Artistic Depictions of the Virgin Mary: The Surprising Origins of Marian Iconography

The enigmatic allure of the Virgin Mary: From divine purity to unsettling symbolism, we explore the captivating myths and enduring appeal of the original Madonna. 

The Virgin Mary takes many guises in art over the centuries, from Queen of Heaven to the Sorrowful Mother whose tears have miraculous properities.

In art, God is often portrayed as an ancient, white-bearded man in flowing robes, a benevolent figure who watches over humanity from on high. Jesus, meanwhile, is typically depicted in various key moments from his life, such as his birth, crucifixion and resurrection. He walks on water and performs other miracles and has his Last Supper. 

But the Virgin Mary is a complex and enigmatic figure who wears many guises. Often cloaked in modesty, she’s seen as a symbol of hope, love and sacrifice. She’s portrayed as the ultimate role model for Christian women, the daughter of God, the bride of her own son and a regal queen. Her story is a richly woven tapestry of myths and symbols, each thread imbued with meanings that have been interpreted in countless ways throughout history.

As we delve into the realm of religious art and symbolism, we find her as a fertility goddess known as the Black Madonna, along with a loving mother whose tears and breast milk have magical healing powers. Amid the varied representations through the centuries, one thing remains certain: Mary’s enduring appeal as a divine figure. 

Mary, Queen of Heaven by the Master of the Saint Lucy Legend, circa 1495

Maria Regina: Queen of Heaven

Mary, the paragon of purity, couldn’t be left to rot in the grave like a mere mortal. So, the early Church fathers devised a bold solution: They declared that she had been taken up to Heaven in an event known as the Assumption, where she now reigns as a celestial queen. 

Popes viewed the Virgin Mary as a powerful propaganda tool. With their ties to the Queen of Heaven, they could legitimize their authority on earth and cemented the strong tie between Mary and Catholicism, centered in Rome: “The more the papacy gained control of the city, the more veneration of the mother of the emperor in heaven, by whose right the Church ruled, increased,” explains Marina Warner in her 1976 book Alone of All Her Sex: The Myth and the Cult of the Virgin Mary. 

The Coronation of the Virgin by Diego Velázquez, 1636

John VII was the first pope to have himself painted in prostration at the feet of the Virgin, in the basilica of Santa Maria in Trastevere in Rome. 

Madonna della Clemenza icon from the church of Santa Maria in Trastevere in Rome, 8th century. It’s the first to show a pope, John VII, prostrating himself at her feet (though it’s hard to make out now).

The coronation of Mary was first depicted in the 12th century, from an apse mosaic at Santa Maria to niches of French cathedrals, and became a favorite theme of Christendom. Christ is shown crowning his mother, switching the moment of her triumph from the Incarnation (when she conceived the son of God) to the Assumption (when she was taken up to Heaven). 

Coronation of the Virgin by Fra Angelico, 1435

The imagery of a divine queen worked well to legitimize not only popes but royalty and its system of inequality as well. “For by projecting the hierarchy of the world onto heaven, that hierarchy — be it ecclesiastical or lay — appears to be ratified by divinely reflected approval; and the lessons of the Gospel about the poor inheriting the earth are wholly ignored,” Warner writes. 

“It would be difficult to concoct a greater perversion of the Sermon on the Mount [Christ’s ethical code, focusing on compassion, selflessness, etc.] than the sovereignty of Mary and its cult, which has been used over the centuries by different princes to stake out their spheres of influence in the temporal realm,” Warner continues, “to fly a flag for their ambitions like any Maoist poster or political broadcast; and equally difficult to imagine a greater distortion of Christ’s idealism than this identification of the rich and powerful with the good.”

The Coronation of the Virgin With Angels and Four Saints by Neri di Bicci, circa 1470

The Bride of Christ: Incest Is Best?

As shocking as it may seem, the Virgin Mary was, for a while, depicted as the bride of her own son, Jesus. 

How could this have come about? Warner suggests the influence of Middle Eastern mystery religions, which played up males forming unions with females. The Canaanite god Baal coupled with his sister, Anat. In Syria, the shepherd Tammuz became the lover of the sky goddess Ishtar. The Phrygian cult featured Cybele and Attis, who died castrated under a tree. And Egyptian mythology tells the tale of Osiris, the god of the dead, who was chopped into pieces and put back together by his sister-wife, Isis. 

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The nuptials of these divine beings mirrored the joining of earth and sky at the dawn of creation.

You wouldn’t marry your mother, would you — even if she was the Virgin Mary?!

“Thus marriage was the pivotal symbol on which turned the cosmology of most of the religions that pressed on Jewish society, jeopardizing its unique monotheism,” Warner writes. “It is a symptom of their struggle to maintain their distinctiveness that the Jews, while absorbing this pagan symbol, reversed the ranks of the celestial pair to make the bride God’s servant and possession, from whom he ferociously exacts absolute submission.”

From this foundation, Cyprian of Carthage, in the 3rd century, accused virgins who flirted of committing adultery against their true husband, Christ.  

And then, of course, there are nuns, whose consecration ceremony includes getting a ring that designates them as a bride of Christ. Talk about polygamy on a mass scale!

But it wasn’t really until 1153, when Bernard of Clairvaux gave multiple sermons on the Old Testament’s Song of Songs — “that most languorous and amorous of poems,” as Warner calls it. In one of these, Bernard preached, speaking of Christ and the Virgin Mary:

But surely will we not deem much happier those kisses which in blessed greeting she receives today from the mouth of him who sits on the right hand of the Father, when she ascends to the throne of glory, singing a nuptial hymn and saying: “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth.”

Pagan influences aside, I’m puzzled as to how this incestuous idea ever caught on among Christians.

The Virgin and Child by Dirk Bouts, circa 1465

Maria Lactans: The Milk-Squirting Mary

While Mary was exempt from Eve’s punishment of bearing children in pain, there was one biological function allowed her: breastfeeding. “From her earliest images onwards, the mother of God has been represented as nursing her child,” Warner says. 

The Virgin Mary depicted with squirting breasts?! This is one iconography I’ve got to milk for all its worth.

Where did this idea come from? “The theme of the nursing Virgin, Maria Lactans, probably originated in Egypt, where the goddess Isis had been portrayed suckling the infant Horus for over a thousand years before Christ,” Warner explains. 

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Madonna Nursing the Child (Maria Lactans) by Erasmus Quellinus the Younger, circa 1614

Part of this symbolism derives from a mother providing much-needed nourishment: “For milk was a crucial metaphor of the gift of life,” Warner continues. “Without it, a child had little or no chance of survival before the days of baby foods, and its almost miraculous appearance seemed as providential as the conception and birth of the child itself.”

And, not surprisingly, Mary’s milk was miraculous. A favorite medieval tale, including a version in French by Gautier de Coincy, tells how a faithful monk was dying of a putrid mouth filled with ulcers. He reproached the Madonna for neglecting him, and chastened, she appears at his bedside: 

With much sweetness and much delight,
From her sweet bosom she drew forth her breast, 
That is so sweet, so soft, so beautiful,
And placed it in his mouth, 
Gently touched him all about,
And sprinkled him with her sweet milk.

As Warner writes, “Needless to say, the monk was rendered whole again.”

According to a 14th century legend, Saint Bernard prayed before a statue of Mary. It came to life, and the Virgin placed her breast in Bernard’s mouth, nursing him as she did the baby Jesus.

The Madonna’s miracle milk became a nearly ubiquitous relic in Europe. “From the thirteenth century, phials in which her milk was preserved were venerated all over Christendom in shrines that attracted pilgrims by the thousands. Walsingham, Chartres, Genoa, Rome, Venice, Avignon, Padua, Aix-en-Provence, Toulon, Paris, Naples, all possessed the precious and efficacious substance,” Warner says.

John Calvin, the church reformer, had a scathing opinion about these claims. “There is no town so small, nor convent … so mean that it does not display some of the Virgin’s milk,” he wrote in his Treatise on Relics. “There is so much that if the holy Virgin had been a cow, or a wet nurse all her life she would have been hard put to it to yield such a great quantity.”

The idea of a breastfeeding mother of God waned in the Renaissance, when high-born women found it indecent to do the job themselves and outsourced the task to wetnurses. Plus, it was deemed indecorous to depict Mary with her breast exposed with the increasing idea that a woman’s body was shameful. Mary, with the Immaculate Conception, was born without original sin and therefore avoided Eve’s curse — and by the 16th century, that included being exempt from suckling the Christ child.

Madonna in Sorrow by Juan de Juni, 1571

Mater Dolorosa: The Sorrowful Mother

The caregiving image of Mary gave way to a mother mourning her dead son, what’s known as the Mater Dolorosa. The cult began in the 11th century, reaching full fruition in the 14th century in Italy, France, England, the Netherlands and Spain. The culmination of this iconography? Michelangelo’s La Pietà.

La Pietà by Michelangelo, 1499

Again, we have Ancient Egypt, and the surrounding region’s myths, to thank for this representation. The Egyptian goddess Isis sorrowfully wandered the land, collecting the pieces of her dismembered brother-husband, Osiris. When she finds his coffin, she caresses Osiris’ face and weeps. 

And she’s not the only weeping woman of the ancient Middle East. Dumuzi, the shepherd and “true son” of Sumerian myth, was sacrificed to the underworld, tortured by demons (much like Christ later, during his Passion and descent into Hell). The goddess Inanna, the Queen of Heaven, weeps for him.

It seems likely that Christians picked up this iconography — spurred on by the horrors of the Black Death, when the bubonic plague swept the continent, wiping out one-fifth of the entire population. “It aroused penitential fever in a way never seen before, and gave the image of the Mater Dolorosa weighty contemporary significance,” Warner points out. 

