I had the very real privilege of presenting a paper at The Lithic Gathering organised by the wonderful Scholars of the Stones research group on Friday May 16.
There was a truly inspiring range of multidisciplinary responses, covering ritualistic practices, sensory investigation through sound, film and haptic interpretation, the reframing of narratives surrounding sacred stone structures, and artistic and aesthetic reframing through storytelling and architecture.
Drawing on work in post-processual and cognitive archaeology, my own paper – ’This is Our Place: Narrative and Interpretation at the Callanish Standing Stones’ explored the different narratives and interpretations surrounding the complex at Calanais on Lewis in the Outer Hebrides, suggesting that the monuments are a product of cosmological modelling as well as local identity.
A symposium is always a temporary community bringing different scholars and practitioners together through shared themes, but this felt like something broader and deeper – a day as much about time and connection and empathy as it was about stone. It was great to feel among friends and to play a small part in such a thought provoking day.
The Lithic Gathering is part of The Stones Project at Manchester Metropolitan Univeristy’s School of Gothic Studies and is led by Dr Fiona Barber with Drs Beccy Kennedy-Shtyk, Hannah Singleton and Martha Lineham.
Shifting Temporalities and Mythologies of Ritual Stone Structures
Anyone vaguely familiar with my writing and work will have correctly guessed that I have more than a passing interest in stone circles, and more widely, our ancient sacred connections to the landscape. So, it might come as no surprise to learn that I’m more than a little excited to be presenting at the upcoming Lithic Gathering Symposium at Manchester Metropolitan University next month.
The symposium is organised by The Stones Project, part of MMU’s Visual Culture research group. The research collective examines how ‘we represent and experience ancient and modern British and Irish standing stones and ritual stone structures in their contemporary contexts, through a sensory and embodied research approach.’
The symposium gathers scholars and artists responding to standing stones in various ways, with presentations that explore how ‘these structures – and/or the materiality of the stone/the lithic itself – merges, redefines or shifts historical and mythological narratives in relation to their manifestations within global visual cultures and artistic practices.’
(The Stones Project, 2025)
My own presentation is based around a paper stemming from my PhD by practice research and an extended visit to Lewis in 2022.
‘This is Our Place: Narrative and Interpretation at the Callanish Standing Stones’ explores the various competing narratives and interpretations that surround the stones, touching on archaeology, folklore, literature and mythology. It argues that the stones represent a model of cosmological belief as well as a symbol of local identity, highlighting the relationships between the monument, the lunar standstill, the surrounding landscape and the use and significance of quartz in the monument’s design.
Tickets for the event, and a full programme of speakers and presentations can be found at the eventbrite link below:
Half-forgotten standing stones, abandoned farm houses, early blossom, late daffodils – trees that always transport me to elsewheres.
All way-markers of the passage of time and the signatures of place.
It always gently surprises me how much walking connects me to place – the sense of time and connection to those that have gone before us – and to other places through memory and imagination.
I’ve been walking this area for years, now, but it still rewards me. As I walk, I remake the path and the path, in turn, remakes me, directing my movements through the landscape, shaping the way I experience it and reaffirming where and who I am.
To reach any destination, we must first place ourselves in an imagined future. To go somewhere we have already been, we place the self in both an imagined future and the reconstructed past. We experience the past, the present and the future simultaneously, creatures bound by time but able to traverse its different states, merging the self of the past, the present and the future in a continuous state of reinvention and renewal. In this way, wayfaring is a collaboration, an act of co-creation between the wayfarer and the way.
Pleasing, then, to see the signs of spring, the decay and the new life – the little changes we can witness in a landscape – and to feel truly grateful to be here, anchored by the things that give me my place in the world.
As the western calendar year comes to a close, it’s a natural time to look back and reflect on the previous twelve months. It’s been a significant year for me on a personal level. I turned fifty early in the second quarter of 2023 – a significant event for anybody – and I successfully defended my PhD thesis early in November, which marked the culmination of a long process of research, writing and reflection that helped answer questions that have occupied my thoughts for many years: questions of place, of identity, of how the landscape shapes our lives.
I have been able to explore these questions both creatively and academically, and the submission and accession of my thesis – comprised of a book-length work of creative nonfiction alongside a critical commentary – closes a significant period in my life whilst opening up another. The time spent working toward the PhD signifies a period of deep change and transition: from a former life as a helicopter pilot largely servicing the offshore oil and gas industry toward a new life that places my feet firmly on the ground, encompassing and embracing community and working in a way that is less certain but offers more freedom and is more in line with my values and the aspirations I have now.
This year has been one where I’ve seen hard work begin to pay off and a future direction begin to take shape, replacing the uncertainty that came with the end of a career and dominated my life as I embarked on doctoral study in the midst of a pandemic. It is a year that leaves me feeling hopeful and positive as I go forward, despite all the world-changing events that this same period has also been witness to.
As a writer, I have seen some of my writing find a home with Stravaig, Hinterlandnonfictionmagazine and, this coming spring, one of the chapters from my PhD will be published in Archipelago, a literary journal I have long admired. I’m pleased that my approach to questions of place will also feature in an anthology of academic writing through the University of Eichstätt-Ingolstadt’s Practicing PlaceCentre, due for publication in 2024. I was also very happy to have had writing published in the PaperboatsZine, for which I took part in a launchevent at the University of Stirling.
Beyond my own writing, in September I ran an outdoorcreativewriting workshop, helping people engage with their surroundings and fostering a sense of togetherness. Earlier in the year I became involved with the charity OpenBook, running a pilot creative writing group over the spring and summer that has become an established, monthly group as part of Open Book’s Scotland-wide Community Project. Seeing people develop in confidence and find their own voice in a supportive group setting is something that is hugely rewarding and I look forward now to taking the group – just one of many Open Book groups across the country – into 2024.
As I head into the New Year I will also embark on a significant community engagement project, working in collaboration and consultation on commission to explore how people feel about where they live and documenting community story and memory. It’s a role I hope will expand and flourish through 2024 and beyond.
What can we do but go forward? Uncertainty and change will always run side by side with our lives. 2023 has shown me that, on a personal level at least, positive change is possible, and that, if change is needed, it is worth living with the uncertainty that comes with not knowing what the outcomes might be. Despite the fears, taking those first steps toward an uncertain future is important. The change that you walk toward, the change that you need, will find you.
“Staying still, I close my eyes and listen. I am filled by the moor’s presence: the sound of the burn at the side of the road; the faint calls of birds, unseen in the heather; the icy cold breath of the wind on my neck. A deep sense of peace comes to me. I feel held within the moor’s ever-changing, ever-present elements, its blossoming and its constant renewal: just one of countless life-processes.”
Ian Grosz, from ‘The Moor, the Sea, the Sky’, Sravaig 13, pp.30-33, p.33.
I’m looking forward to reading from my short essay ‘The Moor, the Sea, the Sky’ this evening, published in Stravaig 13 in the summer. Stravaig is the journal of the Scottish Centre for Geopoetics which draws on the writings and philosophy of Kenneth White to bring together a diverse range of writers, artists, academics, ecologists and earth scientists to explore how Geopoetics can be applied to our lives and our approach to the Earth as home.
My essay explores Lewis’s moorland landscape and my place within it on a return visit to the Western Isles in 2022 after an absence of fifteen years. It is a much-abridged extract of a chapter from a book-length work of narrative non-fiction exploring how landscapes shape a sense of place and identity, for which I am now seeking a publisher. I’ll be reading a short extract from the essay alongside the other contributors of this special Islands issue of the journal.
Click here for a link to join the event and on the image above to read Stravaig 13.
Groundings 