From the outside to the inside. The paleolithic artist's gaze
For millennia, Palaeolithic artists observed the world around them; the natural environment in which they lived. Their gaze absorbed the forms of animals, their details, their majesty. They drew constant inspiration from nature. They were inspired by the surrounding environment. The animals they portrayed were carefully observed and studied in all their dimensions: anatomically, behaviourally, and in terms of movement. This deep knowledge was then transferred onto cave walls and small objects as a means of expressing ideas, myths and stories.
These depictions were not mere decorations: they were part of a creative process where the object, the artist and their gaze became inseparable. As John Berger noted, such reflected images aim to evoke something absent, something that lives on beyond the depicted object itself. They go beyond what the artist saw and what we now see. They are rich in meaning and absorbed by the community as a form of communication. These images are the visual voice of a collective, expressing and affirming a shared identity. They contain a symbolic universe made up of ideas, values, myths, and social roles. It’s likely that these painted and engraved animals and signs were part of a mythological framework that helped explain their world, offering certainty, yet also reflecting their fears and questions. Through these images, knowledge was passed on, and social relationships or behaviours were shaped. They were a way of understanding—or attempting to understand—their environment. But this worldview wasn’t static. Over time, hunter-gatherer groups experienced deep environmental changes that brought existential challenges. These shifts led to the redefinition of beliefs and the creation of new myths to interpret unfolding events. New iconographies would emerge, or existing ones would be reshaped and reinterpreted. This reminds us that these representations were not fixed or isolated.
What continues to astonish us is their ability to observe, to perceive, to abstract, and to artistically capture the rich animal world of the Pleistocene: horses, aurochs, bison, hinds, goats, deer. How they selected these creatures and transferred them onto the complex canvas of cave walls or small, everyday objects made of bone or stone. How they used interior space creatively, associating animal figures and abstract signs, sometimes even depicting true scenes. In many cases they would apply abstract and metonymic formulas. One example is the depiction of women through sexual symbols—a whole represented by a part—often hidden deep within the caves. This reveals a complex way of thinking that still eludes us.
We may never fully understand the meaning of this vast iconographic repertoire. But we do know that much of their mental universe revolved around nature and their deep integration within it. That connection shaped their visual culture. Something of it remains with us, even now. In a way, we see ourselves reflected in these works. We recognise something familiar and feel the same awe—just as they must have—when contemplating the majesty of a stag, the alertness of a doe, the graceful movement of a horse, the power of the auroch or the bison. All that capacity for perception, emotion, abstraction and artistry is what made us human. If that ever fades, so too will our humanity.
The exhibition seeks to reveal the relationship between Palaeolithic humans and their environment: how they selected and observed animals in meticulous detail before painting or engraving them. We’ve retraced part of their journey. Today, we may not encounter all the animals once depicted in the caves, but we have found worthy counterparts in natural settings. We've studied their features and behaviours, comparing them with Palaeolithic representations. This effort aims to capture the decisive moment, as only photography can. We’ve identified reindeer facing one another in Tito Bustillo, the large reindeer on the cave’s main panel or on the plaque in Las Caldas, bison pairs in Covaciella, the posture of a standing bovine on a pendant from Las Caldas or on the Great Ceiling of Altamira, the grace of engraved does in Llonín or painted and engraved ones in Les Pedroses, the detail of their head expressed in the engraved scapulae of Juyo and Altamira, painted horses in Tito Bustillo and the herd of horses on the plaque of La Paloma. But the inner parts of caves also hide more enigmatic images. These are abstract forms we identify as signs—some partially recognisable, like a hand, a finger mark, or a vulva symbolising femininity. Others are more complex, like the large claviforms in the cave of L’Tebellín; symbolic figures that may have served as territorial markers. Caves like La Lloseta suggest the presence of a genuine iconographic programme rooted in this symbolic world.
Finally, the tour through this photographic exhibition invites us to appreciate the Palaeolithic artist’s remarkable powers of observation: their ability to capture forms, expressions, and gestures that, to them, were never trivial. Moreover, we must interpret them as a crucial part of the representation and its meaning. This perspective invites us to delve deeper into the rich variety of meanings behind each image in the bestiary and its collection of symbols. It widens the scope of our research, allowing us to explore a much richer and more profound iconographic universe than previously imagined. The study of animal communities and ethology may offer promising new paths for understanding Palaeolithic art.