ROCK ART PAPER - No 2. - PAGE 3. THE ROSARIO BIRDS
Maarten van Hoek December 2003| THE ROSARIO BIRDS:
POSSIBLE INDICATIONS OF EL NIÑO DISASTERS IN THE CHILEAN ATACAMA DESERT First published in ALMOGAREN XXXII-XXXIII, 2001-2002, 303 - 328, Wien 2002; the Journal of INSTITUTUM CANARIUM, Wien, Austria. Text and graphics of this web version copyright by Maarten van Hoek, 2003. UPSIDE-DOWN IMAGERY, A GLOBAL PERSPECTIVE Although inverted imagery is rare in rock art even on a global scale, also in the Atacama rare instances of inversion occur. An example is found at Chiuchiu, NE of Calama, where three small anthropomorphs, engraved on the vertical north face of boulder 24, possibly represent the Andean staff-god Wiracocha (Van Hoek 2001: 51). One god is directly associated with four snakes. One of the most remarkable aspects of these snakes is that the animals are clearly depicted upside-down, their heads slightly raised, looking upwards, so it seems (Fig. 13). This specific position certainly was premeditated, as only inverted imagery executed on vertical or strongly sloping surfaces satisfactorily excludes chance. However, under special circumstances, inverted imagery on horizontal surfaces may be regarded as intentional as well, for instance the two inverted humans on panel C, a horizontal ledge of the Hilina Pali cave on Hawai'i (Lee & Stasack 1999: 54). Although I have no informed explanation for the specific upside-down position of the Rosario birds, I would like to draw the attention to some possibly important analogies, one of which may universally link inverted imagery to shamanistic beliefs. There are scattered across the world several instances of reversed imagery. In some cases this phenomenon may as well remain inexplicable, as is the matter with the inverted child (?) at the Kaeo 18 site on Hawai'i (Lee & Stasack 1999: 40), and with some upside-down birdmen petroglyphs that I observed on the vertical outcrop-face at locus 18, Mata Ngarau, Easter Island. Interesting, but also inexplicable, is the upside down little human figure on a vertical rock face at Monte Bego, France. It is associated with a natural hole in the rock and a vertical zigzag line, which is said to represent a thunderbolt (De Lumley 1996: 206), but it could equally represent a stylised snake. Upside-down animal imagery is also reported from Africa, where we find examples of inverted cattle, giraffe, lion and rhinoceros. At Twyfelfontein in Namibia, I noticed one upside-down ostrich and, on an enormous vertical panel, two inverted oryx. A plausible explanation is that inverted animals actually represent dead animals as has been suggested for the upside-down bison painted at Kila, Montana, U.S.A. (Keyser 1992: 39), and that the imagery simply relates to hunting practices. This possibly is also the case with paintings in Spanish caves, where we find dead or dying animals in hunting scenes depicted upside-down, for instance at Gasulla, Castellón, and Araña, Valencia, but, again, this theory hardly explains inverted imagery of humans. It is highly unlikely however, that inverted animal imagery relates to the tradition to carry home dead game, hanging upside-down from a pole (Huwiler 1998: 44), as this is not practicable for animals like giraffe or rhinoceros. Neither does this practice explain (vertically) inverted imagery of humans, although, quite exceptionally, there is an engraving on Hawai'i (Lee & Stasack 1999: 73) where two humans carry a human body slung (horizontally, not vertically!) beneath a long pole; a sacrifice or a funeral? But elsewhere, instances of inverted imagery are indeed associated with death, even when it concerns human figures. For instance, inverted humans at Tlaxcala, Mexico, are said to be dead (Suszek 2000: 14). Also in the rock art of the Caucasus Mountains, Karelia and Siberia, Russia, upside-down human figures (and animals) are said to be dead (Ksica & Ksicová 1994: 24, 45, 163- 165). It may be significant that especially these Asian areas are known for their (prehistoric) shamanistic traditions, often underpinned with several reliable ethnographic accounts. However, there is always the danger of repeating other peoples' interpretations that originally were not underpinned by convincing evidence. Also, all the above speculations do not satisfactorily explain every instance of inverted imagery. It must be noted for instance, that notably the upside-down bird imagery at Rosario probably will not represent actual dead animals at all. The condor was and still is a sacred animal and it is highly unlikely to be killed by the indigenous Andeans. Even today certain customs in Peru involve the capturing of a condor and its participation in certain rituals. But after the ceremony the bird is released unharmed. It is therefore more likely that in many cases there is another, deeper reason for inverted imagery. An example from South Africa possibly will elucidate this. At Rose Cottage Cave there is a panel with San (Bushmen) paintings of humans and elands. One of the humans and one of the elands have intentionally been depicted upside-down. It is argued (Ouzman 1997: 237; see also Solomon 1998: 279 and Uher 1994: 306) that in San rock art an upside-down animal or human is regarded to be dead; a common metaphor for having entered the spirit world. Thus in San rock art, inverted imagery seems to be firmly related to shamanistic trance