Meanings, models and minds: a reply to Lewis-Williams

South African Archaeological Society

Meanings, Models and Minds: A Reply to Lewis-WilliamsAuthor(s): Anne SolomonSource: The South African Archaeological Bulletin, Vol. 54, No. 169 (Jun., 1999), pp. 51-60Published by: South African Archaeological SocietyStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/3889139 .

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South African Archaeological Bulletin 54: 51-60, 1999 51

MEANINGS, MODELS AND MINDS: A REPLY TO LEWIS-WILLIAMS*

ANNE SOLOMON Department of Archaeology University of Cape Town Private Bag Rondebosch 7700 Cape Town

email: acsolo@mweb. coza

Abstract

'Meaning' in San rock art is contested terrain, with different researchers adopting different models of meaning and mind Models of meaning, and the assumptions they incorporate about rock art as an avenue to understanding prehistoric 'mind', are discussed What is held to be 'meaning' is a product ofparticular theoretical premises, methods and epistemological foundations; but this does not imply that the 'meaning of the art' is merely a question ofperspective, with free play accorded to the researcher's imagination. This distinction is illustrated via discussion of Qing's commentary to Orpen and interpretations thereof.

*Received January 1999, revised April 1999

Introduction

Researchers agree that the (archaeological) meaning of San rock art is the meaning it had for people in the past, but there is less agreement on what meaning 'is', how it is constituted and the methods used to 'access' that meaning. In- deed, the complex problem of meaning and its operations (semiosis) has preoccupied scores of eminent scholars this century. Lewis-Williams (e.g., 1981, 1998) has offered a detailed exposition of his theoretical premises and chosen model of meaning. Other researchers, including myself (e.g., Solomon 1989, 1992, 1995, 1997a), have proceeded from premises other than those of the structuralist-semiotic model. Different interpretations and accounts of meaning in San rock art have recently been addressed by Lewis- Williams (1998), crystallising some of the problems and contested positions that characterise contemporary research. However, 'meaning', in Lewis-Williams' account, is vari- ously conflated with 'interpretation', 'context', 'intention' and 'truth' and depends on a particular model of 'mind'. From a different standpoint, this account of meaning is deeply problematic. Theoretical, methodological, interpretive and epistemological issues surrounding the issue of meaning in San art are discussed and illustrated via consideration of interpretations of indigenous testimonies on rock paintings.

What is Meaning?

Meaning as Context Does context determine meaning and, if so, how?

Lewis-Williams (1998) has evaluated the work of researchers who have considered gender as an aspect of meaning

and identity (e.g., Solomon 1989, 1992, 1994, 1995; Parkington 1989, 1996, Parkington & Manhire 1997) and visual/formal considerations (Skotnes 1990, 1994), concluding that these are merely secondary meanings, "pen- umbral, yet vibrant" (Lewis-Williams 1998:96), while shamanism is the art's primary and central meaning. But are shamanism, gender or form 'meanings' that can be ranked in order of importance? This notion depends on a conflation of 'meaning' with 'context' and a particular view of what 'context' comprises. For Lewis-Williams, the context of production is cosmological: "all images are shamanistic in that they are part of a shamanistic cosmology and are situated on a surface that had meaning within that cosmology" (Lewis-Williams 1998:89). In other words, context (shamanism) is equivalent to meaning (shamanistic); meaning and context are interchangeable. However, this strategy isolates one aspect of the 'original context of production', namely 'belief context', which is spuriously split off from other realities. The prioritisation of belief over social relations, economy and other material aspects of life cannot easily be sustained. The gendering of phenomena (rain, for example) may be understood also in terms of social relations, not cosmology alone; social and 'belief contexts cannot be divorced as Lewis-Williams does. Both are aspects of the original context of production; the privileging of one over another is an analytical choice, rather than an imperative and furthermore, a choice that is unmotivated in shamanistic interpretations.

This separation of contexts allows Lewis-Williams to 'assess' the relative importance of each for understanding the art and to proclaim shamanism as primary. This is in- evitable, since in his model of ranked meanings 'belief is set up a priori as primary, more determining and more 'meaningful'. (That neither Parkington, Skotnes nor I have proclaimed our different analytical foci as 'the meaning of the art' is ignored.) Neither belief, gender, form nor artistic praxis constitute 'contexts' in themselves. Rather, these qualitatively different dimensions are each relations of meaning, intertwined and simultaneously present in the original production context. It is rather their inter-relation that is of analytical interest. The privileging of belief context derives from the idealism of Lewis-Williams' analysis (see below).

To say that meaning is always contextual is a different proposition from saying that context equals meaning and notions of 'contextual meaning'-irrespective of the context chosen-are problematic. Hodder's "archaeology of contextual meanings" (1987) has been discussed by Davis (1996), who notes the ultimate redundancy of the notion: 'Contextual meaning' "is not a special variety of meaning ... by definition, the meanings of a term exist in a social and historical context, namely the context of just those people who assign sense (Sinn) to a reference (Bedeutung) ... In the same way as 'contextual adaptation' would just be adaptation as such contextual meaning is just meaning as such". The limitations run deeper: "to recognise 'context' is not in itself to recognise the variability and open-endedness of meaning . . It remains to be shown for any given case that the context of meanin-of people assigning sense to a reference-is characterised by variability rather than invariance, or openness rather than closure" (Davis 1996:1 18-9).



52 South African Archaeological Bulletin

The shamanists' argument for the relative invariance of meaning relies on prioritisation of belief-context-as-meaning and an appeal to the conservatism of San religious belief. It is indeed appropriate to see the remarkable simi- larities in the forms of San beliefs in different times and places thus, and Lewis-Williams' emphasis on ideological continuities (1984b) and a quasi-'pan-San cosmology' has been -valuable. Nevertheless, problems arise. Forms may remain relatively constant, while 'meaning' ('content') changes. Similarly, the same form may connote differently to different people at one time and different forms may represent the same thing (see below). Prioritising 'belief context' depends on an abstraction, with 'ideas' separated from the activities of people in any specific 'social and historical context'. This reified 'belief context', which, since it is already divorced from socio-economic processes, is timeless and homogeneous, becomes the rationale for a view of meaning as principally static and largely closed, and hence for shamanism as the 'essential' meaning of the art in all times and places.

