CHAPTER XXVIII

ABORIGINAL ART

Psycho-analysis of the conception of art—Oldest records

appear as rock carvings—Descriptions from several

localities—Evidences of great antiquity—Tree carvings—Carved

grave-posts of Melville Islanders—Carvings on wooden

weapons—Engraved boabab nuts—Carved pearl-shell—Bone not

carved to any considerable extent—Charcoal, kaolin, and

ochre drawings—Cave drawings—Ochre mines and legends—Barter

with ochre—Preparation and application of pigment—Hand and

foot marks—General picture of cave drawings—Ochre drawings

on sheets of bark—Ochre body decorations—Coloured down and

ground designs—Study of designs in detail—Subsidiary sketches

of determinative character—All features of model shown on one

plane—Keen observers—Natural features of rock surface embodied

in design—Celestial phenomena artistically explained—The

emu—Perspective—Action—Animation—Composition—“Totem”

designs—Sacred designs—Remarkable drawings from the Glenelg

River—Conventional drawings and patterns—Tracks of man, animal,

and bird—Images in the sky—Fish—Flying fox—Fleeing kangaroo—A

fight—Time symbols—Circle-within-circle and U-within-U

designs—Kangaroo, caterpillar, and native pear-tjuringa

drawings—Anthropomorphous designs.

No truer insight could be obtained into the mind of a primitive man

than by means of a psycho-analysis of his artistic productions and

predilections. Like most other peoples, past or present, the Australian

aboriginal has developed his talents to an astonishing degree. Just as

is true of his dances and musical performances, the real value of a

production can only be appreciated by one who can throw himself, heart

and soul, into the responsive, reciprocative, and assimilative mood and

atmosphere the artist endeavours to create. The psychological factor

is the more important; an aboriginal’s design may be crude, but his

imagination is, nevertheless, wonderful; we see the line, but he sees

the life; we behold the image, he the form. In the absence of such a

psychological reciprocation, however, the effect and quality of any

artistic production may fall flat. Indeed, we ask, what is contained in a

mere line? With due deference to the Euclidian definition, a line, from

a primitive point of view, might represent almost anything, provided the

necessary imagination is there; and it is just this imagination which

is particularly cultivated by the primitive man. The question arises:

“Who is the better artist: the man who can satisfy himself or the man

who can satisfy others?” The former is unquestionably the more primitive

idea of satisfaction. Simplicity of design is by no means indicative of

a deficiency in talent, provided the inventor has evolved the necessary

imagination which permits him to behold in a design before him the

reality of the original. This instinct is common to all mankind; we have

only to observe our own children to appreciate the excellence of their

creative talent and imagination when they are at play among themselves.

Modern adult man is too realistic, perhaps too unnatural; he cries for

something tangible, something concrete to appease his tastes. Just as

one often sees youngsters, European as well as aboriginal, playing at

their favourite game of “father and mother,” assuming certain inanimate

objects, like sticks, to represent their children, so the aboriginal

artist’s imaginative mind can actually see the real living picture

contained in the crude diagram before him; he conveys his thoughts to

his fellows by means of a lengthy verbal explanation, and, when they

have caught the idea, they can wax as enthusiastic over the thing as the

artist himself. This sentiment we have sacrificed to a certain extent. It

is difficult to say exactly who is an artist and who is not. By nature

we are all artists, and most of us can satisfy our individual needs in

a more or less conventional way. But to pose as a modern artist, it

is required of us to be able to take the inspiration from Nature and

reproduce it in such a way that others are able to grasp the significance

or beauty of the design without more explanation than a mere title. Yet

the conception of “art” is a variable and relative measure, and we know

well there have been different tendencies and schools, some of which

are so highly specialized that the untrained mind cannot grasp, or even

admire, the quality of the reproduction, because it cannot see with the

same eye as the artist specialist. Here, then, we have a reversion to the

primitive instinct, combined with all the perfections and skill which

culture and training have evolved during the long space of time lying

between a primitive foundation and the high standard of modern excellence.

The oldest records of primitive art in Australia are preserved in the

form of carvings upon rock surfaces, akin to those found in parts of

Europe, South Africa, and Egypt. The technique of these carvings is

twofold. At Port Jackson, and elsewhere along the coast of New South

Wales, and to a small extent at Port Hedland in Western Australia, a

great variety of representations of fish, animals, and men have been cut

and scraped in outline into the surface of the rock; in the Mann Ranges

also, certain nondescript designs were found lightly scratched upon the

surface of some diorite outcrops with a fragment of rock. At different

points in the northern Flinders Ranges, at Yunta, at Eureowie in New

South Wales, on the Flinders and Burnett Rivers in Queensland, and also

at Port Hedland in Western Australia, an extensive series of designs

occurs which has been chipped into the rocks with the aid of pointed

stone chisels. The carvings at Port Hedland and those in the Flinders

Ranges are very old indeed. In fact, they are so old that none of the

tribes now living remember anything about them, and refer to them as

being the handicraft of the Evil Spirit.

The most striking feature about the Port Jackson carvings is the large

size of individual designs, some of the fish measuring nearly thirty feet

in length, and some of the kangaroo over ten feet in height. That the

carvings have been made for generations past is evident from the fact

that in places a practically obliterated design has been covered, and

re-covered, with new designs.

At Port Hedland there are many acres of a low limestone plateau literally

covered with carvings, many of which are badly weather-beaten; several

of the carvings are of the scraped type found at Port Jackson. The

accompanying illustrations depict a chosen number of the Port Hedland

designs drawn to scale.

[Illustration: Fig. 10. Rock carvings at Port Hedland (× 1/20).]

[Illustration: Fig. 11. Rock Carvings at Port Hedland (× 1/20).]

[Illustration: Fig. 12. Rock carvings at Port Hedland (× 1/20).]

Among them we observe: Two turtles (_Figs._ 1 and 2), the one of

which (_Fig._ 1) being shown in a dorsal aspect, the other (_Fig._ 2)

apparently in a ventral; two large fish (_Figs._ 3 and 4) resembling the

Port Jackson type; a lizard track (_Fig._ 5), showing the trail of the

tail in the centre; a human foot-print (_Fig._ 7), with an emu track

above it; a large stingray (_Fig._ 8), with protruding eyes and long tail

standing erect; a shark’s liver (_Fig._ 9), at any rate, it was described

as such by a native; a stingray’s liver (_Fig._ 10); an emu track

(_Fig._ 11); a lizard (_Fig._ 12); shields (_Figs._ 16, 18, 19, 21,

30), variously decorated; boomerangs (_Figs._ 14, 15, 20, 27, 28, 32),

variously decorated; spear-throwers (_Figs._ 22 and 31); a corrobboree

plume (_Fig._ 33), such as is worn in the hair or stuck in the armlets

during many of the ceremonial dances; pubic tassels (_Figs._ 34, 35, 36),

used as a covering, suspended from a hair belt; a “circle-within-circle”

design (_Fig._ 39), often figuring conspicuously among emblematic and

ceremonial patterns; a human foot-print (_Fig._ 37); a dog track (_Fig._

38); a lizard (_Fig._ 41); a group of figures (_Fig._ 40), consisting of

a spiral, of similar significance as _Fig._ 39, a chain of turkey tracks

on the right, and three paired tracks of a bounding wallaby on the left.

One or two of the remaining smaller figures are of doubtful meaning, the

most remarkable being _Fig._ 25, which for an aboriginal ideograph is

extraordinarily complex and symmetrical.

[Illustration: _PLATE XXXVIII_

1. Singing to the presiding spirit or Knaninja of the old women or

“_Arrekutja Tjuringa_.”

2. Ceremonial head-gear (“_Tjilba Purra_”) of phallic significance.]

We shall next consider a number of figures in this series which have to

do with the human form. In some cases the attempts at representing the

human body have been very crude (_Figs._ 17, 45, 46), and it would be

difficult to recognize the results if it were not for the association

of these figures with others in which the human form is more evident.

In _Fig._ 13 we behold a man whose attitude suggests that he is either

walking or dancing; in all probability the former, because his body

is not in any way decorated to suggest a ceremony. But when we look

at _Fig._ 42, our attention is drawn to the fact that the man there

represented is wearing a pubic tassel hanging from his belt, carrying

a tall head-gear, and has tribal markings or scars upon his chest;

moreover, in this case the eyes and mouth are shown, but not the

nose. In _Figs._ 6, 43, and 44, pubic appendages are shown, which in

all probability are intended to represent a hair tassel in the first

instance, and pearl shell in the others; head-gears are also indicated.

All the figures have the arms extended as if a dancing attitude were

attempted by the artist. It is most unusual to find all the facial

features, including the chin, represented as in _Fig._ 44. There is no

neck shown in any of the last-mentioned figures, although in other cases

(_Fig._ 13) it is clearly indicated. It will be observed that in several

of the figures (_Figs._ 6, 42, 44), the feet are represented by their

tracks. The only remaining figure is that of a dancing gin (_Fig._ 29),

the characteristic position of whose arms suggests the dance during which

they hold a skein of hair or fibre-string between their hands to jerk it

to and fro.

A real illustration of the Port Hedland type of carving is presented in

Plate XL, 1, but owing to the carving occurring upon a horizontal plane,

the tilting of the camera, which was necessary, has rather seriously

distorted the design. A correct copy is, however, included among the

designs reproduced on page 300 (_Fig._ 10, 6).

Turning now to the pre-historic carvings of the Flinders Ranges and

other localities cited, it would be impossible to discuss the enormous

number of designs in anything like detail, without unduly burdening the

dimensions of this volume. At certain places, like Deception Creek and

Yunta, the carvings are so numerous that it is difficult to find a space

entirely devoid of any; the places are deserving of being ranked as

primitive art galleries, and every endeavour should be made to preserve

them as such. Considerable care must have been taken in the execution

of these carvings, since either the outline or the entire area of every

design has been diligently chipped away. And the work of hours must have

run into the labour of years, yea, of generations, because at one or two

spots like Yunta one design has been carved over the top of another,

time after time, until eventually the ground appeared as though it were

covered with an elaborate carpet. A few illustrations only will be

selected to serve as types of the handiwork to be found in such great

profusion.

