Animals in Celtic Life and Myth
Miranda Green
I'd heard good things about this one, and after a few quick flicks through, I was sure I wouldn't be disappointed. After reading all the way through, though, I have kind of mixed feelings about it but to be fair I think it's largely to do with the fact that I read it from start to finish - if not in one go, then in one week (or so...).
A friend described the style of writing as "...meaty even though it's dry---sort of like a very thick sandwich on whole-grain bread with no mayo at-tall." I can't disagree with this or come up with anything better to describe it, so there you have it (and I like the imagery). For me it's not so much of a problem, but I can imagine that someone who isn't so used to academic writing might find this book more than a little dry. While I wouldn't say it's a good beginners book, I'd say it's a good intermediate book rather than something for those who are looking a little more advanced. The subject matter isn't particularly esoteric and in spite of the academic style Green's very good at keeping teh big wurdz to a minimum.
There's certainly a lot of meat to the book, but for me the biggest negative is that it's repetitive; I would guess that this is because it's intended towards the sort of audience that's more likely to dip into it than read it from start to finish (so they can write an essay, say), and so from that perspective the repetitiveness helps because it makes having to get through whole chapters or portions of the book less important to read. But after four or five chapters, it really began to grate for me.
With that said, I really liked the content of the book. Green covered quite a few things that I'd been wondering about, particularly a tantalising* comment I read in Barry Cunliffe's The Ancient Celts about the apparent significance of dogs and horses in ritual context. First and foremost Green takes an archaeological look at the evidence available, but she also looks at the literary evidence as well as art in later chapters. This approach keeps things nice and separate, and for the most part allows the reader to draw their own conclusions about the possible significance of any similarities that can be found in art and archaeology compared to the (usually later) literature. Then again, it also helps to contribute to some of the repetition.
The first five chapters deal mainly with the archaeological evidence, separating animals in the context of farming practice, hunting, war and ritual; these divisions, since many of the animals that are dealt with were used in a variety of contexts also contribute to the repetition, but it does make sense when you want to use the book for quick reference. For me, the chapter on ritual usage was most interesting in some respects, but also the most repetitive because of its layout - first addressing the ritual contexts animals are found in (pits, graves enclosures, for example), and then addressing the types of animals found in such contexts (and I realise I'm becoming repetitious with the mentions of the repetition and could try and make out that I'm being clever and ironic, but I'm not, it genuinely became an issue for me...), but it was good to have an idea of the general context of how animals were used and perceived before I got to that chapter.
One thing that was becoming increasingly apparent by this point in the book was Green's reliance on a few specific sites from Britain and Gaul - Danebury, Gournay-sur-Aronde and so on. This isn't Green's fault - there are relatively few sites that have been excavated to any great extent from this period so it's no surprise really - but there wasn't much analysis of how this might affect our view of Celtic society and culture. It's evident that both of these sites, for example, show an unusual concentration of animal bone but the significance of this apparent uniqueness wasn't really delved into much. Neither was the fact that the evidence Green was looking at came from a very wide area (primarily England and Gaul) over quite a significant period of time, and the effect of any evolution in usage or portrayal of such animals might had in our interpretation of the evidence. In later chapters there was very little effort made in trying to reconcile the apparent disconnect between the geography of the archaeology (primarily England and Gaul), and the later literary evidence from Wales and Ireland as well.
The chapters on art, myth and religion gave a welcome change in subject and re-ignited my interest, but while they gave a good overview of the myths and motifs relating to animals found in early Irish and Welsh literature, they were very superficial. Not such a bad thing as far as an introduction goes, perhaps, but in parts there were elements of interpretation I would have mentioned even if I didn't agree with them; the motif of the 'heroes portion' (typically seen as pagan) found in The Tale of Mac Datho's Pig, for example, could equally be interpreted as an Irish rendering or conflation of the idea of the Biblical theme of potluck found in the Bible. I'm no expert on the Bible, but if memory serves Kim McCone explores the idea in more detail. In terms of interpreting such tales it's an important counter-weight argument that should have been considered (if such material was available to Green at the time of writing, that is). Ignoring such a view implies a specific agenda on the author's behalf that tends to undermine some confidence if it was available at the time, or else it makes the material a little dated.
There were a few small points that also dated the book a little, and for me this was most obvious on the chapter concerning Cernunnos, where Green states there's only one inscription to the god known in Gaul. This is what I learned at uni, but a Gaulish expert I know pointed me to three further inscriptions and surely that means a lot more could have been said on the subject had the evidence been available.
All in all you could do a lot worse than reading this book. It's well referenced and well written, and while it does have its problems, I'd still say it's a good book for anyone wanting to go beyond the basics. One final point however - Green's insistence on the idea of there being 'sky gods' and 'solar gods' and so forth requires some reading around. While it was very popular for classically educated scholars to lump gods of any culture under these headings, I consider it misleading and unnecessary to say the least. Gods are much more than labels and to continue with such an approach grates for me. It's a minor point, though, so not necessarily a deal-breaker, but it's something that's found in pretty much all of Green's work.
