And again, should we wash upon, Loch Awe shore …

Vicarious serendipities, perhaps, could have only ever occurred at this location?

It started with a couple of images from 1970. I would encounter them once every few years or so, but they haunted me over several decades. It may not seem like a significant rhythm, too irregular, unpredictable, to have any substance? But like a slow burning ember, which with the slightest breathe of air can briefly flash bright before returning to dormant slumber under ashy coat, the potential to fully ignite remained. Each time I saw the images, it was always like being reminded of something I had forgotten, but couldn’t remember what or why!

Many times before I had driven along the shore road, glimpses of tree covered islands, crannogs and unsettled water, no more than fleeting impressions. And then I found myself, on a hill side overlooking Loch Awe for several weeks. From here the stone husk of Kilchurn Castle provides a vivid reminder of the history of Scotland’s landscapes: a favourite picturesque centerpiece, providing seductive views for quintessential yearnings of Scottishness.

But looking down, with different perspective, hands covered in peat and mud, trying to make sense of the Medieval period from broken fragments, I wondered. Wondered why Beuys responded to the shore side and what motivated him to create such a humble sculptural piece.

It is said that a lump of peat, length of pine branch and copper pipe were discovered by Beuys on these shores. These were combined, crozier like, and placed in a lead vitrine, to become ‘The Loch Awe Piece’. Perhaps it deliberately presences the symbolism of early Christian missionary regalia, tangled with the shepherd’s crook, both of which changed this landscape physically and conceptually.

But what I struggled with was the discovery of the copper pipe. Peat and pine expected, the vedigris tube troubled me, and I didn’t know why. So I resolved, to revisit, to return to the 8th May 1970.

I carried further expectations of the shoreline. Remote(ish), relatively unvisited (a few roadside stopping places are hasty insta-locales), slight and fleeting this should be a place of little trace. And the dirty truth, where water washes, we expect our detritus is tidied away, like some debris removal ecosystem service. And so, I found myself on the shores of Loch Awe, naively surprised at the rubbish. Camping gear residues, fishing tackle tangles, barbecue libations, carbonised outdoor activities, all evidenced from fire pit scatter patterns of objects.

But then there was another range of materials which I doubted anybody would bring camping, broken window handles and tools, more akin to dumping of materials from a house refurbishment. It felt like a forensic archaeology of the anthropocene, almost unnoticed, an aggregation of tiny acts of aggression littered the shoreline.

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

  dav

• 

  dav

Such patterns of behavior have perhaps accelerated since May 1970. With a fifty year period of marketing frenzied consumption, crashing willfully across our shores. So it was now no surprise that, among the broken bits of screw driver, handles and cans, a copper pipe had once been discovered here. No caring crook or inspiring crozier but a length of domestic waste sanitation.

So I gathered and crafted, to bear witness perhaps, to the unintended consequences of our material entanglements. A trophy of our times, hybridized bio-mechanics, as anthropocene assemblage. And when you look in its quartz eyes, do we see death or a feint flicker of hope?

I can’t help wondering, fancifully, is there now a moment on the 8th May 1970, where my faint spectre like figure can be briefly seen, perhaps out of the corner of Beuys eye, purposively scouring the shoreline.

Perhaps decades of glimpses of Beuys accreted, with other moments around the shores of Loch Awe, like some plastiglomerate, which could only have occurred in such anthropocene times. Perhaps in such times we need to find new aesthetics, beyond the picturesque ?

And are there other places you know, where we need to be sensitive to spectres of the future haunting us?

————————————————————————————————————————–

I wonder, why should this matter in times of environmental and climate crises? Perhaps an archaeological sensibility to the anthropocene (its origins, manifestations, asymmetries and more-than-human entanglements) could be important at such times? Could an #AnthropoceneArchaeology #ContemporaryArchaeology which reveals and challenges our assumptions about how and why we consume be a vital component in adaptation and resistance?

On 8th May 1970, Joseph Beuys traveled ‘the Road to Meikle Seggie’ through Argyll, Scotland, with Richard Demarco and Sally Holman. Some good accounts of Beuys work in Scotland can be found in Richard Demarco & Joseph Beuys A Unique Partnership published in 2016 by Luath Press and Joseph Beuys and the Celtic Wor(l)d by Victoria Walters

The two images of Beuys have been created through rephotography at the closest location I could find and merging with the originals held in the Demarco Archive, which can be found in the Argyll Demarco Archive Folder.

