A Hand Print
One of the things I like about the French is that they don’t feel the need to Disneyfy everything. In Britain we tend not to believe that something will be interesting in itself – so the North York Moors become “Heartbeat Country” and the area round Haworth is “Bronte country” and everything has to have a massive souvenir shop selling tea towels with “I’ve been to Catherine Cookson Country” on them.
In contrast, here is the entrance to one of the biggest and most important set of caves in Northern France, the Grottes d’Arcy-sur-Cure.
Eleven caves, with signs of human life in them dating back 200,000 years. We had a guided tour of the Grande Grotte and it was amazing – hundreds of stalactites, stalagmites, wonderful rock formations and a huge pile of bat poo.
Tourists can’t visit the other caves because the Grande Grotte had so many visitors that it got very dirty – I presume with lichens and so on which grow where the artificial light is (but I may be wrong because I got all this from the guide who strangely enough was speaking French, and mine is rather rusty but I did my best).
So, in 1990, they washed the Grande Grotte with hosepipes, all the rocks and everything. In doing so they found many prehistoric cave paintings: but, sadly, destroyed many others. .
I have always liked caves, as long as the roof isn’t too low. I am always amazed by - and admiring of - cavers who will squeeze through tiny gaps and swim along underground streams. I love all the rock formations and the sense of timelessness.
“Look,” said the guide, shining his light on the wall, “there’s a deer - - and a mammoth - - and a bison.” Amazing, clear drawings, drawn right in the depth of this long, dark cave - - how? With what light? And why?
Then, a bit further along, what is called a “main negative” – a “negative handprint” where the person had put their hand on the wall and painted round it. There’s the print, fingers spread out, just like a child might do at school.
The guide stressed how Cro-Magnon Man was very like us, and of course I could imagine him, or her, making this print, choosing the bit of wall for its flatness, holding the hand up. Thirty-three thousand years ago.
Thirty-three thousand years ago. Wow.
In contrast, here is the entrance to one of the biggest and most important set of caves in Northern France, the Grottes d’Arcy-sur-Cure.
Eleven caves, with signs of human life in them dating back 200,000 years. We had a guided tour of the Grande Grotte and it was amazing – hundreds of stalactites, stalagmites, wonderful rock formations and a huge pile of bat poo.
Tourists can’t visit the other caves because the Grande Grotte had so many visitors that it got very dirty – I presume with lichens and so on which grow where the artificial light is (but I may be wrong because I got all this from the guide who strangely enough was speaking French, and mine is rather rusty but I did my best).
So, in 1990, they washed the Grande Grotte with hosepipes, all the rocks and everything. In doing so they found many prehistoric cave paintings: but, sadly, destroyed many others. .
I have always liked caves, as long as the roof isn’t too low. I am always amazed by - and admiring of - cavers who will squeeze through tiny gaps and swim along underground streams. I love all the rock formations and the sense of timelessness.
“Look,” said the guide, shining his light on the wall, “there’s a deer - - and a mammoth - - and a bison.” Amazing, clear drawings, drawn right in the depth of this long, dark cave - - how? With what light? And why?
Then, a bit further along, what is called a “main negative” – a “negative handprint” where the person had put their hand on the wall and painted round it. There’s the print, fingers spread out, just like a child might do at school.
The guide stressed how Cro-Magnon Man was very like us, and of course I could imagine him, or her, making this print, choosing the bit of wall for its flatness, holding the hand up. Thirty-three thousand years ago.
Thirty-three thousand years ago. Wow.
posted by Daphne at 9:35 am
1 Comments:
The hand print was where it all began, the art thing. It was the first mark man made on the earth.
The story goes that one particularly dark and stormy night [whenelse?] the Shaman led his gathering of primative acolytes down into the bowels of the earth into the back of a cave where their spirit fathers resided.
The Shaman could commune with the spirits and tonight he was going to pass through into the spirit world before there very eyes.
Beneath the flickering light of burning torches the Shaman laid his hand on the bare rock at the back of the cave. Behind this rock was the sacred land of their ancestors. He blew a dull mixture of ochre, mud and spit over his hand and in the dim light his hand appeared to have disappeared into the rock.
Primative man [and primative woman] gasped in primative awe. And in days to come they would return to this very spot and show others the shape of the hand where it had gone through into the Spirit World.
The Shaman was made Top Man, given the best cuts of meat and the choice of the prettiest virgins. Such is the power of art.
Post a Comment
<< Home