Rock Art:
Indigenous Images, Historic Inscriptions and Contemporary Graffiti

by Richard A. Rogers
(note to readers: place mouse pointer over image for image information; click on image to see enlargement)

Cultures from across the globe have painted, scratched, pecked and carved images on rock, and continue to do so. Rock art is a generally accepted (though contested) term for such images, be they pictographs (painted) or petroglyphs (pecked, scratched or carved).

For those interested in Native American rock art, which occurs across North America but is particularly prevalent in the dry climates of the Southwest, graffiti is almost always a pejorative term, generally used to refer to any contemporary additions to or defacements of a rock art panel, practically synonymous with vandalism.


In the three photographs above, the more recent, "Western" additions to indigenous rock art sites stand in stark contrast to the indigenous elements. Due to differences in technique, tools and materials, media (verbal or nonverbal), and age (dozens versus hundreds of years), not to mention spirit and purpose, they are clearly alien, other, to what is generally presumed to be the authentic part of the site, the indigenous rock art. These contemporary additions are labeled and treated, legitimately, as violations of the integrity of the sites, of the cultural heritage and/or spirituality of one or more peoples, of the archaeological resources that signs at many of these sites tell us is part of "our American heritage." They appall me, as they appall many others concerned with archaeological resources, cultural heritage, history, aesthetic appeal, and the indigenous peoples of the Americas, among other concerns.

Yet the persistence of these marks—marks made in response to earlier marks, and perhaps to the place itself—speaks to the vitality of these sites, of their ongoing appeal and effect. This essay explores some of the varieties of marks made on rock, including not only indigenous rock art images but also historic and contemporary marks and, primarily, the relationships between marks in the same place from a variety of peoples across time.

• Why, once someone has marked a rock, do others appear compelled to add their mark?

• How can additions to rock art sites be understood as part of an ongoing dialogue, not only with other peoples past, present and future, but with the places themselves?

• How do we assign value to one mark on rock versus another? with what consequences?

• What makes one mark interesting, attractive or otherwise valued while another is judged to be not only without worth but in effect a form of vandalism?

Indigenous Elements of Different Ages


For those who study rock art, the appearance of elements of apparently or definitively different ages at a site is a rich source of information. Since much rock art is difficult to date with any precision, indications of relative age can be extremely useful in analyzing a site. In the photograph at left, the two large sheep appear more recent in comparison to the smaller sheep, chain of circles and other elements below them. This difference is due to repatination. In many cases, petroglyphs are made by removing a thin layer of darker coloring, often called desert varnish or patina, from the surface of the rock, revealing a lighter layer beneath. Over time, petroglyphs repatinate. Although it is difficult to draw conclusions about the specific age of a petroglyph based on the degree of repatination due to the variety of variables involved, relative degrees of repatination allow reasonable inferences as to relative age of differentially repatinated elements. The two larger sheep are also of a different style than the smaller (and presumably older) one, which may also be helpful in interpreting the site. In this type of case, additions to a rock art site can be, and often are, considered valuable sources of information.

In some cases, a more recent element is placed in whole or part on top of an older element, a phenomenon known as superimposition. Superimposition often makes relative age particularly clear, and raises questions about the relationship between the two images, which may or may not be of similar cultural affiliation. In the photograph at right, an upside-down anthropomorph is partially superimposed on the rear end of what appears to be a much older bighorn sheep.



 



This small element from a large pictograph panel in southwestern Utah (left) is potentially a case of almost-complete superimposition, making the element that is possibly underneath practically inaccessible. Only a few elements on this complex panel are composed as the one in the photograph above, with red painted over a background of yellow instead of directly on the rock. The small, faint hand-like element visible to the left of the figure as well as the claw-like appendage to the right appear to have been mostly obliterated with the yellow before another red figure was painted on top. A mistake corrected? An act of malevolence? Updating an irrelevancy? The mystery of rock art deepens even more when we move from what does this element or panel from X culture mean? to what were (and are) the relationships among the peoples who engaged in such a place-bound, long-term dialogue?


Panels such as this one (left) from eastern Nevada are not uncommon, where a multitude of elements, likely from an extended period of time, are compacted, superimposed, juxtaposed. As long as the marks are all indigenous, and preferably (pre)historic, this is seen as a valuable resource by rock art researchers.

