Savannah’s Telfair Academy: Classical Casts, Impressionism and the Bird Girl

Housed in an 1818 Regency-style mansion, the Telfair Academy is the oldest art museum in the South. A can’t-miss stop in Savannah for art lovers, history buffs and fans of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.

The Telfair Academy sits on the east side of Telfair Square, and is a short walk from West Broughton Street.

There’s just something about Savannah, Georgia: the moss-draped live oaks, the historic squares, and the beautiful architecture always draw us back. It’s a living, breathing city that honors its past while still looking toward the future.

Wally and I had visited Savannah many times before — wandering through the artsy, emerging Starland District, strolling up and down Broughton, and popping into the SCAD gift shop more than once. This time though, we decided to visit the Telfair Museums, which included the Telfair Academy and the Owens-Thomas House & Slave Quarters. 

When we arrived at the Telfair Academy of Arts and Sciences, we were greeted by the towering sculptures of Phidias, Michelangelo, Raphael, Rembrandt, and Rubens. Hewn from limestone by Austrian sculptor Viktor Tilgner, each figure stands seven feet, six inches tall. Their commanding presence at the entrance to the stately edifice set the perfect tone for what awaited us inside.

We ascended the steps of the central porch and purchased our tickets at the museum gift shop, which included admission to all three museums: the Telfair Academy, the Jepson Center & Telfair Children’s Art Museum , and the Owens-Thomas House.

Portrait of Dr. George Jones by Rembrandt Peale, 1834

The History of the Telfair Academy of Arts and Sciences

The story of the South’s oldest public art museum begins with the death of Mary Telfair, the last surviving member of one of Savannah’s most prominent antebellum families. When she passed away on June 2, 1875, at the age of 84, she entrusted her Regency-style residence and its contents, along with a generous portion of her personal fortune, to the Georgia Historical Society. Her will stipulated that the home be converted into an institution dedicated to introducing art and culture to the public.  

Fun fact: Mary Telfair’s bequest establishing the Telfair Academy preceded the idea for New York City’s Metropolitan Museum of Art by just one month, which was conceived by a group of men in Paris on July 4, 1866.

But instead of opening its doors, the house stood silent, caught in legal limbo for nearly a decade. Distant relatives challenged her will, alleging that she was not of sound mind. The dispute dragged on until it reached the U.S. Supreme Court, which ultimately upheld her wishes in Jones v. Habersham in 1883.

With the legal hurdles cleared, the Society’s board appointed the academically trained Carl Ludwig Brandt as the museum’s first director. A German-born painter who had crossed the Atlantic in 1852, Brandt was a trusted friend of Mary’s younger sister, Margaret Telfair Hodgson. In 1874, she commissioned him to paint a portrait of her late husband, William Brown Hodgson. That painting was unveiled at the 1876 dedication ceremony for Hodgson Hall, which Margaret had built in her husband’s memory to house the Society’s collections and library.  

Perhaps it was this connection that convinced the board, and Brandt found himself tasked with the daunting job of converting the home into a cultural institution. He was given $20,000 (about $640,000 today) and passage across the Atlantic to procure works that would shape the museum’s permanent collection: engravings, oil paintings, full-scale plaster replicas of classical statuary, and casts of the Parthenon frieze and east pediment.

When Brandt returned, the board brought on architect Detlef Lienau to enlarge and adapt the home for its new purpose. Lienau removed the original staircase, raised the roofline, expanded the skylight, and effectively doubled the building’s size. Where the garden and former slave quarters once stood, he added a sculpture gallery at street level, topped by a rotunda to showcase the works Brandt had acquired in Europe.

On May 3, 1886, the former family residence officially reopened as the Telfair Academy of Arts and Sciences, marking a bold new chapter in Southern cultural history as the first museum in the United States to be founded by a woman.

Entrance Hall and Octagon Reception Room

The entrance hall of the Academy bears little resemblance to the original house. Lienau replaced the pine floors with marble and widened the passage to allow guests to move freely through what had once been a private residence. Today, the central corridor displays a range of works — from Harriet Hyatt Mayor’s 1915 bronze sculpture Art and Science to notable examples of 20th century American and French Impressionism and beyond.  

Three Shack Landscape by Hughie Lee-Smith, 1947

Hughie Lee-Smith’s haunting surrealistic painting Three Shack Landscape depicts three weathered shacks — one dark brown, one red and one green — standing along a desolate, rocky shoreline beneath heavy blue and gray clouds. A burst of light cuts through, illuminating the dunes and stones around them, while in the foreground a lone pole with a twisted wire juts toward the sky, heightening the sense of isolation.

Lee-Smith was born in Eustis, Florida in 1915 and spent part of his youth in Atlanta before moving to Ohio, where he graduated from the Cleveland School of Art in 1938. After a brief stint in the Navy stationed on the Great Lakes Naval Training Center during World War II, he briefly taught art in South Carolina before settling in Detroit, where economic opportunities for African Americans were more abundant. 

Lee-Smith moved to New York City in 1958, where he taught at the Art Students League. In 1967, he reached a milestone as the second Black artist to be elected to full membership in the National Academy of Design.

Le port de la Rochelle by Gaston Balande, 1949

French impressionist painter Gaston Balande’s Le port de la Rochelle captures a lively view of the harbor in La Rochelle, a historic seaport on France’s Atlantic coast. Painted around 1949, the piece reflects the influence of Paul Cézanne, particularly in his exploration of color, line, and form. Rather than relying on traditional perspective and chiaroscuro, light and shade techniques that defined Western art since the Renaissance, Balande used these elements to create depth and solidity. 

Marketing by Robert Gwathmey, 1943

Robert Gwathmey was an American social realist painter known for his depictions of rural life in the American South, particularly the plight of African American sharecroppers. Born in Richmond, Virginia, in 1903, Gwathmey was deeply influenced by his experiences and observations of the South. In 1944, he spent time working alongside sharecroppers in Rocky Mount, North Carolina, to better understand their lives and challenges. 

Like his contemporaries Jacob Lawrence and Ben Shahn, Gwathmey developed an abstracted figurative style. He utilized bold geometric shapes, flat planes of vibrant color, and minimal shading to convey his social commentary. This approach emphasized form and composition over naturalistic detail, giving his works a powerful and visually striking impact. 

Jerry by Emma Cheves Wilkins, 1944

Octagon Reception Room

At the front of the Academy is the Octagon Reception Room. Once a traditional period room, it’s been reimagined to host the exhibition One Museum, Many Facades: Telfair Through the Ages. The walls still feature a rare, surviving example of early 19th century trompe-l'œil wood graining, a highly realistic, illusionistic painting technique that was popular when the mansion was built in 1818. 

The room’s sparse décor makes the portrait of Jerry Dickerson above the fireplace mantle all the more special. Savannah artist Emma Cheves Wilkins painted it around 1942, shortly before Dickerson’s retirement after more than 25 years as a janitor at the Academy. This work captures him in his recognizable work attire: a collared shirt, tie, pin, apron and feather duster in hand. He lived in the basement offices, the former slave quarters and carriage house for the mansion.

After leaving the Octagon Reception Room, we passed the former Dining Room, which was undergoing restoration. Continuing down the hall, we came upon a set of staircases with ornate iron railings.

The view of the Sculpture Gallery from the top of the stairs reveals a subtle distinction in the flooring. The lighter-colored area on the marble floor marks the spot once occupied by a fountain installed in 1966 and removed in 1973. 

The Sculpture Gallery

One set of stairs leads to the upper level, while the other descends into the Sculpture Gallery. We took the latter, and the moment we entered, my eyes were drawn to the dramatic plaster cast of Laocoön and His Sons — a copy of the famous Hellenistic masterpiece, which dominates the center of the gallery. Discovered in Rome in 1506 and now housed in the Vatican Museums, the sculpture depicts the Trojan priest Laocoön and his sons, Antiphantes and Thymbraeus, locked in a desperate struggle against deadly sea serpents.

When it first opened, the gallery displayed more than 70 plaster cast reproductions of classical sculptures, including the colossal Toro Farnese, which depicts the myth of Dirce, a cruel queen who was tied to a wild bull and dragged to her death by Amphion and Zethus for their mistreatment of their mother, Antiope.

There’s an unverified rumor that sometime in the 1970s, an Academy curator hosted a “sledgehammer party,” where guests were invited to destroy several of the institution’s large plaster casts. While it makes for a colorful story, there’s no proof to support it.

What almost certainly did happen is less dramatic: artistic tastes changed, and as the museum acquired more original works, the collection was gradually reduced, and in some cases destroyed, due to the high cost of maintaining them.

Pudicita, 1st century BCE (cast made before 1893)

Many of the works now displayed on the walls of the Sculpture Gallery were acquired through the efforts of Julius Garibaldi “Gari” Melchers, an American artist who served as the Academy’s fine arts advisor after Brandt. During his tenure, he acquired more than 70 works for the permanent collection, including many of the museum’s most treasured American Impressionist and Ashcan School paintings.

Stuyvesant Square in Winter, by Ernest Lawson, 1907

Brooklyn Bridge in Winter by Childe Hassam, 1904

After returning from Paris in 1889, American Impressionist painter Childe Hassam frequently turned his attention to New York City as a subject of his art. The city’s dynamic urban life provided ample inspiration for his work. In Brooklyn Bridge in Winter, Hassam employs pastel colors, a high vantage point, and broken brushstrokes — formal elements characteristic of Impressionism. This style, which he adopted during his time studying in Paris, emphasizes capturing the fleeting effects of light and atmosphere. Like the French Impressionists, Hassam was committed to portraying contemporary subjects drawn from daily life, and New York’s vibrant streets offered him endless material.

Vespers by Gari Melchers, 1892

Vespers contains all the hallmarks of  Melchers’s early work: rural Dutch subject matter, a vibrant and colorful palette, and a keen interest in decorative pattern and texture. In this painting Melchers portrays Dutch villagers as hardworking, strong, and devout, tapping into a nostalgic yearning for traditional rural life during a time of rapid industrialization. The painting was originally owned by Walther Rathenau, an industrialist, writer and politician from Berlin who helped found the German Democratic Party.

Landscape grouping, with Shaghead by George Wesley Bellows and By the River by István Boznay, 1913 

Lingering Snows by Willard Leroy Metcalf, 1924

In this panoramic view of mountains and a stream, Willard Leroy Metcalf captures the serene beauty of a New England spring. The painting showcases his signature Impressionist style, characterized by subtle harmonies of green and purple tones that evoke the gentle light of the season. This relatively large canvas was likely painted on site in Woodstock, Vermont, on the Ottauquechee River. Metcalf employs quick, textured brushstrokes, allowing the canvas to show through, to define the trees and left shore. Thicker paint applied with a palette knife in a blend of salmon and lime represents the sky, while soft, lightly mottled colors depict the river, the right shore, and the deep blue mountain shadow. Most striking is the irregular patch of snow resting in the upper right mountain dale, its whiteness matched only by the reflected white clouds in the river.

The Rotunda Gallery

We made our way back up the stairs and into the Rotunda Gallery: a breathtaking, spacious two-story room designed by Brandt and Lienau to emulate the grandeur of a 19th century European salon. Artworks in this style are hung close together on the walls, as opposed to being spaced out individually. 

Grouping featuring works by Adolf Lüben, Robert Seldon Duncanson, George Majewicz and Guido Von Maffei

Look up, and you’ll see four paintings by Brandt positioned at the cardinal points of the gallery. Each work depicts a master of one of the four primary art forms, according to his view: Apelles for painting (west), Iktinos for architecture (north), Praxiteles for sculpture (east), and Albrecht Dürer for printmaking (south). The inclusion of three Ancient Greek artists reflects the late 19th century reverence for classical art and culture.

The Black Prince at Crécy by Julian Russell Story, 1888

Brandt purchased the impressive The Black Prince at Crécy from the artist Julian Story in 1889. Brandt acquired the painting with his own funds and donated it to the museum upon his death. The dramatic work portrays the aftermath of the Battle of Crécy during the Hundred Years’ War, and contrasts the historic figure of the Black Prince (the Prince of Wales) with the lifeless body of the fallen King John of Bohemia, highlighting the clash of heroism and tragedy on the battlefield.

La Parabola by Cesare Laurenti, 1895

Cesare Laurenti was born near Ferrara, Italy, but spent most of his life in Venice — the setting of La Parabola. In Laurenti’s day, German artists nicknamed the work Lebensbrücke, or Bridge of Life. 

In a letter to Brandt, Laurenti explained that the painting was meant to reflect the course of human life, “the race toward pleasure, until clouds of weighty thoughts and sorrow come to disturb the serenity of the young soul.” 

The first part of the scene is a lively celebration: two young men invite a group of young women to join in songs and laughter. At a doorway, a suitor representing Love kisses a girl’s cheek as she steps inside. 

But the mood soon darkens. The same girl, now pensive, appears behind a window, her youth already fading. The scene then shifts to the entrance of a church, where “poor suffering souls seek relief.” Here, Laurenti wrote, “one can see the man, who, clad in priestly garments, represents Faith.”

Jour de régates, Menton (Regatta Day, Menton) by Alfred E. Stevens, 1894

A view of the upper gallery, with a plaster casting of part of the frieze from the Parthenon in Athens, Greece

Second Floor Galleries 

Upstairs, the rooms that once served as the Telfair family’s bedrooms were converted into galleries and feature works from the Academy’s permanent collections as well as temporary exhibitions. To make space for hanging art, original features like windows and fireplaces were covered up, leaving wide, uninterrupted walls for display.

The first two galleries held the ongoing exhibit Craft Along the Coast and included works from Telfair’s permanent collection that date from the 18th to the late 20th centuries. The first gallery presents examples of woodworking, ceramics and painting, while the second focuses on Savannah’s silversmithing traditions. Both galleries tell stories of markets and craft legacies, helping to draw lines of continuity through a dynamic history.

Old City Market by Augusta Denk Oelschig, 1950

Savannah native Augusta Denk Oelschig painted Old City Market, a lively portrayal of the City Market building that occupied Ellis Square from about 1872 to 1953. In the scene, the market pulses with life: Shoppers, vendors, produce stands and even animals are in motion across the square. 

When the building was razed in 1954, the loss galvanized the community, and helped spark the creation of the Historic Savannah Foundation the next year, which continues to protect and preserve the city’s historic architecture. 

In 1947, during a trip to Mexico, Oelschig met muralists Diego Rivera and José Clemente Orozco, whose work left a lasting impression on her. Inspired by the political and social themes in their art, she returned to Savannah with plans for a mural depicting the history of Georgia. Intended for the Savannah High School, her drafts included imagery of Ku Klux Klan members whipping African Americans and a reference to a politician later associated with the the Klan. Unsurprisingly, the school’s conservative officials rejected the proposal.

Savannah by Andrée Ruellan, 1942

In Savannah, Andrée Ruellan captures the view of the river seen between buildings and down a cobblestone ramp that leads to the wharves. The painting’s small figures (including a man with a cane and a vendor with children) evoke the quiet, everyday life of the waterfront rather than a bustling port. 

Savannah’s riverfront historically relied on ramps (Barnard, Bull, Abercorn, Lincoln, etc.) down to River Street and its wharves, which is exactly the kind of setting Ruellan sketched. The waterfront was also a center for local craft traditions; Savannah has a documented history of woodcarving and walking-stick makers.  

The iconic Bird Girl. Her outstretched arms don’t actually symbolize the weighing of good and evil — the shallow bowls in her upturned hands were intended to hold water and birdseed. 

The Bird Girl of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil Fame

I was especially intrigued by the gallery featuring Before Midnight: Bonaventure and the Bird Girl. It showcases artwork from Bonaventure Cemetery, including the famous statue. 

Created in 1936 by Sylvia Shaw Judson, a sculptor from Lake Forest, Illinois, Bird Girl was first exhibited in 1938 at the Art Institute of Chicago under the title Girl With Bowls. Judson originally cast six versions, one in lead and five in bronze, but later stated that only four bronze casts were ever made. 

One of the original bronzes was purchased by Savannah native Lucy Boyd Trosdal and installed in her family’s plot in Bonaventure Cemetery, where it was affectionately nicknamed “Little Wendy.”

For decades, the statue remained largely unnoticed — until photographer Jack Leigh captured its haunting image at dusk for the cover of John Berendt’s bestselling nonfiction novel Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, thrusting “Little Wendy” and the city into the national spotlight. Concerned about the crowds it began to attract, Trosdal removed the statue from the cemetery and loaned it to the Academy, ensuring it would be protected for future generations.

Fun fact: Jim Williams, the central figure in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, wasn’t just a successful antiques dealer and historic preservationist — he also served as president of the Telfair Academy.

An iron gate fragment from Bonaventure Cemetery hangs on the wall. 

Bonaventure by Louis Bouché, 1969

Bonaventure Cemetery by Henry Clernewerck, 1860

Plaster bust of the Academy’s first director, Carl Brandt, by John Walz, 1891

Stay Awhile: Interiors in Art 

The last gallery featured a selection of paintings from the Academy’s permanent collection that focused on interior settings. 

Rather than emphasizing a specific narrative, the labels beside each painting encouraged visitors to form their own interpretations of the works. 

The Lacemakers by Walter MacEwen, 1900

In The Lacemakers, three seated Dutch women are engaged in tatting the edges of a large piece of white fabric. Behind them, a man stands by a window, smoking a pipe and staring at the woman on the left, who seems lost in thought. The palette is dominated by muted, silvery tones, enlivened by the bright red bodices of two of the women and the tiny potted flowers on the windowsills.

A native of Chicago, Walter MacEwen had originally planned to pursue a career in business, but an unexpected event changed the course of his life.

When a destitute painter asked MacEwen for a small loan, the artist left his paint and brushes as collateral. He never returned to collect them, and MacEwen began to experiment with the abandoned materials.

By 1877 he had departed for Europe, where he studied under Frank Duveneck at the Royal Academy in Munich, and later at the Académie Julian in Paris. By the mid-1880s, MacEwen had established studios in Paris and Holland spending sixty years in Europe before returning to the United States in 1939. 

Café Fortune Teller by Mary Hoover Aiken, 1933 

The style of Café Fortune Teller evokes elements of American scene painting, characterized by its focus on everyday life and its narrative quality. The work was completed on the island of Ibiza prior to the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War and depicts the artist reading her own fortune amidst the bustle of a café. In 1936, Mary Hoover met the Savannah-born poet Conrad Aiken, whom she married in 1937. Her later works included portraits of famed author T.S. Eliot and British painter Edward Burra, and she also had solo exhibitions at the Telfair in 1964 and 1975.

Wally and I visited on a weekday and spent about 90 minutes exploring the galleries and browsing the gift shop. Admission for adults was $30, valid for seven days from the date of purchase and offers access to all three museums. –Duke

Telfair Academy Visitor Information

Hours of Operation

Open Wednesday through Monday, 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.  
Closed on Tuesdays  

Admission Fees

Tickets grant unlimited access to all three Telfair museums (Telfair Academy, Jepson Center and Owens-Thomas House) for seven days from the date of purchase. 

Adult: $30  
Senior (65+): $27  
Active military (with ID): $27  
Student (ages 13 to 25, with ID): $20  
Child (ages 6 to 12): $10  
Child (5 and under): Free  

Accessibility and Visitor Services

Wheelchair accessible: Yes. Entrance is on the south side facing President Street (with nearby accessible parking and elevator access).  

Sketching: Allowed with pencil only; sketchbooks no larger than 8½ by 11 inches. No easels or sitting on the floor.  

Photography: Non-flash photography is permitted for personal use unless otherwise posted. Tripods, selfie sticks, lights and other gear are prohibited.  

Checkroom policy: Bags larger than 11 by 14 inches must be checked. Laptops and luggage are not accepted.  

Strollers: Restricted in the historic Telfair Academy and Owens-Thomas House but welcome at the Jepson Center.  

Why You Should Visit the Telfair Academy

Historical significance: Established in 1886, it’s one of the first public art museums in the U.S. and the first in the South.  

Architectural beauty: A Regency-style mansion designed by English architect William Jay (built 1818 to 1820).  

Collections and highlights: 19th and 20th century American and European art, restored period rooms, decorative arts and the famed Bird Girl statue.  

Telfair Academy 

121 Barnard Street 
Savannah, Georgia 31401
USA

 

The Enchanting and Perilous World of the Fae

Explore the hidden world of fairies — from pixies and brownies to elves and gnomes. Discover why these mysterious beings captivate imaginations … and what secrets lie just beyond the mortal realm.

The Seelie Queen on her thornwood throne

There are places in this world where the veil between realms grows thin: a lonely stretch of moorland, a glade deep in the woods, a ring of mushrooms. 

But beware, for the Fae are not the charming, glitter-winged sprites of modern fairy tales. They’re older than memory, creatures of wild magic, bound to no human morality. They can bless you with impossible luck or curse you with misfortune that lingers for generations. Some are beautiful beyond compare — slender and radiant, with eyes like moonlit pools. Others are twisted things, hunched and sharp-toothed, watching from the shadows.

To stumble upon the Fae is to risk losing yourself. Accept their gifts, and you may find they come at a terrible price. Eat their food, and you may never leave their world. Speak too freely, and they may steal your name, your shadow or your very soul. And if you are very unlucky or unwise — if the music lures you in, if the golden-haired stranger takes your hand — you may wake to find a hundred years have passed while you danced, and everyone you once knew is dust.

Yet still, we seek them out. We leave out offerings of milk and honey at Beltane, Litha and Samhain, whisper our wishes into the wind, and step just a little too close to the edge of the veil, hoping for a glimpse of something otherworldly.

Across the globe, countless myths and legends speak of these elusive beings, each culture shaping its own version of the Fae. Some are noble, some monstrous, some little more than a trick of the light. But one truth remains: The Fae are watching. And if you’re not careful, they may just take notice of you.

Fairy Folklore Around the World

In different cultures, stories of the Fae take many forms — some enchanting, some terrifying, all captivating. Whether they’re the luminous Sidhe of Ireland, the cunning yōkai of Japan, or the water-dwelling rusalki of Slavic lore, fairies defy easy categorization. They’re both protectors and tricksters, wise beings and dangerous predators, granting favors with one hand and snatching them away with the other.

Let’s step into the shadowy glens and moonlit crossroads where the Fae linger, exploring how different cultures have imagined these otherworldly creatures — and where you might still find traces of them today.

The Tuatha Dé Danann, or Sidhe, riding their spectral horses

The Tuatha Dé Danann and Irish Fairies

Beneath the rolling green hills of Ireland, hidden within ancient mounds and hollowed-out trees, dwell the Sidhe (pronounced “Shee”), the Shining Ones. These are no fluttering pixies, but tall, radiant beings, their beauty almost painful to behold. Clad in shimmering garments, their eyes hold the weight of centuries, and their voices carry the echoes of forgotten songs.