Madonna in Sorrow by Titian, 1554

Once again, Mary’s bodily fluids have healing properties. “The tears she sheds are charged with the magic of her precious, incorruptible, undying body and have the power to give life and make whole,” Warner explains. 

This cult has lasted to the present day. Many of us have heard stories of statues of the Virgin that miraculously weep. 

“Contemporary prudishness has tabooed the Virgin’s milk, but her tears have still escaped the category of forbidden symbols, and are collected as one of the most efficacious and holy relics of Christendom,” Warner says. “They course down her cheeks as a symbol of the purifying sacrifice of the Cross, which washes sinners of all stain and gives them new life, just as the tears of Inanna over Dumuzi fell on the parched Sumerian soil and quickened it into flower.” 

The Virgin of Greater Pain and Transfer of Great Power

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The Black Madonna of Monserrat

The Black Madonna: Our Lady of Montserrat

Most Western depictions of Mary present her skin as lily-white, untouched by corruption, despite the fact that she is undeniably Middle Eastern. So it’s all the more surprising to see the emergence of the Black Madonna, a dark-skinned version that became popular among the medieval Benedictine monks in Montserrat, Spain. 

The monks saw the lushness of their mountain as a mirror of Mary. As such, her icon took on aspects of a fertility goddess. 

But in a bizarre twist (or perhaps not, given that Mary was a Jew from Judea), the Virgin had dark skin, which led to her being known as the Black Madonna. In fact, she’s known locally as La Moreneta, the Little Dark One. The depiction spread to other places of worship, among them Chartres, Orléans, Rome and Poland. 

The Black Madonna of Częstochowa, Poland

“The Church often explains their blackness in allegorical terms from the Song of Songs: ‘I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem’ (Song of Solomon 1:5),” Warner writes. “[B]ut another theory about their color is even more prosaic: that the smoke of votive candles for centuries has blackened the wood or the pigment, and when artists restored the images, they repainted the robes and jewels that clothe the Madonna and Child but out of awe left their faces black.”

The shrine at Montserrat is one of the longest continuous cults of Mary, especially popular with newly married couples. Here she has dominion over marriage, sex, pregnancy and childbirth — odd for a virgin but not for a fertility goddess. 

The Black Madonna at St. Mary’s Church in Gdansk, Poland

A gruesome legend illustrates Mary’s power. A woman gives birth to a lump of dead flesh. But when she prays to Our Lady of Montserrat, it begins to move and is transformed into a beautiful baby boy. 

Madonna della Misericordia by Benedetto Bonfigli, circa 1470

Madonna della Misericordia: Our Lady of Mercy

In a merging of her roles as mother and queen, a new depiction of Mary emerged in Umbria, Italy at the end of the 13th century. The Virgin was given a massive cloak which she wrapped over the poor souls gathered at her feet. Towering over them and offering protection, this was the Madonna della Misericordia, Our Lady of Mercy. 

Madonna of Mercy by Sano di Pietro, circa 1440s

After the desolation of the Black Death in the late 1340s, this iconography of Mary became the most popular. Monks and laypeople alike would pray to this aspect of the Virgin, asking her to keep them safe from harm. 

The Virgin of the Caves by Francisco de Zurbarán, circa 1655

This Mary is often preternaturally large — and her son, Christ, isn’t anywhere to be found, “suggesting that her mercy, directly given, could save sinners,” Warner writes. But that cuts God and Jesus out of the equation and makes the Virgin a goddess in her own right. 

So while Our Lady of Mercy spread throughout Europe in the 14th and 15th centuries, it was officially declared heterodox (not in accordance with the accepted Catholic doctrine) and banned by the Council of Trent in the mid-1500s.

Dormition of the Virgin fresco by Frangos Katelanos, 1548

Divine Dominion Over Death 

The Virgin Mary has worn many guises over the years, from a gentle breastfeeding mother to imperial queen to tutelary goddess. 

“If travelers from another planet were to enter churches, as far flung as the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C., or the Catholic cathedral in Saigon, or the rococo phantasmagoria of New World churches, and see the Virgin’s image on the altar, it would be exceedingly difficult for them to understand that she was only an intercessor and not a divinity in her own right,” Warner points out. 

There are surely many factors that have led to Mary’s enduring appeal, starting with her co-opting of ancient mythology like the Egyptian goddess Isis. Many cultures find it fitting to worship the female spirit — something glaringly missing in the often-misogynistic views of Christianity. 

Detail from Assumption of Mary by Peter Paul Rubens, circa 1617

But Warner has a theory: “For although the Virgin is a healer, a midwife, a peacemaker, the protectress of virgins, and the patroness of monks and nuns in this world; although her polymorphous myth has myriad uses and functions for the living, it is the jurisdiction over her death accorded her in popular belief that gives her such widespread supremacy.”

She could be on to something. Think of the final words of the Hail Mary, the best-loved prayer in Catholicism: “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.” –Wally

Twisted Tours at Trundle Manor in Pittsburgh

This roadside oddity is a neighborhood haunt worthy of a detour. A fun combination of the weird and the macabre, the home includes a secret passage, a tumor that serenades visitors and plenty of other strange delights. 

The approach to Trundle Manor has a Bates family home feel to it — and then there’s the scary alien monster and the barrel of nuclear waste.

While Wally and I were looking for things to do in Pittsburgh, he stumbled upon Trundle Manor, a house of oddities and a museum of the bizarre. The quirky roadside attraction has been a fixture of the quiet residential neighborhood of Swissvale since 2009.

Intrigued, Wally sent an email to the proprietors and received a reply from the mysteriously named Mr. ARM, who asked when we’d like to stop by for a tour. “With a name like that we have to go,” Wally said, and decided then and there to schedule our visit.

One of the cute friends you’ll meet in the front yard

My parents, who we were traveling with, are up for anything. So we decided to throw caution to the wind and tell them we had a surprise for them. I asked my dad to set the GPS to 7724 Juniata Street. As we pulled up to the curb, we saw a colorful hand-painted sign at street level that read, “Trundle Manor,” beckoning visitors in (or warning them off). 

Not far from the sign was a yellow barrel stenciled with a hazardous waste symbol oozing green goo. When we looked up, we saw a two-story Victorian manor sitting atop a steep hill. The brick house looked a bit ominous, not unlike the Bates family house in Alfred Hitchcock’s movie Psycho.

Mima has a hair-raising and electrifying experience on the front porch.

The manor got its name from one of the couple’s epic Halloween parties. They invented the fictitious Trundle Graves Funeral Home and Taxidermy Service as part of the party’s theme, and the name stuck.

Wally takes a ride on the Loch Ness Monster.

My mom and dad exchanged looks, but they didn’t say anything. They’re used to our strange sensibilities. We got out of the car and walked up the steps leading to the front door. I rang the doorbell, and a moment later, the door was opened by our hostess, Velda von Minx. From the moment we saw her, Wally and I knew she was a kindred spirit. 

Our charming hostess, Velda von Minx, spun a nonstop tapestry of twisted tales.

Velda had blunt bangs, long wavy blonde hair, smoky eyes and an infectious laugh. She explained to us that her name is a sort of mashup of Zelda Fitzgerald, wife of author F. Scott Fitzgerald, and B-list actresses. It works. 

Her husband’s moniker, Mr. ARM, is an acronym using his initials. Sadly, he was indisposed. He had stayed up late the previous night and was sleeping during our visit. (Outside the manor, the couple are otherwise known as Rachel Rose Rech and Anton Raphael Miriello.)

This is what you can expect at Trundle Manor — strange and creepy items everywhere you look.

Here Comes Trundle

We were ushered into Trundle Manor and followed Velda into the dining room, which was decorated in a Victorian style, while muddled old-timey music crackled in the background.

Mima: We thought the taxidermied bird outside was telling us to go home. 

“Oh no!” Velda exclaimed. “But I’m glad you’re here. Welcome to Trundle Manor, our personal collection of weird and dead stuff.”

We looked around. The room was packed with oddities. 

Most of the taxidermied creatures at Trundle Manor have some sort of whimsical elements, like this bear, with his cymbals and marching band hat.

“About 15 years ago, we decided to open our house to the public and show off our collection,” Velda continued. “Anton grew up as a weird little kid, always bringing home dead things. His parents are both artists, and they encouraged him and would take him to flea markets, where they collected antiques and Art Deco pieces. He would always find something else to add to his collection.”

“Are you still collecting?” Mima asked. 

“Always! It’s hard to stop!” Velda chuckled. “People bring us things all the time, which is nice. It’s like our own personal museum drop-off. If they know you as someone who collects unusual things, they’ll often bring you items that they’ve inherited or that make them uncomfortable. I guess it’s a way for them to get rid of something that they don’t want, but also know that it’ll be appreciated by someone who loves weird stuff. We say it’s great to know people in different professions. Especially if you have friends in the funeral home industry, medical industry, veterinary technicians, people who clean out houses or even theater people — you’ll likely find that they have all sorts of cool things that they’re willing to part with.”

A small glass jar with something ashen inside and the name “H.H. Holmes” written on it, caught my eye. I asked Velda if they were the ashes of H.H. Holmes, the notorious serial killer at the center of Erik Larson’s brilliant book The Devil in the White City.

“It’s grave dirt,” she said with a smile. “From our favorite serial killer — if one needs a favorite serial killer. He was hanged at Moyamensing Prison in South Philadelphia in 1896 and buried in Holy Cross Cemetery in Yeadon, Pennsylvania, but his grave is unmarked. A local historian friend of ours got us some of the dirt from his grave.

“We also have grave dirt from some other famous people,” Velda added. “Like Rod Serling, Patsy Cline and Edgar Allan Poe. On the wall behind you is a jar of Bela Lugosi’s grave dirt. If it’s Dracula-related, we must have some of the earth he was buried in.”

