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ART, PERCEPTION AND INFORMATION
PROCESSING: AN EVOLUTIONARY
PERSPECTIVE
By Derek Hodgson (Rock Art Research 2000, 17(1):3-34)
Abstract. Lower and Middle Palaeolithic abstract marks have recently become more
available in the archaeological record. Theories concerning the significance of such
marks have invariably concentrated upon an intended referentiality, thereby ignoring
the possibility of an analysis based upon evolutionary criteria predicated on a gradual,
cumulative scenario which does not necessarily have to depend on symbolic
explanations. This paper seeks to redress the balance by determining how early mark-
making can be sufficiently explained through evolutionary mechanisms in conjunction
with how the brain and visual cortex process information. In approaching the origins
of art from this perspective, parallels will be drawn with how the brain deals with
concomitant types of information, e.g. language, which can give important clues as to
why and how mark-making might have developed.
KEYWORDS: Palaeolithic art - Evolutionary psychology - Information processing -
Perception
Introduction
If, as evolutionary theory suggests, all physical and behavioural change is due to an
adaptation to shifting circumstances it seems unlikely that ‘art’ (or what can be termed
‘proto-art’ when referring to early mark-making) can be dissociated from those forces
by which the very fabric of life has been determined. The evolutionary factors, which
have shaped the brain and complex behaviour of humans over millions of years, are,
therefore, unlikely to be completely overturned by cultural developments arising out of
a relatively short period. In this respect evolutionary psychology, premised on the
recent findings of cognitive science and the brain as a means of processing
information, has much to offer by recourse to a nativist-oriented Integrated Causal
Model as opposed to the predominating relativist and contextually based Standard
Social Science Model. Crucially, an Integrated Causal Model would be inclined to
regard the acquisition of mechanisms of the brain as both specialised and universal,
having gradually evolved in response to evolutionary principles (Tooby and Cosmides
1992: 23, 100). As Dawkins (1991: 90) has indicated, small changes over a long period
can explain ‘an enormous range of things that would be otherwise inexplicable’. One
of the ideas I hope to clarify in this paper is how art originated and developed as part
of a similar, gradual, evolutionary dynamic. It will also be argued that the origin of art
was inherently bound to the fundamentals of natural selection (Dennet 1995: 144) and
an evolving visual system as Gombrich (1984: 1-4, 7) has implied.
With a greater insight, in recent years, of the functioning and structure of peripheral
and central mechanisms of perception has come, likewise, a greater understanding of
how the visual system has been forged by the exigencies of evolution (Gregory 1990).
It has been suggested that over half the human cortex is involved in vision (Gregory
1990: 7-8) and the cortex, in toto, grew, initially, out of the need to process visual
information (Gregory 1970: 12-13) — a case of form (graphic marks) following function
(the neurophysical structure of the visual cortex). Consequently it is now possible, by
graphic analysis of the Lower Palaeolithic (L. P.) and Middle Palaeolithic (M. P.) mark-
making (and by implication later Upper Palaeolithic [U. P.] representational forms), to
make a comparative analysis linking such artistic phases to the stages through which
the early human visual system, shaped by the demands of survival, had already
passed before the onset of mark-making, i.e. from a reactive to a more pro-active
engagement with the immediate environment. This has opened the way to a possible
investigation of how the earliest manifestation of ‘art’ can be understood from a
position free of the usual constraints contained in contextual or aesthetic approaches.
Indeed, the only realistic way of hoping to understand the earliest marks produced by
hominids, before the supposed 40 000 BP threshold, is through a perceptual and
Darwinian analysis and, in this respect, such marks should be regarded as vitally
important for the very reason that they are the earliest, and may provide valuable
insights, not only about the early humans responsible for their production, but also
the structure of the visual system and the origins of art. By rephrasing the question
‘What does early Palaeolithic art tell us about the socio/economic structure of early
humans?’ to one of ‘What do the first graphic forms used by early humans tell us
about perceptual evolution?’ might a new understanding be possible.
An investigation of this order will, of necessity, be obliged to take a broader sweep of
history than is usual while considering, at the same time, how art must be viewed both
as a single trend and part of a multifaceted tendency. In taking this position the
genesis of art has to be seen from the perspective of evolutionary time, that is, slowly
unfolding, with many false starts, retrogressions, important developmental
accomplishments and long plateaus of achievement, reinforcement or recapitulation
but still continuing to evince a discernible trend. Regarded in this way the L. P., and
later M. P., will be considered as pre-representational, or proto-art phases, which led,
eventually, to the representation of the U. P.
In order to examine how evolutionary imperatives have moulded art from this
standpoint, Part I of this paper considers the general determining evolutionary and
environmental parameters, which will provide a grounding for Part II, concerning a
more detailed analysis of relevant examples of early art with regard to perceptual
factors. This will embrace theories of perception, language and art, anthropology,
ethology and child development, as well as precise examples of pre-Historic art and
other relevant sources, such as infant drawing, shamanism, phosphene theory and
neurophysiology. Part III will attempt to bring the findings of the first two parts
together to provide a comprehensive model tracing the development of early art in
relation to commensurate activities. The conclusion, it is hoped, will provide some
insight as to the origins of art within the course of evolutionary history and illustrate
how art has figured within the context of other important traditions arising during and
subsequent to pre-History. Although the Integrated Causal Model brokered by
evolutionary psychology is acknowledged as having provided a useful framework by
which these various disciplines can be appropriated in relation to early art, it will be
necessary, here, to accommodate the model according to the ensuing analysis.
PART I
PLACING ART WITHIN AN EVOLUTIONARY CONTEXT
Defining art: order, repetition and information processing
Art, by its very nature, is not, as a subject, amenable to any straightforward
delimitation. For present purposes a working definition will be proposed which seeks
to encompass the majority of Western and non-Western art in accordance with a
universal component implied by an evolutionary analysis (Tooby and Cosmides 1992:
78-9) but, at the same time, is not wholly incompatible with cultural interpretations. To
assess how art can be considered from this perspective it will be necessary to begin
with the theoretical context by which graphic ‘primitives’ and simple repetitive lines
can be understood, and how particular formative perceptual processes might be
related to such elemental configurations.
By definition, art is inherently bound to the processes of visual perception as
Gombrich (1977) has suggested. Gombrich, however, regards the perception of
novelty in nature, by way of ‘top-down’ hypothesis testing (which determines the
artistic depiction of pattern), as a primary predisposing factor (Gombrich 1984: 7-10,
107-8). He bases this view on Gregory’s theory of perception (see Gregory 1973: 74,
79-80 and below). Contrary to Gombrich, the definition to be elaborated in this paper
defines the capacity to depict pattern as dependent on the ability to transcribe or
represent order by way of continuity (what Gombrich describes as the ‘etc. principle’;
1984: 99) and, therefore, would antecede the aesthetic pleasure of novelty as a critical
feature. More simply, pattern has to be seen, analysed and constructed (as determined
by a precept or rule) before its more novel attributes can be exploited. Pertinently,
Mach suggests, ‘A rule always presupposes a repetition. Repetitions, therefore, will
probably be found to play some important part in the production of agreeable effects’
(Mach 1943: 91), and ‘Any figure, no matter how crude or poor, if several times
repeated, with repetitions placed in line, will produce a tolerable frieze. Also the
pleasant effect of symmetry is due to the repetition of sensations’ (Mach 1943: 92) (my
emphasis). We would hardly have evolved in the first instance from the ‘blooming,
buzzing confusion’ if at every moment it was necessary to entertain a myriad of
hypothesis as to what was transpiring in the world! In reality we tend only to question
perceptual phenomena, in the form of various possible hypotheses, in the event of a
doubt arising which might threaten the prevailing, tried and tested norms (rule-
governed system). Zeki (1993: 355) summarises the point admirably: ‘The brain strives
to acquire a knowledge about the permanent, invariant properties of objects and
surfaces in our visual world’, which is only possible ‘if it is able to discard the
continually changing information reaching it from the visual environment’. Although
Gombrich alludes to the concept of order as repetition (1984: 4-5) it is consistently
regarded as ‘redundant’ (1984: 8-9) and of passing importance. Repetitive mark-
making would, however, in itself, have constituted a novelty in the face of the flux of
nature, a preliminary stage in the representation of form.
In short, the reason repeated lines and geometric shapes are so appealing is not so
much because of rarity in nature, but more because they are already an integral
feature of the brain. Continuity, or repetition, would have signified what was safe,
secure and ‘understood’, whereas change (or novelty) represented threat.
Early humans, through a process of trial and error and successive approximation
were, in extracting pattern from the world, unwittingly engaged in the appropriation of
a technique which would become the basis for encoding thought in a tangible, stored
and retrievable form. In the material realisation of this striving, art becomes a means of
embodying and preserving information relatively immune to the ravages of time, and
as Gombrich (1991: 65) himself admits, a way of stopping, or arresting, the incoming
perceptual stream. As a perceptual phenomenon art is, then, an attempt to render
permanent and tangible that which was formally intangible and fleeting, the seeking of
order in the midst of disorder, the expression of the sense of pattern, harmony and
symmetry synthesised from the immediate, ambient confusion. This definition need
not exclude cultural interpretations, but would tend to regard such accounts as more
relevant to the art of the U. P., as a precocious vocal language ability might well
apportion meaning to the represented forms prevalent during this period. Such
interpretations, however, only begin to become credible either during, or after the
representational stage, because it is only at this point that two-dimensional picture-
making becomes a powerful vehicle for the transmission of ideas and the prevailing
cultural norms — representation would have been contingent upon the ‘learning’ of a
graphic vocabulary before a more advanced, vocal competence was able to attribute
any coherent meaning. ‘Learning’ in the sense used here has a particular significance
for reasons which will be outlined below.
Previous explanations of Palaeolithic art
Notwithstanding the difficulties concerning definitions of what is to constitute ‘art’,
and the ambiguities thrown up by relativism, pre-Historic art brings with it countless
problems to do with its remoteness in time and gaps in the archaeological record.
Recent discoveries of L. P. art, together with archaeological finds throughout the
world have, however, begun to reveal a more complete but still far from adequate
description of the formative art produced by early humans.
With more reliable dating techniques the genesis of ‘art’ has been consigned further to
the distant past (Bahn 1998: 162; Bednarik 1992, 1995a). In addition, a growing
catalogue of diverse marks and various artefacts from the period before 40 000 BP has
served only to increase the controversy as to their possible significance (Bahn 1998:
164; Bednarik 1992). Yet, the later cave paintings of the U. P., such as Lascaux, Pech
Merle, Cosquer and Altamira continue to be accepted as indicative of a sudden
upsurge of artistic activity — part of the cultural explosion after the 40 000 BP M./U. P.
boundary (White 1982; White 1989). Theories have, consequently, been fabricated in
order to explain this upsurge (e.g. Mithen 1996; White 1992), leading to a spate of
hypothesis which have attempted to account, more precisely, for the images of the U.
P., e.g. symbolic (Marshack 1976; White 1992), shamanistic (Lewis-Williams and
Dowson 1988), as evidence of hunting magic (Breuil 1952) or, as suggested by Leakey
(1994: 114) and Bahn and Vertut (1997: 213), according to whatever has happened to
be the prevailing hypothesis. Some of these socio/cultural explanations may well be
compelling and applicable to rock art from the time of the so-called cultural explosion,
i.e. when discernible representational art had become an important feature, but
questions have been raised as to the relevance of such theories to mark-making
before the advent of representation (Davis 1986).
In focusing on possible explanations for the sophisticated naturalism of U. P. art,
commentators, by resorting to a sudden onset theory, have tended to misunderstand
or discount earlier geometric marks (Chase and Dibble 1987; Gamble, 1993: 168),
usually as a function of natural events or part of the butchering or crafting of an
object, as Bahn (1998: 86) and Bednarik (1992, 1995a), amongst others, have noted.
Despite this failing some serious attempts have been made to explain the abstract
geometric marks produced both before and concurrent with representational art,
including decorative function (Conkey 1980, 1981), sexual (Leroi-Gourhan 1958),
notational/calendric (Marshack 1972), as a depiction of natural or fossil objects (Feliks
1998a), etc. Ultimately, a definitive explanation regarding abstract motifs of this kind
will continue to remain elusive, not least because concrete evidence to substantiate
any given theory is unlikely to become available.
The gradualist approach
Davis (1986) is of the opinion that the image-making of early humans is a ‘predictable
adaptation which should be coherently situated in the overall trajectory of hominid
evolution’, which can be ‘derived logically from simple and archaic perceptual and
cognitive processes’.
This view presupposes a gradualist scenario based upon the development of
perception as manifesting the appearance of an increasingly diverse and sophisticated
use of mark-making similar to that suggested by Bednarik (1992), who regards the idea
of a ‘cultural explosion’ at the beginning of the European U. P. as hindering the
acceptance of a more protracted process (1995a: 606). Bahn (1998: 186) sees this
division as artificial and based upon the lack of evidence in the archaeological record
because of the greater time span involved.
The position taken, in this paper, in regard to the evolution of art, is essentially
gradualist, in the sense that there was no mysterious, cognitive or aesthetic cultural
explosion at the M./U. P. transition, receptive and spoken language, graphic schema
and tool-making having incrementally increased over a protracted period at different
rates. The perceived proliferation after the 40 000-year boundary is, accordingly,
considered as artificially exaggerated due to the more recent rock art having survived
the time scales involved (Bahn 1998: 87).
Once the trick of representation had finally been mastered there would probably have
been an increased tendency to use, and value, the technique as a means of embodying
information. The commonly accepted ‘upsurge’ could well have been but one, albeit
significant, event in a string of corresponding small, cumulative events. The assumed
upsurge can then be regarded as no more than to do with a synthesising or fusing of
particular ways of processing information, i.e. visual depiction and spoken language,
as the continuation of an integrative trend which had been taking place throughout
hominid history.
If art is defined as a means of storing and transferring information (Bahn 1998: xxiii)
within and between generations, its supposed widespread appearance from 40 000
years BP onwards can be explained more readily by an increasing ability of humans to
disseminate such information materially with ever more efficiency and economy — a
development which had probably taken some hundreds of thousands of years to
perfect ‘climaxing’ in the full, representational images of rock art during the U. P.
Information is defined here as a continuum from the non-referential to the fully
symbolic, where the representational art of the U. P. can be seen as occupying the
middle ground. The abstract schema of L./M. P. art can be regarded as information
driven more directly by way of evolutionary mechanisms, in contrast to the
subsequent, more culturally derived representational art, as part of a progressive,
exponential process whereby the co-ordinated integration of abstract schema into
representational forms led to less time-specific constraints on communicative
expertise — an expertise which was to culminate in symbolic depiction.
The recently discovered cave paintings of Chauvet have somewhat confused the issue
in being dated to more than 30 000 BP, while at the same time being similar in
sophistication to the much later paintings of Lascaux and Altamira (c. 16 000 BP).
Whitney Davis’s thesis as a developmental one is, therefore, seen to fail as his
premise is based upon the latter being the consummation of a historically linear
process on which Aurignacian images (34 000-28 000 years BP) are deemed the
earliest. Halverson’s case (1992) fails for similar reasons, as do other explanations
based on the evolution of elements of style limited to U. P. art (Stringer and Mckie
1996).
Attention should rather have been focused on the abstract schema which has come to
light before the Aurignacian period, i.e. before the M./U. P. transition and the
appearance of fully-fledged representational art. The outline drawings and abstract
geometric forms and patterns, still prevalent during the U. P., it will be shown, can be
accommodated by taking this longer view and may also help to shed further light on
why Davis’s and Halverson’s accounts have failed to account for the facts.
