Published in: The Oxford Handbook of the Archaeology and Anthropology of Rock Art. Link to publication in the UWA Research Repository

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1 Recording rock art: strategies, challenges, and embracing the digital revolution. Hampson, J. (2017). Recording rock art: strategies, challenges, and embracing the digital revolution. In The Oxford Handbook of the Archaeology and Anthropology of Rock Art Oxford University Press. Published in: The Oxford Handbook of the Archaeology and Anthropology of Rock Art Link to publication in the UWA Research Repository General rights Copyright owners retain the copyright for their material stored in the UWA Research Repository. The University grants no end-user rights beyond those which are provided by the Australian Copyright Act Users may make use of the material in the Repository providing due attribution is given and the use is in accordance with the Copyright Act Take down policy If you believe this document infringes copyright, raise a complaint by contacting repository-lib@uwa.edu.au. The document will be immediately withdrawn from public access while the complaint is being investigated. Download date: 24. Jan. 2018

2 Oxford Handbooks Online Recording Rock Art: Strategies, Challenges, and Embracing the Digital Revolution Liam Michael Brady, Jamie Hampson, and Ines Domingo Sanz The Oxford Handbook of the Archaeology and Anthropology of Rock Art Edited by Bruno David and Ian J. McNiven Subject: Archaeology, Archaeological Methodology and Techniques Online Publication Date: Mar 2017 DOI: /oxfordhb/ Abstract and Keywords This chapter examines the how and why of rock art recording by focussing on the tools and recording strategies available to researchers as well as their strengths and weaknesses, with particular emphasis on the role of the digital revolution. The discussion overviews factors considered when recording rock art, along with some of the reasons that rock art recording projects are undertaken. The chapter then turns to other factors, challenges, and unforeseen events that can impact rock art recording projects, paying attention to site context and the motifs themselves. It also explores the use of photography, video recording, computer enhancement techniques, and digital modeling in documenting rock art sites; the most common forms of damage that recorders may inflict; where and how records of sites and motifs are stored; and who should be able to access these records and how. The chapter concludes with a future outlook for documenting rock art sites. Keywords: rock art recording, digital revolution, rock art, site context, motifs, photography, video recording, computer enhancement techniques, digital modeling, damage One of the most important aspects of rock art research is the documentation of a site, its motifs, and surrounding environment. For decades, researchers have sought ways to accurately record these elements using systematic methods (for summaries, see, e.g., Bednarik 2007; Domingo Sanz 2014; Loendorf 2001). These endeavours have resulted in an enormous body of literature (far too vast to cite in detail in this chapter) relating to the various tools and strategies available to the researcher in their quest to produce a complete, or as close to complete as possible, record of a rock art site. However, as we discuss later, not everyone uses the same methods, and invasive recording techniques have attracted considerable criticism for their damaging effects on rock art. Page 1 of 28

3 Two major periods of rock art recording can be discerned in the literature: a pre-digital phase in which recording projects relied primarily on manual methods (e.g., sketching, rubbing, tracing) combined with film photography, and the digital era that includes the use of high-resolution digital cameras, laser scanners, and image enhancement and manipulation software while still incorporating aspects of manual documentation. This later phase has seen the most significant developments in the recording of rock art sites and motifs and has dramatically altered the way researchers carry out projects. New and improved ways of enhancing faded and deteriorated images are providing unparalleled views of imagery that may well have been previously missed, while three-dimensional visualizations of rock art sites are yielding new and innovative ways of experiencing sites that may not otherwise have been accessible to all. In this chapter, we explore the how and why of rock art recording by examining the various recording strategies available to researchers and evaluating their strengths and weaknesses. We highlight the role of the digital revolution and conclude by outlining a future for documenting rock art sites. Throughout the chapter, we emphasize the importance of being aware of the relationship between data (rock art) and theory (frameworks for approaching or understanding rock art), which inevitably impact on each other. Acknowledging this relationship can and does help create a better understanding of rock art s role in the past and present. Thinking About the Recording Process At first glance, it might seem self-evident that rock art is recorded to obtain the most accurate and objective representation of a site and its motifs. But, as we explore here, there are many factors to consider. Recorders can be deliberately more or less thorough whenever rock art is documented because of time constraints or other factors. For example, researchers can differentiate between baseline or minimum recording standards that emphasize the basic details of a site (e.g., site location, number of motifs, production techniques, damage; e.g., Swartz 2006) and a fuller/more thorough record that can consist of additional details geared towards the particular question(s) that a recorder is interested in, such as detailed investigations of open-air rock art panels (e.g., Darvill 2014) or complex layers of superimposition (e.g., Gunn, Ogleby, Lee, & Whear 2010). Others, such as Bednarik (2007: 59 60), suggest that researchers employ a graded approach to recording sites and motifs. Helskog (2012: 45) builds on these differences in approach by noting that, when recording rock art, Page 2 of 28

