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A statement of identity

By Paul Taçon - posted Monday, 3 April 2006


Few things are more intimate, more personal and more special than our bodies. Each of us expresses this close relationship to our body in unique and varied ways.

For perhaps hundreds of thousands of years, we have decorated, adorned, marked and modified our physical selves in plain, elaborate and outrageous ways. In the process, we have illustrated, reaffirmed and expressed anew what it means to be human.

Humans not only make tools, use language, create “art” and modify landscapes, but also enhance their own natural features in the process of exhibiting who and what they are. Indeed, Homo sapiens can be defined as the creature that continually transforms itself, as well as the world around it.

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When did this obsession with our bodies begin? Why did we paint, clothe, pierce, scar, tattoo, shape and adorn our bodies in the first place? Why not roam the world naked? After all, that is what other creatures do. And how did body art become so varied, take on so many forms and, in some cases, become so time and labour intensive?

First of all, body art knows no bounds other than the human imagination. Body art is about identity, control and communication. It is about status, initiation and rites of passage. It is about sex and being sexy. It is also about obscuring, masking, changing and transforming.

But above all else, body art is about ourselves - who we are, where we have come from, how we feel, where we are going. It is about making statements to both others and ourselves.

In this sense, it can be, literally and figuratively, deeply personal. But it usually also reflects group concerns, societies, nations, and even international trends. As a result, body art gives us a fascinating glimpse into the heart of people and places, revealing cultural norms, hidden secrets and personal tastes, as well as spontaneity, creativity and changing senses of aesthetics.

Body art may have initially been triggered by a very early attraction to bright and colourful objects, as well as a typically human preoccupation with sex. From an evolutionary perspective, this likely occurred some time after humans began to walk on two feet, about 4-6 million years ago.

One of the consequences of upright posture was a change in orientation and shape of the pelvis, with female reproductive organs more hidden. Buttocks became less obvious, and there was a change from the back to the front in terms of sexual signalling and attraction, for both males and females.

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Many anthropologists believe female breasts replaced the buttocks as a sexual lure at this time, and that breast size increased as males mated with females with these increasingly exaggerated features.

At the same time, the penis became larger and more prominent for display, again as a result of mating. Breasts with less hair may have been particularly enticing, perhaps signalling youthfulness and vigour.

It is believed that, increasingly, hairlessness was selected for by both sexes. Bare skin, previously confined to buttocks, became a sexy feature in terms of choosing a mate. But as soon as we became naked, it seems we wanted to cover up, with clothing, paint, objects and all manner of marks.

Walking upright also freed the hands for new possibilities of tool manufacture, communication and the exploration of bodies. It affected the torso, allowing the lungs and diaphragm to make more complex sounds.

English archaeologist Timothy Taylor believes language developed about 1.6 million years ago, with the human ancestor Homo erectus, “and with it the first declarations of love, both sincere and insincere”. He also believes the first clothing was likely to have been invented at this time, perhaps to “conceal or enhance the genital region and therefore extend conscious control over bodily expressions”.

About 1.6 million years ago Homo erectus began dominating the world, harnessing fire, cooking both meat and tubers and making the first hand-axes - stone tools thought to have been used as symbols to attract the opposite sex.

The readiness of Homo erectus to invent and adopt “culture”, along with improved nutrition and the stimulation resulting from conquering new lands, led to a significant increase in brain size and a growing human-like intelligence.

Homo erectus were great voyagers, venturing far out of an original African homeland into north and south-east Asia. Between 800,000 and 900,000 years ago their technology allowed them to cross great expanses of sea successfully, even colonising the island of Flores on Australia’s doorstep.

Throughout this period, and perhaps much earlier, human ancestors were attracted to bright, colourful stone and other unusual natural objects. For instance, the earliest evidence of mined ochre dates to 900,000 years ago.

Some archaeologists believe bright materials were used in sexual and other display, by both sexes from an early era, and that these substances were the subject of competition, negotiation, and even monopolisation. If pigments were used in this way, they were most portable if applied to the body. Indeed, it is quite probable brightly coloured pigments began to be applied to the body soon after hair loss.

Unfortunately, most body art is made of perishable material, such as flesh and bone, and does not preserve well. But about 200,000 years ago, evidence of body art suddenly becomes more apparent in the archaeological record.

Not only was ochre widely used but also perforated pendants were worn. As well, engraved pieces of animal bone with connected double arc and other geometric designs - suggestive of body painting, scarification and tattooing - have been recovered from many sites.

Given that scarring from natural causes or injury probably became frequent with body hair loss, it is quite possible scarification as body art began with Homo erectus, up to 1.6 million years ago when many other cultural practices and innovations were adopted. Tattooing would have begun more recently, as skin became lighter in some regions and as new tools, inks and paints were discovered.

