The Finnish Forest
Beginning in the Mesolithic Age, early
wilderness Finland was the meeting ground for two distinct shamanic institutions. According to cultural anthropologist Matti
Sarmela, Finns (Suomalaiset) and
Karelians on one hand, and Saami on the other, are the direct descendants of the
“aboriginal Europeans” who peopled these institutions. (1)
 |
| Finnish forest: Nuuksio, 2010 Sarah Alden |
Sarmela observes that these modern cultures
of Finland “have retained information about the world of the ancient
fisher-hunter-gatherers of the continent, not revealed from archaeological
finds in the rest of Europe.” (2) One evidence of this is the international
renown that Finland has achieved for the love and concern for nature expressed
in its culture(s) and by many of its citizens.
I see this in part as a modern reflection of the ontological bonds established
by the shamanic institutions of prehistory with the haltias (Suomalaiset and Karelians) and háldis (Saami)—the masters and protectors of local
landscapes that I have also called ‘guardians of nature’.
Sarmela, specifically referring to
Finns and Karelians, believes that the tradition of the haltia persisted for them into early modern times: “Man (sic)
would come into contact with haltias
of the natural environment when spending the night in the forest or in hunting
or fishing huts, when clearing swidden or building a house on the haltia’s land. These legends reflect a real belief that every
place has its own haltia.” (3) Laura
Stark adds that, “Particularly in Eastern Finland, folk ritual practices
regarding haltias included magic and
offerings made to appease the place spirits or ensure success in economic
efforts such as hunting, fishing, grain cultivation, and cattle husbandry.” (4)
This tradition continues to be honoured
in a national park in Espoo, the city to the immediate west of the capital,
Helsinki.
In Nuuksio National Park, on Lake Pitkäjärvi, there is an innovative forest centre called
Haltia.
Its architecture and some of its programming
represent attempts to engage with the ancient sacred worldviews of
Finland.
A Painting on the Cliff
South of the nature centre on Lake Pitkäjärvi
is the Jäniskallio cliff. Near the water’s
edge, there is a rock painting of what appears to be an elk, created by
Neolithic hunter-gatherer-fishers.
The Jäniskallio elk painting is near water level, and is 47 cm (18.5
in) wide and 28 cm (11 in) high. This rock painting site is one of about 125 that have been discovered in Finland. (5)
The elk rock painting is possibly related
to the haltia (Finnish) or hálti
(Saami) of the area, portrayed as the guardian of the elk.
Which of the two shamanic institutions of hunter-gatherer-fishers
of early Finland was responsible for
the Jäniskallio elk painting—the post-Ahrensburg institution, to which later
Saami shamanism is heir, or the post-Swiderian
institution, that is ancestral to later Finnish shamanism? The answer to this question matters because rock
painting is a form of sacred art that, because of its graphic and expressive nature,
offers a privileged window on Neolithic Finland. When we are able to match a painting with the
shamanic institution that created it, we deepen our understanding of the lifeways
and worldviews of that particular institution.
There is broad agreement that both shamanic
institutions participated in the rock painting tradition of early Finland, and
there are indications that bands
associated with each one lived at various times in the area around Helsinki and
Espoo. Even though their
respective rituals of animal ceremonialism differed greatly, both were known to
have included stone cliffs such as those of Jäniskallio (see photo below) as
central ritual elements.
However, at present there is not sufficient archaeological evidence to definitively establish the shamanic institution that was
the source of the red ochre elk of Pitkäjärvi. The same applies to most, if not all, rock
painting sites of Finland.
The issue of lack of definitive material
evidence is not confined to rock paintings; the origin of many sacred art
artifacts of early Finland is similarly uncertain. Fortunately, there is an additional form of
evidence available to assist us: the ‘ontological
frames’ of the sacred artists of the two institutions.