Within this essential meaning, Lewis-Williams (1998: 88-9) acknowledges limited polysemy, which he discusses in relation to the eland 'symbol'. However, since 'the meaning of the art' has already been defined as 'shamanistic' his analysis is really concerned with shades of (shamanistic) meaning, rather than multiple meanings. This view of the consensual nature of symbolic meanings is part of the standard semiotic account of the conventional meaning of the symbol. By extension, it depends on the notion of a homogeneous, consensual and conflict-free social community in which meanings are unproblematically agreed upon. 'Contextual meaning' is again invoked. Lewis-Williams (1998:88) argues that "Key symbols are central in that they lie at the heart of a belief system and as such have a semantic spectrum rather than a meaning". Here Lewis-Williams departs from his earlier analysis (1981), which he now sees as flawed. It is no longer the iconographical associations of a figure (e.g., an eland) that he sees as significant. Instead he distinguishes between "the eland antelope" (the 'real thing'), "a rock painting of (what appears to be) an eland antelope" as "a concrete item of material culture" and "the eland symbol". The last-men- tioned is described as "an abstract concept that (if they think about it at all) exists in people's minds" (1998:89). A painted eland is said to be "one contextualised manifestation of the eland symbol, and as such will have a restricted rather than a diffuse semantic focus" (1998:89). The symbol is thus the sum of its potential 'contextual meanings'. This model of meaning is strongly contested, principally on the basis of its structuralist assumptions.

Idealism and the Structuralist Account of Meaning

The success of structuralist analyses of rock art in the 1960s was profitably carried over into studies of San art by Vinnicombe (e.g., 1976) and Lewis-Williams (e.g., 1972, 1974). Lewis-Williams moved from an initial focus (1972, 1974) on classical structural analysis (based on structural linguistics, where signs are studied as if structured like a language) to semiotic analysis (1981) (a development of structural analysis that includes non-verbal signs). Struc- tural-Marxist analysis was invoked (1982) in an attempt to incorporate the social dimensions of art-making. Despite these shifts and claims of eschewal, Lewis-Williams'

analysis remains irrevocably structuralist, with its attendant problems. The boundaries of semiotic studies, which have been enormously productive, are, according to Hawkes (1977:124), "coterminous with structuralism" and part of a larger field that might be called 'communication'. Lewis- Williams uses a simplified version of Pierce-Morris semiotics, focussing on the broad sign categories icon, index and symbol. Since Pierce's work on 'the science of signs' early this century, many writers, including, for example, Eco (1976), have addressed the manifold problems that have subsequently emerged. Much recent writing on semiotic issues has specifically addressed problems of structuralist tenets in semiotic analyses.

Lewis-Williams (1998:91) describes structuralism as "the proposition that human thought proceeds in terms of binary oppositions". This minimal definition inevitably oversimplifies matters. Whilst Levi-Strauss did maintain that humans characteristically order and classify experience using binary oppositions, this does not mean that every time one encounters contrasting dualistic terms that one is dealing with a structuralist analysis! The founding metaphor of structuralism is rather the depth: surface dualism, where depth refers to 'mental structures' or a 'cognitive template' (cf. Ingold 1993, Thomas 1996) and 'surface' to cultural 'expressions' as the realisation of those 'deep structures'.

This appears unmistakably in the shamanistic model and explicitly in Lewis-Williams' analysis of the eland symbol. It is said to exist 'in people's minds' (depth) before being expressed as a 'contextualised manifestation' in the concrete, material form of the painted image (surface). A similar notion of depth and surface appears in the idea that the neurophysiological system of all anatomically modem humans (depth) generated forms that were construed and expressed (surface) by San artists in visual form (e.g., Lewis-Williams & Dowson 1988) (Note 1). The 'eland concept' is, in effect, a structure of, and in, the mind. This begs the question of where and how? Lewis-Williams (1998:89) suggests that it was not necessary for people to have "thought about it at all". How then does the eland concept exist in the mind unless it is thought about? How can a concept exist independently of thought? How did it come into being in the first place? How does it change? Structuralist analyses are notoriously inadequate in this regard, being synchronic and unable to accommodate history and change. This may be understood in relation to the idealism of the structuralist project more generally.

In the shamanistic model, with its structuralist foundations, ideas-belief, cognition and 'neuropsychology' -are accorded considerable importance, even determining force. Material factors have been considered only as a secondary relation of meaning (for example in the idea that shamanism had material consequences). The decision that (a shamanistic) 'belief context' is more fundamental and determining than social context exemplifies this prioritisation of ideas. Lewis-Williams (1998:90) sees socio-economic contexts as something to be 'factored in' post hoc to the shamanistic model. The model's idealism is not ameliorated by such 'add-gender-and-stir' strategies. However, the problem is not resolved simply by replacing an idealist model with a materialist one, although this is technically possible: for example (to replicate, but invert, Lewis- Williams' logic), it is as legitimate to propose that shamanistic beliefs were formed within an already gendered hunter-gatherer economy, with the socio-economic context more determnining; in which case, gendered social relations can be seen as the context and 'meaning' of the art. This



South African Archaeological Bulletin 53

seems to be the way Lewis-Williams has understood my arguments. But gender is no more 'the meaning of the art' than shamanism is and the inverted scenario is equally problematic. Rather, in contemporary research in many disciplines, efforts are made to transcend such separations of the material and ideal domains.

After Structuralism and Semiotics Theoretical perspectives and analytical strategies of (at

least) the last two decades have been formulated as critiques of and responses to both structuralism and 'vulgar Marxism'. These various responses are commonly lumped together as 'post-modem' by those unfamiliar with the terrain and the range of positions such critiques espouse. The following discussion elucidates some of these developments and the problems they have sought to address, with reference to the ways in which they have both permeated my research and contributed to my rejection of shamanistic explanations.