All elements of the piece, apart from the pins, were found on the shore of Loch Awe. It was produced for the XR Summerhall 2019 Exhibition and was accompanied by a short performance and discussion about Anthropocene Archaeologies. My thanks to the XR Summerall team for accepting my work, particular thanks to Natalie Taylor, Johnathan Baxter and Felicity White for support. I have also been privileged to work with Clan Gregor and Dalmally Historical Association, and all the wonderful volunteers who participated, in the investigation of a Medieval settlement overlooking Loch Awe and through many years of archaeological excavations in the area have learned a great deal from all those who are so passionate about the heritage and landscapes of Glen Orchy, Glen Strae and Loch Awe side. Such archaeological encounters have also informed the work: And Again, Should We Wash Upon Loch Awe Shore …

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Amulets, Charms & Totems

Some places distinguish themselves,

first glance,

part curve & coastline roll,

nothing more,

still, slow

lift the veil

glimpse deeper,

feel texture, smooth unique forms,

practice geological crafts,

caressed ocean rise & fall

torso twist & turn,

with millennial restlessness,

some settle,

in slumber,

life-form

aggregates,

flocks, herds, names & stories

hover, rest, soar & plunge,

surge in your liminality,

 

flow land & sea

sinuous figure,

washed & soothed,

rise paps,

taste cloud & rain

rest upon her

sanctuary

with gifts returned

dive deep

 

seek

 

 

macabre collections,

 

 

offer chitin charms

share exoskeleton

amulets

upon her flanks,

now she bares

palette pools

 

 

yellows,

browns

&

greens

 

mix & wash

with cumulus brush

cyan coating

maritime hues

in time

we can drown,

 

draw down,

wash & wave

escaping

solar bleached

realities

before

winters

first flurries

with

gentle

poise

discover

new

totems

---

 

The distinctive point, Rubha na Caillich, is a weathered rock outcrop on the coast of the Kintyre peninsula.

To the north, the seascape soon leads to the Corryvreckan (Cauldron of The Plaid) Whirlpool,  where it has been said the Caillich washes her cloth at the end of Autumn and when cleaned becomes the white winter snow covering the land.

To the east, across the Sound of Jura, are the Paps of Jura (Beinn an Òir, Beinn Shiantaidh and Beinn a’ Chaolais)

Immediately, to the south of Rubha na Caillich, is Dun Cragach, where a small community dwelt beside the Caillich figure about 2000 years ago.  I am sure they would have recognised the distinctive form next to them and would in some way have incorporated her presence into their ceremonies and stories of the landscape they inhabited together.

They would have also interacted with the other birds and animals of the landscape, with perhaps different perspectives from today : how they understood, otter (or diving sea birds), who brought sea urchin and crab to eat on her flanks, leaving exoskeleton amulets, would be fascinating to explore further.

Travel south a further kilometer and you reach Carraig nam Bodach but that is another journey together.

 

 

 

Witches Whispers

Despite it remoteness, St Kilda, is globally connected.

Through shared histories, oceans and skies

with flight                                maritime transports                          we congregate

nearly 1 million birds

Northern Gannet, Atlantic Puffin, Northern Fulmar, Manx Shearwater, Storm Petrel, Leach’s Petrel, Kitiwake, Guillemot, Razorbill, Great Skua

summer

at the archipelago

Hirta, Dun, Soay, Boreray.

Remote Life

Collect Bird

Cleit Dry

Yet we wont linger on Hirta but head to the world of Boreray

Through

wave

wind

and wonder

we reach

Stac Lee

look back

Hirta

with anticipation

before crossing

beneath

sea cliffs

thrumming

krok krok krok krok krok krok krok krok

krok krok krok krok krok krok krok krok

krok krok krok krok krok krok krok krok

soaring

sweeping

crucifix

filled

vision

wards

pulse of the world

receeding

further

from

memories

navigate dangerous waters

voices voiceless

witches whispers

kroK kroK kroK kroK kroK kroK kroK kroK kroK kroK kroK kroKk roK kroK kroK kroK

‘a great noise like that made by a gannet,

but much louder when shutting its mouth’

‘A storm rose, and that, together with the size of the bird

and the noise it made led them to think it was a witch.’

‘they were beating it for an hour with two large stones before it was dead’

‘he was the most frightened of all the men, and advised the killing of it.’