Saturday, 14 June 2008
Wednesday, 4 June 2008
Archive: A Woman's Words - Joanne Findon
A Woman's Words: Emer and Female Speech in the Ulster Cycle
Joanne Findon
Straight off the bat I'd have to say that this is another one of those books that will only be of interest to a fairly limited audience. While I realise that not every book written for a feminist audience will interest those who are interested in the subject, this is one of those books that automatically gets lumped into that category - you have to read it because it's about women...
But actually, it's quite a refreshing take on the subject. Anyone who's interested in feminism or women's studies in general will probably find a lot to like about this book, and even those like me who have more of a passing interest than a passion, might enjoy it too. For a start, it's one of the few books (from an admittedly very few number of books that I've read on this subject within the specific context of 'Celtic Studies') that focuses on the subject from a feminist point of view that doesn't go on about Teh Evel pay-tree-arky, or indeed Teh Grayt May-tree-arky.
If you've ever read The Book of the Cailleach you'll probably know what I mean, and if I were to compare the two, I'd say this one is a lot more balanced in terms of approach, and over all, is a lot more readable too, though still appealing to a much narrower audience in terms of CR. It's well written, and by and large it's well edited. A lot of the time, academic books like this are written by academics who have the credentials to talk about the subject, but not necessarily the talent to write about it in an engaging way. Here, Findon manages to write in an engaging and knowledgeable style, without feeling the need to resort to using too many unnecessarily big words and clunky sentences to get the point across that yes, the author's brain is in fact the size of New Mexico. Much like my arse (but that's a little off topic).
In addition to the focus on women's studies, the book also takes a literary approach to the material. Findon argues that all too often the myths - including the Ulster Cycle - are analysed in terms of their mythological context; that many of the women found in the tales are evidence of, or representations of (at some remove), pre-Christian goddesses and are analysed only in terms of their mythological, religious/pseudo-religious role. Medb is held as an example here - that once she was considered nothing more than a wanton whore by those who studied the myths, but once her actions were considered in terms of her role (or possible role) as a sovereignty goddess, her actions were justified as being a symptom of her role as facilitator of male sovereignty. This, Findon argues, detracts from the fact that mythological characters are also literary constructs, and as characters within literature, it's becoming increasingly apparent within academic circles that contemporary women (either specific women of the time, or attitudes to women in general) had a large role to play in the portrayal of these women, and specific characters, in the myths in general. I think Findon has a good point here - although she's perhaps a tad optimistic - and as someone who tends to focus on such mythological interpretations of the literature, the book offered a fairly refreshing perspective to me.
At this point, I should probably give an idea of what the book's actually about...
As the title suggests, Findon focuses on the role of Emer within the Ulster Cycle, and to a lesser extent, select women as a whole within the cycle. Findon demonstrates the remarkable coherence of the portrayal of Emer within the cycle, throughout the many tales in which she appears that were no doubt composed and then written and re-written over several centuries. Of all the women in the Ulster Cycle, including Medb (for whom I have a great soft spot), none have a more prominent role than Emer. No other woman speaks as she does, and certainly not as much as she does.
In a nutshell, Findon focuses on what Emer says in the tales, and how she says it, which is less simple and obvious than it might sound. The tales that are focused on are The Wooing of Emer, Bricriu's Feast, The Death of Aife's Only Son, and The Wasting Sickness of Cú Chulainn and all in all it helps to be familiar with the tales that are discussed (and that of the Táin, the main set of stories within the Ulster Cycle) - if only for the fact that you're unlikely to be so interested in a whole book about the finer details of them if you don't really know what they're about.*
One of the book's stronger points is that it helps to give a variety of literary perspectives on what happens in each tale, and thus a better idea of what early medieval Irish society was really like - and how literature like this could have operated in that society when it was told by the skilled storytellers; the points - sometimes satirical, even - that might have been put across.
Findon clearly outlines specific contexts to each tale, like the legal subtext that can be found in many of the tales, as well as the romantic motifs that can be found in others and so on. While on the one hand some of these points are put across in a fairly repetitive manner, which makes for a mild annoyance if you're reading the book from start to finish, it makes it somewhat easier to dip into the book when looking up certain points of interest, or else pick up and put the book down over time.
Over all I'd say it's better to read the book pretty much from start to finish because there's a lot to take in, and that's best done in a fairly continuous take, but if you're very familiar with the material then it's perhaps not so much a must. And while Findon raises many good and even important points, I still feel that getting a broader idea of the tales, from a variety of perspectives, is a must. While Findon doesn't dispute that, it can become a point that's easily lost in the thrust of her arguments, especially since she argues so eloquently. And given that point, I wouldn't say, particularly for those interested in dipping into CR a little deeper, that this book is really the best place to start - look at Celtic Heritage (Rees and Rees) first, and Proinsias MacCana along with the tales themselves and so on, which have a much broader scope.