In the first picture (Plate XL, 2), a design will be observed near

the centre consisting of seven parallel vertical lines lying beneath

a horizontal band. From what we have learned above, we shall have no

difficulty in recognizing the shape of a pubic tassel or apron, so

commonly used throughout Australia. Immediately to the left of this is

the image of a long lizard clearly and wholly intagliated into the rock;

whilst just above the tassel, and a little to the right of it, stands the

form of a creature with two legs, a plump body, two large eyes (appearing

like circles at the top), and an elevated beak between them—this is the

representation of an owl! About midway between owl and lizard is a small

mark resembling an inverted broad arrow which stands for the track of a

bustard, commonly called wild turkey.

The next illustration (Plate XLI, 1) may, for convenience of discussion,

be divided into two halves by the joint-fissure which is seen running

vertically down the middle of the picture. In the centre of the left-hand

half, the dark, and deeply pitted, shape of a human foot-print, with the

toes pointing upwards, will be apparent. Upon the brightly illuminated

surface above it, the vertical strands of a pubic tassel are indistinctly

visible; whilst on the left of the foot-print a small wallaby track has

been cut, in which the long median toes, as well as the lateral, have

been truly imitated. Beneath the latter, upon the elevated portion of

rock, is a single corrobboree circle. But the most interesting figure

is near the centre of the right-hand half of the picture; the creature

it most resembles is the duck-billed platypus. The “duck-bill” is very

conspicuous, whilst the head, the plump body, and the stumpy tail all

agree with the appearance of the platypus, even to the claws, which are

clearly seen on the right hind leg. It is, of course, possible that the

carving was intended to stand for a native “hedge-hog” or _Echidna_, but

the former explanation would seem more true to Nature. The remaining

carvings are principally representations of the paired spoors of wallaby

and kangaroo.

The following two photographs (Plate XLI, 2, and Plate XLII, 1) present

similar subjects, the carvings consisting of an array of corrobboree

circles, human foot-prints, and tracks of wallaby, kangaroo, and turkey.

A new feature is contained in the upper illustration in the shape of the

claws of kangaroo or possibly of the human hand; these are seen in the

top right-hand quarter.

[Illustration: _PLATE XXXIX_

A disenchanted area, Victoria River district.

“This area, mostly oval or circular in shape, remains a strict taboo

to all beyond its confines, and is believed to disenchant any morbid

influence the evil spirit may bring to bear upon it.”]

It will be admitted that these primitive carvings or petroglyphs of

the northern Flinders Ranges have more than a passing resemblance to

the ancient graffiti of Egypt. It will be noticed, too, that the last

illustration includes a slab of rock upon which some of the designs only

occur in part. This is because the slab has fallen from its original

position, since the carvings were made upon it; and so, at several

points, portion of a design can be seen upon a rock lying in the valley,

whilst the piece belonging to it might be detected, still _in situ_, up

in a cliff. This in itself seems to suggest that the work of ages has

been going on since the ancient artists put their talents to a test.

It is astounding to what height above the level of the ground the natives

must have climbed to decorate the rock faces with their carvings; in many

instances atmospheric denudation has so altered the shape of the cliffs

that it would be impossible at the present day to reach some of the

designs, to say nothing of finding a footing to undertake the carving.

But more, several cases were observed where a design was bisected by a

gaping fissure; all the evidence was in favour of the separated portions

of the design having originally been contiguous, but subsequent earth

movement had forced them asunder. In addition to the actual cleft

existing between the two portions of a design, cases were noted where a

slight faulting had occurred along the fissure, through which one side of

the disrupted design stood at a measurably higher level than the other.

The strongest geological evidence in support of the great antiquity of

these carvings, however, is in the presence of a dark rust-coloured

_patina_ or glossy surface film which everywhere covers the exposures of

the rock and carvings as well. These protective films are characteristic

of all desert and arid regions. In Egypt, it has been ascertained that

the presence of the patina is a ready means of distinguishing primitive

carvings from those made within historic reckoning. Professor G.

Schweinfurth, the famous Egyptologist, has pointed out that whereas the

prehistoric carvings are covered by the patina, the incised hieroglyphics

of even the fifth and sixth Dynasty at El Kab are as fresh-looking as

though they had been carved yesterday. In some of the Australian examples

there is no appreciable difference between the thickness of the film on

the rock and that covering the design; in others the designs look quite

fresh, or, if they show anything at all, it is but a rudimentary glaze.

The conclusion is that some of the Australian designs must, upon this

evidence alone, be regarded as extremely old.

But there is further evidence. If we could definitely claim the platypus

design as authentic, it would mean that the ancient artist was familiar

with the form of an animal which at the present time is quite unknown

in central Australia. But geology tells us that in times gone by, in

the Pliocene period, perhaps even later, all the great lake systems

of the Australian interior were not salt, as they are now, but fresh

water. Under those conditions, it is quite feasible that the duck-billed

monotreme might easily have lived in that region; if so, it might have

supplied prehistoric man in Australia with a model he perpetuated in the

rocks.

The platypus design is by no means unique. Among the carvings at Yunta

there are several depicting the spoor of a very large animal, which

are rounded at one end like a heel and have four or five serrations

resembling toe-marks at the other. The picture is not unlike that of a

wombat track, but the dimensions are far too great. The Yunta “tracks”

measure nearly ten inches in length and are practically the same in

width. There is no animal living in Australia at the present time

whose track would be anything like as large; the nearest known animal

which might answer the form of the carving would perhaps be that of a

hippopotamus. This animal is, of course, not indigenous to Australia,

but we know that an extinct animal, probably not unlike a hippopotamus,

used to roam the fertile plains of central Australia in Pliocene times;

that was the _Diprotodon_. In the accompanying sketch I have placed a

tracing of the Yunta carving beside one of the reconstructed _manus_ of

the Diprotodon, and one must admit that there is a plausible agreement

between the two. Vide Fig. 13.

[Illustration: Fig. 13. Sketch of reconstructed manus of _Diprotodon_

compared with tracing of carving of supposed _Diprotodon_ track at Yunta

(× 1/8).]

An aboriginal never exaggerates the dimensions of a track when drawing

from Nature. Upon this point, indeed, he is most exacting, because upon

an accurate knowledge of and familiarity with such things his very

livelihood depends, and the acquisition of accuracy represents part of

the recognized standard of his educational system. He would never, for

instance, draw the track of a wallaby larger than it is in reality,

because confusion would immediately arise as to whether it might not be

that of a kangaroo or euro; and if he drew it smaller than it actually

is, doubt would be raised as to whether it might not represent the track

of a kangaroo-rat, or even of a marsupial mouse. So, too, when he wishes

to draw a turkey track, he has to be careful, because if he makes it

bigger than it should be, it might be mistaken for that of an emu; and if

he makes it smaller, people who see the track might take it to be that of

a curlew, or even of a plover.

For the above reason alone, a native would never draw the track of a

wombat on the elaborate scale of the Yunta carving. Furthermore, there

are some exceptionally large bird tracks carved into the rocks at

Balparana, in the Flinders Ranges, which seem too big to be intended for

those of an emu; the question might reasonably be asked whether they

could not have been made by a primitive hunter at a time when the now

extinct “moa” or _Genyornis_ still lived in Australia.

A type of decorative art quite similar to the ancient rock carvings,

though on a much smaller scale, is to be found on the stone-tjuringas of

the Arunndta, Tjingali, and other central Australian tribes. The designs,

like those on the wooden objects, consist largely of engraved circles,

straight and sinuous lines, and tracks of totemic significance. The

intaglios are usually tinted with red ochre.

Leaving the discussion of carved rocks and stones for the time being, and

directing our attention to the subject of carved trees, we find that this

interesting cult flourished principally in the tribal territories which

are now included in the State of New South Wales and the extreme southern

portion of Queensland, the haunts of tribes now practically extinct.

The design or decoration was either carved straight into the bark, or

the latter was previously removed and the cutting done in the sapwood or

heartwood. Great variety was displayed in the choice of designs. Some

were crude and unshapely, others neatly and cleanly cut and of intricate

pattern; among them were perfect geometrical designs, consisting of

groups of circles and quadrilateral figures, usually concentric and often

combined with parallel, wavy, zig-zag, or spiral lines; yet another

class of design would consist of some animal or human form, more or less

grotesquely modified.

The object of this elaborate tree-carving was of a twofold nature.

Firstly a certain number of trees would be so treated, within the

immediate surroundings of the grave of a notable tribesman, to

permanently mark the place of sepulchre; and, secondly, the butt of a

tree commanding the ground of an initiation ceremony might have been so

distinguished, if the importance of the occasion warranted it.

Along the north-west coast of Australia, where the boabab tree

flourishes, the tribes often carve animalistic and other designs into the

bark, which, on account of its softness, lends itself admirably for the

purpose. The carvings are usually to be found near a camp or at the site

of an ordinary corroboree ground. The designs, once they have been cut

into the bark, remain there during the life of the tree. The accompanying

illustration (Plate XLII, 2) depicts an emu, which stands three feet

high, carved into a boabab off King Sound, Western Australia. The whole

of the bark within the area occupied by the design has been removed. The

feet, it will be observed, are portrayed in a perfectly free way in order

to leave no doubt in the mind of an observer as to the track the bird

actually makes. Two other figures stood beside the emu, cut in a similar

way into the bark of the same tree; one was a snake, a shade over five

feet in length, the other an emu track.