The relationship of art and language
The decisive question arises: if art is not part of a developmental process whereby
abstract schema gravitates towards representational form, as White maintains (White
1992: 539), why is it representation never precedes the more ancient, abstract marks
or, conversely, why is it that this schema actually predates representation? (Bahn
1998: 223). As Bednarik (1984) has indicated, ‘The more frequently phosphene types
occur in rock art, the more archaic it is. In the oldest traditions they may dominate to
the point of exclusiveness’, and as Bahn (1998: xv) emphasises, ‘Apparently non-
figurative art-motifs which convey nothing to our eyes other than the patterning, has
existed from the beginning. Indeed it often dominated the art of the Palaeolithic period
and its study is one of the long-neglected challenges of archaeology’.
The willingness to attribute symbolic intent to art before the representation of the U. P.
has caused much confusion with a continuum of theories, from those that would
regard such marks as already fully symbolic to those, at the opposite extreme, taking a
more asymbolic position, usually from a neurophysiological standpoint, with all
shades of opinion in between (Byers 1994). This confusion may reside in the fact that
symbolic ability was developing differentially across various cognitive domains —
speech racing ahead of activities such as mark-making, the latter of which was still
striving towards symbolic realisation but nevertheless remained constrained by
functional evolutionary processes to do with the visual cortex. Moreover, simply to
regard early geometric marks as somehow mysteriously symbolic ignores the fact that
before symbolic representation could come about a stage of pictorial representation
had, essentially, to be transcended. Hominids before the U. P. did, it would appear,
have a capacity for symbolic behaviour — evidence suggests this ability was already
present in speech — but that this was not yet present in graphic depiction.
Why should early mark-making be devoid of meaning in contrast to spoken language
at this time? The answer may reside in the fact that as the development of speech
would have been contingent on a separately functioning cortical mechanism to that of
artistic competence (Gazzaniga 1970), it is possible, from the outset, the two abilities
developed independently. It is logical for vocalisation to have evolved first as this
function would most likely have been primed earlier by social demands, or the need
for communication in the making and using of tools.
Gombrich (1977) makes the point that art evolves through a process whereby ‘making
comes before matching’, in other words, the previously learned ways of depiction in
the plastic arts are generally improved upon by later practitioners — a process he sees
as equally applicable to the realisation of representation in Palaeolithic art after a
protracted period of image making (Gombrich 1977: 91-3). Through this means an
increasingly elaborate array of graphic devices came to construct the illusion of three-
dimensions on a two-dimensional surface as a capacity with discrete rules of
engagement to that of speech. This segregation becomes more apparent when it is
realised that it had taken modern humans some ten thousand years, from the
Mesolithic period to the Renaissance, to discover the laws of linear perspective
despite a sophisticated language competence in vocal and written form together with
an elaborate conceptual ability. How much more formidable would it have, thereby,
turned out to be for early humans to achieve iconic representation on a two-
dimensional surface? Arguably a greater achievement than the discovery of
perspective! If Renaissance man had found it so difficult to master such laws with a
sophisticated language facility long intact it, then, follows that for early humans the
trick of representation would have been equally, if not more, problematic and possible
only through an appeal to the modus operandi of graphic depiction.
Speech, art, brain size and information
The suggestion that the early geometric art of the L./M. P. is mediated by innately
defined mechanisms can be regarded as analogous to Chomsky’s theory of language
whereby a deep, hard-wired structure is deemed to underlie the more overt, surface
structure — which ultimately dictates the language a child will speak (Chomsky 1957:
234; similarly, most linguists would accept that an infant’s spontaneous ‘meaningless’
babble constitutes a crucial part of later language development — Weir 1962;
Chukovsky 1968; Schwartz 1980; Bee 1992: 298-9). Here, Pinker (1994: 223) has
proposed not only that some important aspects of speech vocalisation are contingent
on simple mechanisms which antedate more sophisticated, culturally-dependent
elements, such as grammar, but, in addition, evolution, having established the basic
computational units of language as innate, may have, finally, seen no need to replace
every bit of learned information with innate wiring. From the point of view of proto-art
this can be translated into innately-conditioned, abstract marks produced during the
L.P. as ‘hard-wired’, in the sense that they mirror the functioning of the visual cortex
(in the same way as the first utterances of vocalisation are hard-wired), while the
representational art of later cultural periods (corresponding to specific grammatical
rules of language) can be interpreted as the ‘surface structure’.
Although there may appear to be certain parallels common to the functioning of art
and speech this does not imply that, initially, there was any synthesis of modal
functions, as a slowly evolving account would imply that separate channels merge
incrementally — given favourable circumstances and the particular level of
development inherent to each modality. Surprisingly, Chomsky (1988) does not
subscribe to a gradualist evolutionary model of speech and, in this respect, the
proposition of Davidson and Noble (1989) that language came about through the
agency of artistic expression and, hence, art had to predate language — although
sympathetic to Chomsky’s ‘threshold’ approach — cannot be supported here, as
language is also taken to be incremental. The step-by-step growth in brain size over
the past two million years (which strengthens the gradualist case) can, according to
Leakey (1994: 128), be related to a language facility, and Pinker (1994) has amassed a
copious amount of evidence to suggest that spoken language is, indeed, contingent
on the micro-circuitry of the brain moulded by natural selection over a considerable
time span. Anatomical evidence clearly supports this view (Holloway 1983; Laitman
1984; Deacon 1989; Kay et al. 1998). In addition, Deacon (1997) has shown how human
language is different by an order of magnitude to that practised by other species
(whales, monkeys etc.), i.e. abstract symbolic referentiality as opposed to innately
defined iconic/indexical referentiality — which reinforces the case that brain growth in
humans was both contingent on language and such language was originally built on
the foundations of the iconic-indexical axis.
Taking these studies together it seems clear that brain growth would almost certainly
have been mediated by the demands of speech (Jerison 1991). Wills (1993) has
suggested an evolutionary-mediated, culture/brain, feedback loop to explain the
accelerated growth, language playing the key role — although this expansion would,
ultimately, have come to an end due to a naturally-imposed limit. If, therefore, the
human brain, as a metabolically expensive organ, has not increased in size for the
past 500 000 to 350 000 years (Rose 1976: 172; Deacon 1997: 343) (to do with the
demand for oxygen and the neonate’s head size leading to birth difficulties etc.), one
way of circumventing corporeal restrictions would have been to realise, extrinsic to
the brain, those traits which had already conferred selective evolutionary advantage,
i.e. spoken language and the ability to perceive structural form. Speech, having
emerged first as a capacity of the left brain hemisphere, continued to be a
circumscribed, transitory capability tangibly unable to act as a reliable means of
storing and retrieving information. In order to by-pass physical constraints a means of
representing the existing processes of visual perception, as embodied in the visual
cortex, would have been a prerequisite (Davis 1986: 196). Thus, the need for continued
brain growth would have been circumvented through the ‘discovery’ of a means of
holding ‘information’ in a more reliably stable and relatively permanent form (Gregory
1970: 148) providing a kind of surrogate cortex with unlimited capacity. As Gamble
(1993: 168) has indicated, art can act as a sign to chunk enormous amounts of
information into a manageable proportion, hence, in a very practical sense, expanding
memory.
In much the same way as extra modules of the brain had developed by over-laying the
more ancient, deeper, automatic, reflex-oriented levels, so extra modular systems
continued to develop as an increasingly sophisticated way of dealing with incoming
stimuli (Jackson 1932; see Allman 1999 for an updated and more sophisticated
account of this process) and, being modular, infers separate, functional development
of brain structure (Fodor 1983; Hirschfeld and Gelman 1994) and related behavioural
components (Dean 1982; see Pinker 1994: 314-17, who addresses any reservations,
such as Damasio and Damasio’s [1992], concerning this model). This is confirmed by
the asymmetrical nature of the cortex, where the left side is broadly devoted to
language, the right more to artistic expression and visual perception (Solso 1993; Kolb
and Whishaw 1996; Pylshyn 1999; Hollinworth and Henderson 1999). Speech, as a
separate, modular, parallel increment, would have constituted the first stage in a wider
processing of information one step removed from the brain. The initial scratch marks
made by early humans can be interpreted as an extension of this quest, still mediated,
but not wholly bound to the brain, i.e. the beginning of a search for order and structure
as a reflection of the neurological patterns on which the human cortex had previously
depended for survival in the face of a hostile world. As with language (Pinker 1994), an
emerging depictive function can, then, be seen as having arisen out of a similar
adaptive striving.
To summarise, as evidence from brain morphology seems to suggest that speech
developed significantly ahead of, and separate to, depictive modes, it appears highly
unlikely that symbolic meaning would have been accorded to abstract, graphic
schema until this schema had evolved into representational forms during the U. P.
Speech as a first decisive step towards a pro-active concern with information
processing would have had inherent practical limitations, to do with its temporal or
transitory nature, further restricted by a naturally imposed ceiling on brain expansion.
Only ‘art’ as an important alternative mode was able to take up, at this point, the reins
in the form of an aide memoire par excellence.
Evolutionary mechanisms in early art: play, curiosity, arousal and a two-construct aesthetic
factor
The question remains, however, what was the precise nature of the underlying
mechanism which had led Homo to first begin ‘experimenting’ with form and line if
meaning or symbol initially played no part? Evolution, as Dawkins (1991: 72) has
explained, has no end-purpose or distant goals in mind, rather it works on the basis of
anything that would improve the chance of individual survival.
For early humans, time devoted to mark-making is apportioned at the expense of some
other important preoccupation, e.g. the gathering of food, provision of shelter, mating
rituals etc., which suggests art must have had some decisive value in the game of
survival (Conkey 1978). But this begs the question of how art can be translated into a
motivational drive determining mark-making in hominids. Only by looking at the
principle of how ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny can some clues be gained (for a
more recent, updated version of this principle see McNamara 1999).
Play has been proposed as being: biologically important (Groos — see Millar 1968: 19-
20), a risk-free learning strategy (Boulton and Smith 1992), exploratory behaviour as a
function of increased arousal and energy levels (Loizos 1967: 193-204; Piaget 1963),
and independent of any external reward (Harlow et al. 1950; Morris 1967). This activity,
in infants (and by implication early humans), would have been elicited in the same way
as Berlyne (1970, 1971) has proposed in demonstrating how art elevates pleasure by
acting on arousal. Arousal is induced in two ways, moderately through the use of
familiar, regular patterns, such as ones high in symmetry, or sharply through the use
of patterns high in novelty, surprise, or complexity which cannot be immediately
assimilated. Further evidence for an ‘aesthetic’ factor of this kind and at this level
comes from Götz et al. (1979) and Iwawaki et al. (1979) where subjects, asked to
choose the better Gestalt from a set of two designs, preferred the more regular and
symmetrical. The high degree of consistency found in this study proved to be
independent of sex, intelligence, personality and culture. Similarly, young children
have been found to prefer those elementary geometric figures manifesting greater
symmetry and simplicity (Brody 1970; Brighouse 1939). Kagan (1970) has, in addition,
discovered that once infants have become familiar with a particular pattern they go on
to prefer those which are moderately different rather than the same or radically
different, suggesting an incremental process congruent with a gradualist, evolutionary
scenario.
Such studies confirm the existence of a two-factor construct of artistic arousal, where
simple lines can be regarded as a forerunner to more complex features. The
development of graphic, depictive strategies in infants and early humans is, thereby,
construed as a corollary of this two-factor perceptual process to which play and an
insatiable curiosity are closely linked. For early humans and infants, simple pattern,
although elemental, would have represented, at first, a kind of novelty which, in turn,
became an accepted schema on which later more complex graphic elements came to
be based. For children, the playing with sounds in learning the rudiments of speech or
the making of the first marks and scribbles on the way to representational drawing is a
recapitulation of how early humans first began to ‘play’ (by recourse to an incorrigible
curiosity) with sounds and graphic primitives as a species-specific means of
maximising the chances of survival by inventing communicative and perceptually-
mediated analytical strategies to contain environmental threat through the control and
manipulation of information.
This may well have been instigated in hominids by the biological need to seek out
different or alternative kinds of stimulation to the norm as more time became available
due to greater tool efficiency (see White 1959, and Berlyne 1971, for an explanation of
the effects of inactivity on arousal). Appositely, Getzels and Csikszentmihalyi (1976)
concluded that the artist, as a problem-solver, epitomises the stimulus-seeking
individual — in this guise an ‘artist’ would have been a valuable asset to any hunter-
gatherer community.
The important question of why early humans should have resorted to producing crude
scratches and lines cannot be fully answered by simply implicating an incorrigible
curiosity, although this may be part of the answer. The question can only be
addressed when it is realised that it was a curiosity driven by the fact that the
repetition of a simple line would have been evoking that part of the visual cortex (in
much the same way as Mach has suggested), which had previously allowed Homo to
see the continuity and pattern in the world at large and had led to the greater survival
of those individuals capable of this aspect of perception. Perhaps the gene cluster
responsible for particular aspects of the structure of the visual cortex, due to subtle,
individual modifications and mutations, had led, over time, to the selection of more
elaborate ways for the analysis of pattern. Stimulation of this function through mark-
making, in addition to being a means of sharpening and honing important perceptual
skills through better eye-hand co-ordination and visual memory, may also have been a
way of increasing awareness to environmental signals with accordingly greater
survival rates for those so disposed.
PART II
COMPARATIVE ANALYSIS OF EARLY MARKS AND SOME NEUROPHYSIOLOGICAL
IMPLICATIONS
Gestalt theory, infants’ early drawings and Palaeolithic abstract marks
Gestalt theory comes half-way between Direct Registration (Gibson 1950, 1979) and
Constructivist theory (Helmholtz 1867; Gregory 1970: 10-14). Direct Registration and
Constructivist approaches tend to emphasise a particular aspect of the perceptual
process, the sufficiency of the information already present in the visual world (bottom-
up) and the importance of higher-order interpretation of ambiguous perceptual stimuli
(top down) respectively. Each theory, in attempting to account for the total range of
visual experience has, hence, sought to exclude possible alternative explanations. In
reality, all three approaches probably have something to say about the perceptual
processes pertaining (Neisser 1976: 53; Treisman 1986), the disagreement simply
reflecting the dynamic which exists between bottom-up and top-down stances. While
agreeing that optical information is transformed in some way but at the same time
denying that raw visual information is adequate to meet all perceptual demands, the
Gestalt approach, as midway between the two positions, seeks to explain perceptual
phenomena by recourse to such factors as the law of good continuation, simplicity,
closure etc. In the present context, Gestalt theory is regarded as more applicable to
how the neurones in the visual cortex are organised as an important stage post in the
processing of one component of incoming visual stimuli rather than as a sufficient
account of all aspects — more directly, as an expression of how patterns emerge in
the neuronal system at the pre-attentive level of the striate cortex. Primitive marks
then become the starting point for the assignment of form according to Gestalt
principles in the same way that the combining of such primitives into basic form may
well take place at the level of the striate cortex (see below).
Kellogg (1979: 14-15) states: ‘The fact that children’s art can be categorised for
similarities of Gestalt formations means that they are reflections of mental and
physical processes common to the species’. This universality, Kellogg goes on to
suggest, is also apparent in the spontaneous basic configurations which appear
between the ages of two to three years in infants’ drawings (Kellogg 1969: 220, 235) —
although this scheme has not gone unchallenged (Golomb 1981; Cox 1993). Moreover,
Kellogg regards the development of infant art as paralleling the development of vision
(1969: 260), and makes a direct comparison between abstract U. P. forms and similar
forms which she had identified in infants’ pre-representational art (1969: 217). Given
this correspondence what, then, are the implications for a similar positive correlation
involving L./M. P. abstract marks?
Direct comparisons between early mark-making in the Lower and Middle Palaeolithic, early
infant art and phosphene primitives
From the age of eighteen months to three years the developmental sequence of
infants’ drawings, according to Kellogg, is as follows: the meandering, scribbled line,
as the first graphic element to be explored by infants, is, by approximation, placed
ever more carefully within the borders of the rectangular paper resulting in the
emergence of basic geometric forms, such as a scribbled circle, rectangle or triangle.
