THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF DARKNESS edited by Marion Dowd and Robert Hensey Oxbow Books Oxford & Philadelphia Published in the United Kingdom in 2016 by OXBOW BOOKS 10 Hythe Bridge Street, Oxford OX1 2EW and in the United States by OXBOW BOOKS 1950 Lawrence Road, Havertown, PA 19083 © Oxbow Books and the individual contributors 2016 Paperback Edition: ISBN 978-1-78570-191-7 Digital Edition: ISBN 978-1-78570-192-4 A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the publisher in writing. Printed in **** For a complete list of Oxbow titles, please contact: United KingdOm United StateS OF america Oxbow Books Oxbow Books Telephone (01865) 241249, Fax (01865) 794449 Telephone (800) 791-9354, Fax (610) 853-9146 Email: [email protected] Email: [email protected] www.oxbowbooks.com www.casemateacademic.com/oxbow Oxbow Books is part of the Casemate Group Front cover: *** Back cover: *** Contents List of figures ...........................................................................................................................vii List of plates..............................................................................................................................ix List of tables ...............................................................................................................................x Introduction ..............................................................................................................................xi List of contributors .................................................................................................................xv 1. Past dark: a short introduction to the human relationship with darkness over time ..............................................................................................................................1 Robert Hensey 2. Darkness visible. Shadows, art, and the ritual experience of caves in Upper Palaeolithic Europe .........................................................................................11 Paul B. Pettitt 3. Between symbol and senses: the role of darkness in ritual in prehistoric Italy ............................................................................................................25 Ruth D. Whitehouse 4. Experiencing darkness and light in caves: later prehistoric examples from Seulo in central Sardinia ........................................................................................39 Robin Skeates 5. The dark side of the sky: the orientations of earlier prehistoric monuments in Ireland and Britain.......................................................................................................51 Richard Bradley 6. In search of darkness: cave use in Late Bronze Age Ireland ....................................63 Marion Dowd 7. Digging into the darkness: the experience of copper mining in the Great Orme, North Wales ....................................................................................75 Sian James 8. Between realms: entering the darkness of the hare paenga in ancient Rapa Nui (Easter Island) ..............................................................................85 Sue Hamilton and Colin Richards vi Contents 9. Dark places and supernatural light in early Ireland ................................................101 John Carey 10. Enfolded by the long winter’s night ...........................................................................107 Charlotte Damm 11. ‘The outer darkness of madness’ – the Edwardian Winter Garden at Purdysburn public asylum for the insane ............................................................117 Gillian Allmond 12. Descent into darkness ...................................................................................................129 Tim O’Connell 13. Coming in and out of the dark ...................................................................................139 Gabriel Cooney Plates .......................................................................................................................................145 Chapter 8 Between realms: entering the darkness of the hare paenga in ancient Rapa Nui (Easter Island) Sue Hamilton and Colin Richards Introduction One of the most well-known and spectacular feats of prehistoric monumentality is to be found on the small island of Rapa Nui ((cid:7)aster Island) in the South Pacific. Here, from c. 1200(cid:558)1600 AD, over three hundred massive (cid:513)stone men’ (moai) were (cid:154)uarried, dragged and erected on elevated stone platforms known as image ahu (Pl. 10); a term used to distinguish ahu with statues as opposed to those without (Martinsson-Wallin 1994, 52(cid:558)3; Van Tilburg 1994, 77). Over two hundred more remain in various states of completion at the great moai (cid:154)uarry of Rano Raraku (Skj(cid:232)lsvold 1961). Many other moai lie recumbent along the statue roads (ara moai) that lead toward Rano Raraku (Richards et al. 2011). However, it is the imagery of the moai on the ahu with their extraordinary topknots (pukao) that once adorned their heads that tends to dominate the popular (and archaeological) imagination. In many ways this view is warranted; as Charles Love notes, the (cid:513)(cid:7)aster Island ceremonial centres, collectively called ahu represent one of the most elaborate and complex examples of religious architecture ever developed by Polynesians’ (1993, 103). In