My initial consideration of the gender(ed) dimension of San art (Solomon 1989) depended on a different model of meaning. The focus on gender demanded that the material conditions of art-making receive more attention, so as to avoid simplistic polarisations of the ideal and material as well as the anti-historicity of the structuralist project. Prac- tice theory (Bourdieu 1977; Moore 1986), structuration theory (Giddens 1979) and feminist post-structuralist theory (e.g., the materialist and post-structuralist perspectives of Delphy (1984) and Cixous (1985) respectively) were amongst the theoretical appraoches explored as advances on the structuralist-semiotic model (e.g., Solomon 1989, 1992). (Ironically, Lewis-Williams has recently (1997) cited Bourdieu and Giddens' work, but as an antidote to 'vulgar materialism' rather than structuralism.) Lewis- Williams' claim that gender studies are irredeemably structuralist (because gender focusses on "the male:female opposition" (Lewis-Williams 1998:91-2)) misses the point, which was that gender is a mutable social construct, not a product of deep structures.

Following Delphy (1984), a distinction was drawn between male/female and masculine/feminine, with the former dualism referring to biological givens, but the latter as relatively autonomous social constructs, not derived from biology (if that were so, the 'content' of gender would be invariant in time and space). As such, my model rejected the idea that gendered binary oppositions are products of deep structure (cf. Cixous 1985). Instead, following Moore's influential study (1986), I considered gendered oppositions in San texts as gender stereotyping, where stereotypes operate as organising principles (not 'structures') in processes of meaning formation that occur only in social practice and commonly in the contestation of power. The emphasis on practice offered a way of analysing ideas and material conditions in conjunction, rather than seeing one as simply determined by the other. It also addressed structuralism's 'structure' and the idea that practices are enactments of underlying rules or structures. Rather, structure is only instantiated in practice (Giddens 1979) and is not otherwise 'in' the mind. The approach adopted also addressed the claim that gender relations are necessarily consensual, co-operative and complementary, as Lewis- Williams ( 1982) previously assumed.

In retrospect, these post-structuralist revisions analyse the issue of multiple meanings in a limited way, viz, the "slippage" (Davis 1996; 125n) between reference (what an

image denotes) and sense (its potential connotations), and I have subsequently explored other theoretical options (see below). Although now dated, the aforegoing still seems to improve on Lewis-Williams' structuralist model in various ways. In particular, by incorporating socioeconomic factors, and via the notion of contested meaning(s), the possi- bility of recognising the potential open-endedness of meaning, and hence historical change, was introduced. This model of meaning entails a different epistemological position, but this is not relativistic, although it stresses relationality and semantic contingency. This stress on semantic contingency contrasts with Lewis-Williams' position, in which one of the meanings of 'meaning' is 'truth'.

Meaning as Truth The argument that the context and hence the primary

meaning of San art is shamanistic functions as a claim to truth; shamanism is proclaimed as verifiably all- encompassing and primary. As such, the model is essen- tially monosemic, although Lewis-Williams allows for constrained polysemy of a lesser order at the level of the symbol. Lewis-Williams (1998:88-9) further distinguishes between polysemy and multivocality, with the latter idio- syncratically described as the potential use of different "categories of image" by different social groups. However, in an account of meaning that emphasises process rather than structure, polysemy may in fact be a product of multivocality and the negotiation of meaning(s). (This need not-and did not, in my research-concern different groups using different images.) The epistemological dimension of Lewis-Williams' model of meaning is illustrated further by reference to the eland symbol.

The question was posed above: How did Lewis- Williams' 'abstract eland symbol' come into being? According to my premises, the meanings of the eland arise in practice and practical negotiation-including the contestation-of meaning. Moore (1986) gives an example of the meaning of ash in Marakwet society, where the per- ceived meaning of ash depends on the practical context and the gender of the person 'enacting' that meaning. By smearing herself with ash outside the conventional context of its use, a woman challenged the conventional meaning of 'ash' (associated with male dominance) and created a new, and contrary, meaning. As such, the notion of a single meaning shared by all members of a group is problematic. Multivocality, in my analysis, referred to the same term (image or 'symbol') potentially having qualitatively different meanings for different social groups (particularly men and women). This derives from a view of meaning as fundamentally unstable, as continually being remade in practice, and therefore subject to change. This disrupts the stasis of the notion of meaning as structure, replacing it with a view of meaning as an ongoing process of negotiation of semantic possibilities. As such, it offers both an account of how meanings come into being, as well as how they might change, which shamanistic explanations do not and cannot. The shamanistic model's 'truth' depends on an assumption of unitary, fixed meaning. Lewis-Williams confuses my analysis of meaning as potentially unstable (and hence subject to change) with a relativistic epistemology. This is possible because his model conflates meaning with 'truth'.

In this regard, Lewis-Williams (1998:89) misconstrues my argument (Solomon 1989:161) that an interpretation is not necessarily objectively (original italicisation) better than another. One interpretation may eclipse another on other



South African Archaeological Bulletin

grounds, but, short of time travel, the correspondence of one or another to the 'truth' in the past cannot be objectively or empirically proven (though one interpretation may nevertheless be a closer approximation of the truth than another). Lewis-Williams' criterion (e.g., 1985) that an adequate hypothesis must be characterised by 'verifiability' is accordingly misplaced. Assessment must use other crite- ria. Since interpretations are shaped by theoretical tenets, it is necessary to debate the premises of conflicting interpretations, not only the interpretations themselves; results are always shaped by premises. Lewis-Williams' structuralist premises cannot be empirically established as 'truer' than my alternative premises; the aptness of premises can only be motivated and argued, not proven. In these terms, the quality of argumentation assumes crucial importance in adjudicating between interpretations.

For example, (cf. Lewis-Williams 1983, 1984a, 1985) the argument must be internally consistent (including 'consistent with its premises'). In this sense, if my argument is as internally consistent as Lewis-Williams', then both may be equally rigorous. Nevertheless, rigour does not equal 'truth', although it does allow discrimination amongst com- peting interpretations. Lewis-Williams' other oft-cited cri- teria include 'quantity of data explained' and 'heuristic potential'. However, the alleged explanatory power of the model does not validate the model or its premises retro- spectively; such claims depend on a logically unsound, teleological or consequentialist argument (Sparkes 1991).