The Tuatha Dé Danann, Ireland’s old gods, were said to have retreated into the earth after their defeat, becoming the Sidhe of legend. They ride out on spectral horses, sweeping mortals away in a fever dream of music and revelry. Some who enter their world return, forever changed; others vanish without a trace.

Not all Irish fairies are so regal. The púca, a shapeshifter, appears as a sleek black horse with burning eyes, a rabbit, or even a goblin-like creature with long fingers and an unsettling grin. 

The banshee, with her silver hair and wailing cries, is a harbinger of death, while changelings — sickly, eerie children left in place of stolen human babies — are a reminder of the Fae’s more sinister tendencies.

A banshee’s wail means someone you love is about to die.

Irish Fae in Popular Tales

• The Stolen Child by W.B. Yeats captures the allure of the fairies, calling children away to a land of “waters and the wild.”

• In The Call by Peadar Ó Guilín, modern teenagers are abducted into the Grey Land of the Sidhe, where they must survive deadly hunts.

• Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke presents a version of the Fae as manipulative and powerful, with the Gentleman with the Thistledown Hair embodying their eerie and unpredictable nature.

The Unseelie Court is home to the more malevolent fairy folk.

Scottish Fairy Lore and the Seelie and Unseelie Courts

In Scotland, the fairy realm is split into two factions: the Seelie Court, filled with fairies who are mischievous but not entirely malevolent, and the Unseelie Court, where malevolence runs rampant.

Seelie fairies might grant favors to those who respect them, though their “gifts” often have unintended consequences. The Unseelie, however, are another matter entirely. These fairies lurk at crossroads and lonely moors, hunting in packs and carrying off travelers who wander too close to their domain.

Among them are the redcaps, murderous goblins that dwell in ruined towers, their caps stained with the blood of their victims. 

The kelpies, sleek black water-horses, lure riders onto their backs before dragging them into the depths. 

And the brownies, small, shaggy-haired house spirits, help with household chores — so long as they are respected and well fed.

A helpful brownie

Scottish Fae in Popular Tales

• Tam Lin, a classic Scottish ballad, tells of a mortal man, stolen away by the Fairy Queen, who can only be rescued through a terrifying midnight ritual.

• In The Falconer by Elizabeth May, Scottish fairies are reimagined as deadly creatures warring against humans.

• The Unseelie Court’s dangerous and dark magic is woven into Holly Black’s The Cruel Prince series, where the Fae are as beautiful as they are treacherous.

A plague of pesky pixies

English and Welsh Fairies: Tricksters, Ghosts and the Wild Hunt

In the misty forests and moors of England and Wales, the fairy folk take on many forms — some charming, some terrifying, all deeply tied to the land.

The pixies of Devon and Cornwall are small, impish creatures with pointed ears and mischievous grins, known for leading travelers astray with will-o’-the-wisps or tangling horses’ manes into fairy knots. Unlike their Irish or Scottish counterparts, they’re more playful than malicious, though they can still cause trouble if insulted. 

But the Fae of England aren’t all harmless. The Wild Hunt, a spectral procession of ghostly riders led by a dark figure — sometimes the Devil himself, sometimes the mythic Herne the Hunter — thunders across the sky, sweeping up any mortal unlucky enough to cross its path. 

Meanwhile, the Green Children of Woolpit, a medieval legend, tell of two strange, green-skinned kids who appeared in a village, speaking an unknown language and claiming to be from an underground world. Were they lost fairies?

Even the land itself is said to be enchanted. The Fairy Paths, invisible roads used by the Fae, must never be obstructed by buildings, or bad luck will follow. 

The Fairy Godmothers of later fairy tales may have originated from old beliefs in household fairies, protective spirits who could bestow gifts or curses on infants.

British Fae in Popular Tales

• Susanna Clarke’s The Ladies of Grace Adieu reimagines English fairy lore with eerie and elegant storytelling.

• Terry Pratchett’s Lords and Ladies features fairies that are predatory and cruel, a nod to their older, darker origins.

• The legend of the Wild Hunt plays a major role in Katherine Arden’s The Winter of the Witch and Hellboy comics. 

• Pixies show up in the Harry Potter series and the game Harry Potter: Wizards Unite. 

The Álfar, tall, luminous, godlike entities, influenced the elves of Tolkien and D&D.

Norse and Germanic Fairies: Elves, Forest Spirits and the Nachtmahr

Long before fairies flitted through English gardens, the Norse and Germanic peoples told of the Álfar, or elves: tall, eerily beautiful beings who lived in hidden places and wielded great magic. Unlike later fairies, these elves were closer to minor gods, capable of both great kindness and great wrath. In some sagas, they were luminous, golden-haired beings; in others, they were pale and unsettling, dwelling in mist-shrouded groves and demanding offerings.

But not all the hidden folk were so noble. The nachtmahr, a twisted shadow spirit, crept into homes at night, sitting on the chests of sleepers and filling their dreams with terror; our word nightmare comes from this legend. 

The erlking, a malevolent woodland fairy, lured children to their doom with whispered promises, immortalized in Goethe’s haunting poem.

Then there were the kobolds, household spirits that could be either helpful or destructive. Resembling small, gnome-like figures, they lived in homes and ships, protecting the inhabitants if treated well, but turning mischievous or even vengeful if neglected. Some German miners believed kobolds lived in the mines, warning workers of cave-ins — or causing them.

The helpful kobolds of folklore and much different from the lizard-like monsters from D&D.

Norse and German Fae in Popular Tales

• The erlking appears in literature from Goethe’s poetry to Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files, always as a chillingly powerful figure.

• Tolkien’s elves, with their captivating beauty and ancient wisdom, owe much to Norse and Germanic fairy lore.

• Neil Gaiman’s Norse Mythology explores the strange, otherworldly side of the Álfar. (Learn more about the Norse gods.)

A rusalka, the spirit of a drowned young woman, wants men to share her fate.

Slavic Fairies and the Rusalka: Spirits of Water and Wood

Slavic folklore is thick with spirits, many of whom blur the line between fairy, ghost and demon. The rusalka is one of the most haunting: a drowned maiden with pale, luminous skin and long, green-tinted hair, she lingers near lakes and rivers, singing to lure men into the depths. Some legends say she’s vengeful, dragging victims under; others say she’s  simply lonely, forever searching for a lost love.

Then there are the domovoi, small, hairy house spirits with glowing eyes. Unlike the trickster fairies of the British Isles, a domovoi was a family guardian, keeping the household safe — so long as it was honored with milk, bread and respect. A neglected domovoi could become vengeful, making life miserable for the home’s inhabitants.

In the dark forests, the leshy reigns: a towering, moss-covered figure with bark for skin and eyes like glowing embers. He’s the master of the woods, able to shift size at will. Travelers who fail to pay their respects may find themselves lost for days, their paths twisting back on themselves under the leshy’s watchful gaze.

The leshy, shapeshifting master of the woods

Slavic Fae in Popular Tales

• The Bear and the Nightingale by Katherine Arden weaves Slavic fairy spirits like the domovoi and rusalka into a lush historical fantasy.

• The leshy appears in numerous Russian fairy tales and in modern fantasy, including The Witcher series.

• The eerie, dreamlike world of the rusalka is captured in Alexander Pushkin’s poetry and Dvořák’s opera.

The diwata and engkantos of the Philippines can be kind or cruel, depending on how you treat them.

The Fairies of Other Cultures

Fairy-like beings exist worldwide, often blending nature spirits, ancestral ghosts and mischievous tricksters.

Tengu love to mess with overly proud samurai — creating illusions, stealing weapons or dragging them into duels they can’t win. I

Japanese Yōkai: Creatures like kodama, tree spirits that live in ancient forests, or tengu, bird-like beings who trick travelers and test warriors, share many fairy-like qualities.

Filipino Diwata and Engkantos: Often compared to elves, these spirits of the forests and mountains can be either generous or cruel, depending on how they’re treated.

African and Caribbean Spirits: Figures like the tokoloshe in South Africa — a small, goblin-like trickster — bear similarities to European goblins and sprites.

The trickster tokoloshe from South Africa

Fae From Around the World in Popular Tales

• Spirited Away, the Studio Ghibli film, is a masterful portrayal of Japanese fairies and spirits.

• The Girl From the Well by Rin Chupeco draws on Japanese and Filipino ghost fairy traditions.

• Nalo Hopkinson’s Brown Girl in the Ring weaves Caribbean folklore into a dystopian fairy tale.

Fairy Rings, Time Distortion and Other Fae-Related Mysteries

Step carefully, traveler. A ring of mushrooms in the forest, a strange circle of scorched grass on the moors, an ancient oak with a hollow just large enough for a child to crawl through — these are signs that the Fae have been here. And if you cross into their domain, you may never leave the same.

The Danger of Fairy Rings

Fairy rings are among the most famous — and most feared — phenomena in fairy lore. These naturally occurring circles of mushrooms or oddly vibrant grass are said to be the sites of fairy gatherings. Some legends claim that at night, the Fae emerge from their hidden realm to dance under the moonlight, weaving enchantments into the earth.

Stepping into a fairy ring, however, is a terrible mistake. Some say you’ll be forced to dance until you collapse from exhaustion, your mind lost in a delirium of music and light. Others warn that time within the ring doesn’t match the world outside. What feels like minutes to you might be years, decades, even centuries beyond the circle’s edge. Many a mortal has stepped inside, only to return as a withered husk or crumble into dust as soon as they leave.

Even outside of fairy rings, the Fae’s ability to warp time is well known. Travelers who accept a fairy’s hospitality — feasting in their halls, drinking their wine — often find that what seemed like a single evening was, in truth, a hundred years. The legend of Oisín, the Irish warrior who rode away with a fairy queen and returned to find his homeland changed beyond recognition, is one of the most haunting examples.

Never Accept a Fairy’s Gift

The Fae are infamous for their tricks, and one of their cruelest is the giving of gifts. A fairy’s boon may seem like a blessing — a pouch of gold coins, an enchanted flute, a charm of protection — but such gifts always come with a price. Some mortals find their gold turns to dead leaves as soon as they step out of the fairy realm. Others find themselves bound by invisible contracts, compelled to serve the Fae for eternity.

I don’t care how hungry you are — never eat anything in fairlyland.

Then there’s the matter of fairy food. It’s a well-known rule that no mortal must ever eat in the land of the Fae. To do so is to bind yourself irrevocably to their realm. Countless legends tell of mortals who took a single bite of fairy bread, only to find themselves unable to leave, their very souls woven into the fabric of that otherworldly place.

The Power of Fairy Music

Fairy music is unlike anything mortal ears have ever heard. It’s haunting, beautiful, impossible to resist. It can put a man into a trance, make a woman dance nonstop until dawn, or lull an entire village into a deep, dreamless sleep. Fiddlers and harpists in Celtic legend often claimed to have learned their skill from the Fae. But such a gift always came with a cost — many returned changed, unable to hear ordinary music without longing for the songs of the otherworld.

One of the most famous tales of fairy music is that of the Pied Piper of Hamelin, who lured away the town’s children with a tune so enchanting the kids followed him into the hills, never to be seen again. Was he simply a vengeful man — or something far older, a fairy trickster leading the children to another world?

How to Protect Yourself From the Fae

The Fae aren’t easily thwarted, but old wisdom offers a few tried-and-true defenses.

1. Iron is your best friend.

Iron is anathema to fairies, burning them like fire. A horseshoe over the door, iron nails driven into the threshold of a home, or even a simple iron key in your pocket can keep them at bay. Many believe that the industrial age — full of iron railways and steel buildings — was what finally drove the fairies into hiding.

2. Keep salt, rowan and red thread handy. 

A circle of salt around your home is said to keep fairies from crossing the boundary. Rowan wood, especially in the form of a staff or cross, is a sacred protector against fairy mischief. And red thread tied around your wrist or doorknob prevents enchantments and bewitchment.

3. Never give your name.

Names have power. If a fairy learns your true name, they can control you, call you to their realm at will, or steal your identity altogether. If you must interact with the Fae, use a false name, a nickname, or no name at all.

4. Watch what you say.

Forget those good manners instilled in you as a kid. Thanking a fairy is dangerous — it implies that a debt has been repaid, and fairies despise that. If a fairy grants you a favor, say, “This is well done” or “You have my respect,” but never, ever say “thank you.”

5. Avoid liminal spaces.

Fairies are strongest at twilight, dawn, and during the turning of the seasons (Beltane, Samhain, Midsummer). Crossroads, hollow hills and standing stones are all places where the veil is thin. Step too close, and you may step into their world without even realizing it.

How to Attract Fairies

Not all fairies are malevolent. Some are simply mischievous, while others may be persuaded to lend a little magic to those who honor them properly.

1. Leave offerings.

Fairies appreciate small gifts: bowls of milk, honey, fresh-baked bread or mead. Leave these in a quiet outdoor space, particularly near a fairy ring, a tree hollow or a stream. But never check to see if they’ve been taken; that breaks the spell.

2. Keep a wild garden.

The Fae love untamed beauty. Gardens filled with wildflowers, overgrown ivy and hidden nooks are far more likely to attract them than neat, orderly beds. Plants like foxglove, lavender and thyme are said to be especially beloved by fairies.

3. Speak in riddles and poetry.

The Fae enjoy cleverness. Those who speak in riddles, offer playful banter or recite poetry may find themselves in their favor. Beware, though: If a fairy challenges you to a game of wits and you lose, the consequences will be strange, and sudden — and never fair.

4. Wear silver or bells.

Silver is associated with moonlight and magic, and fairies are drawn to it. Small bells, often worn on clothing, were once thought to please the Fae (though some say they keep trickster spirits away).

5. Celebrate Beltane and Samhain.

These two festivals are when the Fae are closest to the mortal world. Dancing, feasting and lighting candles in their honor may win their favor. Just be careful not to invite the wrong kind.

A Spell to Connect With the Fae

If you wish to invite the presence of the Fae — gently, respectfully and understanding the risks involved — this simple spell will help you call upon their magic.

You’ll need:

• A small bowl of milk and honey (a traditional fairy offering)

• Fresh wildflowers (such as daisies, foxglove or lavender)

• A silver coin

• A candle (preferably green or white)

• A quiet place in nature, preferably near a tree, stream or fairy ring

The Ritual

As twilight falls, take your offerings to a secluded, peaceful spot where you feel a connection to nature.

Arrange the wildflowers in a small circle and place the bowl of milk and honey in the center.

Set the silver coin beside the bowl as a token of respect.

Light the candle and focus your intent on reaching out to the Fae — not to command, but to invite.

Recite the following incantation:

O spirits fair, of earth and sky,
By moon’s soft glow and stars on high,
With gift of sweet and silver bright,
I call thee forth this sacred night.

If friend ye be, then come in grace,
With laughter light and wisdom’s trace.
No harm, no trick, no ill intent,
But blessings true and magic sent.

Let the candle burn for a few moments while you listen to the sounds of the evening. If the wind stirs, if a sudden hush falls, or if you feel a shift in the air — know that the Fae may be near.

Thank them silently, then leave the offerings behind as you depart. Never look back.

A final caution: The Fae don’t grant favors lightly, nor do they take kindly to broken promises. If you feel their presence, treat them with respect. If you receive a sign — a feather, a leaf falling on you, a strange dream — consider it a gift, not a debt to be repaid.

Tread Carefully in the Land of the Fae

The Fae are as fickle as the wind, as ancient as the stones, and as unpredictable as the tide. They’re neither wholly good nor wholly evil, existing in a realm beyond human morality. They can bring fortune or misfortune with a careless flick of a hand, charm you with laughter, or steal you away in a dance that never ends.

Yet still, we seek them. We whisper our wishes into the night, leave offerings on our windowsills, and tell their stories in hushed voices. Perhaps it’s because we, too, long for the hidden places, for the unseen world just beyond our reach.

But if you hear laughter from the trees when no one’s near, or see a flicker of light dancing in the mist, remember: Step lightly, choose your words carefully, and never, ever eat the food. –Wally

The Sea Loft Treehouses of Deer Island: Sea Pine’s Hidden Gem

Where is Deer Island? This hideaway within Sea Pines Plantation feels like a secret world on stilts. These quirky octagonal “treehouse” villas have roots in radical planning, not just marsh mud.

I was about 12 years old the first time I stumbled upon the enchanting enclave of Deer Island. At the time, my family spent a week vacationing on Hilton Head Island every year, and most afternoons, my brother, the Hollister girls and I would hop on our bikes to explore the winding trails of Sea Pines. We often ended up in Harbour Town for ice cream — but now and then we’d take a detour. And that’s how we found it: the treehouses of Deer Island, hidden away, like something out of a storybook.

Years later, when my parents retired and made Hilton Head their full-time home, my husband, Duke, and I continued the tradition: going for bike rides just like I did as a kid — only now we stop for coffee, frozen cocktails and ice cream. On one of those visits, we discovered a shortcut to Harbour Town. As we pedaled along Calibogue Cay Road, looking for a secret passage to Harbour Town we had heard about, I spotted a small sign and a narrow path disappearing into the woods. Curiosity (and the promise of shade) pulled us in.

“Why octagons?

Because they’re practical and poetic. No big blank walls to block views. Every angled facet has a window or sliding glass door, offering wraparound vistas and loads of natural light.”

As we emerged from the path, the houses immediately clued us into the fact that we had found a back entrance to Deer Island. This maritime hammock surrounded by salt marsh has its road access at the other end, accessible by a wooden bridge over the colorfully named Heddy Gutter Creek near CQ’s Restaurant. 

The main entrance to Deer Island across from Harbour Town

It’s the houses on Deer Island that immediately capture your attention. Perched among the trees, and built around a central pillar, these octagonal dwellings feel like the Ewok Village on the Forest Moon of Endor. 

But these homes aren’t simply whimsical treehouses. They were part of a bold, eco-conscious vision that redefined coastal development — decades before “sustainable” became a corporate buzzword. The 74 freestanding Sea Lofts were unlike anything else on Hilton Head Island: a cross between futuristic retreat and Swiss Family Robinson hideaway.

How Sea Pines Gave Rise to a Treehouse Island

The story of Deer Island begins in 1956 with developer Charles E. Fraser, who set out to build a different kind of coastal community — one that didn’t pave over paradise to put up a parking lot. A law school graduate with a passion for conservation, Fraser turned his Sea Pines Plantation Company into a proving ground for planning principles that would go on to influence resort communities from Kiawah Island, also in South Carolina, to Costa Rica. (The word “Plantation” was eventually dropped from the name due to its associations with slavery.)

Fraser’s philosophy was simple but radical: Build around nature, not over it. That meant curving roads to preserve trees, designing low-slung homes that blended into the landscape, and enforcing strict architectural guidelines banning bright colors, boxy footprints and big egos.

“We didn’t want to build a resort,” Fraser once said. “We wanted to build a community.”

Sea Pines became a visionary experiment in eco-conscious design as well as a haven for architecture buffs, environmentalists, and anyone who prefers to sleep where the egrets (and alligators) roam.

By the late 1960s, Sea Pines was booming. The iconic red-and-white Harbour Town Lighthouse was completed in 1970, and Hilton Head was quickly becoming a premier coastal destination. Amid this growth, Fraser and his team, including renowned landscape architect Hideo Sasaki and urban designer Stuart Dawson, began sketching out something entirely different: a marshfront community that would feel like a private island while still offering access to nearby beaches, restaurants and shops.

That idea became Deer Island. Completed in 1971, it marked a bold shift in Sea Pines’ residential offerings. Instead of vacation estates, the Sea Lofts were designed to be compact, elevated and unconventional. These octagonal bungalows featured open floor plans that maximized views and minimized environmental impact. Each home overlooks a tidal creek or salt marsh, without disrupting the lush canopy of trees.

Fraser’s team believed the natural landscape should take the lead. While the rest of the island leaned into more conventional development, Deer Island embraced its own quiet charm: no shops, hardly any traffic — just birdsong, breezes and the occasional deer wandering beneath your house. Because, yes, we’ve seen plenty of deer on Deer Island.

Yes, there are plenty of deer on Deer Island — but the treehouses are the stars.

Deer Island Homes: A Style Designed to Disappear

If you’ve ever been to Sea Pines and wondered, “Where are all the houses?” — that’s the point. Deer Island takes that idea to the extreme. From across the marsh, the homes vanish into the canopy. Even up close, you might find yourself squinting through loblolly pines, palmettos and live oaks, trying to spot the angular lines of a Sea Loft villa. These houses were meant to exist in harmony with their surroundings.

Fraser and his team set strict guidelines: low rooflines, muted earthy colors and tree preservation. In fact, if you have to cut down a tree on a Sea Pines property, you’re required to plant new ones to match the original trunk’s diameter in inches. 

The result? A neighborhood that feels like it grew there — even though every detail was carefully planned, down to the last railing. 

Architecturally, it’s a style referred to as Hilton Head Modern, or sometimes, Lowcountry Modern. Think deep overhangs, shaded porches, wide windows and colors inspired by the ubiquitous live oaks. You won’t find any pink stucco or coral trim here. It’s less Miami Beach flash, more Zen retreat in the marsh.

The Octagonal Treehouses of Deer Island

Now let’s talk shape.

The Sea Loft villas are small — roughly 800 to 900 square feet — but they pack a punch. Each is octagonal, lifted one story aboveground on wooden pilings. I’m not the only one who calls them “treehouses,” and while no rope ladders are involved, the vibe is spot on.

Why octagons? Because they’re practical and poetic. No big blank walls to block views. Every angled facet has a window or sliding glass door, offering wraparound vistas and loads of natural light. Inside, the open floor plan and vaulted ceilings make the small footprint feel more spacious. 

And because the homes are up on pilings, you’re always eye level with the birds and squirrels. Beneath the houses, deer graze. As mentioned, the island lives up to its name.

On top of the views, the design is functional. The elevated structure lets floodwaters pass beneath, which is kind of a big deal on a barrier island prone to hurricanes. The shape helps diminish wind during storms. And the materials — often cedar siding, weathered to a silvery brown — hold up beautifully in salt air.

The People Behind the Planning of Deer Island

There may not be a single “starchitect” behind Deer Island, but its DNA can be traced back to a team of forward-thinking planners. Fraser may have been the frontman and public face of the project, but his collaborators included some of the most influential figures in landscape architecture and urban design of the 1960s and ’70s.