this (cid:154)uote, Love highlights another important consideration(cid:497) that despite its physical and supposed cultural isolation, Rapa Nui represents the eastern-most corner of the Polynesian triangle. Therefore, archaeological understandings of the ahu have to be situated in a broader Polynesian context, whilst acknowledging the local setting where the monuments directly participated in the constitution of ancient Rapa Nui ritual life. Both visually and materially the image ahu were truly remarkable monumental structures. The beautifully sculpted moai with their red scoria cylindrical pukao stood in an elevated position on elongated rectangular, sometimes canoe-shaped, platforms. The sea-facing rear wall of the platform was carefully constructed with close-fitting black basalt slabs. The frontage was formed by a sloping ramp surfaced with large rounded beach stones called poro, which led down to an open plaza. Behind the ahu, crematoria were often positioned adjacent to the ocean. Today, at the image ahu, the majority of moai lie recumbent, as do the pukao, but originally they stood elevated on the platforms facing inland (Pl. 10). Interestingly, during excavations at Ahu Nau Nau, on the north shore of the island, fragments of 86 Sue Hamilton and Colin Richards white coral and disks of red scoria were recovered which together formed eyes for the moai (Heyerdahl 1989, 217(cid:558)9; Van Tilburg 1994, 132(cid:558)3). (cid:7)yes (cid:513)were believed to embody the mana, life or soul of the individual’, noted Handy (1927, 65). Conse(cid:154)uently, when the eyes were inserted, the moai became animated, and their gaze was inland towards the rising ground beyond the plaza area. At this point it is worth noting that the ahu are not isolated monuments, but form part of broader ahu landscapes which incorporate a range of different structures (Hamilton et al. 2011). One of the most fascinating components is the canoe-shaped houses, known as hare paenga. In this paper we wish to examine the hare paenga in terms of the qualities associated with (cid:513)being inside and outside’ the house. Specifically, we are interested in the experience of passage between the outside world of daylight and into an internalized domain that is constantly cloaked in darkness. We then intend to extend this experience of passage and transgression to bring insight into the broader landscape position of the monumental ahu. We argue that to enter the hare paenga was homologous to passing beneath the gaze of the moai and a journey from the land to the sea. We also argue that the materiality of the hare paenga drew on that of the seashore to create analogous experiences of passage between the cosmological domains of Ao and Po. An island wrapped in images The vast majority of ahu tend to be constructed in close proximity to the sea (Fig. 8.1). This is an interesting distribution, as not only are the ahu situated along the coastline but they really are (cid:513)on the edge’ in being positioned effectively between land and sea. This situation is precarious as today a substantial number of ahu are being severely eroded and undermined by the relentless pounding surf of the Pacific Ocean. Such a pattern of erosion also reveals an unexpected topographic characteristic of the image ahu; they are fre(cid:154)uently positioned in low-lying areas such as at the base of shallow valleys running down to the sea. Indeed, when travelling along the island’s southern coast, it is only as one rounds steep coastal bends that image ahu are seen, before falling out of view again. The overall impression of their situation is that the monuments are almost hidden and the vistas to and from the ahu are restricted to their immediate valley environs. At first sight it seems paradoxical that such large expressions of monumentality should be built in such unassuming low-lying locations that serve to diminish their overall presence and visual impact (Hamilton 2010). A resolution to this paradox can be found in a reconsideration of ahu architecture. Here, the identification of what is referred to as an ahu complex (Martinsson-Wallin 1994, 68) or complex ahu (Van Tilburg 1994, 79) is of value. The attribution of such complexity is due to the recognition that ahu are frequently composed of a series or grouping of different architectural components (e.g. Love 1993). These include ahu platforms, crematoria, plaza areas and paved ramps descending to the ocean. Curiously, in the literature the significance of the paved ramps has been over-looked despite their obvious central position in the overall spatial organization of the ahu complex (Fig. 8.2). For example, in her multivariate analysis of ahu, Martinsson-Wallin (1994, 54(cid:558)5) failed to include their presence/absence as a variable. (cid:350).(cid:562)Bet(cid:160)een realms(cid:497) entering the darkness of the hare paenga 87 Figure 8.1: Distribution of ahu on Rapa Nui (after Lee 1992 and Martinsson-Wallin 1994). Figure 8.2: The canoe ramp assumes a central position in the ahu complex at Tahai, on the west coast of Rapa Nui (Adam Stanford). 