‘they killed the bird on the third day after it was caught’

Can we ever leave

the world

 

 

of birds and witches,

now unclear

which is which,

Bird as person,

bird sustains life

person as bird.

 

---

The collection of eggs and hunting of birds provided a significant amount of sustenance to those living on Hirta.  Stone shelters, Cleits, were built and used to air dry the birds for consumption later.  Climbing cliffs and seasonal stays in bothies on the archipelagos other islands and stacks to hunt was part of the strategy for sustaining life.

Stac an Àrmainn is the highest sea stack (196 m) in the UK and is the location of at least two powerful tales.

One tells of the group of three men and eight boys from Hirta who were stranded here in 1728 for 9 months.  Upon returning they were to find that during their absence most of the community had died, all bar 4 adults and 26 children, from small pox.

The second tale, from about 1840, is of the death of what was probably the last Garefowl (Great Auk) in Scotland, when three men allegedly thought it to be a witch, only a few years before the species became extinct.

The quotes above are details of the St Kilda witch account, taken from a letter by Henry Evans, and can be found in:

Harvie-Brown, J A 1888 Vertebrate Fauna of the Outer Hebrides p 158-59.

How faithful the details of the story are can be debated but there was certainly a strong folklore which may have provided a context.  An interesting overview of witches can be found here:

Henderson, L. (2008) Witch-hunting and witch belief in the Gàidhealtachd. In: Goodare, J. and Martin, L. and Miller, J. (eds.) Witchcraft and Belief in Early Modern Scotland. Palgrave historical studies in witchcraft and magic. Palgrave Macmillan, pp. 95-118.

 

and a broader context can be found here:

Campbell, J G 1902 Witchcraft and Second Sight in the Highlands & Islands of Scotland : Tales and Traditions collected entirely from Oral Sources. Glasgow.

Seeing a Great Auk in Scotland in the first half of the 19th century would probably have been a rare occurrence, numbers already depleted, and with the last small colonies on Iceland some distance – so there may have been no familiarity with this species of bird among the men on Stac an Àrmainn.  Whether the killing of the last Great Auk in Scotland as a witch (presumably in a shape shifted form) is true or not, today we are faced with the certainty if we do not do things differently other species will become extinct and St Kilda and the wider world it represents will be poorer for such losses.

How will we explain to future generations, what will undoubtedly seem 170 years in the future as, unjustifiable behaviours which lead to such losses.  Seemingly enlightened, we may not fear witches, but through our behaviours we make our offerings to other gods of consumption and waste.  They may not be so overt but our brutalities can be small, long  and incremental.

Listen for the whispers….

---

I was privileged to journey to St Kilda earlier this year with the wonderful Kilda Cruises a great highly knowledgeable team.

For more details about St Kilda, please visit, the National Trust for Scotland website, the St Kilda website  and the UNESCO St Kilda World Heritage Site

If St Kilda is not possible for you, another option to consider is the journey to Ailsa Craig, some details can be found in another post

Imaginary Island – journey through the south west.

 

Sherds Shards Shorelines

With Holocene sunsets

New materials wash

across

our shores

Continued sedimentation of humanity

Ancient intermingling

salt,

stone,

seaweed,

shell

Cast wide –

a strange catch of sherds

Cast deep –

a strange haul of shards

Fragmentary people

With broken vessels

Cross the line,

tread with care

Tide hides,

washes removes

different ways

Tide Reveals,

recedes deposits

new realities

 

with

plastic in our hands

mould marine disrespects.

 

---

The Sherds and Shards were found in July 2017 on the shoreline of a small cove on the east side of Eilean Na Hearadh (Isle of Harris) in the Na h-Eileanan Siar (Western Isles).   Overlooking the cove is a house, that originates from the late 18th century, the waste from which was probably flung by its residents into the sea for over two hundred years.    The sherds and shards have remained upon the shoreline and have become transformed by tidal rhythms and storms, scoured and smoothed, sharp edges blunted and bright surfaces dulled, all now more rounded and pebble like.

What I found most striking was the high proportion of materials, which were clearly worked through the beach deposits.  Two hundred years of human refuse disposal from one dwelling had transformed the shoreline geo-morphological sediments of the cove.   The pieces of ceramic and glass forming the installation on the shoreline were only collected from the surface of the beach, below the surface are much greater numbers of sherds and shards.

