Before the letter, the line

How one archaeologist is using ancient materials, experimental methods and public workshops to keep prehistoric rock art alive

On a recent afternoon in Fort Kochi, a small group of artists and enthusiasts gathered at an open stretch by the water, where the backwaters slip quietly into the sea. Over the next few hours, the present steadily receded. In its place emerged echoes of distant pasts, as the group recreated rock art inspired by the Bhimbetka Rock Shelters and the Edakkal Caves.

Immersed in centuries-old visual languages, they studied pictographs and petroglyphs, tracing their meanings and relevance. Soon, attention shifted from reading these images to understanding how they were made.

The participants began working with raw materials, retracing the processes of prehistoric artists. They crushed laterite stones into powder and ground charcoal into pigment. Without brushes, they relied on bare hands and twigs to etch and spread colour. The process unfolded slowly, each gesture deliberate and tactile.

In adopting these techniques, the group was not simply recreating images; they were engaging with an entire way of thinking. What they sought to recover was not just form, but process: A visual language that predates paper, canvas, and even script.

At the centre of this exercise was Mobeersha K M—artist and archaeologist. The workshop, like many he curates, rests on a simple but demanding premise: To understand the past, one must attempt to make it.

“I focus on experimental archaeology,” says the 32-year-old, who works with the Kerala Council for Historical Research. “When we find an object during excavation, we try to recreate it using the same raw materials and techniques. Only then can we understand how it was made, how long it took, and how it might have been used.”

As he speaks, he moves through the workshop, pausing to observe participants testing textures and refining their pigments.

Experimental archaeology involves reconstructing ancient tools, technologies and practices using only materials available at the time. “If a tool is a million years old, the raw material is likely quartzite,” he explains. “We recreate it not just to see what it looked like, but to understand the time, skill, and choices involved—and what it tells us about the person who made it.”

Mobeersha has been using this approach in workshops across the country, many of them designed for school and university students. One of his recent sessions was held at Aarvam experiential learning centre in Tiruchy, Tamil Nadu, where students interpret rock art and recreate paintings through hands-on practice. “They don’t just study images; they engage with them,” he says. “Studying rock art is also about understanding the evolution of letters.” He began developing this approach in 2018.

His interest in rock art often deepens during fieldwork. “Whenever I visit an excavation site, I find myself drawn to rock art,” he says. “I try to understand the methods used and how these images communicate. This is where all art forms originate.”

A key aim of his work is to make archaeology more accessible. “One of the major limitations of archaeology is that it remains distant from the public,” he says. “Unlike other disciplines, we lack dedicated laboratories for experimentation. I use experimental archaeology as a way to connect people directly with the past.”

Beyond workshops, Mobeersha is also focused on preservation. He is currently documenting rock art from excavation sites across Kerala to build a digital archive. The project includes risk and vulnerability assessments, as many of these sites are fragile and prone to damage from both natural causes and human activity.

“Identifying these risks is the first step towards preservation,” he says. “A digital archive will also make these works accessible, especially since many sites, particularly those inside forests, are difficult to reach.”