I asked if the three bronze faces on the wall were of Lugosi. 

“They’re actually of Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi and Vincent Price.” Velda replied. “We have Vincent Price’s autograph. My grandmother met him in Dayton, Ohio in 1972 during a summer production of Oliver! We also got to meet John Astin, the actor who played the original Gomez Addams, on The Addams Family,” she added.

Astin is an idol of Miriello’s, and the couple met him about 10 or 11 years ago when they drove out to Baltimore and pretended to be acting students at Johns Hopkins University, where  Astin was a director of the theater arts until his retirement in 2021.

Papa, Mima, Duke and Wally are only pretending to be scared. They loved their visit to this kooky home.

Velda eyed Wally’s iPhone with the chubby cat on the back. “I love your case,” she said. “Who’s the cat?”

“That’s our cat, Bowzer,” I replied. “He’s a bit of a chubster, but he’s a sweetheart.”

“Our cat was 25 pounds,” Velda said. “He was the ring bearer at our wedding. We had to weld together a little circus cage to carry him, because you can’t train a cat to walk down the aisle. We gently escorted him down the aisle, and he did a great job.

Wally laughed. “That sounds like a memorable wedding,” he said. “So, are you Mrs. ARM now?”

Velda smiled. “I guess so,” she said. “I always go by Velda von Minx, but of course I’ll take Mrs. ARM! We had a very unique wedding. We got married at the Braddock Carnegie Library, which was the first Carnegie Library in America. There’s a big Victorian-era music hall attached. We wanted a party wedding, so we had 12 bands, five belly dancers, a gourmet waffle buffet and an all-day open bar with an absinthe fountain. It was like a 14-hour event. That’s my wedding gown in the tall case.”

“Did you say an absinthe fountain? With real wormwood?" Papa asked.

“Not enough to make you hallucinate — but enough to make you good and drunk!” Velda chuckled. 

The couple’s wedding was an epic event, featuring multiple bands, a belly dancer and an absinthe fountain.

“And here we have our collection of medical oddities," she continued, gesturing to a nearby table. “Embalming equipment, vintage syringes, anal speculums, trepanation tools and a whole platter of gynecological tools that came in a box with a handwritten note that said, ‘Sorry, ladies.’ We had to have that.

Sorry, ladies! This tray holds a frightening mix of old-school medical devices once used for gynecological checkups, anal probes and trepanation.

“When we visit antique shops, we make it our mission to find the most upsetting things to buy. Like this embalming machine, used to pump fluid into a cadaver by a mortician. It would take a lot of cleaning, but I could totally see it as a margarita machine.

“Or this dental X-ray machine from the 1920s. It was used in a dentist’s office in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania, up until the 1990s. There’s a sticker inside that says, ‘CAUTION: Radiation When…’ but the rest of the text has fallen off. Needless to say, we’re not going to plug it in.

“All of our taxidermy is real. We don’t  hunt or kill anything ourselves. We prefer the very old, kind of hungover-looking ones.”

“I love that one!” I said, pointing to a taxidermied fox sitting atop a cabinet wearing a tiny tiara and a pink ribbon.

“The Princess Fox?” Velda asked. “That’s our oldest, from the 1890s. And this is one of our creations: a werewolf-mermaid, or mer-wolf. The top half is our friend’s Rottweiler that died of natural causes and was donated to us. The bottom half is a carp. There are mahi-mahi fins and glass eyes from a blind human.”

Princess Fox, to the right in a tiara, is the couple’s oldest specimen, dating to the 1890s.

Velda directed our attention to a pair of hybrid creatures.

"This is also one of ours,” she said. “These fighting catfish are part cat and part fish, and they’re always fighting. We’re not expert taxidermists. We just have a glass of absinthe and see what happens. We’re influenced by gaffs, which are fake creatures pieced together from real animals. Think P.T. Barnum’s traveling sideshow stuff and the FeeJee Mermaid.”

She regaled us with a great story about one of her and Miriello’s adventures:

“One time, we saw what we thought was a cat that had been hit by a car on the main road. We felt really bad, so we pulled over to see if we could help. It turned out that it was actually a skunk. We had a kill kit in the back of our car, a briefcase with a cleaver and a bunch of Ziploc bags. I was wearing an evening gown, as I often do, squatting and holding open a bag, while Anton chopped off its head with the cleaver. We looked across the street and saw a little 10-year-old boy watching us. We were like, ‘Oh, sorry.’”

Wally asked, “What did you do with that skunk head?”

Velda replied with one eyebrow arched, “It’s sitting on a shelf somewhere in that cabinet.”

Wally asked Velda if she could share any stories of paranormal activity or spooky experiences involving their house.

“Technically, our house should be haunted,” Velda said. “The previous owner, Charlie, committed suicide in 2006, and we’re the first people to live here since. We learned from our neighbors that he didn’t have many people in his life, was a member of Mensa, and a bit of a hoarder. So, we like to think that he’s living vicariously through us.”

Velda continued. “Everyone who comes here is good-natured, whether they’re a friend, family member or guest at one of our parties. There’s always positive energy, and we get to see people’s best days. We like to think that we’re providing him with entertainment, if nothing else. When we go out of town, we ask Charlie to look after the house.”

Wally asked what the rest of the house was like beyond the museum. Velda replied, “There’s a total of four rooms that are open to the public. The upstairs is where we live, and it's more retro rockabilly. There’s a pinball machine, our Lego collection and a ’50s diner booth.”

She continued, “I should also mention that our most priceless item in this room is a tiger pelt from Indonesia. It was donated to us by a man who was cleaning out his mother’s home after she passed away. He told us that the pelt came from a small village in Indonesia where his father was born. Sometime in the 1950s, a young Sumatran tiger was spotted lurking near a densely populated residential area. Concerned that the tiger might attack or kill their children, the father shot it and had its pelt made into a rug.”

A Sumatran tiger that was killed in the 1950s and made into a rug was donated to Trundle Manor, and became their most priceless part of the collection.

So how did Trundle Manor come to be?

“What started out as a party space for friends and family, photo shoots, art shows, movie screenings and burlesque shows has turned into a roadside attraction. We now do about a dozen tours a week.”

Behold! Olivia’s Singing Tumor! One of the stars of the collection, this tumor came from their belly dancing friend, who still pops by to visit her erstwhile body part.

The Singing Tumor and Counterfeit Cash

Velda guided us out of the dining room and into the vestibule. 

“In our entryway, we have a human reliquary altar.” Typically, a reliquary is a container for religious relics that include the remains of saints, such as bones or pieces of clothing. “Ours contain parts of people that they’re no longer using anymore,” our charming tour guide continued. “We have my husband’s first mustache, in case his face melts off and I need to bandage him up and glue it back on. We also have a jar with a red lid that contains most of what’s left of a human brain. It was a wedding gift from our tattoo artist friend who received it as payment from a medical waste employee instead of cash. The original jar got thrown at him and shattered against a wall and is the reason why it’s incomplete. We also have a jar with a couple of months’ worth of skin flakes from our friend with psoriasis.”

A collection of prosthetic legs, lost to injury or illness, came from a friend who works at a retirement home. One from the 1940s has toes carved into the wooden foot.

Mima picked up some bills. “What’s this?” she asked. 

“We make our own money,” Velda explained, “because we loved the idea of having drawers full of cash like the Addams Family. We’re not rich, but we do have our own currency. I’m on the $3 bill, Mr. ARM is on the $13 bill, and our beloved cat, Little Devil, is on the $666 bill.”

Velda removed the covering from an object with a flourish to reveal the crown jewel of their collection. Floating within a custom-made steampunk brass and glass vessel (built by Mr. ARM) was a fist-sized mass. It wouldn’t look out of place among the contraptions of Captain Nemo’s submarine the Nautilus. This curiosity is Olivia’s Singing Tumor, bequeathed to them by their belly dancing friend, who still performs around Pittsburgh.

“This was a benign tumor on her uterus about 15 years ago,” Velda told us. “Hospitals typically don’t allow patients to keep surgical specimens, but Olivia was persistent, and they were able to freeze the tumor and give it to her in a Tupperware container.”

The assemblage sits upon an oak phonograph pedestal, complete with a pair of metal horns to amplify its “singing” — a song whose chorus Velda informed us is, appropriately, “I want my mommy.” Olivia occasionally comes to visit her tumor, Velda added. 

Also occupying the space is a bug-eyed, mustachioed 4-foot-tall animatronic Santa Claus wearing wire-rimmed glasses. It’s been remade into a likeness of Mr. ARM. It stands silently in the entryway. “We tinkered with it and re-recorded its voice to announce the collection,” Velda said. “But it malfunctioned after it got rained on and started singing ‘Jingle Bells’ in a rather demonic voice.”

The parlor at Trundle Manor has a bit more room — but don’t worry: It’s still stuffed to the gills with weird shit.

The Freeze-Dried Cat and a Gremlin Named Nigel in the Parlor

The four of us exited the entryway and followed Velda into the parlor, the largest of the rooms at Trundle Manor. 

“We can accommodate 12 to 15 people when we screen movies, which we do about once a month,” she told us. There’s a pull-down screen and a projector mounted to the ceiling. A couple of Velda’s favorites flicks include pre-code Hollywood horror movies such as Frankenstein (1931) and Mystery of the Wax Museum (1933). 

A portrait of Velda von Minx and Mr. ARM in the style of holy icons holds a pride of place on one of the walls. When I asked Velda about it, she told us that Anton’s parents are both artists who specialize in saint iconography painting.

“They’re not religious people,” Velda said. “But they’ve been painting saint icons since the 1970s. His dad paints the bodies and backgrounds, while his mom does the faces and hands.”

Velda added that the portrait was a wedding gift from her in-laws.

