Sarah Chapman- Homelessness Countering the Destruction of Home by Kip Redick

Joshua Lucas

Reflections on Prehistoric Art   

    Hey reader! Ever thought about what it would be like to be half lion? Maybe ancient peoples did too. Let's take a look at a piece of art I encountered in my art history course here at CNU. It's called "The Lion-Human," coming from Hohlenstein Germany, c. 40,000-35,000 B.C. We can imagine a number of scenarios as to how its creator(s) came into contact with it. Maybe they stumbled across some dusty old bones, or perhaps this was a trophy from a hard-fought hunt. No matter the case this piece carved from a mammoth tusk is a testament to the interconnection between human and animal communities in prehistory. This is revealed to us on two levels in this piece. The first, being quite obvious, is that it is carved out of what was once a living creature's body part. Once an extension of a subject, the tusk becomes at once both an object and more than an object. It is an object insofar as it is a piece of art and it is more than an object in that it seems to convey something symbolic to us. For, which of us has seen a lion-human in nature? Perhaps ancient peoples were blending humans and animals together in early art because they saw little difference between the two. Perhaps this blend attempts to capture something the lion has which humans do not and vice versa. Perhaps still, this is an early from of deity. We do not know. We do know, however, that the humans, mammoths, and lions and their communion with each other is shown at both a concrete and at an abstract level in this piece.  

    Now, since this is a blog for Religion and Ecology, you may be asking how this ties in to our course. I'm asking that same question as I write this (do you ever feel like writing is a search for a treasure you've never seen?) and I'm finding that the connection here is not entirely direct. Yes, this is an example of art that is drawn out of one's environment. And, indeed, the subject (the lion and human) comes from the environment as well, but isn't there a more beautiful gem to dig up? I was thinking earlier this week as we watched the "Cave of Forgotten Dreams" how it was interesting that humans did not seem to exclude animals from what must have been an important space. These caves must have been, at times, a haven, from dangerous weather and predators in the environment of early humans. While there were many animal bones in the cave, many seeming to have been placed there by humans, and some seeming to have come from animals wandering in, I was surprised to see that the majority of the art these people made did not feature humans as the subject. Early humanity did not see that it was necessary to exclude even the most fear-inspiring animals from its special places. Nor did it seem, given the Lion-human sculpture, that it early humans saw the human form as being unfit to be blended with animal forms. We saw this in the Chauvet cave as well, with the painting of the woman that was blended with a Bison. Humans, at this time, did not see themselves as distinct from animals to such an extent that their forms could not blend seamlessly in art. Or, perhaps it was in the fact that humans and animals were seen as distinct that the pieces of art derived their power. 

    And here it comes: the point. The story of humanity was and is tied up with the other members of our environment. No matter how early humans conceived themselves as opposed to animals, or what purpose their art fulfilled, we hear the unheard voices of countless species, some now extinct, crying out their own "I was here" not by their own power, but by the power of the one animal who could raise up their voices for them, that is, humanity. This evokes a sense of duty on the part of humanity. We crawled out of the mud with these beings, these 'animals' and became who we are today only by their life-blood sustaining ours. The art of our ancestors attests to our interconnection, and as I see it, our obligation to stand as intercessors where and when necessary on behalf of the beings which built this biosphere along with us. That is, the beings which have no voice yet give us life and the opportunity to create such fascinating works of art as these. 

    After all of this, I am left with some questions. How does art inform our sense of self, and how might have early humans been affected by their art once it had been 'let loose'? When, if ever, and on average, did humanity begin to represent itself as being completely distinct from animals? What is the spiritual significance of allowing animals into spaces we consider to be special or sacred? 

None of the pictures are mine, I got them all from Wikimedia.