Sherds of ceramic and shards of glass are relatively stable as materials, unlike the floating and volatile plastic containers, nurdles and microbeads, which are now permeating our water and littering our beaches, the chemicals from which are extending through the food chain with building levels of toxicity to all life forms.

We walk upon the sherds and shards of different shorelines now …

 

There Is An Equilibrium Here… ?

Five days and fifty miles I traveled by foot.

Narrating the journey, as a linear movement would be possible, but my experiences were more complex, more entangled, with a range of eruptions and encounters in the changing landscapes which continue to resonate.

Some sense of the journey may be gained, however, through the images below, some of which were incorporated in a joint exhibition held in Caithness, Scotland, in 2016.  Each image, a compound of particular serendipitous conditions, mediated by subsequent selective sensibilities, represents moments of revelation.  Brief entanglements, enchanted, with the rich flows of time and the dynamic inter-relationships between people, other species and landscapes.

The Flow Country, a patch work of Lochs and Lochans, stitched by burns and rivers, often offered views to the distinctive peaks to the south of Morvern, Maidens Pap and Smean.  These peaks guided my journey, topographic beacons, which drew me onward and inwards.

Bird-land encounters were prevalent, when I couldn’t see birds their song was ever present, even at night my sleep was disturbed by their ghostly clicks and calls.  Only once did bird-land go silent, during my last morning heavy rain confined me to the tent, but it was the energetic call of song birds which told me it was time to depart.

Before my journey commenced, I encountered the realities of the avian beach, where angels wings littered the foreshore : stripped of flesh, divorced pairs of wings, perhaps the work of skuas.  Five peewits mobbed a buzzard ; a heron leaving the Strath, frantically avoids being pulled down by gulls, its elongated body bending unnaturally in utter terror desperately dodging the beaks of kindred.

Stooping for water at Allt nam Beist (Burn of the Beast) there is a huge splash nearby.  I quickly turn to see an Osprey breaking from the water, a fish hanging from its feet, it ascends and turns to the south : I did not exist.

The loch is fringed with deposits of sand, beneath which is sealed peat, erosion reveals the stumps of ancient trees.  No arboreal fantasy but revelations of possibilities.  Moments later, fragments of flint, reveal themselves from where these deposits are being gradually worn by the gently lapping waters.  The forms of the worked flints suggest they were left by hunter-gatherers who also rested at this location, perhaps 7000 years ago.  We probably drank from the same burn, in which small fishes still leap to catch flies, and rested at the shores of the same loch : I almost heard the whisper of their voices.

Abandoned farmsteads in the uplands were prevalent, part of a  widely known story of the depopulation (the deliberate removal of people and change of landscapes) of Caithness and Sutherland, and much of Scotland.  Sheep played their unwitting role in this story, introduced by landowners, with landscapes and communities being re-organised in part to accommodate them on the land in the 19th century.  It seemed appropriate to sleep where the sheep had been penned, so for one night my tent nestled within a small sheep fold.

The low red sandstone walls gave some shelter to the wind which whipped along the Lochside.  Then I wondered, it was a very small pen, perhaps too small for sheep.  Earlier inhabitations are also found in the uplands, hut circles perhaps four thousand years old, within which I think I slept.   I wanted to mark my brief dwelling at this spot, cotton grass, evocative of fleece, nestled in the cracks of the walls.

Many of the longhouses (and shielings) have stone boxes built into the walls.  Aumbries perhaps for cool storage of foodstuffs, or safe display of treasured items.  Years later the soil reveals, the signs of former fertility, a flush of nitrogen, often ring such settlements, a sharp reminder of our loss : stinging nettles (Urtica dioica).

Those rich deposits can also be found in buildings which have been abandoned as sheep shelters – hard won ground, hard won places, lives and loves no more… !

Deer-land, dear-land, our-land.  For much of my journey I traveled through deer-land.  At first it was their multiple footprints, along shared tracks, least resistance across ground that you would sink deep in peat and water, still used by estates.  Then I encountered the herd, aggregations of stags and larger groups of does.  They watched, with flick of ear and rise of nose, my every move.  Brief silhouette on skyline, flash of white tail, gone.  A few watched longer, the last small groups of does and hinds, tenderness grazed patiently if I kept a respectful distance.  I continued to follow the deer paths, a different form of route along edge of river and burn, their path cutting more directly across loop and meander, a quicker more confident travel which I learned to trust.   One night I was woken by the grumph and roar of stags, so close it seemed they were next to the tent.