Two Shamanic Institutions, Two
Ontologies
A critical
difference that I identified in Post 3 between the two shamanic institutions of
early Finland, post-Ahrensburg and post-Swiderian, was in terms of the ontology—the
basic assumptions about the nature of reality, or Layton’s terms, the “theory
of being”—that guided each. I termed them totemist-animist and animist
respectively. Each set the ‘ontological
frame’ within which sacred artists of the institution worked, which in turn
today provides us with an important key for differentiating and interpreting their
products of sacred art. (Let us recall
Layton’s statement in Post 3 that “art which is the product
of shamanism…can only be understood in terms of the theory of being that
generates such customs.” (6))
In practical terms, how do we make use of this important key? A method has
been developed by a Finnish archaeologist, Antti Lahelma, who researches the
rock art of Finland. In A Touch of Red, he uses ethnographic
accounts of the pre-Christian Finns and Saami to derive what I am calling the ‘ontological
frames’ of each. (While he does not explicitly
use this term, he works within the ‘new animism’ and at the heart of his
analysis are the ontologies of the two groups.)
He then employs them in close coordination with archaeological evidence
to identify the probable institutional belongingness of rock paintings across
Finland and to interpret their meaning. (7)
Lahelma (photo above) focuses his analysis specifically on rock paintings. However, I believe his pioneering method—using
ontological frames derived from ethnology and archaeology to address questions
of authorship and interpretation where archaeological materials alone are not
sufficient—can be extended to all forms of sacred art of early Finland. I will use it in this expanded way in the
present and coming posts.
At the same
time, I take issue with Lahelma’s portrayals of the ontological frames of the
two shamanic institutions of early Finland.
I feel his account of that of the post-Ahrensburg shamanic institution is
incomplete in important respects, and that he misunderstands the ontology of
the post-Swiderian institution, seeing it as little more than a variation on
the post-Ahrensburg one. For this
reason, over the next two posts I will develop my own accounts of the
respective ontological frames of the two shamanic institutions, pointing out
where I depart from Lahelma’s characterisations of them. (Based on my own accounts of the two
ontological frames, I reach different conclusions regarding the authorship and
interpretation of rock paintings than does Lahelma, a topic I will explore in a
later post focussing specifically on rock painting.)
In coming
posts I will put the reformulated ontological frames to work in conjunction
with archaeological evidence, using the method developed by Lahelma. I will
trace the nature and separate evolution of the two shamanic institutions of
Finland of prehistory by means of their sacred arts, including rock paintings, ceramic
designs, ceramic figurines, wooden sculptures, and ritual instruments.
As a
preliminary step, I will now briefly explain what I mean by the ‘ontological
frame’ within which a sacred artist works.
Defining ‘Ontological Frame’
In Post 1 I
defined sacred art objects or performances as those “empowered with the agency
to help establish and mediate communication with the other world, as part of
appropriate shamanic rituals.” How was this
‘empowered agency’ imparted to objects and performances?
I suggest it
was imparted through the action of artists when, in conversation with spirit, they
created forms, designs, patterns, and/or ornamentation that were fully guided
by the ontology, or “indigenous theory of how the world works” of their
shamanic institution. (I will address the
nature of this ‘conversation with spirit’ in later posts.)
There are
three elements that I consider to be at the heart or core of the ontologies of
the two shamanic institutions. I present them here as questions for which each
institution had answers, not as part of a formal thought system, but
implicitly, in Ingold’s words, as “orientations that are deeply embedded in
everyday practice”. (8)
I believe
that the respective sets of answers by the two institutions to the three ‘core questions’
(a) can be considered as constituting the ‘ontological frames’ of the work of their
sacred artists, and in turn, (b) can help us to distinguish and interpret the
products and performances of each. (Note:
I borrow the term “sacred geography” from Tiina Äikäs. See reference 14 below.)
I will now give
a preliminary sense of how the answers to the above core questions might have
framed the work of a sacred artist, specifically through the example of a shaman’s
drum.