Take Sasaki, widely regarded as one of the most influential landscape architects of the 20th century. He believed that good design should serve both people and the planet — a rare point of view at the time. Working alongside his colleague Dawson at Sasaki, Dawson & DeMay, the pair helped shape Sea Pines into a model of what environmentally conscious development could look like. Dawson introduced the concept of “leisure villages” and laid out the roads in short loops, T-intersections and cul-de-sacs — not just to reduce traffic, but to preserve views and soften the human footprint. To this day, planners still point to his designs as best in class.

Supporting players included local landscape architect Joe Harden, who laid out much of Sea Pines’ lush greenery and trails, and Phil Lader, a young planner who later wrote about Fraser’s groundbreaking approach. Even the Sea Pines Architectural Review Board deserves a shoutout; they enforced the color palettes and tree preservation like they were protecting the Mona Lisa.

Still, it all comes back to Fraser. He may not have drawn every line or plotted every trail, but he set the tone — and made sure everyone followed it.

A Living Legacy (With Real Estate Perks)

Fast forward 50 years. Hilton Head has undeniably changed. Sea Pines has grown, the lighthouse area has been completely renovated, and plenty of the early homes have been replaced by larger, multimillion-dollar structures (though they still adhere to his aesthetic).

But not on Deer Island.

Here, the original 74 Sea Loft villas are still standing — weathered, yes, but proudly so. They’ve been updated inside, though, and a few have gotten modest expansions or screened-in porches. But the exteriors? Still hugging trees. Still octagonal. Still charming.

Heddy Gutter Creek. leading out to Calibogue Sound

In an industry where teardown culture reigns, Deer Island is a time capsule that’s only gained value. Buyers today are part of a design legacy. A slice of Sea Pines history. A front-row seat to the marsh.

Prices reflect that. In the past few years, sales have ranged from mid-$600,000 to just over $1 million, depending on the view and renovation level. 

Real estate agents pitch it as “immersive natural surroundings” and “private tranquility,” but you could just say: It feels good here. Like someone actually cared about how people would live — and how the land would look half a century later.

Spoiler: It looks great.

Deer Island: A Small Isle With a Big Idea

Deer Island may be small, but it punches well above its weight — architecturally, historically and spiritually. It’s a place where planners once dared to ask, “What if we didn’t bulldoze the trees?” — and then literally built the homes around (and among) them. A place where you can sip coffee on your deck while snowy egrets and blue herons glide past.

It’s Hilton Head at its most thoughtful. Most peaceful. Most quietly radical.

And in a world where luxury often means “more,” Deer Island whispers a different kind of promise: less square footage, more soul. The kind of place that still feels like a secret.

So if you ever find yourself in Sea Pines, look for that discreet entrance en route to Harbour Town and follow it. See what happens when development makes room for the wild things. You might just find yourself dreaming of life inside one of these architectural marvels like we do. –Wally

The Norse Gods: The Deities Who Knew They Would Die

Meet the Norse gods: a fierce pantheon of warlike deities, doomed heroes and mischief-makers. Learn about Odin, Thor, Loki, Freyja, and Ragnarök, the end of the world they can't escape.

The Norse gods don’t rule from some shining eternal paradise. They sit in Asgard, a realm of feasting halls and battle scars, knowing full well that doom is coming. They drink, they fight, they love, and they scheme — but above all, they live with the knowledge that one day, it all ends in fire and ruin. 

“The Norse gods aren’t distant, perfect figures sitting on golden thrones.

They struggle, they fail, they sacrifice, and they rage against the inevitable. They’re larger than life — until they die. ”

Unlike the gods of other mythologies, the Norse deities aren’t immortal in the traditional sense. They age, they can die, and they know how the story ends: Ragnarök, the final battle, where most of them are fated to perish.

But until then? They shape the cosmos, meddle in human affairs, and prove that gods the world over have complicated relationships, questionable choices and a flair for the dramatic.

A Tale of Two Tribes: The Aesir and the Vanir

The Norse gods are divided into two distinct groups:

The Aesir: The warlike, ruling gods of Asgard. Odin, Thor and Loki belong to this camp, focusing on battle, wisdom and power.

The Vanir: The gods of nature, fertility and prosperity. Freyja, Freyr and Njord are part of this mysterious older group.

The two groups weren’t always allies. They started out as enemies, locked in a brutal war that ended in a truce and an exchange of hostages. The Aesir and Vanir eventually merged into a single pantheon, but their differences remain: One is bound by war and fate; the other by nature’s cycles.

Now, let’s meet the major players.

The Norse Pantheon: A Who’s Who of the Gods of Norse Mythology 

ODIN

Dominion: Wisdom, war, death

Gave up an eye for knowledge

THOR

Dominion: Thunder, strength, protection

Wields the hammer Mjölnir

LOKI

Dominion: Trickery, shapeshifting

Fathered a giant wolf, serpent and eight-legged horse

FREYJA

Dominion: Love, magic, battle

Slept with four dwarves to get a necklace

FREYR

Dominion: Fertility, prosperity, peace

Has a golden boar and a self-fighting sword

TYR

Dominion: Justice, law, sacrifice

Lost his hand to the giant wolf Fenrir

BALDER

Dominion: Light, beauty, hope

Was killed by a mistletoe arrow

HEIMDALL

Dominion: Guardianship, perception

Has golden teeth and guards the Rainbow Bridge

FRIGG

Dominion: Fate, foresight, motherhood

Can see the future but doesn't speak of it

NJORD

Dominion: Sea, wind, wealth

Hated living in the mountains with his wife

HODR

Dominion: Darkness, mystery

Accidentally killed his brother Balder

HEL

Dominion: Death, the underworld

Rules over those who die of illness or old age

Odin

Divine Dominion: Wisdom, war, poetry, death and generally knowing more than everyone else

Temperament and Tendencies: Odin isn’t your typical benevolent all-father. He’s the kind of guy who trades his own eye for knowledge and thinks that’s a fair deal. He wanders the world in disguise, testing mortals with riddles and cryptic wisdom, all while hoarding every scrap of magical power he can get his hands on. He’s half battle god, half poetry nerd, and 100% obsessed with avoiding his own fate — though deep down, he knows it’s inevitable.

Signature Style:

• Gungnir, a spear that never misses its mark

• Huginn and Muninn, his two ravens who fly across the world gathering intel. Basically, his personal spy network

• Sleipnir, an eight-legged horse that is technically his grandchild, thanks to Loki’s … creative approach to problem-solving

Inner Circle:

• Frigg, his wife, who knows the future but refuses to tell him

• Thor, his muscle-bound son who solves everything with his hammer

• Loki, his brother and occasional worst enemy

• The Valkyries, his elite warrior-maidens who collect the souls of fallen fighters for the heavenly hall of Valhalla

Saga-Worthy Moment: He once hanged himself from the World Tree for nine days just to unlock the secrets of the runes. Talk about commitment.

Ragnarök Status: Doomed. He’ll go head-to-head with Fenrir, the giant wolf, and it will not end well for him.

Thor

Divine Dominion: Thunder, strength, protection and smashing things really hard

Temperament and Tendencies: Thor is the kind of guy who kicks down doors instead of knocking. He’s loud, boisterous, fiercely loyal and completely incapable of subtlety. He’s the gods’ first line of defense against giants, trolls and anyone who looks at Asgard funny. Despite being a god of war, he has a soft spot for mortals — probably because they cheer the loudest when he shows up swinging his hammer.

Signature Style:

• Mjölnir, his hammer, which always returns to his hand after being thrown

• A magic belt that doubles his strength

• A chariot pulled by two immortal goats, which he occasionally eats and then resurrects the next day

Inner Circle:

• Sif, his wife, best known for her golden hair (which Loki once shaved off, and somehow survived)

• Odin, his complicated father figure

• Loki, his on-again, off-again adventure buddy who causes 95% of his problems

Saga-Worthy Moment: Once had to disguise himself as a bride to retrieve his stolen hammer. It ended in a massacre — but not before some very uncomfortable moments with the groom.

Ragnarök Status: Will go down swinging against Jörmungandr, the world-serpent — he kills it but dies shortly after from its venom

MORE: Norse Mythology That the Movie Thor: Ragnarok Got Wrong

Loki

Divine Dominion: Trickery, chaos, fire and making bad decisions seem fun

Temperament and Tendencies: Loki is equal parts hilarious and horrifying. One minute he’s pulling off an elaborate prank on Thor, and the next, he’s indirectly responsible for the downfall of the gods. He’s a shapeshifter, a smooth talker and a chaos magnet. He’s technically Odin’s brother but doesn’t really fit in with the rest of the Aesir — probably because he keeps switching sides.

Signature Style:

• Shapeshifting into literally anything, from a fish to a fly to, infamously, a female horse. (Yes, this is how Odin’s eight-legged horse was born. No, we don’t talk about it)

• A silver tongue, which gets him both into and out of trouble

• A flair for the dramatic, because being subtle is boring

Inner Circle:

• Odin, when they’re on good terms

• Thor, when they’re not trying to kill each other

• His wife, Sigyn, who’s way too patient for her own good

Saga-Worthy Moment: Loki once gatecrashed a feast at the underwater hall of the giant and master brewer Ægir, where he insulted every god in attendance, bragged about sleeping with half of them, and aired everyone’s dirty laundry in verse — all while very drunk. When Thor finally stormed in and threatened to hammer Loki into paste, the trickster decided it was probably time to leave. This delightful trainwreck of a roast is known as Lokasenna, or Loki’s Flyting. 

Ragnarök Status: Will lead the charge against the gods and go down in a final showdown with Heimdall.

THINK NORSE MYTHOLOGY IS CRAZY? Wait’ll you get a load of this tale of incest, lettuce and jizz from Egyptian mythology!

Freyja

Divine Dominion: Love, beauty, war, magic and getting whatever she wants

Temperament and Tendencies: Freyja’s not your typical love goddess. Sure, she’s beautiful and enchanting — but she’s also a battle-hardened warrior who rides into combat and takes half the fallen warriors before Odin gets his pick. She’s also the queen of sorcery, which makes her both alluring and utterly terrifying.

Signature Style:

• Brísingamen, a dazzling necklace that she definitely didn’t have to sleep with four dwarves to obtain. (Except she did)

• A chariot pulled by two big cats, because dogs are overrated

• A falcon-feathered cloak, allowing her to fly

Inner Circle:

• Freyr, her twin brother, also associated with fertility and prosperity

• Odin, who learned magic from her

• A lot of broken-hearted lovers

Saga-Worthy Moment: Once turned down a marriage proposal from a giant so dramatically that Thor had to step in and smash things.

Ragnarök Status: Unclear. She might survive — because no one tells Freyja what to do.

LEARN MORE about Freyja

Freyr

Divine Dominion: Fertility, prosperity, peace and romantic decisions that haunt you forever 

Temperament and Tendencies: Freyr is one of the Vanir, a fertility god with a soft spot for beautiful women and good harvests. Unlike his battle-happy Aesir cousins, Freyr prefers peace, feasting and abundance — but when love strikes, he goes full disaster romantic.

Signature Style:

• A magic sword that fights on its own (which he gave away to impress a girl… Great call)

• Gullinbursti, a glowing golden boar that pulls his chariot

• An aura of extremely fertile energy — the kind that makes crops grow just by being near them

Inner Circle:

• Freyja, his twin sister and occasional partner-in-crime

• Njord, their laidback sea god dad

• Gerðr, the giantess he fell for so hard, he handed over his magic weapon

Saga-Worthy Moment: At Ragnarök, Freyr goes into battle unarmed because of that whole sword-for-love swap, and gets absolutely wrecked by Surtr, the fire giant.

Ragnarök Status: Heroic, but very dead

Tyr

Divine Dominion: Justice, law, honorable combat and making the ultimate sacrifice

Temperament and Tendencies: Tyr is the god you call when things need to be done the right way. He’s honorable, courageous, and possibly the only Norse god who actually thinks before acting. Unlike Thor, who solves problems with a hammer blow, and Odin, who solves them with riddles, Tyr solves them with logic and sheer willpower — and sometimes, by personally sacrificing body parts.

Signature Style:

• A missing hand, courtesy of Fenrir the giant wolf. (More on that in a second)

• A sword, because even a god of justice needs a way to back it up with force

• An aura of quiet competence, which makes him stand out in a pantheon full of drama

Inner Circle:

• Odin, when things need a legal expert

• The other gods, when they need someone to do the hard job

• Not Fenrir, for obvious reasons

Saga-Worthy Moment: The gods needed to bind Fenrir, the monstrous wolf who would one day help destroy the world. The wolf, being somewhat intelligent, refused to let them tie him up unless one of them put their hand in his mouth as collateral. Tyr immediately stepped up, fully aware of how this was going to end. Sure enough, the second Fenrir realized he was tricked, he bit down — and Tyr didn’t even flinch.

Ragnarök Status: Will fight Garm, the underworld’s monstrous hound, in a final battle. The result? Mutual destruction. But honestly, that’s just how Tyr rolls.

Balder

Divine Dominion: Light, purity, joy and making everyone love him (too much)

Temperament &land Tendencies: Balder is the golden boy of the Norse pantheon — literally. He’s charming, kind, handsome and basically too good for this world (which, spoiler alert, is a problem). Everyone adores him: gods, mortals, even inanimate objects — except for Loki, of course.

Signature Style:

• Glowing with divine radiance, because normal beauty isn’t enough

• Wearing the best armor ever, because Frigg, his mother, made everything in existence promise not to harm him. (Again, almost everything)

• Being the center of attention, mostly because the gods liked to throw things at him just to watch them bounce off

Inner Circle:

• Frigg and Odin, his doting parents

• Hodr, his blind twin brother

• Literally everyone (again, except Loki)

Saga-Worthy Moment: Thanks to his mother’s magical oath, nothing in existence could hurt Balder. The gods turned this into a game, throwing weapons at him and laughing as they bounced off. Enter Loki, who found the one thing Frigg forgot to make swear an oath: mistletoe. He handed a mistletoe-tipped arrow to Balder’s blind brother, Hodr, and guided him to shoot. Balder died instantly, and everyone lost their minds.

Ragnarök Status: Already dead, but he’ll make a glorious return after the world ends, because Balder always gets a happy ending.

Heimdall

Divine Dominion: Guardianship, foresight and being literally the most alert being in existence

Temperament and Tendencies: Heimdall is the guy who never sleeps. He’s the guardian of Bifröst, the rainbow bridge, and his one job is to watch for any threats to Asgard. And he does it very well — his hearing is so sharp he can hear grass grow, and his vision is so good he can see across the realms. Basically, he’s the divine equivalent of a security system cranked up to 11.

Signature Style:

• The Gjallarhorn, the horn he will blow when Ragnarök begins

• Golden teeth, cuz why not?

• A sword — he’s not just standing guard for fun

Inner Circle:

• Odin, because somebody has to be responsible

• The other gods, when they actually listen to his warnings

Saga-Worthy Moment: One day, when the world finally starts crumbling, Heimdall will blow the Gjallarhorn, signaling the beginning of the end. And after a lifetime of standing guard, he’ll finally step into battle against Loki himself in a legendary duel where both will die.

Ragnarök Status: As mentioned, he’ll go out in the ultimate grudge match against Loki. No survivors.

Frigg

Divine Dominion: Fate, motherhood, marriage and knowing absolutely everything — but keeping it to herself

Temperament and Tendencies: Frigg is the ultimate quiet power player. As Odin’s wife and queen of the Aesir, she has the gift of foresight; she knows exactly how everything will end. But does she share this knowledge? Absolutely not. Instead, she spends her time weaving the threads of fate and occasionally trying (and failing) to save her golden boy, Balder. 

Signature Style:

• A spindle and distaff, because fate doesn’t weave itself

• A throne right next to Odin, where she sees everything

• A talent for making oaths happen, which works great — until Loki finds a loophole

Inner Circle:

• Balder, her beloved son (RIP)

• Odin, her mysterious, wandering husband

• A host of minor goddesses who help her manage fate

Saga-Worthy Moment: She got everything in existence to swear an oath not to harm Balder … except for mistletoe. That one oversight set off the entire apocalypse countdown.

Ragnarök Status: Survives (but she already knew that) 

Njord

Divine Dominion: The sea, wealth, boats and awkward family vacations

Temperament and Tendencies: Njord is chill. He’s a sea god who just wants everyone to be rich, happy and sailing the open waves. But thanks to an arranged marriage with Skadi, a snow-loving giantess, his life is one long compromise between the beach and the mountains. Spoiler: Nobody’s happy.

Signature Style:

• A ship that can sail on land if needed

• An eternal tan, because sea gods don’t do SPF

• A lot of treasure — the sea is a profitable business

Inner Circle:

• Freyr and Freyja, his beloved kids

• Skadi, his extremely outdoorsy ex

Saga-Worthy Moment: He and his wife, Skadi, agreed to split their time between his beach house and her mountain lodge. Both hated each other’s homes, so they split up, making Njord the god of divine irreconcilable differences.

Ragnarök Status: Not really a fighter, so he might just float off into the sunset

Hodr

Divine Dominion: Darkness, tragic accidents and being way too trusting of Loki

Temperament and Tendencies: Hodr is kind-hearted but doomed, born blind and destined to kill his own brother Balder — which is super-awkward because they actually liked each other. But the gods don’t even blame him. They all know it was Loki’s fault.

Signature Style:

• A bow and arrow, because nothing could possibly go wrong handing that to a blind guy

• A general vibe of tragic inevitability

• Being the saddest pawn in the whole mythology game

Inner Circle:

• Balder, his ill-fated brother

• Frigg, his mom, who really tried her best

• Loki, who hands him the murder weapon like some cosmic prank gone too far

Saga-Worthy Moment: When the gods played their “let’s throw stuff at Balder” game, Hodr got handed a mistletoe-tipped arrow by Loki, who kindly helped him aim. Instant tragedy.

Ragnarök Status: Already dead before Ragnarök even starts. A true overachiever in cosmic misfortune.

Hel

Divine Dominion: The underworld, death, and giving zero fucks about your feelings

Temperament and Tendencies: Hel is half living woman, half rotting corpse, which really sets the tone. Unlike the fiery torment of some afterlives, Helheim is more of a cold, dreary waiting room for souls who didn’t die in battle. Hel’s not really cruel; she just doesn’t give a shit.

Signature Style:

• A kingdom named after herself, because branding matters

• An expression that says, “This meeting could’ve been an email.”

• A general air of “why are you bothering me?”

Inner Circle:

• Loki, her dad, who barely visits

• The dead, who don’t exactly have options

Saga-Worthy Moment: When Balder died, Hermod (Odin’s other son) rode into Helheim to beg Hel to release him. Hel said sure — if literally everything in the world would weep for him. When one giantess (Loki in disguise, naturally) refused, she slammed the gates shut and went back to not caring.

Ragnarök Status: Stays put in Helheim, because she has a kingdom to run, thank you very much.

The Norse Pantheon: Gods of Glory and Doom

The Norse gods are a paradox: mighty yet mortal, powerful yet doomed. Unlike the serene and eternal deities of other mythologies, they live in the shadow of an ending they can’t escape. 

But rather than despair, they fight harder, love wilder and drink deeper. They’re warriors, tricksters, rulers and seers, but above all, they’re beings who embrace their fate and make every moment count.

And maybe that’s what makes them so compelling. The Norse gods aren’t distant, perfect figures sitting on golden thrones. They struggle, they fail, they sacrifice, and they rage against the inevitable. They’re larger than life — until they die. 

So raise a horn of mead, toast to the Aesir and Vanir, and remember: Even gods can fall, but legends live forever. –Wally

---

MORE MYTHOLOGY

The Major Ancient Egyptian Gods & Goddesses

Ancient Gods of the Old Testament

Little-Known Gods of Ancient Egypt 

Hindu Gods & Goddesses

Choosing the Perfect Proposal Destination: 3 Top Tips

Proposing abroad adds magic to the moment — but picking the right spot can be tricky. These tips will help you create a moment worth saying yes to.

The moment you get down on one knee to pop the question to your significant other deserves a magical location unlike any other. For many, that means heading abroad — to somewhere with the perfect climate, stunning scenery and plenty of lively spots to celebrate your engagement together.

With so many destinations to choose from, picking the right one can feel tricky — and even potentially overwhelming if you don’t know what to look for. To help ease your nerves and make it a stress-free process, here are my top tips to follow to guide you toward the proposal location of your dreams.

1. Pick somewhere significant.

Think back over the history of your relationship. Perhaps you met in a foreign country, took a special holiday together, or share dreams of the same bucket list location you’d both love to visit. Choosing a destination that’s significant to you and your other half is guaranteed to make for a meaningful proposal that feels unique to your love story.

Want to make it even more magical? Travel to your chosen destination for Valentine’s Day, your anniversary or Christmas. If you don’t usually take trips for these occasions, your partner may catch wind of your plans — in which case, you may want to travel during the off-peak season instead to keep the big moment a surprise. Not only will this approach keep your love guessing, but you’ll likely benefit from reduced costs, leaving more money in your budget to make the trip one to treasure.

READ: Planning a Wedding in the UK

2. Look for unusual activities.

Enjoying some fun activities together will help to build the excitement and romance between you both in time for your proposal. You might want to try something new and thrilling — like skiing in Switzerland, or skydiving in New Zealand. Or plan something more relaxed, like a picnic beneath the Eiffel Tower or swimming in crystal-clear Caribbean waters. Just make sure your plans are different enough from your usual activities to make the trip a memorable one from start to finish.

Of course, there’s something to be said for simply taking it easy, too. Delicious food, sunny skies and breathtaking views will help to relax you both. In fact, a quiet moment spent in a beautiful location may work wonders for those pre-proposal nerves.

READ: A Romantic Getaway in Aspen

3. Consider cultural norms

It’s important to research your chosen destination before planning your proposal, as some countries are more conservative than others when it comes to things like holding hands, hugging and kissing, or celebrating with an alcoholic beverage in public. While this shouldn’t stop you from proposing in a place that’s special to you, it does mean that you’ll need to be aware of cultural norms, and plan your proposal to be in line with local rules and etiquette expectations.

The UAE, Egypt, Indonesia and India, for example, each have public decency laws or social guidelines around being affectionate in public with one another in public. If you want to get engaged at one of these locations, it’s best to plan a private proposal. It’ll only help to make the moment that much more intimate and meaningful.

READ: The Best Place to Make Out in Public in India

Keeping the ring safe

It might be the least fun part of planning the proposal, but knowing what you need to do to keep the ring safe is essential.  Thwarted plans as a result of a lost diamond is a nightmare scenario for any proposer. It’s a good idea to get the ring insured before traveling, research your airline’s security policies, and look into the customs regulations for your chosen destination. 