Initially, it is difficult to distinguish any form from the indiscriminate array but,
eventually, shapes based upon, for example, the circle, become increasingly oval or
elliptical. By two and half to three years of age children begin to draw with a single
outline the latent shapes inherent in the drawing instead of just filling-in each existing
form with further scribbling. Six recurring ‘diagrams’ were found to arise as a
consequence: circles/ovals, squares and rectangles, triangles, crosses and an
irregular odd shape — although Gestaltists, like Arnheim (1974), regard the circle as
being one of the first shapes to emerge because this could be due to the ease by
which the form can be realised in terms of gross motor control (Piaget and Inhelder
1956). The child next begins to play with the vocabulary of discovered forms, first a
square, then a triangle, then a patch filled with colour, then a series of dots, for long
periods at a time without any prompting. Afterwards, children begin to incorporate two
diagrams, producing ‘combines’ where a cross is conjoined with a circle, rectangle or
square, to produce a ‘mandala’ (e.g. Figure 1 [16E]). This is regarded as a crucial stage
in the transition from ‘scribble’ to representation. Soon afterwards the mandala
becomes a more complex form known as an ‘aggregate’, where the child adds further
crosses so the circle appears like a wheel with spokes; other similar configurations
are created by a juxtaposition of lines, circles and rectangles to produce six basic
shapes. The ‘spokes’ then begin to radiate out from the circle. By limiting the number
of radiating lines and adding two ‘eyes’ the child can turn the form into a tadpole
figure as the first representation of a head (or head and body combined). The
development of other schemas — animals, buildings etc. — are explained in similar
terms by highlighting the origins of a prior invented graphic repertoire (Kellogg 1969).
Children rarely depict representational forms by the age of three.
The development of drawing in this manner can be viewed (following Arnheim 1974) as
congruent with the tendency of mark-making to proceed from simple, global forms to
complex, more differentiated ones. This is in keeping with the fact that most
psychological development, including perception in infants (Slater 1996), evolves from
global to differentiated structures.
It has been found that primates such as chimpanzees (Morris 1967) produce paintings
with a striking similarity to drawings made by children at the early stages (this
similarity adds weight to the evolutionary paradigm of mark-making). Both create
vertical, horizontal and curved lines as well as dots. Chimps follow this sequence up
to the diagram stage but produce only the circle and cross compared to the six basic
forms of infants. One of the major forms the chimp was unable to master was the
square, as well as being incapable of any representational depiction.
Given the transitional graphic sequence of infant’s drawings, how does this compare
with marks made in the L./M. P. by early humans? Figure 1 illustrates some of the
scribble and geometric primitives commonly employed by infants from eighteen
months onwards, as identified by Kellogg (1969), together with concomitant L./M. P.
marks. The similarity of many of the forms is immediately obvious, including
phosphene primitives, the significance of which will be discussed more fully in the
following section. We can now explore in greater detail the extent and ramifications of
any positive comparisons arising.
One of the earliest instances of marks made by early humans comes from the
Auditorium Cave, Bhimbetka, India, dating back several hundred thousand years
(Bednarik 1993, 1994a), namely a petroglyph in the shape of a large cup mark, or
cupule (Figure 1 [11A]), which will be discussed presently, and a pecked meandering
line (1A). Meandering lines, in the form of digitally made marks, can be found in rock
art throughout the world and are thought to be Pleistocene and among the most
ancient, predating later forms and iconic representation (Bednarik 1984; Bahn and
Vertut 1997: 106). A meandering line, it can be seen, has distinct similarities with the
first scribbles made by infants of eighteen months (Fig. 1 [1D]). There are also obvious
commonalities between the irregular shape of this line and the two phosphenes
illustrated (lB and 1C). Other marks dating c. 350 000 years ago from Steinrinne,
Bilzingsleben, Germany, on non-utilitarian elephant bones (Bednarik 1995a), seem to
be patterned with vertical (2A), horizontal (3A), diagonal (4A), and fan-shaped incisions
(5A) (the latter coming from Stránská Skála, Czech Republic, on an elephant vertebra),
which can be favourably compared to concomitant lines made by infants and with
related phosphenes. Repetition of a particular line direction seems to be a key feature
of such marks, fan-shaped lines being a resume of what had previously been
achieved. A similar development in infants is highlighted in 2D Y 5D where the
explored directionality of line is unified to create a fused, fan-shaped,
scribble/combine form (fan-shapes are another common feature in the paintings of
chimps; Morris 1967). L./M. P. radiation lines have also been unearthed engraved upon
a modified phalanx (finger bone), horse canine and bone splinters from the Micoquian
of Prolom (Bednarik 1995a: 609-10). Support for such lines being the beginning of an
informational search comes from Arnheim and Booth (Goodnow 1977: 35, 40) who
suggest a line provides, as one of the first marks to be discovered, a way of
expressing order through repetition. Arnheim (1971) also proposed that an economical
use of shape can establish a bit of order in a world of complexity and what appears at
first sight to be a limited vocabulary of units may, in the discovery of similarity,
represent a strength.
Abri Lartet (Bednarik 1995a: 627) has provided a series of three attempted, acute-angle
forms dating from the M. P. (6A) which can be positively correlated with associated
phosphene (6C) and infant scribble/emerging combine (6D). The ubiquitousness of
chevron-like forms, e.g. at Bacho Kiro, Bulgaria, on a M. P. bone fragment (Marshack
1976), highlights the preoccupation with the attempted depiction of angle (Morris 1967
also reports a zigzag line in chimps, although rare). Motifs 7A, 8A, 9A and 10A are non-
utilitarian markings from Bilzingsleben, Germany (c. 350 000 BP), on: a split elephant
tusk, elephant bone, quartzite slab and metatarsal bone, respectively, all L. P.
(Bednarik 1995a). Motif 7A seems to be half-way between an arc and angle form, the
important feature being the nesting of one form within another as also in the
accompanying phosphenes and infant emergent combine (7D/ 7E). In Kellogg’s terms
these figures would be a demonstration of good visual balance, which would explain
the repetition found in the marks of children and early humans. Similar, but more
curved, paired lines have been found (13A) (Bahn 1998: 162) in Australia from
Panaramitee North, dating back approximately 43 140 BP, which clearly exhibit
attempted repetition. Repetition is one step on from simple doodling and the straight
line indicative of a definite graphic progression, and anticipates Kellogg’s
combine/diagram stages. Motif 8A is a further step on the way to repetitive angles as
well as being an attempt to integrate each form into a pattern with longer, continuous,
straight lines. The source of this kind of figure may derive from the fortification
phosphene illustrated in 8C — note also the chevrons in this illustration. Such
patterning demonstrates the groping towards a compounding of angled and straight
lines. Motif 9A (engraved on a quartzite slab from Bilzingsleben, Germany; Bednarik
1995a) represents a preliminary attempt at realising a rectangle, corners seeming to
have been a significant problem — while 10A (engraved on a metatarsal bone also
from Bilzingsleben, Germany; Bednarik 1995a) marks a more successful integration of
this form, where the obvious experimentation with angle and corner has resulted in the
portrayal of a complete figure. Motif 10A is particularly significant, because not only
are right angles successfully depicted for the first time, but the process by which this
has been achieved is graphically portrayed in the struggle to create the right-angle at
the bottom left and the incorporation into the design of a series of horizontal, vertical,
and sloping lines, cross and chevron shapes — important prerequisites before an
integrated square can be achieved. It is as if the author has summarised graphically all
previous achievements to date (1A to 9A) before creating a fully-fledged rectangle, the
lines, with practice, becoming more parallel and perpendicular, and the angles
sharper. Motifs 9D / 9E and 10D/10E present a neat synopsis of how the infant attains
the equivalent form, where early squares may resemble circles as in 9D (Gardner 1980:
42).
A corresponding evolutionary process of combining previously attained forms can be
observed in boxes 11A to 16A using curved lines — in this case, however, the
culminating figure, 16A, is a circular mandala. Motif 11A is a large cupule from
Auditorium Cave, Bhimbetka, India, of the Acheulian and estimated to be a few
hundred thousand years old (Bednarik 1993, 1994a). The cupule (11A) correlates
positively with circular scribbles 11D and diagram circular form 11E made by infants,
as well as with phosphenes 11B and 11C. Panel 12A, from a Neanderthal M. P. burial
site (Bednarik 1995a) and 13A, from Panaramitee, Australia (c. 43 140 BP) (Bahn 1998:
162), show the same inclination towards repetition as with straight lines, and probably
repeated for the same reasons already cited (a series of intentionally engraved,
connected double arcs have also been found on a bovine rib from Le Pech de l’Azé,
Dordogne, c. 300 000 BP; Bahn 1997: 24). Also from South Australia (Wharton Hill, c.
42 000 yrs; Bahn 1998: 162), comes an oval shape (14A), an infant motif which follows
that of the circle (Gardner 1980: 42). The markings on the Quneitra artefact (15A)
(Marshack 1996: 357), a flat cortex plate from the Levant, incised with four nested
semicircles surrounded by vertical lines (about 54 000 BP), is evidence of the
importance directed towards exploring the possibilities of the curved line. Of particular
interest in this figure is the fact that the curved lines are made up from a series of
straight lines knitted together to create the curved form. This simulates perfectly the
way in which the striate cortex (see below), according to the Gestalt principle of good
continuation, can allow for the construction of geometric forms from simple lines —
the perception of straight lines is mapped by striate neurones in revolving order of
orientation in exactly the same manner as in the circular motif inscribed on this
artefact (for a more detailed discussion of the neurophysiological processes involved
see Gilbert 1998; also Eysel 1999, and Siegel 1977: 131 for summaries). The similarity
of this artefact with the infant combine is clear (14D / 14E).
Finally the geometric figure from Tata, Hungary (16A): a silicified semi-transparent
nummulite has a crack through the centre visible on both sides and, at right angle, a
single engraved line on each face (Bednarik 1995a: 612), constituting the first known
example of how a circular and straight line form are arranged together to produce a
fully balanced figure. This, perhaps, represents a defining stage in the bringing
together of two distinct graphic primitives — an important landmark in the evolution of
graphic schema. Bednarik (1995a: 614) sees the realisation of this form as part of a
continuity from the L. P. to the M. P., i.e. from the unstructured to the structured, just
as Kellogg finds the same form (16E) equally significant for infants reflecting the
tendency of perceptual development to evolve from the global to the particular. A
similar progression can be seen in some South Australian caves, e.g. Karlie-ngoinpool
and Koorine Caves, where more than thirty-five contain nonfigurative markings made
by humans embodying three distinct artistic traditions (Aslin and Bednarik 1984a,
1984b; Aslin et al. 1985). The first stage consists of digital flutings, which seem to
follow the contours of the wall; the second is dominated by engraved circles which are
either simple, concentric or divided by lines; and lastly, the more recent manifestation
of engraved lines of various forms.
All the marks from the L. P. and M. P. can be found either in the early marks of infants,
up to and including the combine stage, or phosphene types. The gradual evolution of
graphic primitives as an explanation has the advantage of being testable, the model
allowing us to predict that the present gaps in the record, particularly between the
combine/aggregate stage and representational stage, will be made up of further
combines as well as subsequent aggregates similar to those produced by infants. A
later incarnation of such combines and aggregates (commonly found in much of the
later rock art of the U. P., such as grids, crosses, triangular forms and other abstract
shapes, e.g. the grids of Altamira and La Mouthe, Dordogne, the cross of Castillo,
Santander), parallels the same way as children, well into the representational stage,
harken back, from time to time, to earlier stages producing various comparable,
geometric designs (Golomb 1981). Following the parallel with infant markings this can
provide important clues as to the nature of the aggregates which might exist as part of
the missing link between M. P. and U. P. art. In addition, we should expect to see a
divergence in similarity between the pre- and early representational forms of children
and early humans as higher-order, culturally derived factors begin to impinge on
recognisable iconic form. At the same time it should not be forgotten that the
preoccupation of U. P. artists with representational depiction, by the use of outline
rather than filling-in (Halverson 1992), is also a dominant aspect of children’s art —
something which seems to be sufficient to meet the yearning for representation.
If a computer database could be devised documenting a complete existing inventory
of early mark-making and representational imagery according to date, and keeping in
mind how evolution can evolve haphazardly (but still in one direction), the model
allows us to make the further prediction that there would be a gradual drift toward
complexity beginning with the earliest, simple marks of the L. P. through to the
appearance of diagrams, then combines/aggregates, followed by simple abbreviated
and attenuated representational outline forms (as Davis [1986: 184] proposes) to full
naturalistic outline representation, finally culminating in representation of the U. P.,
complete with colour and textural highlights. Figure 1 already gives some clues as to
the nature of this ‘drift’ with a steady increase in complexity from the L. P. to M. P.,
concordant with infant mark-making.
The fact that marks found in the archaeological record are not specific to one site but
from many widespread and varying locations and distributed over long periods of time
(Bednarik 1995a: 614) is hardly surprising given the existence of a possible universal,
predisposing factor. This, together with the close similarity between the early art of
infants and L./M. P. art, leads to the visual cortex (Bednarik 1984: 28) and, more
specifically, the striate cortex as the one mechanism which can account for this
commonality. Before examining more precisely the nature of this mechanism for
understanding the emergence of art I will first cite some further evidence alluding to
this part of the brain as the possible critical locus for early mark-making.
Phosphene Theory and the visual cortex
Bednarik (1984, 1990) has proposed the phosphene theory as an adequate explanation
of L./M. P. art. Phosphenes have also been implicated as the underlying factor in
geometric primitive art by Siegel (1977: 131-2) and the abstract form of Neolithic art by
Kellogg (Kellogg et al. 1965). One aspect of the manifestation of phosphenes is the
claim that they derive from shamanistic practices involving drug-induced trance states
(Lewis-Williams and Dowson 1988; Dronfield 1996) and, it is claimed, representational
features arise out of geometric primitives in three stages (Lewis-Williams and Dowson
1988: 203-4; Siegel 1977: 125, 127, 130).
The shamanistic theory has been criticised by Bednarik (1990) who regards such an
interpretation as untenable as cultures which are not shamanistic, or do not resort to
hallucinatory derived experiences, are also found to have phosphenes in their art
(1990: 79). Like Kellogg et al. (1965), Bednarik believes phosphenes are a fundamental
universal of early art (1990: 77), all humans experience them (even blind people) but
more particularly infants (Bednarik 1990: 78).
Appeal to the central nervous system or visual cortex as a common cause in the
manifestation of phosphenes seems to be understood (Siegel 1977:132; Kellogg et al.
1965: 1130; Bednarik 1990: 78; Lewis-Williams and Dowson 1988: 202). More
specifically, Knoll and Kugler (1959) and Penfield and Roberts (1959) found
phosphenes arising when either the temporal part of the brain or the visual cortex was
directly stimulated by electrical impulses.
Further evidence that the visual cortex may be the focal area for phosphene
experience comes from migraine sufferers. Siegel et al. (1975), in keeping with Gestalt
theory, suggest that geometric forms derived from visual images of those suffering
migraine attacks provide information on the lattice arrangements of detector cells in
the visual cortex.
More specifically, Dobelle and Mladejovski, in developing an artificial aid to help the
blind report that only stimulation of the striate cortex (1974: 559-60) in conscious
patients produced phosphenes (either round or short line shapes; Dobelle and
Mladejovski 1974: 567), and Brindley and Lewin (1968) found simultaneous stimulation
of the same area by several electrodes led to the perception of various predictable
patterns. Dobelle et al. (1976) also report a prosthesis, consisting of electrodes
inserted into the striate cortex connected to a TV camera, which allowed a blind
person to detect horizontal and vertical lines so they were able to recognise simple
letters and patterns (Dobelle et al. 1976: 111). Importantly, it has also been established
that damage to the striate cortex leads to an inability of those affected to copy the
simplest geometric forms; moreover, and inversely, in cases where the striate cortex
remains intact, but there has been a lesion to other areas of the visual cortex, the
subject is able to draw local elements of form such as angles, simple lines and shapes
but is unable to integrate such lines into a complex whole (Zeki 1992: 48-9).
