Chapter XXVIII: Aboriginal Art (2)

The aboriginal is a keen observer, and takes careful note of many things besides a kangaroo, a snake track, or other similar natural objects which may lead him to his daily bread. When travelling in the Buccaneer Archipelago in the far north-west I remember one of the natives drawing my attention to a peculiar formation in the clouds, and saying, in the Sunday Island dialect: “_Arrar ninmiddi_,” which means, literally: “Cloud knee.” My instructor proceeded to draw the extraordinary shape he could see with his finger upon the hatchway of the pearling lugger we were sailing in, after which he completed the figure of a man. I was struck with this man’s faculty of observation, because the cloud effect he referred to was rather out of the common and projected from a cirro-cumulus like the bent limb of a swastica.

It is in this way that many inspirations come to the cave artist. Repeatedly one has occasion to notice how a pre-existing feature or defect in the rock face—a crevice, a floor, a concretion—becomes the centre piece of a design drawn to suit it. The feature one finds most commonly embodied in a cave drawing is a small hole. This often figures in the place of an animal’s eye, or a hole into which a snake is disappearing. A local bulge in the rock may also be taken in as part of a design and represent portion of a head or body.

Not only does the artist embody suitable natural features in his designs, but, conversely, he also applies his knowledge of form to explain already existing phenomena in the world about him. The embodiment of his artistic ideas in his poetical explanations of Nature’s wonders plays, as might be expected, an important role in his mythology. These remarks apply especially to any striking characteristics in the sky. When among the tribes of the Musgrave Ranges, I ascertained that the black-looking gap in the Milky Way, close to the Southern Cross, which is commonly known as the Coal Sack, was referred to as “_Kaleya Pubanye_,” that is, the “Resting Emu.”

In the north of Australia, the Larrekiya, Wogait, and other tribes have adopted a similar designation for a series of dark spaces along the Milky Way. But they have extended the idea considerably in that the Coal Sack represents only the head of a gigantic emu, the beak of which is pointed towards the _Musca_ constellation (_i.e._ towards the south). A small star of the Southern Cross group very appropriately stands for the eye of the bird; the nebulous effect usually surrounding this star gives it an extra life-like appearance. The neck is but faintly discernible near the head, but becomes clearly visible in the neighbourhood of the nearer Pointer; it passes between the two Pointers and curves slightly towards the constellation of _Lupus_. Within the constellation of _Norma_, the dark space widens considerably and represents the body of the emu. The blunt tail turns sharply towards, and into, the constellation of _Scorpio_. A nebulous patch lying practically on the point of junction between the imaginary areas of _Ara_, _Scorpio_, and _Norma_ affords a good division between the legs of the bird, whilst another lying between μ and ζ of the Scorpion group separates the tail. The lower portions of the legs are not very clear, but some of the more imaginative natives maintain that they can distinguish three toes on each extremity. There is no doubt the primitive eye has herein discovered a striking similarity between an optical phenomenon in the southern sky and a living creature, which is of great importance in the hunting field, and at the same time plays a prominent role in tribal folk-lore. They refer to this emu by the name of “_Dangorra_.” Vide Fig. 17.

1. Rock carvings, Flinders Ranges.

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

As affording a means of comparison, a hunting scene is reproduced carved upon the surface of a club by aborigines of Victoria. The little group is composed of an aboriginal hunter who in one hand is poising a spear and in the other is carrying a boomerang; behind him are two emus standing in much the same position as that assumed to be the case in the heavenly image just described.

The Minning at Eucla recognize only the long neck of the emu in the sky, and refer to it as “_Yirrerri_”; on the Nullarbor Plains the same portion is looked upon as the heavenly tjuringa of the emu.

Speaking generally, there is perhaps no other creature living which figures so frequently in aboriginal art, both on the cave wall and in the dance, as the great struthious bird of Australia. This is no doubt due in the first place to the admirable way in which it lends itself for the purposes mentioned; its antics in the field suggest many tricks for mimicry at a corrobboree, and its distinctive form supplies the artist with a model which never fails to attract the attention of the artistically inclined among his people. In Plate XLIX, 2, we have a pipeclay drawing of an emu from the Katherine River which is rather exceptional in that it shows the bird more _en face_ than is usual; the proportions are, on the whole, good, except that the head is screwed upwards in a rather strange way. On a boomerang from Broome (Fig. 18), we have a series of engraved emu pictures, all in profile, and in different attitudes.