As I said, this isn't something that's likely to have a broad appeal. I wouldn't count it as one of those 'must have' CR books, but certainly it's one I'd recommend for anyone wanting to broaden their horizons and gain a deeper understanding of Irish mythology and women's roles therein - the Ulster Cycle in particular, of course. Many of the points that Findon makes can surely apply to other women and even goddesses in the literature, but again, they're only pertinent if you're interested in that sort of thing.
Finally, and also in its favour, it has a positive minefield of good books to look up in the bibliography. For me, this is an extra bonus, but again most of them are probably only of limited appeal and are probably best found through a university library. Findon's book itself was easily obtainable through the usual online sources for me, but some of the books she recommends are considerably more expensive.
*Easily found in Thomas Kinsella's The Táin and Jeffrey Gantz's Early Irish Myths and Sagas, in hard copy for example.
Joanne Findon
Straight off the bat I'd have to say that this is another one of those books that will only be of interest to a fairly limited audience. While I realise that not every book written for a feminist audience will interest those who are interested in the subject, this is one of those books that automatically gets lumped into that category - you have to read it because it's about women...
But actually, it's quite a refreshing take on the subject. Anyone who's interested in feminism or women's studies in general will probably find a lot to like about this book, and even those like me who have more of a passing interest than a passion, might enjoy it too. For a start, it's one of the few books (from an admittedly very few number of books that I've read on this subject within the specific context of 'Celtic Studies') that focuses on the subject from a feminist point of view that doesn't go on about Teh Evel pay-tree-arky, or indeed Teh Grayt May-tree-arky.
If you've ever read The Book of the Cailleach you'll probably know what I mean, and if I were to compare the two, I'd say this one is a lot more balanced in terms of approach, and over all, is a lot more readable too, though still appealing to a much narrower audience in terms of CR. It's well written, and by and large it's well edited. A lot of the time, academic books like this are written by academics who have the credentials to talk about the subject, but not necessarily the talent to write about it in an engaging way. Here, Findon manages to write in an engaging and knowledgeable style, without feeling the need to resort to using too many unnecessarily big words and clunky sentences to get the point across that yes, the author's brain is in fact the size of New Mexico. Much like my arse (but that's a little off topic).
In addition to the focus on women's studies, the book also takes a literary approach to the material. Findon argues that all too often the myths - including the Ulster Cycle - are analysed in terms of their mythological context; that many of the women found in the tales are evidence of, or representations of (at some remove), pre-Christian goddesses and are analysed only in terms of their mythological, religious/pseudo-religious role. Medb is held as an example here - that once she was considered nothing more than a wanton whore by those who studied the myths, but once her actions were considered in terms of her role (or possible role) as a sovereignty goddess, her actions were justified as being a symptom of her role as facilitator of male sovereignty. This, Findon argues, detracts from the fact that mythological characters are also literary constructs, and as characters within literature, it's becoming increasingly apparent within academic circles that contemporary women (either specific women of the time, or attitudes to women in general) had a large role to play in the portrayal of these women, and specific characters, in the myths in general. I think Findon has a good point here - although she's perhaps a tad optimistic - and as someone who tends to focus on such mythological interpretations of the literature, the book offered a fairly refreshing perspective to me.
At this point, I should probably give an idea of what the book's actually about...
As the title suggests, Findon focuses on the role of Emer within the Ulster Cycle, and to a lesser extent, select women as a whole within the cycle. Findon demonstrates the remarkable coherence of the portrayal of Emer within the cycle, throughout the many tales in which she appears that were no doubt composed and then written and re-written over several centuries. Of all the women in the Ulster Cycle, including Medb (for whom I have a great soft spot), none have a more prominent role than Emer. No other woman speaks as she does, and certainly not as much as she does.
In a nutshell, Findon focuses on what Emer says in the tales, and how she says it, which is less simple and obvious than it might sound. The tales that are focused on are The Wooing of Emer, Bricriu's Feast, The Death of Aife's Only Son, and The Wasting Sickness of Cú Chulainn and all in all it helps to be familiar with the tales that are discussed (and that of the Táin, the main set of stories within the Ulster Cycle) - if only for the fact that you're unlikely to be so interested in a whole book about the finer details of them if you don't really know what they're about.*
One of the book's stronger points is that it helps to give a variety of literary perspectives on what happens in each tale, and thus a better idea of what early medieval Irish society was really like - and how literature like this could have operated in that society when it was told by the skilled storytellers; the points - sometimes satirical, even - that might have been put across.
Findon clearly outlines specific contexts to each tale, like the legal subtext that can be found in many of the tales, as well as the romantic motifs that can be found in others and so on. While on the one hand some of these points are put across in a fairly repetitive manner, which makes for a mild annoyance if you're reading the book from start to finish, it makes it somewhat easier to dip into the book when looking up certain points of interest, or else pick up and put the book down over time.