Make sure you store the ring properly, too.  It’s best to keep it securely tucked away in your hand luggage, to protect from damage, loss or, in extreme circumstances, theft.

Proposing Abroad

Once you’ve covered the logistics of getting you, your partner and the all-important ring to your destination safely, all that’s left to do is plan the finishing touches your loved one will appreciate. Whether it’s floral décor, a champagne picnic or a concealed photographer ready to capture your special moment — or perhaps all three of those things — going that extra mile will show your significant other how much you really care. –Samantha Lewis

The Major Hindu Gods and Goddesses

Hinduism is said to have millions of gods — but in practice, a few dozen take center stage. Here’s your guide to the most significant deities and avatars, including Shiva, Ganesha, Vishnu, Saraswati, Krishna, Hanuman, Lakshmi and Kali.

If you’ve ever heard that Hinduism has “330 million gods,” you might picture an endlessly expanding pantheon with so many characters you could spend a lifetime learning about them all. 

The truth is more layered. That astronomical number isn’t a census so much as a poetic way of saying the divine is infinite, manifesting in countless forms and aspects. 

In practice, certain deities emerge again and again — in temple carvings, festival processions, devotional songs and stories passed down through generations.

“Many Hindu gods have skin glowing in hues beyond the human — deep blue for cosmic infinity, gold for radiance, green for life itself.

Multiple arms signal their boundless power, each hand holding a weapon, tool, lotus or blessing. ”

Some are worshipped as supreme in their own right; others are venerated as avatars, or incarnations, of the same cosmic force. You might see the same god in wildly different guises — gentle one moment, ferocious the next — depending on the story being told. And while millions of forms may exist in theory, a core roster of perhaps 20 or so names dominates the Hindu spiritual and cultural imagination.

Here, we’ve gathered the most prominent Hindu gods and goddesses. You’ll meet gods who ride lions, owls, bulls and even mice; goddesses who create, nurture and destroy; and divine heroes whose epics have shaped centuries of art, music and philosophy. 

While each deity is unique in their own way, you’ll notice certain recurring themes that mark their divinity. Many are crowned with halos of light, their skin glowing in hues beyond the human — deep blue for cosmic infinity, gold for radiance, green for life itself. Multiple arms signal their boundless power, each hand holding a weapon, tool, lotus or blessing. They are adorned with jewels and garlands, their forms draped in silks that ripple like clouds or sunlight. At their side waits a faithful vahana, an animal mount whose nature mirrors the god’s own — be it the fierce lion, the graceful swan or the humble mouse. These shared elements form a visual language of the divine, instantly recognizable across temples, paintings and stories.

Whether you’re new to Hindu mythology or deepening your familiarity, consider this your guided tour of the celestial VIP list.

Annapurna

The goddess who feeds the world

Domain: Nourishment, food, abundance, hospitality

Symbolism: Golden ladle for the act of serving, bowl of food for sustenance, grain for prosperity, kitchen hearth for the warmth of home

Appearance: Annapurna’s beauty is that of comfort — the kind that draws you in from the cold and fills your bowl before you can ask. Her skin glows with the warmth of an autumn harvest, and her dark hair falls in glossy waves beneath a golden crown. She wears a crimson sari edged in gold, the color of ripened grain in the sun, and jewels that glint like the first sparks from a cooking fire. In one hand, she holds a golden ladle; in the other, a bowl brimming with food, the eternal promise that no soul will go hungry in her presence.

Mount/Vahana: None traditionally. She’s often depicted seated in a kitchen or temple setting. 

Mythological role: Annapurna is a form of Parvati, born to remind even Shiva that life cannot be lived on renunciation alone. When Shiva once declared that the world was an illusion — including the need for food — she disappeared, and the earth grew barren. Only when hunger touched every being did Shiva seek her out. Finding her in Varanasi, he humbled himself, and she served him a meal with her own hands. From then on, she became the goddess of nourishment, the one who teaches that the spiritual and the physical are inseparable.

Consort and family: As a form of Parvati, she’s the wife of Shiva and mother of Ganesha and Kartikeya.

Associated festivals: Annapurna Jayanti (celebrating her birth), observed mainly in northern India

Worship and significance: Devotees seek Annapurna’s blessings for a plentiful harvest, a stocked kitchen and the generosity to feed others. Her temples often serve prasada (sanctified food) to all who come, without question of wealth or status.

Fascinating fact: The Annapurna temple in Varanasi is one of the few where food — rather than flowers or incense — is the primary offering.

Brahma

The creator, architect of the universe

Domain: Creation, knowledge, the cosmic order

Symbolism: Four heads gazing in all directions, each reciting one of the Vedas; a water pot holding the seed of life; the lotus, symbol of the universe’s unfolding

Appearance: Imagine an elderly yet ageless figure, his beard as white as the snows of the Himalayas, his skin glowing with the faint blush of dawn. Brahma wears robes the color of the rising sun — deep pinks and reds, shimmering with gold threads that catch the light. His four heads turn in unison, surveying all corners of the cosmos. Each face holds a calm, wise expression, as if they’ve already seen all possible futures. In one hand, he holds the Vedas, the sacred knowledge of the universe; in another, a mala (prayer beads) that he uses not for devotion, but for counting the endless cycles of creation and destruction.

Mount/Vahana: A swan named Hamsa, symbolizing discernment and wisdom. The swan is said to be able to separate milk from water, just as Brahma discerns truth from illusion. In art, Hamsa often glides beside him, wings lifted as if in mid-takeoff, ready to carry him across the endless skies.

Mythological role: Brahma’s story begins in a lotus — but not just any lotus. It sprouted from the navel of another god, Vishnu, as he lay upon the cosmic ocean, and from that lotus, Brahma emerged. He became the craftsman of reality, shaping the heavens, Earth and all beings. And yet, despite his monumental role, Brahma is one of the least-worshipped gods in Hinduism. Myth has it this is due to a curse: After a quarrel with Shiva and an act of deceit to prove his supremacy, Brahma lost the right to have temples dedicated to him. Today, there are only a handful of temples in the world where he is the main deity, the most famous being in Pushkar, Rajasthan. He is, though, often found inside spirit houses on Bali. 

Consort and family: Saraswati, goddess of wisdom, is his wife and creative partner — her music and intellect inspiring his act of creation.

Associated festivals: Brahmotsavam in Tirupati carries his name but actually honors Vishnu; Kartik Purnima in Pushkar celebrates him directly.

Worship and significance: As the origin point of creation, Brahma represents knowledge, beginnings and the birth of ideas — whether that’s the universe itself or the spark of inspiration in a human mind.

Fascinating fact: Each of Brahma’s days lasts 4.32 billion human years. At the end of one of his “days,” the universe dissolves into the cosmic ocean, only to be re-created when he awakens. In other words, even the universe has a bedtime.

Chandra

The moon god, keeper of time and tides

Domain: The moon, time, fertility, the mind and the life-giving elixir soma

Symbolism: The luminous crescent moon, the night sky strewn with stars, a chariot pulled by antelopes, and the cool radiance that soothes the earth after the heat of day

Appearance: Picture the night as a velvet canopy, deep navy and speckled with pinpricks of silver light. Cutting through that darkness is Chandra’s chariot — sleek, gleaming, and drawn by a team of pure white antelopes. Chandra has a youthful face, his skin glowing with the pale luminescence of moonlight reflected on water. His black hair flows beneath a crown that holds a crescent moon, its tips like delicate silver horns. Draped in garments of pearl white and soft blue, he carries a lotus, symbol of purity, and his eyes have a dreamy calm that mirrors the gentle pull he exerts on the tides.

Mount/Vahana: A shining chariot drawn by 10 white antelopes (or, in some traditions, horses with antelope heads). The choice of mount reflects agility, swiftness and the moon’s ability to traverse the heavens with grace.

Mythological role: Chandra’s presence in the sky is more than decoration; he is the very heartbeat of time in the Hindu calendar. The waxing and waning of his light marks the rhythm of festivals, rituals and agricultural cycles. But his myths are not without drama. In one tale, Chandra married the 27 daughters of Daksha, the starry “nakshatras” or lunar mansions, but favored one, Rohini, above the rest. His neglect angered Daksha, who cursed him to fade away. This curse explains the moon’s waning phase — until the gods intervened to let him regain his strength, creating the cycle of waxing and waning we see each month.

Chandra is also tied to the sacred drink soma — in some traditions, he is soma personified, the elixir that nourishes gods and mortals alike. When he disappears at the new moon, it is said he is being “drunk” by the gods, only to be reborn and replenished.

Consort and family: Married to the 27 nakshatras, with Rohini as his most beloved. In some myths, he fathers Budha (the planet Mercury, not to be mistaken with the Buddha) with the goddess Tara, sparking a celestial scandal.

Associated festivals: Karva Chauth, where married women fast until they see the moon; Sharad Purnima, celebrating Chandra’s brightest, most benevolent light of the year.

Worship and significance: Chandra governs the mind and emotions in Vedic astrology, influencing calmness, creativity and romance. He is called upon for mental clarity, fertility blessings and the soothing of emotional storms.

Fascinating fact: While most gods have one vahana, Chandra’s chariot is pulled by not one but 10 antelopes, a detail that adds a touch of otherworldly strangeness (and a nod to Santa Claus) to his midnight ride.

Durga

The invincible mother, warrior goddess of cosmic balance

Domain: Protection, destruction of evil, strength, righteousness, the embodiment of shakti (divine feminine power)

Symbolism: Ten arms each bearing a weapon from the gods, the lion or tiger as her mount, and the serene smile of a warrior who knows the battle is already won

Appearance: The horizon burns with gold and crimson light, the air trembling as the roar of a lion cuts through the clamor of war. On its back sits Durga — radiant, unflinching, crowned with a gleaming diadem that catches the sun like fire. Her skin glows like molten gold, and her eyes are wide and steady, reflecting the calm at the heart of a storm. Each of her 10 arms moves with divine precision: One looses an arrow, another swings a sword, another raises a conch to rally her allies. Each weapon was a gift from a god, entrusted to her when they realized no male deity could defeat the demon Mahishasura.

Mount/Vahana: A lion or tiger, symbolizing power, fearlessness and the ferocity needed to destroy evil. In many images, her mount is mid-leap, claws bared, charging into battle beside her.

Mythological role: Durga’s most famous tale is her battle with Mahishasura, a shape-shifting buffalo demon who could not be killed by man or god. For nine days and nights, she fought him, her weapons flashing like lightning. On the 10th day, she struck the final blow, the demon collapsing at her feet. This victory is celebrated as Vijayadashami (the Day of Victory), and the nine nights of battle as Navratri. But Durga isn’t just a warrior — she’s also a compassionate mother and a guardian of the innocent, protecting the world from forces that disrupt cosmic order.

Consort and family: Considered an aspect of Parvati, wife of Shiva, and mother to Ganesha and Kartikeya. In her warrior form, she stands apart, representing the untamed energy that even the gods must revere.

Associated festivals: Durga Puja, Navratri, Vijayadashami — all filled with dancing, music and processions of her image returning to the water from which she came.

Worship and significance: Durga is called upon for courage, protection and the strength to face seemingly insurmountable challenges. Her image is often placed at thresholds or in vehicles as a ward against danger.

Fascinating fact: In many depictions, Durga is shown skewering Mahishasura at the exact moment he shifts from buffalo to human form — symbolizing her mastery over chaos itself, striking at the perfect moment when the enemy is most vulnerable.

Ganesha

The granter of boons, remover of obstacles, lord of beginnings and wisdom

Domain: Wisdom, intellect, new ventures, success, remover of obstacles both physical and spiritual

Symbolism: Elephant head (wisdom and memory), large ears (listening deeply), small eyes (focus), a curved trunk (adaptability), broken tusk (sacrifice for knowledge), a sweet dumpling known as modak (reward of spiritual pursuit)

Appearance: A figure that makes everyone smile. Ganesha sits with the casual ease of someone who has already solved your problems before you’ve spoken them aloud. His elephant head is grand yet gentle, with eyes that crinkle in amusement and ears spread like open hands, ready to catch every prayer. His skin is often a warm pink or golden hue, adorned with rich silks in reds and yellows, gold bangles chiming softly at his wrists. One hand raises in blessing; another holds a sweet modak, its conical shape a symbol of spiritual rewards. Another hand may wield an axe, to cut away attachments, while the fourth carries a rope, to draw devotees closer to their goals.

Mount/Vahana: A small, humble mouse named Mushika. At first glance, it seems absurd — an enormous god riding a tiny creature — but the symbolism is deliberate. The mouse represents desires, which can gnaw endlessly if unchecked. Ganesha, in riding it, shows mastery over impulses, and the ability to reach even the smallest corners of the mind where obstacles hide.

Mythological role: Ganesha’s origin stories are as colorful as his depictions. In the most popular version, Parvati fashioned him from the turmeric paste she used for bathing, breathing life into the boy to guard her privacy. When Shiva, her husband, returned and found this unknown child blocking his way, he beheaded him in a fit of divine rage. Realizing his mistake, Shiva replaced the head with that of the first creature he found — an elephant — and bestowed upon Ganesha the role of guardian of thresholds, beginnings and new journeys.

He appears in countless tales, often outwitting gods and demons alike with his quick thinking. One famous story tells how he won a race around the world against his brother Kartikeya by circling his parents, declaring that they were his whole world — a victory earned through wisdom, not speed.

Consort and family: Son of Shiva and Parvati, brother to Kartikeya. In some traditions, married to Siddhi (spiritual power) and Buddhi (intellect).

Associated festivals: Ganesh Chaturthi: a 10-day celebration where clay idols of Ganesha are immersed in water, symbolizing both his arrival and return to the divine realm.

Worship and significance: Ganesha is invoked at the start of all endeavors — whether building a temple, writing a book or opening a shop. His image is often placed above doorways, on business ledgers and on the dashboards of cars, ensuring smooth beginnings and safe journeys. As Vighnaharta, the remover of obstacles, and Varada, the granter of boons, he is the god to whom devotees turn when seeking success, blessings and protection.

Fascinating fact: The broken tusk has several explanations. In one, Ganesha broke it off to use as a quill for writing the epic Mahabharata as the sage Vyasa dictated it, agreeing never to stop until the work was complete. The sacrifice turned a blemish into an eternal symbol of devotion to knowledge.

Hanuman

The monkey god, embodiment of strength and devotion

Domain: Courage, loyalty, protection, selfless service

Symbolism: The gada (mace) for strength, the mountain he carries for resourcefulness, and his open chest revealing the images of Rama and Sita — a literal heart of devotion

Appearance: A figure with the face of a monkey but the stance of a seasoned warrior — broad shoulders, a long curling tail, eyes full of determination. Hanuman’s skin is often rendered in shades of deep gold or copper, his muscles taut with power earned through ascetic discipline. He wears a simple dhoti, sometimes red, sometimes saffron, with golden ornaments that catch the light as he moves. His most striking image is not when he wields his mace or leaps across the sea, but when he tears open his chest to reveal the divine couple Rama and Sita glowing inside — proof that they live in his heart.

Mount/Vahana: None in the traditional sense; Hanuman’s own supernatural strength, speed, and ability to leap vast distances make him his own transport. In art, he’s often shown soaring through the air, wind whipping through his fur.

Mythological role: Hanuman’s story is woven tightly into the Ramayana. Born to Anjana and blessed by the wind god Vayu, he displayed superhuman powers from childhood — once leaping to catch the sun, mistaking it for a fruit. As an adult, he becomes the devoted ally of Rama in the quest to rescue Sita from Ravana. His feats include burning the city of Lanka with his flaming tail, carrying an entire mountain of herbs to heal Lakshmana, and crossing oceans in a single bound. Yet for all his power, Hanuman is known for humility — he never seeks glory for himself, only the success of Rama’s mission.

Consort and family: Celibate by choice, devoting all his energy to service and devotion. Son of Anjana and the wind god Vayu.

Associated festivals: Hanuman Jayanti, celebrated with recitations of the Hanuman Chalisa and offerings of sindoor (vermilion powder).

Worship and significance: Hanuman is called upon for strength in adversity, courage in the face of danger, and protection from evil influences. Temples dedicated to him often have devotees chanting his name or circling the shrine for blessings.

Fascinating fact: Hanuman’s name means “disfigured jaw” — a reference to the childhood incident where Indra struck him with a thunderbolt when he tried to grab the sun, injuring his jaw but also awakening his divine powers.

Indra

King of the heavens, wielder of the thunderbolt

Domain: Rain, storms, war, kingship, protection of cosmic order (ṛta)

Symbolism: The Vajra (thunderbolt) for irresistible power, Airavata the elephant for strength and majesty, rain clouds for life-giving abundance, the rainbow for divine promise

Appearance: Indra stands tall and broad-shouldered, the bearing of a warrior-king in every line of his frame. His skin glows with the vitality of fresh rain on sunlit stone, and his eyes flash with the quicksilver of lightning. A golden crown rests on his brow, studded with gems that mirror the colors of the sky — sapphire for the clear day, opal for the gathering storm. Draped in silks the color of storm clouds, he carries the Vajra, forged from the bones of the sage Dadhichi, a weapon that can shatter even the mightiest foe.

Mount/Vahana: Airavata, the great white elephant, vast as a mountain and crowned with four tusks. His steps shake the earth, and from his trunk he sprays water that feeds the clouds, heralding the monsoon.

Mythological role: Indra is the king of the Devas and ruler of Svarga, the heavenly realm. In the Vedic age, he was the supreme god, the bringer of rain and the breaker of drought. His most famous legend tells of his battle with Vritra, the serpent-demon who had imprisoned the world’s waters. Riding Airavata and wielding the Vajra, Indra struck Vritra down, freeing the rivers and restoring life to the land. Later myths show him as both hero and flawed figure — brave in battle, quick to defend the gods, yet prone to pride and desire.

Consort and family: Married to Shachi (also called Indrani), queen of the heavens. Son of the sky-god Dyaus and the dawn goddess Prithvi in some accounts, though genealogies vary.

Associated festivals: While Indra is less central in modern Hindu worship, he’s honored in certain regional festivals, such as Indra Jatra in Nepal, which celebrates him as the god of rain and the harvest.

Worship and significance: Once the chief deity of the Rigveda, Indra’s prominence has shifted over time. But he remains a powerful symbol of leadership, protection and the life-giving force of rain. Farmers and warriors alike have invoked his name for victory and survival.

Fascinating fact: In some Balinese traditions, Indra is seen as a mediator between gods and humans — a role that has parallels in the island’s legends of Barong and Rangda, the eternal dance of protection and destruction.

Kali

The fierce mother, devourer of time, destroyer of illusions

Domain: Destruction of evil, liberation, transformation, time, empowerment

Symbolism: Garland of severed heads (knowledge gained through ego’s destruction), skirt of severed arms (detachment from action), lolling red tongue (shock and raw power), weapons and a severed demon head in her hands (victory over darkness)

Appearance: Kali does not arrive quietly. She bursts into the battlefield like a storm let loose, her skin the color of midnight, absorbing all light. Her hair streams wild and unbound, a living halo of chaos, and her eyes blaze like twin suns at the moment of apocalypse. Around her neck hangs a grisly garland — fifty severed heads, each representing a Sanskrit letter, a reminder that all speech and creation eventually dissolve into silence.

Her skirt is a belt of severed arms, trophies from foes, but also a symbol that the fruits of action belong to the divine, not to the ego. In two hands she holds weapons: a sword and a trident; in another, she clutches the freshly severed head of a demon, its blood still dripping onto the ground. Her other hands are extended in gestures of blessing and reassurance, an unsettling reminder that the one who destroys also protects.

Mount/Vahana: None in her most iconic form — Kali’s arrival is so sudden and overwhelming that she needs no mount. In some regional depictions, she is associated with jackals or rides upon the corpse of a demon, symbolizing her mastery over death itself.

Mythological role: Kali’s most famous appearance comes in the battle against the demon Raktabija. Each drop of his blood that hit the earth produced another demon, making him nearly impossible to kill. Kali’s solution was both brilliant and terrifying: she tore through the battlefield, drinking his blood before it could touch the ground, consuming him entirely.

But her ferocity once threatened to tip into total annihilation. In a victory frenzy, she rampaged across the world until Shiva lay down in her path. Stepping on him, she realized what she was doing — her tongue darting out in shock. That moment is immortalized in her most famous pose: foot on Shiva’s chest, tongue out, eyes wide, the destroyer stopped by compassion.

Consort and family: Considered a form of Parvati, consort of Shiva, though in her aspect as Kali she often acts alone.

Associated festivals: Kali Puja, coinciding with Diwali in Bengal; Navratri in her fierce aspect.

Worship and significance: Kali is worshipped not for gentle blessings, but for transformation — she burns away illusions, attachments, and fears. Devotees come to her to destroy what is holding them back, knowing the process may be as fierce as she is.

Fascinating fact: In Tantric traditions, Kali is not feared but embraced as the ultimate reality — the womb and the tomb, creation and destruction in one. Her darkness is not evil, but the infinite void from which all life emerges and to which it returns.

Kartikeya (aka Murugan)

The youthful warrior, commander of the divine army

Domain: War, victory, wisdom, leadership, guardianship of dharma

Symbolism: Spear (vel) for piercing ignorance, peacock for pride mastered, rooster emblem for dawn and vigilance.

Appearance: Kartikeya is the god of youth and vigor, and it shows in every depiction. He’s sometimes depicted with six faces (a nod to his birth story, below), though most often as a youth with a single handsome face. His skin glows like burnished gold, his features sharp and confident, with eyes that flash like drawn steel. His hair falls in dark waves past a diadem encrusted with rubies, and his body is draped in fine silks the color of peacock feathers. Across his chest gleams a golden chain, and in one hand he holds the vel, a spear so perfectly balanced it seems to float in his grasp.

The vel was a gift from his mother Parvati, forged from her own shakti (divine power), and it never misses its mark. In his other hand he may carry a small banner emblazoned with a rooster, whose crowing heralds the light that drives away the night’s dangers.

Mount/Vahana: A regal peacock named Paravani, feathers iridescent with blues and greens that shimmer like oil on water. The peacock is a symbol of beauty and vanity mastered — its sharp talons and fierce beak a reminder that elegance does not preclude ferocity. In many depictions, the peacock tramples a serpent beneath its claws, representing the conquest of harmful desires and ego.

Mythological role: Kartikeya was born for battle. When the demon Tarakasura could only be slain by Shiva’s son, the gods sought to bring Shiva and Parvati together. From their union came six sparks of fire, carried by the river Ganga to a lotus pond, where they became six infants. The celestial nymphs known as the Krittikas nurtured them, and when Parvati embraced all six at once, they merged into one child with six faces — a tradition that gave him an alternate name Shanmukha, “Six-Faced One.”

