PAREIDOLIA - A CAVE PAINTING THEORY

It was heard first on the ABC (Australian Broadcasting Commission) radio podcast, on the replay of LNL (Late Night Live) with David Marr. In this particular segment of the programme, Marr was speaking to a Danish researcher who had published a paper in AEON - a long essay - explaining her theory of cave art. Izzy Wisher told how she believed that the artists painted on the cave walls to highlight and define the images envisaged in the rock formations when seen in the flickering glow of the oil lamp. She likened this seeing of images in the rock profiles to the way the eye sees forms in clouds. The scientific name for this phenomenon is pareidolia#: see - https://aeon.co/essays/why-did-our-ancestors-make-startling-art-in-dark-firelit-caves The essay is titled Why make art in the dark? It is a good question, but the difficult concept here is art, and what is inferred by this term; it is not made clear.

Izzy Wisher

Ms Wisher had wondered just why anyone would enter these pitch-black, scary, dangerous places that could be inhabited by wild animals - e.g. bears and panthers - just to paint in the dark. It all appeared to make no logical sense: a gallery in the dark? What were the intentions? Her theory was that the artists made their pareidolic illusions explicit for all to experience in these contorted voids illuminated by the glimmer of the fluttering flame of an oil lamp, cool spaces that reverberated with a silence punctuated only by the solitary drips of the seepage, perhaps the soft, occasional crackle of the lamp, and the noises of the movement of the body: Flickering firelight, echoing acoustics and tactile interactions form visceral experiences for each artist is how Ms Wisher describes the experience that she argues, heightened the illusions envisaged and their psychological mystery.*

Marr suggested, as an aside, and as part of his job to keep the discussion going with provocative prompts, (the previous presenter, Philip Adams, was an expert at showing how clever he was on every subject, frequently answering and explaining his own questions; maybe this was Marr’s inspiration?) that this art was all done for pure enjoyment, with the images coming to life under the flickering light presenting a unique involvement for prehistoric man’s perception. Ms Wisher agreed; it might be something like going to the movies today: both were very pleased with themselves for having conjured up this interpretation. To confirm this theory and its universal intrigue, Ms Wisher noted that: All of us have perceived twisting tree trunks in dim light as unusual creatures emerging from the darkness.

One can see some sense in Ms Wisher’s interpretation of this art, (Marr kept calling her Izzy). She has experimented with folk today, who have been asked to look at precise laser-profiled replicas of these cave surfaces under a light as similar to the oil lamp flame's illumination as technology can reproduce, (an LED battery candle?). These participants have been questioned about what they see. Ms Wisher claims that some participants conjure up exactly what has been painted in some particular locations. It is all very persuasive; but the question remains: why? Why make art in the dark? is a question that remains unanswered in spite of the pareidolic theory which Ms Wisher notes can only be applied to a few of the art works. This admission appears to diffuse the relevance of her explanation of cave painting, to weaken her argument's standing, opening up the whole question yet again to a range of theories outlined in the essay, and to future theories not yet materialised. Why? What?

Painted hands do not fit the pareidolic theory.

We seem to have here a situation similar to that which one encounters with broch studies.** In spite of theories being refuted, researchers seem happy to ignore any specific failure of or challenge to their ideas, and continue on with their specialist research as though nothing had happened; as though the ground for the continued work might be rock solid when it is really alluvial sand. This related work then produces ideas that are again taken onboard by others and further developed without any recognition of the failings, perhaps, at best, coming with a casual dismissal of the importance/relevance of the critique. The research seems to generate its own misguided momentum irrespective of the aims of science to establish some tested, collective understanding. Ms Wisher was happy to declare that: Some even saw the same animal in the same cracks and undulations of the cave wall as depicted by Ice Age people, presenting this as an apparent confirmation of her ideas.

We cannot assume that these cave painters saw in the way that we see; who knows what thoughts and expectations those involved in the experiments brought to the occasion?+ Did these subjects know the aims of the research? Did they go looking for ‘cave paintings’? These images are so well known that it could be that these ‘guinea pigs’ were actually looking for a bison, a deer, or a hand. Why was it that nothing from their lived experience was seen? Ananda Coomaraswamy, (Christian and Oriental Philosophy of Art, 1956), notes that we can only truly understand traditional art when we see it as it was originally perceived. Our visions are likely to bring our preferences to our interpretations, perhaps even our idea of art itself; concepts that we should never burden any explanation with. We cannot assume that early man looked at things aesthetically or with any pictorial or personally expressive purpose.

Barry Lopez tells the story in Horizon (2019) of aboriginals at Uluru, how their discussion revealed that they were talking about the other side of the rock, as if their knowing involved dimensions beyond any formal, singular perspective viewpoint that we are familiar with: . . . the way they described Uluru made it clear that they, far more than I, lived in three spatial dimensions. Their view of the physical world had no correct or privileged point of view. . . . For them there was no ‘front’ or ‘back’ side, no ‘right’ or ‘left’ to the phenomenon. They were not hampered, as I was in my perception of the rock, by a lifetime of learning from flat surfaces, reading about the world mostly left to right and, as often as not, top to bottom – books, maps, drawings, and computer screens. (p.408) 

What we must embrace in these studies of other times is the notion of complexity, and be aware that simple explanations might sound sensible and convincing to us, but could be – and may not be too - only one small part of the total story. Ms Wisher’s theory is thoughtful and shrewd, as she is asking questions about the experience of man (or woman) in the cave. This research could explain one small aspect of the whole, maybe; but what about the other painting that is not pareidolic? Why in the dark? There appears to be much more to know here beyond the mysterious illusions of pareidolic seeing. What role did caves play in the lives of these people to cause them to move in, away from the sun, rain, and fresh air of the open landscape other than shelter?