However, the earliest evidence is from relatively recent times. Importantly, some of the earliest mummies and preserved human bodies from South America, Europe, Africa and Asia have tattooing and or purposely made scars. Ötzi, the Iceman of the European Alps, for instance, died about 5,000 years ago. When he was found in 1991 tattoos could still be seen on his legs and along either side of his spine.

Tattooing is, however, something more common to light-skinned peoples; scarification is the equivalent for those with darker skins. But tattoos and scars often serve similar functions, signalling an individual’s social position, status, sexual readiness or availability and degree of initiation or knowledge attainment. They tell both friends and foe how one should be treated, as well as defining for oneself how to act in certain situations.

One of the reasons scarification is primarily practiced by dark-skinned people is that their skin contains keloid, a substance that produces a raised scar. Conversely, light-skinned people have little keloid but have battle, operation or sporting scars, such as European duelling scars, war wounds, scars from animal attacks, and so forth.

Both light- and dark-skinned individuals often proudly display such scars as marks of courage or stories of survival. Perhaps the first purposely made scars were meant to mimic or symbolically express similar aspects of bravery and endurance.

In many ways, tattooing and scarification can sometimes be viewed as opposites that are part of the same process of permanently marking the body with symbolic designs. However, occasionally they are used simultaneously within the same community.

The Maori Moko is an interesting case as it combines facial tattooing with deeply cut scars to produce a truly unique effect. Importantly, Moko also is applied very differently to men and women, men’s designs usually being much more elaborate and extensive, depending on status.

Furthermore, there are status and age differences, with each geometric element having both personal and group meaning. More ancient tattoo and scarification designs from various corners of the globe may have functioned similarly but we will never recover their exact meaning.

In recent times, the main motivations for purposeful scarification are as part of an initiation or ceremony - a status symbol to make one more attractive to the opposite sex or, in parts of northern Australia, to protect against or ward off certain harmful spirits.

But in some societies - especially those with peoples that have light skins - there is an aversion to scars: they are considered “ugly”, especially if on the face or other body parts thought to be key points of “beauty”.

However, among dark-skinned groups, scars on the face, buttocks, back or other body parts may be considered to be especially attractive. Body art expert Julian Robinson has summarised some of the motivations for scarification:

Most forms of tribal scars are made in traditional designs or patterned groups on specific parts of the body as an individual passes through various stages of life - what might be described as written evidence of a person’s “rites of passage” - thus denoting the precise social status of each individual. These patterns are also perceived as symbols of tribal beauty for those able to decipher the messages conveyed, and give a unique sculptured quality to the body, which is widely admired. Cicatrix scar patterns are also widely used - they are a controlled long flat shiny scar formed by carefully cutting the surface of the skin with the design required, easing the wound apart slightly and then inflaming the open cut with ground ash mixed with a little fruit juice or other irritant so that when healed a flat shiny scar forms.

In addition to its symbolic meaning, scarring can also play an important role in preventive medicine not realized by many Western observers: the body builds up its antibodies during the gradual scarring process, so that the mature adult is more able to survive in the harsh conditions of bush life.

A common feature of scarification - and indeed all body art - is that of cultural attitudes and identity. For instance, among certain peoples of the South Pacific and northern Africa tattooing helps distinguish them from their darker skinned neighbours, as well as reflecting cultural experiences or rites of passage.

But many marks on bodies are hidden, reserved for use and display in more private circumstances. For instance, there has long been a concern, fascination, or even preoccupation with modifying both male and female genitals.

It is not something new to paint, tattoo, scar, pierce or modify a penis, clitoris or labia - some Egyptian mummies over 6,000 years old show evidence of genital modification. Today, some men risk setting off metal detectors at airports with sometimes dozens of pieces of metal through penis and scrotum.

Obviously, there is a fine line between pleasure and pain when it comes to self-expression and control. And titillation, machismo and flamboyance all feature when it comes to sex. So it is only natural to expect some of the most richly adorned parts of the body to be the genitals.

Many people wear brightly coloured underwear, at least on occasions, while others feel quite at home in lace, leather or jewel-encrusted cod pieces. Think of the bold statement of identity a pair of white Y-fronts makes!

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Article edited by Allan Sharp.
If you'd like to be a volunteer editor too, click here.

This is the first part of a two-part article and a modified version of an essay first published in 2000 in the Australian Museum exhibition catalogue Body Art (Outback Print, Mosman). The Australian Museum retains copyright but has kindly consented to the republication in this format. See more on body art and the exhibition. Read part two here.



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About the Author

Professor Taçon joined the School of Arts in February 2005. He was previously based at the Australian Museum, Sydney, for 14 years from January 1991. He was Principal Research Scientist in Anthropology from mid-1998 to early 2005 and from 1995 to 2003 he was Head of the Australian Museum’s People and Place Research Centre. He is an anthropologist, archaeologist and photographer who specialised in collaborative research involving creative artists, scientists, Indigenous peoples and other members of the broader community.

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On Line Opinion - My body, my art

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