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Authors: Neil Oliver
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attracted tourists for well over a century and it was the Victorians who gave them their fanciful names: Church Hole, Mother Grundy’s Parlour, Pin
Hole, Robin Hood’s Cave. It was inside Church Hole, an unpromising, irregularly shaped chamber, that the three archaeologists made the discoveries that secured Britain a place on the world
map of Palaeolithic cave art. Using directional lighting to cast the cave walls into shadow, they first of all spotted what they assumed to be an engraving of an ibex. It was a stunning moment for
the trio. Far beyond the known limits of such ancient creativity, in the literal shadow of the Devensian ice, a beautifully rendered work by a skilled artist had finally come to the attention of
the modern world. Having seen one, it was suddenly much easier for Bahn and his colleagues to pick out the rest – as many as 90 individual engravings in Church Hole alone.
It bears pointing out that even when standing in front of the best of them – perhaps the awe-inspiring depiction of a bison, the head and forequarters of the beast taking advantage of a
natural bulge in the rock wall to give added vitality and power to the piece – they are still hard to see. Maybe they were once more obvious, the lines deeper and casting sharper shadows, or
picked out with pigments to give the colours of life. But there is no doubting their quality, or their great age. Now correctly identified as a stag, the ‘ibex’ was partially covered by
cave flowstone (much the same material that forms stalactites and stalagmites). Some of this was removed and dated, by a technique called uranium-series, to reveal the stag was cut into the rock
more than 13,000 years ago.
Church Hole Cave is a gallery of wonders. On part of the ceiling is an engraving that initially defied identification – in no small part because there was no way to tell at first how to
view it, which part was the top and which the bottom. Then in a moment of clarity Bahn realised he was looking at the body, neck and long curving beak of a wading bird called an ibis. As with the
bison, the artist – perhaps the same artist – had used the natural curves of the rock to suggest much of the bird’s body and even the rough outline of the beak. He or she had then
skilfully augmented what was already there to create the finished form. Modern sculptors talk about sensing a shape within an uncarved block and feeling the urge to free it by the act of carving.
According to Bahn that sensation is as old as humanity: ‘I think so,’ he said. ‘Because in fact one of the most characteristic features of cave art all over western Europe is
constant use of natural shapes in the rock.’
As at Lascaux and Altamira, the artists at Creswell Crags were inspiredto depict the animals they saw around them – that provided their food and the raw materials
of daily life. There are nearly as many theories explaining the meaning of cave art as there are artworks. At the very least they reveal the timeless desire that is always within the hearts and
hands of some people, to make realistic representations of the world. But at least some of it must have been inspired too by the need to try and make sense of that world and even to influence
it.
At least one artwork found by Bahn and his fellows was made by an artist seeking to make contact with someone or something sensed but not seen. The engraving itself has been interpreted by Bahn
as a series of long-necked birds, beaks pointed upwards. It is small, a few inches square, and as hard to see as the rest, but located in a spot where no one would ever have been able to appreciate
it. Church Hole reaches deep into the limestone, narrowing all the while like a tadpole’s tail. Much of the natural build-up of flowstone has been dug out to make the passage deeper and
access easier, but in Palaeolithic times it would have taken great effort and intent to penetrate all the way back to the site of the
Hole, Robin Hood’s Cave. It was inside Church Hole, an unpromising, irregularly shaped chamber, that the three archaeologists made the discoveries that secured Britain a place on the world
map of Palaeolithic cave art. Using directional lighting to cast the cave walls into shadow, they first of all spotted what they assumed to be an engraving of an ibex. It was a stunning moment for
the trio. Far beyond the known limits of such ancient creativity, in the literal shadow of the Devensian ice, a beautifully rendered work by a skilled artist had finally come to the attention of
the modern world. Having seen one, it was suddenly much easier for Bahn and his colleagues to pick out the rest – as many as 90 individual engravings in Church Hole alone.
It bears pointing out that even when standing in front of the best of them – perhaps the awe-inspiring depiction of a bison, the head and forequarters of the beast taking advantage of a
natural bulge in the rock wall to give added vitality and power to the piece – they are still hard to see. Maybe they were once more obvious, the lines deeper and casting sharper shadows, or
picked out with pigments to give the colours of life. But there is no doubting their quality, or their great age. Now correctly identified as a stag, the ‘ibex’ was partially covered by
cave flowstone (much the same material that forms stalactites and stalagmites). Some of this was removed and dated, by a technique called uranium-series, to reveal the stag was cut into the rock
more than 13,000 years ago.
Church Hole Cave is a gallery of wonders. On part of the ceiling is an engraving that initially defied identification – in no small part because there was no way to tell at first how to
view it, which part was the top and which the bottom. Then in a moment of clarity Bahn realised he was looking at the body, neck and long curving beak of a wading bird called an ibis. As with the
bison, the artist – perhaps the same artist – had used the natural curves of the rock to suggest much of the bird’s body and even the rough outline of the beak. He or she had then
skilfully augmented what was already there to create the finished form. Modern sculptors talk about sensing a shape within an uncarved block and feeling the urge to free it by the act of carving.
According to Bahn that sensation is as old as humanity: ‘I think so,’ he said. ‘Because in fact one of the most characteristic features of cave art all over western Europe is
constant use of natural shapes in the rock.’
As at Lascaux and Altamira, the artists at Creswell Crags were inspiredto depict the animals they saw around them – that provided their food and the raw materials
of daily life. There are nearly as many theories explaining the meaning of cave art as there are artworks. At the very least they reveal the timeless desire that is always within the hearts and
hands of some people, to make realistic representations of the world. But at least some of it must have been inspired too by the need to try and make sense of that world and even to influence
it.
At least one artwork found by Bahn and his fellows was made by an artist seeking to make contact with someone or something sensed but not seen. The engraving itself has been interpreted by Bahn
as a series of long-necked birds, beaks pointed upwards. It is small, a few inches square, and as hard to see as the rest, but located in a spot where no one would ever have been able to appreciate
it. Church Hole reaches deep into the limestone, narrowing all the while like a tadpole’s tail. Much of the natural build-up of flowstone has been dug out to make the passage deeper and
access easier, but in Palaeolithic times it would have taken great effort and intent to penetrate all the way back to the site of the
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