The painting of the couple was religious icons was done by Mr. ARM’s parents as a wedding gift.

I don’t think any of us were prepared for what Velda told us next about their dearly departed black cat, Little Devil. “We had him freeze-dried and preserved, and  placed him in a special glass box with a lid that unlocks so we can still reach in and pet him. We bought him a tiny top hat at the oldest hat shop in the world in London, where the royal family has had custom hats made for over 300 years. I’m surprised they let us through the front door!”

This handsome fellow is Little Devil, the couple’s cat, which has been freeze-dried. Gulp.

The fantastical throne in the parlor is a collaboration between Mr. ARM and his friend The Admiral. It’s their interpretation of the Eldritch Seat of R’lyeh and is an homage to H.P. Lovecraft’s octopus-èsque monster Cthulhu. The back piece was first sculpted in clay and then cast in plastic and treated to look like wood.

“We also built a birdcage with a miniature replica of the parlor inside,” Velda continues. Amazingly, she hadn’t run out of stories yet. “For a time, we thought we might have a gremlin, as we kept losing things in the house, only to find them again in places that neither of us had left them.

“So Mr. ARM and I decided to give our gremlin a place to hang out that we knew he would appreciate. We filled the decoy with real tiny dead specimens, a reading lamp, miniature Poe and Lovecraft books, custom leather furniture, a coffin to sleep in and my personal favorite: a fully stocked bar with bottles of absinthe, moonshine and an 18-year-old scotch. We named him Nigel, and if he is real, he’s living it up!”

One of the birdcages has a miniature setup of the room to keep the home’s gremlin, Nigel, so contented he won’t get up to mischief.

Wally noticed a birdcage themed like the Black Lodge from Twin Peaks and asked about it.  

“We adore Twin Peaks,” Velda said, scoring even more points with Wally. “That’s how we spent most of the pandemic, in the parlor watching David Lynch on repeat. There’s even a little cherry pie and miniature cup of coffee. Although I still need to finish making the curtains!”

Pointing to the wall, Velda said, “The moose is our biggest friend. We purchased him at an antique shop in central Pennsylvania. When we brought him home, we didn’t realize that he wouldn’t fit through the front door. We had to saw off his left antler in order to get him inside and reattached it upside down, because that’s how Pierre, the stuffed moose head in The Addams Family, had his antlers.

“Over in the corner,” Velda gestures, “and sitting atop a table near Little Devil is a fawn with a blonde wig that we call the Nudie Cutie. I don’t know why a taxidermist would have wanted a baby deer to look like a sexy pinup girl, but they did. I made her a bikini, and added false eyelashes and a wig.

“The big guy in the corner with the wooden leg and the ribs was something that my husband made when he was 15. His parents told him that he couldn’t have a dog, so he built one. It’s got the head of an alligator, deer bones and chicken wire. He would take it outside and drag it down the road on a leash.”

This creepy creature was Anton’s first creation, when he started playing Doctor Frankenstein at the age of 15.

In the barrister bookcase are two mummified cats. “Our neighbor found one under his porch and thought it would be a great gift for his wife, but when he gave it to her, she was horrified. The other one came from our friend who makes movie props. She found it when she was cleaning out her warehouse. She also gave us a dental chair from the 1930s and a perm machine from the 1920s. We call the perm machine our ‘feminine electric chair.’ The metal clips would attach to wet hair, and electricity would flow through its wires to cook it into being curly. The machine says: 115 volts/15 amps. One amp could electrocute a person.

Velda saw Mr. ARM tooling around town in his hot rods, stalked him on social and got herself invited over. It was love at first taxidermy lesson.

“My other favorite thing in the parlor is the two squirrels getting married,” Velda said with a smile. “They’re part of our love story.” 

For years Anton was part of the Drifters Car Club of Pittsburgh, a vintage motorsport club. “I would see him around town with his hot rods and sort of started stalking him on social media. And that’s how we met because I got myself invited over. That first night he said, ‘I’ve got a freezer full of dead squirrels. Do you want to learn taxidermy in my basement?’ To which I replied, ‘Of course!’”

Talk about a meet-cute! 

Nothing is as it seems in the Trundle Manor kitchen. Every cabinet opens to reveal a surprising mad scientist take on kitchen appliances.

That’s the Kitchen?!

Our final stop was the laboratory/gift shop/kitchen. The entrance is hidden behind a moveable display case in the dining room. It has all the typical appliances — they’re just concealed by panels, doors, buttons, switches, wheels and blinking lights that transform the room into a mad scientist’s laboratory. There’s even a device with an electric current that Mr. ARM uses to light cigars. 

Wish you were here?

Home, Strange Home

To some, Trundle Manor may seem a little disquieting and strange. But to its owners, Mr. ARM and Velda von Minx, it’s a labor of love. Their strange and wonderful collection fills every nook and cranny of the downstairs of their circa-1910 home.

Velda was kind, playful and genuine. Tours take about 45 minutes and are by appointment only. Velda von Minx and Mr. ARM accept donations of cash, booze or oddities in exchange for guided tours. 

If you’re planning a trip to Pittsburgh and are fans of oddities, as we are, it’s well worth making a reservation for a jaunt to this fascinating home. You’ll come away with numerous stories that begin, “You won’t believe this…” Obviously, Wally and I loved it, and my parents did, too. –Duke

Trundle Manor’s tagline is: The most unusual tourist trap in the world meets the most bizarre private collection on public display!

And we gotta say, that about sums it up.

Trundle Manor 

7724 Juniata Street 
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 15218
USA

 

Standards of Beauty (and Ugliness) in African Art

From scarification to the ideal male and female, discover what Westerners get wrong about how Sub-Saharan sculptures and other works of art are viewed in their own cultures. 

A ritual dance in Guinea, Africa features a Baga nimba or d’mba headdress, seen in the upper right corner, which represents the ideal fertile woman.

Westerners have collected African art for centuries. But do they really understand it? Who determines what is beautiful and what is ugly in African art? Can viewers judge art solely by the standards of beauty in their own culture?

That’s the question a recent exhibit at the Art Institute of Chicago sought to answer. The collection was massive, taking up six or so rooms, filled with over 250 works of art from dozens of cultures across Sub-Saharan Africa. 

The idea is to put art in its cultural context. How did the local communities view these works of art? And how were they used? 

“For some African cultures, scarification, including on the face, is a way to enhance someone’s beauty — especially that of a woman. ”

There’s often a religious aspect to these works. “So the art is not made just to be art,” says Constantine Petridis, chair and curator of arts of Africa at the Art Institute. “It’s art that serves a purpose, serves a function and has a meaning. And that contributes in a very deep and integral way to the survival and the wellbeing of both individuals and societies.” 

Much of this art is literally thought to save lives: It guards ancestors’ remains or fends off evil spirits. 

A Mangbetu woman in 1913 wearing a halo hairstyle with ivory pins, popular in the Democratic Republic of the Congo

African Art Viewed Through an African Lens

It’s time we reevaluated standards of beauty — and understood that what’s attractive or powerful to a Western audience could be very different than that of a Sub-Saharan group. 

“The hope is also to erase prejudices and preconceived notions that have, for a very long time, prevented people from appreciating this art,” Petridis says.

Let’s take a look at some of the commonalities found throughout African art — and see that beauty is more than skin deep.

Male guardian reliquary figures with the heads of children but muscular bodies of adults. Teeth have been sealed behind the eyes to help the statues act as intermediaries with ancestors.

Masculinity is depicted with youthful, muscular bodies and large hands and feet. 

In many African cultures, the ideal male figure is tall and lean, with long limbs, an elongated neck and muscular calves. Why? These physical attributes are deemed necessary to transport heavy loads on the head and to work hard in the fields.

“A youthful appearance in general connotes fertility and also good health and the capability of doing hard work,” Petridis says. 

Large hands and feet are seen as representing the energy and endurance needed on a hunting expedition. 

A statue of the Chokwe mythological hero Chibinda Ilunga, a legendary hunter, made in Angola in 1850

These physical characteristics are often depicted in African sculpture to emphasize physical prowess — essential in a society where men are responsible for hunting, farming and other demanding activities.

A ndop portrait figure of King Mishe miShyaang maMbul, made about 1770 in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. The oversized head symbolizes intelligence.

Works of art depicting male beauty aren’t just for aesthetic appreciation, though; they serve a vital purpose.

“All of these attributes represent or express political and religious authority, and as such, these objects would have been placed on an altar to serve to fight physical as well as metaphysical threats,” Petridis adds. 

A depiction of Kaatyeleo, the Ancient Mother, who nurses babies with the milk of knowledge and evokes authoritative power

The feminine ideal is voluptuous — big belly, rounded hips, a large butt — and sometimes sports a long neck.

The ideal female figure has been a subject of fascination and inspiration for artists throughout history, and African art is no exception. In African sculpture, the ideal female figure is often depicted as having a curvaceous body with wide hips and full breasts. These features are seen as symbols of fertility, femininity and maternal strength.

A portrait of a queen, the wife of King Njike, from early 20th century Cameroon. It once stood in front of the royal palace.

While the exact proportions of the ideal female figure vary between African cultures, there are some common elements frequently seen across the continent. For example, in West Africa, the ideal female figure is often portrayed with a prominent belly and rounded buttocks, while in East Africa, the focus is more on the breasts and elongated neck.

The curvaceous figure of the ideal woman is seen as a reflection of her role as a caretaker and nurturer, responsible for raising healthy children and maintaining a strong family.

An ikam crest mask from Nigeria depicts the fantastical hairstyles girls had created for their initiation into womanhood. Incidentally, these “beautiful maiden” masks were worn by men.

Female figures are frequently depicted with intricate hairstyles and elaborate jewelry, which are seen as a reflection of high status and beauty.