On the whole, an aboriginal’s pictures are flat and without perspective. He takes the inspiration direct from nature and reproduces the subject singly, and as a separate entity; a number of such designs are drawn side by side with or without pictographic sequence. But there are countless occasions upon which artists, especially the more gifted, prefer to draw a real scene from life, combining subject with action. Environment or surroundings rarely, if ever, receive attention.

Take as a very simple illustration the lizard shown in the pipeclay rock drawing from the Katherine River (Plate XLIX, 3). The general shape of the body, together with the large and well-differentiated head, strongly suggests a species of the large monitor which is common throughout the district. The interesting feature about the picture is, however, the life which is indicated by the fact that the reptile is drawn in the act of shooting out a long, split tongue.

Again, in the charcoal sketch of two crows from the Pigeon Hole district (Fig. 19), one bird is represented in an attentive attitude, as though on the point of flying away, while the other is very characteristically shown in the act of cawing.

One could produce an almost endless variety of decorated figures, representing men and women performing at ceremonial dances and corrobborees to illustrate the life and action which is embodied in aboriginal art. In Fig. 20 a selected number of pipe-clay drawings from the Humbert River, Northern Territory, have been grouped together to serve this purpose.

The most interesting effects, however, are those brought about by a combination of two or more figures. How different, for instance, the two kangaroo shown together in Fig. 21 seem to those previously discussed (Plate XLVII). These are charcoal drawings from Pigeon Hole on the Victoria River, and in them the hopping movement of the animals is indicated very clearly. The animal in the rear is in full flight, as the erect position of the tail and the general holding of the body betray; but the one in the lead is on the point of drawing up and is turning its head back towards its mate.

How realistic, too, the little bark drawing is from east of Port Darwin (Fig. 22), in which a bird of prey is shown mounted upon a wallaby or kangaroo, with its claws and beak embedded in the flesh of its victim.

1. Carved boabab nut, King Sound.

2. “_Wanningi_” from north-western Australia.

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

A neat pipe-clay drawing from the remote Humbert River district is presented in Fig. 23. The group, which is three feet in length, is composed of a central figure of a man who is holding one arm on each side towards a dog, as if offering them something to eat or for the purpose of patting them. The dogs seem to be giving their attention to the man.

Two more charcoal drawings from Pigeon Hole, though roughly sketched by the artist, depict very graphically scenes from the hunt. In one (Fig. 24), the hunter is in the act of stalking a buffalo or bullock with his spear held in readiness to throw, while in the other the attitude of the hunter indicates that the spear has just been thrown and is entering the body of the prey, a kangaroo (Fig. 25).

The carving of an Arunndta man, reproduced in Fig. 26, is most effective. An angry husband has been caught by the artist in the act of punishing his wife with a waddy. The placement of the legs of the two persons indicates stability on the part of the man engaged in the flagellation, and a swinging movement on the part of the woman who is being held back by her hand.

We have already seen the carved representations of two stages in a stone-knife duel by an Arunndta tribesman (Fig. 4), and here, in Fig. 27, an ochre drawing is reproduced which is, if anything, more animated than any previously discussed. A spear-boomerang duel is being fought, during which each of the combatants is protecting himself with a shield. The artist has evinced considerable talent in portraying the men just at the moment when both are bounding through the air towards each other, the one on the left parrying his opponent’s spear, while the other, on the right, is preparing to receive the blow from the boomerang.

One might now go a step further in analyzing aboriginal art. The productions we have studied so far embody the ideas of form, life, and action; and, it might be added, occasionally one finds a very fair sense of composition as well. Such, indeed, might already be said to be true of several of the pictures discussed above, but a finer specimen lies before us in the charcoal drawing from Pigeon Hole (Fig. 28). This faithfully portrays a scene from a gala ceremony, in which the body of performers, fully “dressed” for the occasion, are acting before the leader, who, in his turn, is being supported by two others in the foreground. It must be admitted that the composition of this group of figures is remarkably good, and, what is quite exceptional, a very successful attempt has been made at perspective. All figures are shown in different attitudes of dancing. The impression this charcoal drawing gives one, at first glance, is that of a rough sketch in crayon resembling the outline a European artist might make on his canvas prior to starting upon the actual painting.