Shelter can be found in these lands, a range of corrugated iron bothies, huts and boat houses.  Often a focus for hunting or fishing they are open to all who respects the spaces provided.  In some cases, a chronology of rubbish suggests it has been 20 years since properly used.  Brown rusted skeletal beds, and broken seats greened with age, a reminder of comfort and company long afforded by such places to those who make the journey.

A tradition of visitation was marked upon the wall of the few I visited, written in pencil, etched in pen and scratched with pen knives, a stratigraphy of dates and names going back to at least the 1930’s.

R Hendry 11th May 1931 Killed Fox Last Night – there is a reality to this landscape, foraged, browsed, managed and changed with time.

My preconceptions of the Flow Country as empty lands was being challenged by the encounters, with the liquid landscape, I could only readily traverse where others had created track and bridge.  Many of the burns were wide and deep enough that a bridge was needed to cross, and if not maintained routes will shut and landscapes become less accessible.  In one case, I balanced precariously, with a full pack, on old railway sleepers which were the only remains of the long gone timber bridge.  Upon which I couldn’t turn back and if I continued was likely to take an early bath.  They bounced and swayed as I slowly edged over, not believing I actually made it to the other side.

Lichen colonises wood-land above peat quenched waters. They lead us to places of contemplation.  The aggregation of the fishers bothy, the curation and discard of meaningful journeys.

Around the huts, slowly sinking into the peat, clinker hulks rotting on the shores of distant lochs.  Small rowing boats, in the main, but evocative of the sea and a wider tradition of boat building.  Rose headed copper rivets, copper nails, plank and cauking, paddles and playful catch.

For a moment, upland water, settles on the hull of the boat.  I drift, carried on the thermals, dip and rise like the cycle of the swifts, and soar in the gyre.

Woodland disappears beneath peat and the hooves of herbivores. I flow, return to the source.

We are riveted to the changes of the foreshore, inescapably we are bound to the cycle.

Imagine if we should be able to see worlds in grains of sand…

—————————————————————————————————————————–

In July 2016 I walked solo from Thurso on the north coast of Caitness south, through farmlands and into the watery interior of the Flow Country. Camping for four nights I arrived five days later in Dunbeath. The walk was my approach to developing content for a joint exhibition, with Ian Giles and Andy Heald, at North Lands.  It resulted in a series of photographic prints, texts and sculptures by me which responded to the encounters.

Thanks to Dunbeath Preservation Trust for kindly providing accommodation at the Old School House in the days before and after the journey.  Many thanks to North Lands for their support and to Andy and Ian for the collaboration and companionship to produce the exhibition There Is An Equilibrium Here…

Patarei – darkness and light

From outside,

summer sun graffiti regeneration,

walls white washed realities,

gives sense of warmth and light.

Brief sun glimpses,

trapped in small world exercise yards,

never escape glare of guards.

So try hiding in the warren of corridors

and mouldering rooms.

So try finding the darkness pierced by light.

Fallen signs of medication and disease.

Treatment of deteriorating conditions.

Traces of nameless and named remained.

Curios,

cabinets,

tidied and arranged

Rooms rummaged,

staged and reworked,

towards artful forgetting

of impositions from above.

Were their ever moments of humour and love?

We linger on,

traces of presences.

We shudder at,

spaces of absence.

We are poised,

semi-ruinous,

threatened by the realities of

forgetting

and

decay. 

——————————————————————————

Patarei was one of the most disorienting and disturbing heritage sites I had visited.  Patarei operated as a prison till 2002 and is described ‘as the most notorious prison in Estonia.’  It was recently shortlist nominated as one of the most threatened heritage sites in Europe and as such I thought this post may be of interest in the context of the Europa Nostra nomination by The Estonian Heritage Society.  The images were taken in August 2011, and I am not sure what state it is currently in, but yet to this day, when I think of the visit to Patarei, it still makes me shudder.  It was not always clear what had been left by prisoners, and to what extent it represented their experiences, or where later interventions of art or looting had modified the rooms and corridors.

I remember being struck by learning that Patarei (in 2011) catered for stag and hen parties (providing drink, food and drink) : with the unwitting bride or groom having to spend some time in a cell during the evening.  A form of entertainment which I was uncomfortable with : yet it was an attempt to ‘generate revenue’, to find a reuse for a heritage site.  Like many heritage sites it faces the challenges of finding new uses but in the current economic climate probably will not find sufficient core funding to keep running without some other revenues.  Finding reuse is perhaps even more challenging with a site which could be described as relating to ‘dark-heritage’.  Difficult and painful places, which we must remember, and through which have to reconcile tensions from the past.

