Seahenge- Monument to the Underworld

Seahenge 36x24 on two panels ©Leslie Peterson Sapp

"Seahenge" is a misnomer.

But, when it was excavated in 1998, a clever journalist called it "The Stonehenge of the Sea," and the name stuck.

Not to get too nerdy, but a "henge" is actually a circular ditch and bank, but only when the ditch is on the inside of the bank, as opposed to the outside of the ditch.

In fact, even Stonehenge isn't technically a henge, but a "stone circle."

Arbor Low Henge, Derbyshire, UK

Seahenge, however, is a timber circle, created in about 2049 BCE.

Timber circle, reconstructed for Time Team. photo: Julian Thomas

Like stone circles, timber circles were ritual monuments from the Neolithic and early Bronze Age in Northern Europe. (However, similar structures were also built in other places and times across the globe- anywhere with trees, I guess.)

Actually, there were many more timber circles than there are stone circles. Wood, however, decomposes.

Archeologists are experts at being able to read the soil. Different colors and textures can tell a trained archeologist whether the ground was disturbed and what might have been buried there.

Timber circles can be detected only by the ghostly remnants of the post holes, evidenced by circles of differently colored soil.

Post hole. Isn't archeology glamorous?

Unless, of course, the wood exists in a low-oxygen environment.

From the Salt-marsh to the Sea

This monument was not, in fact, built on the beach.

Back in 2049 BCE, sea levels were lower than now. Back then, the site of Seahenge was a salt marsh, teeming with wildlife- and sodden, low-oxygen soil.

The tree trunks decomposed above the marsh, but endured in the marshy soil. Eventually, the sea inundated the marsh, and the remains of the timber monument hibernated beneath the sea floor.

Seahenge. photo: Andy Burnham

Then, in 1998, two amateur archeologists on the southwestern coast of England found some bronze axe heads and espied some unusual bits of wood sticking up from the sand. Sea tides had scooped away the sand and exposed the stubs of tree trunks. They notified the local museum, and experts quickly realized the significance of their find.

Plan of Seahenge, after Pryor 2001

The configuration of the timbers is a bit unusual. Instead of being spaced apart to create a permeable boundary, they are planted side by side, like a fence. It is estimated the timbers stood about 10 feet above the ground. They are split lengthwise, with the bark-side facing outward.

One tree trunk is forked, so it could be used as a narrow passage way. Another tree trunk was placed in front of it, so that while someone could squeeze their way in, it would be difficult to see what was inside.

Oak trees do not grow in salt marshes, and it is thought that the trees were transported quite a long distance.

The fact that a timber circle was preserved at all was noteworthy. But what makes Seahenge so astonishing is the up-turned oak tree in its center.

The Inverted Oak Tree

Seahenge trunk being excavated. Photo: Norfolk Museums Collection

The oak tree trunk is a much larger tree than the rest; it measures 8 feet and weighs over a ton.

As soon as the wood of the trunk and timbers were exposed to the air, they started to deteriorate rapidly. They were all removed and went through an elaborate preservation process, involving fresh water tanks, a special wax, and polyethylene glycol, which gradually strengthened the cell structure of the wood.

Seahenge trunk at Lynn Museum, Norfolk, UK.

The trunk and many of the timbers are now on display at The Lynn Museum, about 20 miles away from its original location.**

The question, as always, is why? Why build this?

There are a number of theories, but the main one is this: This was a sky burial.

Sky Burial

A sky burial is when human remains are left to decompose with the help of carrion birds. It's a practice most notable in Tibet and historically with some North American tribes. The remains are situated in some way to facilitate consumption by birds, and discourage consumption by larger animals, which would dismember and move the body around. The point is to have the remains excarnated, without being totally ravaged.

Sometimes the body is elevated on a platform or tree. In the case of Seahenge, the remains were placed in the bowl-like shape of the tree root system, then the protective timber circle was constructed to keep larger animals away.

The Tree of Life and Death

But none of this answers the question: Why an inverted tree? Why not just a platform like what is in Holme II, another timber circle only 100 meters away?

It could be that the tree root system simply created that bowl-like shape, suitable for cradling human remains. But I don’t think so. It seems to me it’s meant to imply the tree continues downward under the earth, into the underworld.

My interpretation may be influenced by what I have learned about The Journey of the Sun, a Nordic Bronze Age theology, where it is believed the sun travels across the sky during the day, and then returns under the earth to rise again the next day. (To learn more about The Journey of the Sun, read my blog entries about The Sun’s Nocturnal Return, The Nebra Sky Disc, and Tree Burial I & II.)