A mwana pwo or pwo mask from Angola is more realistic than other depictions of beauty in African art. It features elements a Westerner wouldn’t consider attractive, including extensive scarification and chipped teeth.

Scarification is considered beautiful. 

This particular aspect of beauty is probably the most difficult for Westerners to grasp. (Then again, look at our obsession with tattoos.) Scarification, a form of body modification that involves creating designs or patterns on skin by cutting or branding, has been practiced for centuries.

Originally used as a post on a veranda in Nigeria, this carving is of a senior royal wife was created by a famous artist, Olówé of Ise. The scarification indicates her high status.

For some African cultures, scarification, including on the face, is a way to enhance someone’s beauty — especially that of a woman. 

Ogo Esu, god of the marketplace, the only orisha, or deity, consistently represented in human form. In Nigeria, his followers would dance with a staff like this, which has a phallic headpiece and cowrie shells associated with wealth.

Morality is synonymous with beauty.

In many African cultures, the concept of beauty is closely tied to morality and ethics. This is reflected in the use of a single word to describe both beauty and goodness. Likewise, the same word is often used to convey ugliness and immorality, highlighting the deep connection between physical appearance and moral character. 

A mbwoongntey, a cup used for palm wine in the Congo

Smooth skin is attractive.

While scarification has been a long-standing tradition in African art, the idea of smooth skin as a standard of beauty is also prevalent. In many African cultures, smooth, flawless skin is considered attractive, healthy and a sign of good hygiene. To achieve that look, some sculptures are polished to a bright shine using leaves or stones. 

But the idea of beauty extends beyond the individual. “A smooth surface is a metaphor for smooth, harmonious social relationships,” Petridis explains.

On the flip side, crusty, rough surfaces are seen as ugly.

A group of dancers from Guinea wearing Bamana Komo helmets with elements from the hyena, a nighttime scavenger.

Ugliness is tied to nature, the wilderness and animals, whereas beauty is connected to humans, the village and community. 

Nature spirits are thought to cause misfortune, illness and even death. Some sculptures were designed to be so strikingly beautiful they would lure in spirits, and the figure would take possession of them, avoiding the trouble they would have otherwise caused. 

“The sculpture becomes an abode, a home for the spirit, and it will receive offerings in order to keep it happy, and therefore remedy the problem in question,” Petridis explains.

This Baule monkey figure from the Côte d’Ivoire features a baboon-headed man representing a bush spirit and untamed wildness.

There’s a duality common throughout Africa: culture vs. nature, community vs. the wilderness. As such, idealized beauty is always presumed to be of human origin, associated with the realm of the village and society. 

At the other end of the spectrum, ugliness correlates with the wild and untamed realm of the jungle outside the boundaries of the village. The works that are deliberately created to be ugly reflect the widely shared belief that coarse and asymmetrical animal-like forms correspond with bad character, malignant magic and death. 

This dichotomy reflects the central role of community and social harmony in African cultures — and the threats that come from the untamed, uncontrolled and unpredictable aspects of nature.

This ngolo mask from the DRC features antelope horns to convey courage, while its protruding eyes signal aggression in the hopes of discouraging outsiders from approaching a boys’ training camp.

“Artists who intend to instill fear through their objects may represent ugliness by mimicking or referencing animals, especially powerful and fearsome ones,” Petridis says. “Additional features will be incorporated into fantastic compositions that comprise elements sourced literally from the natural world — actual animal parts: hides, horns, teeth, fur.”

Ugliness in African art has a power of its own. “They turn it into a dark, dangerous object, an object that inspires fear and terror and therefore also power and authority,” he continues. 

Antelope horns sit atop a nkisi figure from the DRC that depicts a blacksmith from folklore. It held great power and was created to protect an entire village.

Some art has elements of both beauty and ugliness and is meant to astonish. 

Petridis refers to this as “awesome art,” what Westerners might call the sublime. They are meant to both fascinate and terrify.

Nails are driven into a nkisi nkondi, like this one from the DRC, to atone for transgressions. If someone breaks an oath made to the figurine, it’s said to come to life to mete out justice.

“In a literal sense, it refers to objects that are meant to be awe-inspiring. They will literally stop you in your tracks,” he says. “And these objects are considered to be both beautiful and ugly, both terrorizing and attractive at once.”

A large d’mba shoulder mask used during ceremonies features scarification and pendulous breasts — aspects of the feminine ideal among the Baga people of Guinea.

Beauty Is in the Eye of the Beholder

When judging African art, see where there are overlaps or differences from your own preconceived notions, Petridis suggests. Always keep in mind that African art should always be viewed through the language and vocabulary of the culture it comes from.

“Beauty is essential and important and critical in the arts of Africa as well,” he concludes. “But it’s not necessarily the beauty that you as an outsider would see in it.” 

To avoid imposing your own tastes and preferences on art objects, you have to be open to learn and read about the culture in which they function, and what meanings and purposes they convey. And that new understanding is a thing of beauty. –Wally

The King and Queen of Oddities

A Q&A with Ryan Matthew Cohn, with special guest Regina Marie Cohn! We chat about the Oddities Flea Market and a spooky encounter with a disembodied hand. And, of course, it wouldn’t be an interview with the Cohns without mention of disarticulated skeletons.

A portrait of Ryan Matthew and Regina Marie Cohn that reflects their delightfully warped sensibilites

Duke and I have always been drawn to the bizarre. I mean, we put the Island of Dead Dolls at the top of our CDMX itinerary, and we made sure to hit the Catacombs of Paris. Then there’s the oh-so-creepy Mummy Museum of Guanajuato. 

Looking around our place, that fondness for the unusual extends to our décor. A taxidermied monitor lizard. A fertility doll from Cameroon loaded with beads, animal horns and bells. A desiccated chameleon from the witch market in the Marrakech souk. A Javanese puppet head of a little girl in pigtails whose tongue pops out when you pull a string. Duke has decided that our style is “mélange de strahnge.”

Turns out we’re not alone. Ryan Matthew Cohn has made a career out of the growing passion for the weird and the creepy. He was the host of the TV show Oddities and now helps run the Oddities Flea Market with his wife, Regina. –Wally

A glimpse into the Cohn’s oddity-filled Victorian home in Westport, Connecticut

What first got you interested in all things odd? 

Ryan: I actually don’t know. I just always have been interested in things that are out of the ordinary. I don’t know if it was a specific event or item necessarily that sparked my interest. But I do know that even when I was very young, I had a huge interest in collecting. And so I think it really started with that. And then as I became a little bit older, my tastes seemed to gravitate towards things that were a little bit more odd in nature. And then, you know, they sort of blossomed into what they are now.

How do you define an oddity?

Ryan: People use this term, sometimes when we’re talking, they say, “Oh, well, that was different.” And I’m always like, “Tell me more. I happen to like things that are different.” So I think in terms of what oddities are like as a genre, it’s anything that’s sort of out the ordinary, curious, or, you know, just strays from the norm. 

For a really long time, it was stuff that people didn’t really want. It was stuff that you didn’t really find very often. And certainly a core group of people were collecting that stuff — but it's not anywhere near what it is today.

So oddity collecting has become more popular?

Ryan: Oh, for sure. Oddities is like a household word. Now, back in the day, you just had to hope that you’re gonna find that stuff. And actually, I used to find much more, because there was not much competition. And I think because it’s grown into such a huge subgenre of collecting and lifestyle, it’s made it definitely more challenging to find stuff. But that’s why we started the market.

What prompted you to start the Oddities Flea Market?

Ryan: We felt a strong need to bring a community together that didn’t really have a specific place to go. 

Regina: It started as a one-time event in March 2017. And when we couldn’t even get people through the door because the lines were so long, we realized, oh crap, we got to do it again. So we did it again. And then we realized, OK, this is really popular. We’ll bring it back next year. And then we started doing it twice a year. And the following year, I was like, I have a crazy idea: Let’s go to LA. 

Finding venues was always the hardest thing for us, because we’re not the type of event that is going to set up in a hotel or a gymnasium. We’re always trying to find the coolest event spaces, and that’s why we don't do a lot of them. We’re definitely more quality over quantity in general. So I don’t see myself doing more than three or four a year. Right now, it looks like New York, LA and Chicago are always going to be on the roster. And then if I can pull off a fourth one, I will. 

What’s your vetting process for the market?  

Ryan: It’s not necessarily that someone’s not odd enough. It’s curated in a very specific way so that we don't oversaturate what you’ll find in the market. We try not to have too many jewelers, or too many people that work with insects, or too many taxidermists. We try to really keep a very natural flow that makes sense so that when patrons come in there, they have a little bit of everything. We are very selective. It’s a pretty strict process that we go through in terms of deciding who’s going to be at a future market.

You’re dealing with taxidermied animals and sometimes human skulls and the like. Do you ever reject items? What part do ethical or cultural sensibilities play?

Ryan: You have to have a tremendous amount of respect for any of those types of things that you’re dealing with. Of course, with taxidermy, most people claim that they have ethically sourced specimens. So we tend to look for taxidermists that use ethically sourced specimens. Same goes for all of the natural specimens that people use in their artwork and such.

Ryan and Regina’s stunning collection of curiosities includes Spanish santos figures, reliquaries and other ancient artifacts.

What’s the favorite oddity you own?

Ryan: It’s hard to pick one — there’s so many different categories, at least in our collection. Right now, I’m very much into collecting early occult books — books that are from the 14th, 15th and 16th century. And I think those my most coveted items at the moment.

I do collect a lot of saints and reliquaries. Regina and I travel in Europe quite frequently. And every time I go to Europe, I realize that we’re just looking at the literal remains or scraps of what once existed there. It’s very difficult to find the types of things that we collect in America. So, when I go to Europe, I usually fill up a whole suitcase full of paintings and other such things. 