 

 

 

 




Pecking, Re-Pecking and Abrasions


Another alteration made to rock art motifs that is of interest to rock art researchers involves the pecking of deep holes within existing figures, as shown in the photographs above. Such pecking may have been intended to (re)activate the power of the motif or to (re)connect with the motif's spirit/power, but as with many rock art phenomena there are barriers to definitive interpretation. In some cases of this type of pecking of holes in the bodies of anthropomorphs or zoomorphs, it may not be known whether or not those who did the pecking were culturally or otherwise related to those who produced the images. Again, a valuable resource, an interesting puzzle, an expression of culture, but not vandalism.


At this large petroglyph site in northern Arizona, a number of specific motifs have been abraded in recent years, effectively obliterating a small number of the site's original motifs. The broad, meandering line that dominates the largest panel (right) has also been re-pecked. While in (pre)historic contexts evidence of re-pecking is considered of interest by researchers, this particular act of re-pecking has been repeatedly described in the rock art literature as vandalism. What makes it an act of vandalism versus re-pecking? This particular site has been marked by at least three cultural groups for a period of possibly two thousand years. What makes a mark destructive versus restorative or part of the ongoing life of a rock art site? Does the nature of the mark itself determine its value, or does it depend on intent, outcome or the status of the person making the mark?


This panel (left), located at the same site as the image above, also contains a recently-abraded element near the center of the panel. While these acts of abrasion obviously destroy the underlying images, the a priori assumption that such acts constitute vandalism seems problematic. Stories circulate among rock art enthusiasts, land managers and archaeologists as to the source and intent of these abrasions:

• Local indigenous people who have converted to Christianity obliterated what their new religion deems undesirable (at least one obliterated element at the site appears to be a copulation scene, though a number of other copulation scenes at the site were not abraded).

• A local traditional healer instructed people to abrade specific images as part of a healing rite.

• The site, which contains elements from at least two indigenous groups as well as Anglos, has served as a site for expressing inter-group tensions.

For those interested in rock art, archaeology and indigenous cultures, the preservation of each and every element of a rock art site is considered of utmost importance. But is it necessarily correct to assume that all rock art was intended to last, to be preserved? Could what may be seen as its "destruction" be instead a part of its ongoing life, as in the figures with deeply-pecked holes visible on the petroglyphs from Navajo County, Arizona, which appear above, at the start of this section?


How and why does it matter if acts such as these are carried out by non-Natives versus Natives? by members of one Native culture versus another? by more traditional versus more assimilated Native Americans? What does that tell us about how and why we assign value to one kind of mark on rock versus another?

In the photograph at right, a more recent motif is superimposed upon an older one in the upper right, while the main motif exhibits a round element that appears to have been pecked later than the original. Presumably, all of these elements can be attributed to indigenous peoples, although whether they can be attributed to the same indigenous culture is less certain. That is, there is no evidence that this was an act of contemporary "vandalism." How and why do we respond differently to this instance of abrasion/re-pecking than to the more recent acts shown in the four previous images?

Rock Art as Place-Bound Dialogue



The photograph above shows three mountain sheep at a rock art site in southeastern California. This site, like many in the Great Basin, is dominated by images of bighorn sheep, with at least 150 sheep in total.


My experiences with rock art sites lead me to think of them not only as sites expressing a culture, but as sites for ongoing dialogues between cultures and peoples separated by dozens, hundreds, even thousands of years. In 1895, Bill Key chose to make a mark on the rock (left) in the immediate vicinity of, but not on the same rocks as, the three mountain sheep depicted in the image above. His signature, date and image of a sheep, therefore, do not directly degrade any specific indigenous elements, and it seems reasonable to assume that his choice of subject, a bighorn sheep, was made in response to the indigenous rock art, itself dominated by images of sheep. Bill Key did not superimpose his mark on those marks already present, but placed them in the vicinity and with an echo of the site's dominant visual theme.

