He has undertaken numerous expeditions, mainly in the Kimberley, has recorded parts of a significant body of Bradshaw (Gwion Gwion) art in the Drysdale River National Park. His particular interest is in visitor management and protection of this important cultural heritage. He has worked extensively at the grass roots level with Aboriginal communities and tourism operators throughout Australia, developing and implementing a research agenda for Indigenous tourism for a collective of university and industry partners across Australia.

[email protected] Tseren Byambasuren Tseren Byambasuren is Founder of the Organization for the Study of Diaspora Mongols. With an intermission to obtain her MA in Visual Anthropology at the University of Manchester, she has worked in the cultural heritage sector of Mongolia for 20 years. Her work documents the tangible cultural heritage and cultures of ethnically Mongolian people throughout the world to present to the general public in the form of documentary films, exhibition of photographs and books. Her fieldwork experiences include projects in China, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Russia, Turkmenistan, Iraq, Iran, Korea, India, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan. [email protected]

[email protected]

Irina Ponomareva

Sujitha Pillai

Irina Ponomareva is a postdoctoral researcher at the University of Barcelona, and Resident Adjunct at Griffith University, Australia. Her research interests include rock art and archaeology of Central and North Asia, ethnography of Siberian peoples, cultural anthropology, gender archaeology and Australian Aboriginal archaeology and rock art. She has a degree in archaeology from Saint-Petersburg State University, Russia, and holds a PhD from Griffith University for a thesis ‘Change and continuity in the Prehistoric rock art of East Siberia’ which was published as a book in 2021. In 2020–2022 she also worked as an archaeologist with Aboriginal communities in Queensland, Australia.

Sujitha Pillai completed her first Masters degree in Archaeology and Ancient India History and Culture from Deccan College Post Graduate and Research Institute, Pune, Maharashtra, India. Her thesis focused on the documentation of paintings and engravings in Madurai, Tamil Nadu. In 2017, she was selected for the Erasmus Mundus Programme of IMQP (International Masters in Quaternary and Prehistory), funded by the European Union; her thesis focused on the documentation of painted rock art sites using digital technology in Spain and Portugal. She has presented papers at international conferences and participated in explorations and excavations across India and Europe. She is also the Indian delegate for the 1902 committee, a global database for Rock Art research. Currently, she is

[email protected]

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