So other kinds of collections, I really try to focus my attention on early forms of memento mori: artwork, sculpture and paintings showcasing the skeleton, because my passion started in anatomy. 

What oddity of all time do you covet the most?

Ryan: You know, it’s funny — there have been large collections that I didn’t end up getting because maybe they went to auction. I’m one of those people, personally, that if an entire museum is for sale, I want to buy the whole thing. I don’t want one or two pieces. I want everything because then I can kind of figure out what I want with select pieces later: Keep the pieces that make the most sense with our own curations and collection, and then maybe sell some of the other pieces to help fund that collection. I feel like at this point in my collecting career, I have a lot of the pieces that I’ve always sought after.

What do you mean when you say you buy a museum?

Ryan: Say a natural history museum had to shut its doors. I’ll buy the whole thing. Or say a private lifelong collector had been compiling things for his whole life. I’ll get a call and we’ll buy it. I won’t buy two or three items. I'll buy like 3,000.

It’s funny when people are like, “Hey, I have this huge collection. Do you want pictures?” I’m like, “Not really.” I’d rather come there and assess it. Because, you know, you need to be there. You need to be ready to drop money and pounce on a collection. Because if you don’t, or someone’s thought about something for too long, there’s been too much time to think and it’s probably gonna go to auction. The kiss of death.

Have there been any supernatural incidents with your oddities?

Ryan: Both Regina and myself have always been open to the idea of spirits and energies and even actual ghosts in our home. But we’ve actually never really seen anything. We’ve just had a couple strange occurrences like, a doll ending up in another part of the house, but not moved by the dogs. 

Regina: One time I was struggling to pull off a zipper. And I turned around, thinking Ryan was helping me — only he wasn’t. He was downstairs. And I found myself making eye contact with a wax hand that was just staring at me.

Ryan: Mind you, the wax hand actually has a glass eye in the middle of it.

I don’t get freaked out about this stuff, personally. If I could get a spirit to manifest itself, I’d probably be a bit wealthier of a human being, cuz I could just charge tickets to come to my house.

Have you ever had any intense reactions from people at the market?

Ryan: Yeah, definitely. A lot of people avoid certain tables. I noticed it’s mostly taxidermy, that people are just so freaked out by it. Or we’ve had people that sort of wandered in from the street and bought a ticket only to go through the market for about two minutes. They are like, what the living hell?! No, that’s not a fake skull.

But for the most part, I think that’s only happened like a handful of times in seven years. Mostly people came to these events because they really wanted to spend time with the vendors and hang out with people.

You two seem to be kindred spirits. How did you meet — and realize you share this affinity for the bizarre?

Ryan: I lived in Brooklyn, and Regina was interested in a skull that I was parting with at the time. It led to meeting up in person because we live close. And, you know, the rest is kind of history. We said, I love you on the third date and basically started working together a year later, doing what we do now.

Regina: Yeah, and I didn’t really know what I was getting into. It was way more intense when I found myself actually entering this world. You know, I came from high fashion luxury. I was working at Agent Provocateur on Madison Avenue. So by day I’m selling lingerie and kimonos; by night I’m learning how to disarticulate a skeleton.

Two years later, I found myself working full time with Ryan. I left my 15-year fashion career to pretty much manage Ryan and then create all these markets.

Ryan: Yeah, Regina is actually the one that started the flea market. I kind of came along for the ride. I think I was more hesitant at the beginning than she was.

The couple collects santos figures like this one-armed articulated 18th century cage doll with glass eyes.

So what’s the best part of your job? 

Ryan: The fact that it never really feels like a job. I mean, obviously there are always deadlines. And we are always very busy, considering we have no kids. We never have time to do anything because we always have our hands full with this, that or the other thing. But we truly do care about our community of people. And that’s the best part about it.

Regina: I don’t have to do the market — I do it because I feel like now the vendors rely on me to do it. That’s how they’ve really launched their businesses on another level. So that’s the fun part of what we do, the Oddities Flea Market. There’s just so much more to our daily life — like we’re writing a book right now.

I was going to ask about your future plans. Tell me about this book.

Ryan: The book I think is gonna probably launch in late 2024. We’re working with Chronicle. It’s going in the direction of telling the tale of what purchasing collections is like, our two different points of views. And then what we did with the collection. 

There are other interesting adventures that we’ve been on. Because when you’re doing this stuff all the time, you sort of take it for granted. You go, oh, yeah, we just bought a museum. And yeah, that’s really fun. But we do it so frequently that it almost doesn’t seem terribly interesting after a while. But when we tell the story, people are always intrigued and have a lot of questions. And I think the book came as a result of that.

What about your art, Ryan?

Ryan: I actually have a gallery show coming up in November in Seattle at Roq La Rue Gallery. 

Because we travel so frequently, we tend to be pretty busy. I don’t get to work on my art as frequently as I used to. But I do try to be selective. I usually feature a piece or two a year in a show.

Most of the work that I do these days is based on antiques. So for instance, at this upcoming show, I’m working with 18th century saint statues that I’m articulating. And so they’re sort of a mixture of the earlier pieces that I did with osteological specimens but using antique wood, genuine pieces that were purchased from Italy and other places that I traveled to.

One of Ryan's Beauchêne exploded skulls

I know you’ve worked with skulls and broken them apart.

That’s something that I still do on occasion. But like I said, I’m very selective at this point in my career. I do as much of that stuff as I can. But it gets very, very time consuming and requires a ton of patience. 

Oddities Flea Market: A Bizarre Bazaar of Unforgettable Finds

Regina and Ryan Cohn’s warped brainchild is a fantastic journey of curious collectibles.

The Oddities Flea Market is filled with items to start your own cabinet of curiosities.

When I asked Wally about attending the Oddities Flea Market, an event that brings together vendors from all over the country to sell their unusual wares, his answer was a resounding yes. (Actually, he probably looked at me and said, “Uh, duh.”)

We knew we were kindred spirits when we met — but before Wally, I identified as a minimalist. He’s a maximalist and loves collecting things. Turns out that when a minimalist moves in with a maximalist, you end up with just a little bit more stuff. I decided to embrace the aesthetic and figure out ways to creatively curate vignettes. Eventually, I succumbed and became a maximalist, too. 

Our burgeoning collection of oddities consists of a human skull named Malachi that’s supposedly a World War II trophy, a taxidermied squirrel with an Elizabethan lace collar, a two-headed African fetish figure, or nkondi, stuck full of nails, and a mummified llama fetus our friend Hugo picked up for Wally in Ecuador — to name just a few. 

When it came to the fair, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I knew that local chef Halee Raff of Hardbitten would be there with her elevated and colorful riff on Pop-Tarts, as well as Woolly Mammoth, one of our favorite shops in the Andersonville neighborhood, but other than that I wasn’t sure what we’d find. 

Vendors from around the country have booths at the market.

Embracing the Strange: The Birth of the Oddities Flea Market

The Oddities Flea Market was founded by Regina and Ryan Cohn about six years ago. Ryan was well-versed in buying and collecting antiques and oddities while Regina was making a name for herself in fashion. They combined their passions into a traveling emporium that celebrates the weird and wonderful. 

Their first market launched in 2017 and introduced the concept of oddity collecting to the general public at the now-shuttered Brooklyn Bazaar. Since then, the Cohns have expanded to additional markets in Los Angeles and Chicago. “It’s only the second time we’ve been to Chicago,” Ryan told us. “So it was a nice reintroduction.”

I am doll parts: some of the creepy-cute creations from Sideshow Gallery

This year the Chicago market was held over two days in April at Morgan Manufacturing. The red brick building predates the Great Chicago Fire of 1871 and acts as an industrial chic event space in the hip West Loop neighborhood. 

We weren’t alone in our curiosity for curiosities. When we arrived at 11 a.m. for VIP early access, there was already a small queue forming. Some lucky attendees had planned ahead and signed up to take a cat skeleton articulation class taught by Ryan. By the time we had gotten our tickets, the workshop was sold out. Next time. Maybe. 

Death masks on display from Wooly Mammoth

Not for the Faint of Heart: Entering the Fair

After checking in, we passed a booth which featured a selection of T-shirts and totes for sale (black, of course). We took a closer look and noticed that the screen-printed images were of Ryan’s personal work — Beauchêne, also known as the art of the exploded human skull.

The soundtrack for the event was provided by Dead Animal Assembly Plant, spinning songs near the entrance, with a backdrop of projections of creepy vintage cartoons. 

Spooky and silly classic cartoons played above DJs from Dead Animal Assembly Plant.

Wally and I couldn’t help but salivate as we passed by the selection of Hardbitten’s delectable baked goods. Nearby, the sophisticated cocktail bar offered a variety of specialty drinks, each with an intriguing name: Memento Mori, Sideshow, the Veneration, Wunderkammer. No judging, but it was a bit early for us to imbibe. If you were seeking a caffeine fix, Spiritus Coffee from Lombard, Illinois was the place to go.

A seclection of Hardbitten’s treats, including their riffs on Pop-Tarts

We wandered through the market, discovering an impressive variety of wondrous wares: natural history specimens, taxidermy (both artistic and traditional), creative jewelry and a few truly macabre specimens. Here are a few of our favorites. 

A woman poses for her tintype photo from Blkk Hand.

A Handful of Shadows: Blkk Hand

St. Paul-based photographer Carla Alexandra Rodriguez uses an old-school process known as wet-plate collodion to create eerily beautiful tintype portraits. This method, which dates back to the 1850s, requires precise chemistry, accurate timing and a classic large-format camera. 

Silver nitrate is used in the processing of tinplate photography and is a highly reactive chemical that can cause skin to turn black if it’s not handled properly. Her studio, Blkk Hand takes its name from this phenomenon — and is why Carla always wears gloves when working. 