The one unifying thread linking the different accounts as to how phosphenes arise
seems to be the striate cortex — whether deriving from the trance states of
shamanism, drug-induced hallucinations, migraine attacks or electrophysical
intervention etc., each can be viewed as a different route towards the inducement of
phosphene primitives as indicative of the structure of this mechanism. Ultimately,
phosphenes can be seen as being derived from the underlying neuronal architecture
of the striate cortex from which, in turn, phosphene-like marks can be evoked through
various means. In this model shamanism can only account for a limited number of
cases while phosphene theory is able to embrace a wider spectrum of instances.
Significantly, however, as Bahn and Vertut (1997: 182) have indicated, the very act of
engaging in mark-making may serve to induce a hyper-reality experience and in this
sense it is an activity which can be said to ‘resonate’ with the striate cortex, therefore,
providing a further, alternative but inclusive, explanation for the appearance of L./M. P.
phosphene-like motifs.
The neurophysiological evidence already presented, together with the correspondence
between phosphenes, L./M. P. and infant art, as highlighted in Figure 1, suggests that
the striate cortex is the common, predisposing, neurophysiological factor. In support
of this hypothesis further neurological studies will now be considered.
The importance of lines and the striate cortex
Latto (1995: 67-8) stresses, as Gombrich does (1973: 201), the way artistic primitive
motifs are aesthetically interesting, not because they reflect properties of the world,
but, rather, because they simulate properties of the visual system (see also Bednarik
1984; Halverson 1992; Solso 1993: 49, for earlier expressions of this idea). The obvious
question arises; how is this realised in the visual system?
The striate cortex (also known as the primary visual cortex, area V1 and Brodmann’s
Area 17) in primates plays a critical role in visual information processing, as most
visual information reaching the rest of the visual cortex is funnelled through this area
(Felleman and Van Essen 1991). This ‘gatekeeper’ role may account for the area being
the largest known visual cortical area, if not the largest cortical area (Tootell et al.
1998), thereby underlining its importance. The significance of the striate cortex is
further highlighted by Hubel and Wiesal’s discovery that cells in the striate cortex are
organised to respond to specific orientation of line and that perception may be
fabricated from the accretion of selected features (Hubel and Wiesal 1979). Tootell et
al. (1998) also confirmed, by functional analysis of the striate cortex using Magnetic
Resonance Imaging (MRI), that this area has lower contrast sensitivity, i.e. it is more
sensitive to visual phenomena such as lines, as well as being orientation selective
(1998: 815-16).
Hubel and Wiesal go on to describe how the striate cortex may represent an early
stage in the brain’s analysis of line orientation and an important aspect of the
processing of visual information through recourse to a hierarchy of simple, complex
and hypercomplex cells by which the nature of information to do with line becomes
more abstract — this may be a continuation of a process that begins in the retina
which leads to a successive enhancement of contoured borders (Jung and
Baumgartner 1965). Barlow’s (1972) feature detection theory is an extension of Hubel
and Wiesal’s analysis, which proposes that cortical cells forming the bottom layer of a
hierarchy of cells respond progressively to more and more abstract geometric
features. Hence, cells in higher layers could respond to simple, geometrical patterns,
such as angles, defined by the activities of particular combinations of complex and
hypercomplex cells, leading to the perception of yet more complex features, such as
rectangles and circles, and so on right up to representational figures. It should be
remembered, however, that this is a simplification of an extremely intricate process
which is still not fully understood.
Another aspect of visual processing relevant to the origins of art at this level is the
separate, but parallel, processing of different kinds of visual information (Livingstone
and Hubel 1987), which becomes more specialised on reaching the striate cortex,
dividing it into three channels as opposed to the previous two originating from the
eye. It appears that early humans, in making the first marks, may have been extracting
one particularly significant aspect of the optical array for possible exploitation,
beginning, as in vision, with the analysis of parts of form in terms of line and line
orientation (Hubel and Weisal 1979: 36-7). The artists of the L./M. P. were, therefore,
probably appealing to this evolutionary earlier, colour-blind system as a visual
channel (known as the magno system), that is concerned with, amongst other things,
decisions involving which visual elements, such as figure/ground, discontinuities or
edges belong to individual objects in the scene as specified by Gestalt theory
(Livingstone and Hubel 1995: 61-4). This system operates in tandem with the ‘parvo-
interblob’ pathway, which deals with the high resolution of detail found in static form
(the parvo-interblob pathway is thought to have originally evolved out of the magno
system; Livingstone and Hubel 1995: 64). The perception and analysis of form, which
these pathways seem especially suited to deal with, is a critical visual imperative that
would, over time, have been specifically selected for by way of evolutionary dictates,
e.g. in the detection of concealed, stationary and camouflaged fauna as either
threatening, benign or as a possible food source.
Marr (1976) has demonstrated how a visual processing model (leading to what he calls
the ‘raw primal sketch’), beginning with the extraction of essential edge features as
necessary components of a line drawing, can account for why such drawings are so
efficient in depicting representation or carry so much information with such great
economy. It is interesting, in this respect, that Marr’s ideas made extensive use of
Gestalt principles of perceptual organisation where discrete elements are deemed
more likely to belong together which present a similar orientation, or lie next to one
another, than those oriented dissimilarly and spaced far apart (Bruce and Green 1990).
Evidence points to the fact that line drawings are universally exploited as a shortcut to
representation as exemplified by infants and both ‘primitive’ and modern artists
(Kennedy and Silver 1974; Latto 1995). This can explain why early humans began,
preferentially, with an investigation of the possibilities inherent in the use of line
leading to the artistic equivalent of Marr’s ‘raw primal sketch’, culminating in the
animal outline figures of the U. P. (Halverson 1992: 389, 402). Thus, different aspects of
a painting are processed by different regions of the visual cortex (Livingstone 1988;
Zeki 1993: 355), with the analysis of line in the striate cortex being of primary
significance.
Zeki (1993), it should be added, has also identified discrete cells in the visual cortex
(V4) beyond the striate cortex responsible for the analysis of colour. The additional
colour dimension lent to the image by U. P. artists may, accordingly, also be a
simulation of the segregation of visual processing in the visual cortex, which parallels
the more recent evolution-formed ‘parvo-blob’/ V4 stream concerning the analysis of
the visual array in terms of this further attribute (Livingstone and Hubel 1995: 63).
In brief, this research provides added substance to the striate cortex as the seat of the
phosphene/artistic, primitive forms, and suggests, as a graphic component, line, by
way of this mechanism, was the first to be exploited during the L./M. P., as a precursor
to representational line drawings. A similar drive towards representation is also
present in infant mark-making and reflects the perceptual stages through which the
neonate passes on the way to making visual sense of the world. Vertical, horizontal,
tilted, circular and lattice lines would have been graphic elements indicative of this
early visual information processing, the mandala being especially significant,
embodying, in one figure, the various features involved. Subsequent fully-fledged
coloured paintings appeared in the U. P. as a derivative of a separate, more recently
evolved, but parallel, visual channel. Figure 2 summarises all the major factors
identified suggesting the striate cortex as common cause, as well as possible
interrelationships.
PART III
ART AS INFORMATION PROCESSING
Incremental trends and common trajectories
Figure 3 sets out the proposed information-processing model illustrating how early art
may have played a pivotal role. It delineates the evolution of graphic form as well as
how the increasing drive towards the processing of information was incremental and,
at significant points, cross-referenced, or cross-fertilised, with other previous, parallel
modes. Each cross-fertilisation can be seen to have led to a significant step forward in
the creation of more efficient and different ways of dealing with information. Dennett
(1995) might describe this cultural development as analogous to a ‘crane-making
crane’. In this respect it can be seen that once abstract marks had spawned
representational art such marks continued to proliferate along a separate trajectory
and, in so doing, became more refined leading, eventually, to the repeated geometric
decoration common to nearly all later cultures. More specifically, the first graphic lines
fingered into soft surfaces, carved and scratched onto crude tools, bone objects and
stones would have provided the foundations for the later representation of fauna on
cave walls as well as, through the use of graphic combines and aggregates, the purely
decorative abstract forms found widely in much later so-called ‘primitive’ art. A
transitional aggregate or combine leading to this fully integrated decorative realisation
is apparent in the widespread manifestation of various geometric forms during the U.
P. and, as already cited, is a phenomenon which continues to perplex many
commentators. It can be argued that such abstract motifs, typical of this later period,
are a retracing of familiar, but earlier, geometric forms (see above). Trajectories for
other traditions and significant dates can, likewise, be traced according to the model,
each cross-fertilisation leading to increasingly powerful and efficient ways of dealing
with information.
More speculatively, separate linear traditions involving later amalgamations with other
lineages may well be a simulation of the strategy of functional specialisation of the
brain as a means of acquiring an understanding of the permanent properties of the
world. Although this functionality solved one set of problems, new ones arose,
concerning how separately evolved mechanisms were to be synthesised in order to
analyse different kinds of perceptual information. The hypothesised association
cortex, as a necessary interface, may correspond to how separate traditions of overt
information-processing have gradually cross-referenced to produce more efficient,
and effective, cross-modal analytical strategies (e. g. Humphreys et al. 1988), rather
than as a consequence of some sudden mysterious process taking place in the brain
during the U./M. P. transition (e.g. Mithen 1996).
The question concerning why sculptural objects have tended to predate graphic
representation can be adequately embraced according to this model by the fact that
three-dimensional objects were probably easier to fabricate than the more
sophisticated representation of three dimensions in a two-dimensional format,
sculpture having arisen directly out of the more ancient tradition of tool making
(Halverson 1987: 66; White 1989: 80; Feliks 1998a: 113-6). Indeed, even before the first
fully sculptural object was created there would probably have been a long period of
passive appreciation of naturally occurring artefacts as proposed by Bahn and Vertut
(1997: 23). Hence, sculptural and graphic traditions, it would seem, developed
separately, but in parallel, the more advanced sculptural tradition reaching
representational maturity before graphic representation, as implied by the
archaeological record (Bahn and Vertut 1997: 100).
The Upper-Middle Palaeolithic ‘transition’ as a product of information processing
The 40 000 BP boundary can, in Figure 3, be seen in the context of an incremental
account and is accommodated by the increasing ability to pass down and disseminate
information, the hypothesised threshold simply being one of several continuing, but
significant steps involved where representation began to cross-reference with spoken
language. Equally significant boundaries can be identified anywhere along the
sequence, e.g. the earliest mark-making, the invention of symbol, the termination of
brain growth. Representational pictures, in this model, would have served as the first,
universal protowriting (Bahn 1998: xxiii-xxiiv), providing a necessary and direct
precursor to written language and graphic symbol (pictograph, hieroglyph and
cuneiform) in much the same way as Gregory (1970: 137, 151) has suggested. Diringer
(1962) postulates that pre-Historic representational art, as a form of embryonic writing,
is equivalent to no more than nouns, i.e. despite the obvious stylistic merit it remains
static and lacks narrative capacity (1962: 27-30); put another way, there is little
relationship between the separately defined representations. This may help to explain
the lack of any discernible order in the placing of images, the phenomenon of
superposition and the scarcity of ‘scenes’. The ability to be able to represent one-to-
one, i.e. the iconic image capturing the essential features of a natural object and the
probable capacity to be able to name such objects, accordingly heralded a significant
stage in the realisation of a symbolic code where ultimately the symbol would become
arbitrary to the referent as had already occurred with speech. The emergence of a
graphic/symbolic means of representing language can be traced from the naturalistic
realism of the U. P., to the increasingly stylised, cartoon-like figures of the Mesolithic
Spanish Levant and the first known pictograph 10 000 BP (Stordeur and Jammous
1995).
Symbolic representation, as a means of preserving, spreading and manipulating
information, provided a powerful way of increasing the capacity of the brain,
disengaged from the usual evolutionary constraints, helping to catapult humans into a
dominance over nature. The Integrated Causal Model insists that the cultural
imperatives deriving from this ability are as much subject to the vagaries of evolution
as anything else (Tooby and Cosmides 1992: 122; Cosmides et al. 1992: 5) but its
proponents fail to realise that culture may embody the way brain potential has been
amplified through the propensity to represent reality symbolically, thereby storing
representations for future analysis, revision and improvement which the cortex, alone,
was unable to achieve. The Integrated Causal Model is correct, however, in drawing
attention to the slow-moving evolutionary and biological constraints to which modern
humans are still largely subject but, in the modified version outlined in Figure 3, the
extrapolation must be that culture is not so much a sophisticated embodiment of
evolutionary imperatives, but a realisation of the diversity due to the increased ability
to process information in abstract ways. The implication is, then, that there is a
disparity between the evolutionary factors to which humans continue to be
biologically subject and the swiftly changing imperatives of culture mediated by ever
more rapid, efficient and varied ways of processing information. It is not so much that
‘culture’ fuels the growth in brain size through a feedback loop as Wills (1993)
suggests, which may well have been the case with early humans (e.g. speech), but that
culture now provides the sustenance through which it can, itself, evolve (it is worth
noting here, that during the past 35 000 years the brain has actually been shrinking in
size [Lewin 1999: 60], which may well be due to the way culture has provided a
‘cushion’ in the face of previous ‘raw’ evolutionary pressures). Symbolic and abstract
modes of expression have, thereby, conferred a substantial measure of independence
to culture which does not reside in any one individual but is a consensus of what
kinds of information are significant and relevant to a society’s improvement or
survival. The specific cultural elements involved Dawkins (1991: 158) has described as
‘memes’.
CONCLUSION
The principles of Darwinian evolution have provided an important means of
comprehending the significance of various types of early graphic form and how they
might relate to other cultural specifics. Together with an appreciation of information
processing in the brain it has helped to elucidate the probable sequential development
of early mark making and how this might be related to different but parallel ways of
encoding the world, e.g. language. Individual modes of information processing,
although initially contingent upon discrete qualities inherent to a particular mode,
throughout the course of time gradually began to integrate by cross-referencing with
other modes, sometimes leading to the inception of new and more efficient ways of
dealing with information. Early geometric marks can be sufficiently explained through
perceptual imperatives involving ecological factors and mechanisms concerning the
striate cortex, thus avoiding accounts involving symbolic explanations. Phosphenes
can also be explained by recourse to the same mechanism and, moreover, the fact that
every early mark reported since the phosphene theory was first mooted is itself a
phosphene motif adds compelling support to the evolutionary hypothesis. Such marks
played an important role in the development of ways of dealing with visual information
by recourse to Gestalt principles creating a platform for the emergence of graphic
representation whereby symbolic interpretations did, eventually, begin to become
relevant.
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank Dorothy Phipps for her support and help in clarifying some of the
issues concerning language and Molly Wood for the many thoughtful comments and
encouragement, as well as Dr M. Ludvigsen for his kind assistance with the numerous
drafts and advice on the compilation of figures. Finally I thank the RAR referees for
their constructive criticisms.
Derek Hodgson
2 Belle Vue Street
York
North Yorks YO10 5AY
England, U.K.
COMMENTS
In science, falsifiability rules
By ROBERT G. BEDNARIK
Derek Hodgson’s paper is one of the most worthwhile additions of recent years to the
discussion of art origins. Like the recent paper by Feliks (1998a), also in this journal, it
enriches a debate that has become bogged down in unfalsifiable, often idiosyncratic
hypotheses about the meanings of palaeoart whose principal feature it is that they are
assumed to appeal to the public. Serious work such as that of Feliks and Hodgson
receives scant attention in this scramble for public favour. Indeed, Hodgson’s paper
illustrates the issue well. It is based largely on a model presented almost twenty years
ago, the phosphene theory. While that theory is perfectly falsifiable and thus scientific,
it has been ignored for all these years, but the competing shamanistic model, which its
originator has freely admitted is profoundly unfalsifiable, has been widely preferred
since it was proposed in 1988. This prompts a simple question: why do untestable
(and, one might add, unlikely) hypotheses receive this favourable treatment in
archaeology, while hypotheses that are fully testable, and that have never been
falsified, are consistently ignored?
