AR30. 27 June 2008
Copyright © 1977 by Christine E. Sharpe. All rights reserved.
New Quarterly Cave 2: 3 (1977), pp. 226-234.

KOONALDA CAVE: THE BEGINNING OF ARTISTIC EXPRESSION[1]

Christine E. Sharpe

The story of the beginning of human artistic expression is a fascinating field and one which is as yet still in its infancy. Art does not have its first roots in the wonderfully expressive bison and rugged hairy ponies depicted in ochres and charcoal on the walls of such caves as Altimira or Lascaux. Rather it originates in the strange tangle of finger scrawls and stick scratches which lie beneath these pictures. These form no recognizable image, no animal shapes, or even an ordered arrangement which we could arbitrarily call a symbol.

It is not of the famous European caves which I wish to speak, but rather of a cave on the vast Nullarbor plain of Australia, fourteen miles from the coast and fifty-four miles from the Western Australian border. It is one of the largest of the hundred and seventy known caves on the Nullarbor. [Fig. 1.]

This area of Australia is very arid with less than ten inches of rain per year. There are no water courses at all, no rivers or even creeks and the temperature averages out at about 78°F with a very high evaporation rate. The scenery is stark and monotonous, the vegetation sparse and the land flat. The most significant geological features are the large sinkholes or dolines which open up unexpectedly on the plain and which form openings to the many caves. [2][Fig. 2.]

The vast sinkhole of Koonalda Cave is some one hundred feet deep and it is from the base of its North West side that the cave itself opens out. This opening is relatively small and gives little clue to the huge chamber within, which is similar in size to a roofed sporting stadium. The base of this chamber is reached by a hundred foot descent and it is here that Alexander Gallus (who discovered the archaeological significance of the cave) and Richard Wright, have made extensive excavations. From this ‘Gallus Site’ another steep climb leads to the upper chamber or ‘art sanctuary,’ which has been formed by the collapse of the cave roof. While walking through this area, one passes by many rounded boulders. These abruptly end (probably covered by a late rock fall, as Kevin Sharpe suggests) and the floor descends steeply to the wall at the very back of the cave. This is pierced by a narrow tunnel (some 850 feet from the entrance) which leads onto a ledge overhanging a lake far below, this lake may be reached through a branch tunnel of the cave which leads off to the North just before the Gallus Site. [Fig. 3.]

Fig. 1. The sinkhole of Koonalda Cave.

Fig. 2. The Art Sanctuary.

Fig. 3. Plan of Koonalda Cave – after Hinwood 1960 and Lewis and Mott 1976.

It was Adrian Hunt who first noticed strange markings on the cave walls. Norman Tindale, whilst studying the area, found stone tools around the sinkhole and it was he who informed Alexander Gallus of the markings. In 1956-1957 Gallus investigated the strata and recognized Koonalda’s archaeological significance. He also noticed Hunt’s strange markings and commented that they were similar to finger scrawls in European caves and that these formed the beginnings of cave art in the younger Palaeolithic era.[3]

Why then did early people descend into the depths of Koonalda cave, with its spirit-filled darkness, their way lit only by torches made from handfuls of twigs or tree roots? Gallus has found that a fine-glass-like flint called chalcedony was mined here. Why did the Koonalda people go to all this trouble when chalcedony was freely available on the surface? Modem stay Aborigines avoid the Nullarbor plain and its caves, saying it is the home of a hideous, man-eating snake.

There are disputes as to the interpretation of archaeological evidence found by the two principal excavators, A. Gallus and R. Wright. Roughly the stratigraphy of the Gallus Site is divided into an upper white deposit overlaying a deeper red layer, which overlays another white deposit.

Wright has made finds in both of these layers but feels those in the red must be discounted as they may have been washed in from the surface. He considers only a few of the flints he has found to be implements.[4] Gallus on the other hand has found such material which he feels is significant.[5] Wright calculates from the evidence of his Carbon 14 dates that human beings occupied Koonalda cave from about 22,000 to 15,000 years ago.[6] Gallus, however, has more recently taken datings from below the layer from which Wright obtained his dates.

Now to the art itself. I believe it is indeed a form of artistic expression – not perhaps in terms of producing a predetermined image for others to enjoy, but rather a very personal expression, one which speaks of the intimate relationship between the human being and the cave. It can be divided into three types. Firstly, the wall markings mentioned before: these are of two categories: marks made in the soft powdery limestone walls with finger tips, and scratches, perhaps created with a long stick. [Fig. 4.]

The finger marks are very impressive. Covering a large area and extending well above one’s head, they resemble the fan vaulting in Gothic cathedrals. The imploring nature of the marks also creates a tension in the viewer. Were they made in a placating mood in an effort to subdue the cave spirits or were they made frantically in moments of fear or during a trance? Whichever way we look at it, it seems that the marking took place as a ritual action, probably by more than one person and perhaps over a substantial period of time. This use of line making as a participatory rite recurs in the boulder marking as well.

Fig. 4. Finger markings.

Fig. 5. Scratched markings.

Why mark walls? Does the soft powdery limestone invite stroking as a purely tactile experience – much like wet finger-paint draws the fingers of a young child. On another level, perhaps the irresistible urge to inscribe one’s initials into wet concrete began here. A kind of ‘I have been here – this is my mark’ sign. In some societies, the imprints of hands indicate the presence of individuals at some place, and indicate the number in the group. This is to be seen in the hand stencilling at many contemporary Australian Aboriginal art sites. [Fig. 5.]