88 Sue Hamilton and Colin Richards The ramps have not always been neglected. In his popular account of the 1955(cid:558)6 Norwegian expedition, Thor Heyerdahl recalls that, (cid:513)in many parts of the island we had seen wide paved roads which disappeared straight down into the sea’ (1958, 190). He also noted that they were called apapa. However, in attributing function he considered that the ramps were roads upon which topknots (pukao) would have been unloaded after they had been transported to the ahu by sea(cid:497) (cid:513)one apapa ran down to a shallow inlet at the foot of a large temple platform on the south coast. The inlet was full of boulders that the old navigators had had to clear a wide channel to enable craft to come alongside the landing stage’ (ibid., 191). Significantly, during its reconstruction Mulloy (1995, 37) effectively reversed this interpretation in identifying the apapa structures as canoe ramps at the Tahai ahu complex. He emphasized the ramps as, (cid:513)necessary solutions to the problem of protection of canoes on an island plagued by continuous high seas and extremely rocky coastlines’ (ibid., 37). That the necessary protection for canoes was among a massive monumental complex was ignored, as was the significance and tapu (ritual prescription and sanctity) attached to launching a canoe throughout Polynesia (e.g. Best 1976 (cid:509)1925(cid:510), 164(cid:558)5). The centrality of the canoe ramp at Tahai could have important implications. If access to the ocean was an important criterion for the situation of image ahu, then their low- lying coastal locations become comprehensible. Perhaps we can go further in suggesting that ahu complexes were situated to control access to the sea at particular times. There is another conse(cid:154)uence of the extensive coastal distribution of ahu, and that is the creation of a skin or membrane of monumental architecture that effectively wraps the island. In short, the ahu complex on Rapa Nui can be partially understood as a desire to ritually control access to the sea on specific occasions. Instead of the canoe ramps being epiphenomenal architecture, they were in fact a central component of the ahu complex. If canoe ramps were central, it begs the (cid:154)uestion why such monumentality should be deployed between the land and sea(cid:501) Secondly, given the architecture of the ahu, why should certain journeys from the land to the sea require passage before the eyes of the moai? In order to address these questions it is necessary to consider the relational spatial categories that Polynesians employed to differentiate between island topographic zones. For Hawai’i, Malo (1951 (cid:509)1898(cid:510), 16(cid:558)7) identifies a geocentric ordering of island space with the belt of land bordering the sea being called kahakai (the mark of the ocean). The division of land and sea also provided a spatially defined frame of reference, as Hyslop notes, (cid:513)it is the distinction of landward versus seaward which is salient in the absolute systems of the island residing, seafaring peoples of Oceania’ (2002, 51). Reflexively, such an ordering of space in an island world inevitably emphasizes visible and important physical boundaries such as the seashore, allowing an inward(cid:558)outward directional category to co-exist with concentric layers. Conse(cid:154)uently, as Fran(cid:179)ois mentions in discussing linguistic categories of directionality in Vanuatu, (cid:513)the island is perceived as a container, the outside of which corresponds to the surrounding sea’ (2003, 426). It is also (cid:154)uite clear that in the past Polynesians maintained an ambivalent and ambiguous relationship with the ocean which on the one hand provided food and sustenance in abundance through fishing (e.g. Best 1977 (cid:509)1929(cid:510); Barber 2003), and on the other was home to both supernatural enemies and monsters (Orbell 1985, 137). In (cid:350).(cid:562)Bet(cid:160)een realms(cid:497) entering the darkness of the hare paenga 89 the context of voyaging, the Pacific Ocean has been consistently described as a route or roadway (e.g. Gladwin 1970, 33(cid:558)6; Kirch 2000; Richards 2008). In conceiving the ocean in such a manner, as a route (ara) or conduit, it effectively drew disparate places together, thereby potentially fusing widely separated islands and ocean pathways within a single locale (cf. Heidegger 1978, 354). In terms of cosmology, the creation of the Polynesian world occurred with the brief fusion of the complimentary and antagonistic opposites Ao (darkness, underworld, inner, earth, female) and Po (lightness, upper-world, outer, sky, male) (e.g. Handy 1927, 34(cid:558)9; Goldman 1970, 37). After the creation of the inhabited world, they remained (cid:513)cosmic principles constituting the dual order of the universe’ (Bausch 1978, 175). The manifestation of Ao and Po is complex. For instance, Po is recognized as both sacred and an underworld, and was fre(cid:154)uently associated with a locality or place such as Hawaiki (Handy 1927, 34(cid:558)5). Nevertheless, Handy ultimately concludes that Po (cid:513)should be regarded more properly as signifying a state of existence’ (ibid., 69). A corollary of the ocean as a conduit allowed at certain junctures linkage of the inhabited world to the origin island Hawaiki. Such a conjunction of places and realms, which could be problematic if not extremely dangerous, clearly re(cid:154)uired some form of ritual control and sanction. Because Polynesian cosmology was based on procreation, social reproduction in Polynesia depended on the intermittent conjunction of one realm with the other (cid:558) the (cid:513)irruption’ of Po into Ao (Gell 1993, 126). For this irruption to occur a conduit had