Hodgson reminds us that all the hypotheses trying to explain ‘abstract’ marks before
and during the U. P. will not lead to a satisfactory model because they cannot be
substantiated. Or to rephrase this prediction as a scientific proposition: none of the
various ‘interpretations’ we have for this corpus are falsifiable. The phosphene theory,
by contrast, does not ‘explain’ these marks, it merely suggests derivation, but it is
falsifiable and thus scientific. It can be significantly weakened by the discovery of a
major art body of non-phosphenic marks predating the introduction of two-
dimensional iconic art. Until such evidence is presented, the phosphene theory
remains unrefuted. In fact I regard Hodgson’s paper as a testing of my phosphene
theory. He quite correctly points out that that theory made certain predictions: ‘the
model [allows] us to predict that the present gaps in the record ... will be made up of
further combines as well as subsequent aggregates similar to those produced by
infants’. In the present paper he fills some of these gaps. A second way to test the
phosphene theory is, as I have proposed many years ago, to look for disconfirming
evidence, in the form of very early palaeoart that is clearly not phosphene inspired.
The phosphene theory is preferable to the untestable alternatives we have in the
literature, and yet Hodgson’s paper is the first discussion of it to appear in print. As an
epistemologist who is profoundly interested in the heuristic dynamics of the discipline
I welcome the opportunity to comment.
I have bemoaned for a good twenty years the fact that non-iconic palaeoart has been
so severely neglected. The preference for ‘nice pictures’, which has distorted
Pleistocene palaeoart research for a century, is biased, and it should be self-evident
that iconic art is semiotically less sophisticated than non-iconic. In iconic art iconicity
provides an obvious referent, whereas any referent in non-iconic art must be culturally
negotiated and transferred.
Hodgson’s proposition that palaeoart developed as a means of expanding human
cognitive capacities beyond the limits biologically imposed by brain size, functioning
as a kind of surrogate cortex, seems to be a novel and original idea. It likens palaeoart
to back-up storage of computer data: the ceiling in brain size imposed by natal
limitations led to external means of storing data. This is the most exciting twist in
Hodgson’s paper, and it adds a new facet to the phosphene theory. Until now I
favoured the explanation that the discovery of shared phosphenes, through their
externalisation, led to the realisation of a shared consciously experienced reality.
Hodgson’s idea of a ‘surrogate cortex’ offers attractive features and could be explored
further, and it does not exclude the mechanism I had favoured; the two could both be
valid components of an interpretation of art origins tied to the ‘catalyst’ role of the
phosphenes.
An interesting point made by Hodgson is that repetition is appealing to us because it
is an integral feature of the brain, it signifies ‘safe-ness’. This is also worth pursuing
further, because there are ‘elements of repetition’ evident in much if not most early
palaeoart: consider, for instance, multiple parallel lines, finger flutings, concentric
circles, multiple arcs (Quneitra), multiple cupules, paired markings generally, series of
notches, multiple zigzags or meanders, or objects made in large numbers to a single
pattern (e.g. disc beads). This concept offers considerable prospects for further
development: the establishment of synaptic pathways is contingent upon repetition,
as is the production of many early marks. There is a good deal in this paper to prompt
some stagnant synapses in my own cortex to begin firing again.
I am not convinced that Hodgson’s separation of (U. P. and later) ‘art’ from (L./M. P.)
‘proto-art’ serves any useful purpose, it reinforces the artificial discrimination between
non-representational and representational art (are depictions of phosphenes
representational?). Worse still, it emphasises the even more artificial separation of the
M. P. and U. P. (Fiedler 1999; Bednarik and Kuckenburg 1999). Also, it begs the
question, ‘What is art?’, a question archaeologists and art historians have not dealt
with in a scientifically meaningful way (cf. Rosenfeld 1999). I therefore prefer the
collective term palaeoart to describe all art-like phenomena of the past, including
beads, pendants, engraved marks and ‘non-utilitarian’ objects generally.
Concerning an epistemologically anchored definition of art, Hodgson’s preferred
version seems to correspond closely to mine: art is the medium conveying the artist’s
awareness of perceived reality to human sensory perception; it externalises human
concepts of reality. In an epistemologically more satisfying definition, art is the one
phenomenon in human experience of which there can be no crucial common
denominators of phenomenon categories (CCDs) that are inaccessible to humans; art
thus consists of the only collective phenomena which humans can experience
‘objectively’ (Bednarik 1994b).
Hodgson cites Bahn as stating that the 40 000-year boundary is exaggerated due to
more recent rock art having survived better. While this is, in an over-simplistic way, a
valid statement, the role of taphonomic logic requires much more careful
consideration, and 40 000 years is not a taphonomic threshold in rock art. Besides, it
is evident from Hodgson’s mention of an ‘assumed upsurge’ in cultural activity at the
M./U. P division (there is quite probably more M. P. rock art in the world than U. P.,
conversely) that he ignores the concept of the taphonomic threshold. We need to be
reminded here that archaeology does not deal with cultural events or developments or
anything of the kind, it deals exclusively with material residues of events, and unless
one understands how the characteristics of these residues can be translated into
scientific propositions about events in the past our speculations are scientifically
irrelevant. The formulae for such translation are encoded in taphonomic logic, which
decrees that the statistical or other quantitative, and often even qualitative,
characteristics of the material record are frequently irrelevant to its interpretation. This
is the most fundamental law in all of archaeology (Bednarik 1995b).
Hodgson sees the cave art in Altamira and Lascaux as being about 16 000 years old. I
think some or all of the Altamira art might be somewhat younger, perhaps 14 000
years, while some of the Lascaux art is probably not of the Pleistocene at all (Bahn
1994).
The marked bovine rib from Pech de l’Azé should not be cited in the context of
discussing secure palaeoart. It has always been controversial, and d’Errico and Villa
(1997) have persuasively shown that judgment should be reserved on this specimen.
Similarly, Hodgson cites radiocarbon-derived datings of petroglyphs from the Olary
region in South Australia. It must be emphasised that these dates are no longer
regarded as valid, the analyst who produced them has himself withdrawn them by
casting severe doubts on the method he used to calibrate these ‘dates’.
I fail to see the significance of the proposed ‘hyper-reality experience’. If the making of
certain markings had induced a trance-like state, that in itself would not constitute an
‘explanation for the appearance of L./M. P. phosphene-like motifs’, as Hodgson
suggests. I have drawn many phosphene motifs but have never experienced the
slightest ‘altered state’ as a result. Nor do people who draw nothing but phosphenes
today (such as infants) enter such a state.
Concerning Lewin’s ‘shrinking’ human brain, I doubt that the rather slight difference in
average cranial volume between Neanderthaloid sapiens and later sapienoids is of any
great significance. It is one thing to accept that encephalisation was essentially
complete by the time archaic Homo sapiens forms appeared, but such minor
differences in brain size are negligible, and they are well within the range of modern
human cranial sizes. Moreover, I understand that the size of a human organ is a poor
indicator of its performance.
Concerning the issue of symboling before the Aurignacian, speech or language are
forms of symbol use. Colonisation by seafaring undeniably requires complex
communication (Noble and Davidson 1996), forward planning and abstract thought of
an order of magnitude not significantly different from that available to present-day
humans. Since we have known for some time that seafaring hominids navigated the
sea many hundreds of millennia ago, this record demonstrates the use of symbolism
as well as technological sophistication (Bednarik 1999).
Concerning phosphenes, particularly their physiological aspects, the principal
resource remains the work of Eichmaier and Höfer (1974), which Hodgson has not
cited. The published works he cites on this subject are eclipsed by Eichmaier and
Höfer’s more comprehensive work.
Concerning the Bilzingsleben markings, I refer readers to the recent laser-microscopic
study of the principal specimens from that site by Steguweit (1999), according to
which the engraved grooves were made intentionally and are not incidental utilitarian
marks. The method used for this study is technically superior to the microscopy used
elsewhere by Marshack, d’Errico and myself. For instance it eliminates subjective
aspects of judging groove profiles and replaces visual judgments with hard metric
data.
Robert G. Bednarik
P.O. Box 216
Caulfield South, Vic. 3162
Australia
robertbednarik@hotmail.com
Though art’s hid causes are not found
(Benjamin Jonson, 1572-1637)
By JOHN L. BRADSHAW
Hodgson proposes a bold and imaginative synthesis of art, perception and information
processing, within which he makes certain assumptions, some new, some old, that I
would like to question. I do feel he relies too much on the heavily-criticised 19th
century view of Ernst Haeckel, that ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny, that an
organism’s physiological development reflects the evolutionary trajectory of the (often
incomplete) fossil record. At a psychological level, Piaget’s stages of cognitive
development (themselves recently severely criticised) were probably mistakenly
borrowed by students of the evolution of tool use to draw conclusions concerning the
cognitive capacities of various hominid species. We should be wary of invoking such
parallelisms too uncritically.
Similarly, Hodgson probably relies too much on the striate cortex in developing his
argument. Other regions — inferior temporal, temporo-occipital and infero-mesial
association cortex, lingual and fusiform gyri — are crucial to face and object
recognition and, certainly, to representational art, as shown by object agnosia and
prosopagnosia following localised injury.
The fact that the striate cortex is set up to process perceptual primitives such as
points, simple linear (and possibly curvilinear) contours, and their intersections
(‘stars’), which many in the archaeological world like to call phosphenes, and the
observation that the elements of contour drawing correspond roughly to such basic
perceptual primitives, do not imply a necessary or an evolutionary connection
between them — other than a third observation that, in drawing, similar motor
primitives are coincidentally likely for biomechanical reasons. Thus there is only a
small set of such basic physical acts possible — drawing a dot, a line, a curve, a circle,
an intersection of two or more linear contours. There is no necessary link between a
privileged striate cortex (with its set of perceptual primitives) and the motor primitives
of drawing praxis, except those constrained by the basic laws of geometry. Hodgson
may be placing too much emphasis on ‘resonances’ between ‘mark making’ and
‘phosphene-like activity in the striate cortex’.
It is attractive, but not necessarily correct, to argue that simple dot, line, curve, circle,
intersection ... contour drawing had to precede representational art in the
archaeological record, just as it may seem to in ontogeny. Note, however, that studies
of young artist savants like the autistic child Nadia (who possessed superb,
imaginative, pictorial draughtsmanship, with full perspective, in her first few years of
life) show that such ‘bottom-up’ progression is not in fact the only one.
It may also be dangerous to conclude that ‘art’ in the archaeological record
necessarily involved a pre-linguistic attempt to transmit information to
contemporaries, or to record it for posterity. Even complex representational art may be
produced as an apparent end in itself, rather than as such a means — whether as a
doodle, or even as seems to be the case recently with much Australian Aboriginal rock
art. Indeed, art (as symbolism) may have very little to do with the evolution of
language, except as manifestations of increasing brain capacity.
In the latter context, Hodgson’s observation that human brains have been getting
smaller over the last half million years may have less to do with alternative means of
recording or transmitting information, and more to do with the evolution of tool use;
we need less muscle power now, and, consequently, an allometrically-smaller brain to
drive a less-bulky body.
While tool use, language and art clearly relate to increased brain capacity, it is far from
clear that they always drove the evolution of the latter — in certain respects, one or
more may have been ‘spin-offs’ from a brain-size increase that had other origins. In his
writings, the evolutionary theorist Stephen J. Gould frequently invokes the
phenomenon of the spandrel, an architectural device in strengthening arches in
medieval cathedrals, but which also provided the opportunity, a niche in both senses
of the word, for artistic and decorative elaboration which would not otherwise have
been available. Maybe art is itself merely a spandrel in the architecture of the brain.
Indeed, is an evolutionary perspective even relevant to art if the latter is essentially
non-utilitarian and therefore non-adaptive? Because of our desire to find a Darwinian
explanation for all human phenomena, maybe we are too ready to invoke a
communicative or informational role for art, to link it to the much-more-clearly
adaptive phenomenon of symbolic language.
Some minor points: we may be predominantly visual creatures, with a large ‘visual
brain’, but it is certainly incorrect to say ‘the cortex, in toto, grew out of the need to
process visual information’. Moreover, it is most unlikely that the structure of the
visual system differed much between present-day humans, earlier hominids, or even
higher primates generally. Any differences are likely to be in ‘higher’ cognitive
processes, an ‘aesthetic sense’ (whatever that may mean), and motor control.
Gombrich’s (1984) concept of order as repetition, and therefore as ‘redundant’, is not
pejorative; ‘redundant’ is a technical term in mathematical information theory,
meaning predictable, as with (aesthetically pleasing, incidentally) symmetrical
patterns.
It is not necessarily true that time devoted to mark-making came at the expense of
other important preoccupations (food gathering, shelter-construction, mating rituals ...
), and so must have been of adaptive significance. Larger mammals, especially
predator species, generally devote decreasing periods of time to basic survival
activities, with corresponding increases in ‘non-constructive’ activities, or simply
inactivity.
I wonder whether Hodgson is falling into the seductive trap of evolutionary teleology
when he discusses changes in art in the archaeological record as suggesting a
‘groping towards ...’, a ‘struggle to create ...’, ‘preliminary attempts’, ‘a yearning to
represent’, ‘successful depiction for the first time’.
I am uneasy that representational art somehow reduced processing load and the need
for further, metabolically-costly, brain expansion. More brain mechanisms would
probably be needed to ‘drive’ the production end than might be somehow saved by
‘exteriorising’ representations or images.
I agree that there is an important difference between geometric and representational
art, with possibly different significance and capacities. These differences have not
been adequately explored psychologically or archaeologically. Interesting also is
Hodgson’s concept of geometric abstract art as reflections of hard-wired cortical
activity analogous to Chomsky’s invariant deep structure in language, while
representational art may correspond to the variable surface structure of a particular
language. However, just as with Piagettian stages, Chomskian perspectives have
come in for recent criticism.
Professor John L. Bradshaw
Neuropsychology Research Unit
Department of Psychology
Monash University
Clayton, Vic. 3800, Australia
Art as biocultural artefact
By PAUL FAULSTICH
It is refreshing to read a rigorous and challenging consideration of Palaeolithic art that
is informed by an evolutionary perspective. The biological imperative of symbolic
modeling has not been adequately dealt with in the literature on pre-Historic art, so
Hodgson’s analysis presents a welcomed perspective. While Hodgson’s emphasis is
on the evolution of perception, his analysis is broadly relevant not only to whole
organism biology, but also to the evolution of culture.
As humans, our relationship with the world has — at least since the Lower Palaeolithic
— been deeply affected by the images we use to understand and express our place in
nature. While biological representation of art is readily seen in the naturalistic
depictions of the Upper Palaeolithic, the biological imperative of the ‘abstract’ marks
of the Lower and Middle Palaeolithic are much more elusive. But even within the realm
of representational images, this imperative is largely indiscernible.
For example, Upper Palaeolithic depictions are principally of animals, which often
misleads the modem viewer into thinking that the paintings are only about animals.
But, mindful of cultural evolution, we can posit that the images — being (arguably)
arranged in purposeful compositions according to biology — are also symbolic of the
connections between humans and the natural world. The animals referenced in the
paintings live in an orderly world, a visible ecosystem. Transposed onto the cave
surfaces, they bring an aura of coherence and meaning to that which they might
symbolise; the human community. Hence, I postulate that the artists were cognisant of
a system in which the ecology of animals parallels the society of humans. In looking at
Palaeolithic art, we witness, perhaps, the graphic manifestation of an evolving
totemism, which finds its contemporary expression as the symbolic association
between a social group and a kind of animal, plant or natural phenomenon.
Hodgson’s approach to the evolution of art links it to the fundamentals of natural
selection. Here I cannot fully support his thesis. From my perspective, the application
of his theory does not so much support an argument for the survival of the fittest as it
supports an argument for the survival of the fitness — how things fit together. In an
ecological sense this art, as Hodgson acknowledges, demonstrates a way of ordering
information about the world around us; about understanding how this world is woven
together.
