An Bradán Feasa/The Salmon of Knowledge 14"x30"

My submission into *ArtisanCraft's current mythology contest.
CORRECTION: I won!

August 3rd, 2007: DD? Awesome! Thanks a lot!

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Just finished, and it's been a couple months in the works. My friend Alanna came out to the coffeeshop Sunday morning, bright and early, and took a few shots with her purdy little camera so that I could have something good to show around (and remember it by, if some customer accidentaly plows into it).

But, now for the story itself: In Irish mythology, the first thing to ever come into Creation was the Hazel tree, within whose branches flowed all the knowledge of the Universe. Beneath this tree a great well formed, and within that well a great Salmon slept. From time to time, the Hazel tree would drop its acorns into the well below, and the Salmon would awaken and eat them, one after another, until it too knew all the Universe's secrets. As time went on and the world unfurled, men came in search of the Salmon -- seeking to capture it in their nets and swallow its secrets. But the Salmon knew whose net he was promised to, and stayed below.

A couple thousand years ago, a poet named Finnécas came to the well, thinking that he would be the man to finally hook the Salmon -- it was prophesied that a man named 'Finn' would be the one to do so. For seven years he sat at the edge of the well, casting his nets and baiting his lines, waiting for the moment when he would outguess his quarry and claim his reward. But the Salmon was all-knowing (something the stories ignore), and waited for its time to come. And then, one day, a young boy named Demne came to Finnécas and flattered him, saying that in all of Ireland there was no man better suited to teach him the ways of the poet, and begging to be taken on as his apprentice. Finnécas agreed, and Demne became his pupil. Within days the Salmon was hooked, and the poet gave it to Demne to cook, warning him not to eat even a bite of it. And so the Salmon and the boy were left alone. Demne put the fish over the fire, but almost immediately its skin began to blister. The boy pressed down on the blemish with his thumb in an attempt to keep his master's meal from being ruined, but the blister popped and Demne burned his finger. Immediately, the boy thrust his thumb into his mouth to ease the pain. When Finnécas returned and Demne presented the fish to him, the poet noticed an odd light burning in the boy's eyes that he hadn't seen before, and immediately knew that the prophesy hadn't been meant for him, but the child. What the old poet hadn't know was that Demne had another name, given to him by his mother: Fionn, her fair-haired one.

There's more to the story, but it doesn't apply to this piece. This is the exact moment when Finnécas has caught the Salmon. From it flows an ultimate understanding of the universe, which is why most every line in the window is radiating out from its eye. In the halo around its head are the colors of the hazels, reflecting that all its wisdom was grown from those acorns. But, part of that knowledge is that it is about to die, and so the world above the waves is on fire. The Salmon was cooked, after all.

I'm thinking of really focusing on mythological pieces like this, and not just Irish. Obviously, I'd be limiting myself pretty wickedly if I did, no matter how close to my heart it is. In this piece, I did a bit of cultural borrowing...that's definitely not the kind of salmon that'd be swimming in Ireland, and there are a number of Haida elements mixed throughout the piece. As well as a bow to a page in the Book of Kells (the halo).

as Gaeilge:
De réir mhiotaiseolaíocht na hÉireann, ba é an Coll an chéad ní a tháinig ann dó. Ba ina chraobhacha a cuislíodh fios iomlán na Cruinne. Faoi scáth an chrainn seo, deilbhíodh tobar mór, agus istigh sa tobar sin bhí Bradán ina chodladh. Ó am go chéile thití dearcáin anuas ón gColl agus dhúisíodh an Bradán agus d’itheadh sé iad, dearcán i ndiaidh dearcáin, nó go raibh rúndiamhra uile na Cruinne ar eolas aige. Leis an aimsir agus an domhan á bhláthú, thriall fir ar thóir an Bhradáin – iad ag iarraidh é a sháinniú ina n-eangacha le go slogfaidís a chuid eolais rúndiamhraigh. Ach bhí a fhios ag an mBradán cé leis an eangach dár gealladh é, agus d’fhan sé thíos faoi.

