Thread by @artefactual_KW

OK so I've now read "History of Violence" in the current New Scientist (No 3223, 30 March 2019). Here's my initial response to one specific component of the article, the artwork by Simon Pemberton.
cc @urbanprehisto @LeMoustier @CJFrieman @SueGreaney

First, you can find out more about Simon's fantastic practice at his website simonpemberton.com
He's produced excellent, impactful work for many organisations, like this (thoroughly recommend you click through to this one) simonpemberton.com/portfolio/awar…
Follow him @pemberton_simon

Second, this thread is going to be about aspects of how Simon's illustrations are so effective in the New Scientist article.

This brief visual analysis begins with the placement of New Scientist on the supermarket shelf: next to BBC History magazine which includes a #BrexitHistory article (five times in the historical past that Britain has isolated itself from mainland Europe) and below Private Eye.

Fortunately on the other side of the New Scientists was Mojo, with a cover all about Fleetwood Mac, so it's not all Brexity.

Let's start with the magazine front cover. Other than the word 'conquerors' in the headline subtitle, the text elements relating to the aDNA article could be leading in any number of directions. It's the artwork that tells us where the article will go.

Stonehenge in the distance under fiery skies; muddy bloody fields; and three tall, heavy, armed figures in anonymous, threatening, silhouette looking on at the monument. We are set up for a violent story.

The next artwork is on p29, making the article headline. This illustration is a kind of comic: that is, image and words are placed together, at once combined and offset against each other.

The article title, "History of Violence", overlies the bottom of the image. The image includes Stonehenge, immediately extending the title by suggesting deep history, or prehistory, of violence. This story of violence is made more relate-able because it's today's Stonehenge.

We the observers stand back from the monument; onlookers from, if not afar, at least a generous distance. The article is about prehistory, but it's our prehistory, not too distant that it's hard to imagine connections with the people whose DNA this is about.

A gowned and hooded figure with a staff stands in front of Stonehenge, looking towards the horizon. An Ancient, like a Gandalf looking out from an enclosure towards the armies of Mordor.

On the horizon, a small group of horseriders, one of whom points a staff or spear towards the monument. Stonehenge and its protector, and us, are part of the green and pleasant land of the foreground. The distant riders are gathered under a vivid red-yellow-black sky.

The composition of this image is important in setting up the narrative. We read it from the bottom left up the grassy slope to the lone figure, then back across the horizon to the riders, the along the vivid sky to Stonehenge, and down the strong verticals of the standing stones.

The whole story is set up by that compositional effect, combined with the way that the contrasting colours are associated with the actors in the image. This relates very clearly to the narrative of the article's text.

The third painting is on p32. It's an uncaptioned depiction of violence by invading migrants on the local resident population, as narrated by the article. Same vivid colour palette. Scene: a village of round houses on fire. Blazing red-orange-yellow pulses from the roof lines.

Above, a heavy black pall of smoke fills the sky. The horseriders have turned their backs on the scene, ready to ride off. The composition again has a key role in story-telling. In the foreground, the upward grassy slope of the (peaceful) agriculturalists.

Our eye is lead up to the ravaged settlement, then back across to the horseriders, then up to the black smoke. The smoke fills the image, so far and high as to imply the far-reaching completeness of the incomers' actions.

Meanwhile, we the onlookers see this happening in the middle distance. It's remote-but-not-remote. What a thought - that we are descended from these cruel and rapacious people? How does that make you feel? Is it real to you?

That is, if the substance of the claims made so strongly in the article are true.

When I first saw the cover and title images online yesterday, I noticed that the Stonehenge depicted is today's Stonehenge. It's not a 'complete' Stonehenge as it may have looked c2,500BC, assuming a full lintelled sarsen ring stood in the henge.

That led me to suggest that the Stonehenge represented in the images could be interpreted as standing for today's 'green and pleasant land', and for a heritage perceived as under threat according to contemporary anti-migration rhetoric.

Whilst that reading is still possible, given the dominant rhetoric of the article, I don't believe that's the artist's intent (like I said up-thread, check out this: simonpemberton.com/portfolio/awar…)

What I do think is important to discuss, is the way the artwork places us the onlookers in relation to the story, how it contributes to the rhetoric of the article's dominant narrative line/plot, and its emotional effects. END (because, work. Look forward to twitter chat later).