Hodgson touches on this human propensity to find connections in his definition of art
as (partly) ‘... the seeking of order in the midst of disorder ...’. As the affirmation of
order, Palaeolithic art helped our ancestors find a cognitive niche in nature. It was not
so much that ‘continuity, or repetition, would have signified what was safe, secure,
and understood’ (how, then, is innovation in art explained?), but rather that order was
crafted out of the ecological relationships observed in nature. Culture, human biology
and art — from this perspective — evolved hand-in-hand. Symbolic intent and graphic
markings would have developed in tandem, and Hodgson’s gradualist approach to
uncovering the mechanisms whereby this happened is sensible.
Hodgson speculates (correctly, I believe) that symbolic ability was developing
differentially across various cognitive domains, which naturally adds complexity to
human evolution. In support of this he asserts that the ‘laws’ of linear perspective did
not readily develop until the Renaissance, despite some ten thousand years of
sophisticated language competence. But perspective in art is, I suspect, culturally
acquired rather than biologically mandated. Expressive culture is linked, however, to
biology in intriguing and obscure ways. One of the most powerful extensions of
Hodgson’s evolutionary theory is that the propensity toward symbolic expression
might be encoded in our DNA, and that symbolic modeling of the environment may
bestow evolutionary advantage.
While I find Hodgson’s essay to be insightful and important, I question a number of his
assertions. One is that early scratch marks reflect a search for order and structure ‘in
the face of a hostile world’. This nature-red-in-tooth-and-claw perspective represents
nothing other than our perception of the physical environment of the Lower
Palaeolithic, and it cannot be substantiated that the people themselves shared our
perception.
In discussing graphic primitives, Hodgson asserts that the non-figurative digital
flutings from South Australian caves ‘seem to follow the contours of the wall’. After
inspecting a half-dozen of the major caves, it is my sense that topo-congruence is the
exception rather than the rule. While these caves do contain marvellous examples of
topographical influences on human marks, the great majority of finger flutings do not
show a discernible relationship with geomorphology. I mention this only as a point of
clarification; it does not in any way erode Hodgson’s thesis.
Following Diringer (1962), Hodgson asserts that pre-Historic art ‘remains static and
lacks narrative capacity’ and that there is ‘little relationship between the separately
defined representations’. I again disagree. While scenes are hard to identify, there are
ample examples of apparent associations. As Bahn and Vertut (1997: 195) have noted,
there is a grammar at work, but we do not know what it is.
Another area where I differ with Hodgson is his assertion that speech is a first decisive
step toward a pro-active concern with information processing. Neuroscience has not
shown decisively what other animals can or cannot intellect, and there is sufficient
evidence to suggest that many animals do exhibit pro-active concern with processing
environmental information. We know that many animals invent strategies for problem
solving. Ravens, for example, have the ability to solve difficult puzzles. Elephants
exhibit another consciousness trademark, an awareness of death and the emotion of
grief. (They even linger over the bones of long-dead relatives, seeming to ponder the
past and perhaps their own future.) Dolphins exhibit a keen awareness of self-identity,
recognising, for example, themselves in mirrors. Perhaps Hodgson is underestimating
the nuances of animal intelligence, emotions, and communication, of which we
currently know exceedingly little. My point is that while we certainly are different from
other animals in remarkable ways, we are not as different as we have imagined
ourselves to be.
I am resistant, also, to tired comparisons between primitive art and children’s
drawings. The statement that art elevates pleasure ‘in infants (and by implication early
humans)’ suggests that Hodgson views early humans largely as just a more
cognitively infantile form of modern Homo sapiens. This is an unsatisfactory analogy,
and actually runs counter to an eco-evolutionary perspective. To adopt this
perspective is to misinterpret the evolutionary biologists’ mantra ‘ontogeny
recapitulates phylogeny’.
Finally, I reject the notion that we (humans) have been catapulted into a ‘dominance
over nature’. This is a fallacy we are so eager to believe, but which just keeps getting
rebuffed by nature itself. It represents, I think, a modern insecurity with ourselves and
our relationship with the natural world. In the complex calculus of the human psyche,
the relationship between humans and nature is obfuscated yet essential.
I want to stress that I find real value in Hodgson’s essay, and that my concerns
address assertions that are mostly tangential to his thesis. Being my best academic
self, though, compels me to comment on perceived weaknesses. Despite my dissent
with some of the specifics of this essay, I believe that Hodgson presents an important
meditation on a type of marking which has been insufficiently addressed. His paper
brings us closer to the understanding that art is a biocultural artefact necessary to the
ordering of human life, and that culture and biology are not mutually exclusive. While
our regard for art may be predicated on aesthetics, he reminds us our need for art is
biological.
Professor Paul Faulstich
Environmental Studies
Pitzer College
Claremont, CA 91711
USA
paul_faulstich@pitzer.edu
Where’s the news?
By SYLVIA FEIN
The list of 99 authors of references Derek Hodgson cites in his meticulously academic
essay does not include the following:
Gustaf Britsch, 1879-1923, whose work asserted and demonstrated that the mind in its
struggle for orderly conception of reality proceeds in a lawful and logical way from the
simplest patterns to increasing complexity.
Egon Kornmann, Britsch’s student and Director of the Britsch Institute, who in 1926
published Britsch’s book Theorie der Bildenden Kunst.
Henry Schaefer-Simmern, who until his death in 1978 researched and taught the
intuitive problem-solving process of visual thinking, and who in 1948 wrote The
unfolding of artistic activity.
Viktor Lowenfeld, who from 1940 to 1960 influenced world thought in art education
with his Creative and mental growth and other books.
Moholy-Nagy and his rationale for art.
Herbert Read and his humanistic rationale for art.
John Dewey, author of Art as experience and other works on American thinking in
aesthetics, who introduced Henry Schaefer-Simmern’s The unfolding of artistic
activity.
Seymour Saracen, Yale University, Challenge of art to psychology.
Kurt Koffka, who in 1924 wrote The growth of the mind.
Conrad Fiedler, whose On judging works of art was written in 1876 and translated into
English by Henry Schaefer-Simmern in 1949, and welcomed by Rudolf Arnheim, one of
Hodgson’s references, and by Herbert Read who used it as basic theory in his 1953
lectures at Harvard.
Ellen Disanayake, whose What is art for? is composed of clear essays on the place of
art in human evolution, and whose ‘Homo aestheticus’ is acclaimed by Nature as
‘probably one of the most intellectually enriching interdisciplinary studies that has
ever been written’.
Hodgson must be aware of these antecedents to his discussion. If their absence from
his essay dismisses the importance of this vast bank of basic discovery, we can
expect that he will supplant it with some new thesis worthy of attention. But nothing
new is identifiable and he instead constructs a compendium of achingly subtle
assertions from 99 expert scholars. But he fails to make them clear, or to arrange them
to instruct us and advance our knowledge. His difficult logical quibblings and minute
dissections of a multitude of selected assertions are beautifully, almost poetically,
dressed in scholastic process.
The last sentence in Hodgson’s ‘Conclusion’ reads: ‘Such [early] marks played an
important role in the development of ways of dealing with visual information by
recourse to Gestalt principles creating a platform for the emergence of graphic
representation whereby symbolic interpretations did, eventually, begin to become
relevant.’ His huge and serious effort is difficult reading and the reward for reading it
is meagre — we already know that marks ‘played an important role’, and many of them.
Readers are better rewarded by the references Hodgson has rejected, where they will
find equal pioneering devotion to the subject and lucid stimulating discussion.
Sylvia Fein
190 Rolling Ridge Way
Martinez, CA 94553
U.S.A.
Iconic interface between the worlds
By JOHN FELIKS
According to Hodgson’s proposed evolutionary model, a long period of familiarity with
forms in the physical world was precursory to sculptural representation. He suggests
that this preliminary stage involved ‘passive appreciation of natural artefacts’ (Fig. 3)
or ‘naturally occurring artefacts’ (p. 17). Oxymorons aside, I would certainly agree,
seeing that I developed the case by way of the ‘natural representations theory’
published in this very journal (Feliks 1998a, 1998b) and widely distributed prior. [In
brief, the ‘natural representations theory’ suggests that early humans made the
cognitive correlation between living forms and iconic, ‘natural representations’ of
living forms (fossils), priming the capacity for ‘artificial representation.’]
Hodgson proposes a separate lineage for graphic representation. Although this
lineage follows the same preliminary stage as the sculptural lineage, Hodgson
develops it as though it has no natural precedent. However, readily identified, two-
dimensional iconic representations of three-dimensional forms, as well as ‘geometric’
forms, have long been established in the natural world (Feliks 1998a: 110-11, 116-20).
My concern with Hodgson’s graphic marking evolutionary model is that its
foundational assumptions are presented in such a way as to make them appear
erroneously fact-like. Before we build too tall a structure here, I believe it is important
to question the elevated nature of these assumptions and the criteria for what
Hodgson calls ‘facts.’ We must also evaluate his dependence on over-generalisation
and analogy as they relate to the certainty with which he expresses his conclusions.
These matters are all intertwined, but for the sake of clarity, I will discuss them in a
numbered sequence.
Assumption 1: Depictions of phosphenes in early art are not depictions of phosphenes
Hodgson comfortably refers to early markings as ‘phosphene/artistic, primitive forms’,
‘phosphene motifs’, ‘manifestation of phosphenes’ and so on. He even goes so far as
to state that a particular Middle Palaeolithic motif reproduced in Fig. 1 can be
‘positively correlated with associated phosphene’ (p. 11). But if we accept these
humanly-crafted marks as ‘immediately obvious’ images of phosphenes, can we be
simultaneously certain that they are not representational? We are expected to accept
at face value that Hodgson’s own drawings in Fig. 1, columns B and C, are deliberate
depictions of phosphenes. Then, justified by etic presupposition, we are, conversely,
asked to accept that the drawings in column A are not deliberate depictions of
phosphenes. This double standard seems unavoidable, in that Hodgson requires the
early graphic marks be accepted as ‘pre’-representational in order for his evolutionary
scheme to make sense.
If phosphenes were entirely subconscious phenomena, Hodgson’s pre-
representational interpretation of phosphene-like marks would be on firmer ground.
However, the clinical motifs he reproduces were observed and depicted consciously.
Since production of the palaeoart motifs likely involved many levels of conscious
awareness (Bahn and Vertut 1997: 26), the possibility of intentional depiction cannot
simply be ignored, even if it conflicts with a current popular view or with Hodgson’s
own predispositions concerning early human creativity. It does not seem reasonable
to presume that all such schema represent but a few low-end levels of conscious
involvement.
Assumption 2: Phosphene motifs in early art are pure phosphene motifs
Due to the ever-present possibility of alternative explanations, archaeologists are
usually careful not to place isolated instances of palaeoart into unequivocal
categories. But Hodgson sidesteps this precaution; he groups together a wide range
of sparse enigmatic motifs, and treats them as though their collective identification is
somewhat certain. Over-generalising the evidence, Hodgson interprets nearly all
‘abstract schema’ in early art as indicative of phosphenes. To suggest that a single
interpretation accounts for everything seems untenable to me, for not only are these
motifs separated by hundreds of thousands of years, but perhaps more importantly,
they were made by several different — including extinct — human species.
By focusing exclusively on the fact that every early mark (reported post-phosphene
theory) ‘is’ a phosphene motif, Hodgson forgets that one fact does not cancel out
another. Known from physical evidence, these very ‘motifs’ had long prior been
concretely visible in the natural world via fossils (Feliks 1998a: 119-120). Taking this
dual existence into account, I have earlier suggested (1995: 35-6, 1997a: 33-4, 1997b:
29) that if Palaeolithic people saw coherently stable images in the outer world which
resembled the intangible and fleeting images of the inner world, the outer images
would have substantiated the inner, and supplied a partial motivation for imitative,
iconic expression of such in the physical world. Relatedly, hard-wired internal motifs
may have been intermingled with live observation of natural lines, patterns, or forms
— or with conscious (Lewis-Williams and Dowson 1988: 203-4), subconscious or
cryptomnesic memories (specific or generic) of the physical world (Feliks 1995, 1997a,
1997b; 1998a: 116, 119-20; see also Bradshaw 1998: 126). Hodgson conveniently
bypasses all of these possibilities, perhaps because they make his evolutionary model
appear less conclusive.
Assumption 3: Graphic marking ‘evolved’ from non-symbolic Lower Palaeolithic forms
into Upper Palaeolithic representational forms
I agree that archaeological evidence supports a pre-Upper Palaeolithic scenario for the
origins of art, but I question Hodgson’s tenet that non-symbolic expression
necessarily preceded or evolved into symbolic expression. Since a non-symbolic
interpretation of early graphic schema is not established (and certainly not if cognitive
archaeology insists upon scientific criteria and physical evidence), it stands that its
progeny, an abstract-to-representational evolutionary sequence is not established
either. Yet, in requiring that geometric marks play a precursory non-symbolic
evolutionary role, Hodgson treats it as ‘fact’ that pictorial representation came about
before symbolic representation (p. 5). Objectively, are we really talking about ‘facts’
here?
As much as Hodgson tries to make a distinction, I have difficulty reconciling his
admitted ‘capacity for symbolic behaviour’ in early hominids with his but-not-in-
graphic-depiction model (p. 6). First of all, it is common knowledge that symbolism is
not dependent upon one’s ability to physically create symbols but simply one’s ability
to project symbolic meaning onto something — anything — whether by resemblance,
convention or mere association. (Ready-made natural symbols in the form of
metonymical and synecdochical substitutions were likely employed long before any
attempt to create symbols artificially.) Hence, symbolic meaning could easily have
been projected onto the simplest graphic marks. Secondly, let us keep in mind who we
are talking about here. These were people capable of creating fire; co-operatively
building extremely large free-standing structures such as those at Terra Amata;
astounding ocean voyages (Bednarik 1997; Morwood et al. 1998); three-dimensional
sculpture; and, as Hodgson apparently accepts, language! Add to all of the above the
likely recognition of natural iconic representations (Feliks 1998a; Bednarik 1998: 124-5,
‘invention of a referent’), and you have a pre-Upper Palaeolithic symbolic world of
immense diversity.
Assumption 4: The artistic development of modern infants reflects human cognitive
evolution
Hodgson suggests (based on cited studies) that modern-day infants naturally
progress from abstract to representational drawing, and that this is an analogy for how
humanity as a whole (encompassing several species) progressed artistically. However,
these children do not go through artistic developmental stages autonomously. Every
step of the way, they are effectively guided by researchers who provide them with all
the materials and circumstances needed for their mark-making ‘evolution’ (perfectly
flat, smooth paper; modern, easy-flow marking implements; comfortable, artistically
supportive surroundings; focused, sequential sessions; and plenty of time). Consider
the ‘evolution’ of chimpanzee painting skills similarly. Putting it another way, both
children and chimpanzees are subtly encouraged to do what their supposedly non-
influential guides already know how to do!
Though analogies are useful, we must be careful what we extract from them. We
cannot, as Hodgson attempts, isolate a single ingredient from culturally-informed
compound studies of modern infants or chimpanzees, treat it as though it were arrived
at naturally, and then confidently project the results half a million years into the past,
and onto different, not to mention, extinct, species. As much as we would prefer
otherwise, definitive real-time observation and prediction testing are simply not
possible in cognitive archaeology, and any statements of confidence in analogical
testing or retrospective prediction should reflect this fact (Feliks 1998b: 129).
Final thoughts
The origins of art issue cannot be reduced to a simple question of neuropsychological
evolution. Alongside hand/eye/brain considerations are variables of conscious,
subconscious, and cryptomnesic creative activity and innovation within myriad
external environments. Hodgson’s exclusive approach focuses on part of the issue as
though it is the entire issue; concerning alternative, even complementary
explanations, Hodgson is content to simply ignore them. In my view, the advancement
of cognitive archaeology owes a great deal to an abundance of influential, interrelating
ideas. Hence, I still believe that a genuine understanding of our ancient predecessors
will involve all reasonable theories. With a little tempering, Hodgson’s model can be a
valuable part of this comprehensive whole.