If Bill Key's sheep was in response to the indigenous rock art in the area, then TG's initials and date appear to be in response to Bill Key, as evidenced by TG's choice to place her/his mark near Bill Key's and possibly by the parallel in dates: 1895 and 1995. This is not simply defacement or vandalism (though it is that as well), but response, dialogue, be it respectful or not, legal or not, ethical or not.



 

The geometric petroglyph element in the photograph to the left is reminiscent of patterns painted on prehistoric pottery and woven into textiles. The initials "LB" were recently added to this panel situated amidst encroaching urban sprawl. While I in no way condone the addition, the more I examine the initials, the less I become convinced that they are only initials, or that their placement was either thoughtless or necessarily disrespectful. Instead, in the "LB" design I see a response to the previous element embedded in the graphic parallels between the two elements. The "B" has been nestled inside the "L," and the angular qualities of the "B" reflect not only the angle of the "L" but more strikingly the angles and forms present in the indigenous design. The traces of the indigenous element shadowed in the contemporary graffito complicate any simplistic evaluation or dismissal of the "LB" element. The group responsible for this and other graffiti/vandalism in the area, described by a local land management official as "irresponsible, immature brats," have plead guilty to the offenses.


In the same vicinity as the "LB" graffito is the contemporary pictograph shown on the right, recently painted onto a rock face that, unlike the one shown above, contains no apparent traces of indigenous imagery. While this painted element does not directly violate the aesthetic and material integrity of an existing rock art panel, it also appears to be a response only in the most general sense: it is placed in the vicinity of indigenous rock art, but, unlike "LB" or Bill Key's sheep, appears not to echo those indigenous elements in terms of medium or imagery.

While the intent and meaning behind this particular contemporary pictograph is unknown, it bears a striking resemblance to the triquetra, a pagan symbol for the female trinity (maiden/mother/crone) which is also featured prominently in the opening credits for the television show Charmed. The appearance of various "New Age" symbols at or near rock art sites, such as "medicine wheels" and various "offerings," is increasingly common and a source of concern for land managers, site stewards, rock art researchers and some Native Americans. Such symbols are presumably placed in response to the marks already present, as indigenous rock art sites come to serve as shrines or ritual sites for non-Natives.


Some contemporary additions to rock art sites are done with great care, sometimes mimicking the indigenous style or otherwise incorporating elements of the site, such as Bill Key's sheep. In the panel pictured to the left, the small zoomorph at the top center of the photograph is likely a contemporary addition. It appears to be newer due to the absence of repatination, and its style is distinct from that of the rest of the panel. Upon closer inspection, the body of the zoomorph appears to be composed of a natural hole in the rock that resulted from spalling. Someone then added the horns, legs, feet and what is likely meant to represent an arrow or dart piercing the animal from above, all in a simple scratched (not pecked) style. This addition is fairly described as a form of vandalism, violating the integrity of this otherwise pristine rock art site in an isolated corner of Nevada. But it is also a response, a turn in an ongoing dialogue, one which incorporated elements of the indigenous rock art (i.e., the choice of a zoormorph, which is the dominant theme of the entire panel, which also includes some zoomorphs with apparent arrows or darts protruding from them), as well as a potentially "natural" feature of the site itself, the mark left by spalling, which may have provided the "inspiration" for the element. Rock art can not only be understood as dialogues occurring between humans over time, but as engagements with place, dialogues not only in a fixed setting, shaped by that setting, but with that setting.


Not all additions to rock art sites incorporate aspects of the indigenous or natural elements of the sites, or do so with less skill, resulting in stronger juxtapositions and feelings of violation. In this panel from south-central Utah (right), a large anthropomorph and lizard-like element share a rock wall with historic signatures dating back to the 19th century, contemporary names (Raymond, Dennis, Sissy) crudely scratched into the patina, and a scratched outline of a person drawn with Western aesthetic conventions. Facing the indigenous anthropomorph, the contemporary figure is in profile, signed as male via common Western gender codes, and appears to be smoking, a cigarette between his lips. Again, while the style and substance of the two anthropomorphs, one indigenous and one Western, are distinct, the contemporary smoker appears to be in response to the indigenous figure due to placement, orientation and similar size.


