Three recently published books on prehistoric rock art in the American Southwest represent a range of current research into various aspects of this intriguing subject. Each book makes an important contribution to the knowledge of rock art and the cultural traditions from which it developed.
For centuries, scientists and lay people alike have been fascinated by the gorgeous polychrome murals and elaborate petroglyphs prehistoric peoples created in public and private places, yet the real meaning of these enigmatic images has remained tantalizingly elusive. Ethnographic evidence indicates that the art was often produced by shamans, but for many years archaeologists dismissed these records as providing no useful information about the content of the art. In the masterful Art of the Shaman, a book as pleasing to look at as it is to read, David S. Whitley, an archaeologist who has written extensively on prehistoric art and religion (see “Reading the Minds of Rock Artists,” American Archaeology, Fall 1997), brings together ethnographic analysis, art interpretation, and findings from the esoteric field of neuropsychology to shed new light on this mystery.
Whitley asserts that the forms of rock art found in California, though richly varied stylistically, actually represent a limited number of specific themes related to shamanism, a concept known to be central to the religious beliefs of prehistoric Californians. The sites themselves—often caves, crevices, and natural formations chosen for their symbolic content—were sacred places intermediate between this world and the world of the spirits. Whitley makes a compelling argument that rock art depicts the events of the shamans’ vision quests, the spirits they had encountered, and the rituals in which they had participated.
The question remains of why shamans created art—that is, why they needed to permanently record their otherworldly experiences.Whitley suggests that a clue may be found in neuropsychology. Scientists who study brain chemistry during altered states of consciousness have discovered that short-term memory is severely impaired during a trance. This observation eerily echoes ethnographic accounts of the great difficulty shamans had in remembering their hallucinogenic experiences. Perhaps recording these important sacred events in paint or carving was a way of ensuring that they would not be forgotten.
Whitley’s ingenious thesis also offers an explanation for the puzzling geometric motifs that proliferate in rock art, and which have often been dismissed as mere decorative graffiti. These images are strikingly similar to the optical illusions reported by subjects to accompany a trance state or as precursors to migraine headaches. By drawing on findings from divergent fields, Whitley has produced a highly original synthesis of current research into the meaning of these ubiquitous and haunting images.
Another book dealing with the interpretation of rock art is Polly Schaafsma’s Warrior, Shield, and Star, which investigates the depiction of warfare in Southwest rock art as a means of understanding violence and conflict among the prehistoric Pueblo peoples. The rock art and kiva murals in Arizona, Colorado, Utah, and New Mexico incorporate some of the most dramatic, graphic images in Pueblo art. Representations of shields and other weapons, warriors, animal war patrons, and other warfare iconography suggest a very different culture from the traditional “peaceful farmer” model of the Anasazi.
Schaafsma’s investigation combines interpretation of these symbols with ethnographic data from diverse sources to shed light on the ideological motivations for institutionalized conflict during the Pueblo IV period (ca. A.D. 1325 – 1600) The art indicates that organized warrior societies and kachina cults evolved during this time, and that the warfare was important to the rainmaking and sun cults that sought to ensure agricultural success. The concluding chapter relates ancient war symbols to modern Pueblo war societies, where some of the more traditional rituals are still performed.
Fertility has long been recognized as a theme of primary importance in the art of prehistoric cultures. The abundance and universality of fertility images suggest that a primary concern of ancient peoples was the appeasement of supernatural forces to assure the continuation of life, not just of humans, but of other animals and plants upon which human life depended. The Serpent and the Sacred Fire, by Dennis Slifer, features hundreds of diagrams and numerous photographs focusing on the iconography of fertility, creation, and abundance, and the connections between sexuality and the sacred, in the rock art of the American Southwest. Slifer further compares these images to those found in the art of tribal peoples from other parts of the world to demonstrate the archetypal nature of such depictions.
Undoubtedly, as research progresses on this compelling subject, new discoveries and insights will continue to add to our understanding. Nonetheless, these three scholars have given us a great deal to think about and admire in the ancient people who preceded us in this place.
– Betsy Greenlee