experiences (see also Whitley 1998: 24). Hence it is conceivable that elsewhere in the world upside-down imagery also relates to shamanistic beliefs. This theory also more satisfactorily explains the reversed position of human figures and other anomalies in orientation. In general it seems to indicate that inverted imagery is related to transformation and/or change and therefore also to death. It now looks as if all these aspects are found combined in the reversed imagery at Rosario. THE INVERTED BIRDS OF ROSARIO Rosario notably is most interesting when it comes to the concept of inversion. Except for two snakes (Fig. 14: E and F) and one animal (14.N), most animals are oriented (walking) to the west (ocean - descending sun), obeying the natural vertical axis. One animal however (14.J) is depicted heading in an opposite direction, eastwards and downwards, and it seems to be guided (to the supernatural world perhaps?) by a small human figure (a shaman?). The most interesting animal disobeying the vertical axis however, is the large bird (14.K) near the east edge. It is closely associated with a phallic anthropomorph (14.L) with a feathered (solar?) head-dress and raised arms. It definitely is in a position that suggests a very special relation to the bird. Significantly, the large bird, which I suggest to represent a Condor, is clearly depicted upside-down with a west facing head (thus oriented to the ocean - this MAY be important!), indicated by two curved lines, that represent the beak. Why has the condor so prominently been pictured at Rosario? In Andean mythology it is often argued that by depicting the condor, one attempted to acquire its ability and power to fly and thus to dominate the landscape and (especially) the high, inaccessible mountains, dwelling places of gods and (ancestral) spirits. The condor is also said to transport the souls of the deceased to the spirit realm (the high mountains), but also to be a messenger for evil spirits. The condor thus forms an important link between the several planes of existence in the Andean world-view. The bird also may have been regarded as the Spirit helper for a priest or shaman. It is also possible that a shaman transformed into a condor in order to enter the supernatural. This idea may explain the occasional depiction of possible condor-men in Atacameñan rock art, for instance at Alero Zurita (Fig. 15.A), 50 km north of Chiuchiu, and possibly at Ofragía (Fig. 15.B). But why does condor imagery occur so often exactly AT ROSARIO? The geographic position of the bird imagery at Rosario may point to a very special event, as the condor does not belong to the natural habitat of the lower course of the river Lluta. One possibility is that its sacred imagery may once have been introduced to the area. But then, for what reason, and why upside-down? Imported imagery in Andean art is no exception, as also the jaguar, living only in the tropical jungles east of the Andes, occasionally appears in the rock art of the Atacama. Another well-known imported image is the monkeygeoglyph in the Peruvian Nazca Desert. There may be however, another and even more clarifying explanation for the presence of Condor petroglyphs in this coastal area, which brings me to the final question. Why are all large bird petroglyphs depicted upside-down? As this has been done on vertical rock panels, there is no doubt that this specific arrangement is intentional and therefore meaningful. The upside-down position of the Rosario condors also seems to represent an exception in the rock art of the Atacama, as, as far as I could check, it is not reported whether other condors in Atacameñan rock art (Muñoz & Briones 1996: 64) also involve inverted imagery. The Rosario examples just may be unique. Also, most other birds in Atacameñan rock art are either depicted in full flight, like the bird-geoglyphs of the Lluta valley and examples at the vast geoglyph site at Pintados near Iquique, or upright as normal walking or standing birds, like examples at the petroglyph sites at Ariquilda, Chiuchiu and Tarapacá 47. Therefore, so it seems, the Rosario birds represent a truly enigmatic anomaly. However, there still may be a very special explanation for the presence of such idiosyncratic but powerful condor-imagery in this coastal area. THE ROSARIO CONDORS AND EL NIÑO Discussing aspects of southern African rock art, Ouzman (1997: 238) argues that idiosyncratic imagery often serves to focus the attention on the rock art scene, its creator and the chosen site. Surprisingly, Espinosa (1996: 150, 153) comes to a similar conclusion for Atacameñan rock art when he discusses the four idiosyncratic combinations of musical foxes and frogs at boulder 69, Ariquilda, which he considers to be unique in the north of Chile. Also this Ariquilda panel involves a rare instance of inversion. The same is true for the Rosario birds. Especially the large condor at panel 2 at Rosario is clearly spatially separated from the other engravings by and to the left of the vertically oriented snake. The large condor at panel 3 is spatially separated from the other petroglyphs by its solitary placement high up the vertical cliff. Thus, the positioning on north (valley - sun) facing panels, the spatial separation, the graphic inversion, the large size and the humans addressing (?) the birds, all this indeed seems to intentionally focus the attention onto this specific