The use of total darkness for an 'art gallery' display remains a puzzle. There is probably more to this than we will ever know; what feelings were involved? What processes? What intents? Why? It seems trite to assume that these people were just bored. Why were other, more accessible surfaces not used if this painting was only about representation or identification? It seems illogical to search out black voids for this purpose; and just as problematical to propose that this work was done in order to entertain by using the enlivening light of the flickering lamp that we just too easily reference back to our early days of projected pictures: the magic lantern, or the laterna magica. There is more here than meets the eye – literally; and more than is involved in just being there in the Flickering firelight, echoing acoustics and tactile interactions [that formed] visceral experiences for each artist, and, one must add, for each cave visitor.

Marr is raises an interesting point in noting that ‘primitive’ man must have lived, loved, and enjoyed himself as much as we do; well, nearly perhaps: in this context, one needs to gauge contentment. Entertainment has become a modern highlight of existence to quell our fatigued dissatisfaction. Traditional man must have had his social and happy times too, as well as living in a mysterious world managed by beliefs and symbols; Lopez notes this experience, as told to him by a First Nations person, as fear, (Arctic Dreams, 1986), making the entry into the dark environs of the caves even more puzzling. But is this fun approach to the cave painting enough to explain the art, seen as something to please, like decoration, or perhaps as a clever expression of MY vision presented as an indulgence? We have to be very careful, because we cannot assume this art was the fun-and-games we know the art world to be today: art for art’s sake. This is our folly. We need to call the work painting to overcome the implications in this now loaded term, art.

We have to remember that all of our images of cave paintings have been

photographed under very bright flood lights or highly efficient flashlights

that make us come to know them in our own unique manner.

Ms Wisher is right in thinking about traditional man stumbling into unknown darkness with ochres, carbon, oil lamp and twigs, scrambling along and squeezing awkwardly into what could be a den or a lair, as it places matters in context; but her idea of embellishing walls just for fun is questionable. We can assume that there was some necessity to this exercise, given its danger and difficulties in less frivolously fanciful times than ours; we cannot assume that the folk of these times enjoyed the challenge of risk as we do with, e.g., the 'buzz' of bungee jumping or taking dangerous selfies, as they played a game of 'cave roulette.' Traditional man did paint in overhanging recesses and more exposed rock faces than those in these pitch-black caves. Just why he chose to enter the cold, damp darkness and spend time there preparing this display remains to be understood: there is much we do not know. We should not be pleased about pretending we understand things just because of the apparent clarity of some logical, scientific research. We cannot even assume that prehistoric man was rational.

We should delve into symbolism here to get a sense of the difference in perception and experience which extends beyond the dimensional variations Lopez noted^; see - https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2024/06/country-outside-inside-place.html. How did prehistoric man experience the dark? - see: https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2023/04/shetland-dark.html. How was the cave sensed? Ms Wisher assumes that her experience of squeezing into the cramped space was the same as prehistoric man’s bodily sensing of the tactile surfaces; of the feeling of the contorted volumes; the discerning of the acoustic dark revealed by the poor lighting, and the disturbed silence. One can suggest with some confidence that even the physical involvements here are starkly different - how large/small was the cave man/woman?; how fit was this person? were shoes worn? are the obvious first questions – and that the emotional experience was totally different too, because the two cannot be isolated. What we can understand from the words that seek to get some sense of the experience of symbolism rather than develop an explanation of it, is the integration and immediacy of this awareness – its singular wholeness in being that we have fragmented. Our rational minds isolate and itemise, specialise, to try to understand, with the belief that all parts can exist by themselves, unchanged. We have to try to understand that the dark, the art, the experience, the doing - the whole - was one. We need to embrace this intricacy in all of its richness if we are going to get close to truly knowing about cave painting and the people of these times, while all the time remaining aware of the fact that modern physics has highlighted: that our very presence, complete with all of our latest gadgets, changes things irrevocably.

One has to also remember that, the deeper one goes into these caves, the colder it becomes.

How did the cave painters cope with this temperature variation?

Ms. Wisher makes no reference to this aspect of the unique working environment.

