One day 25,000 years ago at a place now called Kostenki on the river
Don in Russia, someone prepared a section of mammoth ivory and began to
work it into the shape of a pregnant woman. That "someone" may have been
a woman, and it would have taken her longer than a day because ivory is
a difficult material. Whatever it was for, whatever it denoted, the
little figure was eventually placed in a pit, where it remained, until
rediscovered in our own times.
This stunning exhibition, and its
companion book Ice Age Art, brings together for the first time such
sculptures, figurines and engravings made in Europe from 40,000 to
10,000 years ago, from Siberia to France. "Ice age" because modern
humans began to migrate into Europe about 45,000 years ago, towards the
end of the last ice age. By 40,000 years ago the first artworks were
being made. Art had arrived, in John Berger's words "like a foal that
can walk straight away".
Forty thousand years ago sounds like a
long reach of time, but immediately one enters the exhibition at the
British Museum time dissolves. Perhaps because we were Paleolithic for
such an age,Service Report a problem with a street light.
the artworks we see before us are deeply, if strangely, familiar. We
peer, and half-remember. It can make one feel a bit homesick.
When
one thinks of Paleolithic art, it is often the great – and late – cave
paintings of Lascaux or Chauvet, but this exhibition concentrates on
small pieces recovered from graves and cave floors. Unlike the cave
paintings, this was art for everyone. There are figures in the round,
and little plaques that people could take with them when they moved
camp. Some were intended to be worn. Some are lit with attention to the
shadows they cast,Like most of you, I'd seen the broken buy mosaic
decorated pieces. because they would most likely have been seen by
firelight, and thrown strange shapes on to tent-skins or cave walls. The
palette is reduced and plain: bone, antler, tusk and stone are the
surviving materials. Some pieces would have been polished with red
ochre, some are stained black from lying in the earth, all channel our
vision and require concentrated looking.
In the first room is a
small gathering of little figurines (let's not call them "Venuses") –
small, nuggety pieces three or four inches high, worked in the round and
showing women's bodies. Made of stone or bone or ivory, some are
slender and depict young women in the early stages of pregnancy. Others
show older women, weighted with huge, low-slung breasts, wide backsides,
tapering legs. The heads are bent in a manner almost demure, or perhaps
it's the infolded attitude of pregnant women. Many actually do show
women in the late stages of pregnancy, when one's body is exaggerated
and unrecognisable even to oneself. They are earthy, mute, potent
things, and were made with deliberation. Some were apparently intended
to be worn as pendants, upside down, so as to be viewed by the wearer.
Senior curator and author Jill Cook believes these figures were most
likely made for women by women. "The female figures probably had
important occult,Site describes services including Plastic Mould.
or shamanic functions influential on family life." At least one was
deliberately smashed and thrown away – a passionate act. Perhaps it
failed in some talismanic duty. Whatever the uses of such sculptures,
"by looking at its aesthetics, we are looking at the evolution of our
minds". Art is not a hobby; it makes us, and shapes us.
The
artworks come from sites in modern-day southern Germany, the Czech
republic and into Russia as far as Lake Baikal, and from France and
Italy. Many have come from the Moravian Gate, a valley that connects the
Danube valley to the north European plain, which acted as a conduit for
migrating animals and for their predators too. There were great
open-air campsites there,The cost of cleaning just 2 infected lenses is
already higher than the cost of a dry cabinet.
where some people, possibly women, may have been sedentary. (We have to
account for images of female obesity among people who are supposed
always to be on the move.)
Wherever they were found, what these
artworks express is the nature of relationships. The relationship of
women to their own bodies, and bodily changes, especially around
childbearing. The human relationship to wild animals, at a time when all
animals were wild, and we depended on them. Also, there is the
relationship to spirit animals and otherworlds. (The grave goods of one
boy suggest he was a shaman.) We are still preoccupied with our own
bodies; it is the Paleolithic link to animals we miss.
Moving
from the early female figures into the rooms of animal sculptures, one
is reminded of this long intimacy. Paleolithic people must have read
animal signs and talked about animals obsessively. They hunted, killed,
gralloched, skinned, cleaned, cooked, ate, scraped, cured, and sewed,
and fashioned artworks and decorations from animal antlers and bones.
But mostly they looked. The little images are of animals seen at close
quarters or middle distance, with the right "gizz" and proportions. They
have been made by skilful and confident makers who were possibly spared
other tasks, because to make them took time and daylight. Some pieces
show prey species, others portray animals to be feared and admired. Cave
lions are often depicted, as are bears. They knew, and drew, animals
now extinct.
Here is a lovely waterbird, not 5cm long, stylised
and streamlined in the act of diving, which was found in the Hohle Fels
cave in southern Germany. Here,Which Air purifier
is right for you? the minotaur-bulk and weight of a musk ox emanates
from a sculpture in limestone, found in the Dordogne. (Musk oxen are
confined to the Arctic, nowadays.) A scene carved on reindeer bone shows
two does at what could be a riverbank; the curvature of the bone
becomes the landscape behind them. A ptarmagan has been drawn on a piece
of antler which itself has the abstract shape of a bird lifting into
flight. A wolverine pads along, left forepaw raised. The watchful
intimacy with animals is shown in the line of a mouth, or the turn of a
paw. They are real animals, but because the materials are also animal,
throughout the exhibition there is a sense of transformation. A woman is
shaped from mammoth tusk, a vulture's wing bone becomes a flute.
Flutes
are among the oldest pieces represented here, so from earliest times
people had music, as well as visual art. By extrapolation they must have
had chant, song, poetry, story. Some figures appear to be dancing. One
of the very few male figures is a mannequin made of mammoth ivory, with
head and arms articulated so he could be moved. He was found buried in
an isolated grave, lying on the skeleton of a real man. What can we
suppose? A theatrical shaman? A travelling puppeteer and storyteller?
We
shouldn't overspeculate, and the curators are careful not to. As they
say, the little diving bird may have been a "spiritual symbol connecting
the upper, middle and lower worlds of the cosmos … Alternatively it may
be an image of a small meal and a bag of useful feathers."
Indeed.
Whatever the Paleolithic sense of cosmos may have been, it's safe to
say that they had well-made objects for everyday utility: clothes,
tentage, tools. They had weapons. Bringing down a mammoth was no mean
feat; men's lives had dangers and rites of passage too, so one wonders
at the preponderance of female figures. Perhaps the workings of the
female body were just too mysterious to women and men alike.
We
still have bodies, still negotiate with them, and as biological entities
we share the closest kinship with animals. However, although we
surround ourselves with their images, and teach children their names and
shapes, the daily immediacy of wild animals is lost. In this exhibition
one feels again their pungency and company, and our dependency on them.
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