To acknowledge the relationality of an interpretation to its premises and the impossibility of empirical verification of the approximation-to-truth of one or another model does not imply a relativistic epistemology, nor that all interpretations are equal, nor does it licence the free play of a researcher's imagination (nor, for that matter, does it equate with Stalinism or "a lack of respect for data" (Lewis- Williams 1998:90)). My epistemology and model of meaning do not coincide with Lewis-Williams'; I contend, however, not that they are equal, but that the structuralist- semiotic model and the particulars of the resulting interpretation are highly problematic. To illustrate this further, an iconographical and interpretive problem-the question of what therianthropic figures represent-is discussed in detail in the second part of this paper.

Meaning as Intention

For Lewis Carroll's Humpty-Dumpty, words mean what the speaker means them to mean. Lewis-Williams' view of meaning and intention is not dissimilar, insofar as it contains the idea that an 'expression' (such as a painted image) was a faithful copy of what was in the artist's mind and what s/he wished to convey. Davis (1996:95-127) has astutely discussed meaning and 'intentionality'. He relates theories of 'art as copying' to "an entrenched view of human consciousness and the way it is directed at the world ... According to the entrenched view, a metaphysics of consciousness propounded by many Western philoso- phies and harking back to Platonic themes, thoughts pre- cede their particular material representation, expression or embodiment. The natural embodiment is merely a stuff or medium of some kind supplementary and relaying thought itself' (Davis 1996:98). In other words, images are unmediated reflections of thought. Rock paintings, for Lewis- Williams, are precisely thoughts converted directly into 'concrete items of material culture', remaining as solid evidence of past intentions and thoughts.

However, this depends on an ahistorical notion of 'mind' and received assumptions about consciousness derived from the Enlightenment view of the rational subject, "characterised by self-possession, immediacy, control and self-awareness" (Davis 1996:101). Davis, who has favoured deconstruction and historical materialism, discusses the dichotomies arising from this view of mind, where the first term describes the pure, original, rational intention, and the second its 'realisation': "Idea/Expression, Intention/ Artifact, Form/Matter, Concept/Statement, Rule/ Practice . . ." (1996:103). To escape this structuralist depth/ surface dichotomy, Davis proposes an approach similar to (but more radical than) the model of meaning I previously employed, namely that it does not exist as a thing in the mind, but is instantiated in practice: "In the deconstructive revision of the entrenched account, value systems, strategies of life or ideology are 'written'. They are constituted only in the activity of thinking them out, or more accu- rately, thinking them down in some medium or other...[They] are not 'in' the heads of the makers, and then, like a Word made Flesh, somehow emptied into matter. Rather, they are made, written, by the makers neither before nor after, but only always in the ongoing, temporally and spatially ramified structure of making" (Davis 1996: 98-9: original italicisation). Skotnes' emphasis on artistic praxis and the "visual as a site of meaning" (1994) reiterates this.

The importance of Davis' analysis of consciousness and intentionality is that, whilst acknowledging that people 'intend' action, it does not assume that the product is an accurate reflection of that intention. There's many a slip 'twixt cup and lip, and intention, product and meaning are not identical. In this sense meaning concerns disjunction. For Davis, disjunction is not merely the slippage between sense and reference, but is, at least, also the gap between 'pure' intention and mediated product (Davis 1996:125, 78n). The contrast between this and Lewis-Williams' view of painted eland as a concrete manifestations of the abstract concept and of the rock art as an unmediated copy of per- ceptions, intentions or concepts (Davis 1996:127) is obvi- ous. In short, rock paintings are not fossilised ideas. Lewis- Williams' model of meaning assumes that the image or painting = thought, and that thought = meaning: that is, the meaning that the artist had 'in mind'. This position cannot be sustained and, from this perspective, models of meaning in San rock art research require further attention.

Theory, Method and 'Mythic Women'

The 'ethnographic method', as extended by Vinnicombe (e.g., 1976) and Lewis-Williams (e.g., 1981), has been enormously important in rock art research, but it is heavily logocentric. As Preziosi (1989:37) has observed, interpretation as "contextual reintegration" often amounts to mere "mechanical practices of text-matching". It focuses on an image's referent (rather than the image itself), translating visual into verbal, with the verbal then masquerading as 'meaning'. Partly in response to critiques of iconography- centred approaches (cf. Skotnes 1994), I considered the 'mythic women' figures, which are-unusually-depicted in frontal view, in order to incorporate questions about their form rather, than their referents per se (Solomon 1995, 1998). I considered a range of human figures portrayed in frontal view. Some were seated or squatting, others stand- ing, whereas some (characterised by a distended torso, splayed legs, bow or cresent-shaped object held aloft and




genital details) were interpreted as 'mythic women' figures, similar to those known from Zimbabwe. (Lewis-Williams (1998:91) criticises this categorisation, objecting that the posture is adopted "in a wide range of circumstance". How- ever, this was explicitly acknowledged (Solomon 1995) in the categorisation) I drew also on Ingold's (1993) work on temporality, as an advance on structuralism and post- structuralism. Ingold utilises phenomenological theory in order to move beyond the analysis of static form, via his argument that form is generated in movement, and that western thought has tended to prioritise form over process. The focus on temporality evokes Schapiro's view of visual arts as portraying "an order of time in an order of space" (1985:215). Phenomenological accounts of consciousness (which share aspects of the deconstructionist approach, but are elsewhere in tension) were used as a way of relating the art to ongoing 'lived experience', rather than mental structures, and to (gendered) San lifeways and material conditions, rather than a split-off universe of 'beliefs'.

Lewis-Williams' critique fails to engage with the key themes of my earlier and recent research, implying that such studies do not offer an account of how "the making of gender statements articulated with the rock art images" (Lewis-Williams 1998:9 1). That research was not, however, concerned with "the making of gender statements"; neither did I suggest that "San people painted in order to negotiate gender" (Lewis-Williams 1998:91). Rather, I attempted to analyse the themes and forms of San art in relation to the rhythms and processes of specifically hunter-gatherer societies, where gender is unquestionably a pre-eminent socio-cultural division. These rhythms and processes, I argued, are the realm within which 'shamanism' operated and developed its form(s) (Solomon 1995). Contra Lewis- Williams' claim, the entire dissertation was concerned with the ways in which gender and rock art were 'articulated'. Exploration of similar strategies for addressing Lewis- Williams' timeless shamanistic cosmology and persistent structuralism continue in my current research, with the important difference that I now believe that the art cannot correctly be described as 'shamanistic' (Solomon in prep).