Over all I'd say it's better to read the book pretty much from start to finish because there's a lot to take in, and that's best done in a fairly continuous take, but if you're very familiar with the material then it's perhaps not so much a must. And while Findon raises many good and even important points, I still feel that getting a broader idea of the tales, from a variety of perspectives, is a must. While Findon doesn't dispute that, it can become a point that's easily lost in the thrust of her arguments, especially since she argues so eloquently. And given that point, I wouldn't say, particularly for those interested in dipping into CR a little deeper, that this book is really the best place to start - look at Celtic Heritage (Rees and Rees) first, and Proinsias MacCana along with the tales themselves and so on, which have a much broader scope.
As I said, this isn't something that's likely to have a broad appeal. I wouldn't count it as one of those 'must have' CR books, but certainly it's one I'd recommend for anyone wanting to broaden their horizons and gain a deeper understanding of Irish mythology and women's roles therein - the Ulster Cycle in particular, of course. Many of the points that Findon makes can surely apply to other women and even goddesses in the literature, but again, they're only pertinent if you're interested in that sort of thing.
Finally, and also in its favour, it has a positive minefield of good books to look up in the bibliography. For me, this is an extra bonus, but again most of them are probably only of limited appeal and are probably best found through a university library. Findon's book itself was easily obtainable through the usual online sources for me, but some of the books she recommends are considerably more expensive.
*Easily found in Thomas Kinsella's The Táin and Jeffrey Gantz's Early Irish Myths and Sagas, in hard copy for example.
Saturday, 17 May 2008
Archive: Scottish Witchcraft Lore - Alexander Polson
Scottish Witchcraft Lore
Alexander Polson
I was actually looking for Thomas Davidson's Rowan Tree and Red Thread when I was at the library, but it's another one of those books that's gone missing. This one was lurking in the sad and forlorn space where Davidson's book should have been, and after a quick flick and noticing a chapter on charms and countercharms, I decided it was worth a more in-depth look.
It seems I have something of a taste for these old books, because like Napier's book, I actually quite enjoyed this one. It didn't start off too well, with an overview of witchcraft and its history that put it firmly in the Deal with the Devil camp, but then Polson managed to rationlise the complete mismatch of the reports from the witch trials with the example of more modern practices, by simply saying something along the lines of, "They don't do all the dancing on the heath and pacts with the devil anymore, and these days they're not all old and ugly. Some of them still believe they're calling on the devil for their power, but that's just superstition and delusion..." This in itself was quite impressive fuzzy logic at work!
Once he gets into the meat of the book and gets into his stride, it gets much more interesting. He relates an interview he did with a modern witch, and asks her how she got her reputation and the sorts of charms she did. He takes a brief look at how witches in general tend to get their reputations, which is something that intrigued me because in books this old it's not something that is often analysed - usually the belief in witchcraft is dismissed as silly superstition and nothing more is said. Here, Polson gives examples and stories to illustrate his point, but like most of the book there are no references given at all, and this gets frustrating at times (a limited bibliography is given at the end, with all the usual suspects along with some one I hadn't heard of).
Then he goes on to look at some of the more famous witch trials (that generally seemed to involve actual wise women and men, rather than those who were accused out of a personal grudge with little basis in fact), and looks at the types of charms and countercharms that were performed often on a daily basis by people and the wise men and women they went to when all else failed, along with ways of averting or curing the evil eye, and then all the sorts of tricks that witches were supposed to be able to get up to like levitation and making themselves invisible. One thing that was revealing in all this is that no real distinction is made between the everyday practices of the people and wise men and and women that helped protect and prevent against those who performed the 'dark arts'. Occasionally the distinction between 'white' and 'black' magic is made, but implicit in all this is Polson's unstated view that really it's all essentially the same.
A few things that caught my eye were descriptions of the countercharms that were used, which essentially seemed to be the same as the sop seile ('spittle-wisp') but minus the straw, that Campbell describes in The Gaelic Otherworld as being performed around the home or on new cattle, particularly at Bealltuinn and Lunasdal. There was also a tale explaining why juniper was no longer used to help break a case of the evil eye over someone - a girl began ailing and wasting away for no apparent reason, and after doctors could do nothing for her it was decided that the only cause could be a case of evil eye. To remove it, certain customs were observed, and branches of juniper were collected, fresh and green. The house was sealed up as well as possible, and certain incantations were said as the juniper was put to the fire and caused great amounts of smoke to fill the house. In spite of the girl's increasingly laboured breathing, more and more was put on the fire until the girl couldn't breathe at all, and died. Distraught, the father went made and burned the house down with everything in it. Such a cautionary tale meant that the practice gradually died out (even though it's very reminiscent of McNeill's detailing of the water and juniper rite performed at Hogmanay).
It's things like this that I find most useful, and Polson takes care to personalise his examples by illustrating them with tales rather than run through a fairly dry list of 'they did this, this or this to make their cows give milk again..." Better still, it's not just a rehashing of things you'll find elsewhere so for me (from my somewhat admittedly still limited exploration of the subject), it added something new. Sadly, at over £80, it won't be joining my bookshelf on a more permanent basis just yet.