In the upper right portion of this photograph at the left are the remnants of at least four distinct pictographs, or more precisely the faint remains of the red coloring used to produce them. In addition to John's 1891 signature, the outlines of two scratched figures, produced according to Western aesthetic conventions, are present, though whether these are historic (roughly contemporaneous with John's signature) or more contemporary is unknown. Both figures are in profile, one being a portrait of a human head, the other the neck and head of a horse. Nearby, countless contemporary visitors have left the familiar litany of names, dates and expressions of love, such that the indigenous elements in the area can only be seen with careful attention. Nevertheless, it is the presence of the indigenous rock art that presumably instigated the trend of Euro-American marks in this particular place, and possibly the site's location on a natural travel route that helped initiate the earliest indigenous marks.

Historic Marks




Non-indigenous, "historic" marks at rock art sites are not limited to names, dates and images such as those shown in many of the photographs already discussed. In the above photograph, an archaeological site including structural remains, artifacts and rock art in southeastern Utah has been marked as site number 70 of the American Museum of Natural History with a likely date of 1890. In the late 1800s, when many sites in the region were being "discovered" and "excavated" (many would argue looted) by Euro-Americans, marking sites in this way was not uncommon. In this case, the marks have been scratched into the rock near a small indigenous pictograph.


What is often striking about many historic as well as some contemporary signatures is the care with which they were made, often involving the inclusion of serifs (as in J. N. Johnson's capital J's from 1894) or the use of cursive script (as with Lewis Young's signature). T. Palmer's block lettering, however, is more common.

In addition to block lettering of names and dates, some historic marks involve elaborate images. The skull and crossbones from 1939 pictured above right is a recurring motif in historic marks.


The photographs above and the one that follows below are from the same archaeological district in eastern Nevada, the same area of Lincoln County in which the large panel was defiled by Ricky in '76 and Steve in 1977 (as seen in the first image of this essay). Carl Williams's 1926 signature occurs near indigenous petroglyphs and is old enough (well over 50 years) to constitute a historic resource as opposed to mere graffiti or vandalism. That is, this historic signature and many others featured here could potentially receive the same amount of legal protection as the indigenous rock art around them, although if they were pecked in the vicinity of (pre)historic rock art today they would constitute vandalism.


These photographs document the results of a graffiti removal effort at a site in eastern Nevada, not far from Carl Williams's signature. The large, amorphous white splotch is presumably covering up contemporary graffiti. These obliteration efforts, however, not only avoided at least some of the indigenous petroglyphs on the panel, but two historic signatures. Wallace Thurley's and Roe Thurley's 1933 signatures have been carefully preserved in the face of the destruction of most of the panel. This is likely the result of some kind of "50 year rule," insofar as trash, graffiti and other undesirable remnants on public lands can become "historic resources" after roughly 50 years, with the attending legal protections. This panel is also, of course, a lesson in the dangers of removing graffiti, where the removal effort may end up doing more damage than the graffiti it attempts to remove (horror stories involving easy-off oven cleaner are legendary in rock art circles). Today, local governments, land management agencies, offices of historic preservation and/or groups of concerned citizens may pay well in excess of $5,000 for expert restoration of a single vandalized indigenous rock art element. For example, techniques have been developed for filling in and color-matching the many bullet holes that also defile sites such as this one (rock art motifs make great targets). What makes the Thurleys' signatures de facto equivalent to the indigenous elements—that is, deserving of protection as evidenced by the careful avoidance of those elements in the graffiti removal effort? What value do the Thurley signatures possess that the obliterated elements do not—or more to the point, what leads us to assign such different values to a variety of twentieth century and presumably Anglo or at least European marks at an indigenous rock art site?



Visibility and Commerce




In the above photograph, a section of a large rock wall along a road in southern Utah served as a billboard for a nearby store and garage in northern Arizona. Elsewhere on the same rock wall, as shown in the photograph below, there are additional advertisements, historic and contemporary signatures, and indigenous petroglyphs. Once again, a natural travel route seems to serve as an encouragement for the production of historic and contemporary marks, and possibly (pre)historic ones as well.



The photograph above shows the same rock wall a few hundred feet to the right of the previous photograph. Here, a group of animals is portrayed in an indigenous petroglyph panel to the right while to the left the faint remains of another garage advertisement can be seen. In between and on top of the indigenous and commercial elements are a variety of signatures and other verbal messages from the 1890s into at least the 1950s, as well as the familiar array of bullet holes.