Nora Past, seen in a developing tintype photo, assisted at the booth.

How’s it work? The process begins with coating a metal plate with a collodion solution that contains a mixture of alcohol, ether and silver nitrate. Each plate is exposed to light in the camera, which converts the silver nitrate to silver metal. 

This challenging and time-consuming method produces incredibly detailed images with an ethereal quality, capturing the beauty of a moment in a way that no other type of photography can.

Memento Mori Los Angeles co-sponsored the flea market.

Death Becomes Them: Memento Mori Los Angeles

Our favorite booth at the flea market belonged to Memento Mori Los Angeles, run by Brad and Deidre Hartman, a Cali-based duo who create beautiful and macabre works of art. Their pieces are a reminder of the inevitability of death, while also celebrating the beauty of life.

Among their fascinating objects were skulls, insects, crystals, jewelry, and an assortment of devotional candles featuring musical artists like Siouxsie Sioux and Nick Cave. We were mesmerized at the offerings, including a riff on the infamous Fiji mermaid hoax, a glass cloche containing human teeth and a basket filled with supple leathered purses made from genuine cane toads. I was skeptical at first when I picked one up to examine it — but it was definitely real. Don’t feel too bad, though. These amphibians were originally introduced as a means of pest control, but ended up becoming an invasive species. So now, instead of eating cane beetles, they’re just hanging out as purses and looking cute. I suppose there are worse fates. 

A replica of the Fiji mermaid, a Witchling chick and other artistic takes on taxidermy from Memento Mori Los Angeles

I was particularly drawn to their Witchlings, yellow ducklings wearing tiny witch hats, as well as a two-headed duckling called Double Trouble. Brad and Deidre’s work is a reminder to live life to the fullest and to appreciate the beauty that surrounds us, even in death.

Playful fake taxidermied heads on display at the Odds and Ends booth

Faux Real: Odds and Ends 

We stopped by Odds and Ends, featuring the work of Atlanta-based Chloë Grass, who creates quirky faux taxidermy trophies and other oddities. She studied at the Arts University Bournemouth in the U.K., where she honed her skills in prosthetics sculpting and special effects makeup.

I loved her double-headed lamb, which was both cute and creepy. (I’m realizing I have a thing for two-headed creatures.) It was definitely a conversation starter, and I couldn’t help but smile when I saw it. Chloë’s creations reflect my favorite type of art: whimsical and a little bit weird.

A selection of vintage fake eyes at Eyeba’s booth

I Only Have Eyes for You: Eyeba

We were blown away by Brooklyn-based jeweler Amanda Maer Huan’s booth at the flea market, Eyeba. She takes antique prosthetic eyes and sets them in sterling silver to create rings, pendants and other fine jewelry.

As we browsed her wares, Amanda gave us a brief education on the myth of the round glass eye. While the visible portion of the prosthesis appears round, the part that sits within the eye socket is actually curved like a pasta shell. They’re custom-made to match the size and color of the wearer’s functioning eye. 

Windows to your soul? Amazing rings from Eyeba

The rings were hypnotic. I had to literally drag Wally away.

Deadskull Curio had the most macabre offerings at the market.

A Portal to Another World: Deadskull Curio 

Deadskull Curio was the most global booth at the Oddities Flea Market. It had everything from hand-carved wood masks to antique Asian marionette puppets to Tibetan kapala skull cups. They even had black and white morgue and crime scene photos from the 1960s, vertebrae and a horrific preserved cat’s head in a jar of formaldehyde.

The collection of death photos had a warning

The booth is owned by Paul Abrahamian, who, randomly, competed in two seasons of Big Brother. He was a cool guy who was obviously passionate about his collection. Items were flying off the shelves as we were looking at them — but we decided to pass on the cat’s head specimen. It would have been like having a pet cemetery in our living room, and we’re not sure our cat Bowzer would have appreciated it.

The saucy teacups from Miss Havisham’s Curiosities were inspired by the owner’s cheeky grandmother.

Steeped in Humor: Miss Havisham’s Curiosities 

Miss Havisham's Curiosities is a line of insult teacups created by Melissa Johnson. The idea was inspired by two sources: the jilted bride trapped in time in Charles Dickens’ novel Great Expectations, and Melissa’s grandmother, who expressed herself by writing offensive things on broken or chipped teacups with nail polish and then selling them at her antique shop.

On the outside, these teacups are proper, often vintage, china. But on the inside, they’re hiding naughty surprises: cheeky insults written in cursive:  “Syphilitic,” “No one likes you!” and “Not today, Satan!” The teacups are the perfect way to spill the tea and say what you really mean…without actually having to say it.

Hidden in the Poison Forest, 2021

We were drawn to Katie Gamb’s artwork because of its twee yet sinister quality.

Sugar and Spice, But Not Everything Nice: Katie Gamb 

Katie Gamb is a Milwaukee-based artist who creates whimsical and macabre worlds in her illustrations. Her work is a love letter to a childhood spent lost in books, where animals, humans and monsters like skeletons all live together in a world of wonder. As Wally and I looked at her work, I turned to him and said, “They’re adorable at first glance — but they get a little creepy when you look closer.”

“That’s exactly what I go for,” Katie said, smiling at us.

My Heart’s Still Beating, 2019

Like much of the art we appreciate, Gamb’s works tread the line between creepy and cute.

One piece depicted a bird fluttering within the rib cage of a skeleton, while another showed a girl dressed as a ghost in a forest of poisonous plants. Katie’s imagination is a portal to a strange and wondrous world, where anything is possible. I regret not circling back to purchase a sticker featuring a sad cat playing an accordion with a feather sticking out of its mouth.

Katie’s work reminds us that the world isn’t always as it seems. There’s beauty in the darkness.

Feral Femme Art’s booth evoked a freakshow from the past with interactive artworks.

Step Right Up, Folks: Feral Femme Art

We ended the show at the Feral Femme Art booth, with a conversation with Rachaela DiRosaria, a New Orleans-based folk artist who creates assemblages that evoke the nostalgia of Depression-era circus and sideshow advertising. Their hand-painted figures and moveable parts bring these sideshow performers and circus freaks to life. 

Artist Rachaela DiRosaria posing with Zach Wager, who spun records at the market.

Inveterate

Funhouse

The Tattooed Woman

Rachaela’s work is infused with a dark humor that’s both playful and unsettling — an interactive stagecraft of delight.

Double Trouble has found a new home amid the other oddities chez Duke and Wally.

After making our way through the different vendors, I turned to Wally and said, “I’d like to go back and get Double Trouble. Are you cool with that?” To which Wally replied, “Obvi.” 

Exploring the Oddities Flea Market was a quirky adventure that appealed to our inner freaks, and we’re glad we had the chance to attend. 

The next iteration will be held at the Globe Theatre in LA on October 7, 2023 — a perfect day, in my humble opinion, as it’s also my birthday.  –Duke

Crazy, Cartoonish, Controversial: The Art of Mu Pan

A Q&A with the avant-garde artist who creates elaborate hellscapes of violence and monsters and has been featured in the horror film Midsommar. 

Me Like Sushi by Mu Pan, 2015

Monkeys and human-headed crows eating sushi off a screaming woman. A multi-armed Christ shooting machine guns. A yak-headed samurai slicing a cowboy in half. Countless battles between bizarre beasts. Oh, and a creepy mural that foreshadows the dread to come in the horror flick Midsommar. 

“Every monster I draw is actually a self-portrait. ”

— Mu Pan, American Fried Rice 

Looking at the scope of his elaborate artworks, you notice certain themes: Mu Pan holds a cynical and misanthropic view of human nature and society. His paintings are used to express his anger and frustration with the issues he cares about, such as racism, colonialism, U.S. politics and pop culture.

Yes, if there’s one thing the artist Mu Pan isn’t afraid to be, it’s provocative.

Mu Pan’s epic-scale nightmares depict violence, gore, sex and, yes, humor. His art is like if Hieronymus Bosch and Henry Darger had a half-aborted fetus. 

Rabbits by Mu Pan, 2020

He challenges viewers to confront their own prejudices and to question the narratives they’ve been told.

“Drawing and painting are for me the most obvious ways to claim justice,” Mu Pan says in his book American Fried Rice. “I use creation as a pretext to highlight everything I dislike such as violence, conflict or lies.”

When Duke and I saw Mu Pan’s work, it was love at first sight. 

The artist at work

A Brief Bio of Mu Pan

The artist known as Mu Pan was born in Taichung City, Taiwan in 1976. He grew up there and emigrated to the United States with his parents in 1997. He studied at the School of Visual Arts in New York City, where he obtained a bachelor’s degree in illustration in 2001 and a master’s in illustration as visual essay in 2007. He lives and works in Brooklyn.

“Now I’m just bitter,” Mu Pan says in American Fried Rice. “I hate everybody equally. I’m not American, but I’m also not Chinese anymore. I’m glad I have both and I don’t have both.”

From the Compendium of Materia MUdica by Mu Pan, 2020

We were intrigued. So we reached out to Mu Pan to see if he’d answer some of our questions. To our surprise and delight, he obliged us. 

Some of his responses are head-scratchers — but that’s part of why we’re so fascinated with him. –Wally

Detail from The Loyal Retainers Part VI: South China Sea, 2016

Q&A With Mu Pan

What influences your artwork? 

Ancient art — the less sophisticated the better. Anything that has no Western influence. 

I used to be so into Japanese woodblock prints, but now I don’t feel anything for them anymore.

I listen to audiobooks while I work. 

When I was younger, I was influenced a lot by Louis Cha. Now I’m more into Mo Yan. Most images I make are stolen from books. 

I also get influenced by Hong Kong and Japanese cinema from the ’80s and ’90s.

Whale Explosion by Mu Pan, 2018

What artists do you love? 

