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The Biological Roots of Art

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THE BIOLOGICAL ROOTS OF ART by Don Bradshaw
What are the biological roots of art and aesthetic experience? Don Bradshaw, Professor of Zoology at the University of Western
Australia, outlines a new theory-which seems certain to excite considerable controversy.

Modern Painters Vol2, No1, Spring 1989 pp 55-61

It is a truism that biologists consider the diversity manifest in our natural world to be the
result of natural selection over long periods of time, although debate still rages over whether
mechanisms other than simple differential reproduction may be involved.1 Proponents of
natural selection have had their successes in explaining the evolution of such oddities as the
neck of the giraffe, horses' hooves and the prevalence of maladies such as sickle cell anaemia
in malaria-ridden parts of Africa.2 Less conspicuous has been their success in accounting for
the evolution of cultural activities in man, including those generally subsumed under the
general terms 'artistic' and 'aesthetic' 3

It is an anathema to a biologist to suggest that these activities have arisen in any other way
than by natural selection, since that would imply special creation and we have no evidence of
this; but linking artistic abilities to enhanced rates of reproduction is a tenuous business, ex-
cept perhaps in the case of J.S. Bach! We need to search for clues to the real utility of such
behaviour (real in the sense that it promotes differential transfer of genes from one generation
to another). We must always keep in mind that artistic tendencies may have been exercised in
different ways in our ancestors from those in which they are manifested today.

I want to present an argument, tenuous at times, which will account for the undisputed
presence in all of us of common patterns of thought and behaviour which seem to confer little
obvious biological advantage. This argument will take us from the artistic abilities of the
greater apes, to the cave paintings of Les Eyzies in
Dordogne and the maternal instincts of 'Lucy', a three-
foot tall protohominid found in Hadar in Ethiopia
who undoubtedly walked erect but only had a brain
the size of an ape's.4

Although experiments concerning the 'artistic'

abilities of apes and monkeys date back to the
early part of the 20th century in Moscow, it was
not until the fifties that they achieved public
notoriety with the activities of, among others, Baltimore
Betsy, Congo and Sophie.

Congo at work.

The exhibition in 1957 of paintings by a chimpanzee at the Institute of Contemporary Arts

in London, opened by Julian Huxley, caused something of a stir and led to the observation
that: 'The average Englishman loves animals and hates abstract art. It is not surprising that an
animal which paints abstract pictures produces a rather irritating mental conflict. Should we
praise the animal or curse the pictures?" 5 The first drawing by the chimpanzee Congo at the
London Zoo shows a concentration of lines on an ink blot that was already present on the
page. Congo's 'finger paintings' exhibit the common 'fan pattern' produced by many of the
apes; one cannot fail but be impressed by Congo's expressive forms and lively use of colour.
Such 'paintings', which were more than adequate to fool art critics who were not let in on the
joke, attest to a nascent ability in the great apes to arrange colours in patterns which we
immediately recognise as harmonious and normally associate with works of art.

It goes further than this, however, and exhaustive trials showed that chimps such as Congo
were also able to balance forms, as well as colours, placing lines on pages already marked
with dots and rectangles in such a way as to achieve a balance with the pre-existing form.
Even more startling is the 'double-square test', where the chimp places marks on two
squares which are close together but, finally, in the expanding space between them as they
are moved further apart. The apes were not rewarded with food, as is usual when coaxing
apes to perform tricks, and they seemed to gain considerable satisfaction from their painting
and drawing activities. Congo needed rest between drawing sessions, otherwise he lost
interest, and Bella, a chimp from Amsterdam, would bite her trainer if the pencil was taken
away from her whilst drawing. She did not otherwise do this, not even when food was taken
from her!

These drawings and 'paintings' by apes attest to a primitive ability of these animals to balance
colours and forms in a conventional artistic manner which is only brought out in a captive
situation by offering drawing materials. There are no records of apes drawing or painting in
nature, despite years of painstaking observation by many observers; and so the mental set
which underlies their 'artistic abilities' must serve some other function in the wild.

