Ancient Alien of Pech-Merle

Pech-Merle, or “high hill”, is a cavern in Cabrerets, France that was frequented by the curious. One day, in 1922, three teenagers found a way deeper into the cave, discovering not only awe-inspiring rock formations–stalactites, stalagmites, columns, draperies, calcite floors, and shields–but human creations, as well. Strange, haunting paintings. 

Repeatedly used by people in the Upper Paleolithic, the lower level of the cave became blocked sometime during the Ice Age by mudslides, cutting further visitation. This, however, preserved the cave’s beauty, and what people left behind, for thousands of years. Interestingly, ancient people did not live in these caves, but, as in modern times, were frequent visitors. Within the rocky time capsule, while there were hundreds of paintings, there was little else.

Within Pech-Merle, there were children' s footprints left in hardened clay, pieces of charcoal, and three stone tools (a chopper, a kind of rock with an edge that was used for cutting meat, fur, wood, plants, and sharpening spears; a burin, a rock flake used to carve or complete wood or bone tools, as well as engrave and draw; and a retouched blade, which was a blade that was made by repurposing another tool). Spanning across the walls and ceilings of seven different chambers are about 800 pieces of cave art. Some of these are geometric drawings and handprints or hand stencils; more than 70 are identifiable animals: mammoths, horses, bison, reindeer, aurochs, ibexes, fish, and even a lion and bear. There are also 12 pictures depicting humans–a rarity in Paleolithic art–some of which are animalistic people, like the Women-Bison or Women-Mammoths. None are quite like the drawing named the “Wounded Man.”

In Pech-Merle, there is a surprising amount of contrast and color. On pale gray, yellow, salmon-y-tan, and nearly white stone, there are deep, black lines, as well as bright red, golden brown, and earthy oranges. Some of the art found here is not so obvious: hands chaotically scribbling, fingers trailing through once wet mud, some of the grooves make pictures instead of “macaroni” or “spaghetti track” doodles. Just as hard to see are the scratch-mark drawings created by scraping a sharp stone against the wall, leaving pale lines and pictures behind; these are a type of cave art called engraving. Most of Pech-Merle’s drawings were made with charcoal sticks; the easiest material to get a hold of, found in every prehistoric hearth and fire pit, they were used just as charcoal sticks are used today: they were drug across the stone, leaving a dark, but not very durable, line behind. Charcoal drawings are very common and well-preserved inside of caves. Also prevalent in Pech-Merle are the bright red, golden, and orange drawings created with red ochre. Earth pigments, ochers are iron oxides that can be mixed with liquids to create a variety of mediums, like paints and crayons. Manganese and barium oxides were also used to create dark blue-black-grays, as seen in the cave’s most famous panel, the “Painted Horses.” The Wounded Man pales in comparison to many drawings in the cave. Created with a thin, reddish-brown ochre crayon, its form doesn’t stand out well against the dark gray, pocked stone, but almost blends into it despite the color difference.

About 30 inches long, the artwork features a two-legged figure. The legs are shorter than a modern human’s, laying or kicking out behind them, nearly prostrate, but with a bulbous head straining upward. Two oval eyes stare right above a sharp jaw. Something seemingly oozes from a long, bent neck and the upper chest. Eight sticks jut out from the armless torso. Ever so slightly touching the head is a geometric shape: like an upside-down T, the boxy shape has outward-pointing lines on each edge, the right one making contact with the figure. Most simply and detailed, it is a horizontal band with a downward extension at each end, as well as an upward extension in the middle.

At a glance, the figure does heavily resemble a tall gray alien, from the head and eyes’ shape, to its thick torso and stubby legs. The shape hovering above its head also looks a lot like a UFO, resembling a cone-topped or bird-shaped craft. The shape or “sign” is actually sometimes called an “aviform,” interpreted to be a bird-shaped symbol. It is, however, known by two other names, each based on a different interpretation. One alternative title is the “Butterfly Sign”, for looking like a flapping butterfly, head-on. They are also called “Placard” or “Placard-Type Signs.” This double-name isn’t for its uncanny resemblance to some sort of poster or signboard, but for Le Placard Cave, where twelve similar images were found. The strange, UFO-like image has, so far, been found in only twelve French and two Spanish caves and rock shelters, their creation spanning across about 30,000 years, based on various dating methods. The Placard interpretation sees this image as more of a symbol, motif, something abstract. Some claim it is a symbol of fertility or life, a torso and legs in its most basic form. But what it really meant or represented is a mystery, and always will be. Such a rare thing, looking at what else is near these Placards may help determine what it means, if anything.