Leaving that section of aboriginal art which deals essentially with designs copied directly from Nature in a sense more or less purely artistic and æsthetic, we shall turn our attention to a few types which are more specialized.

From a study of his religious ideas, we have learned that the aboriginal identifies himself with some mystic, natural creature or object, which he adopts as his “totem.” It would only be reasonable to expect, therefore, that some of the drawings represent these objects; and that they are recognized by the natives as having particular personal or family significance. Looked at from a modern standpoint, these designs are really the equivalent of a family crest, and are claimed only by those rightfully entitled to them. This explanation must be given for many of the naturalistic designs appearing on rocks, trees, grave posts, and personal belongings. These “totemic” crests or symbols being hereditary, we have before us a primitive form of heraldry, a conception we have already learned to be covered by the word “_Kobong_,” originally introduced by Sir George Grey from the north-west of Australia.

We have also ascertained that some of the central as well as north-western tribes of Australia believe that the earliest tribal ancestors originally were more animal than human in appearance, and adopted the shape of a man only at a later period; that they can, however, return to the animal form whenever they desire; and that others remain semi-human. It is not surprising, therefore, to find amongst their drawings and carvings representations which are partly human and partly animal in outline; these are honest attempts at perpetuating the traditional appearance of the ancestral beings of the tribe. In the photograph attached hereto (Plate LI, 1), taken at Forrest River, two pictures of such creatures are to be found which are drawn in ochre. There were many others, from three to five feet in length, reptilian in shape, some with human hands and feet, others with hair shown upon the head, and in most of them the sex unduly prominent. These remarkable designs are, therefore, not naturalistic, but have been evolved on purely fictional or mythological lines, based upon the tradition of the tribe and upon the imagination of the artist.

From the consideration of these artistic effigies of their Demigods, it is not a big step forwards which brings us face to face with the sacred tribal drawings. During initiation ceremonies, especially of the now practically extinct south-eastern tribes of Australia, gigantic figures resembling a human being were moulded into the surface of the ground and subsequently tinted with ochre, which were supposed to conceal the Great Spirit or Deity, which, like the “_Altjerra Knaninja_” of central Australia, watched over the proceedings as the young men passed from a condition of adolescence to that of permanent manhood; numerous carvings and ochre drawings were also made upon the trunks of any trees nearby.

Not only during the initiation ceremonies are these practices resorted to, but when a sacred observance is contemplated, especially those having to do with the “totem,” elaborate designs are painted in ochre upon the surrounding surfaces of rocks and trees which depict an act connected with the traditional origin of the sacred object.

A classical illustration is to be found in the MacDonnell Ranges, at Emily Gap. According to Arunndta belief, it was at this spot that the early semi-human ancestors of the witchedy grub or “_Utnguringita_” alighted from Altjerringa. They brought with them large numbers of the grub, which they cooked and ate. The territory dominated by these ancient beings extended from Heavitree Gap to Emily Gap, and across to Jessie Gap. On the western wall of the first-named gap, known by the natives as “_Ndariba_,” an inclined slab of rock, not high above the level of the sandy bed of the Todd River, contains a series of peculiar concentric iron stains which are regarded as the impressions of the stern of an Utnguringita Altjerra who sat there, and, as he collected grubs, moved forwards. The Utnguringita came into frequent conflict with the Dingo or “Knullia” people whose country lay immediately west of Heavitree Gap, but, nevertheless, they blessed the land with many eggs, which developed into larvæ and supplied the tribe with food.

Eventually the Utnguringita ancestors returned to Altjerringa, but they left a number of stone tjuringas in Emily Gap, which are supposed to be occupied by the spirits whenever a sacred ceremony is performed on the spot. On the eastern stony wall of this gap some rather imposing designs are to be seen, which originally must have occupied most of the area available. The drawings are very old; their origin dating back long before the recollections of the present generation. It is wonderful how well the work has withstood the denuding action of the weather for so long. The natives tell you that the old Altjerringa men applied the pigment to the rock and that they mixed it with the “_knudda_” (fat) of the grubs. It is more likely that the ochres were mixed with emu fat; in places the pigment seems as though it were chemically combined with the rock, and it could only be removed by chipping the surface. The designs in their present condition (Plate LI, 2) consist of a series of parallel, vertical lines, alternately coloured red and white, and capped by horizontal bands of the same colours, the white of which containing three or four red dots. What the original designs may have been like, it is now difficult to say, but the natives maintain that they included the images of some women they call “_Aluggurra_,” who were waiting at the foot of the cliff while the men were concealing their tjuringas in the rocks and nooks above. To the present day, the old men of the local Arunndta group store their ceremonial objects in the same sanctuary, thinking that the sacred figures on the wall will protect them from the hands of inquisitive intruders.