Commerce has played other roles in additions (defacement, vandalism) to indigenous rock art sites. The photograph at the left shows a panel in Joshua Tree National Park in southern California. While the details of the stories circulating about this panel vary, they converge on the following: somewhere between the 1950s and 1970s, this panel of indigenous petroglyphs was colored with bright, modern paints to make it stand out in a film being shot in the area. The most precise and consistent information indicates that this was done by the Walt Disney Company for a 1961 tele-film for the Wonderful World of Disney called Chico the Misunderstood Coyote. Some versions of the story say that Disney did this with official permission, others say that they were fined for the violation. Some versions say that it was supposed to be done with removable paint, and other versions indicate that new pictographs were added in addition to the painting of the existing petroglyphs. Others have suggested that the story may be, at least in part, apocryphal. The Park Service has apparently decided that ambiguity is best: the official interpretive sign at the site states only that the petroglyphs "have been traced over with paint. This type of vandalism prevents others from seeing the petroglyphs in their original form. Please help us by reporting any vandalism you observe."


If these children were playing on an indigenous rock art panel, they should be asked to get down immediately and the significance of rock art explained to them. Since this panel, the same one shown above from Joshua Tree National Park, was painted and otherwise enhanced for commercial purposes, is their presence on the panel less of a concern? Regardless of how and why they were produced, since these images are approaching 50 years old should they be protected as historic resources? The integrity of the indigenous rock art site—itself possibly marked by more than one culture over an extended period of time—has been violated, reducing its archaeological value. But this site is nonetheless a material record of the interaction between multiple cultures: at a minimum, the culture(s) who produced the indigenous rock art and the culture who painted them over for the purposes of producing a film for television. Is that record of cultural interaction, and of the attitudes of one culture towards the material traces of another, a resource of lower value than a "pristine" (indigenous only) site?


Another common addition to rock art sites is chalk. Chalk can help faint petroglyphs and pictographs be more visible, especially if the light is difficult for photography. In the above photograph, faint petroglyphs, carved into rock without patina in eastern Nevada, have been traced with chalk. This alteration may have been motivated by commercial interests, documentary interests or just a desire by someone to get a good photograph. Chalking rock art was common in decades past, although today chalking is often placed on the list of prohibited behaviors on signs and other materials that present the etiquette of rock art site visitation.

Some pictographs have also been traced in chalk, as in the Barrier Canyon style pictographs in south-central Utah pictured above right.



The "dragon" figure pictured above is at the same site as the two chalked pictographs in the previous photograph. A story often told is that at some point this element was deemed by someone to be a dragon, and that characterization was passed along. When someone decided to chalk the figure, their outlining choices were guided by the presumption that this was indeed a dragon-like figure. Subsequent research and careful observation of the element have shown it to be the faint, blurred remains of five separate figures. However, now that it has been not only verbally labeled but also chalked as a "dragon" it is difficult to see anything but a dragon. In short, it has been made into a dragon due to its labeling as such.



Contemporary Rock Art Panels




Not all contemporary rock art is produced as an addition to or defacement of historic or indigenous marks. North of Kanab, Utah, visible from the highway are a series of artificial caves, constructed as part of a mining effort in the mid-twentieth century (according to folks at the nearby Best Friends Animal Sanctuary). These caves are now filled, inside and out, with graffiti. Much of it, of course, is the familiar array of names, dates, cities or countries, and hearts filled with equations of love (DF+JH). But these sites are also a place for playfulness and even resistance. In the above photo, the name generally expected in roadside graffiti is replaced with "Nobody" followed by "1˘," implying a lack of value and gaining resonance by violating the expectations for contemporary graffiti.


The image at the left is also from the artificial caves marked by Nobody, the anonymity of graffiti encouraging this vaguely counter-cultural expression. More interesting, perhaps, is that as with both indigenous and non-indigenous rock art, the natural features of the rock surface are incorporated into the "message": presumably, the placement of this message inside a shape in the rock that vaguely resembles a marijuana joint is not accidental. As with the contemporary sheep created from a natural spall in the rock shown in an earlier example, the creator of this rock art motif has used, or taken inspiration from, an existing feature of the rock surface.