He grew to be the general of the gods’ army, leading them to victory against Tarakasura. In South India, he is celebrated as Murugan, the patron of Tamil culture and poetry, embodying both the scholar and the warrior.

Consort and family: Son of Shiva and Parvati, brother to Ganesha. In some traditions, he’s married to Valli and Devasena.

Associated festivals: Thaipusam, Skanda Shashti, Panguni Uthiram — celebrated with grand processions, kavadi offerings such as pots of milk, and feats of devotion.

Worship and significance: Kartikeya is invoked for courage, clarity and success in competition. In Tamil Nadu, devotees climb hills barefoot to reach his temples, mirroring the god’s own journey to conquer the heights of battle.

Fascinating fact: In some depictions, Kartikeya’s peacock mount is shown turning its head to watch him closely, as if taking silent instruction — a visual metaphor for the disciplined control of power and pride.

Krishna

The divine lover, cowherd and protector of dharma

Domain: Love, compassion, joy, divine play (lila), protection of the righteous

Symbolism: Flute for the music of the soul, peacock feather for beauty and grace, cows for abundance and gentleness, yellow garments for the light of divinity

Appearance: Krishna’s beauty is the kind that makes time pause. His skin is the deep blue of monsoon clouds, luminous and alive, as if it holds the promise of rain. His eyes are dark and playful, holding secrets he’ll never tell outright; instead, he lets them slip in song. Around his head rests a crown woven with fresh peacock feathers, shimmering emerald and sapphire. He wears a yellow pitambara (silken dhoti) that moves like sunlight caught in a breeze.

He holds his flute to his lips, coaxing a melody so sweet that cows stop grazing, rivers change their course to listen, and hearts — even those hardened by pride — begin to soften. At his feet, the gopis (cowherd girls) stand transfixed, drawn not just to his beauty but to the boundless love it reflects.

Mount/Vahana: None. Krishna’s life is pastoral; he walks among cows in the town of Vrindavan, accompanied by the sound of ankle bells and the laughter of companions. In battle, he drives the warrior Arjuna’s chariot as a guide rather than a mounted warrior.

Mythological role: Krishna’s story spans from playful trickster to statesman and philosopher. As a child, he stole butter from every household, earning the nickname Makhan Chor (“Butter Thief”), and once lifted the massive Govardhan Hill on his finger to shelter villagers from a storm sent by the rain god Indra. As an adult, he becomes the moral compass and strategist of the Mahabharata, delivering the Bhagavad Gita to Arjuna on the eve of battle: a discourse on duty, devotion and the eternal soul that has shaped Hindu philosophy for millennia.

But Krishna is also the god of lila — divine play. His romances with Radha and the gopi cowherd girls work also as metaphors for the soul’s yearning for union with the divine.

Consort and family: Beloved of Radha; in later life, married to Rukmini and other queens of the legendary city of Dwaraka. Son of Vasudeva and Devaki, raised by Nanda and Yashoda.

Associated festivals: Janmashtami (his birth), Holi (the festival of colors, recalling his playful smearing of colors on Radha)

Worship and significance: Krishna is worshipped as the supreme personality of godhead in many traditions. Devotees seek him for joy, love and guidance, whether in the innocence of childhood games or the gravity of moral decisions.

Fascinating fact: Krishna’s flute, called Murali, gets its power from the divine breath that flows through it, reminding devotees that we are instruments for the divine will when we let go of ego.

Lakshmi

The radiant goddess of fortune, beauty and abundance

Domain: Wealth, prosperity, good fortune, fertility, spiritual abundance

Symbolism: Lotus flowers for purity and spiritual awakening, gold coins flowing from her palms for prosperity, elephants for royal authority and generosity

Appearance: Lakshmi is the very embodiment of grace — a vision bathed in light as if she herself is the sunrise breaking over still waters. Her skin glows with a golden warmth, and she wears a red sari embroidered with gold thread, the fabric rippling like firelight. Each movement is deliberate and fluid, like the gentle opening of a lotus.

In most depictions, she stands or sits upon a blooming lotus floating on the cosmic ocean, the petals cupping her like a throne. Two of her four hands hold lotuses, their long stems rising gracefully; the other two extend in blessing, one palm open in reassurance, the other pouring an endless stream of gold coins that pile into shimmering mounds at her feet. The air around her is alive with elephants spraying water from golden vessels, symbols of strength and auspiciousness.

Mount/Vahana: An owl, symbolizing wisdom and the ability to see through darkness. Though rarely emphasized in modern depictions, the owl reminds devotees that wealth without wisdom can lead to downfall — Lakshmi’s blessings must be balanced with discernment.

Mythological role: Lakshmi emerged fully grown from the churning of the cosmic ocean (Samudra Manthan), radiant and carrying a lotus. The gods and demons had worked together to churn the ocean for the nectar of immortality, but it was Lakshmi’s appearance that became the crowning blessing of their labor. She chose Vishnu as her eternal consort, and from then on accompanied him in every incarnation — as Sita to his Rama, as Rukmini to his Krishna.

True prosperity, she teaches, includes health, love, knowledge and spiritual growth. In some stories, she tests the worthiness of those who seek her, disappearing from households where greed and injustice reign.

Consort and family: Wife of Vishnu; in his earthly incarnations, she is born alongside him.

Associated festivals: Diwali, especially Lakshmi Puja, when homes are cleaned, lit with lamps, and decorated to welcome her

Worship and significance: Lakshmi is one of the most widely worshipped deities in Hinduism. Businesses open their books in her name, households pray to her for stability, and farmers seek her blessing for fertile fields.

Fascinating fact: In southern India, Lakshmi is sometimes depicted in eight forms known as Ashtalakshmi, each representing a different type of wealth — from material prosperity to courage, fertility and knowledge.

Meenakshi

The warrior-queen and fish-eyed goddess of Madurai, one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world 

Domain: Fertility, prosperity, protection of Madurai, righteous rule

Symbolism: Green skin for life and abundance, fish-shaped eyes for watchfulness and grace, crown for sovereignty, parrot for love and divine speech

Appearance: Meenakshi’s beauty is unlike any other — her skin glows a vivid green, like new rice shoots after the rain, a sign of the fertile abundance she brings. Her almond-shaped eyes, long and luminous, are said to resemble fish — always open, never blinking, guarding her people as a fish watches over its young. She wears royal silks in deep magenta and gold, and a towering crown studded with rubies and emeralds. In one hand she holds a bouquet of lotuses; in the other, a parrot perches, its feathers bright as new leaves, whispering divine secrets into her ear.

Mount/Vahana: Often depicted standing rather than riding, but sometimes shown with a parrot or lion as her companion.

Mythological role: Born to the king and queen of Madurai after a divine promise from the gods, Meenakshi entered the world with three breasts — a sign she was destined for greatness. Prophecy foretold that the extra breast would vanish when she met her future husband. A fierce warrior, she led armies to conquer neighboring lands, never defeated in battle. When she encountered Shiva in his form as Sundareshwarar, her third breast disappeared, and they were wed in a grand ceremony that united divine power with royal rule.

Consort and family: Married to Shiva (as Sundareshwarar) and worshipped alongside him. Considered an incarnation of Parvati

Associated festivals: Meenakshi Thirukalyanam (her celestial wedding), Chithirai Festival in Madurai

Worship and significance: Meenakshi is the heart of Madurai’s spiritual life, enshrined in the colossal Meenakshi Amman Temple, whose gopurams (gateway towers) rise like jeweled mountains over the city. She is both a tender mother and an unflinching protector, blessing devotees with prosperity while defending her city with warrior strength.

Fascinating fact: In Tamil tradition, parrots are symbols of eloquence and divine love, repeating sacred mantras and carrying messages between the human and divine realms.

Parvati

The gentle mother, devoted wife and wellspring of divine energy

Domain: Love, fertility, marital devotion, spiritual power (shakti)

Symbolism: Lotus for purity, mirror for self-knowledge, red garments for passion and vitality, and her many forms — from nurturing Annapurna to fierce Durga and terrifying Kali.

Appearance: Parvati’s beauty is the quiet kind — like a lamp’s steady flame, constant and unwavering. Her skin glows with the warm bronze of sunlit earth, and her large, compassionate eyes seem to see through pretenses straight to the heart. She wears a red sari edged in gold, its color speaking of both love and strength, and her long black hair is often braided and adorned with fresh flowers. A crescent moon, borrowed from her husband Shiva, sometimes gleams in her hair, a sign of their eternal bond.

When she sits beside Shiva atop Mount Kailash, she radiates the warmth that softens his ascetic severity. Yet within that serenity is the power of all the goddesses — the potential to become the lion-riding Durga or the dark, storm-eyed Kali when the world needs defending.

Mount/Vahana: Lion or tiger, representing courage, power and her latent warrior nature. While gentle in her most common form, her vahana is a reminder that she carries within her the force to vanquish evil.

Mythological role: Parvati’s love story with Shiva is one of devotion and persistence. Born as the daughter of the mountain king Himavan, she fell in love with Shiva, the god of destruction, who was lost in deep meditation. Her devotion was tested by years of austerity and trials, until Shiva finally accepted her as his wife. Together, they are the divine couple whose union balances ascetic withdrawal and earthly engagement.

As a mother, Parvati is nurturing yet fiercely protective — the one who fashioned Ganesha from her own body and defended her privacy against even Shiva himself. Her many forms represent the full spectrum of the feminine divine: the giver of food as Annapurna, the destroyer of demons as Durga, the liberator as Kali.

Consort and family: Wife of Shiva, mother of Ganesha and Kartikeya

Associated festivals: Teej (celebrating marital devotion), Navratri (in her various forms)

Worship and significance: Parvati is worshipped by women for marital happiness, fertility and family well-being. She’s also invoked for strength and balance, as she embodies the union of compassion and power.

Fascinating fact: In one tale, Parvati playfully covered Shiva’s eyes from behind, unaware that without his gaze, the universe was plunged into darkness. To restore the balance, she transformed into her radiant golden form, Mahagauri, bringing light back to the cosmos.

Radha

The eternal beloved, embodiment of devotion

Domain: Divine love, spiritual longing, union with the divine

Symbolism: Lotus for purity of heart, veil for modesty, pastoral settings for the soul’s journey, and her inseparable connection to Krishna as the soul is to a deity

Appearance: Radha’s beauty is the kind that pulls at the heart — not through grandeur, but through the quiet ache of longing. Her skin is luminous, her eyes large and dark, holding both joy and the weight of separation. She wears a flowing lehenga in deep crimson or midnight blue, adorned with golden embroidery that catches the sun. A long veil frames her face, shifting with the breeze as she moves through the meadows of the town of Vrindavan.

In art, she’s almost always shown glancing toward Krishna, her posture poised between approach and retreat. Her hands may cradle a garland of fresh jasmine meant for him, or a pot of butter she will let disappear into his thieving hands. The landscape around her — the river Yamuna, the blossoming kadamba trees — seems to bend subtly toward her, as if drawn to the devotion she radiates.

Mount/Vahana: None. Radha moves through the pastoral world on foot, walking the same cow-trodden paths as Krishna, her presence transforming the fields and forests into sacred space.

Mythological role: Radha’s love for Krishna is the gold standard of devotion in Hinduism — selfless, unbound by social convention and beyond the reach of time. Though she’s not mentioned in the earliest scriptures, later devotional literature, especially in the Bhagavata Purana and the poetry of Jayadeva’s Gita Govinda, elevates her to demigod status. She’s the human soul (jivatma) yearning for reunion with the supreme soul (paramatma), her longing for Krishna standing in for humanity’s longing for the divine. 

Their relationship is one of pure connection. Even when separated, Radha feels Krishna’s presence in every breath, and her yearning is considered even more powerful than the joy of union — for it keeps the heart in constant remembrance of the beloved.

Consort and family: Beloved of Krishna; often depicted as his spiritual counterpart rather than a worldly consort

Associated festivals: Rasa Lila reenactments during Holi and Janmashtami; Radhashtami, celebrating her birth

Worship and significance: Radha is worshipped alongside Krishna in many temples, especially in the Gaudiya Vaishnava tradition, where she’s revered as the source of Krishna’s joy. Devotees seek her grace to cultivate pure, unconditional love for the divine.

Fascinating fact: In some traditions, Radha is considered an incarnation of Lakshmi, born to be Krishna’s eternal companion. Her name is often invoked first in chants — “Radhe Krishna” — as if to approach the beloved through the one who knows him best.

Rama

The noble prince, upholder of dharma, the right way of living 

Domain: Virtue, moral duty, justice, kingship, protection of the righteous

Symbolism: Bow and arrow for readiness and skill in battle, blue skin for divine origin, simple yet regal garments for humility in leadership

Appearance: Rama stands with the quiet authority of a man who knows his strength and has no need to boast. His skin is the rich blue of a twilight sky, his posture upright and composed. He wears a golden crown that catches the sun, yet his garments are simple — the saffron robes of an exile rather than the ornate silks of a king. Across his shoulder rests a quiver of arrows, and in his hand, his bow is always ready, a natural extension of himself rather than an ornament.

His expression is calm, even in the face of war. There’s a gentleness in his gaze that belies the steel in his resolve — a leader whose strength lies as much in compassion as in martial skill. In art, he is often shown alongside Sita, Lakshmana and Hanuman, forming the ideal vision of a harmonious household and righteous rule.

Mount/Vahana: Rama has no permanent animal mount. In the Ramayana, he travels on foot, by chariot, or with the aid of allies like Hanuman. His lack of a vahana underscores his humanity — the idea that righteousness and divine purpose can be lived out in the mortal world without supernatural crutches.

Mythological role: Rama’s life is told in the epic Ramayana, where he is born as the prince of Ayodhya, the seventh avatar of Vishnu, sent to destroy the demon king Ravana. When his stepmother’s scheming leads to his exile, he accepts the decree without anger, honoring his father’s word above his own comfort. For 14 years, he roams the forests with Sita and his younger brother, Lakshmana, defending sages and villages from demons.

The defining trial of his life comes when Sita is abducted by Ravana. With the help of Hanuman and an army of vanaras (monkey warriors), Rama wages war on the island kingdom of Lanka, eventually killing Ravana and restoring order. His reign after returning to Ayodhya is remembered as Rama Rajya — an era of justice, peace and prosperity.

Consort and family: Husband of Sita, brother to Lakshmana, Bharata and Shatrughna. Son of King Dasharatha and Queen Kaushalya

Associated festivals: Rama Navami (his birth), Diwali (marking his return to Ayodhya

Worship and significance: Rama is revered as the perfect man — a warrior without cruelty, a ruler without arrogance, a husband without neglect. Devotees seek his blessing for moral clarity and the strength to act in accordance with dharma, even when it is costly.

Fascinating fact: In some folk retellings, Rama’s bow was so powerful that only he could lift it — he proved his worth to marry Sita by stringing it with effortless grace, a feat no other suitor could manage.

Saraswati

The serene muse, goddess of wisdom, music and the arts

Domain: Knowledge, learning, speech, music, poetry, truth

Symbolism: Veena (lute) for harmony and creativity, white lotus for purity of mind, flowing river for the unending stream of wisdom, swan for discernment

Appearance: Saraswati is the embodiment of clarity and calm — a vision in white, untouched by the dust of greed or the heat of passion. Her skin is pale and luminous, her long hair flowing like dark silk down her back. She wears a simple white sari with a golden border, the fabric so light it moves like water when she shifts. A garland of fresh jasmine hangs around her neck, and her forehead is marked with the tilak of concentration.

In her hands, she cradles the veena, each note she plays carrying the resonance of cosmic truth. A white lotus blooms beneath her feet, symbolizing the mind’s ability to rise unstained from the muddy waters of ignorance. Behind her, the gentle current of a river often winds through the scene — a reminder of her origin as the goddess of the Saraswati River, whose sacred waters nourished the Vedic civilization.

Mount/Vahana: Swan (hamsa), representing the ability to separate truth from falsehood. In some depictions, she rides a graceful peacock, whose beauty is balanced by its vigilance against snakes — a metaphor for guarding wisdom against corruption.

Mythological role: Saraswati is said to have been present at creation itself, when Brahma called upon her to bring order to the chaos. With her wisdom, she gave names to all things, creating speech and language. She is the inspiration behind poetry, the patron of scholars, and the divine voice that flows through musicians’ hands.

Her presence is subtle yet essential — in mythology, gods and mortals alike call upon her before embarking on intellectual or creative endeavors. Without Saraswati, knowledge remains dormant; with her, it becomes luminous and transformative.

Consort and family: In some traditions, consort of Brahma; in others, she stands alone as an independent force. 

Associated festivals: Vasant Panchami, when devotees dress in yellow, offer her flowers, and keep books and instruments before her image for blessing

Worship and significance: Students, artists and seekers of truth invoke her for clarity of mind and eloquence of speech. Unlike deities who grant material boons, Saraswati bestows treasures that cannot be spent — the kind that grow the more they are shared.

Fascinating fact: It’s considered inauspicious to ask Saraswati for wealth, as she is believed to leave when greed enters. In some households, her image is kept in a quiet corner, away from noisy celebration, to honor her preference for peaceful contemplation.

Shiva

The great ascetic, destroyer of illusions, lord of transformation

Domain: Destruction (as renewal), transformation, meditation, time, cosmic balance

Symbolism: Trident (trishula) for the three aspects of existence (creation, preservation, destruction), crescent moon for mastery over time, serpent for fearlessness, river Ganga flowing from his hair for life-giving power, drum (damaru) for the cosmic sound of creation

Appearance: Shiva’s presence is both serene and terrifying — the stillness of a mountain and the force of a storm. His skin is the cool ash-gray of cremation grounds, reminding all that life is temporary and death only a doorway. His hair is long and matted into jata dreads, coiled high upon his head to cradle the Ganga as it flows down from the heavens. A crescent moon glints among his locks, its silver light softening the fire of his third eye.

Around his neck rests a coiled cobra, unmoving, its forked tongue tasting the air — a symbol of Shiva’s mastery over fear and death. His eyes, when open, seem to look through lifetimes; when closed, they turn inward, diving into the infinite void. He wears a tiger skin around his waist, signifying his victory over animal instincts, and rudraksha beads for spiritual focus. In his hand, the trident gleams like lightning, and at his side the damaru beats out the rhythm to which the universe dances.

In his most iconic form, Shiva appears as Nataraja, the Lord of the Dance. With one leg lifted in a graceful arc and the other pressing down on the dwarf of ignorance, Apasmara, Shiva performs the tandava — the cosmic dance of creation, preservation and destruction. In his four arms he has fire, the damaru drum, a gesture of protection, and a hand pointing to his raised foot, offering liberation. Encircled by a halo of flames, Nataraja is a vision of the universe in motion: every heartbeat, every birth and every dissolution bound together in a rhythm that never ceases.

Mount/Vahana: Nandi, the white bull — a symbol of strength, virility and unwavering devotion. Nandi is Shiva’s constant companion, often depicted kneeling in reverence, facing the entrance of Shiva’s temples.

Mythological role: Shiva is one-third of the Hindu Trimurti, alongside Brahma the creator and Vishnu the preserver. His role as destroyer is often misunderstood; he ends cycles so new ones can begin, clearing away stagnation. He’s the patron of ascetics, yogis and those who seek truth beyond illusion.

His stories are as varied as they are powerful: swallowing the deadly poison (halahala) churned from the cosmic ocean to save creation — the act that turned his throat blue and earned him the name Neelkanth; unleashing his third eye to burn desire to ashes; dancing the Tandava, a cosmic performance that both creates and destroys worlds.

Consort and family: Husband of Parvati; father of Ganesha and Kartikeya

Associated festivals: Maha Shivaratri, when devotees fast, chant and keep vigil through the night in his honor.

Worship and significance: Shiva is worshipped in the form of the lingam, a phallic symbol of divine energy and creative potential. Devotees seek his blessing for liberation from worldly attachments and the courage to face transformation.

Fascinating fact: In many villages, Shiva is considered the most approachable of the great gods — Bholenath, the simple lord — quick to grant blessings to anyone who approaches him with sincerity, regardless of status or ritual precision.

Shukra

The teacher of demons, master of resurrection

Domain: Wealth, pleasure, diplomacy, resurrection, the planet Venus

Symbolism: The staff for wisdom, the water pot for life-giving knowledge, Venus for beauty and prosperity

Appearance: Shukra’s presence is calm yet commanding, with skin like polished sandalwood and eyes that gleam with patient intelligence. His white beard and flowing hair mark the wisdom of ages, while his garments shimmer with the soft sheen of silver — the light of Venus caught in fabric. In one hand he holds a danda (staff), in the other a kamandalu (water vessel) said to carry the sacred nectar of life itself.

Mount/Vahana: Often depicted seated on a white horse or in a chariot drawn by eight horses, each representing a different aspect of worldly desire.

Mythological role: Shukra serves as the guru to the asuras (often translated as “demons”), guiding them with cunning strategy and unmatched knowledge of the cosmos. His most prized possession is the Sanjivani Vidya, the secret art of reviving the dead — a gift from Shiva after intense penance. This power has tipped the scales in many battles, forcing the devas (gods) to find new ways to win. Despite his loyalty to the asuras, Shukra is also revered by humans seeking prosperity, charm and the ability to turn rivals into allies.

Consort and family: Married to Jayanti, daughter of Indra; father of Devayani, whose own stories weave through the Mahabharata

Associated festivals: Shukravar (Fridays), dedicated to Venus, are considered auspicious for his worship. 

Worship and significance: Followers seek Shukra’s blessing for wealth, harmonious relationships and diplomatic skill — but also for protection against enemies, knowing his allegiance to the asuras makes him an expert in countering adversaries.

Fascinating fact: In astrology, Shukra is linked to artistic talent and sensual pleasures; those under his favor are said to possess irresistible charm and an eye for beauty.

Sita

The steadfast queen, born of the earth and emblem of virtue

Domain: Purity, devotion, courage, self-sacrifice, the ideal of righteous womanhood

Symbolism: Lotus for grace and spiritual beauty, the Earth as her mother, fire as a test of truth, her role as Rama’s equal in love and suffering

Appearance: Sita’s beauty is quiet but unshakable — the kind that deepens the longer you look. Her skin carries the glow of fresh earth after rain, and her eyes, large and steady, hold both tenderness and the weight of trials endured. She wears silks in shades of gold and crimson, with a long veil that frames her face and flows down her back like a stream of sunlight. Jewels gleam lightly at her wrists and neck, never ostentatious, as if she wears them more from tradition than vanity.