Let us now speculate on the ecology of the protohominids living in the African savannah
about two million years ago.6 The first hominoid fossil was discovered by Raymond Dart in
1924 at Taung in South Africa; even though it was obviously the skull of an infant, he did
not hesitate to describe it zoologically as a completely new genus and species,
Australopithecus africanus, an ape intermediate between man and the chimpanzee.7 Dart's
discovery was greeted with glacial composure by the palaeontological community, which
preferred to regard the australopithecines as apes, because of their small brain size, even
though their teeth were humanoid.8

With the exposure of Piltdown Man as a hoax in 1953 9 (this was a combination of a
human braincase with an ape's jaw - the exact opposite of the australopithecines) and the
discovery of the pelvis and hip bones of adult Australopithecus by Robert Broom, the
experts were forced to agree that the australopithecines '... had acquired the erect posture
and gait characteristic of the family Hominidae'.10 Bipedal locomotion, rather than an
enlarged brain, thus became the hallmark of
human status and the humanoid-like features
of the front teeth of the australopithecines
assumed a new significance and
became diagnostic features of the
Hominidae.

Debate still rages over the evolutionary

relationship between the various
australopithecines, or man-like apes,
identified by the palaeontologists. What
seems clear is that the 'single-species
hypothesis' is wrong and that robust
australopithecines co- existed with Homo for
over a million years in East Africa. The
australopithecines seem to have been primarily vegetarian and there is little, if any, evi-
dence of their killing and eating game, or using tools, despite their upright posture. What,
then, were the selective pressures that led apes to assume an upright posture and a gait
which seems much less efficient than that of a four-legged animal? Current thinking
invokes foraging, rather than tool use, in attempting to explain our slow, clumsy, two-
legged gait.11 The classical concept of man's increased reliance on tools, with its associated
enlargement of the brain, all as a logical consequence of the 'freeing of the hands' with the
assumption of an upright posture is no longer tenable.12 Walking upright does not
necessarily imply enhanced brain powers, nor tool usage, as we see in the case of
Australopithecus afarensis, the Ethiopian fossil known as 'Lucy' which is much older than
the other australopithecines, yet small-brained and completely bipedal. Any Australian of
course would have immediately spotted the flaw in this argument as our fully bipedal
kangaroos are noted neither for their intelligence, nor their dexterity with tools!

Although we know a great deal about the anatomy of the australopithecines, and
something of their daily habits, we unfortunately know little of their social life and customs
and are forced to speculate from what we know of the behaviour of the great apes.13 It was
not until the late sixties that extensive and meticulous field studies were undertaken of
primates in their natural habitats, and what was so startling when compared with zoo
populations was the virtual absence of aggression and antagonistic behaviour in the wild. 14,
15
In zoos, a male-dominated hierarchy is almost invariably apparent; the dominant male is
usually the strongest and most aggressive individual.16 In the wild, Japanese monkeys, for
example, show a male hierarchy, but the dominant male is rarely the largest or most
aggressive male and in fact is chosen by an all-female jury which specifically selects for
firmness and leadership without aggression; a willingness to accept responsibility; an
interest in infants, and a capacity for forethought in a crisis.17 All in all, a reasonable list of
what many women might look for in an ideal man!

The social responsibilities of the dominant male include routinely abolishing any conflicts
that arise within the group, leading the group to an assured daily food supply, ensuring that
the group is safeguarded from potential predators. Terminating conflicts whenever they
occur is one of the major responsibilities of the dominant male, because they distract the
group and enable predators (primarily large cats) to attack the infants.

Within-group conflicts are usually reduced to a minimum by a combination of stereotyped

behavioural responses which thwart the antagonistic intentions of the aggressor. A
functional hierarchy, reinforced by daily social contacts, serves to stabilise the society with
each individual 'knowing its place' and deferring to those above it. Group coherence and
integrity is thus enhanced, which is vital if the population is to survive in situations where
the animals are under constant threat from outside influences.

One of the inevitable consequences of a male-dominated hierarchy is of course the fact

that not all males will succeed in attracting mates, and thus transmit their genes to the next
generation. This process of' sexual selection', as opposed to 'natural selection' was first
recognised by Charles Darwin18 and it opens the way for very rapid evolutionary change in
an animal, if, for example, breeding is restricted to certain sorts of males, all of which share
certain heritable features in their make-up. Sexual and natural selection can thus act together
in such a way as to advantage, almost to the exclusion of all other males, the genetic
transmission of certain qualities of the dominant male which are essential for the survival
and persistence of the group. Thus may we possibly account for the spectacular increase in
brain size of the early hominids, an increase which persisted almost unabated until approx-
imately 30,000 years ago when brain volume in man stabilised somewhere close to present
value.