In place of the carved trees, the Melville and Bathurst Islanders erect

carved and painted posts around the graves of their people—men, women,

and children alike. These pillars, which are of hard and heavy wood, are

from four to six feet high, circular in section, and have the top carved

into a “head” of one or other of the patterns drawn in the accompanying

figure. The top of the pillar is either flat, rounded, or pointed, the

“head” being formed by cutting one or more circumferential grooves of

chosen width, and at chosen distances, below the top. At times an oblong

hole is cut transversely through the post five or six inches from the

top, leaving only two narrow strips of timber, one on either side, to

support the “head” thus formed. Vide Fig. 14.

[Illustration: Fig. 14. Carved grave posts of Melville and Bathurst

Islanders (× 1/40).]

Designs and patterns quite similar to, but on a smaller scale than those

cut on trees, are found carved upon weapons of some of the tribes.

Shields and spear-throwers are those most commonly found decorated with

incised patterns. Some of the hardwood shields of the River Murray tribes

are richly incised with parallel, zig-zag, and geniculate lines, and

with squares standing point to point in a longitudinal line, all the

spaces between the squares being filled in with parallel “elbows.” The

Worora tribe at Port George IV, on the other hand, decorate their shields

with fantastic representations of snakes, emus, and tracks of various

animals. The light-wood shields of central Australia are destitute of

any ornamentation except wide and shallow longitudinal grooves, which

are also characteristic of the bark food-carriers in use all over the

continent of Australia.

So far as spear-throwers are concerned, the handsomely carved specimens

produced by the natives of the Warburton and Gascoyne Rivers, and of the

King Leopold Ranges in Western Australia, deserve special mention. The

favourite pattern in that region appears to be longitudinal geniculate

bands, alternately incised lengthwise and crosswise, together giving

the effect of a false herring-bone motive. A new element is introduced

in wood-carving in the ceremonial spear-throwers of central Australian

tribes by the inclusion of the concentric circles pattern already

referred to; the Arunndta in particular produce some very showy specimens

on gala occasions. The decoration is very finely graved upon the inner

flat surface. The old Victorian types occasionally had pictures of

animals, birds, and men carved upon them.

Boomerangs are often decorated with incised patterns, but more frequently

the decoration is only lightly graved into the wood with the point of a

stone-knife or with the sharp cutting edge of a shell, tooth, or bone.

From an art point of view, the finest productions come from the north

of Western Australia. The King Leopold Ranges natives cover one whole

side of their boomerangs with an incised pattern, consisting usually of

parallel geniculate lines, false herring-bone, or concentric rhomboids

posed along a median line. Some of the most attractive specimens,

however, come from the Pidunga tribe at Broome. These natives covered

both surfaces of the missile with a wonderful variety of designs, which

included excellent representations of emu, kangaroo, snakes, crocodiles,

turtle, tracks of every description, dancing men, corrobboree circles,

and many decorative designs. Other articles, such as adze-handles,

tjuringas, and message sticks, are carved after much the same fashion.

[Illustration: Fig. 15. Ochre drawing, Glenelg River, Western Australia

(× 1/8).]

There is yet another class of incised decorative art to record which is

found in the far north of Western Australia. The King Sound and other

natives of the northern Kimberley district have developed a cult quite

peculiar to themselves, in that they carve ornate designs upon the brown

surface of the large nuts of the boabab. The method they have adopted

is to hold the nut firmly in the left hand and work the designs into the

dark, outer layer of the shell with the sharp point of a bone, or, as is

the case nowadays, with the point of a piece of iron wire or of a pocket

knife. The instrument is held in the right hand, with the four fingers

against the palm, while the thumb is laid straight along it on top. The

nut is steadied against the body whilst the point of the instrument is

applied from the distant side. By applying semi-rotary movements with

the hand, the point is made to plough forwards, and by so doing the

thin, brown surface-skin is broken and falls away, leaving a white, and

slightly jagged, line upon a dark background. Many are the designs which

cover the surface of a boabab nut; and it must be admitted the artists

exercise considerable judgment in the grouping of the subjects displayed.

Among the more important figures are included animals, birds, reptiles,

fish, and human beings, besides many of a more complicated and less

apparent nature. Vide Plate XLIII, 1.

The north-western tribes, from Broome to Wyndham, and to a lesser extent

those of the Northern Territory, artistically decorate the pearl-shell

coverings they wear suspended from the belt by cutting designs into the

smooth surface of the inner shell of the oyster. By rubbing powdered

red ochre into the portions thus roughened, the carvings stand out in

bold contrast against the nacreous background. The designs are largely

conventional and often embody the human form; a few tracks of animals or

of birds are also occasionally added.

[Illustration: Fig. 16. Carved crocodile design on boabab nut, Derby

district, Western Australia (× 3/5). Tracing.]

Unlike his racial relative, who used to live in Europe during the Stone

Age, the Australian aboriginal does not pay much attention to the carving

of bone. The little he does, in fact, is more utilitarian than artistic.

We have had occasion to note that the old Murray River tribes used to

make the points of their spear-throwers of bone. In central Australia a

wing bone of the pelican is cut at both ends and worn through the septum

of the nose; occasionally one end is plugged with triodia resin whilst

the hollow in the opposite end carries a plume. Not infrequently the

slender ulna of a kangaroo serves a similar purpose; the shaft is cut

about six inches from one end and sharpened by scraping it with a stone

fragment; the condyles are left intact to represent the head of the pin.

Two types of bone fish-hooks have already been referred to.

The central tribes make a useful gouge out of a strong hollow bone of the

kangaroo or dingo by splitting it longitudinally and grinding down its

ends on the slope. The implement thus fashioned has a sharp, bevelled,

semi-cylindrical cutting edge at either one or both ends.

We now come to the consideration of another big and important branch of

primitive art, which comprises the charcoal, kaolin, and ochre drawings

of the aboriginal of Australia. As did his palæolithic relative in the

Old World, the aboriginal during the rainy season spends much of his time

under the cover of overhanging rock shelters, well within the cheerful

influence of his never-failing fire. Moreover, in mid-summer months,

when the heat of the sun becomes intense, he often finds his way to

the same haunts to have the full benefit of the shade the solid walls

of rock produce. Congregated under these conditions, there are always

some who spend their time in decorating the surrounding walls of the

cave. This may be done for purely æsthetic reasons, or as the result

of a discussion, or, indeed, to sanctify the abode and so to make it

impregnable to the Evil Spirit. Whatever the reason may be, the mere act

of drawing a figure upon the wall by a recognized artist always solicits

the patronage of many, who will follow the different manipulations of

the entertainer with considerable interest. There are usually a few men

in every tribe who have established a reputation as artists; and their

work is prized by the heads and protected by tribal law from the hands of

vandals who would at a frivolous moment deface or disfigure a work of art

which the tribe is proud to look upon as their own. It is gratifying to

observe that there is very little tendency on the part of the aboriginal,

humble as he is, to destroy wantonly or deliberately a work designed to

create an environment for him during his leisure or to protect his body

and kin against aggression by evil during the darkness of night.

[Illustration: Fig. 17. “_Dangorra_,” the great emu in the southern sky.]

Usually the interior of rock shelters and caves has, in consequence of

long ages of weathering and mineral precipitation, become deeply stained

and dark in colour. In addition, the continued burning of fires within

has helped to smut the stony roof. This condition makes an admirable

background for the application of colour. Where the wall is black,

charcoal naturally finds no favour, and the pigments available are

reduced to white, yellow, and red.

Pipe-clay and ochres are always stocked in quantity; not a tribe in the

whole of Australia has ever been known to be without them. Where the

tribal ground is not in possession of natural deposits, supplies are

obtained from a neighbouring tribe, it may be from considerable distance,

by barter or by an actual expedition to the ochre mine.

In quite the same sense as modern peoples refer to red ochre as

blood-stone, the natives of Australia connect the formation of the

natural, red pigment with blood mythologically.

There is a fine deposit of red ochre in the Flinders Ranges, near

Parachilna, which for ages past has supplied more than one tribe with

pigment; the mine was known as Yarrakinna. The ochre was regarded as the

blood of a sacred emu which was there killed by a horde of wild dogs.

From time immemorial the “Salt-water Tribe” used to send a number of its

men across from Queensland to obtain a large supply of the precious stone

at the spot and return with it to their native ground.

The expedition would be under the leadership of an old man, and his party

would consist of young men who had recently been initiated. The journey

was a long and arduous undertaking, and young fellows were selected in

order that their strength and powers of endurance might be put to the

test. When they reached to within a certain stage of the mine, the old

man ordered everybody to discard any belongings he might be carrying,

and, upon a given signal, the party, led by the old man, began to run

towards a big hill which stood before them. Many a hurdle was in their

way, but it was imperative that they kept running. Then they took the

sloping ground, and presently a large boulder lay in front of them; this

the young men were informed was the petrified dog which had killed the

emu. Each in his turn was asked to throw a stone at it as he skipped by.

Next, they came upon a group of stones which they were told represented

the cursed remains of the female dog and pups. As the names of these were

mentioned, each of the men again threw stones.

[Illustration: Fig. 18. Boomerang with a number of emu designs carved

upon it, Pidunga tribe, Broome (× 1/7.) Tracing.]

Suddenly the party was ordered to halt. Just ahead of them was the

platform of rock upon which the sacred emu had expired. The men were

requested to remain where they stood and to keep silent whilst the old

fellow made for a chasm below the platform. He returned not long after,

with his hands full of rich red ochre, which he rubbed over the bodies of

his young attendants. Thereupon all present cut off their beards, which

they had been wearing long purposely for the occasion, and walked in a

body to the chasm. “The great Emu wants feathers,” they exclaimed, “we

offer her the token of our manhood”; and, as they spoke, they threw the

beards into the chasm below. Then each man was allowed to fill his bag

with red ochre, and, placing it upon his head, he ran down the hill to

the place at which he left his belongings. Nobody was allowed to look

back; and should, by accident, a bag of ochre be dropped on the way, it

had to be left just where it fell, and under no circumstances picked up

again.

According to the Kukata, there was once an old man who had several wild

dogs, which were ferocious in habit, generally, but obeyed their master.