In art, she is often shown beside Rama, her posture dignified but never submissive — her head high, her gaze calm. In exile, she appears barefoot among the forest trees, her sari plain, her only ornaments the garlands of flowers she strings with her own hands.

Mount/Vahana: None. Sita’s journeys are always made on foot or by chariot, sharing the same path as her companions. Her lack of a mount reflects her role as an equal partner in hardship rather than a divine figure set apart from mortal trials.

Mythological role: Sita’s life is told in the Ramayana. Found as an infant in a furrow while King Janaka was plowing the fields, she is said to be the daughter of Bhumi Devi, the Earth goddess herself. She grows to marry Rama after he wins her hand by stringing the great bow of Shiva — a feat no other suitor could accomplish.

Her devotion to Rama is absolute: When he’s exiled to the forest for 14 years, she insists on joining him, trading palace comforts for the rigors of wilderness. Her greatest trial comes when she’s abducted by the demon Ravana and held captive in Lanka. Despite months of pressure, she remains unshaken in her loyalty, her only comfort the hope of Rama’s arrival.

After her rescue, she endures the Agni Pariksha, the trial by fire, to prove her purity. In later life, when her character is doubted once more, she chooses to return to the embrace of her mother, the Earth, which parts to receive her — a final act of dignity and self-possession.

Consort and family: Wife of Rama, daughter of King Janaka and Queen Sunaina

Associated festivals: Sita Navami, celebrated especially in Mithila, her birthplace.

Worship and significance: Sita is revered as the ideal of marital devotion, but also as a figure of resilience and moral strength. She embodies the idea that true virtue remains intact, even in the face of injustice.

Fascinating fact: In some folk traditions, Sita is worshipped as an incarnation of Lakshmi, born to accompany Vishnu’s avatar Rama in his earthly mission — making her both queen and goddess.

Vishnu

The preserver and protector of cosmic order

Domain: Preservation, protection of dharma, restoration of balance, compassion

Symbolism: Conch (shankha) for the sound of creation, discus (chakra) for the mind’s sharpness and the destruction of evil, mace (gada) for strength, lotus (padma) for purity rising from the world’s chaos

Appearance: Vishnu’s form is majestic yet serene — the steady, unshakable center of the universe. His skin is the rich blue of the deepest ocean, his eyes calm pools that seem to hold the reflection of the cosmos itself. He’s adorned in golden silk garments and an abundance of jewels — armlets, necklaces, a crown studded with rare gems — yet nothing about him feels over the top. It’s as if the wealth of creation naturally rests upon him.

In his four hands, he holds his eternal emblems: the lotus, delicate and alive; the mace, heavy with power; the discus, spinning and radiant like a miniature sun; and the conch, ready to sound the victory of righteousness. His posture is relaxed but alert, the quiet readiness of a ruler who acts when the time is right.

Mount/Vahana: Garuda, the mighty eagle, with a wingspan that can blot out the sun. Garuda’s golden feathers flash like lightning as he soars, carrying Vishnu effortlessly across the three worlds: the heavens, the Earth and the underworld. He’s both mount and ally, a living embodiment of speed, loyalty and fearlessness.

Mythological role: Vishnu is the preserver of the Hindu Trimurti, standing alongside Brahma the creator and Shiva the destroyer. His duty is to maintain cosmic balance, stepping into the world whenever evil threatens to overwhelm good. To do this, he takes on avatars — earthly incarnations — to set things right. These include Rama, the noble prince; Krishna, the divine lover and strategist; Narasimha, the man-lion who burst from a pillar to save his devotee; and many others.

When not incarnated, Vishnu rests upon the infinite serpent Ananta (Shesha), floating on the cosmic ocean. From his navel grows the lotus that births Brahma, showing that preservation isn’t separate from creation but intertwined with it.

Consort and family: Married to Lakshmi, goddess of wealth and prosperity, who accompanies him in each of his avatars

Associated festivals: Vaikuntha Ekadashi, Janmashtami (for Krishna), Rama Navami (for Rama)

Worship and significance: Vishnu is worshipped across India in many forms, from the grandeur of temple idols to the small household shrines where his avatars are honored. Devotees seek him for protection, moral clarity, and the assurance that no matter how dark the times, the preserver will arrive.

Fascinating fact: Vishnu’s discus, the Sudarshana Chakra, is said to move at the speed of thought and can cut through anything — but it only strikes when guided by righteousness, never in anger or vanity. –Wally

---

OH MY GODS!

Major Gods of Ancient Egypt

Gods of the Old Testament 

The Witch’s Guide to the Equinox: The Power of Balance at Mabon and Ostara

Discover how to use the Autumn and Spring Equinoxes in your Wicca practice with rituals, symbolism and spells.

There’s an undeniable magic to the equinox. The sun doesn’t linger, and the shadows don’t fight for dominance. For one breath-held moment, they simply coexist. The world feels balanced.

Witches, pagans and stargazers alike have long marked this moment. Twice a year, day and night are in perfect equilibrium — neither winning, neither waning. It’s a rare kind of symmetry in a world that’s always one way or another.

The equinox is nature’s mirror. Whether you’re gathering what’s grown at Mabon or sowing what’s possible at Ostara, you’re standing at a point of balance — not static, but shifting. It’s a moment to notice what’s reflected back at you … and decide what belongs in the next season.

In the Greek myth, Hades abducts Persephone as she gathers flowers, spiriting her away to the land of the dead — a moment that marks the mythic turn from light to dark. The goddess of spring becomes Queen of the Underworld.

What Is an Equinox, Exactly? 

The word equinox comes from the Latin aequus (equal) and nox (night), and it refers to the two points in the year when the sun crosses the celestial equator. On these two days — typically around March 20 and September 22 — we experience nearly equal amounts of daylight and darkness, no matter where we live on Earth.

Think of it as a cosmic balancing act — a time when the tilt of the Earth gives everyone a moment of stillness before tipping toward longer nights (Mabon) or longer days (Ostara).

Ancient cultures noticed.

• The Maya built temples like Chichén Itzá, where on the equinox, sunlight casts a serpent-like shadow that slithers down the pyramid’s steps — a dazzling tribute to the god Kukulkan.

• The Greeks saw this season as the time when Persephone descended into the Underworld, tipping the world toward darkness and marking the start of autumn.

• For Druids, the momentary balance between light and dark was more than symbolic; it was a spiritual threshold, when the veil between worlds thinned and subtle energies stirred.

So why do modern witches and pagans care about equinoxes?

Because balance is everything in magic.

The equinox invites you to stand in between two forces — light and shadow, growth and decay, action and rest — and find where you belong in that moment. It’s a sacred mirror for your own life’s rhythm.

Whether you’re closing a chapter or opening a new one, this is the time to ask:

• What am I growing?

• What am I releasing?

• What needs to come into balance?

What Equinox Energy Feels Like

There’s a quiet ache to the equinox — like standing at the threshold of a door you’re not quite ready to close, or opening one you’re not sure you deserve to walk through yet. It’s the tension of opposites, held not in conflict, but in coexistence.

This energy isn’t loud. It hums.

It invites reflection, not reaction.

Whether you’re in the golden hush of Mabon or the dew-sparkled stirrings of Ostara, the equinox is that sacred in-between where transformation happens. Think crossroads, dusk, dawn, the last leaf before the tree goes bare. That’s equinox energy: a spell of stillness before the turn.

Some witches use this time to:

• Do shadow work (for Mabon) or intention setting (for Ostara)

• Reorganize altars to reflect both sun and moon energy

• Meditate with balance-themed tarot cards like Temperance, Justice or The Two of Pentacles

• Perform rituals that honor duality: life and death, inner and outer, giving and receiving

This is a sacred pause in the wheel — the fulcrum where the year pivots. Don’t rush it. Feel it.

Equinox Themes to Explore in Your Practice

The equinox is nature’s reminder that we’re never just one thing. We’re always becoming — shedding and growing, grieving and hoping, ending and beginning. Use this moment to align your practice with that energy of both/and rather than either/or.

Here are some core themes to work with:

1. Balance and duality

The obvious one — but also the most personal. What areas of your life feel lopsided? What would it feel like to give your joy and your grief equal space at the altar?

Ideas:

• Do a two-column journal exercise (Light / Shadow, Give / Receive)

• Meditate on the Justice or Temperance tarot cards

• Create a visual altar with half sun, half moon symbolism

2. Shadow and light

This is the season of facing contradictions. At Mabon, the light is fading — you may feel a pull toward introspection, shadow work and letting go. At Ostara, light returns — bringing clarity, confidence and growth.

Ideas:

• Light a candle and speak aloud one thing you’re releasing, one thing you’re embracing

• Work with herbs that straddle light and dark, like mugwort or rosemary

• Create an herbal sachet with both stimulating and calming properties

3. Harvest and seeding

If it’s Mabon, the second harvest is here — a time to gather, give thanks and prepare to rest.

If it’s Ostara, it’s all about preparing the soil for the bounty to come.

Ideas:

• Write a gratitude list for everything you’ve “harvested” this year (lessons count!)

• Do a seed planting ritual for a new project or intention

• Bake bread or cook with seasonal produce as a sacred act

4. Thresholds and transitions

The equinox is a hinge — a pause in the wheel. Honor that stillness. Embrace that liminal magic.

Ideas:

• Craft a charm bag for safe passage through change

• Take a solitary walk at sunrise or sunset and listen for signs

• Perform a cleansing ritual or floor wash to mark a new beginning

Wicca Rituals for Equinox Magic

The equinox isn’t about big dramatic gestures. It’s about the subtle magic of recalibration — aligning yourself with the rhythms of the Earth and asking, What do I need to feel whole right now?

These simple rituals are designed to help you honor the season, balance and your own inner turning.

Mabon Rituals for the Autumn Equinox, the Second Harvest

1. The Gratitude Altar

Gather apples, acorns, corn husks, dried herbs and anything that represents abundance in your life. Arrange them on your altar, and as you place each item, say aloud one thing you’re thankful for — no matter how small.

Bonus: Write each one on a bay leaf and burn them in a fire-safe dish or cauldron to send your thanks skyward.

2. Letting Go Fire Spell

Write down what you’re ready to release: habits, fears, bitterness. Fold the paper and place it beneath a black or brown candle. As it burns, whisper:

“As the sun wanes and leaves fall low,
I thank, I bless, I let it go.”

3. Sip the Season

Make a spiced cider, tea or wine. Stir in your intentions with cinnamon or star anise. As you sip, visualize warmth radiating from your center, grounding you for the darker months ahead.

Ostara Rituals for the Spring Equinox, the Season of Renewal

1. Seed Blessing

Take seeds (flowers, herbs or even just intentions written on paper). Hold them in your hands, breathe on them, and say:

“In fertile earth, I plant my will.
With sun and rain, I grow until
My dreams take root and rise anew —
As spring begins, so shall I, too.”

Plant them in soil — or in a small pot to nurture on your windowsill.

2. Sunrise Candle Spell

Wake early and light a white or pale yellow candle at sunrise. As the light grows, reflect on what’s coming to life in your own world. Whisper an affirmation with the first rays:

“With this light, I rise again.
Bright beginnings, banish pain.”

3. Equinox Egg Magic

Decorate eggs with symbols of your hopes and intentions. Bury them in the earth or crack them into compost to “feed” your magic into the world.

Tools, Herbs and Symbols of the Equinox

Every witch knows that magic isn’t just in what you do; it’s in what you surround yourself with. The equinox invites you to work with items that embody balance, duality and seasonal shift. Whether you’re decorating your altar or crafting a spell, here’s what to reach for.

Crystals

Each of these stones balances opposing energies or helps you tune into the seasonal transition.

• Labradorite: For embracing change and connecting with the magic between worlds

• Citrine: Sunlight in solid form; promotes joy and confidence

• Smoky quartz: Grounding, releasing, shadow-friendly

• Moonstone: Especially for Ostara; honors intuition and cyclical energy

• Obsidian: Especially for Mabon; helps surface buried truths

Place two on your altar — one for light, one for shadow — to physically embody balance.

Herbs and Foods

These herbs reflect both the season’s energy and the magical intentions tied to it.

For Mabon:

• Rosemary: Memory, cleansing, protection

• Mugwort: Dreamwork, thresholds, seeing beyond

• Marigold: Protection and gratitude

• Thyme: Courage to release and transition

• Apples: Symbol of knowledge, love and the harvest (cut one crosswise to reveal the pentacle)

For Ostara:

• Lavender: Clarity, calm and gentle growth

• Nettle: Protection, transformation

• Dandelion: Resilience and sunlight energy

• Mint: Fresh starts and mental clarity

• Eggshells: Crushed for warding and blessing soil

Brew into teas, burn as incense or scatter around your altar.

Colors

Think of your altar or ritual setup as a visual spell.

Mabon:

• Deep red, burnt orange, gold, brown, plum

Ostara:

• Pale green, pastel pink, cream, robin’s egg blue, yellow

Mix warm and cool tones to evoke the sense of transition and balance.

Symbols and Objects

Simple items you likely already have can carry rich meaning.

• Eggs: Fertility, potential, the mystery of beginnings (Ostara)

• Scales or balance symbols: Literal or metaphorical

• Fallen leaves or fresh flowers: Seasonal anchoring

• Sun and moon imagery: Perfect visual shorthand for the equinox

• Mirror: Self-reflection, shadow work, duality

Pro tip: For an easy equinox altar, use a mirror as your base, place a candle at the center, and arrange light/dark objects symmetrically.

---

All of these are suggestions. Let your practice be personal, intuitive and playful. You’re not trying to copy someone else’s ritual. You’re writing your own spellbook, one equinox at a time.

Equinox Spells for Balance and Renewal

These spells are written in rhyme — not just for beauty, but because rhythm makes magic easier to remember and recite. Speak them with intention, and let the words ripple out like a charm on the wind.

Mabon Spell: Letting Go and Giving Thanks

“Leaves fall low, the sun bows down,
The harvest ends in golden crown.
I give my thanks, I bless the past,
And set down burdens I held fast.

Dark and light in balance meet —
I stand with shadows at my feet.
What’s done is done; what’s mine, remains.
I open space for gentler gains.”

Speak this while lighting a candle and placing offerings on your altar — such as dried herbs, bay leaves or fruit. 

You can also whisper it during a walk through autumn woods as you scatter a handful of fallen leaves.

Ostara Spell: Planting Seeds of Intention

“Bright the bud, and bold the breeze,
Awake the roots, unbind the freeze.
With open hands and heart in bloom,
I stir the light, dispel the gloom.

Let what’s hidden start to grow,
From dream to leaf, from spark to glow.
In egg and soil my wishes lie,
To rise and bloom beneath spring’s sky.”

Use this while planting seeds or charging symbolic ones (paper, intentions, charms). Light a white or yellow candle and recite the spell while holding the seed or token in your palm.

Equal Parts Magic and Meaning

The equinox is the hush before the shift, the breath between words, the sacred pause that says, You can begin again.

Whether you’ve filled your altar with apples or planted your first spring seeds, this turning of the wheel invites you to stop and listen — to the Earth, to your spirit, to the balance you crave and the imbalance you’re ready to face.

Honor the balance. Gather what’s ripe, and set in motion what you most desire. –Wally

Jesus the Radical

Meet the Jesus you weren’t taught in Sunday school. How Christ’s message defied norms and continues to be misunderstood. 

If you grew up with a sanitized, polite version of Jesus — the one who smiled at children, patted sheep on the head, and delivered motivational speeches about kindness — you were misled. 

The real Jesus was a troublemaker, a rule-breaker, and a threat to religious and political elites. He was a man who told his followers to abandon their families, rebuked the religious authorities of his day, and welcomed women, tax collectors and sinners into his inner circle. He preached radical nonviolence while shaking up every power structure around him. And yet, modern Christianity has often sanitized him, turning a revolutionary into a figurehead for power-hungry, greedy, corrupt and close-minded institutions he surely would have condemned.

So, what did Jesus actually teach? And how has he been completely misunderstood? Let’s start with the ways he upended everything people thought they knew about God, religion and power.

How Jesus Was a Radical

He tore down religious authority.  

Jesus didn’t uphold the religious establishment. He wanted to dismantle it.

The Pharisees and Sadducees — the religious gatekeepers of his time — were obsessed with rules, from Sabbath restrictions to purity laws. Jesus? He ignored them. He healed people on the Sabbath (Mark 3:1-6), touched lepers, and even ate with “unclean” sinners. But he didn’t stop there: He actively attacked their authority, calling them “blind guides” and “hypocrites” (Matthew 23:13-24).

Perhaps the most blatant act of defiance came when he stormed into the Temple, flipped over tables, and drove out money changers with a whip (John 2:13-16). That was an assault on the entire system of religious corruption that profited from people’s faith. No wonder they wanted him dead.

He rejected earthly power (and made Rome nervous). 

The Jewish people were expecting a military messiah — someone to overthrow the Roman Empire and restore Israel’s glory. Instead, they got a man who rode into town on a donkey — yes, a humble beast, but also a deliberate nod to prophecy. Their savior wasn’t a warrior, though; he told people to “turn the other cheek” (Matthew 5:39) and “love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:39). What a letdown.

Jesus’ entire Kingdom of God message was subversive because it challenged both Rome and Jewish leadership. When people tried to trap him by asking if they should pay taxes, Jesus delivered his famous line: “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to God what is God’s” (Mark 12:17). It wasn’t just a clever dodge; it was a denial of Rome’s ultimate authority. His kingdom wasn’t built on armies and taxes, but on justice, mercy and radical love. That made him a political liability.

He told people to abandon their families. 

This one rarely makes it into the warm-and-fuzzy Jesus narrative. Jesus wasn’t about family values — at least, not in the traditional sense.

He explicitly told people to leave their families behind if they wanted to follow him:

“If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters — yes, even their own life — such a person cannot be my disciple.” (Luke 14:26)

Hate your parents? That’s… extreme. But Jesus wasn’t advocating literal hatred; he was saying that loyalty to God’s kingdom had to come first, even before family obligations. In a society where family was everything, this was shockingly countercultural.

And when someone told him, “Hey, I’ll follow you, but first let me go bury my father,” Jesus replied, “Let the dead bury their own dead” (Luke 9:60). Translation: No excuses. This mission is urgent. Of course he did think the end times were going to happen within his lifetime. 

He elevated women in a society that saw them as inferior. 

Women in first-century Judea weren’t exactly treated as equals. They couldn’t testify in court, they were largely excluded from religious leadership, and they were often considered property. Yet Jesus shattered these norms.

• He taught women as disciples (Luke 10:38-42), something unheard of for a Jewish rabbi.

• He defended a woman caught in adultery from being stoned, challenging a law everyone accepted (John 8:1-11).

• He spoke to a Samaritan woman at a well (John 4:7-26), ignoring racial, gender and religious taboos in one go.

• Mary Magdalene, not Peter nor any other male disciple, was the first to witness and proclaim his resurrection (John 20:11-18).

In a culture where a woman’s testimony was considered worthless, Jesus entrusted the most important message in Christian history to a woman. If that’s not radical, what is?

How Jesus Is Misunderstood Today

He wasn’t a champion of organized religion. 

Ironically, many churches today function like the Pharisees — obsessed with rules, hierarchy and institutional power. But Jesus was against organized religion; he was about tearing down barriers between people and God.

When he said, “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath” (Mark 2:27), he was dismantling the idea that religious rituals were more important than people. Today, some Christian institutions do the opposite — using doctrine to exclude, judge or control.

Jesus’ kingdom wasn’t about political power. 

Some modern groups try to hijack Jesus for political agendas — whether it’s nationalism, capitalism or theocracy. But Jesus never sought earthly power. He said, “My kingdom is not of this world” (John 18:36), which means he wasn’t interested in ruling governments.

Any time Jesus is used to justify violence, nationalism or oppression, we’ve strayed far from his teachings.

Christianity has made Jesus more about rules than love. 

Jesus didn’t say, Follow these 613 laws and you’ll be saved. He said, Love God and love your neighbor — that’s the whole deal (Matthew 22:37-40). But over time, his message got lost in a maze of rules, shame and endless theological debates about who’s in and who’s out.

The irony? Jesus spent most of his time calling out religious folks for their obsession with rules while embracing the most marginalized people in society.

Reclaiming the Radical Jesus

The real Jesus wasn’t a goody-goody figurehead of religion — he was a revolutionary who upended the status quo. He was killed precisely because he was a threat to those holding religious and political power.

Those who follow him should reject the sanitized, institutionalized version of Jesus and embrace the radical, table-flipping, rule-breaking teacher who challenged authority, welcomed the outcasts, and preached a love so dangerous it got him executed.

So the question is: Are we following the real Jesus, or just a comfortable version of him? –Wally

The First Homosexuals at Wrightwood 659: Rewriting Art History With a Queer Lens

This powerful global exhibition traces the emergence of queer identity through more than 300 artworks — at a time when LGBTQ+ visibility matters more than ever.

Peace 1 by Zhang Huan, 2001

When Wally and I heard about The First Homosexuals: The Birth of a New Identity, 1869–1939 at Wrightwood 659, we were immediately intrigued. We had missed the first iteration, which ran in 2022. This new presentation promised to be larger in scale, and suggested something truly ambitious — a visual journey recontextualizing art history by presenting a wide range of works through a queer lens. 

This exhibition is especially important because it comes at a perilous time when LGBTQ+ voices are increasingly under attack across political and cultural spheres. In the face of bans, restrictions on school curricula, and renewed efforts to limit or erase queer visibility, The First Homosexuals reclaims that space by affirming that queer identity has an enduring, complex and creative legacy. 

““The First Homosexuals” is especially important because it comes at a perilous time when LGBTQ+ voices are increasingly under attack across political and cultural spheres. ”

I was reminded of Masculin/Masculin, a provocative exhibition Wally and I saw at the Musée d’Orsay in 2013. Drawing primarily from European painting and sculpture, the show turned the traditional male gaze on its head — shifting the focus from the female form, so often idealized in art, to the male nude. By presenting works from 1800 to the early aughts, the show invited viewers to reconsider the male body, not just as a symbol of strength or virility but as an object of desire.

While Masculin/Masculin traced the idealization of the male body in European art, it didn’t place those depictions within the broader context of queer history. The First Homosexuals at Wrightwood 659 takes that next step, expanding the lens across five continents and inviting viewers to consider queerness as something shaped by history, society and culture — often coded, but always present. 

The First Homosexuals included more than 300 works by 125 queer artists from 40 countries.

Its point of departure is 1869, when Karl-Maria Kertbeny, an Austrian-Hungarian writer and activist, introduced the term “homosexual” anonymously in a German pamphlet advocating reform of Prussian sodomy laws — a linguistic turning point that shifted same-sex love from act to identity. 

