In the late summer of 1987, I dipped my feet, shoes and all, into a bucket of disinfectant, shook off the solution, and then passed through a small metal door set in a hillock in the French countryside and walked into the Paleolithic cave of Lascaux.
Along with three other people, and a French guide, we stood in deep darkness, and then the guide flipped a switch and a low watt string of lights illuminated what can only be described as the vault of a church.
Horses ran down the sides of the cave, mammoths stood proud, antelopes galloped; the animals were alive. The colors were earthy, clearly applied by artists who knew their medium. They even used the bumps of the cave walls to make some figures 3-D.
And they told the elegant and familiar story of a hunt using stick figures, bows and arrows. Action all around.
It took my breath away, and that experience has remained one of the most spectacular moments of my life. When people ask me what it was like all I can say is that Lascaux was clearly a spiritual place. It just couldn't be anything else. Not much of an intelligent answer coming from an anthropologist, but it was indeed spiritual.
Most people only get to see Lascaux II, the very good reconstruction put in place to save the real Lascaux from destruction by tourists' breath. They occasionally let people in the real one, and I had to wait 6 months for my ticket, and make a case for why I, in particular, might have a shot.
And that's why when scientists announced last week that they had finished DNA analyses of ancient horses and proved that there was indeed a "leopard" spotted horse long ago, and that the the cave artists had painted what they saw, I took it personally.
Until now, archaeologists thought the spotted hides were abstract art, conjured up in a moment of inspiration. Now we know Lascaux and the other caves painted in the area were realistic, but also interpretive because the animals are not exact replicas, but strokes of glory.
Sheer glory.
Along with three other people, and a French guide, we stood in deep darkness, and then the guide flipped a switch and a low watt string of lights illuminated what can only be described as the vault of a church.
Horses ran down the sides of the cave, mammoths stood proud, antelopes galloped; the animals were alive. The colors were earthy, clearly applied by artists who knew their medium. They even used the bumps of the cave walls to make some figures 3-D.
And they told the elegant and familiar story of a hunt using stick figures, bows and arrows. Action all around.
Most people only get to see Lascaux II, the very good reconstruction put in place to save the real Lascaux from destruction by tourists' breath. They occasionally let people in the real one, and I had to wait 6 months for my ticket, and make a case for why I, in particular, might have a shot.
And that's why when scientists announced last week that they had finished DNA analyses of ancient horses and proved that there was indeed a "leopard" spotted horse long ago, and that the the cave artists had painted what they saw, I took it personally.
Until now, archaeologists thought the spotted hides were abstract art, conjured up in a moment of inspiration. Now we know Lascaux and the other caves painted in the area were realistic, but also interpretive because the animals are not exact replicas, but strokes of glory.
Sheer glory.