There is a deeper story to Patarei, having been built as a military fortress at the instruction of Russian Czar Nicholas I from 1829 to 1840.  The fortress was then converted into a prison, between 1920 and 2005, and became a powerful symbol of national resistance in Estonia to both the communist and Nazi regimes.

Information on Patarei which strikingly sums up the aspirations for historical transformation and regeneration as:

‘This unique example of finest military engineering and architecture of early 19th century has finally, in the 21st century, changed from a longtime symbol of repressions and evil to a favourite hangout for the residents of the nation’s capital and visitors alike, a multifunctional place to spend one’s leisure time and have fun.’

A real challenge in these times perhaps, but I hope the site is not lost through further decay and neglect. Patarei is a remarkable part of the heritage of Estonia, and importantly it contributes to, and resonates in many ways with, the broader history of Europe which we all share.

More about the Patarei Sea Fortress Europa Nostra shortlisting

Door of Secrets

Hiding in the shadows is a metal studded door.

It is located on the west face of Pittenweem Tolbooth Steeple, Fife.  A building which dates back to the late 16th century and according to Stell (1982) it is one of only 20 tolbooths in Scotland which date to before 1707.

I was drawn to the door due to its old and weathered character but was soon attracted by letters scratched on its surface.

At one point is the date 1829.

Further below is inscribed in the wood:

J BeGole

1854

I am not sure, why these dates have been singled out.  And, if I am reading it correctly, who was J BeGole.  Did they live in Pittenweem?  Or was this a clandestine act of a traveler, perhaps only in the harbour for a matter of hours?

Subsequently, some rapid research, produced a photo on RCAHMS of the Tolbooth, taken in 1882 (at 1 pm) by archaeologist Erskine Beveridge.

Beveridge had been born in Dunfermline in 1851, three years before J BeGole was scratched on the Tolbooth door.

I wonder…

was the name visible to him when he photographed the Tolbooth,

and separated by only 28 years, did it resonate with any meaning to him?

I assume Beveridge would have realised that the door led into the jail cells within the Tolbooth.

If so, he may also have been aware of the stories of those who were locked in the cells in the late 17th and early 18th centuries.  The RCAHMS records make no reference to this, while the Places of Workship record largely focuses on architectural details.

It is only in broader sources that you find out in 1704

Beatrix Lang,

Thomas Brown

and

Janet Cornfoot

were accused of Witchcraft

and subject to torture : behind the Door of Secrets.

I have not had time, yet, to find details of primary sources relating to these stories and their veracity.  However, it is clear that there is a horrific account of what may have happened.  Additionally it appears that in 2012 there was vote in the community as whether to erect a memorial to those accused of witchcraft who had suffered.

As always, knowledge and meaning of the past, is partial and diverse: some know of archaeology, history and heritage, some wish to remember and some wish to forget.

It would be greatly appreciated, if anybody has any further information, or suggestions as to the associations or meanings of the dates and name on the door of secrets dating to the 19th century.

But, perhaps, then the door should now reveal its secrets

and have

B Lang 1704, T Brown 1704 and J Cornfoot 1705

(and all the other names of those who may have suffered inside)

inscribed on it ?

——————————————————————————————————————-

Stell, G 1982 ‘The earliest tolbooths: a preliminary account‘, Proc Soc Antiq Scot 111, 445-453.

And other doors which have cause me to ponder:

Beautiful Door

Time Travel, Through The Bronze Door

Door Way to The Imagination

Borne of Stone

Borne of Stone, between Sky and Water, was what occurred at the site.

The site was one I had long heard tell of.  It had intrigued me,

with accounts of mysterious carved heads on a large stone block on Craigmaddie Muir.

Approaching the site revealed two things.

It is situated in a striking basin which focuses attention on the large rock form and

it is located at a point which allow views across the Clyde Valley to the south.  Yet

is only a few meters away from higher ground to the north which affords views to Ben Lomond and the Highlands beyond.

Yet, these views to the north are obscured, when you are at the site, by the basin of rock it sits within.  Scales of landscape nested at this location giving further potency to the boulders distinctive form.

Moving closer, a proliferation of graffiti becomes apparent. Little triumphs from mortality, names and dates, still clinging from the vagaries of geological time.