There remains yet another class of ochre drawing which deserves mention. I allude to the famous discovery of Sir George Grey in 1837. There is perhaps no other Australian drawing, old or modern, which has been so freely discussed and criticized. During an expedition in the northern Kimberleys of Western Australia, it was my good fortune to re-discover several drawings of this type in practically the same locality as that recorded by Sir George Grey, near the Glenelg River. One figure was perfect, others were partly obliterated or incomplete. The best design was in a cave near the top of a prominent bluff the local Worora people call Berrial; it was drawn in ochre upon a steep face of rock immediately under an overhanging ledge of quartzite. The figure was unquestionably that of a human being, although it measured fully nine feet in length. It lay fully extended, upon its left side, with its arms placed straight against its sides. It reminded one forcibly of a Buddha in a Ceylonese temple. What made the figure seem un-Australian was that it was clothed in a long, striped garment, resembling a priestly gown, from which only the head, hands, and feet were excluded. A loosely-fitting belt is also shown. As seems common to all these drawings, the facial features are only indicated by the eyes and nose, the mouth being omitted. Another characteristic, which is shared by all other drawings, is that the head is surrounded by a number of peculiar, concentric bands, through which, and from which, many lines radiate, giving the structure the effect of a halo surrounding the head of a saint. The picture bore an unmistakable likeness to the type illustrated by Sir George Grey, and was drawn in red, brown, black, and white. Vide Fig. 29 and Plate L, 2.

There is no doubt about these curious drawings, now more or less adopted by the local tribe, having originated under some exotic influence. It is historically known that for centuries past excursions have been made to the north of Australia by Macassans and other eastern people, who may have been responsible for the first drawing of a figure of so sacerdotal an appearance, which the aborigines have since learned to copy so perfectly. It has also been speculated that shipwrecked sailors might be responsible for the representation of the clothed human form; in fact, an American scientist, John Campbell, claims to have deciphered an ancient Japanese inscription upon one of Grey’s figures referring to the “hopeless number,” presumably of the castaways.

In regard to the quaint head-gear which distinguishes these designs, one need not go far from Australia to find something quite analogous, for the Papuans wear an article which is quite similar to what might be suggested by the drawings.

We now turn to a more psychological aspect of primitive Australian art, which includes such factors as convention and imagination. These processes lie behind the symbolization of thought which has evolved a means of pictographically conveying messages from one individual to another, or, collectively, from one tribe to another. Through long usage, the artist has learned to reduce the complexity of a familiar, naturalistic design in such a way that, while still retaining its intrinsic interpretation, he is able to demonstrate by a few lines what ordinarily would require an intricate drawing. The ultimate aim of such a system is, of course, to reduce the execution of a design to a minimum of energy and time, without imperilling the correctness of its interpretation. But whilst the artist is designing to simplify the complexity of his thought symbol, the reciprocative factor of assimilation on the part of his fellows is being stimulated. And by means of this joint education, a design, with a simple motive from Nature behind it, might gradually become so conventionalized that the uninitiated fails entirely to grasp its significance.

1. Hand marks in cave, Port George IV, Worora tribe.

2. Foot marks in cave, Port George IV, Worora tribe.]

During this evolution, or, should one say, metamorphosis, in the perception of art, the tendency must necessarily be to smooth out the irregular and unsymmetrical contours of Nature and bring the design down to as nearly geometrical as possible. For the same reason, a single design is often repeated indefinitely, so that a single form derived from a simple motive may expand into a continuous chain or ornate pattern covering a considerable area. A large series of devices has been established, the majority of which are known all over the Australian continent; but, as the same time, there are many signs which are entirely of a “totemic” nature and can only be understood by a person belonging to that particular “totem.”

Let us take a few simple cases illustrating the different points enumerated above.

A simple drawing of a lizard would include a substantial body, with rounded head and tapering tail; the legs are usually extended, and at times have the claws marked. Vide Fig. 30.