You’ll definitely need to book ahead (and book early) when you see a show at Wrightwood 659.

Our Arrival at Wrightwood 659 in Lincoln Park

After breakfast at one of our favorite spots, the Bourgeois Pig, Wally and I strolled up the leafy stretch of Wrightwood Avenue in Chicago’s Lincoln Park. We were surprised to find a modest four-story red brick façade at 659. But the small group forming outside and a sign promoting the exhibition reassured us that we were in the right place.

The modern concrete building attached to the exhibit space is actually the home of one of the cofounders of Wrightwood 659.

I initially assumed the gallery’s entrance was through the modern concrete cube next door — but that was actually the private residence of media entrepreneur and philanthropist Fred Eychaner and his husband, Danny Leung. Eychaner is the founder of the Alphawood Foundation, a charitable organization, and cofounder of Wrightwood 659.

Inside, a docent greeted us in the light-filled atrium and explained that the building was constructed in the 1920s as an apartment complex. Despite its external appearance, the interiors have been stripped and radically reimagined by Japanese architect Tadao Ando.

A historic apartment building was reimagined as a striking modern art gallery.

Architect Tadao Ando transformed the interior with his minimalist design.

We stood in awe of the space’s understated tranquility. Ando preserved the outer walls, which are clad in irregular, weathered Chicago common brick, an earthy contrast to the interior’s sleek geometric simplicity. 

In the far corner, an Escher-like concrete staircase begins its ascent. More than just a functional connector between levels, it serves as a kind of contemplative path, guiding visitors upward in a calm, deliberate rhythm. It’s a signature Ando gesture: structure becoming experience, architecture becoming journey.

Dance to the Berdash by George Catlin, 1837

Before the Binary: Origins of Queerness

The exhibition unfolds gradually across three floors and eight thematic sections, beginning with “Before the Binary.” This gallery sets the stage for the installation’s sweeping journey, inviting viewers to reconsider how same-sex love and gender diversity have been expressed and celebrated throughout history, long before  queer identity emerged in the form we recognize today.

Prior to the subjugation brought by European colonization, many non-Western cultures regarded same-sex behavior as a fluid part of life rather than a fixed identity. This changed dramatically with the arrival of colonial powers, who introduced prejudices and legal systems and cultural prejudices that criminalized same-sex relationships. Along with this intolerance came a new binary: homosexual and heterosexual — categories rooted in 19th century European science and psychology. These labels spread globally reshaping how people understood desire, identity and themselves.

George Catlin’s painting, Dance to the Berdash, depicts a ceremonial dance performed by the Sac and Fox Nation honoring a “two-spirit” individual. The term berdache, used by Catlin, is an outdated and derogatory French term historically applied to two-spirit people. 

In his journals, Catlin describes the scene as “very funny and amusing,” and expresses bewilderment where a “man dressed in woman’s clothes … driven to the most servile and degrading duties” would be celebrated and “looked upon as medicine and sacred.”

Despite his evident bias, Catlin’s work offers a rare glimpse into the deeply spiritual and cultural roles that two-spirit or third-gender individuals have historically held in many Native American communities.

Portrait of Chevalier d'Eon by Jean Condé, published by John Sewell in a 1791 issue of The European Magazine

The Chevalière or Chevalier d’Éon (1728-1810), was an early gender-nonconforming figure and a French diplomat, spy and soldier. 

In 1755, while presenting as a man, d’Éon was sent to Russia disguised as Mademoiselle Lia de Beaumont to persuade Empress Elizabeth I of Russia to ally with France against England and Prussia. From 1777 onward, d’Eon lived publicly as a woman and was officially recognized as such by King Louis XVI.

In this print, d’Éon is portrayed as a middle-aged woman wearing a dark dress with a chemisette, a lace cap and the star of the Order of St. Louis, an honor awarded for distinguished military service and espionage.

As evidence of the shifting political and cultural landscape of the era, d’Éon spent much of her adult life in London, where her gender identity was the subject of constant speculation. It was even the subject of a court trial declaring d’Éon to be a woman, though a surgeon later attested on her death certificate she had “male organs.”

Anacreon and Cupid by Bertel Thorvaldsen, 1824

Bertel Thorvaldsen’s neoclassical Anacreon and Cupid depicts the Ancient Greek poet Anacreon being struck by Cupid’s arrow, causing the older man to fall in love with the youthful god of love. The relief is inspired by Anacreon’s text, Ode III, which ends with Cupid flying away, satisfied he can still attract love with his arrows, while the poet is left alone with his longing. 

The term homosexual didn’t yet exist, and art about the classical past enabled the representation of same-sex eroticism under the guise of historical reference. 

The artist’s nearby ink and graphite sketch literalizes the erotic element of the sculpture, portraying Cupid fondling the poet’s groin. 

In Ancient Greece, the ideal same-sex relationship was seen as one between an older man and a teenage boy. This kind of relationship was tied to ideas about teaching the younger generation how to be good citizens. Same-sex desire was accepted — but only in ways that supported the male-dominated social system.

Portrait of Rosa Bonheur by Anna Klumpke, 1898

Portraits: Icons and Outlaws

“Portraits” features artists who dared to make homosexuality visible long before it was safe or legal to do so. 

American artist Anna Klumpke’s tender pastel portrait captures her partner, Rosa Bonheur, in the final years of the celebrated French painter’s life. The two met in 1895, when Klumpke was 39 and Bonheur was 73. They soon moved in together, and their relationship endured until Bonheur’s death in 1899.

Rosa Bonheur was one of the most renowned animal painters of the 19th century. An independent woman and openly lesbian, she famously obtained official permission from the Paris police to wear men’s clothing — a permit she justified by explaining that traditional women’s attire was impractical for working in stables and slaughterhouses, where she sketched animals for her work.

By the way, there’s a delightful bar, Rosa Bonheur, in Paris, named after this icon. 

Retrato de un Anticuario (Portrait of an Antiquarian) by Robert Montenegro, 1926

Roberto Montenegro’s 1926 portrait of antiques dealer Chucho Reyes is rich with visual codes that still resonate in queer iconography today — a limp wrist, a tilted chin and a wry smile. In the foreground, a silver ball subtly reflects the artist’s own face, a quiet but unmistakable act of self-insertion and queer affirmation.

An early figure in the Mexican muralist movement, Montenegro often pushed against the boundaries of revolutionary aesthetics. In a mural for the Secretaría de Educación Pública in Mexico City, his depiction of a nude, androgynous Saint Sebastian drew criticism for being out of step with official nationalist values. 

Montenegro was ultimately compelled to repaint it. In his private commissions, however, he enjoyed greater artistic freedom — freedom he fully embraced in this intimate and symbolically coded portrait.

Portrait of James Baldwin by Beauford Delaney, 1944

In this vibrant portrait, Beauford Delaney depicts the 20-year-old African American author James Baldwin before the writer’s rise to literary fame. Delaney renders Baldwin’s face in expressive strokes of green, yellow and purple, capturing not just likeness but inner light. The two men, both openly gay and trailblazing artists of color, shared a profound, formative bond. 

Baldwin regarded Delaney as a mentor and father figure. Reflecting on Delaney’s influence, he wrote, “The reality of his seeing caused me to begin to see.” 

Though Baldwin would become a powerful voice in the civil rights movement, his open sexuality often left him marginalized within the movement’s leadership.

He went on to become one of the most influential gay writers of the 20th century, penning such landmark works as Giovanni’s Room (1956).

Profile of a Man With Hibiscus Flower (Felíx) by Glyn Philpot, 1932 

This intimate portrait features Felíx, a French Caribbean model who sat for the British artist Glyn Philpot several times in 1932. The composition, with its flattened perspective and floral motif, recalls Paul Gauguin’s canvas Jeune Homme à la Fleur, evoking themes of sensuality and exoticism. While the painting echoes colonial-era visual tropes, Philpot’s broader oeuvre is distinguished by its empathetic and often dignified representations of Black subjects, challenging the stereotypes prevalent in early 20th century European art. 

Le Bal élégant, La Danse à la campagne (The Elegant Ball, The Country Dance) by Marie Laurencin, 1913

Relationships: Intimate Worlds

The section titled “Relationships” explores the personal and social dimensions of queer lives. From Marie Laurencin’s sensual and playful female imagery to Andreas Andersen’s portrait of his younger brother and his friend, their works reflect the sheer diversity and joy of queer intimacy. 

La Danse (The Dance) by Marie Laurencin, 1919

Marie Laurencin (1883-1956), a French Cubist, created an idiosyncratic body of work that excluded men and placed women at the center, something truly revolutionary considering that she worked in Paris, in an environment dominated by male artists. A member of Pablo Picasso’s gang, Laurencin’s unique take on Cubism is particularly evident in The Elegant Ball, The Country Dance, a fragmented and angular portrayal of two women dancing front and center. 

The canvas The Dance illustrates Laurencin’s departure from Cubism and marks the development of her own visual language, one that embraces a softer, more fluid style in which women’s bodies seem to merge and dissolve into one another. Laurencin’s dreamlike, ethereal compositions represent a feminist counterpoint to the stylistic tendencies of the male-dominated Cubist avant-garde.

Interior With Hendrik Andersen and John Briggs Potter in Florence by Andreas Anderson, 1894

The Norwegian painter Andreas Andersen depicts his younger brother, Hendrik and their friend, American painter John Briggs Potter, when the trio were living together in Florence in 1894. To our modern eyes, this is a stunning image of a homosexual relationship — but the reality is that men of this era didn’t think that loving or having sex with other men was abnormal or put them into a sexual category. 

Potter, who eventually married a woman, was close to Isabella Stuart Gardner of the eponymous Boston museum. The exact relationship between Hendrik and Potter isn’t known, though Potter was painted by a number of known queer painters and himself painted portraits of handsome men.

Sueño marinero (Sailor’s Dream) by Gregorio Prieto, 1932

Gregorio Prieto was a member of the influential Spanish cohort known as the Generation of ’27, alongside the poet

Federico García Lorca. While his work is well known in Spain, it hasn’t received the recognition it merits. 

Prieto’s two paintings exhibited at Wrightwood exemplify his use of the mannequin as a surrealist trope. Prieto employed mannequins as a metaphor for homoerotic love. Indeed, Sailor’s Dream seems to insinuate the act of oral sex, while Full Moon implies stimulation by hand.

Le Sommeil de Manon (Manon’s Sleep) by Madeleine-Jeanne Lemaire, 1907

Changing Bodies, Changing Definitions: Redefining Beauty 

The exhibit then pivots to “Changing Bodies, Changing Definitions, where we witness how the nude evolved in art in relation to shifting conceptions of sexuality. In the 19th century, artists often depicted ambiguously gendered adolescents — but by the early 20th century, those figures gave way to striking portraits of well-muscled men and women. Romaine Brooks’ androgynous nude of her female lover sits alongside Tamara de Lempika’s muscular female nude. 

The French novelist Marcel Proust and his lover, Reynaldo Hahn, referred to Madeleine-Jeanne Lemaire as Maman, or Mother, acknowledging her centrality to queer relationships and networks. Lemaire hosted a regular salon well attended by homosexuals, including Proust, Hahn and others such as Sarah Bernhardt, whose work is also featured in this exhibition.

The close-knit queer relationships that defined Lemaire’s social circle also come through in her painting. While many of her female contemporaries avoided overt eroticism, Lemaire’s Manon’s Sleep presents a nude figure who is neither orientalized nor classicized, her sensuality left unapologetically unframed by allegory or genre.

The recently discarded clothes in the left-hand corner appear to take the shape of a female figure lounging in a chair, perhaps watching the nude woman sleep. Lemaire’s soft color palette, decadent textiles and languid figure also seem to emulate Rococo aesthetics, perhaps in a nod to the genre’s own scenes of erotic subversion.

Nackte Schiffer (Fischer) und Knaben am grünen Gestade (Naked Boatmen [Fishermen] and Boys on the Green Shore by Ludwig von Hofmann, 1900

Ludwig von Hofmann enjoyed a prominent career as a painter in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. At the time, Germany — newly unified — looked to Ancient Greece as a cultural model, embracing public nudity as a sign of health, virtue and classical refinement. This free body culture (abbreviated as FKK in German) encouraged public nudity as a sign not of prurient interest, but of health and moral virtue.

Segregated from urban homosexual culture by questions of class and occupation, this image of nude boys and men, while undeniably homoerotic, works hard to de-emphasize its inherent suggestive qualities through a committed attention to labor.

Wrestlers by Thomas Eakins, 1899

Thomas Eakins, celebrated along with Winslow Homer as two of the finest 19th century American painters, here produced a study for an even bigger painting of a gymnasium featuring, among other scenes, two young men wrestling.

While depicting an actual wrestling move, the painting allows two men a moment of full-body contact that escapes inscription as homosexual. They are, moreover, curiously relaxed, even inert, in what is ostensibly a battle for dominance.

Nu Assis de Profil (Seated Nude in Profile) by Tamara de Lempicka, 1923

Tamara de Lempicka’s seated nude exists in a space of gender nonconformity, much like the artist herself. The figure’s heavily muscled body and tanned face suggest a masculine presence, perhaps shaped by outdoor labor, while the visible breast and porcelain skin point to a more traditionally feminine traits. The body is angled away from the viewer so as to heighten this sense of indeterminacy.

After moving from Poland to Paris in 1918, Lempicka gained recognition for her Art Deco portraits of glamorous, androgynous figures. Her style and subjects reflect her social circle, which included queer women like the writers Vita Sackville-West and Colette, and her own experiences as an openly bisexual woman.

Venus and Amor by Gerda Wegener, 1920

History: Echoes of Antiquity 

One of the most powerful sections, “History,” features works that portray an idealized classical past as an alibi to depict homoerotic imagery. Hans Von Marées’ Five Men in a Landscape feels suspended in a timeless queer utopia, while Rupert Bunny’s muscular Hercules takes on both dragons and sexual subtext. 

Venus and Amor is Gerda Wegener’s vision of lesbian Arcadia. In her uniquely Art Deco style, Wegener depicts a garden populated by the Three Graces, Cupid and Venus, the latter helping Cupid draw his bow. Cupid is represented as distinctly nonbinary, with rosy cheeks and nascent breasts. Like the figure of Puck in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Wegener seems to suggest Cupid’s mischievous nature is connected to his gender transgression. 

When this canvas was completed, Wegener was so popular in France that the government bought three of her works for the Louvre, which are now in the Centre Pompidou collections. 

Sadly, she spent her later years in poverty and died in 1940, shortly after Nazi Germany invaded Denmark.

The Joy of Effort by Robert Tait McKenzie, 1912

Robert Tait McKenzie was a Canadian physician, educator, athlete and sculptor who became director of athletics at the University of Pennsylvania. He donated hundreds of bronze homoerotic images of athletic young men to UPenn, where many are still on display. 

He was a key figure in sports medicine and rehabilitative medicine, designing prosthetics for wounded soldiers. He extolled the value of exercise early, especially for those who worked primarily with their minds. Despite the undeniable homoeroticism in his work, he was married, as the norms of his time dictated.

Cumulonimbus by Kotaro Nagahara, 1909

Kotaro Nagahara (1864-1930) was one of the early innovators of yōga, or Western-style painting, in late 19th-century Japan. The relatively conservative style of his male nudes (note the lack of visible genitals) may reflect the impact of the “nude debate” (ratai ronso) in Japanese art circles in the 1890s. The influence of Western nude painting fueled an intense debate among Japanese artists about the nature of propriety and indecency, and some yoga painters like Kuroda Seiki caused controversy for displaying nude paintings to the public. In this cultural atmosphere, it’s not surprising that Nagahara took a more discreet approach here in obscuring the figure’s genitalia.

Slaves by Gabriel Morcillo, 1926

Colonialism and Resistance: Imported Shame, Native Pride

But art is never just about aesthetics. In “Colonialism and Resistance,” the exhibition explains how Western imperialism often coded queerness as foreign or degenerate, while simultaneously fetishizing it. A pernicious side effect of colonialism was that Western suppressive ideologies on homosexuality were imposed on conquered lands — many of which went from respecting same-sex relations to writing homophobic laws into their legal codes. 

Gabriel Morcillo’s painting Slaves is a striking example of how Orientalist aesthetics were often used to veil overt homoeroticism. Like many artists of his era, Morcillo employed the exoticized imagery of the so-called “East” to explore themes of male beauty and sensuality, subjects that were daring and even dangerous to depict in the 1920s and early ’30s. He later experienced both the favor and the fallout  of political affiliation: Between 1950 and 1955, he was commissioned by dictator Francisco Franco to paint several portraits, both standing and on horseback. With the arrival of Spain’s democratic Transition, Morcillo was classified as a Francoist, and his work largely vanished from art history books, despite its considerable artistic merit.

L’après-midi (In the Afternoon) by David Paynter, 1935

David Paynter’s In the Afternoon offers a rare and quietly radical vision of male intimacy in early 20th century South Asian art. Born in 1900 in Sri Lanka (then Ceylon), Paynter was known for merging Western classical techniques with South Asian subjects, often weaving subtle references to same-sex desire into his work.

In this painting, two young men share an intimate gaze, one delicately holding a flower — echoing the sensuality of Gauguin’s Polynesian women but recast through a defiantly queer lens. The image stands in quiet resistance to colonial-era moral codes that had, by that time, already begun to reshape attitudes toward sexuality across South Asia.

Before the British imposed Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code in 1861 — which criminalized “carnal intercourse against the order of nature” — many Asian cultures held more fluid and nuanced understandings of gender and sexuality. Paynter’s work gestures toward that precolonial cultural memory, reclaiming tenderness between men as both natural and beautiful.

La Danza (Dance) by Elisàr von Kupffer, 1918

Beyond the Binary: Gender, Reimagined

Finally, “Beyond the Binary” delivers what may be the show’s most revelatory section. Featuring more than 60 works, it draws direct connections between early queer and trans identities. 

Among the highlights is one of the first self-consciously trans representations in art: Gerda Wegener’s 1929 portrait of her spouse Lili Elbe. 

This section also includes paintings from the Elisarion, a utopian queer villa in Switzerland. One of these images is believed to depict the first same-sex wedding scene in art history.

Elisàr von Kupfer, who preferred to be called Elisarion, founded a spiritual movement he named Clarism, which rejected the gender binary as a perversion of divine will. Proud of his own feminine physical features, von Kupfer adorned his temple in Minusio, Switzerland, with paintings of similarly androgynous and nonbinary figures. While von Kupffer was a pioneer in challenging gender and sexual norms, he was also a white supremacist, and his work was influenced by Aryanism. He sought to engage Adolf Hitler in correspondence, though there is no evidence that the dictator ever replied. 

In von Kupffer’s utopia, gender was fluid and inclusive — but race, clearly, was not. His example shows how radical views in one realm did not necessarily extend to others.

Untitled (kuchi-e [frontispiece] with artist’s seal Shisen) by Tomioka Eisen, 1895

This image was made as an illustration for the novel Sute obuna, an adaptation of the mystery novel Diavola (1885) by the British author Mary Braddon. From the 1880s onward, many European mystery stories were translated into Japanese and adapted to Japanese contexts. This could have the effect of producing unique and humorous juxtapositions between the Japanese characters and their Western mannerisms, as seen in this moment of unexpected male intimacy. Tomioka Eisen was a prolific illustrator during the Meiji Period, trained in ukiyo-e methods. He also produced a small number of erotic works, which were circulated privately.

Lili med fjerkos (Lili With a Feathered Fan) by Gerda Wegener, 1920

Lili With a Feathered Fan by Gerda Wegener depicts her husband, Einar Wegener (who later became Lili Elbe), holding a green feather fan. The painting is significant as an early example of transgender representation in art, created during a period when Lili was beginning to express her gender identity more openly. 

Lili first emerged in 1904 when Gerda asked Einat to pose in women’s clothing after one of her female models failed to show up. This moment marked the beginning of a public and private transformation. In the early ’20s, Lili began living more fully as a woman, and in 1930 she underwent one of the first known gender-affirming surgeries. 

Their relationship inspired the 2015 film The Danish Girl. Tragically, Lili died in 1931 from complications following the final stages of her surgeries. 

Peter (A Young English Girl) by Romaine Brooks, 1923

Romaine Brooks’ work from this period captures early 20th century lesbian life, with portraits of friends, lovers and fixtures of the queer world she inhabited. Here, Brooks depicts the nonbinary British artist known as Gluck, who also went by the name Peter. Gluck insisted on being addressed as “Gluck, no prefix, suffix or quotes” — rejecting any gendered association with their identity.

Amazing architecture, powerful art, dedicated docents and a relaxed, uncrowded flow make Wrightwood 659 well worth a visit.

Wrightwood 659 Does It Right 

Wrightwood 659 intentionally limits the number of visitors and requires timed-entry tickets purchased in advance. This keeps exhibitions intimate and uncrowded, allowing visitors to reflect deeply without distraction.

The First Homosexuals brings together more than 300 works by 125 queer artists from 40 countries, drawn from over 100 museums and private collections around the globe. Each loaned piece contributes to a sweeping, multifaceted narrative of queer identity, resilience and creativity. 

A quiet nook with a view at Wrightwood 659

Wally and I were struck not only by the scale of the exhibition, but by the obvious care with which it was assembled. Every element — from the curation of individual works to the flow of the galleries — felt deeply considered, designed to honor the artists, their histories and the communities they reflect.

We had the added privilege of visiting on a day when docents were present, enriching the experience with personal reflections and deeper context about the artists and their work. Their stories added an intimate, human layer to an already powerful presentation. –Duke

Wrightwood 659

West Wrightwood Avenue
Chicago, Illinois 
USA 

 

Secrets of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World

Author Bettany Hughes shares surprising truths about the Great Pyramid, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon and other Wonders of the Ancient World. 

Quick — name the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.

Struggling? You’re not alone.

Most people can’t list them all. Some guess the Colosseum or Stonehenge. Others don’t realize that only one still stands. 

“These weren’t just impressive buildings and sculptures.

They were bold declarations of power — a Hellenistic highlight reel that reflected the ambition and reach of Alexander the Great’s world.”

In her 2024 book The Seven Wonders of the Ancient World: An Extraordinary Journey Through History’s Greatest Treasures, historian Bettany Hughes peels back the mythology and reveals the politics, poetry and propaganda behind these wonders. These weren’t just impressive buildings and sculptures. They were bold declarations of power — a kind of Hellenistic highlight reel that reflected the ambition and reach of Alexander the Great’s world.

MORE: 3 Times Alexander the Great Wasn’t So Great

The oldest surviving version of the list was scribbled on a scrap of papyrus used to wrap a mummified body in Ancient Egypt. 