Cúla míle bliain ó shin, thriall file darbh ainm Finnécas ar an tobar agus é ag ceapadh gurbh eisean an chéad duine a chuirfeadh duán trí liopa an Bhradáin – tairngríodh go mba fhear darbh ainm ‘Finn’ an té a dhéanfadh é. D’fhan sé ina shuí cois tobair ar feadh seacht mbliana, ag caitheamh a chuid eangacha agus ag cur baoite ar a chuid doruithe, ag fanacht ar an lá a bhfaigheadh sé an ceann is fearr ar a sheilg agus a bhainfeadh sé luach a shaothair amach. Ach bhí an Bradán uilefhiosach (rud ar a thugann na scéalta neamhaird) agus d’fhan sé le cóir. Ansin, lá amháin, tháinig ógánach darbh ainm Demne chomh fada le Finnécas agus é ag plámás leis, á rá nach bhféadfadh duine ar bith eile é a shárú i dteagasc cheird na filíochta agus ag impí air é a ghlacadh mar phrintíseach. Thoiligh Finnécas agus bhí Demne mar dhalta aige. Laistigh de chúla lá bhí an Bradán ar duán acu. Thug an file an Bradán do Dhemne len é a chócaireacht, ach chuir sé fainic air gan oiread is greim amháin a bhaint as. Ba mar sin a fágadh an Bradán agus an t-ógánach ina n-aonar le chéile. Chuir Demne an t-iasc leis an tine, ach i bpreabadh na súl tháinig balscóidí leis an gcraiceann. Rinne sé iarracht an smál a bhrú síos lena ordóg le súil is nach millfí béile a mháistir, ach phléasc an bhalscóid agus dódh méar Dhemne. Ar an toirt, sháigh an t-ógánach a ordóg ina bhéal chun an phian a mhaolú. Nuair a d’fhill Finnécas agus nuair a chuir Demne an t-iasc os a chomhair, thug an file faoi deara go raibh solas aisteach ag lonrú i súile an ógánaigh, solas nach bhfaca sé roimh imeacht dó, agus bhí a fhios aige láithreach gur don ógánach seachas dó féin a bhí an tairngreacht ceaptha. An rud nach raibh ar eolas ag an bhfile ná go raibh ainm eile ag Demne, ainm a thug a mháthair dó: Fionn, a leanbh fionnghruaigeach.

Is faide an scéal ná sin ach ní bhaineann sé leis an saothar seo. An rud a léirítear anseo ná an nóiméad díreach a rug Finnéacas ar an mBradán. Is uaidh a shruthaíonn tuiscint iomlán ar an gcruinne, agus is é sin an fáth gur óna shúil a eascraíonn nach mór chuile líne sa bhfuinneog. Tá dathanna na gcoll le feiceáil sa bhfáinne solais timpeall a chloigeann, á meabhrú dúinn gurbh ó na dearcáin a fuair sé a shaíocht. Mar chuid den tsaíocht sin, áfach, tá an tuiscint ann go bhfuil bás i ndan dó agus, mar sin, bíonn an domhan os cionn na dtonnta trí thine. Rinneadh an Bradán a chócaireacht, tar éis an tsaoil.

Táim ag smaoineamh gur mhaith liom díriú isteach ar shaothair mhiotaiseolaíochta dá leithéid seo, ach ní ar mhiotaiseolaíocht na hÉireann amháin. Is léir go mbeinn ag cur srian ollmhór orm féin dá ndíreoinn ar an traidisiún amháin sin, cuma cé chomh gar do mo chroí is atá sé. Mheasc mé gnéithe ó chultúir éagsúla...is cinnte nach bhfeicfí a leithéid de bhradán ag snámh in Éirinn. Tá roinnt gnéithe Haida sníofa tríd an saothar chomh maith. Anuas air sin, thug mé ómós don Leabhar Cheanannais leis an bhfáinne solais. Le haghaidh radharcanna níos mionsonraithe (ach go háirithe na sonraí gaineamh-snoite) caith súil ar an Dánlann Flickr.


Grianghraf le Alanna Avant. Justin McCubbin a d'aistrigh an suíomh seo go Gaeilge.