Significantly, as the brain increased in size, so have the teeth become reduced in size at a
comparable rate,19 and this is why palaeontologists speculate that tool-usage in man was a
direct result of the reduction in size and effectiveness of the teeth as cutting tools and man
has been described as 'the only mammal which is continuously dependent on tools for
survival.’6 Indeed, the reduction in size and efficiency of the dentary apparatus can be seen
almost as an inevitable consequence of the singular growth in size of the brain, forcing the
teeth almost out of the bulging skull.

To what can we attribute this spectacular explosion in brain size amongst the early
hominids? Clearly the social responsibilities of our dominant male, as outlined above,
require that he be an 'intelligent' individual and one which, at times, must demonstrate a
capacity for novel and original behaviour. For example, in a study of Hamadryas baboons,
which live on steep rocky slopes,20 an adult male was watching two juveniles playing on a
ledge below it. Suddenly, a large rock became dislodged and started to fall towards the
juveniles. The male grabbed the rock and held it in place until the juveniles moved away
from its path and only then let the boulder fall. We only need to speculate that such creative
and original thinking is linked with slightly larger brain size to see that we have a potential
mechanism for enlarging, still further, the size of the brain. If dominant males are selected
on the basis of their capacity for forethought and ability to innovate conceptually, and if
these qualities are heritable, and if they, and they alone, pass their genes to the next
generation - then brain size will increase at an unprecedented rate.

But what does all this have to do with art and aesthetic abilities? To answer this question
we need to speculate on the capacity of our protohominids to utilise symbols. Symbols of
course are most often discussed in the context of language, and debate still rages over
whether apes are capable of creating a sentence.21
The studies of the Gardners22 are well
known and they claimed to have shown that, even
though chimpanzees cannot vocalise, they could
communicate effectively using either American
Sign Language or Yerkish, an artificial visual
language. These claims have largely been discounted
by videotape analyses which suggest that correct
responses were unwittingly cued by the

Congo’s fan drawing.

ape's trainer. Symbolic communication between animals however is not in doubt and has
been shown to occur not only in chimpanzees,23 but even in pigeons.24

In one study, three chimpanzees learnt how to label three edible items as 'food' and three
inedible as 'tools', again using visual lexigrams, and then two went on to categorise
numerous objects during blind trials in which they were shown only the objects' `names'.25

The fact that one of the three chimps failed to do other than associate the objects with
symbols shows that apes can use symbols in ways that emulate human usage, without
necessarily comprehending their representational function.
 An ability to create and use symbols is vital, not only for communication between
individuals, but also in order to generate new patterns of behaviour. The dominant male in
our scenario must, from time to time, be able to find creative solutions to unexpected
problems posed by a hostile and changing environment, as well as deploy a broad répertoire
of conventional responses to habitual dangers if the group is to survive. It is here that we
may speculate that the apparent 'artistic' abilities of the great apes is in reality the superficial
manifestation of a primitive form of symbolic behaviour. Manipulating colours and forms in
highly predictable ways belies some ulterior symbolic activity in the brain of the animal, as
clearly the resultant 'paintings' have no meaning for the ape itself.

The ability to associate specific objects, and also concepts, with different colours and
shapes is well known in humans and termed 'synaesthesia'. One of its commonest forms is
known as 'chromaesthesia' or 'coloured hearing', where colours and sounds are associated
automatically in the mind of the person, and in one study this was found to occur in 33% of
the sample of 500 persons.26 Five to seven percent of the subjects also reported routinely
associating numbers, days of the week and months of the year with discrete geometric
forms, which were subsequently used to recall the symbolate, and hypnagogic halucinations
and déjà vu experiences were reported by 63% and 69% of the
population respectively.
Disturbances of the body image, usually associated with fatigue, are
also very common psychological distortions which are experienced by
most people, although rarely admitted, and Alice's bizarre
experiences in Through the Looking Glass are, in reality, quite
common.

What I would like to suggest is that our protohominids 'thought' or

created 'ideas' which were, in effect, innovative solutions to novel
situations, by a primitive form of symbolic representation with colours
and forms as the symbols. Harmonic arrangements of a series of
colours -- each of which would represent, by association, an element
or symbolate3 of the initial problem - would then be translated' as
possible solutions to the dilemma. Thus, in the graphic terminology of
William Golding,27 an 'idea' is a 'picture of a picture' and an ability to
generate automatically referential symbols would permit 'thought' in the
absence of language and resolve the epistemic problem of the
generation of what amounts to new knowledge. The male ape which
saved the two infants from the falling boulder in the example above,
must have been able to visualise the probable outcome of the boulder's
trajectory and ‘invent' an appropriate response to avoid this
happening and it is most doubtful that such an occasion would arise
very day. Clearly, here we see an example of purposive behaviour
which is also innovative.