Alexander Polson
I was actually looking for Thomas Davidson's Rowan Tree and Red Thread when I was at the library, but it's another one of those books that's gone missing. This one was lurking in the sad and forlorn space where Davidson's book should have been, and after a quick flick and noticing a chapter on charms and countercharms, I decided it was worth a more in-depth look.
It seems I have something of a taste for these old books, because like Napier's book, I actually quite enjoyed this one. It didn't start off too well, with an overview of witchcraft and its history that put it firmly in the Deal with the Devil camp, but then Polson managed to rationlise the complete mismatch of the reports from the witch trials with the example of more modern practices, by simply saying something along the lines of, "They don't do all the dancing on the heath and pacts with the devil anymore, and these days they're not all old and ugly. Some of them still believe they're calling on the devil for their power, but that's just superstition and delusion..." This in itself was quite impressive fuzzy logic at work!
Once he gets into the meat of the book and gets into his stride, it gets much more interesting. He relates an interview he did with a modern witch, and asks her how she got her reputation and the sorts of charms she did. He takes a brief look at how witches in general tend to get their reputations, which is something that intrigued me because in books this old it's not something that is often analysed - usually the belief in witchcraft is dismissed as silly superstition and nothing more is said. Here, Polson gives examples and stories to illustrate his point, but like most of the book there are no references given at all, and this gets frustrating at times (a limited bibliography is given at the end, with all the usual suspects along with some one I hadn't heard of).
Then he goes on to look at some of the more famous witch trials (that generally seemed to involve actual wise women and men, rather than those who were accused out of a personal grudge with little basis in fact), and looks at the types of charms and countercharms that were performed often on a daily basis by people and the wise men and women they went to when all else failed, along with ways of averting or curing the evil eye, and then all the sorts of tricks that witches were supposed to be able to get up to like levitation and making themselves invisible. One thing that was revealing in all this is that no real distinction is made between the everyday practices of the people and wise men and and women that helped protect and prevent against those who performed the 'dark arts'. Occasionally the distinction between 'white' and 'black' magic is made, but implicit in all this is Polson's unstated view that really it's all essentially the same.
A few things that caught my eye were descriptions of the countercharms that were used, which essentially seemed to be the same as the sop seile ('spittle-wisp') but minus the straw, that Campbell describes in The Gaelic Otherworld as being performed around the home or on new cattle, particularly at Bealltuinn and Lunasdal. There was also a tale explaining why juniper was no longer used to help break a case of the evil eye over someone - a girl began ailing and wasting away for no apparent reason, and after doctors could do nothing for her it was decided that the only cause could be a case of evil eye. To remove it, certain customs were observed, and branches of juniper were collected, fresh and green. The house was sealed up as well as possible, and certain incantations were said as the juniper was put to the fire and caused great amounts of smoke to fill the house. In spite of the girl's increasingly laboured breathing, more and more was put on the fire until the girl couldn't breathe at all, and died. Distraught, the father went made and burned the house down with everything in it. Such a cautionary tale meant that the practice gradually died out (even though it's very reminiscent of McNeill's detailing of the water and juniper rite performed at Hogmanay).
It's things like this that I find most useful, and Polson takes care to personalise his examples by illustrating them with tales rather than run through a fairly dry list of 'they did this, this or this to make their cows give milk again..." Better still, it's not just a rehashing of things you'll find elsewhere so for me (from my somewhat admittedly still limited exploration of the subject), it added something new. Sadly, at over £80, it won't be joining my bookshelf on a more permanent basis just yet.
Friday, 16 May 2008
Archive: Ogam
After several attempts I've finally finished a few sets of ogam staves, and seeing as I'm sure you're all really interested in seeing my efforts, I thought I'd share....
The first set I tried to do sometime last year went missing during the move, Mr Seren probably thinking it was an 'art' project that Tom had been doing. Once we moved I began to think about making another set, and seeing as there was plenty of driftwood to choose from at the beach, I toyed with the idea of collecting some to use for the staves.
I decided to wait for a while and try establishing a relationship with the place first, it didn't feel right just taking the wood, so every time we've gone to the beach I've been leaving offerings and libations and doing a bit of meditation (in between running after Tom to save him from launching himself into the waves). The beach is in a very exposed position and takes the full brunt of winds and storms that come our way, so it had a very desolate, stark feel to it, but now I seem to have worked up some sort of contact with the place it's starting to feel a little more welcoming.
I collected some driftwood about mid-April and let it dry thoroughly before trying to etch the ogam into it with a pyrograph (after practicing on lollipop sticks, seeing as I've never used one before). I chose ones that were similar sizes, and were already nice and smooth so I wouldn't have to bother sanding them down or anything, to keep them nice and 'natural'. The etching was fairly easy to do, and for the first set (which I used at Bealltainn), I used long thin pieces and left them fairly plain, which I hoped would make them good for picking out from the bunch rather than throwing and reading the spread:
The next set I did, I made with shorter sticks - about 4 inches at the most. They didn't look like much so I decided to paint them according to their colour correspondences in Erynn's book:
I just used gouache to paint them, and I'm quite pleased with how they've turned out on the whole. The wood's quite soft which makes pyrographing them quite easy, although I'm sure I can do a better job with a bit of practice. It would be nice to try some with decorative designs, but I think that might be beyond my 'artistic' skills...
