The creation of shrunken heads is considered to be a dying art. Not a bad thing, one might think, but it is sad when old traditions die out, as often they can never be re-learnt, a bit of cultural heritage gone forever.
The ancient Britons had a long tradition of lopping off the heads of their enemies. It was much commented on by Roman historians, and by and large, was discouraged, at least as far as the Romans were concerned. However, the ancient Britons were a cunning lot, and those that did not become assimilated to the Roman ideal, melted back into the depths of the countryside, and became even more seriously rural than before. Over the centuries those surviving small bands of ancient Britons diminished even further until they became the stuff of legends. Goblins, wee beasties, the ugly end of Faery realm…
But in those remote, dark places of woodland and fen, far away from the dwellings of ‘the big folk’ they were real, very real, with winning little ways, like stealing livestock, game, and, of course, lost travellers. As the centuries progressed, so their head hunting activities became much more infrequent. Quality became their watchword rather than quantity. And, as practice makes perfect, our indigenous head hunters have become as good as it gets.
This green and pleasant land gets smaller by the decade as towns grow into cities, and motorways girdle the country, and our little ancient Britons, are found in few places now — one such being Epping Forest. However recent building work has brought our two tribes into more than a passing contact. Proof of this is in three trophy heads that have been found in a hastily abandoned camp site close to the forest’s edge.
That they are contemporary and not some ancient trophy is attested by the crude signs that were hung around the necks of the trophies. For one thing, the signs are written in a sort of English, and not the traditional Oggham script. Another indicator might be the choice of victim. The trophies that have come into our possession are from occupations which have, within our society, an iconic status as predators or hunters.
Out there, in the night, are savage hunters, trained to move like shadows, trained from birth to be invisible; an ancient race, long forgotten, tiny in stature, deadly in pursuit. Their habitat is now under threat. Pushed to the limit, their dreadful skills are now being used as their revenge.
Or someone else’s.
The Heads were sculpted by Ian Mitchell in the Somerset studios of Bernard Pearson and are made from Crystacast (a fine-art casting material), hand-painted and finished.. Each piece stands 100mm high, and is 80mm wide.
Designed & made in Great Britain.
