Art of the Ice Age has a lot to teach us—it’s time the British Museum dedicated a gallery to it

The exploration in 2019 of rock art illustrations of animals– pig deer and dwarf buffalo– on the Indonesian island of Sulawesi, dating to over 40,000 years back, has revolutionised what we recognize of the origins of art. The very first 30,000 or so years of human image-making– Ice Age art, in brief– is one of the most amazing durations of cultural history, with discoveries and revelations coming thick and fast. And yet the really idea of “prehistory” (a word rightly steered clear of by some specialists) does little justice to the “talking” high quality of Ice Age images, and the reality that they stand not only at the start of the history of art, but inhabit over three quarters of that history, so far.

There can be little question of public interest in human origins and Stone-and-Bone age art– the art equivalent of dinosaurs at the All-natural History Museum. An Ice Age Gallery at the BM can go a lot better, nonetheless, shedding light on our modern predicament. The Ice Age was nevertheless hardly Eden– most of the proof points to humans cleaning out species wherever they went.

The minimalist display and focus on Ice Age art as brightening the evolution of the modern-day human mind were a discovery, opening up out a strange globe in which the very idea of “art” appears to have actually been built. There can be little question of public interest in human beginnings and Stone-and-Bone age art– the art matching of dinosaurs at the Natural History Gallery.

And yet Ice Age art has never been provided its own permanent gallery at the BM. The requirement for such a gallery could be drawn from the 2013 BM event Ice Age Art: Arrival of the Modern Mind, curated by Jill Cook, the keeper of the division of prehistory (as it is still understood). The clean display screen and concentrate on Ice Age art as brightening the development of the modern-day human mind were a discovery, opening up out a mystical world in which the extremely concept of “art” seems to have actually been created. Such an unbelievable show was an example, as T.J. Clark put it, “of the means the basic existence of points together in a space can surpass, not to say render faintly ludicrous, the most effective initiatives of professionals to make sense of them”.

The initial 30,000 or two years of human image-making– Ice Age art, in other words– is just one of one of the most exciting periods of cultural background, with discoveries and revelations coming quick and thick. Did the Neanderthals as a matter of fact make pictures? Is there a Lascaux to be uncovered in Africa? Exactly how early did humans cross the Bering Strait to North America? Every decade the dates appear to fall back another couple of thousand years.

Aside from the Hermitage Gallery in St Petersburg, the British Museum (BM) is the only organization to include Ice Age art as part of a larger “world” collection of human social effort. The collections include lots of finds from French websites like the rock shelter of La Madeleine, excavated during the 19th century, and additionally things located at Montastruc on the river Aveyron– notably the renowned Swimming Reindeer, wonderfully carved from the tip of a massive tusk.

A Glacial Epoch Gallery would certainly also reveal the forming force of environment on human life. In his current book The Earth Transformed: An Unknown Background, Peter Frankopan makes the critical point that the changes of global temperature levels throughout the Glacial period, including a period of unexpected warming, can aid us comprehend the consequences of environment modification in our own world, and the extreme changes in life that now seem certain to unravel over the remainder of this century. Not that checking out the “larger photo”, as Frankopan over-optimistically recommends, makes our plight any type of much less immediate– the almost three degrees heating that appears currently highly likely, unless we make radical modifications, appears set to signal the end of the civilisation for which the BM has long prided itself as the custodian. And yet the proof of the Glacial epoch demonstrates how migration and adaptation– and inbuilt cunning– were the vital to survival, even in the most difficult conditions. It is a matter of making connections, and it must not be forgotten that throughout the Glacial period, prior to increasing sea levels swamped the area currently referred to as Doggerland, the British Isles were still literally component of continental Europe.

It’s perhaps not surprising that Glacial period photos are often taken into consideration separate from art history– the domain name of archaeologists. Most of the caverns– Chauvet, Lascaux, Altamira– are out of bounds, and the smaller portable makings in tusk and bone are often extremely breakable and hardly ever sent out for events. The deadening Eurocentric terms designed to separate the Ice Age right into durations– Aurignacian, Gravettian and so forth– does not aid. And yet the extremely concept of “prehistory” (a word rightly rejected by some professionals) does little justice to the “talking” top quality of Ice Age pictures, and the truth that they stand not just at the beginning of the history of art, but inhabit over three quarters of that background, until now.

The exploration in 2019 of rock art illustrations of animals– pig deer and dwarf buffalo– on the Indonesian island of Sulawesi, dating to over 40,000 years back, has revolutionised what we know of the origins of art. Prior to, it was thought that art, in the sense of photos of points, showed up initially in southerly Europe, notoriously in the form of a standing number of a lion (or probably a bear) carved from mammoth tusk– the so-called “Lion Male” found in the 1930s in the Hohlenstein-Stadel cave in southern Germany.