One day, when he was out hunting, he saw the track of a kangaroo which

he made up his mind to follow. He had his little daughter with him, and,

not thinking it advisable to take her with him into the scrub, he decided

to leave her to play on a clay-pan while he followed his prey into the

hills. He captured the kangaroo and returned to the clay-pan, but imagine

his disgust when he found that his dogs had, during his absence, killed

his child and devoured her flesh.

In his wrath, the old man chased the dogs into the hills at the point

of his spears, until eventually he drove them into a cave, the entrance

of which he closed with a number of large stones. The wounded dogs in

their plight attacked one another and tore themselves to pieces. In

consequence, their blood poured freely into the cave and soaked deeply

into the rocks. Ever since, the tribe have gone to that cave to collect

supplies of the “blood-stained” rock—the red ochre—which they require for

their ceremonies and corrobborees.

Ochre and pipe-clay, which form an article for inter-tribal barter, are

carried from one tribe to another in oblong parcels contained in bark

wraps, which are folded at the ends and kept together with fibre-string.

Small quantities are always carried by the men in their chignons and

dilly bags, and, when larger supplies are required for special occasions,

they are consigned to the care of the women.

When ochre is required for decorative purposes, it is necessary to reduce

it to a fine powder. This is done by placing a measured amount upon a

level surface of rock and grinding it with the aid of a medium-sized

pebble. Hand-mills of this description are to be found at any sites which

natives have been in the habit of embellishing with their drawings; they

may be recognized as small, shallow depressions scooped into the surface

by the continued abrasion of the hand-piece. Where there is no flat,

natural surface available, the grinding is done upon portable slabs the

women carry around from one camp to another.

[Illustration: Fig. 19. Charcoal sketch of crows, Pigeon Hole, Victoria

River (× 1/3). Tracing.]

The ochre (or pipe-clay), having been finely ground, it is collected upon

a piece of bark, or in a bark food-carrier, and mixed with sufficient

water to make a thick paste; and it is ready for application. The

Bathurst Islanders use the large, concave shells of _Cyrena_ in much the

same way as European artists formerly used the valves of fresh-water

mussels (_Unio pictorum_) for mixing their pigments in.

[Illustration: Fig. 20. Pipe-clay cave-drawings of dancing figures,

Humbert River, Northern Territory (× 1/12).]

The native spreads the paint with his fingers, where larger surfaces are

concerned, and with a short stick where finer lines or details are to be

added. The Bathurst Islanders cut short pieces off the green shoots of

the lawyer-cane (_Calamus_) and chew one or both ends of the sticks until

all the fibres have been separated; these then fulfil the same purpose as

the paint brushes of a modern artist.

[Illustration: _PLATE XL_

1. Rock-carving of human form, Port Hedland.

2. Rock-carvings of lizard, pubic-tassel, and owl, Flinders Ranges.]

A favourite practice, and one which is met with all over the continent,

is to obtain a “negative” shape of a person’s hand. This is done in the

following way: The person puts a small handful of ochre or pipe-clay

into his mouth and crunches it to a pulp; then he fills his mouth with

water and thoroughly mixes the contents. He holds the hand he wishes to

stencil against a flat surface, spacing the fingers at equal distances,

and spurts the contents of his mouth all about it. A short while after,

the hand is withdrawn. The area which it covered remains in its natural

condition, whilst the space surrounding it has adopted the colour of the

ochre or clay. Very often the “hand” is subsequently painted over with a

colour different from that of the surrounding area. The Arunndta refer to

the hand-marks as “_ilja imbadja_.” Vide Plate XLIV.

[Illustration: Fig. 21. Charcoal drawing of hopping kangaroos, Pigeon

Hole, Victoria River (× 1/6). Tracing.]

A native attaches considerable importance to his identity being thus

recorded and preserved in some of the caves, believing the brand to stand

for his individuality with as much certitude as, say, the European who

leaves his card or carves his name in stone or wood. It is compulsory

for members of a certain rank in the Worora tribe to have their

“hand-shadows” perpetuated upon the walls of caves in which the bones of

their ancestors are reposed, because the spirits of the dead are thus

supposed to be apprised of any visits which have been made to their last

earthly resting places.

It is beyond dispute that the natives possess the faculty of being able

to recognize the hand-marks of their relatives and tribesmen, even though

they may not have been present when they were made.

Less frequently, the negative imprint process is applied to a person’s

feet or any of his private belongings, such as stone tomahawks. At times,

too, the hand is smeared over with ochre and then smacked against a

surface to obtain a positive. Vide Plate XLIV, 2.

The number of ochre drawings one finds on rock surfaces is naturally

unlimited, especially when extending observations over the whole of

Australia; and the variety in regard to subject, colour, composition, and

execution is correspondingly large.

Without at this stage attempting to delve deeply into the consideration

of individual designs and their artistic merits, let us cast our eyes

for a moment upon an illustration, which might be considered typical,

to familiarize ourselves with the general appearance of Australian cave

drawings (Plate XLV, 1). We have before us a rock shelter or _abris_

on the Forrest River in the north of Western Australia, a more or

less vertical wall at the base, overhung at the top by a solid ledge

or “roof” of quartzite. For the better part of the day this spot is

protected from the intense heat of a tropical sun; and during the “wet

season,” also, it provides a shelter from the prolific rains. But a

casual glance at the picture suffices to convince one of the presence of

a number of conspicuous designs drawn in ochre upon the rock faces. One

in particular, that of a huge snake, immediately catches the eye, but if

a careful scrutiny of the lower portion of the escarpment is made, many

other smaller designs will be discovered.

When the rocky background is light-coloured, and not sooty, the artists

often include charcoal drawings among the coloured ochre designs. The

native applies the charcoal either in the form of a powder with the aid

of his fingers, or he selects a piece of charred wood, big enough to hold

between his fingers, and this he uses after the fashion a modern artist

does a crayon. According to the method employed, the result is either

a figure blackened all over, or a line drawing, shaded here and there.

Some particularly creditable charcoal drawings were obtained near Pigeon

Hole on the Victoria River in the Northern Territory; these are described

later.

[Illustration: Fig. 22. Bark-drawing depicting an eagle-hawk clawing and

tearing the carcass of a wallaby, Port Darwin.]

An aboriginal not only paints the sides of the caves he temporarily

occupies, but he also delights in decorating the sheets of bark which in

certain districts, such as the north coast of Australia and Melville and

Bathurst Islands, are used for making his huts waterproof. The method he

adopts in applying ochre to bark is precisely similar to that already

considered in connection with his cave drawings. And we might at the same

time extend these remarks to the decorative designs which appear in such

profusion upon his spears, shields, boomerangs, spear-throwers, waddies,

clubs, food and water carriers, dilly bags, ceremonial objects, personal

ornaments, and, in fact, anything he has occasion to manufacture and

handle.

A special variety of ochre drawing which may justify a few remarks is the

tribal body decoration. We know that as a simple, but effective, means

of protecting his skin against the weather, an aboriginal periodically

anoints his body with emu fat; moreover, to evade detection by the game

he is stalking, he often covers his body with ochre, earth, or clay to

simulate the colour of his surroundings as nearly as possible. But for

reasons, to him entirely cosmetic, he finds occasion to rub red ochre

powder (and charcoal also) over his face and body.

[Illustration: Fig. 23. Pipe-clay drawing of man and dogs, Humbert River

(× 1/12).]

He has a distinct liking for the beautiful and does not hesitate to avail

himself of anything which might tend to make his person more attractive

looking by the application of colour. Not only the sire, but the whole

family endeavour to improve their swarthy appearance by painting ornate

designs over different regions of their bodies. Longitudinal, parallel

bands of red, yellow, or black, extending up the legs, back, and abdomen,

together with transverse lines on the chest, shoulders, upper arms, and

outer surfaces of thighs, are symmetrically drawn, and connected here

and there (as, for instance, on the chest or back) by lattice patterns

and concentric circles. Parents are very proud of their children thus

decorated. On the Forrest River, a favourite mode is to draw a broad

step-ladder-like pattern from the ankles up the front surfaces of the

legs, continuing this up the trunk to about the level of the nipples, and

then circling outwards, down an arm on either side, to run out at the

elbow. This design is usually painted in yellow.

[Illustration: _PLATE XLI_

1. Rock carvings (including platypus design), Flinders Ranges.

2. Rock carvings, Flinders Ranges.]

[Illustration: Fig. 24. Charcoal sketch of native hunting buffalo, Pigeon

Hole, Victoria River (× 1/3). Tracing.]

We have frequently referred to the fact that during corrobborees and

ceremonial dances, the bodies of the performers are decorated. White

pipe-clay is one of the principal pigments used, although red ochre is

also much in evidence. In the performance of ceremonies, we learned that

a common motive embodied in the decorations was the human skeleton. The

quickest, and perhaps most effective, way of whitening the face in the

representation of the skull is for the performer to literally “wash” it

in finely crushed pipe-clay. To accomplish this, he scoops a quantity

of the material with his hands, and, closing his eyes, rubs the stuff

all over his face and possibly his head, too. By this process even

the eyelids are thoroughly whitened. The other lines, horizontal and

vertical, which are to represent the bones, he rubs on to the body with

his fingers (Plate XLVI).

[Illustration: Fig. 25. Charcoal sketch of native spearing kangaroo,

Pigeon Hole, Victoria River (× 2/5). Tracing.]

Another method is to apply the paint in the form of a water mixture,

similar to that described when discussing the ochre drawings. For this

purpose, especially when an important event is pending, a number of men

are chosen to attend to the “make up” of the performers. The assistants

kneel beside those who are to act, and apply the paste with their

fingers. The most delicate parts to handle are the eyelids. The actor is

required to close his eyes whilst the artist carefully applies the paste

to the lids; but it occasionally happens that some of the material slips

on to the eyeball and is rubbed against it before the sufferer can give

the alarm. Vide Plate XLV, 2.