Can we be sure that traditional man did not enter the caves with the intention of going to the movies to be entertained by the illusory visions illuminated by the flickering light in this spooky environment as if this might be a Victorian parlour game, or to create such a circumstance? Can we be certain that the cave was not seen to be similar to a ghost ride at Luna Park, or as a House of Horrors used to send tingles up spines – just for fun or as a game of dares? Ms Wisher seems to be fairly clear about this in an ambiguous way, suggesting that this painting held an essential, mystical role in the life of the people, as well as being for general enjoyment – see: https://aeon.co/essays/ice-age-art-making-was-a-tactile-joyous-exploration-of-the-world. One could say that these paintings are not meaningless; but we are left with a fuzzy set of disconnected proposals that should be given more consideration in order to understand the full interconnected complexity of the circumstance; its inner necessity (Kandinsky, Concerning the Spiritual in Art, 1914); its coherence in experience. We are in danger of falling into the 'broch research problem' - of being enthralled with new, piecemeal ideas and running off tangentially into fresh 'revelations' with a rigour that lies and relies on ignored revealed problems.

Is this painting more than just a piece of 'I was here' graffiti - for fun?

#

Google’s Gemini AI Overview explains:

The scientific term for seeing things in clouds is pareidolia: 

• Definition: A psychological phenomenon that causes people to see recognizable shapes in random patterns, such as in clouds, rock formations, or other objects Examples: Seeing a face in toast or a dog in the clouds 

  History: The word pareidolia comes from the German word Pareidolie, which is a combination of the Greek prefix par-, the Greek noun eídōlon (“image, reflection”), and the German suffix -ie 

  Artists: Artists like Giuseppe Arcimboldo used pareidolia in their work 

  Creativity: Creative people are more likely to see pareidolias 

  Evolution: Some scientists believe that pareidolia is a result of our ability to distinguish faces and other meaningful images from visual information 

  Medical use: Doctors use pareidolia to teach medical trainees to assess for spinal fractures and malignancies 

*

That Google’s Gemini explains that Creative people are more likely to see pareidolias remains, in Ms Wisher’s theory, one core understanding that has to put aside. Coomaraswamy has noted that, traditionally, an artist is not a special man; rather, every man is a special kind of artist. Our preference for seeing artists as bespoke, creative geniuses – almost shamans, seers - with unique personal expressions to reveal to everyone, remains a serious problem to be overcome in our understanding of cave paintings, and the artists. We bring much baggage to our research that needs to be discarded; we do not even know if this might be possible.

+

One only has to read Glyn Maxwell’s On Poetry, (Bloomsbury Academic, London, 2021), to understand how others can see things so very differently, even today.

**

 For more on brochs, see:

https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2023/03/the-broch-its-intramural-stair.html

and

https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2017/01/on-brochs-enigma-of-meaning-form.html

P.S.

WOMEN'S BUSINESS?

One thought now comes to mind: in the writing of this piece, in spite of pulling oneself up from time to time – and as part of a conscious effort to avoid the boredom of the repeated ‘man/woman’ identification throughout the text – it has been easy to fall into the gender trap of thinking only about the ‘caveman.’ Such is the strength of the cliché that thoughts always tend to anchor themselves around the male.

The cliché caveman: an ogre with a club.

It needs to be pointed out that there is no apparent reason to dismiss the idea that all cave painting was carried out by cavewomen; that this work is all ‘women’s business.’ Perhaps it is just that the word, ‘cavewoman,’ does not sit as comfortably as the male alternative, either on the tongue or the page, that the mind so easily settles for the male option when matters of cave painting are raised. It should not go unnoticed that the notion of caves and the visual parallels with cave openings and voids, and things female, encourages one to believe that more discussion and work is needed on this subject.

Entrance to Lascaux

https://www.donsmaps.com/lascaux.html

Plan of Lascaux

Female reproductive system.

What is it that makes us give preference to males in art rather than females?

A FERTILITY RITE?

MOTHER EARTH

"The Great Spirit is in all things. He is in the air we breathe. The Great Spirit is our Father, but the Earth is our Mother. She nourishes us. That which we put into the ground she returns to us"

Big Thunder (Bedagi) Wabanaki, Algonquin

Painting in Granhults Church, Sweden.

One wonders about the intentions and subjects involved in the painting of surfaces.

A woman painting the Lascaux replica.

An oil lamp from Lascaux.

Unlike today's torches, the oil lamp would have been an awkward object

to carry through some of the cave spaces.

^

NOTE

19 NOV 24

It is difficult to give an indication of the symbol as experience that is immediate and complete in its subtle references. One can gain some sense of what this is in the writings of Martin Lings. In What is Sufism?, George Allen & Unwin, London, 1973. On the subject of water, on p.77-78, he writes:

It must be remembered moreover that not only the ritual act but also the element itself is a symbol, which means that it is linked to a chain of archetypes going back to its Divine Origin. In other words, the water must be considered as flowing into this finite world from the next; and according to the Qur’ān, water is one of the symbols of Mercy (which includes purification), and of Life. The quantity used does not enter into the question. A drop of water as well as a lake symbolises the Infinite Beatitude into which Mercy reintegrates; and water used in the ablution, when consecrated by the aspiration of return, is above all a vehicle of reintegration or, from another angle, of liberation, for water is likewise a symbol of the Living Substance of Reality set free from the ice of finite forms.

In regards to darkness, it is interesting to read:
p.80 . . . it must be remembered that night is the symbol of the soul.

- leaving one wondering how the caves were perceived, and what the emotional quality of the act of painting might have been in a dripping darkness.