The Seahenge monument is from the Neolithic, and predates the Bronze Age by many centuries. But it still implies to me that there was a conception of an underworld, a place where the deceased go, mimicking the sun’s decent. This idea of cycles- day and night, life and death- is echoed in the inverted tree, symbolizing an upside-down world.

Seahenge Photo: Andy Burnham

Having said all this, my art isn’t just about objects and places from the past; it’s also about the passage of time and how we regard these objects and places now. So, even though this monument was created in a salt marsh, and wasn’t some beach driftwood sculpture, it’s inundation by the sea effects my imagination. The moment I saw images of it, I couldn’t help but envision this inverted oak tree as living under the sea, upside down in a subterranean ocean.

My Artistic Process

I am not actually that great of a shopper. I know it seems strange to think of this activity as a skill, but believe me, it is.

My husband excels at shopping. He seems to relish it, knows what he wants, and never wanders into a store half-cocked.

I, on the other hand, often launch forth without researching, without calling, just wandering out assuming that whatever it is I want will just be there waiting for me.

This time was such a moment. I have been really good and disciplined about CALLING the art store before going to make sure they have the panel size I want. But this time, for some reason, I didn't. I just went.

Following the visual impression in my mind, I wanted a 36x24 panel. They didn't have it. But when I am in this state of mind, it is difficult for me to accept the brutal fact that I should have called and now I have to go to another art store... or change my plans.

I know I'm mathematically challenged, but even I could calculate that two 18x24 panels equals 36x24.

I thought, this could really work out.

In my visual impression of the piece, I envisioned an upper world, and a lower world, as if the upturned tree trunk was an entire tree, living in the world below.

I snatched up two 18x24 panels and happily made my way home. I started with this small sketch here.

I used a piece of wood and some C-clamps to keep the two panels an inch apart. Then I sketched my idea directly on the panels with charcoal.

Then I commenced the important step of creating my colored ground.

The colored ground was essential to capture what my visual impressions were showing me.

I wanted to start at the top of the panels with a lavender-sky-blue, and gradually deepen and darken into a deep, undersea-purple.

My first attempt was awful. I repainted the whole thing with white gesso again, and started over. This time I used acrylic drying retarder and sponge rollers.

When done, I started to create bubble-like marks below. I did this by spraying or sprinkling rubbing alcohol on the acrylic paint, waiting a moment, then rubbing it off. The alcohol temporarily breaks down the acrylic so that it can be removed. The result is a speckling effect. I also dipped plastic lids of different sizes in rubbing alcohol, placed them on the panel to create little circles of alcohol, and then rubbing that off. The effect looks like a transparent bubble.

I redrew in my sketch, and then had to dust off my landscape painting skills, and try to do justice to some of the beautiful pictures that were taken of Seahenge before it was removed from the site.

After working on that top half for a while, I had to tackle the under-water tree.

In my minds eye, I could not help but be reminded of Yggdrasil.

Sounds like an exotic breakfast dish, but it is, in fact, a cosmic tree from Viking Age mythology.

The World Tree, The Cosmic Tree, The Tree of Life- there are many names for this archetypal symbol. It represents the essential order of the cosmos, and connects the heavens, earth, and underworld.

But in this case, the tree is upside down.

Using visual references of actual oak trees and a disturbing amount of AI generated trees floating in water, I drew and painted my tree, sometimes upside down, and sometimes flipping the panel over to right side up.

But the main act of painting was not the tree itself, but the water around it.

Again using rubbing alcohol, I misted the panel, then used a rag to scrub away paint slightly, creating a back-lit effect around the tree.

Using this technique, I created a luminous, sparkling atmosphere.

Cycles of Life and Death

As is so often the case in this series of Archeology Art, my subject ultimately is about the Life/Death cycle.

We humans commonly reassure ourselves by believing that we don’t really die. Our loved ones still exist somewhere, and that when we die, we will go there too. Some visions on the afterlife are pretty bleak, some are frightening, and some are comforting. But it’s almost universal to believe in something other than the notion that when we die, we are simply… gone.

It sounds macabre, and often it is. But just as often it is life-affirming, not nihilistic. Especially when the exploration of life's cycles results in monuments, or simple paintings, of beauty and wonder.

** There has been real controversy related to the excavation and removal of Seahenge. Neo-pagan groups have stated that it desecrated the intentions of the ancestors. Partly because of this, Holme II- another timber circle built nearby at the same time as Seahenge- has been left in situ. It's deterioration, due to the elements and its exposure to oxygen, is being studied by archeologists.