I'm starting to think that some of them might need tweaking, colour-wise (I tried a 'bruised' effect for h-uath and it looked good until it dried, for a start - I should have waited until it dried to layer it on), before I varnish them or find a good sealant to make sure the paint doesn't rub off because they seem a little delicate just now. I'll use a matt varnish so they shouldn't look too different from how they do now.
I'm hoping that by using them, I'll be able to develop the more experiential, rather than intellectual, side of my practices. Divination is something I'm quite good at generally (for myself, anyway), so it seems like a good avenue of approach for me to start relying on my more intuitive side. We'll just have to see how it goes.
EDIT: I ended up using beeswax as a sealant, which has been very effective. And smells nice.
The first set I tried to do sometime last year went missing during the move, Mr Seren probably thinking it was an 'art' project that Tom had been doing. Once we moved I began to think about making another set, and seeing as there was plenty of driftwood to choose from at the beach, I toyed with the idea of collecting some to use for the staves.
I decided to wait for a while and try establishing a relationship with the place first, it didn't feel right just taking the wood, so every time we've gone to the beach I've been leaving offerings and libations and doing a bit of meditation (in between running after Tom to save him from launching himself into the waves). The beach is in a very exposed position and takes the full brunt of winds and storms that come our way, so it had a very desolate, stark feel to it, but now I seem to have worked up some sort of contact with the place it's starting to feel a little more welcoming.
I collected some driftwood about mid-April and let it dry thoroughly before trying to etch the ogam into it with a pyrograph (after practicing on lollipop sticks, seeing as I've never used one before). I chose ones that were similar sizes, and were already nice and smooth so I wouldn't have to bother sanding them down or anything, to keep them nice and 'natural'. The etching was fairly easy to do, and for the first set (which I used at Bealltainn), I used long thin pieces and left them fairly plain, which I hoped would make them good for picking out from the bunch rather than throwing and reading the spread:
The next set I did, I made with shorter sticks - about 4 inches at the most. They didn't look like much so I decided to paint them according to their colour correspondences in Erynn's book:
I just used gouache to paint them, and I'm quite pleased with how they've turned out on the whole. The wood's quite soft which makes pyrographing them quite easy, although I'm sure I can do a better job with a bit of practice. It would be nice to try some with decorative designs, but I think that might be beyond my 'artistic' skills...
I'm starting to think that some of them might need tweaking, colour-wise (I tried a 'bruised' effect for h-uath and it looked good until it dried, for a start - I should have waited until it dried to layer it on), before I varnish them or find a good sealant to make sure the paint doesn't rub off because they seem a little delicate just now. I'll use a matt varnish so they shouldn't look too different from how they do now.
I'm hoping that by using them, I'll be able to develop the more experiential, rather than intellectual, side of my practices. Divination is something I'm quite good at generally (for myself, anyway), so it seems like a good avenue of approach for me to start relying on my more intuitive side. We'll just have to see how it goes.
EDIT: I ended up using beeswax as a sealant, which has been very effective. And smells nice.
Thursday, 15 May 2008
Archive: Scottish Placenames...
Scottish Place-Names by WFH Nicolaisen
Celtic Placenames of Scotland by WJ Watson
My wandering brain's been wondering about evidence for deities in Scotland recently, so I decided to pick this one up. I've seen a few authors confidently asserting that Banff takes its name from the Irish deity Banbha, along with Slamannan taking its name from Manannan (sorry, I've yet to figure out the shortcuts to put in the proper accents) and wanted to get to the bottom of it, because these were just casual mentions without anything of substance to back it up. Since I studied onomastics at uni (it's a fancy word for the study of proper names, which probably makes it sound more interesting than it actually is), I had an idea of the books to look at, and I eventually managed to get hold of them.
Watson's book was the first comprehensive look at the subject, way back in the 1930s, and it wasn't until the 70s when Nicolaisen published his book that the subject had anything of substance added to it. It's a very neglected area of study, then, and I have to admit, my enthusiasm for it will never match that of the authors or my lecturer, who's hard at work trying to bring the field into the twenty-first century with some 'exciting' new discoveries. Perhaps if academics were more willing to look into the pre-Christian evidence I'd be a bit more interested, but because it's such an uncertain area of study with very little in the way of hard facts, I suppose it's understandable that most academics won't put their neck on the line.