An Australopithecene of the same type as Lucy, the skeleton found in Ethiopia by

American anthropologist, Don Johanson.

The most impressive examples we possess of the graphic abilities of our ancestors are
undoubtedly the cave paintings of Lascaux, Font de Gaume, Les Combarelles etc., at Les
Eyzies in Dordogne and from Altimara in Spain. These were executed by Cro-Magnon man
some 25,000 to 30,000 years ago and their haunting beauty has puzzled artists and art
historians alike since their discovery in the late 19th century. Such graphic art goes far
beyond what we have been positing for our protohominid, but I believe it is possible to
interpret these artefacts as the end result of the same process and I would argue that they
functioned primarily as educational devices and were not viewed by Cro-Magnon man, as
we view them now, as uniquely aesthetic manifestations. It is understandable that one is
overwhelmed by the audacious use of colour and line by these long-dead ‘artists', but there
are a number of important features about these and other examples of palaeolithic parietal
art that need to be considered when attempting to interpret their 'function'.

Firstly, as anyone knows who has ever visited the caves in Les Eyzies, the paintings are
found in almost inaccessible regions of deep caves and it is only following modern
excavation that they can now be acceded to with any semblance of ease. The paintings were
thus clearly not meant to be easy of access and did not function as a proto-hominid 'art
gallery'. Secondly, the paintings could never have been seen by anything other than very
dim firelight and it is doubtful if some of their vivid colours could ever have been seen by
their painters in situ. Thirdly, painstaking study, commenced by L'Abbé Breuil28 and
completed by one of his students, has shown, by statistical analysis, that the arrangement
and disposition of the images within each cave is not random. Certain animals always occur
together and some more frequently in certain parts of each cave, as if there were some
narrative sense to it all.

I would suggest that the cave paintings of Cro-Magnon man had nothing to do with art, as
we commonly understand the word. They encapsulated privileged information, which was
hidden in the most secret places known to Cro-Magnon man, and this was probably only
divulged to very few individuals who would in turn, add to it and divulge it to another so
chosen. Even a cursory analysis of the cave paintings shows that they represent, in quite an
extraordinary way, the behaviour of the animals they portray, hence the origin of the idea
that these were 'magical' representations which gave the hunters power over their prey.
Perhaps they did, but certainly they portrayed as exactly as any zoological text might do, the
attitudes and herding behaviour of their prey and suggest the strategies that might be needed
to snare and kill them. It is not hard to imagine a process of cultural transmission where the
dominant male chooses his likely successor and then slowly, over a period of time,
inculcates him with the animal lore on which he must depend if he is to ensure the survival
of the group to be entrusted to him. Each male probably would, in his own lifetime, add to
the paintings and they are indeed a palimpsest executed at different periods of time, and
often with scant regard for what was already engraved or painted on the surface.28

If we accept this admittedly radical interpretation of the cave paintings as cultural artefacts
which functioned to reinforce a male-dominated hierarchy of emerging humans, and also
represented a repository of knowledge which could be used to generate novel solutions to
environmental hazards, then we come close to a biological definition of art. The primitive
symbolising function, using colours and forms, that would have facilitated conceptual
innovation in a very crude sense has evolved into a complex visual language by the time of
Cro-Magnon man, operating both as a biological lexicon and an instrument of cultural
coherence in humans which seemed very little different from us.29

It is also close in many ways to Donald Brook's theory of art in which he envisages
artefacts, or what he terms 'art objects' as having a 'trans-institutional' rôle and an 'epistemic'
function in generating new hypothetical or prescriptive models of the world.30 A similar
idea is found in Ernst Gombrich's essay on Freud and the psychology of art in which word
play and manipulation is suggested as the key to a possible aesthetics of psychoanalysis.31
Italo Calvino, in his The Literature Machine, also speculates on the way in which
apparently harmless associations may generate new ideas:

“At a certain moment things click into place, and one of the combinations obtained -
through the combinatorial mechanism itself, independently of any search for
meaning or effect on any other level - becomes charged with an unexpected meaning
or unforseen effect which the conscious mind would not have arrived at deliberately:
an unconscious meaning, in fact, or at least the premonition of an unconscious
meaning.”32

This refers of course to the most creative aspects of literary and artistic activity but, as a
description, it is amazingly close to the process that I suggest provides a mechanism for
conceptualisation in primates that lack language.