The approach was designed to address several problems, not least of which was the notion that the forms of San art derive from hallucinatory experience. Lewis-Williams (1998:91) mistakes my linkage of a range offeminine (not female) figures to a wider complex of gendered beliefs as "intentional ambiguity" (Note 2). Ambiguous, certainly; but not 'intentional', since 'intentionality' was part of the problem under study (see above). The issue of frequencies is another component of the analysis that Lewis-Williams misconstrues, arguing that, because of the small percentage of 'mythic women', my study cannot constitute more than " a limited addition to our understanding"(Lewis-Williams 1998:91). This is ironic in terms of his dismissal (1998:95) of "naive percentages" and ignores the fact that I specifically discussed frequencies and whether a rare depiction is less 'meaningful' than a very widespread motif such as the eland. In short, Lewis-Williams' critique proceeds from a position that already denies my different premises and hence my different findings. The failure to understand and engage with those premises means that his criticisms remain insubstantial. The same applies to his critique of art historical approaches.

Art History and 'Westernisin' Art historical approaches are not necessarily antithetical

to those of archaeology or anthropology. Theorisation in art history-of agency/practice, consciousness, 'meaning' etc.

constitutes a parallel critique of structuralism's limitations. In the art/historical work of Skotnes, Davis and Preziosi (cited above), the model of meaning that grounds the shamanistic model is rejected, but these studies cannot simply be dismissed as inappropriate "Western formalist art history" (Lewis-Williams 1998:94). For one thing, to con- sider the form (rather than the referent) of an image, panel or site is not the same as conducting a 'formalist' analysis. For another, the way in which Lewis-Williams mobilises the notion of 'the West(ern)' is uneven at best.

With reference to Skotnes' work on form and artistic practice Lewis-Williams criticises 'western' art history's (allegedly) universalising tendency. Yet a far deeper universalism is at work in the claim that all anatomically modem humans 'see' the same hallucinatory forms in altered states of consciousness (ASCs). This is a biologistic statement about universal forms that permits the shamanists to extend their arguments to virtually all prehistoric arts (irrespective of time, place or identity). A similar universalism is evident in Eliade's (1964) notion of shamanism as 'primitive religion', although Eliade is more circumspect in what he includes in his definition of shamanism (Solomon in prep.).

Elsewhere, Lewis-Williams charges critics with using western, 'etic' perspectives, thus invoking the very difference of the San. This appears in his response to Skotnes' (1994) analysis of a western Cape site, in terms of the artist's engagement with space and ground, my discussion of lateral versus frontal view in paintings of human figures (1995, 1997b), and Parkington and Manhire's (1997) study of 'directedness'. It is claimed that the way that the San 'viewed' paintings was "almost certainly . .. very different from ours" (Lewis-Williams 1998:95). This is yet another conflation, this time of 'looking at' with 'meaning'. Of course San people would have 'looked at' the art with different eyes (because the art was an integral part of their cosmology and environment), in a way in which contemporary researchers-including Lewis-Williams-cannot. For Lewis-Williams 'viewing' is virtually synonymous with 'perceive its meaning'. Neither Skotnes or I were concerned with this; we are not so naive as to deny that the signifi- cance of the art for prehistoric communities was, inevitably, 'different'. But, in the physical sense of 'look at', there can be no difference between the San and the contemporary viewer-unless one is to resort to the highly problematic notion that San vision was fundamentally different to our own. Moreover, since Lewis-Williams admits that "we do not know how the San viewed paintings" (1998:95) and does not give even hypothetical examples of different ways of viewing, the claim that Skotnes', Parkington's and my research universalises viewing practices remains in- consequential.

In contrast, my suggestion that the frontal view in which the 'mythic women' were depicted forms a bridge between original and contemporary viewers was theoretically grounded. A way of linking past and present via the experience of form is offered by Ingold (1993). Although the argument needs to be read in its entirety for its complexity to be appreciated, Ingold's epistemology is based on the idea that "the native dweller and the archaeologist ..,. insofar as they both seek the past in the landscape. .. are en- gaged in projects of fundamentally the same kind", though their resulting narratives may diverge. Ingold's epistemology bridges past and present via the argument that "the




practice of archaeology is ... a form of dwelling"... and "the knowledge born of this practice is thus on a par with that which comes from the practical activity of the native dweller, and which the anthropologist, through participa- tion, seeks to learn and understand" (Ingold 1993:152). This acknowledges differences between 'original inhabi- tants' and researchers, while also specifying how contemporary researchers can nevertheless 'know' anything about past realities. Importantly, this is achieved without recourse to universals of biology or neurology and without the binary opposition of westem:'non-western'. The alterity or identi(cali)ty of the San and 'us' appears in Lewis- Williams' arguments not as a consistent view, but shifting in relation to the point under discussion. One may well ask: Cui bono?

'Art history' is constructed in a particular way in Lewis- Williams' argument, not only as a universalising western perspective. For example, he equates it with "an approach to the forms or 'compositions"' of San art (1998:94). But form and composition are not the same thing (although composition may be an element of 'form'). The critique contains another example of problems of meaning, sense and reference. Lewis-Williams charges that "influenced by Western art, researchers divide a painted rock shelter into 'panels'-areas of concentrated images that are separated from similar areas by blank spaces" (1998:94). What is the difference between a 'panel' and Lewis-Williams' 'area of concentrated images'? When Lewis-Williams prepares an illustration for publication, how does he define the boundaries of a set of paintings, except by the notion of 'panel', by any other name? However, labelled, the referent remains the same. That problems in defining the boundaries of 'panels' are abundant is well recognised; that the conventions of San art are not the same as Renaissance or modern art, likewise. And to which rock art researchers and studies does Lewis-Williams refer?