We have already referred to the coloured down decorations which are

attached with human blood to the bodies of the performers taking part

in sacred and other ceremonies, and we have also mentioned a ground

drawing known as “_Etominja_” (Plate XXXVII), which is constructed in a

similar way. Some of the latter (e.g. the “walk-about” of the “_Tjilba

Purra Altjerra Knaninja_”) are very large; others, as for instance that

connected with the “_Erriakutta_” or yelka ceremony, are constructed over

the entire surface of mounds which cover many square feet of ground.

Having briefly reviewed the different methods of art production in vogue

in Australia, we shall proceed to consider a number of the designs

in greater detail, deduce their origin, trace their evolution, and,

where possible, give their interpretation. It will be realized at the

outset that some of the designs are crude in the extreme, whilst others

are undeniably shapely and quite up to the standard of an average

European’s artistic proficiency. The latter remarks apply best to

actual representations of natural forms. It must be remembered that the

artistic reproductions an aboriginal makes are invariably from memory;

the primitive artist never draws with a model in front of him. If we were

to ask a number of Europeans to draw, say a horse from memory, there is

no doubt we should receive a great variety of results in response to our

request. So, among the aboriginal artists, there is a great diversity of

talent which is more individual than tribal.

If, for instance, we study the different attempts at representing the

form of one of the most familiar subjects we could ask an aboriginal to

experiment upon—the ubiquitous kangaroo —we should find by comparison of

the productions placed before us, a very marked difference in quality.

Compare, for instance, the two pictures of kangaroo on Plate XLVII. They

are the works of men of the same tribe, are all similarly drawn, and

come from the same locality. Yet, in the upper picture, the outline and

proportions of the two animals are so incorrect that it is very doubtful

whether many people not acquainted with the locality would guess what

animal the pictures are intended to represent. In the lower picture,

however, anybody acquainted with the shape of a kangaroo would have no

hesitation in pronouncing his diagnosis. The characteristic attitude,

the large tail, the disproportion between the front and hind limbs,

and the shape of the head are quite true enough to nature to permit of

correct identification.

[Illustration: Fig. 26. Carving depicting a quarrel between a man and his

gin. Arunndta tribe (× 1/2). Tracing.]

The three designs are all drawn in charcoal, the figures in the first

two cases being outlined with a white pipe-clay line, and in the second

case with one of yellow ochre. If we wish to go one better still, we need

only study the pipe-clay drawing on bark by a native of the Katherine

River district shown on Plate XLIX, 1—a very creditable picture of a dead

kangaroo.

Some of the designs one meets with are so accurately drawn that a

scientific determination of the species becomes possible. Look for a

moment at the fish, portrayed in pipe-clay, shown in Plate XLVIII. The

piscine nature of the form, here depicted on rocks, is not only apparent,

but it is possible to say with some certainty that the two shown swimming

belong to the _Toxotes_, which are commonly called Archer Fish. The

form shown in Plate XLIX, 4, is unquestionably meant to be one of the

_Therapon_ species. Both kinds of fish are known to be living in the

Katherine River, not far from the site at which these pictures were drawn.

But if, on the other hand, some of the designs are so poor as to be

barely recognizable or even quite unrecognizable by us, how does the

aboriginal manage? When the artist is present, he can explain. But he is

not always available!

If, by way of illustration, we were asked to say definitely what the

meaning of the central figure on Plate L, 1, was we should in all

probability want to know more about it before committing ourselves. But

an aboriginal can give us a correct reply immediately. The locality at

which the photograph was obtained is north of the Musgrave Ranges in

central Australia. But that does not give us any clue. After studying

the picture more closely, we might be able to distinguish the outline of

a quadruped, the four legs being shown, one behind the other, in a row,

and a big head on the right-hand side, in a position suggesting that the

animal is feeding. But these are characteristics common to many animals!

So far, therefore, we have seen nothing to suggest the class of animal we

are dealing with. When we look again, we might note that there is a crude

image of a human being shown on the back of the animal; and behind this

is a structure which might stand for a saddle. We guess the answer and

claim that the group is a very poor drawing of a man on horseback.

But there are other animals a man could ride! And when we look again, we

observe that the second leg of the animal, counting from the right, has a

peculiar enlargement attached to its lower end. That structure is the key

to the riddle; it represents the track of the animal! Those familiar with

the great beast of burden, now used extensively in central Australia,

will recognize the two-toed spoor of a camel.

This method of pictorial elucidation is by no means exceptional. We

have already noticed something similar in the ancient carvings at Port

Hedland, where the human foot-print is added to disperse any doubt which

may be entertained in so far as the correct interpretation of the figure

is concerned. A similar device is well exemplified in the accompanying

sketch of an ochre drawing of a human form from the Glenelg River

district in the northern Kimberleys of Western Australia (Fig. 15). In

the carving of an emu from the King Sound district, which is reproduced

in Plate XLII, 2, we noticed the same sort of thing.

[Illustration: Fig. 27. Ochre-drawing of spear-boomerang duel, Arunndta

tribe (× 1/2). Tracing.]

The cases before us are not accidental, but we have acquainted ourselves

with the recognized determinative system of Australian pictographs which

is quite analogous to that known to have been practised by the ancient

Egyptians. Consider, for instance, the character signifying “to love”—a

human figure in profile with one hand lifted to the level of the mouth.

The same figure, with a few parallel wavy lines, signifying water, drawn

against it, means no longer “to love,” but “to drink.” The wavy lines

in this instance are the determinative. In the Australian illustrations

given above, we have selected samples which are easily followed, but

there are many cases where the reading would be quite impossible if it

were not for the presence of the little, subsidiary, determinative sketch.

In his endeavour to make the meaning of some of his designs clear, a

native often embodies as many features as possible, quite regardless

as to whether in reality they would all be visible in the one plane he

is drawing. In the picture of a crocodile appearing on a boabab-nut

from the Derby district in Western Australia, shown in Fig. 16, it will

be observed that the reptile, in spite of having its dorsal surface

represented, has its vent indicated. The long, slender muzzle of this

figure, by the way, makes it clear that the smaller species of the two

northern Australian crocodiles (_C. Johnstoni_) is intended. The human

figure, too, very often appears half in full and half in profile.

The aboriginal is a keen observer, and takes careful note of many things

besides a kangaroo, a snake track, or other similar natural objects

which may lead him to his daily bread. When travelling in the Buccaneer

Archipelago in the far north-west I remember one of the natives drawing

my attention to a peculiar formation in the clouds, and saying, in the

Sunday Island dialect: “_Arrar ninmiddi_,” which means, literally:

“Cloud knee.” My instructor proceeded to draw the extraordinary shape

he could see with his finger upon the hatchway of the pearling lugger

we were sailing in, after which he completed the figure of a man. I

was struck with this man’s faculty of observation, because the cloud

effect he referred to was rather out of the common and projected from a

cirro-cumulus like the bent limb of a swastica.

It is in this way that many inspirations come to the cave artist.

Repeatedly one has occasion to notice how a pre-existing feature or

defect in the rock face—a crevice, a floor, a concretion—becomes the

centre piece of a design drawn to suit it. The feature one finds most

commonly embodied in a cave drawing is a small hole. This often figures

in the place of an animal’s eye, or a hole into which a snake is

disappearing. A local bulge in the rock may also be taken in as part of a

design and represent portion of a head or body.

Not only does the artist embody suitable natural features in his designs,

but, conversely, he also applies his knowledge of form to explain already

existing phenomena in the world about him. The embodiment of his artistic

ideas in his poetical explanations of Nature’s wonders plays, as might

be expected, an important role in his mythology. These remarks apply

especially to any striking characteristics in the sky. When among the

tribes of the Musgrave Ranges, I ascertained that the black-looking gap

in the Milky Way, close to the Southern Cross, which is commonly known

as the Coal Sack, was referred to as “_Kaleya Pubanye_,” that is, the

“Resting Emu.”

[Illustration: Fig. 28. Charcoal sketch of ceremonial dance, Pigeon Hole,

Victoria River (× 1/6). Tracing.]

In the north of Australia, the Larrekiya, Wogait, and other tribes have

adopted a similar designation for a series of dark spaces along the Milky

Way. But they have extended the idea considerably in that the Coal Sack

represents only the head of a gigantic emu, the beak of which is pointed

towards the _Musca_ constellation (_i.e._ towards the south). A small

star of the Southern Cross group very appropriately stands for the eye

of the bird; the nebulous effect usually surrounding this star gives it

an extra life-like appearance. The neck is but faintly discernible near

the head, but becomes clearly visible in the neighbourhood of the nearer

Pointer; it passes between the two Pointers and curves slightly towards

the constellation of _Lupus_. Within the constellation of _Norma_, the

dark space widens considerably and represents the body of the emu.

The blunt tail turns sharply towards, and into, the constellation of

_Scorpio_. A nebulous patch lying practically on the point of junction

between the imaginary areas of _Ara_, _Scorpio_, and _Norma_ affords a

good division between the legs of the bird, whilst another lying between

μ and ζ of the Scorpion group separates the tail. The lower portions of

the legs are not very clear, but some of the more imaginative natives

maintain that they can distinguish three toes on each extremity. There is

no doubt the primitive eye has herein discovered a striking similarity

between an optical phenomenon in the southern sky and a living creature,

which is of great importance in the hunting field, and at the same time

plays a prominent role in tribal folk-lore. They refer to this emu by the

name of “_Dangorra_.” Vide Fig. 17.

[Illustration: _PLATE XLII_

1. Rock carvings, Flinders Ranges.

2. Emu design carved into the butt of a boabab tree, King Sound.]

[Illustration: Fig. 29. Remarkable cave drawing, Glenelg River, N.W.

Australia]

As affording a means of comparison, a hunting scene is reproduced carved

upon the surface of a club by aborigines of Victoria. The little group is

composed of an aboriginal hunter who in one hand is poising a spear and

in the other is carrying a boomerang; behind him are two emus standing

in much the same position as that assumed to be the case in the heavenly

image just described.