4 primary documentation is to describe and identify the figures to make a record that can be used later for some sort of analysis, or as a basis for picking out sites to investigate in more detail. This is the type of database available in most rock art management situations. Given that in many cases it is possible to return to rock art sites and collect missing information, an extensive primary documentation might be unnecessary, but in some cases it is essential. Regardless of the kind of record researchers are hoping to produce, there are many reasons why rock art recording projects are undertaken. Some of the most common ones, which are not mutually exclusive, include: 1. Research: Recording projects can and should form part of problem-oriented research where a well-defined strategy for recording sites and motifs is in place before heading into the field. Given rock art s ability to address a wide range of questions about the past and present, researchers need to tailor their recording strategies and target specific aspects of rock art assemblages in order to gather the required data to answer specific questions. For example, researchers interested in learning more about the spatial patterning of anthropomorphic motifs in a specific landscape may choose a recording strategy that targets specific attributes of anthropomorphs, whereas a study analysing changes in painted subject matter might target panels of motif superimpositions for in-depth recording to determine which subjects were depicted over time. 2. Threatened sites or salvage projects: Where sites are deemed to be under threat because of past, current, or impending damage as a result of natural and/or anthropogenic forces, they are often recorded in as much detail as possible. For example, in the American Southwest, Schaafsma (2013: 23) noted that in the midtwentieth century a large number of projects were initiated by local and state governments to record rock art sites that were to be lost due to dam construction projects along the San Juan/Colorado Rivers. At Portugal s Côa Valley, the discovery of a large number of important Palaeolithic engravings during a dam construction project brought works to a halt when the significance of the engravings was identified. Given the threatened state of the sites, a detailed recording program was designed to fully record the sites and culminated with the creation of the Côa Valley Archaeological Park, the National Rock Art Centre, and the inclusion of the site complex on the UNESCO World Heritage List in 1998 (see, e.g., Baptista 2002; Batarda Fernandes 2007). In cases where sites are completely destroyed, these records are of considerable importance because they are often the sole source of information remaining about the site. 3. Tourism: Where rock art sites are unable to withstand the pressures of heavy visitation, alternatives are sought to provide tourists keen to view the rock art an Page 3 of 28

5 opportunity to see and experience the site and its motifs. Replicas of sites are found in France and Spain, for instance, where famous Upper Palaeolithic caves (e.g., Altamira, Chauvet, and Lascaux) are closed to the public because of conservation concerns and the instability of the sites. As a result, researchers have recorded motifs, cave walls, and other archaeological features in detail and used these records to create highly accurate facsimiles for tourists (e.g., Clottes & Chippindale 1999; Muzquiz & Saura 2002). In other instances, rock art sites and motifs are recorded for the purposes of managing tourism (i.e., to assist with prioritizing sites for public access) and monitoring/evaluating tourism impacts. 4. Requests from Indigenous communities: Indigenous peoples with connections to rock art sites often work together with researchers to help document sites and then use the knowledge captured from such recordings for their own purposes. One notable example comes from the island of Mua in Torres Strait (Australia), where Mualgal elders invited researchers to record a site that was linked to a well-known oral history; the results of the project were then used by elders to help teach younger generations about their cultural history and local Mualgal identity (David et al. 2004). In these cases, Indigenous people may choose to control the project in its entirety and determine what aspects of the site are to be recorded, especially where there are restricted components such as burials nearby (see also the Mirarr Rock Art Project at 5. Requests from local communities: In many parts of the world, traditional connections to rock art no longer exist. However, in some cases, their significance is recognized through their inclusion on national heritage lists and/or inscription on the UNESCO World Heritage List, thereby acquiring new economic, social, and cultural dimensions. For example, in Spain, rock art is currently attracting the interest of local governments and the private sector who are keen to increase cultural tourism in rural areas and through this generate alternative sources of funding. As a result, new collaborative projects involving researchers, local governments, and other stakeholders are seeking ways to balance the interests of science and the public by making rock art sites and the scientific knowledge about them available to broader audiences (Domingo & Bea in 2016). Other Factors in the Recording Process Recording rock art is rarely a straightforward exercise, and there are often many factors, challenges, and unforeseen events that can hamper or cut short even the best-planned recording programme. Page 4 of 28

6 Some of the most common factors to impact recording projects include time of year, site access, and the size of sites. For researchers interested in questions about relationships between rock art sites and astronomical events (e.g., summer and winter solstices), the window of opportunity for recording is obviously restricted to particular times of the year (e.g., Young 1986). In places such as northern Australia, many sites are located in remote settings only accessible in certain seasons when weather conditions allow (e.g., dry season). In addition, the remoteness of some sites and regions often means relying on expensive modes of transport such as boats and helicopters. The sheer size and number of sites in some regions can also influence recording strategies. In Jawoyn country in Arnhem Land, for instance, there are an estimated 10,000 rock art sites (Bruno David, personal communication 2016), and it would be a herculean task to systemically document each site in any more than basic detail by a single recording team or over a relatively short period of time. In such cases, researchers are obliged to select some sites for more detailed recording (based on the aims of the recording programme), while others are recorded in less detail. Beyond considerations of weather, environment, and size of sites are ethical and cultural matters (e.g., Schaafsma 2013). When working with Indigenous communities, researchers need to be aware of and respect cultural sensitivities and adhere to hosts guidelines. Researchers also need to consider how information gleaned from rock art sites is stored and used. In some instances, because of cultural reasons, communities may not wish for certain images (e.g., motifs linked to restricted ceremonies) or their surrounding contexts (e.g., burials) to be recorded. As outsiders, researchers should always communicate clearly how the recorded rock art is to be used and obtain permission before recording. There is a long history of rock art being appropriated and misused worldwide (e.g., McNiven & Russell 2005), and, in this context, Indigenous communities may not want their rock art recorded by outsiders without first knowing the contexts of its use, who will benefit from those recordings, and assessing how the recording will impact their communities (e.g., how new knowledge about sites can be used for community education). How recorders see motifs at a rock art site further highlights challenges inherent to the recording process and the need to consider cultural contexts. When researchers embark on rock art recording, they bring culturally conditioned perspectives to their work. By this we mean that researchers perceive motifs according to their own education and background and by what they expect to see (e.g., a motif that resembles a bird is often classified as a bird in motif lists). Yet, as Carolynne Merrell (2002) points out, by ignoring Indigenous perspectives, researchers may not be capturing all of the relevant information concerning the rock art. Merrell uses her experiences working with Tlingit artist Jonathan Rowan, at Pictograph Cave in southern Alaska, to demonstrate how Tlingit Page 5 of 28