The conventionalized form consists of a long straight line crossed at right angles by two shorter bars, at points about one-quarter and three-quarters distance respectively from one end.

A turtle design consists of an oval, representing the shield, from which extend the head, tail, and paddles. In its modified form this becomes a circle with six short lines radiating from the circumference at equal distances apart (Fig. 31).

The picture of a frog in its simplified form becomes, like that of a turtle, a circle, but has only four radiating lines (Fig. 32). When designs like these are expanded symmetrically into patterns, the result is after the style of that shown in the accompanying sketches. These patterns are extensively used in totemic devices upon tjuringas and implements.

The drawing of an echidna, or native hedgehog, ordinarily is like the sketch shown above (Fig. 33), but as a result of its conventional transformation it becomes a simple hexagon, from the corners of which the limbs may or may not be shown as simply projecting lines. The pattern obtained by linking up a number of hexagons is not uncommonly found engraved upon weapons and implements.

Many of the conventional patterns are not so apparent as the few just mentioned. Let us take, for instance, the “_Ladjia_” or Yam Tjuringa pattern of the Arunndta. Only the initiated would be able to recognize in a number of groups of small, concentric circles, regularly placed at the corners of rectangular figures, as the stems of the yam plant, and a system of parallel lines connecting the circles both straight and diagonally as the roots. Vide Fig. 34.

Tracks of animal, bird, and man are conspicuous among the designs, generally, whether they be true copies from Nature upon the walls of a cave, more or less modified gravures upon weapons, or conventional patterns incised upon a message stick. A dog track is represented by a larger dot, suggesting the imprint of the ball of the paw, to which are attached four smaller dots, which lie in a row in close proximity to the former; the smaller dots stand for the impressions of the claws (Fig. 35).

A kangaroo track shows the two long parallel median impressions, with a lateral at an acute angle to the former at either side. The same figure is repeated a short distance away from the one described, and in a straight line with it. The same design on a smaller scale denotes a wallaby track. Occasionally the lateral lines are dispensed with (Fig. 36).

Small oblong dots drawn in pair at equal distances from each other indicate the hopping of a rabbit (Fig. 37).

The characteristic broad arrow-like footprint of an emu has already been referred to; the smaller variety of the same design implies that a wild turkey is meant. When a number of birds are to be represented collectively, the archetype is developed into a continuous pattern by linking one track up with another into a chain (Fig. 38).

When attention is to be drawn to the fact that the birds are laying, or sitting on eggs, a number of small circles are drawn about the track (Fig. 39).

A lizard track is indicated by drawing a number of dots, equally spaced along a straight line, and on alternate sides of it. The dots are the claw impressions, the line the trail left by the tail (Fig. 40).

A single wavy line, or a number of parallel wavy lines, represents a snake or a snake track (Fig. 41).

The human footprint is either correctly shown in detail, or is reduced to a short, straight line at one end of which five (occasionally only three or four) dots are drawn in a sloping line to indicate the toes. When walking is to be implied, these footprints are either shown one behind the other in a straight line, at equal distances apart, or they stand alternately right and left by an imaginary central line. The common way of showing the last-named system conventionally is to connect the alternate footprints, whether they be actually shown or not, by a zig-zag line (Fig. 42).

In all cases mentioned above, the track may stand equally well for the object itself.

It is a common thing to see two or more of the above systems combined, after the style of the figures shown on page 344.

The interpretation of the first of these messages would be: “A man is tracking a rabbit.”

The second (Fig. 44) would read: “A hunter is pursuing an emu and is accompanied by his dog.”

In the same way as the natives of the Northern Territory have applied their artistic talents to deciphering images of earthly objects amongst the celestial bodies, and point with pride upon the great emu, “_Dangorra_,” which nightly watches over them, so the Wongapitcha and Aluridja of central Australia recognize in the constellation we know as the Southern Cross the shape of an eagle-hawk’s claw, and call it in consequence “_Warridajinna_”; the Milky Way they consider to be a creek bed and assign to it the name “_Karru_”; the northern Kimberleys tribes believe the Milky Way to be the track of a great carpet snake they refer to as “_Womma_.”

In the representation of a fish, the scales often take the form of a cross-hatched pattern; but there are many cases in which the form of the fish is not shown at all, yet the cross-hatched pattern remains and is nevertheless indicative of the fish.