The Minning at Eucla recognize only the long neck of the emu in the sky,

and refer to it as “_Yirrerri_”; on the Nullarbor Plains the same portion

is looked upon as the heavenly tjuringa of the emu.

[Illustration: Fig. 30. Pictograph of lizard, natural and conventional

form.]

Speaking generally, there is perhaps no other creature living which

figures so frequently in aboriginal art, both on the cave wall and in

the dance, as the great struthious bird of Australia. This is no doubt

due in the first place to the admirable way in which it lends itself

for the purposes mentioned; its antics in the field suggest many tricks

for mimicry at a corrobboree, and its distinctive form supplies the

artist with a model which never fails to attract the attention of the

artistically inclined among his people. In Plate XLIX, 2, we have a

pipeclay drawing of an emu from the Katherine River which is rather

exceptional in that it shows the bird more _en face_ than is usual; the

proportions are, on the whole, good, except that the head is screwed

upwards in a rather strange way. On a boomerang from Broome (Fig. 18), we

have a series of engraved emu pictures, all in profile, and in different

attitudes.

On the whole, an aboriginal’s pictures are flat and without perspective.

He takes the inspiration direct from nature and reproduces the subject

singly, and as a separate entity; a number of such designs are drawn side

by side with or without pictographic sequence. But there are countless

occasions upon which artists, especially the more gifted, prefer to draw

a real scene from life, combining subject with action. Environment or

surroundings rarely, if ever, receive attention.

Take as a very simple illustration the lizard shown in the pipeclay rock

drawing from the Katherine River (Plate XLIX, 3). The general shape of

the body, together with the large and well-differentiated head, strongly

suggests a species of the large monitor which is common throughout the

district. The interesting feature about the picture is, however, the life

which is indicated by the fact that the reptile is drawn in the act of

shooting out a long, split tongue.

[Illustration: Fig. 31. Normal, conventional, and emblematic

representations of turtle.]

[Illustration: Fig. 32. Normal, conventional, and emblematic

representations of frog.]

Again, in the charcoal sketch of two crows from the Pigeon Hole district

(Fig. 19), one bird is represented in an attentive attitude, as though

on the point of flying away, while the other is very characteristically

shown in the act of cawing.

One could produce an almost endless variety of decorated figures,

representing men and women performing at ceremonial dances and

corrobborees to illustrate the life and action which is embodied in

aboriginal art. In Fig. 20 a selected number of pipe-clay drawings from

the Humbert River, Northern Territory, have been grouped together to

serve this purpose.

[Illustration: Fig. 33. Normal, conventional, and emblematic

representations of echidna.]

The most interesting effects, however, are those brought about by a

combination of two or more figures. How different, for instance, the two

kangaroo shown together in Fig. 21 seem to those previously discussed

(Plate XLVII). These are charcoal drawings from Pigeon Hole on the

Victoria River, and in them the hopping movement of the animals is

indicated very clearly. The animal in the rear is in full flight, as the

erect position of the tail and the general holding of the body betray;

but the one in the lead is on the point of drawing up and is turning its

head back towards its mate.

How realistic, too, the little bark drawing is from east of Port Darwin

(Fig. 22), in which a bird of prey is shown mounted upon a wallaby or

kangaroo, with its claws and beak embedded in the flesh of its victim.

[Illustration: _PLATE XLIII_

1. Carved boabab nut, King Sound.

2. “_Wanningi_” from north-western Australia.

3. Slate scrapers used by the extinct Adelaide tribe for trimming skins.]

A neat pipe-clay drawing from the remote Humbert River district is

presented in Fig. 23. The group, which is three feet in length, is

composed of a central figure of a man who is holding one arm on each side

towards a dog, as if offering them something to eat or for the purpose of

patting them. The dogs seem to be giving their attention to the man.

[Illustration: Fig. 34. Conventionalized “_Ladjia_” or yam Tjuringa

pattern.]

Two more charcoal drawings from Pigeon Hole, though roughly sketched by

the artist, depict very graphically scenes from the hunt. In one (Fig.

24), the hunter is in the act of stalking a buffalo or bullock with his

spear held in readiness to throw, while in the other the attitude of the

hunter indicates that the spear has just been thrown and is entering the

body of the prey, a kangaroo (Fig. 25).

The carving of an Arunndta man, reproduced in Fig. 26, is most effective.

An angry husband has been caught by the artist in the act of punishing

his wife with a waddy. The placement of the legs of the two persons

indicates stability on the part of the man engaged in the flagellation,

and a swinging movement on the part of the woman who is being held back

by her hand.

[Illustration: Fig. 35. A dog-track.]

We have already seen the carved representations of two stages in a

stone-knife duel by an Arunndta tribesman (Fig. 4), and here, in Fig. 27,

an ochre drawing is reproduced which is, if anything, more animated than

any previously discussed. A spear-boomerang duel is being fought, during

which each of the combatants is protecting himself with a shield. The

artist has evinced considerable talent in portraying the men just at the

moment when both are bounding through the air towards each other, the one

on the left parrying his opponent’s spear, while the other, on the right,

is preparing to receive the blow from the boomerang.

[Illustration: Fig. 36. A kangaroo-track.]

One might now go a step further in analyzing aboriginal art. The

productions we have studied so far embody the ideas of form, life, and

action; and, it might be added, occasionally one finds a very fair sense

of composition as well. Such, indeed, might already be said to be true of

several of the pictures discussed above, but a finer specimen lies before

us in the charcoal drawing from Pigeon Hole (Fig. 28). This faithfully

portrays a scene from a gala ceremony, in which the body of performers,

fully “dressed” for the occasion, are acting before the leader, who, in

his turn, is being supported by two others in the foreground. It must

be admitted that the composition of this group of figures is remarkably

good, and, what is quite exceptional, a very successful attempt has been

made at perspective. All figures are shown in different attitudes of

dancing. The impression this charcoal drawing gives one, at first glance,

is that of a rough sketch in crayon resembling the outline a European

artist might make on his canvas prior to starting upon the actual

painting.

[Illustration: Fig. 37. A rabbit track.]

Leaving that section of aboriginal art which deals essentially with

designs copied directly from Nature in a sense more or less purely

artistic and æsthetic, we shall turn our attention to a few types which

are more specialized.

[Illustration: Fig. 38. Emu tracks.]

From a study of his religious ideas, we have learned that the aboriginal

identifies himself with some mystic, natural creature or object, which

he adopts as his “totem.” It would only be reasonable to expect,

therefore, that some of the drawings represent these objects; and that

they are recognized by the natives as having particular personal or

family significance. Looked at from a modern standpoint, these designs

are really the equivalent of a family crest, and are claimed only by

those rightfully entitled to them. This explanation must be given

for many of the naturalistic designs appearing on rocks, trees, grave

posts, and personal belongings. These “totemic” crests or symbols being

hereditary, we have before us a primitive form of heraldry, a conception

we have already learned to be covered by the word “_Kobong_,” originally

introduced by Sir George Grey from the north-west of Australia.

[Illustration: Fig. 39. Pictographic representation of nesting emu.]

[Illustration: Fig. 40. A lizard track.]

We have also ascertained that some of the central as well as

north-western tribes of Australia believe that the earliest tribal

ancestors originally were more animal than human in appearance, and

adopted the shape of a man only at a later period; that they can,

however, return to the animal form whenever they desire; and that others

remain semi-human. It is not surprising, therefore, to find amongst

their drawings and carvings representations which are partly human and

partly animal in outline; these are honest attempts at perpetuating the

traditional appearance of the ancestral beings of the tribe. In the

photograph attached hereto (Plate LI, 1), taken at Forrest River, two

pictures of such creatures are to be found which are drawn in ochre.

There were many others, from three to five feet in length, reptilian in

shape, some with human hands and feet, others with hair shown upon the

head, and in most of them the sex unduly prominent. These remarkable

designs are, therefore, not naturalistic, but have been evolved on purely

fictional or mythological lines, based upon the tradition of the tribe

and upon the imagination of the artist.

[Illustration: Fig. 41. A snake or snake-track.]

From the consideration of these artistic effigies of their Demigods, it

is not a big step forwards which brings us face to face with the sacred

tribal drawings. During initiation ceremonies, especially of the now

practically extinct south-eastern tribes of Australia, gigantic figures

resembling a human being were moulded into the surface of the ground

and subsequently tinted with ochre, which were supposed to conceal the

Great Spirit or Deity, which, like the “_Altjerra Knaninja_” of central

Australia, watched over the proceedings as the young men passed from a

condition of adolescence to that of permanent manhood; numerous carvings

and ochre drawings were also made upon the trunks of any trees nearby.

Not only during the initiation ceremonies are these practices resorted

to, but when a sacred observance is contemplated, especially those having

to do with the “totem,” elaborate designs are painted in ochre upon the

surrounding surfaces of rocks and trees which depict an act connected

with the traditional origin of the sacred object.

A classical illustration is to be found in the MacDonnell Ranges, at

Emily Gap. According to Arunndta belief, it was at this spot that the

early semi-human ancestors of the witchedy grub or “_Utnguringita_”

alighted from Altjerringa. They brought with them large numbers of

the grub, which they cooked and ate. The territory dominated by these

ancient beings extended from Heavitree Gap to Emily Gap, and across to

Jessie Gap. On the western wall of the first-named gap, known by the

natives as “_Ndariba_,” an inclined slab of rock, not high above the

level of the sandy bed of the Todd River, contains a series of peculiar

concentric iron stains which are regarded as the impressions of the stern

of an Utnguringita Altjerra who sat there, and, as he collected grubs,

moved forwards. The Utnguringita came into frequent conflict with the

Dingo or “Knullia” people whose country lay immediately west of Heavitree

Gap, but, nevertheless, they blessed the land with many eggs, which

developed into larvæ and supplied the tribe with food.

[Illustration: Fig. 42. Human foot-prints and trail.]