7 perspectives were vital for the accurate documentation of the site s rock art. Rowan explained to Merrell how a conventional two-dimensional perspective was often insufficient to grasp the complexities of motifs. In many cases, images had to be viewed in three dimensions a perspective common to Pacific Northwest Coast cultures (e.g., Boas 1927). Rowan was also able to explain how motifs that Merrell recognized as two separate images were intimately related in oral histories, but also how the integration of natural features on the rock face, such as cracks, fissures, and crystalline calcite, were incorporated in the image (see also. e.g., Bradley, Jones, Nordenborg-Myhre, & Sackett 2002; Hampson 2013; Lewis-Williams & Dowson 1990). In Alaska, Rowan s informed perspective provided valuable cultural context an essential element used to influence and direct the recording. Without this knowledge, the complexities of the Tlingit motifs would probably have been missed. Indeed, using a solely outsider approach is beset with difficulties if one is interested in understanding the meaningfulness of the art to its creators or to the culture of its producers and users. Along with identifying the cultural complexity of the motifs at Pictograph Cave, this example highlights the importance of genuine collaboration in research projects. Wherever possible, working with Indigenous people to record their rock art represents a critical ethical foundation for research and also creates opportunities to learn different aspects of the art than could be deduced from purely formal analyses (Taçon & Chippindale 1998). This, of course, applies only for places for which there are, or recently were, Indigenous communities for the art, site, or region. Beyond the Archaeological Another important point to consider when recording rock art is how sites are classified are they archaeological sites or something else? Whitley (2011: 61) suggests that places with rock art should be considered as archaeological sites that are part of broader archaeological landscapes. By doing so, we acknowledge that a given site not be isolated from its broader spatial context, thus allowing researchers to develop better understandings of the rock art s relationships to other features of the landscape, such as middens, ritual locations, settlements, and so forth. While emphasizing this point, we also stress the need to recognize that rock art sites are not solely of, or in, the archaeological realm. In many Indigenous contexts, for example, rock art sites are not passive signifiers of the past but rather active participants in day-to-day life and are often seen as contemporary expressions and manifestations of Indigenous identity. Recent work into contemporary social dimensions of rock art in the American Southwest and northern Australia has revealed that some motifs are believed to be sentient and multivocal, often embedded in complex networks of kin relations (e.g., Brady, Bradley, & Kearney 2016, this volume; Colwell-Chanthaphonh & Ferguson 2006; Hampson 2015). For example, in Page 6 of 28

8 Yanyuwa country in northern Australia, conversations about rock art revealed that Indigenous understandings of the art were not at all archaeological in nature (in the conventional sense of the word) but rather reflected a relational presence on country one that interacts with the human observer, mediating between country, spirits of the deceased, and the general well-being of nonhuman kin (Brady et al. 2016: 28). Recording Rock Art Sites Although rock art recording has been undertaken for several centuries, there is no acknowledged universal approach and, as we outline here, this is not necessarily a problem. Many researchers have endeavoured to provide standardized methods to rock art recording, with various degrees of success (e.g., Bednarik 2007; Gunn 1995; Hedges 1999; Loendorf 2001; Swartz 2006). Another factor is that rapid developments in digital technology result in the need to frequently re-evaluate recording methods and data. In the following sections, we discuss two central and equally important elements for any rock art recording project: site context and the motifs themselves. In doing so, we emphasize that it is impossible to record everything at a site, and, as noted earlier, recording strategies should be tailored to both the questions being asked of the art or art site and the environment (physical and otherwise) in and around the site. Some of what is described here may not apply to all projects. In addition, while we strive for precision and accuracy in the recording process, we must not forget the simple fact that each researcher chooses what to record; where to set up tripods for photographs; how to situate themselves when sketching, tracing, and the like. In this sense, rock art recording always involves decision-making; hence, it is always selective and no documentation should be considered to be all-inclusive or complete (Helskog 2012: 87). Site Context Perhaps the two most pertinent questions researchers need to consider when documenting site context are how a site is defined and at what spatial scales a site should be recorded. The definition of a rock art site varies substantially between researchers but typically consists of lumpers (grouping all decorated rock surfaces in a specific, but often arbitrary, region into a single site) and splitters (dividing decorated rock surfaces into separate sites, thereby creating a large number of discrete sites) (Chippindale 2004: 103). Regardless of which approach is used, researchers should be able to justify why a particular definition has been used. One example of how rock art sites are defined is Chippindale s (2004: 104) description of Mont Bego s rock art Page 7 of 28

9 (France), where a single extensive site, running over many square kilometres, is divided into sectors and those into zones, within which the figures are recorded in groups on the surfaces of individual rocks (his emphasis). In Western Australia s coastal Pilbara region, on the other hand, where extensive piles of granophyre and gabbro boulders are located on ridges, plateaux, valleys, and slopes, defining a site is equally challenging. Here, researchers must decide if a single engraved boulder (potentially one of many hundreds or even thousands in a given area) or a distinct pile of engraved boulders constitutes a site (Figure 1). What may appear to be individual or isolated rock art sites may actually form part of broader interconnected landscapes. Although it is not possible to record every detail of a site and its environs what most researchers mean when they use the word context many aspects can be documented: Click to view larger Figure 1 Photograph of an engraved macropod located on one of the distinctive and extensive gabbro and granophyre rock piles from Murujuga (northwestern Australia) (photograph by Jamie Hampson). Site location, as established via GPS (including grid coordinates, details of the equipment used, and position of the recording at the site) Aspect of the site and panels: Using a compass; a bearing is taken with the recorder s back to each rock art panel. Measuring, mapping, and constructing three-dimensional models: The range of site types where rock art can be found (e.g., rock shelter, cave, exposed boulder, pavement/platform) means that a measuring and mapping program will need to be tailored to the specific location. For example, at boulder sites, the length, width, and height may each be measured, whereas for rock shelters, depth (perpendicular to dripline), width (parallel to dripline), and height (maximum height from floor to ceiling) may be more appropriate. Plan views and cross-sections (with position of decorated panels and other features shown; e.g., notable cultural materials) will often be drawn on graph paper. Three-dimensional models can also be developed and may Page 8 of 28