Anyway...Looking at Watson's book first, I'd say of the two this was the most readable, although considering the fact that both books deal with a very specialised area, I think it's safe to say it will only appeal to people who really want to know about this stuff. Watson confines himself to examining Celtic placename evidence only, so on the one hand I found it more relevant to me, because obviously that's where my interest lies, but on the other hand this means it lacks much in the way of context. Nicolaisen's book examines all the languages that have affected the evolution of placenames in Scotland and to ignore the non-Celtic influences does mean you're only getting half the picture, so to speak.
There's plenty of useful stuff here (which I'll go into later, comparing with Nicolaisen), and the style of writing is a little more accessible. The style of language is perhaps a little antiquated and dated these days, but it's not like having to plough through Shakespeare or Chaucer. Watson also has a tendency to ramble and go off on tangents somewhat, so at times it feels like there are some conclusions and adequate analysis missing from what's being discussed before a different subject is introduced. Being focused on Celtic placenames means it's more comprehensive than Nicolaisen's work, but Nicolaisen does a good job of picking up on the most important points in Watson's work (particularly the example of pit- placenames as evidence of the spread of the Picts) and updating them or even refuting them. This means that it's very difficult to consider either book in isolation, because while I prefer Watson, Nicolaisen provides some important additions.
Nicolaisen' book is still the main text for study in this field, and it's understandable. Unlike Watson's book, Nicolaisen takes a much more critical view of the subject and takes care to introduce the key issues affecting the subject, like language change and how it's affected the changes in placenames which might not be so apparent to those studying it - after all, we only see what gets recorded. It's not just that it's more up to date that makes it a 'better' book in this respect, it's been consciously written for a more modern academic audience, and addresses the needs of that audience. Nicolaisen also goes beyond just listing what the placenames mean like Watson tends to, and explores what implications name elements in particular might have in terms of their spread - such as evidence for the spread of Christianity, cults of saints within the church, and cultural groups, for example. While Watson does this too, it gets lost at time in his tangents.
It's perhaps because of this critical, academic (and dry) approach that I just don't like Nicolaisen's book (that and the fact that the majority of it formed the basis of some of the most boring lectures of my life, so I admit I'm not without bias here) because generally it isn't all that readable. At times Nicolaisen labours the point somewhat, and in the introduction goes into excruciating detail in examining the evolution of the names that Falkirk has had - from the earliest evidence of Egglesbreth to Varia Capella and then Fawkirk to Falkirk, all of which overlap slightly and seemed to have co-existed with later names for a time, and all of which translate as "the speckled church", thus proving that in some places at least, languages didn't just immediately replace old ones but existed side by side with them for some time and people had at least some understanding of both. He then essentially dismisses the importance of the point by saying that Falkirk is a rare example of this, leaving one to wonder why the hell he's just spent a whole chapter banging on about it...
What follows is an overview of the different languages that have shaped the placenames of Scotland, from English, to Scandinavian, to Gaelic, P Celtic (which he defines as Cumbric and Pictish), and the elusive 'pre-Celtic'. It's this last chapter on 'pre-Celtic' names that's the most interesting in terms of what I was looking for, for pre-Christian evidence, but on the whole it's unsatisfactory because Nicolaisen is fairly dismissive of the subject and seems loath to go into any detail about it.
It's Watson who points to the Banff/Banbha connection, and hints at a connection between Slamannan and Manannan (but seems to conclude, inconclusively, that it is in fact related to the Manau tribe and has something to do with a rock), and also mentions examines the meaning of the river Clyde and relates *Clota to a river goddess. Nicolaisen makes no mention of Banff or Slamannan in this context (though he does translate Slamannan as 'hill or moor of the Manau'), but does refute the Clota/river goddess connection: "Clyde is much more likely to have been a primary river-name. We are not denying that there was Celtic river-worship, but it should not be assumed for rivers whose names permit a straightforward 'profane' explanation." Although he has a point - assumptions shouldn't be made, and this is what Watson essentially does in equating the name as a goddess - this is hardly a thorough examination or refutation of the name, and it would be nice to see something that looks at the subject in more depth. Likewise, Watson's examination of other names associated with bodies of water could do with expanding on.
As much as you might notice how much I don't like the book in terms of style, it can't be denied that Nicolaisen's book is an important piece of work and in a sense my bias against it is probably doing it a disservice to some degree. If you're at all interested in linguistics and placenames in general, then both books are an important addition to the shelf, just don't expect to be entertained while you're learning.
Celtic Placenames of Scotland by WJ Watson
My wandering brain's been wondering about evidence for deities in Scotland recently, so I decided to pick this one up. I've seen a few authors confidently asserting that Banff takes its name from the Irish deity Banbha, along with Slamannan taking its name from Manannan (sorry, I've yet to figure out the shortcuts to put in the proper accents) and wanted to get to the bottom of it, because these were just casual mentions without anything of substance to back it up. Since I studied onomastics at uni (it's a fancy word for the study of proper names, which probably makes it sound more interesting than it actually is), I had an idea of the books to look at, and I eventually managed to get hold of them.