Eventually the Utnguringita ancestors returned to Altjerringa, but they

left a number of stone tjuringas in Emily Gap, which are supposed to

be occupied by the spirits whenever a sacred ceremony is performed on

the spot. On the eastern stony wall of this gap some rather imposing

designs are to be seen, which originally must have occupied most of the

area available. The drawings are very old; their origin dating back long

before the recollections of the present generation. It is wonderful

how well the work has withstood the denuding action of the weather for

so long. The natives tell you that the old Altjerringa men applied the

pigment to the rock and that they mixed it with the “_knudda_” (fat) of

the grubs. It is more likely that the ochres were mixed with emu fat;

in places the pigment seems as though it were chemically combined with

the rock, and it could only be removed by chipping the surface. The

designs in their present condition (Plate LI, 2) consist of a series of

parallel, vertical lines, alternately coloured red and white, and capped

by horizontal bands of the same colours, the white of which containing

three or four red dots. What the original designs may have been like,

it is now difficult to say, but the natives maintain that they included

the images of some women they call “_Aluggurra_,” who were waiting at

the foot of the cliff while the men were concealing their tjuringas in

the rocks and nooks above. To the present day, the old men of the local

Arunndta group store their ceremonial objects in the same sanctuary,

thinking that the sacred figures on the wall will protect them from the

hands of inquisitive intruders.

There remains yet another class of ochre drawing which deserves mention.

I allude to the famous discovery of Sir George Grey in 1837. There is

perhaps no other Australian drawing, old or modern, which has been so

freely discussed and criticized. During an expedition in the northern

Kimberleys of Western Australia, it was my good fortune to re-discover

several drawings of this type in practically the same locality as that

recorded by Sir George Grey, near the Glenelg River. One figure was

perfect, others were partly obliterated or incomplete. The best design

was in a cave near the top of a prominent bluff the local Worora people

call Berrial; it was drawn in ochre upon a steep face of rock immediately

under an overhanging ledge of quartzite. The figure was unquestionably

that of a human being, although it measured fully nine feet in length.

It lay fully extended, upon its left side, with its arms placed straight

against its sides. It reminded one forcibly of a Buddha in a Ceylonese

temple. What made the figure seem un-Australian was that it was clothed

in a long, striped garment, resembling a priestly gown, from which only

the head, hands, and feet were excluded. A loosely-fitting belt is also

shown. As seems common to all these drawings, the facial features are

only indicated by the eyes and nose, the mouth being omitted. Another

characteristic, which is shared by all other drawings, is that the head

is surrounded by a number of peculiar, concentric bands, through which,

and from which, many lines radiate, giving the structure the effect of a

halo surrounding the head of a saint. The picture bore an unmistakable

likeness to the type illustrated by Sir George Grey, and was drawn in

red, brown, black, and white. Vide Fig. 29 and Plate L, 2.

[Illustration: Fig. 43. “A man is tracking a rabbit.” Simple example of

pictography.]

There is no doubt about these curious drawings, now more or less adopted

by the local tribe, having originated under some exotic influence. It

is historically known that for centuries past excursions have been

made to the north of Australia by Macassans and other eastern people,

who may have been responsible for the first drawing of a figure of so

sacerdotal an appearance, which the aborigines have since learned to

copy so perfectly. It has also been speculated that shipwrecked sailors

might be responsible for the representation of the clothed human form; in

fact, an American scientist, John Campbell, claims to have deciphered an

ancient Japanese inscription upon one of Grey’s figures referring to the

“hopeless number,” presumably of the castaways.

[Illustration: Fig. 44. Pictographic representation of emu-hunt.]

In regard to the quaint head-gear which distinguishes these designs,

one need not go far from Australia to find something quite analogous,

for the Papuans wear an article which is quite similar to what might be

suggested by the drawings.

[Illustration: Fig. 45. Flying fox pattern.]

We now turn to a more psychological aspect of primitive Australian

art, which includes such factors as convention and imagination. These

processes lie behind the symbolization of thought which has evolved a

means of pictographically conveying messages from one individual to

another, or, collectively, from one tribe to another. Through long

usage, the artist has learned to reduce the complexity of a familiar,

naturalistic design in such a way that, while still retaining its

intrinsic interpretation, he is able to demonstrate by a few lines

what ordinarily would require an intricate drawing. The ultimate aim

of such a system is, of course, to reduce the execution of a design

to a minimum of energy and time, without imperilling the correctness

of its interpretation. But whilst the artist is designing to simplify

the complexity of his thought symbol, the reciprocative factor of

assimilation on the part of his fellows is being stimulated. And by

means of this joint education, a design, with a simple motive from

Nature behind it, might gradually become so conventionalized that the

uninitiated fails entirely to grasp its significance.

[Illustration: _PLATE XLIV_

1. Hand marks in cave, Port George IV, Worora tribe.

2. Foot marks in cave, Port George IV, Worora tribe.]

During this evolution, or, should one say, metamorphosis, in the

perception of art, the tendency must necessarily be to smooth out the

irregular and unsymmetrical contours of Nature and bring the design down

to as nearly geometrical as possible. For the same reason, a single

design is often repeated indefinitely, so that a single form derived

from a simple motive may expand into a continuous chain or ornate

pattern covering a considerable area. A large series of devices has been

established, the majority of which are known all over the Australian

continent; but, as the same time, there are many signs which are entirely

of a “totemic” nature and can only be understood by a person belonging to

that particular “totem.”

[Illustration: Fig. 46. Conventional representation of hopping kangaroo.]

Let us take a few simple cases illustrating the different points

enumerated above.

A simple drawing of a lizard would include a substantial body, with

rounded head and tapering tail; the legs are usually extended, and at

times have the claws marked. Vide Fig. 30.

The conventionalized form consists of a long straight line crossed

at right angles by two shorter bars, at points about one-quarter and

three-quarters distance respectively from one end.

A turtle design consists of an oval, representing the shield, from which

extend the head, tail, and paddles. In its modified form this becomes a

circle with six short lines radiating from the circumference at equal

distances apart (Fig. 31).

The picture of a frog in its simplified form becomes, like that of a

turtle, a circle, but has only four radiating lines (Fig. 32). When

designs like these are expanded symmetrically into patterns, the result

is after the style of that shown in the accompanying sketches. These

patterns are extensively used in totemic devices upon tjuringas and

implements.

The drawing of an echidna, or native hedgehog, ordinarily is like

the sketch shown above (Fig. 33), but as a result of its conventional

transformation it becomes a simple hexagon, from the corners of which the

limbs may or may not be shown as simply projecting lines. The pattern

obtained by linking up a number of hexagons is not uncommonly found

engraved upon weapons and implements.

[Illustration: Fig. 47. Crossed boomerangs, the symbolic representation

of a fight.]

Many of the conventional patterns are not so apparent as the few just

mentioned. Let us take, for instance, the “_Ladjia_” or Yam Tjuringa

pattern of the Arunndta. Only the initiated would be able to recognize

in a number of groups of small, concentric circles, regularly placed

at the corners of rectangular figures, as the stems of the yam plant,

and a system of parallel lines connecting the circles both straight and

diagonally as the roots. Vide Fig. 34.

Tracks of animal, bird, and man are conspicuous among the designs,

generally, whether they be true copies from Nature upon the walls of

a cave, more or less modified gravures upon weapons, or conventional

patterns incised upon a message stick. A dog track is represented by a

larger dot, suggesting the imprint of the ball of the paw, to which are

attached four smaller dots, which lie in a row in close proximity to the

former; the smaller dots stand for the impressions of the claws (Fig. 35).

A kangaroo track shows the two long parallel median impressions, with a

lateral at an acute angle to the former at either side. The same figure

is repeated a short distance away from the one described, and in a

straight line with it. The same design on a smaller scale denotes a

wallaby track. Occasionally the lateral lines are dispensed with (Fig.

36).

Small oblong dots drawn in pair at equal distances from each other

indicate the hopping of a rabbit (Fig. 37).

The characteristic broad arrow-like footprint of an emu has already

been referred to; the smaller variety of the same design implies that

a wild turkey is meant. When a number of birds are to be represented

collectively, the archetype is developed into a continuous pattern by

linking one track up with another into a chain (Fig. 38).

[Illustration: Fig. 48. Witchedy grub Tjuringa, Arunndta tribe (× 3/10).

Tracing.]

When attention is to be drawn to the fact that the birds are laying, or

sitting on eggs, a number of small circles are drawn about the track

(Fig. 39).

A lizard track is indicated by drawing a number of dots, equally spaced

along a straight line, and on alternate sides of it. The dots are the

claw impressions, the line the trail left by the tail (Fig. 40).

A single wavy line, or a number of parallel wavy lines, represents a

snake or a snake track (Fig. 41).

The human footprint is either correctly shown in detail, or is reduced to

a short, straight line at one end of which five (occasionally only three

or four) dots are drawn in a sloping line to indicate the toes. When

walking is to be implied, these footprints are either shown one behind

the other in a straight line, at equal distances apart, or they stand

alternately right and left by an imaginary central line. The common

way of showing the last-named system conventionally is to connect the

alternate footprints, whether they be actually shown or not, by a zig-zag

line (Fig. 42).

In all cases mentioned above, the track may stand equally well for the

object itself.

[Illustration: Fig. 49. Symbolic pictograph of kangaroo Tjuringa,

Arunndta tribe.]

It is a common thing to see two or more of the above systems combined,

after the style of the figures shown on page 344.

The interpretation of the first of these messages would be: “A man is

tracking a rabbit.”

The second (Fig. 44) would read: “A hunter is pursuing an emu and is

accompanied by his dog.”

In the same way as the natives of the Northern Territory have applied

their artistic talents to deciphering images of earthly objects

amongst the celestial bodies, and point with pride upon the great emu,

“_Dangorra_,” which nightly watches over them, so the Wongapitcha and

Aluridja of central Australia recognize in the constellation we know as

the Southern Cross the shape of an eagle-hawk’s claw, and call it in

consequence “_Warridajinna_”; the Milky Way they consider to be a creek

bed and assign to it the name “_Karru_”; the northern Kimberleys tribes

believe the Milky Way to be the track of a great carpet snake they refer

to as “_Womma_.”