Returning to Koonalda, the scratch marks are in the harder wall surface, though both these and the most impressive of the finger markings are clustered around the squeeze entrance at the very back of the upper chamber. These scratches usually appear on a clean surface, free from under marking, and unlike the finger marks, stand out as clearly ‘readable’ units.

One such unit is a carefully marked grid of straight parallel and vertical lines, another (which is beneath a ledge and can best be viewed lying on one’s back) is composed of a number of great arcs very similar to the rainbow serpent symbol of contemporary aboriginal art. It is difficult not to surmise that this latter `symbol’ and a rough concentric circle form are some kind of forerunners of the same signs in Aboriginal culture.

The next category of art to be found in Koonalda is a form of 3-dimensional sculpture. The most prominent of these is to be found on the Gallus site. It is a huge slab of limestone, stelelike in shape, which has been purposefully wedged by smaller stones into an upright position. Most of the slab is rough, but one side has a smooth, undulating, rather human form jutting from its surface. Flakes have been chipped from this face, presumably to accentuate the interesting form. Presumably this and other strange nodules were discovered by the ancient miners and made such an impact on them that they were endowed with great importance and carefully set apart so as not to anger cave spirits, or perhaps to protect the mining.

The final form of art to be found in Koonalda cave is a kind of combination of the two previous types. Here free standing smoothly rounded limestone boulders have been marked in much the same style as the wall scratch marks but are finer and much more intricate. [Fig. 6.] The immediate impression is of years and years of painstaking work, surely by quite a number of people. But why mark boulders? Was the urge strictly aesthetic? Were these ancient people deeply moved by the curved, smooth white boulders, inspired like some long ago Brancusi or Miro? The more evocative the shape, the more marks are clustered upon it. Two especially come to mind, one like an elephant’s skull, the other the head of a great serpent. Details on the stone’s surface also draw these artists. Fossil shells are accentuated with lines, and pits have lines radiating from them. Indeed, holes and crevices seem to have held a special fascination and deep holes in the cave floor are often indicated by emphatic, evenly-spaced parallel lines on a boulder directly above.

At first investigation, these marked boulders appeared to line either side of natural tracks through and across the upper chamber. Closer investigation revealed that they were in fact part of a series of ritual floors and areas. Stones had been purposefully moved back and walled up into rough circles and the large engraved boulders were incorporated into these.

A portion of the engraved boulder – Rock B, floor 7III.

Fig. 7. Layers in the engraving on rock B, floor 7III – From first to last.

How could one make a systematic study of these fascinating boulder engravings? While in New York I was privileged to meet Alexander Marshack, a scholar who had undertaken extensive work on non-representational prehistoric engravings especially in Europe. He was interested in comparing examples of these engravings from all parts of the world, trying to discover any similarities between them. He suggested that I try to untangle the lines and recreate the order in which they were built up. He had found that European examples seemed to have been built up over a period of time, possibly by different people using various tools.[7]

So, with the support of the National Geographic Society I set out to see if this could be true of Koonalda. Like the European examples, these line systems consisted of parallel groups of lines. Marshack has called these groupings ‘streams’. Concentrating on clear, relatively uncomplicated examples and armed with a large magnifying glass, I studied the junctures where the line groupings overlapped. In this way I could separate out specific layers of work. These I color-keyed in my diagrams working from first line applications through last. I could also see whether each stream layer was executed by a different tool. With the magnifying glass and a candle, by casting shadows in the tiny grooves I was able to see the cross sections of the engravings. These varied from very shallow wide U’s to deeply gashed V’s. [Fig. 7.]

This seems to show that what Marshack found to be true of some European engravings is also true of some Australian examples. So the boulder marking is perhaps a participatory rite. Each man braving the dark, perilous climb to the upper sanctuary, sits amidst a stone circle and carefully adds his marks to those already there, maintaining a unity with those who came before and those who will follow.

One of the most interesting aspects of Koonalda and its art is the context of holes. Both the cave itself and the smaller holes within are emphasized by the art forms, a microcosm of imagery engulfed by a macrocosm. It is the great mysterious sink hole, opening out unexpectedly in the vast, flat plain, the womb-like protection of the cave itself where men came for a very specially endowed flint. The cave is both spiritually nourishing and reviving, but also awe inspiring, frightening and needing to be subdued. This impression is reiterated within the cave. The strange squeeze, the crevices between the rocks of the floor, even the tiny indentations on the boulders are a part of this and are given a special flourish by the cave’s artists.

Koonalda cave and its art are of great significance. They not only tell us of the first kind of artistic expression, but they are part of an independent tradition begun in many parts of the world. Koonalda is particularly exciting in that not only are the art forms themselves intact, but they are still in their ritual setting of floors and boulder groupings. Both this fact and the sheer quantity of art work combine to make Koonalda cave an archaeological site of world importance.

Christine E. Sharpe, who studied in the United States and Australia, now lives in Hamilton, New Zealand with her husband, Dr. Kevin Sharpe, the photographer for this article.

KOONALDA CAVE: THE BEGINNING OF ARTISTIC EXPRESSION[1]

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