Watson's book was the first comprehensive look at the subject, way back in the 1930s, and it wasn't until the 70s when Nicolaisen published his book that the subject had anything of substance added to it. It's a very neglected area of study, then, and I have to admit, my enthusiasm for it will never match that of the authors or my lecturer, who's hard at work trying to bring the field into the twenty-first century with some 'exciting' new discoveries. Perhaps if academics were more willing to look into the pre-Christian evidence I'd be a bit more interested, but because it's such an uncertain area of study with very little in the way of hard facts, I suppose it's understandable that most academics won't put their neck on the line.
Anyway...Looking at Watson's book first, I'd say of the two this was the most readable, although considering the fact that both books deal with a very specialised area, I think it's safe to say it will only appeal to people who really want to know about this stuff. Watson confines himself to examining Celtic placename evidence only, so on the one hand I found it more relevant to me, because obviously that's where my interest lies, but on the other hand this means it lacks much in the way of context. Nicolaisen's book examines all the languages that have affected the evolution of placenames in Scotland and to ignore the non-Celtic influences does mean you're only getting half the picture, so to speak.
There's plenty of useful stuff here (which I'll go into later, comparing with Nicolaisen), and the style of writing is a little more accessible. The style of language is perhaps a little antiquated and dated these days, but it's not like having to plough through Shakespeare or Chaucer. Watson also has a tendency to ramble and go off on tangents somewhat, so at times it feels like there are some conclusions and adequate analysis missing from what's being discussed before a different subject is introduced. Being focused on Celtic placenames means it's more comprehensive than Nicolaisen's work, but Nicolaisen does a good job of picking up on the most important points in Watson's work (particularly the example of pit- placenames as evidence of the spread of the Picts) and updating them or even refuting them. This means that it's very difficult to consider either book in isolation, because while I prefer Watson, Nicolaisen provides some important additions.
Nicolaisen' book is still the main text for study in this field, and it's understandable. Unlike Watson's book, Nicolaisen takes a much more critical view of the subject and takes care to introduce the key issues affecting the subject, like language change and how it's affected the changes in placenames which might not be so apparent to those studying it - after all, we only see what gets recorded. It's not just that it's more up to date that makes it a 'better' book in this respect, it's been consciously written for a more modern academic audience, and addresses the needs of that audience. Nicolaisen also goes beyond just listing what the placenames mean like Watson tends to, and explores what implications name elements in particular might have in terms of their spread - such as evidence for the spread of Christianity, cults of saints within the church, and cultural groups, for example. While Watson does this too, it gets lost at time in his tangents.
It's perhaps because of this critical, academic (and dry) approach that I just don't like Nicolaisen's book (that and the fact that the majority of it formed the basis of some of the most boring lectures of my life, so I admit I'm not without bias here) because generally it isn't all that readable. At times Nicolaisen labours the point somewhat, and in the introduction goes into excruciating detail in examining the evolution of the names that Falkirk has had - from the earliest evidence of Egglesbreth to Varia Capella and then Fawkirk to Falkirk, all of which overlap slightly and seemed to have co-existed with later names for a time, and all of which translate as "the speckled church", thus proving that in some places at least, languages didn't just immediately replace old ones but existed side by side with them for some time and people had at least some understanding of both. He then essentially dismisses the importance of the point by saying that Falkirk is a rare example of this, leaving one to wonder why the hell he's just spent a whole chapter banging on about it...
What follows is an overview of the different languages that have shaped the placenames of Scotland, from English, to Scandinavian, to Gaelic, P Celtic (which he defines as Cumbric and Pictish), and the elusive 'pre-Celtic'. It's this last chapter on 'pre-Celtic' names that's the most interesting in terms of what I was looking for, for pre-Christian evidence, but on the whole it's unsatisfactory because Nicolaisen is fairly dismissive of the subject and seems loath to go into any detail about it.
It's Watson who points to the Banff/Banbha connection, and hints at a connection between Slamannan and Manannan (but seems to conclude, inconclusively, that it is in fact related to the Manau tribe and has something to do with a rock), and also mentions examines the meaning of the river Clyde and relates *Clota to a river goddess. Nicolaisen makes no mention of Banff or Slamannan in this context (though he does translate Slamannan as 'hill or moor of the Manau'), but does refute the Clota/river goddess connection: "Clyde is much more likely to have been a primary river-name. We are not denying that there was Celtic river-worship, but it should not be assumed for rivers whose names permit a straightforward 'profane' explanation." Although he has a point - assumptions shouldn't be made, and this is what Watson essentially does in equating the name as a goddess - this is hardly a thorough examination or refutation of the name, and it would be nice to see something that looks at the subject in more depth. Likewise, Watson's examination of other names associated with bodies of water could do with expanding on.
As much as you might notice how much I don't like the book in terms of style, it can't be denied that Nicolaisen's book is an important piece of work and in a sense my bias against it is probably doing it a disservice to some degree. If you're at all interested in linguistics and placenames in general, then both books are an important addition to the shelf, just don't expect to be entertained while you're learning.
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