John Feliks
32619 Dover Ave
Garden City, MI 48135-1669
U.S.A.
Reason, emotion and graphic representation
By ELERY HAMILTON-SMITH
Hodgson has certainly put forward a challenging series of ideas about the implications
of early rock art for our understanding of human evolution. The purpose of this note is
not so much to disagree with the thrust of his work, but rather to suggest ways in
which his model may well be further extended and made more comprehensive.
I can only agree completely with his rejection of the cultural explosion scenario
proposed by Mithen (1996) and many others and his insistence upon a gradualist
model of evolution. After all, this fits with the evidence from studying other members
of the animal kingdom.. However, I will return below to a re-consideration of Mithen’s
concept of cognitive fluidity.
By concentrating upon the evolving capacity of the mind to produce order out of
disorder and arguing that the processing of perception as information must have
preceded aesthetic pleasure, Hodgson seems to be locked into the long-standing
Cartesian separation of reason and emotion, mind and body. There is indeed an
almost equally long-standing and wide-ranging rejection of this principle, perhaps first
enunciated by Emmanuel Kant (1781) in his Critique of pure reason, and most recently
by the neurologist Antonio Damasio (1994, 1999).
My personal assumption would be that the conjunction of cognition and reason on one
hand and affect and emotion on the other must have always been, that one cannot
normally exist in isolation from the other, and in fact, that the road to survival depends
upon the balance between the two. Since considering the very important ideas which
Hodgson has advanced, I now look back to a more basic and broader consideration
within the evolutionary process and think about the evolution of consciousness rather
than the evolution of information processing as that term is normally construed.
Mithen conceptualises the mind as having evolved from specialised and modularised
functioning (the ‘Swiss Army knife’ brain) to cognitive fluidity and integrated
generalised functioning. This notion is not, in itself, dependent upon the cultural
explosion scenario, but might equally well be accommodated within a gradualist
model. Further, Damasio (1999), drawing upon both systematic research and clinical
experience in neurology, distinguishes between a continuing ‘core consciousness’
which serves to locate us within our environmental context (the here and now) and
‘extended consciousness’ within which we understand our own lived past, our
cognitive recognition of the world about us and our anticipation of a future. This too
implies an evolutionary development from one to the other, yet maintaining the core
consciousness as a vital base upon which evolution has built. My earlier comments
(Hamilton-Smith 1986) about the role of stimulus in the production of images and the
potential place of stimulus-arousal theory (Berlyne 1971), also referred to by Hodgson,
are probably very relevant here, and even more pertinent within the context of
extended consciousness.
Hodgson’s ‘causal integrated’ model of functioning seems to have a great deal in
common with both concepts of cognitive fluidity and the extended consciousness. The
extent of potential agreement underlying these three sets of ideas, each with their own
semantic expression, might well be seen as strong support for the basic principles in
interpreting the evolution of art as one expression of the evolution of the human mind.
At the same time, art may well be much more than information processing, but rather a
record of evolving consciousness and the evolving individuality of self which
followed.
Professor Elery Hamilton-Smith
P.O. Box 36
Carlton South, Vic. 3053
Australia
Art, perception and (archaeological) information-processing
By ANDREW SHERRATT
My views of Palaeolithic ‘art’, like those of many archaeologists, have undergone a
series of perceptual flips since I first became acquainted with the problem as an
undergraduate — in a neat exemplification of the properties of the perceptual process
in general. From an initial expectation that art, like toolmaking, should be a story of
gradual progress, I came to recognise that the earlier phases (associated with pre-
modern species of the genus Homo) had to be approached as something very different
from anything about which ethnography could inform us, and I consequently tended to
set up a rigid dichotomy between art-making and behaviours of a kind more
widespread in the animal world. More recently, I have come to recognise to what
extent this ‘revolutionary’ interpretation was based upon a possibly atypical
evolutionary episode, namely the replacement of Neanderthal by modern humans in
the (then rather marginal) area of western Eurasia; and as a result I have been more
alert to the possibility that what is classified as ‘art’ is not necessarily only of Upper
Palaeolithic date, and that the whole issue of visual communication must be situated
in a much more deeply-rooted process (Sherratt 1999). This personal intellectual
history would be of merely anecdotal significance were it not both typical, I suspect, of
many practising archaeologists, and moreover forms part of an editing process by
which archaeological finds reached a wider community of specialists: for such
perceptions impose a filter on the way in which primary observations are packaged for
a non-archaeological readership. The importance of this paper is to show how we can
retain some of the insights of earlier views, and yet escape from the perceptual
constraints which each of them imposed. In short, it explores how to construct a
bridge from Darwinian to cultural ways of thinking about the problem.
Like many important problems, it is one to which many of our usual linguistic habits
are inappropriate. (‘Art’ is bad enough when applied to medieval and ancient times, if it
carries over the common associations of Renaissance attitudes to earlier contexts: the
term ‘artist’ should arouse immediate suspicions!) It is obvious that a period of
evolutionary acceleration is going to place great strains on any terminology adapted to
particular phases of the process. The great merit of Hodgson’s model is to divorce
structured marking from representation, and to situate the discussion in motor habits
and neural organisation. This helps to overcome the natural tendency to categorise
early behaviours simply in terms of familiar contemporary practices: Neanderthal
‘burials’ were certainly intact bodies in earth-covered hollows, but not necessarily the
products of deliberate ‘funerary’ practices — they could be insulated sleeping-hollows
in which individuals might from time to time (quite often, at the height of a glaciation?)
be expected to die, and perhaps be deliberately covered by survivors. Many
archaeological phenomena are of this kind, for which everyday ‘common-sense’
descriptions are inherently problematic; and it is a problem shared with any study of
animal behaviour (to which Watsonian behaviourism was an extreme solution), in
finding an appropriate set of descriptive categories. The answer, in both cases, is to
specify the evolutionary conditions in which the phenomenon might have arisen, and
the possibly different conditions in which it might be retained or promoted.
The manufacture of artefacts (typically of wood or other organics, even though only
the lithic components of the whole process are likely to survive in the archaeological
record) involves repetitive actions, whose structured sequences are not only a means
of altering the natural world but also have an existence in their own right and are thus
transferable to other contexts — some of which may be more connected with
communication than immediate material transformation. Selective pressures are as
likely to operate in the former context as in the latter; but at different times may act on
both. Hodgson’s account tackles the more fundamental level, at which ‘commonsense’
categories (like ‘toolmaking’ or ‘dance’) may be irrelevant distinctions. It is precisely
the elaboration of such schemes in practice which allows the differentiation to take
place; but both took place within a structured pattern of rule-making (and rule-
breaking) which gave coherence to performance. The partly independent processes of
(proto-)linguistic performance, and the (increasingly overlapping) cognitive capacities
that they imply, can have had a complex history of sometimes separate and
sometimes linked development — each arising from the potential social complexity of
primate groups, and more specifically from the unique features of extended immaturity
and novel adaptive stance (meat-getting) of ancestral human lineages. Infant art rightly
takes its place in these discussions, since prolonged infancy is itself a distinctive
human characteristic, and provides a degree of insulation from the kinds of selective
pressures which might otherwise inhibit modes of cognition and behaviour not
immediately relevant to the task in hand. (This is not just of methodological interest,
comparable to the ontogeny/phylogeny relationship, but important in providing a
context for the development of play-like behaviours which are fundamental to human
cognition and sociality).
All this is to some extent word-play (on the part of those of us whose expertise lies in
analysing the archaeological record, rather than understanding the workings of the
brains which produced it); but such play is important, since it affects the way in which
we process the observations we make in the course of ‘real’ work. In particular, it
helps to rescue the gradualist description of the co-evolution of brain and behaviour
(including material-transforming behaviour) from the naive assumptions of the
traditional, technology-oriented account; but it also avoids the rigid stadial
categorisation which has often accompanied more recent accounts of the emergence
of ‘artistic’ activity. Both models convey important aspect of the unique evolutionary
process which gave rise to modern humanity; but both are too simple to be
satisfactory ways of thinking about the process. It is the continuity from pre-symbolic
to symbolic material behaviour which must be at the heart of a contemporary model of
the pre-History of ‘art’. I enjoyed this presentation of the problem, and welcome the
broadening of debate which it invites.
Dr Andrew Sherratt
Ashmolean Museum
The University of Oxford
Oxford OX1 2PH
England, U.K.
REPLY
Independent and overlapping trajectories relating the simple to the complex
By DEREK HODGSON
I thank reviewers for their discerning and mostly favourable Comments. My Reply will
be to each contributor in turn. Where similar points have been raised by separate
scholars I direct readers to my first response unless otherwise stated.
Bednarik
Bednarik’s positive appraisal is encouraging as one of the aims of the essay was to
show how the architecture of the brain, and children’s early mark-making, can be
related to phosphene theory in terms of the inception of an externally generated,
informational-processing system as embodied in the first ‘art’ (further thoughts on
phosphene theory are outlined below).
I accept the point concerning the artificiality of the division between U. P. and L/M. P.,
which can lead to an exaggeration of the separation between representational and
non-representational art, when the reality would have been one of successive
modification according to a more incremental agenda. Unfortunately, in conforming to
accepted terminology such ambiguities are often unavoidable. I affirm, however, the
proposition that a distinction can be made between proto-art and representational art,
as the former can be regarded as a signifier of a different order to that of the latter;
that is, significant according to arousal factors involving bottom-up rather than top-
down determinants. From this standpoint Palaeolithic ‘art’ is conceived as the
invention of a means of organising and encapsulating visual information
commensurate to how this is achieved in the brain and, therefore, has universal
correlates. This distinction does not presuppose any disassociation between the M. P.
and U. P. but rather a gradual accumulation of depictive strategies during these
periods which eventually led to iconic representation.
The reservations concerning the validity of some of the cited artefacts does not in any
way compromise the main thrust of the argument, but I thank Bednarik for bringing
this to my attention.
As far as the experience of a ‘hyper-reality’ state is concerned, this was merely to
stress the fact that the making of geometric marks stimulates certain visual centres of
the cortex. Prolonged absorption in this activity through intense visual concentration
(which is common in artists), might, therefore, give rise to a heightened sense of
reality, thereby imbuing such forms with a capacity beyond the initial cause. In
addition, fatigue to specific neural mechanisms, as a result of the prolonged viewing
of a single kind of geometric form, can lead to the greater likelihood of perceiving
other kinds of geometric forms (called negative after-effects) through differential
thresholds of neurones in the visual cortex being either raised or lowered respectively
(Favreau and Corballis 1976).
In defence of the resonance proposition, Smets (1973) found that psychological
arousal was greatest when the redundancy-repetitiveness of design elements was
about 20 per cent — this is equivalent to the amount of order found in a simple maze,
in two complete turns of a logarithmic spiral, or a cross with asymmetrical arms. This
phenomenon seems to be innate as drawings with this degree of order tend to be
viewed longer by new-born infants.
Concerning the decrease in brain size due to cultural influences, Martin (1990) has
made the point that the brain of the early modern human averaged 1450 grams
whereas the average for contemporary humans is only about 1300 grams. Allman
(1999: 207) has postulated that this may be due, from 35 000 years onwards, to the
increasing effects of culture as a buffer against adaptive pressures — which is
analogous to how the brains of dogs have decreased in size by twenty per cent,
compared to that of ancestral wolves, as a function of domestication, other variables
being held constant. The question of the relationship between brain size and culturally
derived information processing is, admittedly, not a simple one, yet Donald (1991: 115)
and McNamara (1999: 4) have also drawn attention to how the two components
interact in ways which may influence brain growth.
Bradshaw
In relation to Bradshaw’s criticism of the concept of ontogeny recapitulating
phylogeny: to reject this would be to reject an idea which has, implicitly or explicitly,
been used as a justification for many theories concerning cognition and cognitive
development, e.g. Parker (1985, and a debate on this topic, p. 634); Parker and
McKinney (1999); Karmiloff-Smith (1992); Mithen (1998). In support of this idea, a
newborn baby has a vocal tract like a non-human mammal and it is not until three
months of age that its larynx has descended enough for the first adult-like vowel
sounds to be produced (Pinker 1994: 265). Allman (1999: 197) has also shown how the
chimp and human skull are very similar at the foetal stage. Furthermore, as indicated
in the text (McNamara 1999), this concept, in a modified form, has recently received
considerable confirmation. As direct archaeological evidence regarding the
significance of palaeoart is unlikely to become available we are obliged to fall back on
any clues which can be gleaned from paradigms that can provide suggestive
hypotheses.
Concerning particular regions of the cortex that may also be involved in object
recognition, Bradshaw’s comments are particularly astute. As the paper concentrated
more on early mark-making it was inevitable that the striate cortex should figure so
prominently. However, the significance of the association cortex was cited in the text,
but a consideration of this and other areas would have been beyond the scope of the
essay. The regions specified by Bradshaw are pertinent, but more to the later
processing cascade involved in object recognition than earlier primitives — which
seems rather to reinforce my main thesis.
Regarding the doubts concerning ‘resonance’, I would refer readers to Zeki (1999),
who has convincingly demonstrated how this idea can be applied to contemporary art
(both abstract and representational) — and how artists, as unwitting scientists, have
been engaged in the deconstructing of the image as assembled by the brain, albeit in
this case backwards from representational to abstract art. What is compelling in this
account is that substantial, scientific evidence is presented to back up the claim,
especially in the form of brain scans which have pin-pointed some of the areas to
which Bradshaw alludes as a later, higher-order functional integration of object
features. Interestingly, Zeki has charted the pathways through the visual system for
colour (from abstract to object recognition) in a similar way to how this seems to
operate for form.
As to autistic children such as Nadia, Gardner (1980: 187-9) has indicated that we
simply do not have enough information to answer the question as to whether she
passed through the normal stages of drawing development — though some of her
drawings from the ages of three and four suggest that this was, indeed, the case.
The point is well made concerning the possibility that art may constitute an end in
itself — this, however, can be related to the initial private experience and immediate
reflexivity involved, of which the product inevitably becomes part of the public
domain. Thus, the earliest marks, although probably deriving initially from personal
experience, were realised in a material form that would eventually become significant
for the group. Most art, therefore, fits into the category of shared artistic experience,
even though this might sometimes appear obscure.
Bradshaw asserts that, far from being adaptive, art may actually be a spin-off
(‘spandrel’) as a function of increased brain size. Dissanyake (1992: 230) has made the
point that spandrels may not, after all, be spin-offs, rather they were one of the
reasons cathedrals were built! Contrary to Bradshaw, who asserts that we attempt to
find a Darwinian explanation for all things human, Dissanayake draws attention to the
fact that Gould (Gould and Lewontin 1979), curiously, shares the view of some more
conventionally minded adaptationists that art, in fact, has no survival value. This
position reflects those who, in still hoping to save art from a functionalist or
materialist analysis, fabricate scenarios whereby art is seen as if to emerge from
nowhere. It is because there has been a lack of plausible attempts to interpret art
within the larger framework of evolutionary history (as Dissanayake has indicated;
1992: 9) that such proposals continue to be taken seriously and, in addition, it is a
view that suggests a form of dualism, which serves only to obscure rather than
elucidate. As there is now a growing corpus of artefacts which attest to the gradual
development of art over a considerable period in line with brain expansion, this alone
seems to disqualify the notion of a spandrel.
I regret the fact that Bradshaw feels that I might be falling into the trap of evolutionary
teleology, but perhaps I did not make my credentials absolutely clear in quoting
Dawkins (1991). The extracts Bradshaw cites from the text are largely used figuratively
to convey the idea of successive approximation according to an autocatalytic process
rather than any overt ‘purpose’.
Concerning the extent of the visual brain, this point was made merely to emphasise
the general importance of visual information for the brain. I agree that the structure of
the visual system at lower levels may be similar across species, which supports my
main point concerning evolutionary constraints in relation to early mark-making (e.g.
chimps); the differences between humans and other species are probably due to
higher-order faculties, which is precisely the point I was making in to regard
representation in the U. P. apropos an ‘aesthetic sense’.