A Shaman’s Drum
As part of
their ontological form, spirit persons may have the capacity to ‘hear’ human
sounds and to positively respond to sonic driving. If this is the case, then drums skillfully created
by the sacred artist, and played as part of an appropriate shamanic drumming ‘performance’,
have the potential to help a shaman establish an ‘adjusted state of
communication’ with the spirit persons.
Since both of
the shamanic institutions of early Finland used drums as part of shamanic
rituals, it is it apparent that both also recognised the power of ‘hearing’ of
spirit persons. Helskog says of the
Saami, “drums were used to establish contact between man (sic) and the
supernatural powers, to secure a good outcome in any type of undertaking.” (9) Similarly, Siikala says, “The means utilised
by the Finnish noita in order to achieve an ecstatic state was
song. It seems that noitas also
used various kinds of musical instruments (and) in the earliest periods, such
instruments were doubtless the drum, which typified Northern Eurasian hunting
cultures.” (10)
Because drums
were a common Northern animist heritage, their use was not a basis for
differentiation of the sacred arts of the two shamanic institutions. However, while it is not known what designs the drums of noitas might have had (none are known to exist), some drums of Saami noaidis have survived from early modern Finland and the decorative designs on the
heads are considered to have
particular shamanic significance.
Above is an
Saami drum from the early modern period, residing at the National Museum of
Finland. The markings on the animal hide
drum face are quite faded, but a portion of them are traced and enhanced in the
graphic below. In 1950, Ernst Manker interpreted the figures, indicated by the
numbers placed next to them. (11)
There is evidence
that the Saami saw sacred drums as animated beings. For example, Lund says, “The concept of
animated, personified objects is a well-known element of Sami tradition with
the drum as the most conspicuous example.” (12) For this reason, we may consider the ontological
form of the old drum residing at the National Museum to be that of a ‘drum
person’.
Pentikäinen
says of Saami sacred drums, “It is evident that the construction of the drum
demanded a specialised knowledge of shamanic rituals and mythology. This is especially true in the case of the
symbolic figures on the face of the drum, which were carved into the surface of
its skin and afterward outlined in blood.”
Pentikäinen suggests that to have had this level of knowledge, the
sacred artists “presumably” were “religious specialists”, and “most likely
shamans themselves”. (13)
Pentikäinen characterises
what he calls the “drawings” on the drum as “symbols” related to Saami
“religion” and “mythology”. However, if
their ontological form had been simply as ‘symbols’, the drawings would not have
had the capacity to define their own contributions to the power of the animated
drum.
Instead, I believe
it is likely that the “drawing” figures were considered animated, just like the
drum. I would call them ‘drum drawing
persons’, who contributed to the overall animacy of the drum. That is, a sacred artist would have assisted spirit
persons to take ontological form, in the middle world, as drawings on the drum
head—in addition to their ontological forms in the upper or lower world. In turn, the drawing persons would have assisted
a noaidi to better achieve adjusted communication with the other worlds
during his shamanic drum performances. When
‘enlivened’ as part of a shamanic ritual, they would have lent their ‘voices’
to the sounds of the drumming, and when ‘seen’ on the drum head by spirit
persons, they would have appeared as familiar and trusted.
Above are three
‘drum drawing persons’ selected from the face of the shaman’s drum at the
National Museum, each representing one of the tripartite ‘worlds’ of the Saami:
upper, middle and lower. Based on the
interpretation by Manker, at left is the Radien-trinity of the upper
world, with halos above their heads. In the centre is a beaver, of the middle
world. From the lower world, at the
right, is Jabmeaimo, the realm of the dead, and standing beside it is a person
from the realm of the dead.
Owing to the
co-presence of beings from each of the three worlds, during a shamanic ritual the
animal skin drum head would have become—in ontological terms—an ‘animated island’,
located within what Aikas calls the “sacred geography” of the Saami. (14) It
would have been a living microcosm of the topography of their tripartite worlds. The residents of the ‘animated island’ would
have included the array of spirit persons who were considered by the band to be
essential for their survival. From this
array, the noaidi would have called forth the assistance of an
individual drum drawing person, or an ensemble of them, to help intercede with
the particular spirit persons of the tripartite worlds who were most important
for the success of the shamanic ritual.