10 incorporate details of site plans and cross-sections to better visualize the entire site or specific components. Descriptions of a site and its surrounding environment: This includes identifying geology, prominent natural features, natural and anthropogenic damage to the site and the motifs, and environmental setting. Other considerations may include the potential for acoustic properties in the environment to explore questions of sound reflection (e.g., echoes) in the production of rock art (e.g., Díaz-Andreu & García Benito 2012; Rainbird 2002) and astronomical phenomena such as the visibility of individual stars and constellations to identify relationships between astronomy and rock art (e.g., Norris & Hamacher 2011). Issues of seasonality may also require consideration; for example, recording rock art sites in winter may produce different recordings than in summer, owing to relationships between ice and water (including tides) and the motifs (see Helskog 2012: 92). Other examples of environmental phenomena might include light reflections on rock surfaces (e.g., Allen, O Regan, Fletcher, & Noganosh 2013), whereas phenomenological observations focus attention on how the physicality of the site and its art affects human experience(s) (e.g., Firnhaber 2007). Identification of other cultural materials at the site (e.g., the presence of stone tools, bone fragments, burials) has the potential to contribute insight into relationships between the motifs and the broader functions or uses of a site. Often, researchers focus only on the motifs without considering how the rock art fits into and with other aspects of the archaeological or anthropological record. Yet researchers also need to be aware that the presence of cultural materials at a site containing rock art does not necessarily mean that the images and objects were produced by the same people or at the same time since a given site could have been visited by many people, at different times, and for different purposes. Cultural details about the site: Knowledge about a particular site may come from Indigenous peoples or, in non-indigenous contexts, from members of the public. In Indigenous contexts, these details could concern the function, symbolism, and meaning of the site, both in the past and in the present. In rare instances, researchers may be told details about the original artists. In non-indigenous contexts, information could potentially concern how a site was used in past and recent times (e.g., as a hunter s refuge, a temporary location for sheltering livestock, etc.) or how it is perceived today. The Rock Art Itself Page 9 of 28

11 As with a site s context, there are many ways to record the motifs themselves, with some techniques more suitable than others. Usually, a combination of techniques is preferred. The starting point for most researchers is identifying the production techniques and materials (e.g., painting, stencils, prints, beeswax, engravings, cupules, geoglyphs), as well as other elements that may need recording (e.g., natural stains and shapes or cracks/fissures in the rock that are deemed of significance for the recording of a motif or panel). For example, at Altamira in northern Spain, natural bosses on the ceiling were incorporated into the panel of Palaeolithic polychrome bisons to give each image volume, while natural cracks or fissures in the wall were used to delineate the outlines of animals (Lasheras 2009). It is important to remember that some people may not conceive of the two human-created art and natural marks as different in any way because of cultural ways and worldviews (see the previous Tlingit example). Some researchers also record graffiti, especially because what might be graffiti to one person can be art to another (e.g., Baker 2002; Frederick 2009). Recording Forms When devising recording forms, some researchers follow guidelines set by bodies such as the International Committee for Documentation (CIDOC) and their International Core Data Standard for Archaeological and Architectural Heritage (see Smith in press), while others prefer to base their forms on those used by their home institutions or by fellow researchers. In many cases, individual researchers create their own forms to meet the purposes of their own research questions. An important point to consider is whether or not the data one generates will be compatible with regional, national, or international databases or, at the very least, with the database one intends to use after the recording stage of the project is finished (Smith in press; see also McDonald 2014). Another basic but important question is whether the form one takes into the field is to be in hard copy (usually paper) or digital (for examples, see Bednarik 2007; Boyd 2003; Loendorf 2001). One advantage of digital forms (i.e., using tablets in the field) is that drop-down menus prompt and guide less experienced researchers, whereas paper forms allow for easier note taking and flexibility in noting one s thoughts, including creating all kinds of sketches and annotating them. On a more mundane level, a disadvantage to using tablets is that batteries often run out after a few hours, and bright sunlight usually makes screens difficult to see. The fields in a recording form are potentially infinite, and, again, the fields you select for your form should be determined by the region(s) in which you work and by the types of questions you wish to answer. Fields that are commonly included in recording forms, in no particular order, include: Name of recorder(s), and date and time of the recording session Page 10 of 28

12 Site code (a unique code that relates only to the site in question) Site name (and alternative site names where applicable) Site type (e.g., cave, rock shelter, boulder, platform) Number of decorated panels (sometime called loci) within a site Sketch or photo number (used to link notes to the relevant sketch or photograph) Location (e.g., GPS coordinates, elevation, accessibility and visibility, distance from the top or bottom of a slope, distance from other decorated panels, sites, or prominent geological features) Direction that the decorated panel is facing Height, width, and depth of decorated panel Geological substrate on which the motif is located (e.g., sandstone, granite) Production technique(s) (e.g., painted [brush, finger, stencilled, printed etc.]; engraved [pecked, incised, abraded, scratched etc.]; cupules; beeswax; geoglyph) Number of motifs and subject matter (or motif, or element, or figure), with or without further attributes specified Number and shade of colours used for pigment-based motifs (e.g., red, yellow; monochrome, bichrome, polychrome) Maximum height and width of painting (plus relative depth of engraving, e.g., shallow, medium, deep) Instances of overlays or superimpositions (for a discussion on the use of Harris Matrices to map the sequence of overlay/superimposition for each motif, see e.g., Loubser 1997; Pearce 2010; see also Chapter 18, this volume) Juxtaposition of images, including so-called scenes made up of individual pictorial units (see Dobrez 2011); this field may include information on natural stains, shapes, and cracks/fissures in the rock State of preservation (e.g., good, medium, poor) of the panel and the motifs as well as details concerning threats to the preservation of the site Relative patination of engravings (e.g., using a scale of 1 5, with 1 being heavily patinated and 5 being without patination, appearing fresh) Archaeological remains found on the surface of the site (e.g., lithics, faunal remains, charcoal, shell material, metal) and whether it is known to contain subsurface deposits Other comments (a potentially large field that allows for freehand notes, sketches, etc.) Page 11 of 28