A design, fairly common in the north of Western Australia, consists of two wavy lines which are parallel, in the inverted or reflected sense, and joined at one end. The true significance of this pattern does not become evident until one hides from view all but three of the “waves,” say that portion lying to the right of the dotted line in the accompanying sketch. When this is done, the form of a “flying fox” is immediately recognized (Fig. 45).

In central, northern, and eastern Australia, a pattern frequently met with on boomerangs, fighting sticks, and message sticks, consists of strings of lenticles longitudinally striped and generally associated with kangaroo tracks. This device is analogous to the one standing for the walking of a man, viz. the zig-zag, in so far as it stands for the hopping of a kangaroo. Here and there one finds the pattern “finished off” at one end with the head of a kangaroo (Fig. 46).

A duel or tribal fight of any description is graphically recorded by two crossed boomerangs, but the conventional derivative of this design is simply supplied by two crossed lines (Fig. 47).

Time is chronicled by two phases of the moon; a crescent standing for new, and a circle for full moon.

The substance, origin, home, or habitat of any creature figuring in a drawing or gravure is particularized by the addition of a circle-within-circle design. For instance, in the tjuringa of the witchedy grub shown in Fig. 48, the parallel, straight lines, enclosed within a “U,” at the left-hand side, represent the grub, the three concentric circle groups in the centre are the gum trees in which it lives, the “U within U” pattern at the right is an ancestor whose “totem” was the witchedy grub, while the parallel lines at the extreme right of the tjuringa are markings on the grub which have been adopted by the man who owns the tjuringa, in the form of cicatrices, he cuts on his chest.

The “U within U” pattern is frequently met with engraved upon tjuringas, and in most cases it conventionally conveys the idea of a “sitting” person or animal. We have already noted something similar in the peculiar concentric iron stains of Heavitree Gap (page 342), but in the following three tjuringa drawings of the Arunndta additional illustrations are given.

In the first instance, an “_Arrera Knaninja_” or Kangaroo Tjuringa, the meat and the fat of the animal are represented by the two series of concentric circles in the centre, whereas its sinew is indicated by the horizontal lines connecting the circles. The numerous U groups on both sides of the central figures stand for a great number of kangaroo, each of which is sitting or lying on the ground (Fig. 49).

1. Cave drawings, Forrest River, north-western Australia.

2. Decorating the body with pipe-clay, Humbert River, Northern Territory.]

The second example is from the “_Yeapatja_” or Caterpillar Tjuringa. The large “circle-within-circle” groups in the centre are generally recognized to be the bushes upon which the caterpillars were born, while the U groups with smaller concentric circles in their centres are intended for caterpillars attached to smaller plants upon which they are feeding (Fig. 50).

Lastly, a sacred drawing of the “_Alangua Knaninja_” or Native Pear (_Marsdenia_) “totem,” which belongs to the Altjerringa women, is composed of a central “circle-within-circle” group representing the “totem,” whilst surrounding it a number of U groups are supposed to be the mythic women seated on the ground (Fig. 51).

We shall now turn our attention to the consideration of the representation of the human figure and its derivative forms. Several more or less obvious designs have already been discussed. The first step towards conventionalism is seen in the two figures from the Humbert River district, the first an ochre cave drawing, the second a carving on a boabab tree (Fig. 52). We notice in the ochre drawing, which was one foot six inches high, a fairly shapely and solid figure of a man holding a shield in his left hand; in the carving, which measured one foot nine inches in height, the solid and shapely outline has been reduced to a matter of just a few straight lines; that is, if we neglect for the present the consideration of shield and boomerang which the figure is holding. The result is, therefore, a design resembling a Latin cross, at the lower end of which is attached an inverted V-shaped symbol representing the legs; a small circle may or may not be added to the top end to stand for the head.

This design is often repeated indefinitely in a lateral sense, so that a rather ornate pattern results in which the individual figures “join hands” and their “toes touch” below. A chained pattern, such as is shown in the accompanying sketch (Fig. 53), may be noticed in Plate XLV, 1, near the centre of the picture, below the ledge on which the bold drawing of a snake appears, and on the same level as the semi-human design on the extreme left.