A contrary view is that the insights of art history, and of research dedicated to understanding the visual, are invalu- able, and warrant archaeological attention. Recently there has been a convergence of archaeological and art historical interests, and a productive interplay of disciplinary perspectives. Many art historians would reject the semiotic model, wherein words and images are seen as communica- tive 'signs', in favour of a more rigorous analysis of visual imagery and its particular operations (cf. Davis 1985, 1989, 1996). In South Africa, Skotnes is one artist who has valua- bly introduced such analysis, alongside active engagement with archaeology and anthropology. Interdisciplinary studies contribute to the vitality of rock art research, rather than merely challenging existing 'truths'. One need only con- sider changing views of 'the meaning of the art' this century to realise that the exposition of meaning is always processual, not to be conflated with 'truth'-although researchers seek those interpretations that most probably correspond to past realities. This does not mean that meaning is only perspectival, as the following discussion, of Orpen (1874) and readings of nineteenth century San commentaries, illustrates.

San Testimonies: Evaluating Readings

On the assumption that the truth of the original context of the art has been discovered (rather than modelled or hypothesised), Lewis-Williams (1998:86) believes that dissent centres on the 'naive' question: "how much of the art can be explained in terms of San shamanistic beliefs,

rituals and experiences?". My question, however, is: Can San rock art be called shamanistic at all? After all, Katz, author of the definitive work on !Kung curing, explicitly stated that they have "no shamanistic tradition" (Katz 1982: 231). A detailed argument against seeing the art as shamanistic (extending my previous (1 997a) study) is in prepa- ration and need not be addressed here, where the focus is on theory and epistemology. I concentrate here on evaluating Lewis-Williams' reading of San testimonies (Lewis- Williams 1980, 1998) relative to my own, with special reference to Orpen (1874).

Interpretation of Qing's testimony to Joseph Orpen, is a cornerstone of the shamanistic model. Lewis-Williams uses it, alongside /Xam and !Kung texts, to argue that San religion was shamanistic and that the art must be understood in terms of ritual, trance/hallucinatory experience and an over-arching 'shamanistic' cosmology. But most of the references that Lewis-Williams has cited as evidence for San shamanism refer to dead people and mythological/spirit beings, as does the testimony of both Qing and Dia!kwain on paintings of therianthropic figures (Solomon 1997a; and cf. Lee & Woodhouse (e.g., 1970); Pager (e.g., 1975,1984). Responding to my interpretation, Lewis-Williams has reit- erated his earlier position, viz. that Qing's comments were cobbled together subsequently by Orpen, who was unaware that Qing was speaking in trance metaphors. As evidence, Lewis-Williams cites Orpen's statement: "I shall string together Qing's fragmentary stories as nearly as I can as he told them to me. I noted them down from him then and since; I only make them consecutive. . . ". (Orpen 1874:3).

However, there can be no question of Orpen fabricating Qing's comments in this way. It is clear from Orpen's text that it was the series of stories narrated by Qing that Orpen made consecutive. The comments on the paintings were made first: "I asked . . . [Qing] what the pictures of men with rhebok's heads meant. He said "They were men who had died and now lived in rivers, and were spoilt at the same time as the elands, and by the dances of which you have seen paintings." I asked him when were the elands spoilt and how. He began to explain . . ." (Orpen 1874:2; original italicisation). Thereupon he related the stories that Orpen made "consecutive"; there is no indication that his initial comments on the therianthropes are anything less than a verbatim account (albeit translated). Orpen's use of direct quotation marks, and his statement that he had made notes during (and after) their conversations all suggest that Orpen faithfully recorded Qing's explanations.

The question remains: What did Orpen mean by 'consecutive'? The description of the conversation indicates that Qing first related the story of the 'spoiling' of the eland, in response to Orpen's specific question about this event and time. Cagn's name, and his role as creator of the world, only came up subsequently, in the course of narration of the eland creation story, which, logically, occurred after Cagn's initial creation of the world. Therefore, when Orpen said he had made the stories consecutive, he meant only that he had ordered them according to the trajectory of San mythology itself, starting with Cagn making the world and its contents, followed by stories that feature later in the San mythological time line. There is thus no question of Orpen having re- combined or misunderstood Qing's comments on the rhebok-headed men. Lewis-Williams (1998 :92) suggests that my disagreement on this point is "not crucial"; on the contrary, my reading obviates the necessity for interpreting Qing's comments as a confused string of statements recast by a bemused Orpen, and the basis for 'trance-lation' dis-




appears. Seen in relation to San mythology, it is not "'anfractuous" [circuitous, indirect] (Lewis-Williams (1980: 473), nor couched in trance metaphors (as 'death', 'underwater' and 'spoil' are claimed to be) but entirely straightforward.

Various San groups, including the /Xam and Kua, recount stories about a powerful being associated with death and underwater, who corresponds broadly to the 'lesser god', associated with death and disease. Qing himself related a regrettably brief story about an underwater being who caught people by the foot and held them there (Orpen 1874:9). It is unnecessary to assume that death imeans' trance, since a dangerous being associated with underwater is a feature of San mythology and belief more widely. There is therefore no need to suggest that Qing's first statements-about "men who had died and now lived in rivers"-refer to anything other than people believed to have actually died. To argue this, Lewis-Williams must make recourse to /Xam texts, where 'death' is also assumed to refer to trance, not mortality. However, the majority of the /Xam texts cited also refer to physically dead !gi:ten (Solomon 1997a). As Lewis-Williams himself has pointed out (1998:93), the term translates as "full of magical power". Lloyd and D.F. Bleek translated it as 'sorceror' [sic], whereas Lewis-Williams' has substituted 'shaman'. The /Xam term does not, however, warrant so specific a translation, and a more literal translation may usefully be reinstated, to cover both living and dead beings with magical abilities (Solomon 1997a; in prep.). Instead, the exis- tence of a dangerous, underwater being or beings (with magical powers) is ignored in favour of a trance explanation which depends on diverse analogies with !Kung and /Xam. In short, the reference to dead men in rivers is entirely in accordance with San cosmology and religious thought and does not require elaborate analogies to decode.

