You know about the cave paintings in Lascaux in southwestern France, right? Hundreds of depictions (primarily of large animals) created between 17,000 and 22,000 years ago, covering the walls and ceilings of a vast underground network of natural chambers. That cave region is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site. What an enthralling thing it would be to see those paintings in person.
Except, you can’t do that, and for good reason. The caves were open to the public in 1948, a few years after they were discovered, but closed in 1963. The heat, humidity, and carbon dioxide generated by human traffic was eating the paint right of the walls. So admission to the caves was halted before the images completely disappeared. There have been a number of traveling exhibits featuring recreations of some of the paintings and there’s a visitor experience at Lascaux offering an exact replica of the original cave. But the actual sites themselves remain off limits.
However…
If you want to see evidence of our early human past peeking out from under the covers, you don’t have to settle for paint-by-numbers approximations in Europe or a natural history museum. You just have to get to Manhattan. We have exposed walls with art here too, you know. And on one such wall, not far from where I live, there is a striking example of one of our ancestors using rudimentary artistic skills to communicate something about their world.
Here it is:
You don’t need to be an anthroarcheopaleocryptozoologist to tell what’s going on here. It’s a fight for dominance — a tale as old as time — between two Ice Age ungulates. The species appears to be something of a cross between a saber-toothed vicuña and a long-eared galoot. Physical supremacy? Herd leadership? First dibs on the more appealing does? Uncontrollable male aggression? Probably all of the above. You can almost hear the snorting, the cries of pain and fury, the exhortations from the other vicuña galoots gathered around, invested in the outcome one way or another.
I can’t find much information about the excavation effort that revealed this, or really, any information about it at all. Perhaps the image was exposed during a routine repair job, or maybe some grad student strolling by had a hunch. Whatever it was, it happened right under my nose, because I’m on that block a lot and never saw a thing until this stunning image was fully revealed.
The location is near the corner of 30th and Park. (30th? 31st? Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s 30th. I’d go check but it’s freezing cold out). If you are planning to stop by, don’t worry about making a reservation or waiting in a line. It’s out in the open, free for all to see. Frankly, I’m surprised there’s no plaque, no stanchions, no guard, no attempt to exploit this extraordinary image for gain.
Like they do in France.
(Seriously now… no, I mean it…if you find those French cave paintings fascinating, I highly recommend Werner Herzog’s Cave of Forgotten Dreams and Kim Stanley Robinson’s extraordinary novel, Shaman).