Regarding the importance of survival activities in relation to protoart, hominids, as
inquisitive creatures par excellence, would have become unsettled at the prospect of
inactivity thrown up by the benefits accruing from improving technologies. Rather
than spend this time on further social rituals (for which the need would have been
reduced by the efficiency of communication that came with the rise of speech), it
seems that mark-making provided a suitable and convenient alternative outlet.
Inactivity as identified in other species may have an evolutionary significance which
has not yet been identified.
Mathematicians may use the word ‘redundant’ to describe predictability, Gombrich,
however, was using the term to denote boredom and monotony in the perception of
repetitive lines and in this sense the word may be regarded as ‘pejorative’. This was
included simply to focus attention on the difference between Gombrich’s hypothesis
testing approach and one based more on innate criteria.
Faulstich
Faulstich’s comparison between my ‘seeking order in the midst of disorder’, and the
hypothesised order of U. P. depictions I regard as tenuous. I suspect a structuralist
agenda is being adopted here; which is, in this case, at variance with an evolutionary-
biological position. Most commentators tend to agree that the largest perceptual unit
in parietal art is a single animal, e.g. Hudson (1998). Bahn and Vertut’s statement
regarding a possible grammar, cited by Faulstich, is self-contradictory!
I refer Faulstich to Berlyne (1970, 1971) and Kagan (1970) as cited in the text, in
response to how innovation in art can be generated.
Concerning the development of linear perspective, I agree that this most certainly was
an acquired cultural convention, but that it was a convention derived from a previous
array of artistic innovations, involving a set of self-contained rules relatively
independent of language. Interestingly, visual rules of this kind can still be found in
many adult ‘learning to draw’ books where simple geometric shapes and lines akin to
phosphene forms constitute a necessary practice stage as a precursor to
representational depiction involving perspective. Furthermore, I confirm that
expressive culture is linked to biology in intriguing ways — specific graphic primitives
are embedded in representational art without the observer being fully aware of the fact
(this is akin to the word superiority effect).
Although I concur with the notion that there is often a tendency to exaggerate human
traits, Faulstich’s view that speech may not be such a special human attribute can be
accommodated within the present model by regarding complex human speech as a
species-specific adaptation no different to various attributes inherent to other species
(Pinker 1994: 342). Complex speech as a human propensity is emphasised by Deacon
(1997) in posing the question: why can’t animals talk like humans? This, of course, is
not to say that intelligence is dependent on the ability to speak and the pitfalls of
trying to assess intelligence (which is a construct) in humans is difficult enough, let
alone animals. These reservations aside, the case can still be made that the first
utterances, as words, may have represented an initial, pro-active concern with
information processing at a level that was intrinsic to humans as a species — but with
the admonition that this was premised on a continuity with modes of communication
found in other primates.
With respect to the idea that nature represents a hostile force which has come to be
dominated by humankind: I accord with the view that this can appear as Panglossian
— a Darwinian perspective disallows the concept of progress in these terms. At the
same time this does not invalidate the notion of descent with a tendency for
modification and increasing complexity (Wilson 1998; Munro 1963), a concept from
which the human ‘illusion’ of ascendancy seems to have been erroneously derived
(Midgley 1985). Culture, in conforming to this ‘rule’ through co-evolution, seems to
imply progress but it is a progress to which the evolutionary dictates of the natural
world remains essentially indifferent. This, however, does not discount the fact that
culture originally arose out of evolutionary imperatives as a novel way of solving
problems to do with day to day survival.
Fein
Fein will be pleased to see that I have, above, alluded to one of her suggested
references. In fact, some of these references I quoted in an earlier draft (Read’s [1965]
thoughts on these issues are particularly interesting) but, unfortunately, space did not
allow for their inclusion. I would like to point out that most of the authors listed by Fein
have assessed art either from a more general anthropological stance, without
considering the recent data concerning mark-making before the U. P., or do not take
into account, in any great detail, the neuroscientific implications for art. Nevertheless, I
thank her for bringing these authors to the attention of readers.
Feliks
Paradoxically, Feliks might be interested to know that there is such a thing as a
‘naturally occurring artefact’ — i.e. the Makapansgat jasperite cobble; a found object
which, although not in a strict sense an artefact, became one by virtue of perceptual
projection which transformed the object into a semblance of a face! Incidentally, the
representational significance of this form may not be as obvious as has sometimes
been reported; Coss (1985: 256), for example, has established that the signal of two
facing eyes, relating to the identification of predators, is embedded in the overall,
innate, neural substrate of humans (thus supporting Bednarik’s criticism of Feliks
[1998: 125]).
I agree that natural forms would have provided a potent stimulus for passive
appreciation before the first sculptural artefacts were produced with a particular status
for fossils (the West Tofts handaxe seems to confirm this). It is apparent that repeated
lines and symmetry are characteristic features of many fossils and, therefore, would
be more likely to invoke striate cortex structures — but I am averse to the proposal
that this led directly to iconic representation through what Feliks describes as a
‘priming’ effect. Rather, a non-symbolic model (viz, self-sufficient marks of Davis
[1986]) would propose that early mark-making can be adequately explained by how
neurones in the striate cortex are excited in response to such activities, which leads to
a feedback mechanism involving elevated arousal levels by way of brain structures
such as the reticular activating and limbic systems — thereby increasing attention and
focal vision and providing the motivation for further, similar engagements. One of the
purposes of this essay was to provide documentary cognitive and neurophysiological
evidence to support this hypothesis (which is one of the few ways through which the
archaeological record can be appropriately assessed).
The lineage for abstract mark-making (Fig. 3) is defined as linked to tool-making,
rather than the passive appreciation of natural objects, to emphasise the fact that the
invention of mark-making may have been instigated by accidental cuts or striations
made in the making and using of tools which stimulated an ‘aesthetic’ response. The
representation of natural objects, in a two-dimensional format, according to this
account, could, consequently, only have taken place during the U. P. — but this does
not exclude the capacity for a passive appreciation of natural objects before this
period.
Although phosphenes experience may provide a focus for representation through
externalisation, and therefore a compelling explanation for their manifestation in some
forms of ‘art’ by way of intentionally, this notion can readily be included in the model
concerning the striate cortex, where the rendering of such features need not be, in the
first instance, a prerequisite. Consequently, this phenomenon can be explained in
more parsimonious terms by proposing that the striate cortex, through resonance,
provided the original impetus for the first marks from which phosphenes might later
have become a subject for depictive activities.
I concede the point concerning some of my conclusions being drawn from a disjointed
archaeological record, but as evidence from the periods under discussion is limited in
the extreme one is bound to fall back on over-generalisation. In defence, I draw
attention to the caveat that a broader overview consistent with an evolutionary
analysis was to be expected.
In response to Feliks’s inability to conceive of a difference between the capacity for
symbolic behaviour in speech as opposed to the ‘meaning’ attributed to L. P. marks, I
refer to the fact that speech and imagery are asymmetrically located in the brain. As
representation is more likely to be constrained by the latter faculty rather than the
former, the visual brain would, therefore, have provided the primary instrument by
which full representational depiction was achieved — at which point speech began to
attribute meaning. It has been established that representation, as processed by the
brain, can have a ‘logic’ independent to that of analytical-symbolic thinking (Corballis
1989; Solso 1993; Damasio and Damasio 1992: 63; Davis 1986: 210 for a discussion on
this issue). It is the ‘logic’ of this system which is being evoked in protoart. This
supports Davis’s (1993: 343-4) assertion that spoken language need not be a
prerequisite for other kinds of communication. He also notes that the marks on the
bones from Bilzingsleben might constitute a necessary factor providing the raw
material for what will later become pictorial image making — which does not
presuppose any particular symbolic expertise. Consequently, Feliks’s ‘projection’
would be one of significance being apportioned through a non-specific increase in
arousal levels. Moreover, Halverson (reply to Bednarik 1995a: 621) has suggested that,
for early hominids, prototypical marks need not have had any obvious meaning
beyond a ‘pongid status’ — although I would still hold to the view that what, in
essence, chimps, infants and hominids respond to, in the production of geometric
lines, is the perception and construction of order and symmetry according to
evolutionary factors as outlined. Pertinently, representation, as realised perceptually
in the brain, would have preceded symbolic systems as a necessary strategy for
survival through the visual mapping of the environment — Corballis refers to this as a
‘default’ system (1989: 501). (The above analysis is also relevant to Bradshaw’s point
concerning pre-linguistic informational transmission).
Concerning cultural influences in children’s drawing, the universality by which
children progress through the various stages towards representation argues in favour
of a predisposing mechanism which is independent of cultural factors. The similarity
with the art of chimps confirms the point.
The theory as presented is one that puts forward a hypothesis which is eminently
open to falsification in the light of further archaeological discoveries. I do not, I think,
as Feliks suggests, attempt to provide an exclusive explanation for the origin of art —
as indicated this is an inclusive theory which leaves open the question of cultural
determinants.
Hamilton-Smith.
The issue of consciousness raised by Hamilton-Smith is an interesting one. As a
corollary to the model proposed here, consciousness would be defined as having
evolved as an increasingly efficient mode for integrating diverse forms of information
— as a kind of shorthand-way for systematising the complexity of incoming stimuli.
This does not imply that a hierarchical, but parallel, cascade of re-entrant processing
ends up at a central processor where consciousness resides, or that this
consciousness arises as an epiphenomenon of the neural complexity in higher centres
of the brain; rather this originates in the cumulative interlocking of more complex,
modal, sub-systems at macro as opposed to micro levels in ways which we do not, as
yet, fully understand. This approach is not wholly at odds with Damasio’s view (1989),
although I would not go as far as to say that consciousness operates right up to the
boundary where the inner meets the outer world. But here we get into arguments as to
whether what is processed automatically is open to consciousness. In this respect
connectionist models would be relevant, which can help to delineate how the striate
cortex, as a lower-order function, might analyse visual information. Certainly, I concur
with the view that the separation between mind and body is artificial; as a theory which
places the beginnings of art firmly in the neurostructures of the brain the inference is
that consciousness will also, eventually, be similarly explained. These points obviate
any accusation of a Cartesian separation as a continuity rather than a discontinuity
model is presupposed.
The emotional centres of the brain would, of course, have played a role in information
processing which, as already mentioned, can be linked to arousal as Hamilton-Smith
has, himself, noted (1986) in referring to ‘intrinsic hedonic value’ — this provided the
drive mechanism through which the first marks were fashioned whereby the striate
cortex would have played an important determining role. The two positions are,
therefore, mutually sustaining and conveniently integrate Davis’s self-sufficient marks
and Bednarik’s phosphene theory.
Where I do part company with Hamilton-Smith is with reference to Mithen’s ‘cognitive
fluidity.’ Mithen seems to have the principles of evolutionary psychology back to front;
it is not cognition which suddenly became fluid but the flow of information as it was
differentially, but exponentially, realised through culture (see Fig. 3) as a derivative of
cognitive structures which had probably been in place by at least 150 000 BP. In this
respect Mithen (1996: 154) misinterprets Sperber’s theory (1994: 55, 62), the latter of
which is more in line with evolutionary psychology in seeing culture as constrained by
long established cognitive components (Cosmides et al. 1992: 5) — well before
Mithen’s supposed cognitive threshold. I note that Mithen’s support for a cultural
explosion at the M.P./U.P. boundary has cooled somewhat recently in admitting the
possibility of a longer time frame (1998: 186).
Sherratt
I commend Sherratt for highlighting how an approach to the understanding of
palaeoart from the perspective of neural function and Darwinian imperatives can reap
rich rewards for archaeology. This not only helps to establish a bridge linking
evolutionary studies to cultural theories but also how early mark-making can relate to
iconic and symbolic processes.
Sherratt’s shrewd observation that the making of artefacts involves repetitive actions,
which would have been transferable to other contexts including those connected with
communication, gives substance to the idea that the significance of self-sufficient
marks could have derived from the accidentally produced scratches or cut marks
created in the defleshing of bone or in the making and using of tools. He also cogently
summarises how the putative overlapping processes can have different levels of
integrative complexity according to particular contingencies.
I endorse Sherratt’s observation which highlights the importance of prolonged infancy
for cognitive development in humans; although this may provide for a measure of
insulation from immediate selective pressures, the length of the extended period itself
would still have been mediated by these pressures. Interestingly, Allman (1999) relates
this latency to information processing. He views prolonged vulnerability as connected
to the need for offspring to acquire the essential knowledge for survival in the face of
environmental uncertainty. Speech, therefore, developed as a means of
communication to promote and sustain the extended family, the latter of which acted
as an agency to provide a secure background in the light of both this need and the
associated larger brain size.
Résumé. Dans les années récentes, les sites du Paléolithique inférieur et moyen ont
livré de plus en plus d’exemples de marques non figuratives. Les théories sur
l’interprétation de telles marques cherchent invariablement à les expliquer par
l’intention de représenter un référent. Elles écartent par là la possibilité d’une analyse
basée sur des critères évolutifs découlant d’un scenario graduel, cumulatif, qui n’a
pas nécessairement à dépendre d’explications symboliques. L’article vise à corriger
ce biais interprétatif: on cherche à déterminer l’époque initiale où la confection de
marques peut être suffisamment expliquée par des mécanismes évolutifs conjugués
avec la manière dont le cerveau et le cortex oculaire traitent l’information reçue.
Lorsqu’on aborde le problème de l’origine de l’art à partir de ces perspectives, on
perçoit des similitudes avec la manière dont le cerveau traite des types d’information
concomitants, par exemple le langage. Ceci peut nous fournir des indications
intéressantes sur la façon dont la confection de marques a pu se développer, et dans
quel but.
Zusammenfassung. Abstrakte Zeichen des Alt- und Mittelpaläolithikums sind in der
letzten Zeit in archäologischen Niederlagen mehr verfügbar geworden. Theorien
betreffend der Bedeutung solcher Zeichen haben sich stets auf beabsichtigte
Bezogenheit konzentriert und ignorieren dadurch die Möglich-keit einer Analyse,
welche auf evolutionären Kriterien basiert ist, die sich auf eine allmähliche, kumulative
Entwicklung beziehen, die nicht notwendigerweise von symbolischen Erklä-rungen
abhängen muß. Dieser Aufsatz sucht ein Gleichgewicht herzustellen, indem er
bestimmt, wie frühe Zeichen-Herstellung ausreichend erklärt werden kann, durch
evolutionäre Mecha-nismen in Verbindung damit, wie das Gehirn und die visuelle
Hirnrinde Information verarbeiten. In der Untersuchung der Ursprünge von Kunst aus
dieser Perspektive werden Parallelen damit gezogen, wie das Gehirn mit begleitenden
Arten von Information fertig wird, z.B. Sprache, was wichtige Anhalts-punkte geben
kann, warum und wie sich die Zeichen-Herstellung entwickelt haben könnte.
<B.RESUMEN.Marcas abstractas del Paleolítico Inferior y Medio recientemente se han
vuelto más frecuentes en los registros arqueológicos. Las teorías respecto al significado de
tales marcas invariablemente han estado relacionadas con una referencia determinada, y por
consiguiente, ignorando la posibilidad de un análisis basado en criterios evolucionarios con
un argumento gradual y cumulativo que no necesariamente tiene que depender de
explicaciones simbólicas. Este artículo pretende rectificar el equilibrio al determinar cuán
temprano la hechura de marcas puede ser suficientemente explicada a través de
mecanismos evolucionarios junto con la manera en que el cerebro y el sistema visual
procesan la información. Al tratar los orígenes del arte desde esta perspectiva, se sacarán
semejanzas respecto a cómo el cerebro procesa tipos concomitantes de información, p. ej. el
lenguaje, que puede proporcionar importantes indicios en cuanto a por qué y cómo la
hechura de marcas puede haber desarrollado.
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This paper was first published in Rock Art Research, in May 2000, Volume 17, Number 1, pp.
3-34.
