The meaning of Native American rock art is poorly understood. The ethnographic record, combined with thoughtful research, have suggested meanings to us – some still considered current, others fallen out of favor: boundary markers, hunting magic, shamanistic recordings of vision quests, markings for shaman’s caches … there is a long list of possible interpretations.
Part of the debate is whether pictograph and petroglyph sites were held sacred, created in hidden corners of the world, or whether they shared living space with the people who created them.
This remains a matter of debate but we know this much: while some tribes painted pictographs in their communal spaces many tribes considered pictographs sacred, even dangerous.
For these tribes pictographs may have marked a powerful spot, such as a cave, believed to be a portal to the spirit world.
They may also have warned that you were close to a shaman’s hiding spot for his bundle of tools.
Either way, they warned that you had to step carefully.
Something else we know about pictographs from the ethnographic records is that they may have been drawn by the “water baby”, a powerful spirit who changes them to this day — and if the water baby drew them, touching them will blind or kill you!
How do I feel about these dire warnings? If anything, I have always felt a positive vibe from the sites I’ve visited. During my research into some sites I have come across the odd statement of trepidation from prior visitors who had some form of heebie-jeebies while visiting these areas, but I’ve never felt anything like that on my visits.
I have certainly been thrilled when thinking of the people who painted these rock faces, wondering what they thought and felt, and did with their days, and how long ago it has been since they laid pigment on rock … but I’ve never felt uneasy at any site.
Until I visited this little spot early one morning, that is!
This site sits on the border between Tübatulabal and Kawaiisu territory, and I had high hopes of finding it and then moving on to hunt down some other quarries that have long evaded me.
Often, I find a site only after extensive research and multiple forays into an area, or after hours of scrambling through boulder fields, ducking under all the overhangs to check them for pictographs and bumping my head on several of the overhangs, or after bumping my head on sneaky tree branches or backing into cactuses, or maybe getting punctured by a yucca or caught by some other spiky desert fauna and giving up some blood for my right of passage.
On one memorable occasion I was stepping over a log and hit my head on a branch with such force that it took me a bleary half minute before I realized that the blow also knocked one of my sunglasses’ lenses clean out!
All this to say: I’m used to discoveries not being easy.
Finding this little site, however, gave me no such trouble.
I had previously identified a shallow valley I wanted to walk up, figuring that there might be something to see in that area.
I parked as close as I could and walked across a flat area to the valley mouth, then climbed a little slope to the first of many likely-looking boulder groupings, and – hello! I dropped my pack in the early morning light, a little stunned at my good fortune.
Never before was it the first overhang I examined that held my prize!
The site is not very large, situated close to the ground in a smallish shelter with a slightly sloping wall which makes it seem as if the figures were crawling up the rock face after emerging from the ground.
This early in the morning the site was difficult to photograph, being half in sunlight and half in the shade. I took my cameras out and started to take my photographs.
As I did so, I became aware of a vague feeling of unease.
For the first few minutes I was busy framing shots and fretting over the uneven exposures, but as soon as I finished up and sat down in front of the panel to really take it in I realized that something about it was unsettling.
I peered at the designs, trying to pinpoint the source of my unease. The figures were strange and anthropomorphic but this was not the first panel of its kind that I’ve visited – I’ve also been to Ayers Rock that has similar pelt-like figures but is thought to be a fairly modern site.
For this site though, I had no idea as far as its age was concerned but it likely was older than Ayers Rock.
In fact, I was even a bit surprised by its subject matter.
Since it was so close to and even in Tübatulabal territory I was expecting more of the predominantly red, abstract designs that can be found in Tübatulabal proper territory – indeed, that can be found just across the valley from this site!
Unlike the Tübatulabal style this panel was in more of a Kawaiisu pelt-figure style, and something about the shape of the pelt figures felt … wrong.
From my research I know that these figures are thought to either represent spirit animals, such as Bear, or perhaps to represent shamans themselves, wearing their ceremonial robes.
In the case of the Kawaiisu, these figures often were painted in spots where the spirit world was near as a warning to passersby, or as an aid for the shaman to enter the spirit world while in a hallucinogenic trance.
I stared harder at the panel, trying to decide why it felt unsettling. Was it the tiny black figure lurking on the edge of it? The white lines on the small pelt figure making it appear ghost-like? The large red figure looming sightlessly over the others? All of it?
I got up, stepped out into the sunlight and gathered my cameras.
Whatever power was felt in this place by the creator of the panel was seemingly still strong enough to reach across the years and ripple my reality too. Now that I had my photographs I thought it best to not overstay my welcome.
Walking around to the other side of the shelter I found a flat boulder with grinding slicks on the top. I took a photo and decided I really didn’t want to linger more so I set off into the canyon to see what else I might find.
Looking back at these photos now, I find the unease I felt hard to explain. Most likely it was just surprise at the pictographs. I had expected them to be Tübatulabal-style pictographs, and the pelt figures do hit some sort of uncanny valley. It was also early in the morning and I didn’t expect to just walk up to the site immediately. Usually, I have plenty of time to turn things over in my mind before I find anything – if I find anything!
I will probably visit again some day and see if this site still unsettles me in the same way. For now, I respect the visit I’ve had and am on the hunt for sites I haven’t been to yet.
This site is well-protected from sunlight and rain, and the pictograph elements are still crisp. If you visit, make sure not to touch them – both so they can be preserved for others to see and to make sure that the water baby doesn’t get you!