The noaidi
was the mediator of the tripartite worlds, residing in the middle world but
journeying to the other two, the upper and the lower, carrying on reciprocal social
relations with spirit persons there. Above,
on the left, is a graphic by Picart, depicting a noaidi lying on the
ground in shamanic trance, with his drum on his back. The drum drawing person on
the right is interpreted by Manker as a noaidi, holding his drum.
Hellander-Renvall
says that, “Sami subsistence people perceive lands, and animals and spirits
dwelling on those lands as persons and acting subjects.” (15) The foremost spirit persons dwelling on the
lands were the sieidis and saivos. Sieidis were deities who had often
taken the ontological form of stone boulders or cliffs. They were the háldis, masters of the
game of local areas.
Manker identified the drum figure above as possibly a sieidi deity (
a “stone idol seita”). Next to it is the Tatsi
Seita located near Kittilä, Finland. (16) The
bleached antlers of an elk, offered as a sacrifice, are visible near the top.
According to
Manker’s interpretation, the drum drawing person pictured above is a saivo,
specifically ”Noidekörmai, the shaman’s snake”. Saivos were guardian spirit persons of
the noaidi who accompanied or led him on shamanic journeys, and who inhabited
stone cliffs, hills and mountains.
The principal form of social relations between Saami and spirit persons was
animal ceremonialism, involving the stone sieidi deity. It was a reciprocal relationship, in which
the band provided a sacrifice to the sieidi, usually of elk or elk body
parts where hunting was the main means of subsistence.
The figure
from the drum above was interpreted by Manker as an “offering and two elks on
an offering place”.
The above figure
is interpreted by Manker as “Elks in a forest”, suggesting the plentiful game
that the sieidi would make available to the Saami in exchange for a
sacrifice. Their presence on the drum would
have represented success in the interchange between the Saami band and the sieidi
deity, living ‘products’ of reciprocal social relations.
Conclusion
On one
level, the array of drawings on the Saami noaidi drum in the National Museum
can be seen as presenting something of a guide to Saami ‘mythology’ and ritual
life. This would seem to be how Pentikäinen
approaches it. However, I have argued
that as part of the Saami “theory of how the world works”, the drawings are
more than mere symbols or depictions of belief, or inspirations for the noaidi
in ritual settings.
Instead, I
have argued, the inhabitants of the face of the ‘drum person’ (as Lund and
others would term it) are themselves living ‘actors’ or ‘subjects’, assisting
in shamanic journeys to those places where the spirit persons who govern the
welfare of the Saami band reside, and in the rituals calling forth their
help. In creating the noaidi’s
drum, the sacred artist would have negotiated—with the sieidi deity, the elk
persons, ”Noidekörmai, the shaman’s snake”, and the others—for their
living presence on the drum face.
In terms of my
formal definition of sacred arts, we can say that the noaidi’s drum of
the National Museum was “empowered with the agency to help establish and
mediate communication with the tripartite worlds, as part of a shamanic
ritual”. This empowerment was made
possible because the sacred artist who created the drum—probably a noaidi—was
guided by the Saami/post-Ahrensburg ontological frame in his design of the drum
head. This was in terms of 1) the ontological
forms of spirit persons, e.g. their presence on the drum head as drawing
persons, 2) the nature of social relations with spirit persons, e.g., the
presence of the sieidi as háldi and of the elk as sacrifices, and 3) the
sacred geography of these social relations, e.g., the creation of an ‘island’
of the Saami tripartite worlds on the drum head.
In this preliminary
example, Lahelma’s method of using ontological frames derived from ethnology
and archaeology assisted us in interpreting the meaning of the Saami drum. It suggests
that the method can apply beyond rock paintings to other forms of sacred art of
early Finland. However, because we have
no examples of drums used by Finnish shamans, or noitas, we cannot use drum
head figures to differentiate between the work of the two shamanic institutions.
