Directions: Please summarize this article in English in about 200 words.
The way that we place value on art in the Western world is distinctly odd. It is, for the most part, a luxury or a commodity more or less isolated from other aspects of society. We evoke sentiments of the psychologist Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs when discussing the role of art: we live in a society where our basic needs are met, and therefore can indulge in the frivolous activity of art-making. There are exceptions, of course, such as political and religious art. But it’s rare to see art that is intrinsically woven into, and ultimately shapes, the very fabric of society. Was art always destined to be something that came only after we had satisfied our basic subsistence needs? Human evolution suggests not.
Art-making is one of the oldest human behaviors—it seems to have its origins hundreds of thousands of years ago. Two of the earliest art forms in the archaeological record are impossibly old: the Tan-Tan figurine and the Berekhat Ram figurine date to around 500,000 to 300,000, and 250,000 years ago, respectively. We want to believe that art is unique to our species, a behavior that set us apart, but without asking why it held so much value to the very earliest human societies.
Cave art remains fixed in place, undisturbed, in exquisite time capsules of human behavior. Ice Age, or Upper Palaeolithic, societies might hold some of the answers about why we create art. Artistic behaviors seem to have flourished during the Upper Palaeolithic, giving birth to something like a renaissance of art production; for many years this period was referred to as a “cultural explosion” or “revolution”. These Ice Age artists produced a huge number of diverse artefacts and paintings during this period. But the most intriguing category among all of this is cave art.
Found most famously in France and Spain at sites such as Lascaux, cave art has also been discovered at a wide range of different places, from the Cueva de las Manos in Argentina and the Lubang Jeriji Saléh cave in Borneo to the caves of Creswell Crags in Britain. Cave art is a breathtaking example of the extent of creativity during the Upper Palaeolithic; not only are we perplexed by the artists’ desire to venture deep underground to make this art (sometimes up to 2 km in from the cave mouth), but we are fortunate enough to be able to see it as it was intended to be viewed, often in superb condition. Unlike beads or figurines, cave art remains fixed in place, undisturbed, in exquisite time capsules of human behavior.
To explore the importance of art to these most ancient of human societies, we need to delve into some of these time capsules and immerse ourselves in the Upper Palaeolithic world. Lascaux cave, France, c17,000 years ago. This is the most famous cave-art site in the world; the vibrant polychrome images of this art are plastered over coffee table books on human evolution, and hundreds of thousands of people visit the third iteration of the Lascaux reconstruction each year. The popularity of this cave isn’t surprising. The vast composition of highly detailed animal depictions inspires awe and fascination for anyone fortunate enough to enter the cave. The almost “rhythmic sequence” behind the placement of each animal offers a sense of narrative, one that is long forgotten in deep time. Although the art is situated underground, the visually imposing depictions were intended to be viewed by a sizeable audience. More than 100 lamps were found within the cave, made from stone with a depression to hold animal fat and a wick, akin to modern candles; these might have been used as installation lighting, spotlighting the art within the darkness of the cave. The diffuse, flickering light cast by the flames would have created an immersive experience for our Palaeolithic audience. Dancing light and shadows brought the art to life, evoking a sense of movement and dynamism—the closest thing to Ice Age cinema.
It wasn’t the final form that was of importance, but the process of making it that held meaning. The “Panel of Hands” best characterizes this within El Castillo. The implicit presence of generations of hands that were placed on the cave wall are captured and preserved in a red ochre pigment, which was blown from the mouths of our distant ancestors. These hand-stencils tangibly connect us to Upper Palaeolithic people; we can reach out across the ages and almost touch our hands with theirs. This probably evoked a similar sense of connection in the Upper Palaeolithic. The hand-stencils within the cave are old, dating to at least 37,000 years ago. The multiple generations of people who traversed and explored this cave since would have similarly cast their eyes on these hands. They might not have recognized the deep age of the hand-stencils, but would have understood that they represented the implicit presence of people who had been in the cave before them, as they would have understood tracks of the animals they hunted. They might even have felt moved to produce their own hand-stencils, adding to a long tradition of intimate connection; some hand-stencils in this cave date to around 25,000 years ago, created 12,000 years after the oldest hand-stencils in this cave.
Art becomes a cultural memory of vital information passed from generation to generation. There is also an element of play, adventure and exploration embedded within the making of the art at this site. Finger flutings, made by running fingers through the soft clay “moon milk” surface of cave walls, are found in Rouffignac cave and appear to have been predominately made by children and adolescents, giving us glimpses of intimate and very familiar human behavior. One example appears to have been made by a child no older than five years, but it’s at a height that suggests the child was held at the hip of an adult so that it could join in with the making of these flutings. In this instance, the art made appears to have served no greater purpose than the tactile interaction of running fingers across a wall and the joy of seeing this action leave a mark behind. It’s a distinctly human behavior, one that we can all vividly picture, appreciating the enjoyment it would have involved: the quiet exploration of the cave beforehand, suddenly broken by the sound of children squealing with laughter as they run their fingers across the wall, with adults cautiously supervising and occasionally, but perhaps reluctantly, helping the youngest to reach higher.
Although the themes embodied within these time capsules of human behavior—storytelling, connection, play—might seem superficially trivial, they were crucial to the function of society and to survival within the harsh, unforgiving environment of the last Ice Age. The depictions of animals are deliberately accurate in their representation of certain features and behavior. The animals aren’t depicted as static, but in different positions of alertness or responsiveness, which would have been essential knowledge for a Palaeolithic hunter. People relied on this information about animals for hunting. Knowledge about animal behaviors and migration is much easier to pass on when woven into the narrative of a story brought to life with artistic representations; the art becomes a cultural memory of vital information passed from generation to generation.