The ultimate stage of this conventionalism so far as the human figure is concerned is a simple, straight line, the upright arm of the cross; this is extensively employed in carved representations of people on message sticks. We might now hark back to the question at the beginning of our disquisition on aboriginal art “what lies in a mere line” and supply one answer at any rate.

Any number of people might be represented by the same number of short, straight, vertical lines. Followed by a zig-zag line, such people are represented as being on the march. When a small dot stands on each side of the straight line, or perhaps a number of dots in intermediate positions between the lines, the design conveys the idea that the people are camped, the dots standing for camp fires. Moreover, when a horizontal line lies over the upright lines, the last-named indicates that a hut, shelter, or breakwind was used during the encampment (Fig. 54).

When there is an obvious, and intended, difference in the lengths of the upright lines, the longer represent men, the shorter women.

Reverting now to the cross, and looking more closely into its development, expansion, and embodiment in anthropomorphous designs, we meet with one or two points of considerable interest.

We have had occasion to note that throughout central and northern Australia, the tribes during the final acts of initiation ceremonies make use of a sacred cross, called “_Wanningi_” or “_Wanninga_” in the former region and “_Parli_” in the western portions of the latter. These wanningi are constructed only immediately before they are required and are destroyed again the moment the ceremony is over. Women are not allowed to see them under any consideration. A wanningi is made by fixing two pieces of wood together in the shape of a cross, then, by starting at the intersection of the arms, a long string, made of human hair, is wound spirally round and round, from arm to arm, until the whole space between the arms is filled in. The size of these crosses varies from three or four inches up to two feet or more. This object is produced by the Aluridja just before the mutilation of the neophyte is to take place. At this critical moment of the youth’s life, when he is stepping from adolescence across the great gap which will lead him to manhood, the spirit of the Great Tukura presides invisibly concealed within the wanningi, but returns to his high abode again when the function is over. Vide Plate XLIII, 2.

Wordaman native with his body and head decorated in imitation of skeleton and skull, Victoria River, Northern Territory.]

The spiral winding of hair-string around the arms of the wanningi associates the idea of the rhombic outline of the string with the arms of the cross. In the representation of the human form, one often finds the two patterns combined, or, it may be, the rhomb replaces the cross.

In the example before us (Fig. 55, a), we have an engraved pattern appearing on a spear-thrower, the motive of which, were it not that the artist had added a human face, would have been very difficult for the untrained eye to recognize. As it is, we have the unmistakable evidence of an anthropomorphous design. Not only does a modified rhomb represent the body of a man, but the figure itself is flourishing the crossed arms of a “_Wanningi_” in its right hand. The principal design thus identified passes, at the bottom, into a pattern composed of several polygonal figures which may, no doubt, be looked upon as derivatives of an original rhomb.

In the other illustration (Fig. 55, b), which is also a carving upon a spear-thrower, the intricate association of the rhomb with the human form is again apparent. The figure of a man, with face in profile, is represented in a plain and more or less conventional way; the straight trunk with the two arms resting upon the hips, symmetrically on each side, in itself suggests the rhomb, but, in addition, most of the intervening spaces have been filled in with parallel lines and a cross-hatching pattern which embodies the rhomb.

Conventionalism in the representation of the human figure has thus gone further than the mere inclusion of the cross or the rhomb motive, by working in with the original design a derivative or new pattern which fills up all the surrounding spaces.

By means of this system, a new element is introduced in the shape of symmetry. If a vertical line, drawn through the centre of the trunk, be taken as a median line in a simple design of the human figure, all subsequent patterns which are drawn will be grouped symmetrically about it. The most popular pattern used to fill up the available spaces with, is one of a “concentric” type. By this method a distinctive, bi-laterally symmetrical pattern is evolved, which after prolonged usage may actually take the place of the original, and have a true anthropomorphous significance.

Take the illustration of conventionalism of this kind shown on the carved pearl shell covering from King Sound reproduced in Fig. 56. The original motive was a simple line drawing of a human being after the style of the one on the left-hand side. The next stage in its evolution was brought about by blocking the areas between the limbs, and between the head and arm, on either side, respectively, in a manner which made the resulting pattern appear equally balanced in respect of a median longitudinal line running through the back and head of the original figure.

Very numerous designs of this nature are constantly met with in all tribal areas of Australia, but in most cases the stranger who is not aware of the intermediate or transitional stages may fail entirely to grasp their meaning or origin.