imagery. For that reason one also specifically used the image of the sacred condor, as this bird was thought to be able to travel to the supernatural world easily. Inversion seems to involve two different concepts that, however, easily may operate at the same level. At certain North American Indian tribes the concept of inversion is widely understood as a MEANS TO ACCESS THE SUPERNATURAL (Whitley 1998: 24). And, importantly, Espinosa (1996) argues that imagery of inversion often MARKS IMPORTANT TURNING POINTS in history, or disasters, and that the execution of inverted imagery serves to re-establish the equilibrium of the universe. If your world is turned upside-down, ritually executing inverted imagery will re-establish the balance, so it seems. But what disaster could have hit this coastal area and triggered the execution of inverted imagery at Rosario? Remarkably, a possible answer can be found at sea. Importantly, the two major condors are looking towards the coast! The condor-iconography at Rosario may relate to a sometimes disastrous impact on the west coast of South America caused by periodical changes of the Pacific currents. Normally, we have seen, the Humboldt Current runs north along the coast and turns west near the equator. This cold sea current is so extremely rich in nutrients that it harbours an enormous quantity of fish and other sea creatures. The abundance of sea-life also explains a strange paradox on land. In places, the barren desert coasts of Chile and Peru are teeming with birds and marine mammals that flock together in large colonies, solely feeding on the richness of the sea. For some still unknown reason however, this prevalent cold sea current is periodically replaced by a warm current from the west; a phenomenon known as El Niño. During severe El Niños these warmer but empty waters push aside the nutritious Humboldt Current, often causing an enormous mortality along the coast. As a consequence of this directional inversion, certain parts of the coast are literally littered with carcasses. These dead and dying animals naturally attract all sorts of predators and scavengers and, significantly, it is also during such disasters that condors descend from the high mountains to feast upon the dead animals. For the indigenous societies however, the emergence of many of these enormous birds will have been regarded as a bad omen, announcing death and disaster in the Atacama. The fact that especially the bird petroglyphs on panels 1 and 2 are placed in a rather peripheral position on the panel (panel 3 being situated quite peripheral in itself and moreover not containing the usual imagery) may suggest that in general the bird imagery at Rosario has been added to existing rock art panels and therefore may be younger. The Rosario birds are also located on three distinctly spatially distant panels and moreover each panel has its different style of bird-imagery. This may point to intermittent rituals during different El Niños. How can such disasters be appeased? The answer is by ritually addressing and propitiating the deities or ancestral spirits of their culture. And there seems no better way of performing such rituals than creating lasting and powerful images at places where contact with the supernatural could be made. It is important to realise that indeed, in general, Andean arts often served to unite planes of existence, characterise change and document transformation (Stone- Miller 1997: 16). The bird imagery at Rosario may graphically symbolise such a contact. It may be a metaphor, documenting the passage of a shaman into the supernatural realm. Significantly, a human figure (a shaman?) is directly associated with two of the finest bird-petroglyphs. Perhaps the condor represented the Spirit Helper for a shaman in transformation. But the images of the potent Condor may also have been created to IMMEDIATELY address a powerful god or the ancestral spirits with a special prayer to turn away disasters. Possibly the most effective way to achieve this, was to create inverted images of those birds that were directly associated with El Niños. It seems as if the chaos caused by the climatic inversion was balanced by inversion of potent bird-imagery. It is highly unlikely that ordinary people were allowed to execute such powerful imagery. It is more probable that it was an exclusive privilege for shamans or priests, often artists in themselves, to create such important images at this sacred place. Therefore I tentatively would like to suggest that the Rosario birds indeed may constitute a reaction to a serious crisis (like an El Niño) that was ritually and graphically propitiated by a specialised shaman or priest, but understood by a general contemporary audience. In summary, the imagery of Rosario Condors, far removed from their natural high-mountain habitat and thus outlandish in this coastal area, just possibly may be the result of Condors visiting the coast during a widespread mortality caused by a severe El Niño. Guided by the symbolic inversion of the bird imagery, a conceptualisation of the access to the sacred realm, a shaman entered or addressed the supernatural, either to control the disaster himself or to propitiate the gods or ancestral spirits in order to turn away the catastrophe and to restore the equilibrium of the universe. FIGURES 13 TO 15. |
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