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Description

Ásmundr and Farthegn erected this stone in memory of Thorketill of Vattrång, their father. Gunnborga the Good carved this stone.

Carving a runestone was no easy task. Only the most skilled of stonemasons were commissioned for these monumental works of art. The stone had to be quarried, dressed, carved, and painted. Runes and images of fantastical beasts and heavenly symbols wound their way around runestones' edges, spelling out stories of family and heartbreak, love and war, travel and revelation. The stones became major milestones in the landscape. They marked memory permanently in bold strokes of stone, looming over roads and bridges as a reminder of those who came before.

Most of the runemasters who made these stones were men - but not all of them. Around the turn of the 11th century, two brothers called Ásmundr and Farthegn approached their local runemaster in Jättendal, a settlement in the Swedish region of Hälsingland. Their father Thorketill had recently passed away, and they were looking to raise a stone in his memory. It was a custom that stretched back centuries into the pagan past, but Thorketill had been a man of the new faith. Although Christian missionaries had been visiting Sweden since the ninth century, it was only in the past few years that Sweden had seen its first Christian king, Olof Skötkonung. King Olof founded churches and even a bishopric, but in the year 1000, there were still many Swedes who weren't Christian.

Unlike the Norwegian king Olaf Tryggvason, who was aggressive about conversion across his empire, Olof did not force his subjects to convert to Christianity. In fact, according to the 11th century historian Adam of Bremen, Olof reached an agreement with the pagan priests of Uppsala Temple that he would never force anyone to convert to Christianity. He seems to have kept his word, for while there was later violence between pagan and Christian Swedes, it happened generations after his time. Nevertheless, there were some Swedes who were already converting around 1000, following the lead of their king. Ásmundr and Farthegn wanted their father's memorial stone to reflect his embrace of the new faith. They wanted a stone that would glorify both their father's memory and their Christian faith. Only the most skilled craftsperson could complete their commission - and so they sought out Gunnborga the Good.

Gunnborga is known to us only from the stone she made for the two brothers. While it was fairly common for runemasters to sign their work, Gunnborga is one of the only women who ever did. It's possible that other runestones in the area of Hälsingland were made by Gunnborga but left unsigned. Her work is in the earliest style of Christian runestone, suggesting it was made between AD 980 and 1015. Thorketill and his sons may have been some of the first Christian converts in Sweden. Although most of the design on the stone Gunnborga made them is missing, there remains the outline of a single cross. The rest of the surviving design is the inscription which snakes around the perimeter of the stone, commemorating Thorketill for posterity.

Was Gunnborga herself a Christian? It's possible, even probable. But given the easy relationship between pagans and Christians in Sweden at this time, she may not have been. We know very little about the lives of runemasters, even though we know some of their names. They were probably of an elevated class compared to the average commoner, given their literacy in runes and their training in making mythological and religious designs. They were also probably employed as stonemasons more generally. Some inherited the trade from their fathers, while others clearly studied the works of runemasters from past generations to learn the craft. We can guess from Gunnborga's epithet "the Good", which she proudly included in her signature, that she was a member of an elite class. It referred not to her skill per se, but to her status as an important and virtuous member of the local community. Her clients were likewise relatively wealthy since they could afford to commission a runestone.

The other women who carved runestones leave us even fewer clues about their identities. A woman who lived in the Norse-controlled Isle of Man carved the name of Jesus onto an old memorial runestone, signing off with the words "Þúríðr carved the runes." Unlike Gunnborga, Þúríðr might not have been a runemaster, since she merely left her mark on an existing stone rather than creating a new one. In a few other cases, researchers have been able to determine through grammatical inference that some damaged inscriptions were carved by women, even though their names don't fully survive. One such woman carved a runestone just about twenty miles north of where Gunnborga made hers. Her name was probably Ásgegarðr, and all that remains of her inscription is that she "struck the runes." All in all, there are no more than a dozen runestones which we can safely say were probably carved by women. Still, the existence of these female runemasters tells us that even if they were a minority, they were respected masters of their craft.

In this illustration, Gunnborga is just finished off signing a runestone commission. Her rich jewellery, including two tortoise shell brooches and beads of glass and amber, signifies her high status. Completely absorbed in her task, she carefully chisels away the granite. In the next millennium to come, the stone will weather all sorts of trials, from winter storms to church fires. But through it all, the words she painstakingly made will survive: Gunnborga the Good carved this stone.

This one took me a long time, so it's good to finally finish it! I just can't get over how cool it is to think about female runemasters. The pose was really hard. I looked at a lot of photographs and videos of people making recreation medieval stone carvings, particularly Pictish stones in Scotland, for reference. Many thanks to SachiiA for help with the pose too. The size of the stone and runes in proportion to Gunnborga are not exact - that's what artistic license is for!

The house in the background is based on one in the Foteviken Viking Museum in Sweden. I also took inspiration from my favourite restaurant in Wisconsin, Al Johnson's Swedish Restaurant . I have many wonderful memories there, eating delicious food and admiring the goats on the roof. In spite of what my Norwegian grandmother insisted, we do have Swedish ancestors, so it was fun to set a picture there!

Learn more on the website: womenof1000ad.weebly.com/gunnb…

Others in the series include...

The Cacica and the Water Bearer (Colombia)
The Dog Breeder of Desolation Sound (Canada)
Ladies Li, Liu and Yang (China)
Queen Heonae (Korea)
Maga'håga (Guam)
The Lovers of Amesbury Abbey (England)
Ayagigux' (Alaska)
Hrugs 'or za (Tibet)
The Royal Dancer of Gao (Mali)

Bharima (Bangladesh)

Description

Ásmundr and Farthegn erected this stone in memory of Thorketill of Vattrång, their father. Gunnborga the Good carved this stone.

