Neanderthal and the Peak of the Paleolithic · PREHISTORY
Dated to around 17,000 years ago, in the heart of the Magdalenian period, Lascaux cave brings together nearly 1,500 painted or engraved figures — an assemblage so dense and so accomplished that it long fueled, wrongly, a controversy over its age: some saw in it a pictorial style closer to the Solutrean than the Magdalenian, before the most recent dating confirmed its attribution to the latter period.
The cave unfolds across several distinct spaces. The Rotunda, better known as the Hall of the Bulls, forms its most famous part: it displays monumental aurochs — one of them exceeds five meters in length —, horses, deer, and an enigmatic animal nicknamed “the Unicorn.” It is followed by the Axial Gallery, the Passage, then the Nave, which brings together four major groups of figures — the panel of the Footprint, that of the Black Cow, that of the Swimming Deer, and that of the Confronted Bisons — before the Apse and the Chamber of Felines.
The artists of Lascaux mastered complex pictorial techniques: iron oxides for reds and yellows, manganese dioxide for blacks, applied with a brush, a pad, or blown through a hollow bone to create spray effects. They also made use of the wall’s natural relief — bumps and hollows — to give volume and movement to their figures, a sophistication that explains the cave’s reputation as one of the summits of cave art worldwide.
At the back of the cave, in a recess called the Shaft, lies the only anthropomorphic figure in all of Lascaux: a schematic man, bird-headed, shown in an aroused state, facing a bison whose entrails spill onto the ground, not far from a rhinoceros. This unique scene has, since its discovery, prompted radically opposed readings. The traditional interpretation sees a man knocked down by the bison he has just disemboweled, a victim of his own hunt. Other researchers propose an inverse reading: the man, far from being defeated, would be standing, triumphant, facing an animal already dead or dying. A third, mythological or shamanic reading imagines a symbolic transfer between man and bird, a prelude to a spiritual flight. None of these readings has today gathered a consensus, and the Shaft Scene remains one of Prehistory’s best-kept enigmas.
Reopened to the public after the Second World War, the cave had to be closed as early as 1963: the carbon dioxide released by visitors’ breathing encouraged the growth of algae and mold that directly threatened the paintings. Since then, Lascaux IV, a full-scale, remarkably precise replica installed a few hundred meters from the original cave, has allowed the public to discover this masterpiece without endangering its preservation.