Two questions remain to be

answered. What happened,
around the time of Cro-
Magnon man, to halt the rapid
increase in brain size of
the human lineage: and
what biological role, if any,
does art play in society today?

Left wall of the axial drawing at Lascaux.

Although, anatomically, humans are very similar to the great apes,33 and in fact genetically
differ by less than two percent in total DNA composition from the chimpanzee34 – the
human is nonetheless a very unusual animal, even amongst primates. Anthropologists have
never ceased to emphasise the 'uniqueness' of humans as evidenced by their obvious intelli-
gence, reliance on tools, language and sophisticated forms of cultural transmission of
knowledge.35

But humans are also quite unique in their sexual behaviour and there is no equivalent in
the animal world to females that are continuously receptive to the attentions of the male and
give no external clue to their time of ovulation. Instead of mating at specific times of the
year, we mate continuously and develop strong bonding ties which usually persist until the
young are reared. Humans also display a much greater elaboration of so-called 'epigamic
characters' than other primates - examples are beard growth in the male and the
permanently-developed breasts in the female, and these are seen as features which also
function to strengthen the pair bond.
At some point in time then, the male-dominated hierarchy of our protohominids must have
given way to a 'modern' mating system where monogamous unions would have been the
rule rather than the exception. This would have been associated with the transition from a
very precarious hunter-gatherer situation, where survival would have necessitated novel and
innovative behaviour - and hence the selection pressure for ever-increasing brain size - to
the occupation of a more stable ecological niche, with a more assured supply of food. Only
then would the male-dominated hierarchy break down, and with newfound material
affluence would come the possibility of every male acquiring a mate and thus transmitting
his own genes to the next generation.

Such an abrupt shift in ecology must have been associated with the more efficient use of
tools with which to both capture and harvest food, and it is not surprising that a rich variety
of artefacts only occurs relatively recently in the hominid fossil record. Owen Lovejoy, in a
fascinating article36 speculates that bipedality and the upright posture of hominids is an
adaptation which directly enhanced reproductive fitness, by enabling the totally-dependent
young to be held and carried from place to place in a tribe that was continuously on the
move. He sees the 'nuclear family' as the sine qua non of man, which is essential to permit
the long period of parenting and learning so characteristic in the human species. If this be
true, then the evolution of the nuclear family also heralded the end of the process of
directional selection which was responsible for our enlarged neocortex and higher
intelligence.

And what of art today? To some extent one can detect the importance which societies
placed on visual images, especially in the middle ages and early renaissance. Kenneth
Clark, in an interesting essay entitled “Art and Society',37 drew attention to the fact that
image art in the past has always been created by, or on behalf of a small minority or élite.
The 'function' of the images is invariably to illustrate or confirm a system of beliefs held by
that élite, and they very often are employed consciously as a means of maintaining that
system. He goes on to speculate that - 'It seems that an image achieves the concentration,
clarity and rhythmic energy which make it memorable only when it illustrates or confirms
what a minority believes to be an important truth'. Significantly, ornament typically still
functions today to denote status (a bishop always has a finer cope than a deacon and we
expect cathedral portals to be more richly ornamented than warehouse doors) and is thus
inseparable from the concept of hierarchy. In a society in which art played a major rôle we
would therefore expect the majority of people to feel that art is of vital importance to them,
confirming their beliefs, informing them about matters of lasting significance, and, through
images, making the invisible visible. Hardly the situation today where 'art' seems more like
the product of an alienated and neuraesthenic élite, rather than some vital process which
reinforces our cultural identity.38 The reasons for the progressive breakdown of an
established mythology with its own iconography in occidental society have been well
documented, and, today, art sits uneasily in a materialistic culture. Perhaps only in the areas
of female fashion and advertising can we detect a still strong relationship between 'art' and
society, with an interaction between an élite and the masses, a sense of status and an
unconscious feeling for symbolism.39 The problem of art is also the problem of spirituality
and its place, if any, in our essentially materialistic culture and one will not be solved
without the other. To quote Kenneth Clark again:

‘… art depends on a condition of spiritual energy, which must devour and transform all
that is passive and phlegmatic in life, and no amount of goodwill can take the place of this
creative hunger.'37
Until we hunger for art then, we will probably be fed with bad images, and Gresham's Law
- that bad money drives out good - is probably equally true of spiritual currency. If,
however, what Donald Brook says about art is true,30 then art may be much more important
to us than we realise and we should not be precipitated into concluding prematurely that its
biological role is finally over.

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