As you move around, it reveals the dolmen like arrangement of stones which form an irregular channel running broadly south west to north east.

As far as I can tell, there has been previously identified nine carved heads:

Head A

Head B

Head C

Head D

Heads E and F

Heads G and H

Head I

Each is distinct, with particular morphological characteristics, and each, with wear, chip  and lichen veils upon the rock surface, has signs of antiquity.  As has been noticed before, all the heads (apart from one on the upper face of the upper stone Head I) are executed on the easterly portions of the rocks.  The western ends of the stones are unembellished, headless.

This pattern suggests there was a deeper understanding about where on the rocks it was appropriate to carve these heads and as such they may have been composed or understood collectively in some way.  Together they give a sense of a pantheon of individuals, each perhaps with a unique name or association in the past.  For example, it was suggested by Alcock (1977) that Head A has a horn extending from its right side, and another may have existed on its left but is missing due to breakage. As such, he suggests that Head A could represent Cernunnos.

Closer scrutiny reveals three other possible carved heads.

One (Head K) is located on the upper eastern part of the south facing stone.   It watches over you as you climb up to the top stone to visit head I.  Using a series of distinct stone cut steps (which are well worn suggesting some age) you ascend.

When you reach the top the highland views to the North are again revealed.

Watching this ascent, to the land of northern skies, is another visage (Head K), nestling amongst other incised lines.

It has a distinctive mouth, cheeks appear to bulge, eyes half shut, almost smiling or grimacing at those who ascend.  Other lines above could be representations of horns or hair : but perhaps could be other earlier forms of lettering.

Head K

Another head (J) is closer towards the ground and retains a focus on the eastern end of the rocks.  Head J is located as you enter the space between the rocks, lower towards the ground at the corner between two rock faces.  It is worn, but has a pronounced nose, possible mouth, eyes and brow ridges distinguishable.

Head J

The third possible head (Head L) is within the rock passage.  The rock has been prepared to create a rectangular plaque upon which is Head L.  Rather it is more of a torso, which may also have decoration running from the neck across the chest.  Similar in form to the figure on the top (Head I), side on with marked profile, and with a variety of symbols incised to its right.  It like the figure on top (Head I) faces to the south west,  perhaps evoking distant lands.

Head L

Discovery of these three possible additional heads support the trend in overall distribution being focused at one end, and perhaps emphasises the potential significance which movement through the stones may have had.  Travelling from the north-east (from a pantheon of deities) to the south-west could have been deeply symbolic and perhaps restricted to certain people or at certain times of the year.

Who knew of this site two thousand years ago, who was allowed access to it, who was allowed to carve on it, who was allowed to pass through stone, or ascend to the sky?

Whoever, two thousand years later, there is still a reality encapsulated in our bodies, some shared (albeit diverse) frames of reference…

The passage is narrow and awkward, pitching the body at odd angles..

Distorted, you edge towards the light…

Arriving at the mouth, awaiting to be spewn out.  In disorientation…

…I realised, as I splashed out into the sunlight, that below the rock passage was standing water.  I had travelled through rock and over water.

Borne of Stone, between Sky and Water, was what occurred at the site.

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Leslie Alcock wrote about the site in 1977, traditionally called Auld Wives’ Lifts.

There is a slightly uncertain tone to his writing, perhaps from finding himself sandwiched between Ure’s accounts of Druids and a nagging doubt as to whether these were relatively modern embellishments he was publishing about.  He concluded however ‘Whatever is thought of these arguments, one conclusion seems inescapable: that the faces on the Lifts deserve more of archaeologists than to be overlooked or dismissed out of hand.’

There is no doubt, to my mind, that this site has had significance in the later prehistoric and / or early historic period, potentially a location of cult and ceremony.  It certainly has some resonance with sites such as Dunadd where rituals of place and kingship may have been undertaken in the early historic period which incorporated other forms of carving.

Indeed, the close proximity of Auld Wives Lifts to earlier ceremonial monuments has long been recognised, with a Neolithic chambered long cairn only 500 metres to the east.   At that location, a similar inter-relationship with landscapes to the north and south is also experienced.  Also with the chambers in the cairn, people in the past would also have experienced travelling from light to dark and being returned to the light again.  We know from sites elsewhere that people in the later prehistoric and early historic periods revisted and reused Neolithic and Bronze Age ceremonial sites.  It is possible then that how Auld Wives Lifts was understood and was used two thousand years ago made reference to earlier sites and rites.