to open between the two realms. In the context of the human body, (cid:513)orifices were important (cid:499) because they played a central role in the channelling of mana between the realms of ao and po’ (Shore 1989, 147). Childbirth is an obvious example of conjunction between Po and Ao, and the vagina acted (cid:513)like other orifices, as a conduit between this world and the other’ (Thomas 1990, 70). Another example of passage between these realms is represented by the journey of the soul on death from the world of the living (Ao) to the sacred realm (Po). At the end of a person’s life it was time for the soul to leave the island world and venture back to Hiva, the Rapa Nui e(cid:154)uivalent of Hawaiki. Access to Hiva necessarily involved passing into the realm of Po and throughout Polynesia, (cid:513)it was generally believed that there was a definite route or path taken by souls of the departed on their way to the next world’ (Handy 1927, 71). Access to the ancestral realm Hawaiki often involved travelling across an island in a westerly direction to a specific coastal location, where the spirit (cid:513)jumped off’ into the depths of the ocean to continue the journey westwards and downwards. Spirit roads or paths leading westwards to a (cid:513)jumping off’ point were present throughout (cid:7)astern Polynesia, including Hawai’i where spirits made their way to Keana Point at the north-west tip of Oahu (ibid., 71). A similar belief existed in the Mar(cid:154)uesas(cid:497) The souls of the Marquesans passed along the high mountain ridge that forms the backbone of the main island of their group to the high promontory at the west called Kiukiu ... Below the promontory was a rock. When the souls clapped their hands this opened, the sea rolled back, and the soul entered the nether world. (Handy 1927, 72) These accounts of the passage taken by the soul back to Hawaiki are illuminating. They each involve entering the darkness of the underworld as represented by the ocean and a cave. This 90 Sue Hamilton and Colin Richards journey from lightness to darkness reverses the qualities and necessities of birth, embracing both the transformatory qualities of voyaging to Hawaiki and the passage into the sacred subterranean world of Po. Under such circumstance, the membrane or skin separating these domains is of crucial importance, as is control over any potential transgression. Here, the idea of the island as a container is useful because under such circumstances the nature and materiality of containment is of crucial ontological concern and anxiety. The hare paenga The architecture of the canoe-shaped houses (hare paenga) of Rapa Nui is unique within the Polynesian triangle. Prehistoric Polynesian houses with rounded ends have been recorded in Samoa, Mo’orea and Hawai’i (Van Tilburg 1994, 71), but none resemble the clear boat-shaped ground plan and profile of the hare paenga. A resemblance between the hare paenga and the cabin of a model Tuamotuan double-hulled voyaging canoe prompted (cid:7)dwin Ferdon Jnr (1981, 3(cid:558)6) to suggest that the initial colonists of Rapa Nui were from the Tuamotu islands. On landing, the cabin would be removed from the voyaging canoe and set up as the first habitation on the island, as was documented for the island of Raraka in the Tuamotu islands ((cid:7)mory 1975, 58). Accepting multiple landings on Rapa Nui, Ferdon (1981, 5) considered this important, as the hare paenga would have represented a material symbol of certain ranking members of a particular immigrant group. Regardless of the origins of the hare paenga it does represent a particularly striking form of architecture that is clearly referencing the morphology of a canoe. Interestingly, in constitution the hare paenga combined a range of different materials drawn together from different locales. The foundation of the house was formed by a series of partially dressed rectangular basalt slabs (paenga) that had holes drilled into their upper surface. These were partially sunk into the ground to create an elliptical house plan with a narrow side entrance passage (Fig. 8.3). The upper frame of the house was fabricated from a combination of timber, rushes, grasses and leaves. A number of thin wooden posts, which acted as rafters, were set in the holes of the paenga and drawn together at the top and attached to a ridgepole (hahanga or hakarava). Some of the larger houses were additionally supported by ridge posts (pou or tuu). Due to the elliptical setting of the paenga, the house gradually narrowed from the centre and the supporting posts correspondingly decreased in length. This effectively lowered the roof height of the house at either end. Successive layers of rushes, leaves and grasses were then applied to form a thick thatched roof to the house (Routledge 2005 (cid:509)1919(cid:510), 215; Metraux 1971 (cid:509)1940(cid:510), 197(cid:558)8). As an outside extension to the house, the entrance porch and (cid:513)courtyard’ were floored with rounded beach pebbles (poro) creating a semi-circular external area (Figs. 8.3 and 8.4). Landscape associations, particularly with ahu, have tended to reinforce the interpretation of the hare paenga as a high status dwelling (e.g. Lee 1992, 118; Flenley and Bahn 2002, 94); possibly occupied by (cid:513)chiefs and their relatives’ (Martinsson- Wallin 1994, 124), or (cid:513)high-status priests and chiefs’ (Van Tilburg 2003, 237(cid:558)8). This