The third part of Qing's statement concerns the spoiling of the eland, progeny of Cagn's wife, its killing by Cagn's sons and its reincarnation, no longer as part-human, but as fully animal prey. The day the herds of eland were re- created from Cagn's eland's remains was "the day the elands were spoilt and became wild". This story-and its occurrence at a particular time-are easily understood in relation to the trajectory that characterises the mythology of almost all recorded San. In myth, the world was created by a superior being (southern San: Cagn, /Kaggen) and at first the earth was populated by beings part-human and part animal. Animals could speak, while the first San were human-like, but uncultured and lacking in manners and customs. Later, humans and animals were separated. The event marking the separation is different in plot and char- acterisation from group to group, but the effects are identical: humans become human and acquire proper behaviour (but lose immortality), whereas animals lose their capacity for speech, becoming mere animals and prey. The widely told story of the 'Origin of Death' (e.g., Bleek & Lloyd 1911), which describes the loss of immortality and the necessity of death, also relates to this transition to moder- nity.

The spoiling of the eland story describes this transition from primal time to the world of civilised, modern San. The part-human eland of the old order is replaced in the new by herds of 'real' eland. When Qing said that this was when they "were spoilt and became wild", he was referring to this transformation of the old order. 'Spoilt' here means 'transformed' (see further below). In these terms, the therianthropes were indeed dead people living in rivers,

transmuted at the same time as Cagn's eland, at the end of the old order. This was confirmed in Dia!kwain's inde- pendent testimony, viz. that painted therianthropes belonged to a prior 'ancient race' of Bushmen, who were believed to kill people. In the /Xam texts and elsewhere in Did!kwain's narrations to Bleek and Lloyd, the people who existed in primal time are referred to as "the people of the early race" (Bleek & Lloyd 1911); it was apparently to them that Dia!kwain referred when explaining the therian- thrope paintings. The testimony of both San men thus refers directly to mythology and mythical beings. This recognition permits seeing Qing's statement as entirely coherent: the therianthropes are beings who 'died' when the current order was being instituted, but live on as spirits.

Only Qing's fourth statement refers to the activities of the living. He said that the dead men were also "spoilt. . . by the dances of which you have seen paintings". Lewis- Williams (1980, 1998) insists that 'spoilt' here is a metaphor for 'enter trance' (by analogy with the spatially and temporally distant and linguistically divergent !Kung). But the word 'spoil' is used in several different ways within Qing's account, with general connotations of "negatively transformed" (Vinnicombe (1976:320,38n) suggested "harmed"). The 'spoiling' of the eland refers to their separation from humans and reincarnation as mere prey. Else- where (Orpen 1874:4), Cagn rebuked his sons for slaying his eland, saying "for you have spoilt the elands when I was making them fit for use"; this refers to the phase when creation was still in progress, and to the fact that Cagn had not finished making and rearing his creation when his sons killed it. 'Spoilt' here refers to the interruption of the process of creation, as outlined in mythology, and there can be no question of it being a coded reference to entering trance.

Nor can the reference to men 'spoilt' by the dances necessarily be interpreted in trance terms. Dii!kwain's testimony indicates that the therianthropic 'dead men' were believed to kill people even though they themselves had died, while Qing's comments show that the dead were believed to live on after death. This is entirely consonant with /Xam accounts, as well as those of other San groups, in which great fear of spirit beings is expressed. Therefore, when Qing said that the men who had died "were spoilt ... by the dances of which you have seen paintings", he was referring to the effects of the dance (practised by living San) on the denizens of the death realm (spirits, mythological beings) and the capacity of the dance to control (harm/spoil) their maleficent powers. Qing's four statements are entirely consistent with each other in this light.

Although this echoes !Kung trance performance (which does involve control of spirits who cause illness), it by no means proves that Qing was referring to trance. Nor do Qing's concluding comments, on the 'dance of blood', reveal anything about the dancers' state of consciousness, since falling about and nasal bleeding are products, inter alia, of exertion, not ASCs per se). The assumption that the same (or similar) forms necessarily indicate the same 'content' cannot hold. However, for the sake of argument only, it may be assumed that it was indeed a trance dance compa- rable to the !Kung's. Nevertheless, Qing and Diaikwain's comments still identify therianthropes as mythical beings/spirits of the dead, and not as live shamans. The iconographical implications (Solomon in prep.) are manifold. The present task, however, is to examine the ways in which different readings may be evaluated.

The reading I propose has various advantages over the




shamanistic reading: (1) All four clauses of Qing's commentary appear as a coherent whole. Assumptions about the limitations of Orpen and Bleek's competence are unnecessary, as is the assumption that Qing was speaking in trance codes. (2) All four components of Qing's comments are addressed. (3) Ethnographic analogy, except by reference to the broad forms of San mythology, is kept to a minimum; analogy does not depend on the specific sense of particular references; and similar forms are not necessarily assumed to have similar 'contents' among spatially, historically and linguistically separated groups. As such, the reading does not reproduce the homogeneity and anti-historicity of the shamanistic model. (4) Methodological problems-such as the claim that certain terms (e.g., 'spoilt') always mean the same thing (viz. trance) are avoided, and the meaning of terms is seen as contingently mutable, rather than fixed and invariant.

Lewis-Williams' reading, on the other hand, relies heavily diverse analogies with both /Xam and !Kung 'shamanism', and barely engages with the mythology that Qing offered in explanation of paintings. For example, he explains the reference to the 'spoiling of the elands' by reference to /Xam "shamans transformed by animal potency" (Lewis-Williams 1998:93), but the references cited refer to spirit possession and the control of animals by dead /Xam, not live shamans (Solomon 1 997a, in prep.). Lewis- Williams claims that when speaking of the spoiling of the eland Qing "probably meant that the medicine men in trance exploited the eland's power as they danced". This, I suggest, is "vague, rather than subtle" (Lewis-Williams 1998:91), as well as methodologically convoluted, and it fails utterly to explain why the eland were spoilt at a particular time. The same applies to the analysis of references to death. Sickness and 'real' death are the fundamental problems dealt with in the curing dance and !Kung trance ritual is ultimately a strategy for dealing with issues of mortality. To argue that the !Kung do not distinguish between real and trance death merely introduces more analogies. If trance is seen as a form of death, it is more probably because actual physical expiry is the central problem with which the ritual deals (as does the mythology). The preoccupation with life and death (or the relationships between the dead and the living) also points to the importance of the problems of mortality, rather than only the means of dealing with it (such as trance). Analysis in terms of trance metaphors reintroduces a variation of the depth:surface distinction, where key words (death/underwater/spoilt) are seen as having a superficial label, but another, deeper meaning.