In the representation of a fish, the scales often take the form of a

cross-hatched pattern; but there are many cases in which the form of the

fish is not shown at all, yet the cross-hatched pattern remains and is

nevertheless indicative of the fish.

[Illustration: Fig. 50. Symbolic pictograph of caterpillar, Tjuringa,

Arunndta tribe.]

A design, fairly common in the north of Western Australia, consists

of two wavy lines which are parallel, in the inverted or reflected

sense, and joined at one end. The true significance of this pattern

does not become evident until one hides from view all but three of the

“waves,” say that portion lying to the right of the dotted line in the

accompanying sketch. When this is done, the form of a “flying fox” is

immediately recognized (Fig. 45).

In central, northern, and eastern Australia, a pattern frequently met

with on boomerangs, fighting sticks, and message sticks, consists of

strings of lenticles longitudinally striped and generally associated

with kangaroo tracks. This device is analogous to the one standing for

the walking of a man, viz. the zig-zag, in so far as it stands for the

hopping of a kangaroo. Here and there one finds the pattern “finished

off” at one end with the head of a kangaroo (Fig. 46).

A duel or tribal fight of any description is graphically recorded by two

crossed boomerangs, but the conventional derivative of this design is

simply supplied by two crossed lines (Fig. 47).

Time is chronicled by two phases of the moon; a crescent standing for

new, and a circle for full moon.

[Illustration: Fig. 51. Symbolic drawing of “native-pear totem,” Arunndta

tribe.]

The substance, origin, home, or habitat of any creature figuring

in a drawing or gravure is particularized by the addition of a

circle-within-circle design. For instance, in the tjuringa of the

witchedy grub shown in Fig. 48, the parallel, straight lines, enclosed

within a “U,” at the left-hand side, represent the grub, the three

concentric circle groups in the centre are the gum trees in which it

lives, the “U within U” pattern at the right is an ancestor whose “totem”

was the witchedy grub, while the parallel lines at the extreme right of

the tjuringa are markings on the grub which have been adopted by the man

who owns the tjuringa, in the form of cicatrices, he cuts on his chest.

The “U within U” pattern is frequently met with engraved upon tjuringas,

and in most cases it conventionally conveys the idea of a “sitting”

person or animal. We have already noted something similar in the peculiar

concentric iron stains of Heavitree Gap (page 342), but in the following

three tjuringa drawings of the Arunndta additional illustrations are

given.

[Illustration: Fig. 52. Ochre drawing and tree-carving of man with

shield, Humbert River (× 1/10).]

In the first instance, an “_Arrera Knaninja_” or Kangaroo Tjuringa, the

meat and the fat of the animal are represented by the two series of

concentric circles in the centre, whereas its sinew is indicated by the

horizontal lines connecting the circles. The numerous U groups on both

sides of the central figures stand for a great number of kangaroo, each

of which is sitting or lying on the ground (Fig. 49).

[Illustration: _PLATE XLV_

1. Cave drawings, Forrest River, north-western Australia.

2. Decorating the body with pipe-clay, Humbert River, Northern

Territory.]

The second example is from the “_Yeapatja_” or Caterpillar Tjuringa.

The large “circle-within-circle” groups in the centre are generally

recognized to be the bushes upon which the caterpillars were born,

while the U groups with smaller concentric circles in their centres are

intended for caterpillars attached to smaller plants upon which they are

feeding (Fig. 50).

[Illustration: Fig. 53. Human chain-pattern.]

Lastly, a sacred drawing of the “_Alangua Knaninja_” or Native Pear

(_Marsdenia_) “totem,” which belongs to the Altjerringa women, is

composed of a central “circle-within-circle” group representing the

“totem,” whilst surrounding it a number of U groups are supposed to be

the mythic women seated on the ground (Fig. 51).

[Illustration: Fig. 54. Camps consisting of a man and his wife (left) and

of eight men.]

We shall now turn our attention to the consideration of the

representation of the human figure and its derivative forms. Several

more or less obvious designs have already been discussed. The first step

towards conventionalism is seen in the two figures from the Humbert

River district, the first an ochre cave drawing, the second a carving

on a boabab tree (Fig. 52). We notice in the ochre drawing, which was

one foot six inches high, a fairly shapely and solid figure of a man

holding a shield in his left hand; in the carving, which measured one

foot nine inches in height, the solid and shapely outline has been

reduced to a matter of just a few straight lines; that is, if we neglect

for the present the consideration of shield and boomerang which the

figure is holding. The result is, therefore, a design resembling a Latin

cross, at the lower end of which is attached an inverted V-shaped symbol

representing the legs; a small circle may or may not be added to the top

end to stand for the head.

[Illustration: Fig. 55. Anthropomorphous designs, carved on

spear-throwers. Tracing.]

This design is often repeated indefinitely in a lateral sense, so that

a rather ornate pattern results in which the individual figures “join

hands” and their “toes touch” below. A chained pattern, such as is shown

in the accompanying sketch (Fig. 53), may be noticed in Plate XLV, 1,

near the centre of the picture, below the ledge on which the bold drawing

of a snake appears, and on the same level as the semi-human design on the

extreme left.

The ultimate stage of this conventionalism so far as the human figure is

concerned is a simple, straight line, the upright arm of the cross; this

is extensively employed in carved representations of people on message

sticks. We might now hark back to the question at the beginning of our

disquisition on aboriginal art “what lies in a mere line” and supply one

answer at any rate.

[Illustration: Fig. 56. Anthropomorphous design, carved on pearl-shell,

Sunday Island. Tracing (× 1/4).]

Any number of people might be represented by the same number of short,

straight, vertical lines. Followed by a zig-zag line, such people are

represented as being on the march. When a small dot stands on each

side of the straight line, or perhaps a number of dots in intermediate

positions between the lines, the design conveys the idea that the people

are camped, the dots standing for camp fires. Moreover, when a horizontal

line lies over the upright lines, the last-named indicates that a hut,

shelter, or breakwind was used during the encampment (Fig. 54).

When there is an obvious, and intended, difference in the lengths of the

upright lines, the longer represent men, the shorter women.

Reverting now to the cross, and looking more closely into its

development, expansion, and embodiment in anthropomorphous designs, we

meet with one or two points of considerable interest.

We have had occasion to note that throughout central and northern

Australia, the tribes during the final acts of initiation ceremonies

make use of a sacred cross, called “_Wanningi_” or “_Wanninga_” in the

former region and “_Parli_” in the western portions of the latter. These

wanningi are constructed only immediately before they are required and

are destroyed again the moment the ceremony is over. Women are not

allowed to see them under any consideration. A wanningi is made by fixing

two pieces of wood together in the shape of a cross, then, by starting

at the intersection of the arms, a long string, made of human hair, is

wound spirally round and round, from arm to arm, until the whole space

between the arms is filled in. The size of these crosses varies from

three or four inches up to two feet or more. This object is produced

by the Aluridja just before the mutilation of the neophyte is to take

place. At this critical moment of the youth’s life, when he is stepping

from adolescence across the great gap which will lead him to manhood,

the spirit of the Great Tukura presides invisibly concealed within the

wanningi, but returns to his high abode again when the function is over.

Vide Plate XLIII, 2.

[Illustration: _PLATE XLVI_

Wordaman native with his body and head decorated in imitation of skeleton

and skull, Victoria River, Northern Territory.]

The spiral winding of hair-string around the arms of the wanningi

associates the idea of the rhombic outline of the string with the arms

of the cross. In the representation of the human form, one often finds

the two patterns combined, or, it may be, the rhomb replaces the cross.

In the example before us (Fig. 55, a), we have an engraved pattern

appearing on a spear-thrower, the motive of which, were it not that the

artist had added a human face, would have been very difficult for the

untrained eye to recognize. As it is, we have the unmistakable evidence

of an anthropomorphous design. Not only does a modified rhomb represent

the body of a man, but the figure itself is flourishing the crossed arms

of a “_Wanningi_” in its right hand. The principal design thus identified

passes, at the bottom, into a pattern composed of several polygonal

figures which may, no doubt, be looked upon as derivatives of an original

rhomb.

In the other illustration (Fig. 55, b), which is also a carving upon a

spear-thrower, the intricate association of the rhomb with the human

form is again apparent. The figure of a man, with face in profile,

is represented in a plain and more or less conventional way; the

straight trunk with the two arms resting upon the hips, symmetrically

on each side, in itself suggests the rhomb, but, in addition, most of

the intervening spaces have been filled in with parallel lines and a

cross-hatching pattern which embodies the rhomb.

Conventionalism in the representation of the human figure has thus gone

further than the mere inclusion of the cross or the rhomb motive, by

working in with the original design a derivative or new pattern which

fills up all the surrounding spaces.

By means of this system, a new element is introduced in the shape of

symmetry. If a vertical line, drawn through the centre of the trunk,

be taken as a median line in a simple design of the human figure, all

subsequent patterns which are drawn will be grouped symmetrically about

it. The most popular pattern used to fill up the available spaces

with, is one of a “concentric” type. By this method a distinctive,

bi-laterally symmetrical pattern is evolved, which after prolonged

usage may actually take the place of the original, and have a true

anthropomorphous significance.

Take the illustration of conventionalism of this kind shown on the carved

pearl shell covering from King Sound reproduced in Fig. 56. The original

motive was a simple line drawing of a human being after the style of the

one on the left-hand side. The next stage in its evolution was brought

about by blocking the areas between the limbs, and between the head and

arm, on either side, respectively, in a manner which made the resulting

pattern appear equally balanced in respect of a median longitudinal line

running through the back and head of the original figure.

Very numerous designs of this nature are constantly met with in all

tribal areas of Australia, but in most cases the stranger who is not

aware of the intermediate or transitional stages may fail entirely to

grasp their meaning or origin.