13 Perhaps the most contentious part of recording rock art is deciding which category a motif belongs to. The Archaeological Society of New Mexico s (ASNM) recording manual (Brody et al. 2006: 5) advises researchers to avoid agonizing over categories, but sometimes this is easier said than done especially if there is more than one researcher looking at the motif. Moreover, placing a motif in the incorrect category (e.g., geometric rather than, say, zoomorph), will clearly affect future research. A key consideration in the devising of recording forms and compatible database fields is how easy it will be to transfer data from one category to another in the future if the mistake is spotted or if new information comes to light. The ASNM s recording manual also states that [i]t is the clearly identifiable design elements that are of the most interest. Put doubtful design elements in [the category] Miscellaneous Elements (Brody et al. 2006: 5). However, one has to be cautious with this statement because the most faded elements might be the oldest and therefore potentially the most interesting to researchers exploring, say, chronological change. In addition, the emergence of new digital technologies as a way to recover faded and deteriorated imagery means that these miscellaneous or indeterminate elements can potentially be used to contribute to overall understandings of a site. The notion of style plays an important role in rock art research and should also be considered during recording. Although style is an intensely debated concept in archaeology (for a review, see Domingo Sanz & Fiore 2014), it can be a useful tool when addressing questions on topics such as chronological sequences, spatial patterning, and cultural identities. Style can be loosely defined as a way or manner of doing things (e.g., painting a picture on a rock as a style of graphic depiction), whereby creations are conditioned by social processes. Where the primary unit of analysis is the form of a motif, the design conventions employed by the artist can be considered expressions of style (Brady 2010: 70). On rock art recording forms, style can be documented in relation to the research questions being asked. If, for example, research is concerned with depictions of antelopes, then design conventions such as outlined, infilled, or patterned can be documented; the choice of conventions remains with the researcher who should be informed by his or her research questions (i.e., the reasons for recording in the first place). Additionally, researchers may choose to record whether certain features of an antelope have been omitted or emphasized. Style-based details such as these can sometimes help researchers determine the authorship of a motif. Finally, how should motifs be counted? Should a cluster of six turtle eggs depicted on a rock at Murujuga in Western Australia s Pilbara region be counted as one cluster or as six individual elements? Again, this decision and justification for choosing one method over another needs to be made by the researcher(s) in charge before counting begins (for further details, see Hampson 2015). Page 12 of 28

14 Sketching and Tracing Sketching was the first form of recording used by both professional researchers and amateur enthusiasts (Domingo Sanz 2014; Fritz & Tosello 2007). The technique is often still used today as a first step in recording, complementing other more metrically accurate methods. As with tracing, the advantage of manual drawing is that researchers are forced to look closely at the rock face and its motifs. In order to discern various details, there is often nothing better than the human eye carefully examining the art in the field. Sketches are usually undertaken on graph paper so that it is easier to see the scale by which the recorder has chosen to approach the art and how one motif relates to another. Recording forms also often have one or more sections for small sketches. Tracing, with clutch pencils and drafting film, is especially popular in southern African research projects, but it is essential that anyone who intends to trace rock art is thoroughly trained to avoid accidentally damaging the art. Sometimes researchers choose to trace photographs or slides of panels and motifs rather than the rock art itself to avoid damaging the art and the rock surface. In many parts of the world, in particular France, Spain, and Australia, the physical tracing of art is now usually frowned upon because the contact of the film to the rock wall and the art can lead to damage of the rock surface (including transfer of atoms from the film to the wall, which could then affect elemental analyses of surface materials such as pigments). Before turning to photography, a question that is often left unexplored is whether researchers should record what is there (i.e., visible) on the rock as opposed to what the researcher thought was on the rock or might have been there in the past. In southern Africa, dashed (as opposed to continuous) pencil lines are often used in tracings to show, say, the full outline of an antelope s leg rather than the minute patches and specks of pigment that remain on the rock. While there are some positives to this technique, such as the production of clear tracings and redrawings for publications, it does mean that a researcher, to some extent, is projecting his or her thoughts and ideas onto a panel. We have already shown that all recordings will involve the recorder making decisions about what to document; however, a more useful approach in this instance would be to include a reproduction of the motif as is, alongside but separate from the reconstructed (i.e., dotted) image so that viewers can see both what is best seen today and how those remnant pigments may have formed an originally larger image. The importance here is acknowledging biases rather than pretending they do not exist. Photography and Video Recording Today, the vast majority of researchers documenting rock art use digital cameras for a number of reasons, including fewer restrictions on the number of photographs taken, production of high-resolution imagery, ease of uploading images to databases, and ease Page 13 of 28