In short, I contend that the reading I have proposed is methodologically more satisfactory, more internally consistent and more rigorous, addressing and integrating all components of Qing and Did!kwain's commentaries. Lewis-Williams (1998:93) claims that the test of the reading is the art itself, and that the art does not support my reading, but this depends on a fallacious argument. Qing's comments, as interpreted by Lewis-Williams, are fundamental to the notion that the art is shamanistic. It cannot then be argued thaf therianthropes are "too frequently depicted in shamanistic contexts and with a variety of indisputable shamanic features" (1998:93) for my reading to be correct, since the interpretation of them as 'in shamanic contexts' is already a product of Lewis-Williams's reading of the text. In other words, he argues that Qing's comments indicate that the art is shaman(ist)ic, and then- on the assumption that the art is shamanistic-argues back-

wards that the art proves the reading! This is a serious lapse of logic and the claim that the art does not support my reading cannot stand on these grounds.

Lewis-Williams (1998:92-3) also objects to my emphasis on mythology. Although the shamanists have considered mythology, it is the way they have done so that is problematic (Note 1), with the motifs and metaphors of myth said to originate in trance. That "some beings and creatures feature in both myths and rituals" (Lewis-Williams 1998:93) by no means constitutes a sound basis for dismissing my distinction of myth and ritual. Rather, I suggested that the rela- tionship between them needs further attention, since it is culturally and situationally variable. In addition, it is as likely that myth and cosmology inform trance (i.e., that the trancer experiences what s/he expects, on the basis of knowledge of this lore) as the inverse, that trance experience permeates the myths (Solomon 1997a). Certainly, the implication of Qing and Dia!kwain's testimony is that mythology is far more important than shamanistic readings have acknowledged.

A related objection is that the narrativity of myth is absent in the paintings and that "narrative must surely be an important component of an interpretation that is founded on mythology" (Lewis-Williams 1998:93). My proposition, however, was that the characters in the rock art are to be understood in relation to the trajectory of San mythology (from creation to the inception of the current order). There is no requirement for the art to be 'narrative' for it to be affiliated to myth, except within the narrow confines of seeing art as illustration. Indeed, it is difficult to see how the narrativity of myths could be transposed into the art. Visual art may be seen precisely as resolving problems of representing an order of time (or narrativity) in an order of space (Schapiro 1985:215, Solomon 1989). The discussion (above), of intentionality and of art as 'copying', indicates that this 'translation' process is far more complex. The idea that myth is a narrative form, and that if the art relates to myth it must similarly display narrative features, is misplaced, and derives from a particular view of the way in which art is said to represent thought or 'mind'. Since it seems that health and prosperity were believed to be influenced by mythological/spirit beings, the contention that the art relates to mythology-albeit not in the sense of 'illus- trating' the narratives-remains valid and has considerable potential to enhance the ways in which rock art is currently understood.

Conclusions

The problem of meaning has been extensively debated in the literature of a range of disciplines, including philosophy, linguistics, literary studies and anthropology. There has been little debating of semiotic issues in South African archaeology-partly, I believe, because of a neglect of theory. Indeed, despite his admirable record of developing the theoretical basis of rock art research, Lewis-Williams has not incorporated developments since the formulation of Pierce-Morris semiotics in the 1930s. Further examination of the theoretical tenets and models of meaning informing interpretations may bring some of the crucial debates of our time into archaeological discourses. In particular, the structuralist/semiotic-based model contains a number of problems, including its idealism; the way in which icons and symbols are conceptualised; the persistent assumption that graphic signs function in quasi-linguistic terms; logocentric notions of art as unmediated ideas or fossil thoughts;




and more. Recognition of the role of theoretical premises in con-

stituting divergent interpretations may contribute to more constructive debate, founded on a proper understanding of those premises. However, other differences of opinion are less closely aligned to premises, although they do demand further attention to questions of method, evaluation and epistemology. My contention that Lewis-Williams has misinterpreted San texts in his construction of San 'shamanism' as the context and meaning of San exemplifies this. Unfortunately, Lewis-Williams does not engage with the particularities of that critique, but merely reiterates his position. This neither constitutes argumentation, nor is it constructive.

The implications of the position outlined above are not limited to iconographical questions. Recognising that paintings are not copies of thoughts, but are mediated in the making, requires a more rigorous approach to the production of art (Solomon 1999). Skotnes' (1994) suggestion that studies of rock art need to incorporate understanding of artistic praxis may be extended to include consideration of technology more generally (but technology as it interfaces with thought, rather than as merely a study of physical processes (cf. Dobres in press). Ironically, manufacturing processes and techniques have been studied at length in relation to stone artefacts, where the minutiae of the modi- fications that ultimately characterise various tool categories have been researched. Little work of this kind has been conducted in rock art research. If rock art is to be seen as a trace of ancient 'mind', technology and artistic praxis require further attention, alongside the iconographical studies that have largely characterised the sub-discipline.

Notes

1. Astonishingly, Lewis-Williams claims he is 'not one of those researchers who have proposed that the imagery originates in hallucinations, yet Lewis-Williams and Loubser (1986:268) state that trance "generated a reser- voir of metaphors and hallucinations on which the mythological bricoleur and the artist drew . . . [M]any metaphors in San art and myth originated in this experience. . .

2. The distinction between feminine and female is crucial. Male figures can be portrayed using conventions associated with depictions of women: such images are feminised. Kaggen, in /Xam texts, is such a feminised male figure-male, but with the feminine characteristic of left-handedness.

Acknowledgements This research is supported by a post-doctoral research

fellowship from the Getty Center for the History of Art and the Humanities. Comments from colleagues at the Univer- sity of Cape Town are gratefully acknowledged.

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Meanings, models and minds: a reply to Lewis-Williams

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