Case Study #2: When Witch Marks Went Global
- Paul Baker
- 3 days ago
- 6 min read
This is the second in an occasional series of case studies drawn from my professional experiences. The first can also be found on my blog, but this particular story centres on a marketing campaign that, to my surprise, achieved global reach. I hope it serves as an instructive example of how information can be strategically controlled to maximise exposure and impact. The episode took place during my time as Executive Director of Creswell Crags Museum and Archaeological Park —an extraordinary Ice Age site whose rich and layered history deserves far more attention than I can give here (I’ll leave a link at the end for those who wish to explore further).
The Discovery
In October 2018, a group of visitors to the caves at Creswell Crags made an offhand remark that would snowball into something quite unexpected. They pointed out what they recognised as a ‘Witch Mark’ in the main chamber of Church Hole—one of several caves on the site. ‘Witch Marks’ are the colloquial term for apotropaic symbols, from the Greek apotrepein, meaning “to turn away.” Traditionally found on medieval buildings, especially around doorways and windows, these marks were thought to ward off evil.
It was, admittedly, a little embarrassing that none of us had paid much attention to them before. In fairness, our focus had always been on the site’s acclaimed prehistoric occupation and Ice Age Cave Art; none of our experts had expressed much interest in the later historical periods. Despite them being 'hidden in plain sight' those who had noticed the markings had assumed they were Victorian graffiti—curious perhaps, but of little consequence.
However, the sighting caught the imagination of one of our Heritage Facilitators, and the Head of Commercial and Visitor Services. Convinced they’d seen similar marks elsewhere; they began searching in earnest. Their persistence paid off. I was summoned to a cave chamber where, to our astonishment, the walls—and even the ceiling—were densely covered in these mysterious engravings. The scale was remarkable, and the atmosphere distinctly unsettling. Many likened it to the set of a horror film. This was no easy-to-access area either; it lay deep within the cave network and could only be reached by crawling. We estimated the presence of nearly a thousand marks—but had no idea whether that figure was significant.
Reaching Out
We needed expert input, and a recent article by Historic England offered a lead. I remember the phone call vividly. I explained that we’d discovered what we believed to be a substantial number of symbols, though we had no context for what “substantial” meant in this regard. The response was an audible gasp. I was informed that the largest known assemblage in a cave setting, until then, consisted of fewer than fifty marks—in a public cave in the South West of England. We had their attention. From that moment, we had secured a committed partner who we would work closely alongside.
A Strategic Delay
Frustratingly, the discovery coincided with preparation for our closed season. Launching a major media campaign while the site was shut made little sense, so we made the strategic decision to delay the announcement until Easter. I’d had prior experience of timing media releases during my tenure at the Galleries of Justice—where we would often hold back darker stories for Halloween—so I knew how beneficial a tactical delay could be.
The intervening months were spent preparing. Our Head of Commercial and Visitor Services developed a new range of merchandise, while the Learning Team worked on a bespoke public tour. Meanwhile, our Marketing Officer collaborated closely with the Historic England press team on what would become the most expansive campaign any of us had ever undertaken. Full credit to them for orchestrating it so effectively. It was a real team effort.
Interpreting the Marks
During this time, we also sought to better understand the nature of the markings. As mentioned, apotropaic marks are usually found at entrances—designed to stop evil from entering. Ours were located deep inside the cave system. This inversion led to a fascinating interpretation: rather than warding off external forces, these marks may have been meant to trap malevolent spirits inside.
The variety in style suggested they had been carved over a period of up to 300 years, possibly by successive generations. This cumulative effect may have been an attempt to reinforce protection over time—akin to how we update antivirus software today. While the exact dating remains elusive, the use of certain Latin letterforms hints at a late medieval origin. Many of the symbols have religious connotations, though whether the individuals who carved them understood their significance or were simply following tradition is unclear. Academic consultation confirmed the marks’ authenticity and deepened our understanding of their significance.
The Launch
As Easter approached, we issued embargoed press releases. I had a longstanding connection with the presenter of the morning show on BBC Radio Nottingham, and we arranged for a piece to be recorded on site the day before launch—giving them the exclusive. This ensured coverage across every news bulletin that day. At midnight, following Valentine’s Day 2019, the embargo lifted. The story broke: the largest assemblage of 'Witch Marks' ever discovered in the UK had been found at Creswell Crags.
By morning, the site was besieged by media. Outside broadcast vans lined the gorge, each awaiting their turn to descend into the cavern and tell the story. I spent the day within the cave network, giving interview after interview, blissfully unaware of the circus unfolding outside in the gorge. National newspapers, television crews, and photographers were all jockeying for position.
The Scene Behind the Scenes
This might be a good point to describe the space in question. One of the reasons the marks had gone unnoticed for so long was the absence of a cave floor. There was only a narrow, precarious ledge—just wide enough for myself and whichever presenter or journalist was filming—flanked by a sheer drop. Public access was clearly impossible, but our team rose to the challenge and devised a way for visitors to safely view the space. We eventually lit it using rechargeable floodlights and identified additional markings outside the chamber, enabling visitors to see the carvings in the rock up close.
And so, the world’s media took turns balancing on a ledge to film or conduct interviews, each striving to find the perfect angle.
The Aftermath
As the final news crews departed, my team sprang into action. We had anticipated the wave of attention, and everything was ready: new merchandise displayed, signage for the updated tour installed, website refreshed.
The weekend that followed was a triumph. The story had gone truly global. The Associated Press article served as a template for reports across Europe, North and South America, Asia, Australia—even Russia. The Russian press took particular delight in echoing The Guardian’s description of the site as the ‘Gateway to Hell’, alleging the UK’s collusion with the devil. While The Guardian’s phrasing was a colourful nod to the dark void over which the protective marks were carved, we were careful to play down such interpretations. As a respected academic site embedded in a local community, we wanted to emphasise cultural tradition over sensationalism.
As interest began to wane, we released a follow-up press release reflecting on our day in the spotlight and the extent of international coverage. However, it was difficult to sustain the momentum. Despite ongoing efforts to reframe the narrative and promote our new offer, we could not have foreseen the pandemic that, within a year, would close the site entirely. Like much of the sector, we turned our attention to survival.
Lessons Learned
As a case study, the overriding lesson is the importance of controlling the narrative. The heritage sector is rich with remarkable discoveries, but we can—and should—determine when and how these are shared. Had we announced the find immediately, we’d have struggled to develop a meaningful public offer in time. We might also have missed the opportunity to collaborate with Historic England and benefit from their considerable media expertise. Once again, strategic planning proved invaluable.
Another lesson: public attention is notoriously fleeting. Even with the world’s media on your doorstep, there is always a bigger story waiting. Without the disruption of COVID-19, I like to think we could have built on the success of that first year. The initial interest in the new tour also boosted participation in our other programmes, which brought a short-lived but welcome uptick. Unfortunately, Creswell Crags is a mostly outdoor seasonal attraction and that first year wasn’t blessed with the best weather.
Still, I’ve enjoyed revisiting this story and reflecting on the highs and lows. I hope it offers some practical insight for others in the sector—both in what went well and what we might have done differently.
Paul Baker
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