Most could be visited on a single, well-planned trip through the eastern Mediterranean. This was the ancient world’s first viral travel list — and its message was clear: Look upon our works, ye mortals, and marvel.

1. The Great Pyramid of Giza: A Resurrection Machine by the Nile

If you visit the Great Pyramid today, you’ll likely see a heat-blasted monument rising from a stretch of ochre desert. But what if we’ve been picturing it all wrong? Hughes urges us to reimagine the Giza Plateau not as barren but as bursting with life: “Where we see desertion, imagine an abundance of clover and thousands of homes; where there are sands, waterways; where there is emptiness, tens of thousands of workers in loincloths and linen kilts. Where there are now neutral horizons, there was once hectic color; where piles of collapsed stone, dwarf-pyramids and sloping, mudbrick mastaba tombs. Where desert, gravid green.”

Built around 2550 BCE and once faced in polished white limestone, the Great Pyramid would have shimmered with a blinding brilliance. 

It wasn’t just a royal tomb; it was a “resurrection machine,” a literal launchpad to the afterlife. This machine served a higher cosmic purpose: to guarantee Egypt’s prosperity by ensuring the pharaoh’s rebirth. The fate of the world literally depended upon Khufu’s afterlife. 

And the engineering behind it still leaves modern minds gasping. Standing 480 feet tall and weighing in at roughly 6.5 million tons, the pyramid used about 2.3 million blocks of limestone, each hauled into place over a quarter of a century. Its interior space alone could swallow London’s St. Paul’s Cathedral, Westminster Abbey, St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican, and the cathedrals of Milan and Florence — with room to spare.

Despite theories ranging from alien intervention to lost technologies, Hughes focuses on the human marvel of it all: tens of thousands of anonymous laborers working 10-hour days, 52 weeks a year, over decades — moving one block every two to three minutes. Current estimates suggest around 20,000 workers were active on the plateau at any given time, likely using a combination of sledges, rollers, ramps and perhaps even early hydraulic lifts. Still, the exact method remains elusive: “The engineering and construction of the Pyramid — the way these blocks were shaped, lifted and set in place — has confounded researchers for centuries, triggering miles’ worth of parchment and paper, and now volumes of iCloud storage,” Hughes writes. “It is a conundrum that obsesses the modern world — taxing the minds of engineers, architects, archaeologists, surveyors, even mediums.”

It’s also easy to forget that this was a riverfront wonder. In Khufu’s day, the Nile flowed much closer to Giza, hugging the Pyramid complex for most of the year, and sometimes lapping its very foundations. What we now see as isolation was once a place of movement and connection — a grand riverside attraction.

Capped with a golden or electrum pyramidion that caught the sun’s rays and hurled them back to the heavens, the Great Pyramid symbolized the original mound of creation — the divine moment when the world emerged from chaos. It was cosmic.

2. The Hanging Gardens of Babylon: Myth, Monument or Mistranslation?

Of all the Seven Wonders, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon remain the most mysterious — and possibly the most fictional. Unlike the Great Pyramid, whose stones still scrape the sky, the Gardens leave us with no ruins, no universally agreed-upon site, and plenty of questions. Did they even exist?

If they did, the Hanging Gardens would have bloomed sometime in the 6th century BCE, during the reign of Nebuchadnezzar II — the great Babylonian king who ruled from 605 to 562 BCE and who is most often credited with their creation. That attribution, though, rests more on later tradition than contemporary evidence.

MORE: Nebuchadnezzar, King Josiah and the Formation of Jewish Law

And the evidence is where things get messy. Hughes lays out the problem clearly: Neither Herodotus nor Xenophon — Greek chroniclers who actually visited Babylon — mention the Gardens. Not once. That silence is thunderous. Even the East India House Inscription, a beautifully preserved 20-inch-wide slab chronicling the many accomplishments of Nebuchadnezzar II, makes no mention of them — no garden at all, hanging or otherwise.

So what gives?

Hughes suggests we may be looking for something too specific. What if the gardens weren’t separate from Babylon’s famed walls but were part of them — verdant terraces that flowed from the fortifications and palatial structures themselves? In many ancient lists, it’s actually Babylon’s walls that earn the “Wonder” designation, not the elusive Gardens. That ambiguity raises the possibility that what we now call the “Hanging Gardens” may have been a poetic misunderstanding — a mistranslated marvel.

And yet, the idea of the Gardens persists — not just because they would’ve been beautiful, but because they captured something deeper and darker about humanity’s emerging relationship with nature. These were not serene rooftop retreats. They were feats of engineering and control, power disguised as paradise.

“Whatever they were, however wondrous, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon would not have been idylls,” Hughes writes. “They would have been exquisite, exacting expressions of potency, expressions of belief, manifestations of ingenuity and the start of a dangerously dominating relationship with the natural world.”

Whether built in Babylon or borrowed from memories of Nineveh, the Hanging Gardens endure because they symbolize an idea: that nature could be bent into spectacle. And that idea, as Hughes suggests, has echoed through every empire since.

MORE: Controversial Theories About the Tower of Babel

3. The Temple of Artemis at Ephesus: Sanctuary of Stone and Wildness

Of all the ancient world’s architectural achievements, none left the poet Antipater of Sidon more breathless than the Temple of Artemis. Around 140 BCE, he wrote, “I have set eyes on the very wall of lofty Babylon, supporting a chariot road, and the [statue of] Zeus by the Alpheios [in Olympia], and the Hanging Gardens, and the Colossus of Helios, and the huge labor of the steep pyramids, and the vast tomb of Mausolos; but when I saw the temple of Artemis, reaching up to the clouds, these other marvels dimmed, they lost their brilliance, and I declared, ‘Look, apart from Olympus itself, the sun has never shone on anything that can compare to this!’”

Constructed around 550 BCE and rebuilt in grander fashion after a devastating fire in 356 BCE, the Artemision — as it was called in classical sources — was the first of the Seven Wonders to be accessible to all people, not just royalty. And it was the only one where women, both mythic and mortal, stood at the center of its story.

The original temple was incinerated on a sweltering July night — the very night Alexander the Great was born. In fact, the Greek world couldn’t help but connect the two events: “Tongues wagged: Artemis — goddess of nature and childbirth — it was whispered, was so busy in northern Greece, super-birthing a world-class megalomaniac, she neglected her earthly temple home,” Hughes writes. 

MORE: Alexander the Great: 8 WTF Facts About His Early Life

The arsonist was a man named Herostratus, likely a desperate slave who torched the temple to immortalize his own name — and, ironically, succeeded. The Ephesians tried to erase him completely. Speaking his name was made a capital crime. But history, being what it is, remembered him anyway.

The rebuilt temple was a marvel: 425 feet long, 225 feet wide — nearly twice the size of the Parthenon that would follow it 150 years later. It featured 127 columns, each 60 feet high, and some capped by a skylight above the central cult statue. The structure marked the first true colonnaded Greek temple, laying the architectural blueprint for millennia to come.

Here, Artemis wasn’t the graceful huntress of Louvre sculptures. She was Asiatic Artemis, a wild guardian of beasts, bearing the mystery and fertility of the Earth. She was a goddess of contradictions — pure yet primal, distant yet intimately present.

“Artemis in the mythology of the Greeks was an unusual goddess, a female figure who stood apart from the rutting sexuality that was the norm of ancient life and myth,” Hughes writes. “The story went that on the eve of her wedding, Artemis begged her father Zeus to allow her not to marry. In most cultures at this time, women were controlled, either by having to have sex, or by not being allowed to. Artemis’s agency, and her choice, makes her attractively odd. She was a virgin, whose sphere was consummation.”

Her image, kept hidden behind a curtain in the sanctuary, was likely a wooden plank known as a xoanon — treated as a living being. It was washed in seawater, anointed in fig milk or grape juice, adorned with clothes and gold, and lovingly cared for in a process called kosmeis — the root of our word cosmetics.

The cult of Artemis was largely female-led. Young women, or parthenoi, took part in the rites. But the high priests — the megabyzoi — were eunuchs, men who had castrated themselves in service to the goddess. Their female counterparts, the melissae, were the “honey women,” underscoring the deep associations between Artemis, fertility and nature’s sweetness.

Ephesus itself had become one of the largest and busiest cities in the ancient world, its port capable of hosting over 800 ships. That accessibility helped the temple’s fame spread far and wide. It was a religious sanctuary, a political hub and — crucially — a bank. Like many temples of the time, it safeguarded vast stores of wealth and knowledge. To violate the temple was to risk divine wrath.

The mythic presence of Amazons — female warriors who were said to have founded the site — was inescapable. Their likenesses adorned the temple’s façade, doorframes and rooftop sculptures. Bronze statues of Amazons stood with short chitons, bare breasts, crescent shields and battleaxes — some even depicted with wounds.

“The Temple of Artemis is a Wonder with diverse genetic makeup and influences from both East and West within its deity, its design and its dogma,” according to Hughes. “It is a work of mankind, trying to understand the power of the natural world and the power of women.”

And Artemis herself? Her statue was encrusted with bees, lions, griffins, cows, horses and sphinxes — a tapestry of creatures and symbols. Her front was thick with mysterious swellings: ostrich eggs? Pollen sacks? Breasts? Testicles? Bags of gold? The goddess resisted definition. She contained multitudes.

Topping her cylindrical polos crown was an image of the temple itself. A shrine of power, mystery and the wild feminine, the Artemision stood as a defiant celebration of life’s most primal forces.

4. The Statue of Zeus at Olympia: God Made Monument

Epictetus, a Stoic philosopher, captured just how beloved the Statue of Zeus had become by the 1st century CE: “The wish to witness the ancient masterpiece of Phidias was so intense, that to die without having seen it was considered a huge misfortune,” he wrote in Discourses. 

The statue of Zeus at Olympia glowed with godly gravitas inside the sanctuary’s darkened temple. A creation of the sculptor Phidias, it was a divine father made colossal: Zeus, King of the Gods, father of Artemis and Apollo, products of the rape of the titaness Leto. The statue wasn’t meant to comfort. It was meant to awe.

“Of course, in a place where men were attempting to become godlike, the ultimate god took the form of the ultimate man,” Hughes writes. 

Built between 438 and 430 BCE, the statue was made of the most extravagant materials available: gleaming hippopotamus ivory for skin, gold for hair and beard, ebony, bone, polished stone and glass. 

“Measuring the size of a three-story home (41 feet, on his pedestal rising over 44 feet tall), and yet seated, crouching, with his head skimming the ceiling, like Alice in Wonderland after taking her Drink Me spiked potion, the godhead must have seemed extraordinarily intimidating,” Hughes adds. “It was said that if he stood up, this Zeus would ‘unroof’ his temple-home.”

The throne featured six statues of Nike, the goddess of victory, marching up the legs. The arms of the seat were sobering sphinxes. The struts featured Herakles slaughtering Amazons to seize their queen’s girdle. The side panels showed Artemis and Apollo massacring Niobe’s children for her pride. And at Zeus’s feet? A stool supported by snarling lions — another Amazonian battlefield carved beneath.

“The message was clear: Olympia, and its Holy of Holies were, in every sense, somewhere that weakness was abhorred, for Zeus’s domain, there were only winners and losers,” Hughes explains. 

In Zeus’ right hand stood a 6-and-a-half-foot statue of Nike, also made of ivory and gold. In his left: a scepter topped by a gleaming eagle. His hair curled in heavy golden locks onto his shoulders, while his ivory skin was oiled daily to prevent cracking in the damp climate. That oil pooled in a limestone basin at his feet — creating a dark twin of the god.

The temple that housed Zeus at Olympia was a masterpiece of Doric architecture, designed by Libon of Elis and completed in 456 BCE with the spoils of war. Zeus’ likeness, modeled after Homer’s verses in The Iliad, captured the very image of cosmic authority. It was said Zeus could start an earthquake just by furrowing his brow. 

A wooden framework supported the ivory plating, carefully soaked in vinegar and sculpted into seamless sheets. Recent research by Kenneth Lapatin confirms the intricacy of this process — and the ingenuity of the ancients who achieved it.

When Roman Emperor Caligula ordered the statue’s decapitation in 41 CE so he could replace the god’s head with his own, Zeus reportedly laughed. The scaffolding collapsed, and days later, Caligula was assassinated — after having dreamed of the deity he sought to deface.

After standing for nearly 1,000 years, the statue was eventually moved to Constantinople, where it burned in a city-wide fire around 476 CE. Olympia’s pride, a masterpiece honored for generations, was reduced to ash.

And yet, Zeus lived on — not just in memory, but in iconography. The Byzantine depiction of Christ Pantokrator, “Ruler of All,” seated on a throne with glowering brow and commanding presence, bore a striking resemblance to Phidias’s Zeus. The divine father had been reborn.

5. The Mausoleum of Halikarnassos: A Monument to Power, Grief and Glittering Excess

It was a tomb so grand it gave its name to every monumental tomb that followed. But the Mausoleum of Halikarnassos — final resting place of Mausolos, satrap-king of Karia — wasn’t just massive. It was mesmerizing. A collision of Greek elegance, Persian grandeur and Anatolian symbolism, built between 361 and 351 BCE on the sun-soaked coast of modern-day Turkey.

This Wonder fused the influences of East and West: Ionian and Doric architectural styles mingled with the dramatic scale and symmetry of Persian rock-cut tombs. Hughes notes that Karia, the region where Halikarnassos sat, was a culture of blendings — borrowing, reimagining and innovating in equal measure. And the Mausoleum was its masterpiece.

“This giant tomb came to be thought of as wonderful because it was trumpeted as embodying a faithful woman’s selfless devotion to her husband-brother, a sign that the brilliance of some men is to devastate women by dying,” she writes. 

Indeed, much of its fame came from the story of Artemisia II, Mausolos’ sister and wife, who reportedly grieved so hard she mixed his ashes into her wine. But beneath the romance lay a structure of staggering ambition: a 145-foot-tall marble confection built atop a limestone terrace stretching over 785 feet — about half the height of Big Ben, and nearly the length of two football fields.

The base consisted of a rectangular podium roughly 100 by 125 feet wide. Above that, 36 columns ringed the structure, echoing the layout of the Temple of Artemis. On top of the colonnade rose a stepped pyramid of 24 tiers, leading to a grand pedestal. And at the very top? A chariot drawn by four thrashing horses, almost certainly carrying statues of Mausolos and Artemisia themselves — a couple who have been put quite literally on a pedestal.

Designed by architect-sculptor Pytheos and possibly other elite artists of the day — Scopas, Bryaxis, Leochares and Timotheus among them — the Mausoleum was both a sculpture gallery and a piece of architectural theater. Its blocks were polished to a glass-like sheen. Carvings depicted Mausolos hunting, receiving ambassadors, honoring the gods and leading battles — scenes real and imagined. Life, as Mausolos wanted it remembered, in full pageantry. 

We tend to think of ancient structures as white, but many were actually a riot of color — and the Mausoleum certainly was. “Funerary monuments in particular favored color — there was a sense that the polychrome experience brought the dead back to some kind of life,” Hughes informs us. “Mausolos’ tomb would have been a firework in the sky.”

And what fireworks: white marble, then bluish limestone adorned with over 120 human and animal figures — all progressing toward a seated Mausolos before a great doorway. Was this his entrance to the afterlife? Above this level, imported white marble from Athens depicted brutal battle scenes, including — once again — Amazons, a recurring motif in Wonder architecture.

A ring of lions likely prowled the pyramid’s base. The decorative program celebrated domination, but also wildness and ritual. Priestesses in clinging, diaphanous dresses, their bodies visible beneath the folds, hint at ecstatic Bacchic rites. 

Skulls unearthed at the site suggest mass animal sacrifice during the burial — a slaughter of sheep, oxen, lambs, birds. Where now there are thistles and butterflies, there were once streams of blood.

Threads of gold found among the ruins may have once wrapped the king’s cremated remains. 

A spring near the site was famed in antiquity for its uncanny power to make men infertile or effeminate. That same spring inspired Ovid’s tale of the creation of Hermaphrodite: the son of Hermes and Aphrodite, lured into its waters by a nymph, merging into one being of two sexes.

The Mausoleum was a place where myth, sex, sacrifice, politics and grief all coalesced. A wonder of death, yes — but pulsing with the messy, lavish power of life.

6. The Colossus of Rhodes: Bronze Giant, Fallen God

The Colossus of Rhodes is perhaps the most misunderstood Wonder. Popular imagination has long insisted it stood legs astride the harbor entrance, torch in hand, as ships passed beneath. But that towering figure, feet apart across a 390-foot waterway, is pure fantasy — a medieval myth that held the world’s imagination hostage for 800 years. (It even inspired the Titan of Braavos in George R.R. Martin’s Game of Thrones.)

In reality, the Colossus never straddled the harbor. It likely stood higher up, on the city’s acropolis, towering above the bustling port of Rhodes. This was Helios — the pre-Olympian sun god — cast in bronze and iron, gleaming in the Aegean light.

Standing an estimated 108 feet tall, the statue was a staggering feat of ancient engineering. Built in the early 3rd century BCE and completed around 280 BCE, it had a skeleton of iron and a polished bronze skin. Just one of its digits — a single toe, say — was said to be larger than most full-sized statues.

Unlike Zeus’ patriarchal presence, Helios pulsed with youthful ambition. “Whereas the Zeus at Olympia thundered, his luxurious beard the signifier of a mature man in Greek culture, Rhodes’ Wonder, the un-bearded, tousled, soft-lipped Helios, had the dangerous energy of a young, unpredictable man poised to do great things,” Hughes writes. 

And given the era, it’s hard not to see the influence and inspiration of Alexander the Great in the statue’s features and commanding pose. Rhodes had resisted a siege by one of Alexander’s successors — and the Colossus was both a victory monument and a symbol of sun-blessed resilience.

Kolossos is a Greek word — possibly of Asiatic origin — that originally meant simply “statue.” But this statue rewrote the definition. It was never just a likeness. It was legend in metal, a city’s pride forged into form.

“This was a wonder that became legendary within weeks of its completion,” Hughes says. 

Created by the sculptor Chares of Lindos — and possibly influenced by the legendary Telchines, mythical inventors of metalwork — the statue took 12 years to complete. It was cast in sections, working from the feet upward. Each foot stood on a marble plinth around 60 feet wide and 10 to 15 feet thick.

And then it fell.

Around 227 BCE — just 60 or so years after it was completed — a devastating earthquake struck Rhodes. The city walls crumbled, the coastline dropped by 3 feet, and the Colossus came crashing down. It broke at the knees and was never re-erected. 

The fragments, enormous and awe-inspiring, lay scattered for centuries — longer than the statue ever stood. According to later sources, the tumbled Helios remained visible until the 7th century CE, when its remains were finally melted down for scrap. So much for immortality.

And that legend has never quite gone cold.

7. The Lighthouse of Alexandria: Fire, Mirrors and the Edge of the World

Unlike the short-lived Colossus of Rhodes, the Lighthouse of Alexandria stood tall for over 1,500 years — a marvel of geometry, ingenuity and sheer ambition. Built beginning around 297 BCE and completed over the course of 15 years, this towering wonder rose more than 400 feet above the bustling twin harbors of Alexandria, Egypt, making it the second tallest structure in the ancient world after the Great Pyramid.

It was astonishing. A stacked sequence of geometric forms — square, octagonal, circular — constructed from marble and local limestone, sheathed in red granite shipped down the Nile from the scorched quarries of Aswan. Some blocks stretched 36 feet long and weighed 75 tons. The tower was crowned with a 50-foot statue, almost certainly of Zeus Soter (Zeus the Savior), watching over the seas like a divine lighthousekeeper.

Its beacon could be seen for over 37 miles — a flaming furnace at night, and during the day, sunlight reflected off massive copper mirrors. It was both a feat of engineering and a performance of cosmic authority. Ships approaching Alexandria’s treacherous coast — battered by crosswinds, stalked by hidden rocks — were guided by this shimmering sentinel, the Pharos.

It was built of red granite, which is usually a dull pink, but could turn an iridescent purple  in desert light. “The ancients must have believed red granite brought with it some kind of sorcerer’s power,” Hughes muses. 

The tower’s structure was just as beguiling: a 1,115-by-1,115-foot base with fortified brick walls and turrets; an interior ramp and hoist system to ferry fuel and supplies; and an eight-sided middle tier symbolizing the compass winds. Above that, a cylindrical chamber topped with the beacon — perhaps powered by naphtha and papyrus, possibly attended by pack animals climbing in pairs.

And the Pharos wasn’t just a lighthouse. It was also a proto-telecom tower, using flashing heliography — ancient Morse code — and possibly even mechanical sound effects. Sculpted Tritons (half-man, half-fish) stood around the structure, possibly blowing horns that served as early sirens, ancient animatronics that altered the city in times of danger.

The lighthouse was initially funded by Ptolemy I — one of Alexander the Great’s most successful generals — and completed under his son, Ptolemy II. It cost an estimated 800 silver talents — over $19 m

illion in today’s money. Built on the island of Pharos, which would lend its name to the structure and eventually become the word for “lighthouse” in multiple languages, the monument embodied Ptolemaic power and vision. It was a glowing stake in the sand, declaring Alexandria the gateway between Africa, Asia and the Mediterranean world.

And for centuries, it worked.

Until 1303 CE, when the Earth shook. An earthquake finally toppled the Pharos, reducing it to ruins and ending one of the longest-standing Wonders of the Ancient World.

MORE: The Major Egyptian Gods and Goddesses

Why the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World Still Matter

All but one of the original Seven Wonders may be long gone — toppled by earthquakes, scavenged for scrap, or buried beneath centuries of sand and myth. But as Hughes makes clear, their true legacy is that they weren’t simply monuments to kings or gods. They were monuments to us — to human ambition, ingenuity, imagination and the drive to build something bigger than ourselves.

The list was specific, political, proudly Hellenistic — showcasing a curated world seen through Greek eyes in the wake of Alexander the Great. And yet, the idea of a Wonder has endured far beyond its original moment.

“Wonders serve a rich triple purpose,” Hughes writes. “They were constructed partly to feed our need for wondrous tales — to experience and talk about the biggest, the best, the tallest, the most strange, the most bold. They encourage a saturation in the now, by submitting to a present, pure sensation of wonder. They remind us of our overwhelming desire to collaborate to create beyond the possibilities of the individual.” 

Even today, the concept of a “wonder” still fuels our storytelling, our bucket lists, our skyscrapers and our sci-fi dreams. Because deep down, we’re still looking to be amazed. Still looking to build what seems impossible. Still wondering. –Wally

MORE: What Was Daily Life Like in Ancient Egypt?