Early Human Awareness of the Continuity of Life and Werner Herzog's "Cave of Forgotten Dreams"

I just finished watching Werner Herzog's documentary Cave of Forgotten Dreams (Netflix link for those of you with a subscription at your disposal) on the Chauvet Cave's ancient human rock art.  I'm a huge fan of Herzog's film-making style, primarily his exploration of the spiritual connection among humans and animals alike.  I'd seen his documentary on Antarctica, Encounters at the End of the World, and was blown away by one scene in which a scientist describes the strange behavior of some penguins.  Every once and a while, it seems, a penguin will walk toward mainland until its death.

These are the sort of fascinating details that Herzog pulls from those he interviews.  In "Cave of Forgotten Dreams" Herzog shows us paintings depicting rhinoceros, ibex, cave bears, cave lions, and horses in the hollow of a long-sealed cave.  Amidst the crystalline ripples of calcite lay the bones of animals dead for ages.  The imagery is seriously more surreal than anything my imagination could conjure.  Though this is not the state the cave was in when early humans came to the region in southern France, the calcite has preserved the delicate charcoal lines drawn by human hands--some of the pictures dating thousands of years apart.

The 8-legged animals in some of the pictures evoke a motion and depth hard to imagine exist only on  a stationary, 3-dimensional surface.  These pictures were viewed by light of torch.  The pictures would dance.

This flux of charcoal--an acknowledgment of movement--a sort of emphasis on fluidity and expression, but also of minimalist opportunism is quite striking:

Many generations of human existence were spanned in some of the depictions.  They blend fascinatingly, sometimes showing the author's unique style, but who are we to know their specific creator?

I imagine a sort of prehistoric, graffitied, charcoal version of La Danse by Matisse:

Included in the art's dimensions, however, are the walls of the caves themselves.  This incorporation of environment has an architectural element reminiscent of some modern architecture by Antonio Gaudi, such as his Porta Miralles:

 

The similarities end soon, however; when we realize that these cave drawings are works of art built upon centuries of human existence remembered in images, it becomes apparent this is not the sort of art or creation that can be captured or replicated in a moment.  It is, in essence, built over time and in accordance to the medium on which it exists: the surface of the Earth.  This incorporation of the chaotic nature of existence into one's art matches what would seem to be a heightened awareness of the aesthetic qualities present in the immediate world and earthen/geological structures that early humans had.

This timelessness of existence reminds me of our class discussion on Tuesday, I think it was--about the difficulties in interpreting the Native American sense of continuity and cycle.  Native American cultures--those existing before contact with the English language for sure, and I'd hope many since--also had a style of rock art (following 2 photos are from the most excellent rock art blog):

Art to me has always been about expressing ideals of balance or aesthetic form, and this rock art truly embodies these fundamentals.  I'll end with a paraphrase from the Herzog documentary: at the end of the film, a story is conveyed about an ethnographer who asks an aboriginal painter why he paints.  The painter responds that it is not him that is painting--that it is the spirit or something outside oneself that is creating all those beautiful forms.

On the Subject of Native Intelligence/Assimilation

From Christopher Columbus' Journal, 11 October, 1492:
"It appears to me, that the people are ingenious, and would be good servants and I am of opinion that they would very readily become Christians, as they appear to have no religion. They very quickly learn such words as are spoken to them. If it please our Lord, I intend at my return to carry home six of them to your Highnesses, that they may learn our language. I saw no beasts in the island, nor any sort of animals except parrots." These are the words of the Admiral."

I find it terrifying that, though the Admiral of Columbus' crew states that the Native people he encounters are quick to learn, the crew appears to hold conversion to Christianity as a prerogative. This mentality has oozed from the "New World's" wounds since--the act of colonization through cultural imperialism is still present in this country, as we officially encourage a nationalistic embrace of such mottoes as "In God We Trust" and "E Pluribus Unum".

"Out of many, one." It's funny that a culture so focused on quantity could maintain homogeny as a virtue.

Checking Incestuous Lust Through Humor -- "Coyote Sleeps With His Own Daughters"

Incest is frowned upon in many cultures, and its mention in a coyote trickster tale is etiologically significant--exposing an understanding of the complexities that self-aligning family structures bring.  The story "Coyote Sleeps With His Own Daughters" touches upon basal sexual desire (the titillatingly exposed vulvas (vulvi?) of coyote's two daughters), the pains of virginal sex, the anger of betrayal (coyote's wife chasing him with the knife), the unending pestilence of community (the boy was well aware of his father's presence in different form), and the perpetrator of social malpractice's (coyote) reconciliation of his own values (i.e. monogamous sex with one's life partner).

And for the realists, here's a video of coyote himself, grinding with the "miss".

"A World Without Human Beings Has No Center To It"

 

This was probably my favorite portion of the movie Reel Injun; John Trudell puts a different spin on the appropriation of certain representative characteristics (some might even say cliches) of American Indian culture by Anglo youth.  When viewed as one large community of humans, it's very obvious as to why even the descendants of colonists have the right and desire to contemplate their role in the web of life.  It speaks truths about the worthiness of pursuing such ideas of center and balance.  I found his affirmation of the community of life to be very enlightening.

Everything is everything

In reading about coyote's multifarious existence, I can't help but think that American Indian storytelling has a deep root in duality--expressing all traits (distilled: good and evil) through a narrative vessel that expresses both at different times and circumstances. According to necessity, coyote has good and bad motives (on one hand, he selfishly satisfies his curiosity; on the other, he brings something life-giving to the world). These stories illustrate an understanding of the symbiotic relationship between good and evil--the ways they influence and define each other. Animals and nature serve as floating signifiers and their meaning changes to reflect a world governed by emotion and imperative illogicism.

In "The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fist Fight in Heaven", Alexie describes a scene at a World's Fair in which the statue of an Indian mechanically moves its arms while saying "The Earth is our mother." This is one truth, but then James, a highly perceptive seven-year-old quips that "Earth is our grandmother and that technology has become our mother and that they both hate each other."

Both are right, and the conflict between those two perspectives is the enlightening aspect.

Photo taken from: Twin Rocks Trading Post

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