15 of stitching photographs together to create panoramas. In some large-scale recording projects in northern Australia (e.g., Wellington Range, Kimberley), tablets with prepopulated recording forms are used in combination with high-resolution in-built cameras that offer the possibility of reducing the need to take bulky, expensive cameras into the field. In other instances, drones and kites are being used to obtain aerial photographs of sites and motifs, a perspective that offers researchers vastly different views to standard photographic approaches (e.g., Mark & Billo 2016; Willis personal communication 2016). While there are many strategies available for researchers to employ in photographing rock art, there are also some basic but important points that assist in ensuring that photographs of motifs are well executed (see also, e.g., McDonald 2014): Click to view larger Figure 2 Photograph of Jududubanji (spirit figure) from Kabarna 3 in Garrwa country, Gulf of Carpentaria region, northern Australia (photograph by Liam M. Brady). Where possible, orient the camera lens at a 90- degree angle to the rock face to minimize distortion. Use a tripod (or unipod) when necessary to avoid camera shake and ensure crisp images; Use polarizing filters when necessary. Position scales carefully and use colour swabs so future calibrations can be easily made. Note that scales should never be stuck to the wall because residues (from sticky tape or blue tack, for example) can critically affect future analysis of rock surfaces (Figure 2). Think carefully about lighting, and try to make sure the light on the panel is uniform (e.g., if necessary, bounce in natural light using a reflector disc or use artificial light obliquely, especially when photographing engravings). If possible, return to the site in various weather conditions, at different times of day, and at different times of year; previously overlooked details might suddenly become clearer (e.g., by returning at night and recording faint engravings with artificial side lights). Page 14 of 28

16 Today, many researchers increasingly use video footage of rock art sites and their environs to accompany photographs and recording forms, especially in collaborative projects with Indigenous groups (e.g., Taçon 2012). Damaging the Record Increasing awareness of the damaging effects some earlier recording strategies have had on rock art has forced researchers to reconsider their methods. Today, it is widely accepted that noninvasive methods must be prioritized when recording rock art. The most common forms of damage that recorders have been known to inflict on rock art include (see e.g., Bednarik 2007; ; Loendorf 2001: for details): Outlining or infilling engravings (and less commonly paintings also) with various substances (e.g., chalk, paint, crayon) Removing turf, moss, insect nests, or other materials that obscure motifs Cleaning the decorated rock face (e.g., with hard implements, scrubbing) Rubbing engraved surfaces with various agents (e.g., wax or graphite) through muslin Making latex casting of engravings Tracing art surfaces with marking pens over tracing films, damaging the rock surface and the art in the process Wetting decorated rock surfaces with water to enhance the art s visibility when photographing This list reveals not only the many ways to damage rock art, but also forces researchers to continually monitor and be aware of their impact(s) on a site and its motifs during recording. However, because several publications in the past mistakenly championed some of these now discredited methods, it is vital that inexperienced rock art recorders seek advice before embarking on a new recording project and read the literature with caution. Computer Enhancement and Digital Modelling A significant development in the history of rock art recording and archaeology more generally has been the advent of the digital age and the widespread use of new Page 15 of 28

17 technologies. In terms of rock art, these new technologies have been used in many ways, including: To acquire more detailed and metrically accurate information about sites and motifs To better facilitate the identification and analysis of imagery To produce digital tracings of both paintings and engravings To assist with the reconstruction of the geometry of motifs To monitor degradation processes To help minimize degradation impacts on motifs and sites during recording The digital revolution began in the early 1980s, when researchers started developing and applying computer enhancement techniques to improve not only the archival life of images captured using conventional film photography, but also the colour quality of images so that faded or deteriorated images could be better seen (for a review, see, e.g., Brady 2006; Brady & Gunn 2012). Following these early developments, new specialized and relatively affordable image processing software began to emerge that allowed researchers to begin experimenting with a range of programs and methods aimed at recovering heavily faded and deteriorated imagery, producing digital tracings of both pigment-based and engraved motifs and tackling questions related to the results that are generated from the enhancement process (e.g., Brady 2006, 2007; David, Brayer, McNiven, & Watchman 2001; Domingo & López-Montalvo 2002; Harman 2005; Vicent, Montero, Rodríguez, Martínez, & Chapa 1996; Villaverde, Martínez, Domingo, López- Montalvo, & García-Robles 2000). Today, continuing innovations in image enhancement techniques have been used to build digital three-dimensional models of sites, while fourdimensional models can now show the development of artworks over time while also acting as important monitors of site degradation (e.g., Domingo, Villaverde, López- Montalvo, Lerma, & Cabrelles et al. 2013; Robin 2015). Page 16 of 28

18 Click to view larger Figure 3 Example of the digital recording, enhancement, and reconstruction process involving a depiction of a Levantine Deer motif from the Carche site (Jalance, Spain) (images prepared by Inés Domingo). potentially involve three phases (Figure 3): Digital photographs in either the visible (frontal light for paintings, oblique light for engravings, micro- and macrophotography) or nonvisible parts of the spectrum (infrared reflectography, multispectral photography, thermography, etc.) represent a foundation for the multitechnical and multistepped digital recording process. A generic outline aimed at obtaining a comprehensive and detailed digital recording of motifs can Digital image preprocessing Digital tracing of the motifs Digital reconstruction of the compositions, panels, and/or geometry of the artwork (whether portable art or a rock art site) Digital image preprocessing is aimed at improving aspects of the original or raw image as captured during photography. Preprocessing typically involves image editing (perspective correction) and/or enhancement, with both steps having the potential to change perceptions and interpretations of the art. Two categories of image enhancement techniques can be identified: conventional (involving tools such as channel mixers, filters, contrast, brightness and saturation, as found in various image software programs such as Adobe Photoshop, Gimp, Multispec, Hypercube, Corel Photo Paint) and advanced (e.g., multispectral image analysis [MIA], principal components analysis [PCA], decorrelation stretch [DStretch], reflectance transformation imaging [RTI]). Each of these programs and their various tools is noninvasive and contributes to enhancing the visual qualities of recorded images and the micro-topography of rock surfaces. In addition, they ease and accelerate the recording process while also improving our capacity to see images and details otherwise invisible to the naked eye. Page 17 of 28

