#picts

Batalla de Dunnichen

La batalla de Dunnichen (también conocida como la batalla de Dun Nechtain, la batalla de Nechtanemere, Linn Garan y la batalla de Nechtan) fue un enfrentamiento decisivo entre los northumbrios, al mando de su rey Egfrido, y los pictos, bajo el liderazgo de su rey Brude Mac Bile (también conocido como el rey Bridei III). La batalla tuvo lugar a las 3 de la tarde del sábado 20 de mayo del año 685 d.C. Esta datación precisa del enfrentamiento podría sugerir que existe una documentación exhaustiva de la batalla, pero, en realidad, aparte del relato del historiador Beda (672-735) y, posiblemente, de la representación tallada en la piedra n.º 2 de Aberlemno, se conocen pocos detalles. La batalla de Dunnichen detuvo las invasiones de Northumbria, al menos por un tiempo, liberó a los escoceses y britanos del dominio de Northumbria y aseguró las fronteras de las tierras de los pictos. Los historiadores John y Julia Keay señalan que la batalla «puede que, en consecuencia, creara las circunstancias que llevaron a la fundación de Escocia» (271). Esta afirmación cuenta con el respaldo de otros historiadores, como Stuart McHardy, quien también destaca la importancia duradera de esta batalla en la historia de Escocia.

The ancient Picts of early medieval Scotland were masterful, hyper-observant students of the natural world. If you look at their surviving Class I standing stones—such as the famous Burghead Bulls—they carved boars, eagles, wolves, and salmon with such flawless, dynamic anatomical accuracy that you would think the animals stood perfectly still to pose for them.

But their most frequently carved animal presents a massive historical anomaly. It makes up nearly forty percent of all their animal symbols, yet nobody on earth knows what it is.

We just call it the "Pictish Beast."

Scholarly debates have raged for over a century. Is it a highly stylized dolphin? A mythological water kelpie? Is it a misunderstood elephant, based entirely on vague Roman descriptions rather than physical sight? There is no consensus. But one thing is absolutely certain: it wasn’t a mistake. The Picts standardized this strange, sweeping, snout-nosed shape and carved it perfectly, over and over again, from the sixth century onward.

But by the late eighth century, something shifts. As the culture was heavily Christianized and slowly absorbed into the Gaelic Kingdom of Alba, the Beast transitions onto the Class II Christian cross-slabs. Separated from its original pagan context, its rigid, standardized form begins to bend, morph, and eventually fade away entirely.

A lot of modern historians and archaeologists lament the fact that we have completely lost the true meaning of this creature. Modern culture hates not having all the answers. But I think looking at it as a "loss" misses the point entirely.

The true magic isn’t possessing a clinical, encyclopedic knowledge of exactly what the symbol meant. The true magic is that human beings carved a piece of their imagination into solid bedrock, and that image survived the death of their entire civilization. This strange, nameless beast is still with us today—weathering the rain and the wind, waiting in the stone for someone new to wonder about it.

My recent trip to Polish/Czech mountains reminded me of working on this series of illustrations for the Carved in Stone book 🖤 while our countries are far away, all the beautiful heathers, ferns and mossy rocks reminded me of making the reasearch for these! I'm still so, so happy and thankful I had a chance to work on them.