Carving a runestone was no easy task. Only the most skilled of stonemasons were commissioned for these monumental works of art. The stone had to be quarried, dressed, carved, and painted. Runes and images of fantastical beasts and heavenly symbols wound their way around runestones' edges, spelling out stories of family and heartbreak, love and war, travel and revelation. The stones became major milestones in the landscape. They marked memory permanently in bold strokes of stone, looming over roads and bridges as a reminder of those who came before.

Most of the runemasters who made these stones were men - but not all of them. Around the turn of the 11th century, two brothers called Ásmundr and Farthegn approached their local runemaster in Jättendal, a settlement in the Swedish region of Hälsingland. Their father Thorketill had recently passed away, and they were looking to raise a stone in his memory. It was a custom that stretched back centuries into the pagan past, but Thorketill had been a man of the new faith. Although Christian missionaries had been visiting Sweden since the ninth century, it was only in the past few years that Sweden had seen its first Christian king, Olof Skötkonung. King Olof founded churches and even a bishopric, but in the year 1000, there were still many Swedes who weren't Christian.

Unlike the Norwegian king Olaf Tryggvason, who was aggressive about conversion across his empire, Olof did not force his subjects to convert to Christianity. In fact, according to the 11th century historian Adam of Bremen, Olof reached an agreement with the pagan priests of Uppsala Temple that he would never force anyone to convert to Christianity. He seems to have kept his word, for while there was later violence between pagan and Christian Swedes, it happened generations after his time. Nevertheless, there were some Swedes who were already converting around 1000, following the lead of their king. Ásmundr and Farthegn wanted their father's memorial stone to reflect his embrace of the new faith. They wanted a stone that would glorify both their father's memory and their Christian faith. Only the most skilled craftsperson could complete their commission - and so they sought out Gunnborga the Good.

Gunnborga is known to us only from the stone she made for the two brothers. While it was fairly common for runemasters to sign their work, Gunnborga is one of the only women who ever did. It's possible that other runestones in the area of Hälsingland were made by Gunnborga but left unsigned. Her work is in the earliest style of Christian runestone, suggesting it was made between AD 980 and 1015. Thorketill and his sons may have been some of the first Christian converts in Sweden. Although most of the design on the stone Gunnborga made them is missing, there remains the outline of a single cross. The rest of the surviving design is the inscription which snakes around the perimeter of the stone, commemorating Thorketill for posterity.

Was Gunnborga herself a Christian? It's possible, even probable. But given the easy relationship between pagans and Christians in Sweden at this time, she may not have been. We know very little about the lives of runemasters, even though we know some of their names. They were probably of an elevated class compared to the average commoner, given their literacy in runes and their training in making mythological and religious designs. They were also probably employed as stonemasons more generally. Some inherited the trade from their fathers, while others clearly studied the works of runemasters from past generations to learn the craft. We can guess from Gunnborga's epithet "the Good", which she proudly included in her signature, that she was a member of an elite class. It referred not to her skill per se, but to her status as an important and virtuous member of the local community. Her clients were likewise relatively wealthy since they could afford to commission a runestone.

The other women who carved runestones leave us even fewer clues about their identities. A woman who lived in the Norse-controlled Isle of Man carved the name of Jesus onto an old memorial runestone, signing off with the words "Þúríðr carved the runes." Unlike Gunnborga, Þúríðr might not have been a runemaster, since she merely left her mark on an existing stone rather than creating a new one. In a few other cases, researchers have been able to determine through grammatical inference that some damaged inscriptions were carved by women, even though their names don't fully survive. One such woman carved a runestone just about twenty miles north of where Gunnborga made hers. Her name was probably Ásgegarðr, and all that remains of her inscription is that she "struck the runes." All in all, there are no more than a dozen runestones which we can safely say were probably carved by women. Still, the existence of these female runemasters tells us that even if they were a minority, they were respected masters of their craft.

In this illustration, Gunnborga is just finished off signing a runestone commission. Her rich jewellery, including two tortoise shell brooches and beads of glass and amber, signifies her high status. Completely absorbed in her task, she carefully chisels away the granite. In the next millennium to come, the stone will weather all sorts of trials, from winter storms to church fires. But through it all, the words she painstakingly made will survive: Gunnborga the Good carved this stone.

This one took me a long time, so it's good to finally finish it! I just can't get over how cool it is to think about female runemasters. The pose was really hard. I looked at a lot of photographs and videos of people making recreation medieval stone carvings, particularly Pictish stones in Scotland, for reference. Many thanks to SachiiA for help with the pose too. The size of the stone and runes in proportion to Gunnborga are not exact - that's what artistic license is for!

The house in the background is based on one in the Foteviken Viking Museum in Sweden. I also took inspiration from my favourite restaurant in Wisconsin, Al Johnson's Swedish Restaurant . I have many wonderful memories there, eating delicious food and admiring the goats on the roof. In spite of what my Norwegian grandmother insisted, we do have Swedish ancestors, so it was fun to set a picture there!

Learn more on the website: womenof1000ad.weebly.com/gunnb…

Others in the series include...

The Cacica and the Water Bearer (Colombia)
The Dog Breeder of Desolation Sound (Canada)
Ladies Li, Liu and Yang (China)
Queen Heonae (Korea)
Maga'håga (Guam)
The Lovers of Amesbury Abbey (England)
Ayagigux' (Alaska)
Hrugs 'or za (Tibet)
The Royal Dancer of Gao (Mali)

Bharima (Bangladesh)