At a glance, the figure does heavily resemble a tall gray alien, from the head and eyes’ shape, to its thick torso and stubby legs. The shape hovering above its head also looks a lot like a UFO, resembling a cone-topped or bird-shaped craft. The shape or “sign” is actually sometimes called an “aviform,” interpreted to be a bird-shaped symbol. It is, however, known by two other names, each based on a different interpretation. One alternative title is the “Butterfly Sign”, for looking like a flapping butterfly, head-on. They are also called “Placard” or “Placard-Type Signs.” This double-name isn’t for its uncanny resemblance to some sort of poster or signboard, but for Le Placard Cave, where twelve similar images were found. The strange, UFO-like image has, so far, been found in only twelve French and two Spanish caves and rock shelters, their creation spanning across about 30,000 years, based on various dating methods. The Placard interpretation sees this image as more of a symbol, motif, something abstract. Some claim it is a symbol of fertility or life, a torso and legs in its most basic form. But what it really meant or represented is a mystery, and always will be. Such a rare thing, looking at what else is near these Placards may help determine what it means, if anything.

The Wounded Man is not only the name of this alleged ancient alien, but the name of a rare cave art theme. This collection of drawings contains human-like figures with sticks protruding from their body. These are assumed to be arrows or spears, as similar imagery can be found in animal art, the beasts seemingly bleeding, disemboweled, or otherwise injured by the same sticks. Our wounded man almost appears to have a pool of blood under their neck and chest, as some animals were depicted. More interestingly, Placards have been found near Wounded Men at least twice, and, debatedly, three times if you count Lascaux Cave. I don’t interpret this one as a Wounded Man, but, uh, you can look that one up and determine for yourself.

In Paleolithic art, there are no scenes of war or group violence; only sixteen or seventeen instances of Wounded Men, speared humans, mortally wounded, or corpses. And a couple are near a Placard sign. The rarity of the two themes doesn’t definitively link them together, but, perhaps they are related in some way. A symbol of life or death, a scavenging bird. Yet, it is possible that the two things aren’t related at all. 

The figure, while uncanny in its resemblance to a Tall Gray, has features not uncommon in other pieces of cave art, near and far from Placards and this period of prehistory. Overly large heads, poorly drawn features, disproportional legs, and missing arms are, by far, not unusual. As I look through a collection of cave art in the Nature of Paleolithic Art, our Wounded Man appears less stylistically unique. Among all of the swollen heads, bug-eyes, and weirdly contorted bodies, it seems more likely that this is just another drawing of a person. Cave art tends to exaggerate a subject’s features; I would like to think that if one of the artists who stopped and drew on the walls of this cave did so with intentions of drawing an alien they saw or heard about, they would have dramatically emphasized their otherworldly, inhuman features, regardless of how human they seemed. Humans are well known to focus on oddities, especially in uncanny valley territory. 

Lastly, there’s the added challenge of actually drawing a person–something few of us can do well today with pen and paper on a table. These images were created on uneven, rough surfaces with crude, imprecise tools, at odd angles on ceilings and walls, and by firelight. Accuracy would be difficult for a skilled draftsman. Cave art has been created by people of all ages; we know this based on handprint stencils and the footprints that have been left behind. Cave art comes from all levels of skill and creativity too; in our ancient, historic record, there are mindless finger scribbles, poorly drawn, but recognizable creatures, and aweing masterpieces that utilize multiple colors, differing line work, and the shape and texture of a stone to create scenes that seem to come to life under torchlight. It is easy to fall into the trap of viewing Ice Age people as less than or different from us in ways that are not so. Just like us, they varied in skill, talent, and thought. There is every possibility that our Wounded Man is just not drawn very realistically or well–but, maybe realism was never the intention.   

Always an argument in art history, there is debate on whether cave drawings such as this one were ritualistic, important for other reasons, or mundane. While we are fairly certain people did not live in our Wounded Man’s cave, did they use it a few times for shelter? Did they keep returning to this spot for a specific reason, weather or season-related, or for some sort of special event or occasion? Was drawing this picture important? Did it signify something profound that happened often, rarely, or systematically? Or was it just someone’s memory, something personally significant? Was the Placard added at the same time, by the same person? There are many questions that we will never have a satisfying or concrete answer for.

We know where the Wounded Man was created, what tools were used to create it, and the general time it was made. All else is up to interpretation, as context only helps so much. Historians see the story of a man killed by arrows or spears. Maybe as a punishment. Maybe sacrificially. Maybe violently, as a murder. Maybe symbolically, separated from a community. Maybe even an artists’ dark fantasy or wish. Historians see Placards as a representation of nature or a woman, perhaps an abstract concept like life and death, or as a pictograph whose word or words are lost to time. Pelo-con advocates see the Wounded Man as an alien–maybe a Tall Gray–killed by ancient people. And the Placard? A UFO ship that had deposited the entity–seen before its death–or beaming it up into the craft, where it could be cared for. Finally, there is the belief that the picture is a warning, a call to kill or attack the alien creatures.

Any of these explanations could be true. Some are much more likely than others, though. Even if the story of the Wounded Man of Pech-Merle is shockingly mundane and relatable, there is something innately magical and beautiful about a long-lost drawing deep in a cave from a past we don’t know much about.

SOURCES Guthrie, R. Dale. "The Nature of Paleolithic Art." The University of Chicago Press, 2005. Explore Pech-Merle in 3D Don's Maps Aviforms

Art in America

Pech-Merle Cave Paintings