Alcock, L 1977 ‘The Auld Wives’ Lifts’, Antiquity 51, 117-23.

Ure, D 1783 The History of Rutherglen and East-Kilbride; Published With a View to Promote the Study of Antiquity and Natural History.

Further information can be found at RCAHMS Canmore.

If you are going to visit the site, please do not touch or modify the carvings, they may have been there for 2000 years.

Past Inspired Sculpture 5

– stand upon
this footprint made for everyone

The Stones of Scotland was created in 2000 to celebrate / commemorate the Scottish Parliament being re-established but also attempted to mark its spirit.

It is a potent sculptural piece by artist George Wylie, which is redolent with Scotland’s past and full of hopes for its future.

Stone and steel rung around a solitary Scots pine: young and fragile in the urban realities of the modern era.

Thirty two stones were gathered into the circle, drawing on the geological diversity of the country.  Many show signs of quarrying, and working, seemingly in different states of finish, presencing the industry and craft which has contributed to the heritage and character of Scotland.

From East Ayrshire, a fossil pocked surface of old red sandstone, splits visible celebrating the quarrying, the mining, the sculptural versatility of a material.  Evoking tenements within which many generations of families have lived within.

From Aberdeenshire, the polished granite, cool, smooth but hard won, reliable.

These fragments of Scotland’s regions, drawn together, like the words of verse, are bound by the lines from poet Hugh MacDiarmid: a celebration of our differences which we share.

And also in the centre of the circle, is a stone with a foot print carved on it.  Evoking the sites and ceremonies of the early Historic period of Scotland.

The words before it  ‘…whose the tread that fits this mark?’

come from a poem ‘Incantation‘ by Tessa Ransford.

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Ten years later from when the above photos were taken, I revisited the piece in the fading twilight of a winters day.

Most visibly marking the changes of the past ten years

was the solitary Scots pine

Taller, fuller, I was pleased to see it had grown and matured since I last visited.

In another ten years, I will visit again.

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The foot print in stone can be paralleled most strikingly at Dunadd, in Kilmartin. The seat of the Dalriadic Scots, it is said the ceremony to crown their kings required the individual to place their bare foot on the rock: a real connection to land.  The depth of the footprint sculpture is a powerful device suggesting, with the slight wear on the rock this single act would have, to all those who took part a long time depth to the ceremony, and deep connection to the land.

For more examples of Past Inspired Sculptures:

Past Inspired Sculpture 1

Past Inspired Sculpture 2

Past Inspired Sculpture 3

Past Inspired Sculpture 4

Memory Sculpture

There Was No Need Of Celtic Cross

Or Sculptors Art for Me

To Wake Membrance of the Past

Or Turn My Thoughts To Thee…

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The text above is from Priscilla McLaren for her husband Duncan McLaren upon the memorial overlooking Loch Awe.  The memorial sits at the mouth of Inverstrae, upon the footings of a longhouse, where he stayed for two years when a boy: ‘He was born poor, and never forgot or strove to conceal the fact’ (Mackie 1888 v1, 8).

Priscilla McLaren was founder of the Scottish division of the National Society for Women’s Suffrage.  Duncan McLaren was a liberal reformer who was elected Lord Provost of Edinburgh and then served as MP for Edinburgh.   Further details of Priscilla McLaren (1815 – 1906) and Duncan McLaren (1800-1886) can be found via archives hub.  The engraving of the McLaren monument is from the 1888 ‘The Life and Work of Duncan McLaren’ by John Beveridge Mackie, which can be found at Archive Org.

The McLaren monument is an exquisite piece of sculpture but is clearly deteriorating with conservation management issues.  It was produced by Mitchell Wilson architects of Edinburgh and made by W Beveridge, Sculptor, Edinburgh, probably at a workshop on Dalry Road just before 1900.

Sawney Bean – coffin carrier

Sawney Bean, the legendary Scottish cannibal, who is said to have lived in a cave on the Ayrshire coast with his family in the late 15th century: preying on over 1000 passing travelers.  Artist Adam McEwen’s ‘Sawney Bean’ exhibition at The Modern Institute playfully explores the mythology, materiality and geography of ‘Sawney Bean’ as mediated through personal biography.  Most striking perhaps is the poignant representation in graphite of a wooden coffin carrier found in a family barn on the Ayrshire coast.