A fuller application
of Lahelma’s method awaits more extensive exploration of the ontological frames of the two shamanic
institutions. I provided above only an
abbreviated version of the post-Ahrensburg shamanic ontological frame. In the
next post, I will consider this frame in greater depth, based its answers to the
three core questions above.
Following
the post on the post-Ahrensburg institution, I will present another that
explores the ontological frame of the post-Swiderian shamanic institution,
ancestral to Finnish shamanism.
Anticipating this post, I present below the cover of the 2015 album of
the Finnish folk metal band Korpiklanni,
titled Noita. It reflects, I believe, further evidence for
Sarmela’s view that the cultures of Finland—even the popular cultures—“have
retained information about the world of the ancient fisher-hunter-gatherers”.
Kalle “Cane” Savijärvi, a guitarist of Korpiklanni, said in an interview, “The
translation of ‘Noita’ is a witch – lots of people though associate it with
Black Sabbath, dark rituals or an evil woman with broom flying. It’s nothing
like that! The traditional Finnish meaning is a healer or shaman, and it could
be a man or a woman.” (17)
References
1.
Sarmela, Matti. Finnish
Folklore Atlas: Ethnic Culture of Finland 2. SKS, The Finnish
Literature Society, Helsinki, 2009.
2. Ibid.
3. Ibid.
4. Stark-Arola, Laura. Magic, Body
and Social Order. SKS, The
Finnish Literary Society, Helsinki,
1998
5.
Lahelma, Antti. A Touch of Red: Archaeological and Ethnographic
Approaches to Interpreting Finnish Rock Paintings. Iskos . Finnish
Antiquarian Society, Helsinki 2008
6.
Layton, Robert. Shamanism, Totemism and Rock Art: Les Chamanes de la
Préhistoire in the Context of Rock Art Research. Cambridge
Archaeological Journal . Vol. 10, 1, 2000.
7.
Lahelma, Antti. A Touch of Red: Archaeological and Ethnographic
Approaches to Interpreting Finnish Rock Paintings. Iskos . Finnish
Antiquarian Society, Helsinki 2008
8. Ingold, Tim. Totemism,
animism and the depiction of animals. In
The Perception of the Environment. : Routledge, London and New
York , 2000.
9. Helskog, Knut. Selective depictions. A study of 3,500 years of rock carvings from
Arctic Norway and their relationship to the Sami drums. Archaeology as Long-Term History, Ian Hodder
(ed) Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, London, New York, 2009
10.
Siikala,
Anna-Leena. Mythic Images and Shamanism: A
Perspective on Kalevala Poetry. Academia Sientiarum Fennica, Helsinki,
2002.
11.
Manker, Ernst. The
Figures of the Shaman Drum, 1950.
Display materials of the National Museum of Finland, no date.
12.
Lund, Julie.
Living Places or Animated Objects? Sámi Sacrificial Places with Metal Objects
and Their South Scandinavian Parallels. Acta Borealia, 2015 Vol. 32, No. 1,
20-39
13.
Pentikäinen, Juha. The Sámi shaman – mediator between man and universe, in Mihály Hoppál (ed.) Shamanism in Eurasia, Part 1. : Edition Herodot, Gottingen, 1984
14.
Äikäs, Tiina. From Boulders to Fells: Sacred Places in the Sámi Ritual
Landscape. Monographs
of the Archaeological Society of Finland 5, Helsinki, 2015
15.
Helander-Remvall, Elina. Animism, personhood and the nature of
reality: Sami perspectives. Polar Record 46
(236): 44-56 (2010)
16.
Äikäs, Tiina. From Boulders to Fells: Sacred Places in the Sámi Ritual
Landscape. Monographs
of the Archaeological Society of Finland 5, Helsinki, 2015
17.
The Metalist, “An Interview with
Korpiklanni”, April 2015 (accessed on the web June 28, 2017)
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