19 Although conventional image enhancement techniques have been employed most frequently since the 1990s, the advanced techniques just listed are increasingly being used to preprocess pigment-based images to identify aspects of highly eroded motifs (e.g., Díaz-Andreu, Brooke, Rainsbury, & Rosser 2006; Rogerio-Candelera, Jurado, Laiz, & Saiz-Jimenez 2011; Vicent et al. 1996) and to help identify superimpositions (Domingo, Carrión, Blanco, & Lerma 2015; Gunn et al. 2010). While some research has recently demonstrated that PCA may produce better results than the popular DStretch technique (see Domingo et al. 2015), PCA also requires skilled operators, which may prolong and increase the costs of the process. On the other hand, DStretch (free plugin for ImageJ) was designed specifically for enhancing pigment art and has partially automatized the decorrelation of images key factors that have led to its rapid growth and use by many rock art recorders (Le Quellec, Duquesnoy, & Defrasne 2015). RTI is also growing in popularity as a pretreatment technique in which the reflectance properties of rock surfaces are used to enhance the perception of shapes. As such, it is especially suitable to facilitate the visualization and analysis of engravings (e.g., Díaz-Guardamino, García, Wheatley, & Rodríguez 2015). Following the preprocessing of images using one or more of the techniques just described, image editors such as Adobe Photoshop or Gimp (along with other drawing software) are used to produce digital tracings of the enhanced motif(s). In this step, colour selection tools (e.g., the magic wand in Adobe Photoshop) are used to capture a motif s colours or shape to better highlight and display the features of the image against a plain or neutral background (Figure 4). Drawing tools (such as the Pen tool in Adobe Photoshop and Adobe Illustrator) can also be used to trace engravings from digital photographs, with the idea being to obtain a clearer representation of each motif to scale. Page 18 of 28

20 Click to view larger Figure 4 Original photograph (top) and digital tracing (bottom) of a Levantine Archer motif from Covatina del Tossalet del Mas de la Rambla site (Vilafranca, Castelló, Spain) (images prepared by Inés Domingo). A third step in the digital recording process is the digital reconstruction of the compositions, panels, and/or the geometry of the images as a way to better analyse motifs in context, obtain textural information, and extract metric data. The most widely used techniques in this area are digital photogrammetry, threedimensional laser scans, or a combination of both (Díaz-Andreu et al. 2006; Domingo et al. 2013; Lerma, Navarro, Cabrelles, & Villaverde 2010; Plisson & Zotkina 2015). The three-dimensional models reproduce the spatial and volumetric characteristics of rock art sites, bringing the viewer to the three-dimensionality of the images and site(s). These models can combine digital photographs with the texture of the rock surface (Figure 5) and the digital tracings, as well as images captured in different time periods (four-dimensional models) to create a high-quality reproduction of a rock art site. Although three- and four-dimensional models are significant developments in digital recording, they require skilled operators and are expensive factors that most likely explain why they have only been utilized at a limited number of sites thus far. However, in the past few years, there has been a proliferation of fully automatic and cost-effective image-based solutions to produce three-dimensional point-clouds or three-dimensional models. These systems use affordable digital cameras and accessible photogrammetric software (e.g., ARC3D Webservice, Photomodeler, Autodesk 123 Catch), and they have been applied to a number of rock art sites (e.g., Chandler, Bryan, & Fryer 2007). While these types of three-dimensional models represent an affordable and quicker alternative to obtain approximations of the shapes of motifs for projects with limited budgets, experts report significant differences in accuracy that should be taken into consideration when planning rock art recording (e.g., Lerma, Navarro, Seguí, & Cabrelles 2014). Page 19 of 28

21 One final point to consider is that while digital technologies provide exceptional opportunities to create records of rock art sites, there are, at times, limiting factors such as cost, the size of files, the required expertise, and so on. However, what the past two decades of rock art recording using digital technology has shown is that despite these challenges, the rapid pace of change means that many of the techniques that may have been out of reach in the past become more accessible to researchers as developers seek to make these technologies available to everyone. These circumstances mean that recorders should make use of these developments whenever and wherever possible, and an ideal way to make this possible is to not try to do everything oneself, but instead to build teams of researchers with skills that complement each other. Click to view larger Figure 5 Left side: textured 3D model with digital tracing ; right side: photorealistic 3D model (images from the project HAR , directed by Inés Domingo; 3D model by GIFLE). Keeping the Record Once rock art is recorded, where and how are records of sites and motifs to be stored? Who should be able to access these records and how? As discussed earlier, researchers and heritage managers have devised numerous system(s) for storing and managing the data they collect, sometimes in conjunction with government bodies and/or Indigenous groups. Two recently successful (yet significantly different) database management projects we highlight here include the Pilbara Rock Art Database (co-managed by the University of Western Australia and the Murujuga Aboriginal Corporation in Western Australia) and the South African Rock Art Digital Archive ( managed by the Rock Art Research Institute at the University of the Witwatersrand). Without login details granted by the Murujuga Aboriginal Corporation, no one is able to view any of the text or images on the Pilbara database. Conversely, at members of the public are free to browse low-resolution data although a password is needed to request copies of high-resolution images. Importantly, unlike many early rock art databases, both the Pilbara and South Page 20 of 28