In this photograph (right), also from the artificial caves near Kanab, a variety of names, countries and hearts are accompanied by a faint image of the Tao yin-yang symbol and a pair of deeply-incised "Indians" produced according to Western aesthetic conventions, though whether or not they were created by Native Americans is unknown. Images produced by contemporary or historic Native Americans, using Native American themes but Western aesthetic conventions, are not uncommon at or near indigenous rock art sites. If this pair of images was scratched into an indigenous, "prehistoric" panel as opposed to artificial caves filled with contemporary graffiti, would their value change? in what way? Would these images be less of a violation of an indigenous site if they were placed there by Native Americans?


This rock at left is from the same site seen in the earlier photographs made in Coconino County, Arizona, where indigenous elements have been re-pecked and abraded in recent years. Here, a contemporary addition to this site—conventionally a clear case of graffiti and vandalism—involves a partially-obscured word which presumably reads "Indian" and a clear "U.S." The word "Indian" appears in proximity to a partial indigenous element, and "Indian" and "U.S." are separated by a break in the patina created by (presumably natural) spalling. Is this mere doodling, intentional or unintentional destruction, or a continuation of the site's long role as a place where multiple cultures have left their marks? I can interpret these words as a political statement about Native identity, though the specific political perspective they advance is certainly open to interpretation. Does the status and value of these two words depend on who made them? or why?

Reflexivity and Recursivity: Rock Art Looping Back on Itself




Commerce and rock art intersect deeply in the contemporary Southwest, driven by tourism among other factors. Rock art imagery is appropriated by producers and retailers of tourist merchandise, national and state parks, real estate companies, restaurants, tour companies, tourism boards and chambers of commerce. Most common among this appropriated imagery is the figure commonly but incorrectly known as "Kokopelli," the hump-backed flute player. Substantial differences exist between commercial Kokopelli images and traditional flute players portrayed in indigenous rock art, as well as between various traditional images. In the above photo, a flute player image that is clearly contemporary and obviously influenced more by commercial Kokopelli imagery than by traditional flute player rock art imagery has been incised into the rock in the vicinity of a large "prehistoric" structure and indigenous rock art site in southeastern Utah. The circle has been completed: the commercial imagery adapted indigenous rock art imagery, which then resulted in the creation of a rock art image based on the commercial designs.


Rock art enthusiasts tend to be photographically oriented, even obsessed. Photography as a medium has driven and been driven by the public's interest in rock art. Photography enables the collection, commodification, possession, appropriation and modification of rock art imagery. In the photograph to the left, a contemporary addition to a presumably indigenous rock art panel on a well-traveled trail in southwestern Utah appears to comment, recursively, on this photographic obsession, a comment which I could not not photograph. Vandalism and graffiti are destructive and disrespectful, but can also be ironic, playful, self-referential and political.



Disclaimer and caveat: This essay is in no way intended to justify or encourage any additions or alterations to indigenous or historic rock art sites except as allowed by law and established institutional procedures. Cultural resources are protected by a variety of state and federal laws, including the Antiquities Act of 1906, the Archaeological Resources Protection Act of 1979, and the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act of 1990.

A note on temporal terminology: When discussing the presumed marks of Euro-Americans or other Westerners, I use the distinction between "historic" and "contemporary," following the rough convention of 50 years before the present as the dividing line. When discussing presumably indigenous marks made in the historic and prehistoric period, I often use the combined term "(pre)historic" as the prehistoric/historic distinction is Eurocentric and complicit in colonialism. Of course, some indigenous marks can also be contemporary, though it is often difficult to discern whether indigenous marks are prehistoric, historic or contemporary, and whether contemporary marks are indigenous or made by non-Natives. Hence, all categorizations presented here are tentative.

Acknowledgements: I would like to thank Joseph Wilhelm for years of conversation on this topic and his company during many trips to rock art sites. I am deeply indebted to him for the ideas expressed here.

All text and photos copyright © 2006 Richard A. Rogers

Richard Rogers is Associate Professor in the School of Communication at Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff. He may be contacted at Richard.Rogers@nau.edu