22 African database systems were established to be flexible, so that advancements in technology would not render them inaccessible or obsolete. It is important to note that, in Indigenous contexts especially, researchers do not automatically have the right to access the databases containing information about those rock art sites; rather, permission is granted (or denied) by those whose heritage is being stored and protected, and such permission should be seen as a privilege rather than a right (because the intellectual and cultural property relating to the art do not belong to the researchers, even if the land does). Much like the call for universal recording methods, a universal database for rock art raises some challenging questions for researchers, most notably how Indigenous rock art is treated, especially when we consider that because of egregious appropriation and abuse of rock art in the past (and into the present), many Indigenous groups want total control over knowledge of rock art sites (especially restricted knowledge) on their traditional lands. As of early 2016 (when this chapter was written), one online universal database has already emerged ( how this database develops over time will be interesting for researchers to monitor and evaluate in regards to its usefulness and acceptance. Conclusion Is it possible (or even desirable) to have international standards for rock art recording? Probably not. There are simply too many different kinds of research and management projects and too many variables that need to be taken into account, starting with the very definition of rock art sites and motifs. In saying that, we do believe that some form of minimum international standards are necessary for research, conservation, and dissemination purposes, and these should include the acquisition of complete and accurate photographic records using digital cameras (if available), noninvasive techniques, scales to provide indications of the size of motifs and sites, and recording of general descriptions of sites, panels, motifs, cultural materials present, environmental settings, and the like. In addition, the need to continuously re-evaluate data as new methods (and indeed theories) are developed means that far too much time and money is spent on attempts to devise international formats only for recording forms and databases to be abandoned by the majority of or even all researchers. In considering the recording process, Helskog (2012: 85) wisely reminds us that It is easy to get trapped in a routine of documenting rock art. Routine is wonderfully repetitious and soothing, and the results are conveniently placed into ready-made slots in a database. But, far too often, researchers do not pay enough attention to the dynamic relationships among the recording process, research, and the storage and retrieval of Page 21 of 28

23 data, let alone on a broad range of ethical considerations. On a more positive note, recording rock art primarily for research purposes can and often does initiate a virtuous circle: research (hopefully) yields answers and also affords a clearer idea of what needs to be recorded (and researched) in the future; or, another way of looking at things, is that the more we understand about the art, the more effective our future recording methods become. References Allen, W. A., O Regan, G., Fletcher, P., & Noganosh, R. (2013). Dibéwagendamowin/ Kārohirohi: Reflections on sacred images on the rocks. In J. Day (Ed.), Making sense of the past: Toward a sensory archaeology (pp ). Carbondale: Southern Illinois Press. Baker, F. (2002). The Red Army graffiti in the Reichstag, Berlin: Politics of rock-art in a contemporary European urban landscape. In G. Nash & C. Chippindale (Eds.), European landscapes of rock-art (pp ). London: Routledge. Baptista, A. M. (2002). The Côa Valley Archaeological Park: An example of heritage protection of the prehistoric rock art in Portugal. In XV Congreso de Estudios Vascos (pp ). Donostia, ESP: Eusko Ikaskuntza. Batarda Fernandes, A. P. (2007). The conservation programme of the Côa Valley Archaeological Park: Philosophy, objectives and action. Conservation and Management of Archaeological Sites, 9(2), Bednarik, R. G. (2007). Rock art science: The scientific study of palaeoart. New Delhi: Aryan Books International. Boas, F. (1927). Primitive art. Oslo, NOR: H. Aschehoug and Co. Boyd, C. E. (2003). Rock art of the Lower Pecos. College Station: Texas A&M University Press. Bradley, R., Jones, A., Nordenborg-Myhre, L., & Sackett, H. (2002). Sailing through stone: Carved ships and the rock face at Revheim, southwest Norway. Norwegian Archaeological Review, 35, Brady, L. M. (2006). Documenting and analysing rock paintings from Torres Strait, NE Australia, with digital photograph and computer image enhancement. Journal of Field Archaeology, 31(4), Page 22 of 28

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28 Rainbird, P. (2002). Making sense of petroglyphs: The sound of rock-art. In B. David & M. Wilson (Eds.), Inscribed landscapes: Marking and making place (pp ). Honolulu: University of Hawai i Press. Robin, G. (Ed.). (2015). Special issue on digital imaging techniques for the study of prehistoric rock art. Digital Applications in Archaeology and Cultural Heritage, 2(2 3), Rogerio-Candelera, M. A., Jurado, V., Laiz, L., & Saiz-Jimenez, C. (2011). Laboratory and in situ assays of digital image analysis based protocols for biodeteriorated rock and mural paintings recording. Journal of Archaeological Science, 38(10), Schaafsma, P. (2013). Images and power: Rock art and ethics. New York: Springer. Smith, B. (in press). Recording rock art. In A. Livingstone, E. Cornelissen, & S. MacEachern (Eds.), African archaeology field manual. Tervuren, BEL: Musee Royale de l Afrique Centrale. Swartz, B. K., Jr. (2006). Minimum standards for the recording rock art, revised. Rock Art Research, 23(2), Taçon, P. S. C. (2012). Presenting rock art through digital film: Recent Australian examples. In B. W. Smith, K. Helskog, & D. Morris (Eds.), Working with rock art: Recording presenting and understanding rock art using Indigenous knowledge (pp ). Johannesburg, ZAF: Wits University Press. Taçon, P. S. C., & Chippindale, C. (1998). An archaeology of rock-art through informed and formal methods. In C. Chippindale & P. S. C. Taçon (Eds.), The archaeology of rockart (pp. 1 10). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Vicent, J. M., Montero, I., Rodríguez, A., Martínez, I., & Chapa, T. (1996). Aplicación de la imagen multispectral al studio y conservación del arte rupestre postpaleolítico. Trabajos de Prehistoria, 53(2), Villaverde, V., Martínez, R., Domingo, I., López-Montalvo, E., & García-Robles, R. (2000). Abric de Vicent: Un Nuevo abrigo con Arte Levantino en Millares (València) y valoración de otros hallazgos en la zona. In Actas do 3rd Congreso de Arqueología Peninsula (Préhistoria recente da Península Ibérica (Vol. IV, pp ). Porto, PRT: ADECAP. Whitley, D. S. (2011). Introduction to rock art research (2nd ed.). Walnut Creek, CA: Left Coast Press. Page 27 of 28

29 Young, M. J. (1986). The interrelationship of rock art and astronomical practice in the American Southwest. Archaeoastronomy, 10, S43 S47. Liam Michael Brady Monash University Jamie Hampson University of Western Australia Ines Domingo Sanz Universitat de Barcelona Page 28 of 28