I don’t love any living artists. I kinda hate them. Cuz they all make much more money than me and I don’t think my talent is less than theirs. They are just businesspeople. I can tell you I hate Murakami the most. And yes, I said that.

Also, I hate their fans to like my work. 

My favorite dead artist is Henry Darger. When I get frustrated and depressed, I think of him, then I can keep going on.

Momlego Egg by Mu Pan, 2023

What part does folklore play in your art?

I am more into history than folklore. 

Mu Pan’s Dinoasshole Chapter 1 by Mu Pan, 2016

There’s a violence to your art but also a playfulness. Can you talk about that?

My violence is cartoon. I am a very peaceful person indeed. I just have too much anger. And when I am angry at someone or something, I just purely wish the person would die in the most painful way.

And I hate being pretentious. I don’t believe that there is anyone in this world who doesn’t enjoy vengeance and violence. Our history is made of that, and even the Bible is full of violence.

I see that being fake and nice is worse than violence, and I still believe that violence is the ultimate method used to solve problems. Just look at the U.S.  government — they rely on violence and power. And they are pretentious as hell.

Mu Pan’s studio. Even though there are two works in progress, he told us he can only work on one at a time.

Tell us about your process. 

It really depends on how I feel. I don’t like to do small pieces, cuz I like to show off my strength that others don’t have — especially doing tiny figures on a big scale. I like to do things that people are not willing to, and I will not be submissive to anyone. You can call that stupidity, and I admit that I am stupid. 

Each piece takes a long time to make, because I don’t prepare — neither do I like to make any sketches. Sketches are for products, illustrations or to feed a dumb audience. I draw as I think, and I often erase everything I did the day before.

Life is too short. Being myself is more important than making others happy.

From the series Shit History of China by Mu Pan, 2010

You were born in Taiwan and identify as Chinese. How does your heritage influence your worldview?

I am Chinese because my father is Chinese, and so was his father and his father before him.

My grandfathers fought the Japanese, and we were never colonized. 

If you ask Bruce Lee if he is Chinese, he would say yes for sure — even though he was born in San Francisco and raised in Hong Kong. 

I don’t give a shit about Western ideology. 

Be There Soon by Mu Pan, 2023

When did you first get into drawing? 

Since the first time I could make a mark on a piece of paper with a pencil.

Mu Pan created the ominous mural featured in the movie Midsommar.

Tell us about your collaboration with Ari Aster, director of Midsommar. 

Ari is a cool guy. I met him when he asked me to make the opening image for Midsommar. He is very busy and I don’t get to talk to him much. But we have been friends ever since then.

I asked him for a favor to write the forward of my book.

Dispelling Myths and Misconceptions About the Church of Satan

They don’t actually worship the Devil, for one thing. Here are 5 surprising facts you need to know, from Satanist beliefs to the controversies that hound them — and the differences between the Church of Satan and the Satanic Temple.

There’s nothing scary about the Church of Satan — except, perhaps, their propensity for creepy costumes.

In the classic Saturday Night Live skit, Dana Carvey dresses up as the priggish Church Lady, and she’s got one thing on her mind: “Is it…Satan?!” For her, Satan has everything to do with it. And when discussing the Church of Satan, it’s ironic (and surprising) to learn that Satan doesn’t really have anything to do with it. 

When you hear the words “Church of Satan,” like the Church Lady, you might picture a bunch of cultists clad in black robes, worshiping the Devil in nefarious ways. Maybe sacrificing a kitten or puppy now and then. 

But the reality is much less salacious. The Church of Satan, founded in 1966 by a former carnie named Anton Szandor LaVey, is really just an organization that rejects traditional religious dogma in favor of individualism, rebellion and personal freedom. 

“Satanism is often misunderstood as a religion promoting evil, violence and debauchery.

In fact, it’s a peaceful and individualistic philosophy that champions personal freedom, critical thinking and rationalism.”

— Blanche Barton, former high priestess of the Church of Satan

“Satanism is often misunderstood as a religion promoting evil, violence and debauchery,” Blanche Barton, former high priestess of the Church of Satan, told Rolling Stone. “In fact, it’s a peaceful and individualistic philosophy that champions personal freedom, critical thinking and rationalism.” 

Here are some of the most surprising facts about the Church of Satan that will make you question everything you thought you knew about Satanism.  

No baptism by the Devil necessary — in fact, Satan is really just a symbol for the carnal, material and earthly aspects of life.

1.  They don’t actually worship Satan.

Despite what the Bible thumpers might tell you, members of the Church of Satan don’t actually worship Satan as a literal being. There is no red-skinned Devil clutching a pitchfork and eager to torture sinners for eternity in Hell. Instead, they see Satan as a symbol of individualism, freedom and self-determination. According to the Church of Satan’s website, “Satan represents the carnal, material and earthly aspects of life.” By embracing these qualities, members seek to live life to the fullest and pursue their own desires and goals, no matter how “sinful” they may seem to others. In fact, Satanism preaches atheism. 

What does the Church of Satan believe? If booze and drugs are your thing, you do you — so long as you don’t hurt anyone.

2. Evil isn’t what it’s all about. Satanic beliefs center on being true to yourself and questioning authority.

The Church of Satan has a set of guiding principles known as the Nine Satanic Statements, originally written by LaVey in 1969 in The Satanic Bible. These statements emphasize the importance of individuality, skepticism and critical thinking. For example, the first Satanic Statement reads, “Satan represents indulgence instead of abstinence!” (Not sure why LaVey felt like he needed to shout them all.) This encourages members to indulge in all of life’s pleasures, including sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll.

Members of the Church of Satan seem to be very dramatic — and that includes Anton Szandor LaVey, its founder and author of The Satanic Bible.

The Nine Satanic Statements

Here’s the full list:

1. Satan represents indulgence instead of abstinence!

2. Satan represents vital existence instead of spiritual pipe dreams!

3. Satan represents undefiled wisdom instead of hypocritical self-deceit!

4. Satan represents kindness to those who deserve it instead of love wasted on ingrates!

5. Satan represents vengeance instead of turning the other cheek!

6. Satan represents responsibility to the responsible instead of concern for psychic vampires!

7. Satan represents man as just another animal, sometimes better, more often worse than those that walk on all-fours, who, because of his “divine spiritual and intellectual development,” has become the most vicious animal of all!

8. Satan represents all of the so-called sins, as they all lead to physical, mental or emotional gratification!

9. Satan has been the best friend the Church has ever had, as He has kept it in business all these years!

There’s mention of vengeance, of selfishness, of sins. The Church of Satan doesn’t believe in limiting its members’ choices or imposing moral restrictions. Instead, it encourages Satanists to pursue their own desires and goals — as long as they don’t harm others or infringe on their rights. (It’s not so far off from the Wiccan Rede, “An’ it harm none, do what ye will.”) This means that members are free to engage in activities that might be considered taboo or controversial by mainstream society and prudish worshippers of other religions, from BDSM to witchcraft — and even, God forbid, playing Dungeons & Dragons.

“Satanism is about elevating and empowering the self, not wallowing in guilt or self-denial. It’s about pursuing one’s own desires and goals, while respecting the rights and freedoms of others,” says Peter H. Gilmore, author of The Satanic Scriptures.

The Church of Satan takes a libertarian approach to politics and society, emphasizing individual rights and freedoms above all else. According to the Church of Satan’s website, “Satanists believe in free will, self-preservation and autonomy.” This means that the church is opposed to authoritarianism, censorship and other forms of control that limit individual expression and freedom. So if you’re sick of the government telling you what to do and think, maybe it’s time to join the Satanist movement.

Satan Exulting Over Eve by William Blake, 1795

3. The Church of Satan doesn’t require specific rituals or practices — but orgies are OK, it that’s your thing.

Unlike many other religious and spiritual organizations, the Church of Satan doesn’t require its members to engage in specific rituals or practices. Satanists are free to choose their own path and approach. However, the Church of Satan does offer resources and guidance for those who want to participate in Satanic rituals or ceremonies, including baptisms, weddings and even orgies (releasing lust is seen as an essential need).

Devil worshippers are everywhere — and they’re coming for your children! That was what some people believed in the ’80s, during the Satanic Panic. Thankfully, Wally’s parents still let him play D&D.

4. The Church has been embroiled in numerous controversies, including the so-called Satanic Panic.

The Church of Satan has faced controversy and opposition from mainstream society since its inception. Some people have accused the Church of promoting violence and immorality, while others have labeled it a dangerous cult. However, the Church of Satan has consistently maintained that it’s a legitimate religious organization that promotes personal freedom and individualism, and has even won legal battles in defense of its rights.

In the 1980s and ’90s, the Church of Satan became embroiled in what was dubbed the Satanic Panic, a wave of hysteria that swept across the United States and other countries. During this time, many people believed that Satanic cults were operating in secret, engaging in human sacrifice, ritual abuse and other horrific acts. While there was no real evidence to support these claims, the Church of Satan was frequently targeted and was blamed for influencing the behavior of alleged cult members, including brainwashed youth.

The Satanic Temple is a much more political group than the Church of Satan. They fought to have a statue of the demon Baphomet placed outside the Arkansas State Capitol next to a sculpture of the 10 Commandments as a protest against the lack of a separation of church and state.

5. The Church of Satan shouldn’t be confused with the Satanic Temple — the group behind the Baphomet statue in Arkansas.

While the Church of Satan and the Satanic Temple share some similarities in terms of their general beliefs and philosophies, they are distinct organizations with different leadership, history and goals.

The Satanic Temple, founded in 2013, has a more politically active and socially engaged mission. It uses the symbol of Satan as a tool to challenge authority, promote religious freedom and individual liberties, and advocate for social justice and progressive values. The Satanic Temple is organized as a nonprofit and engages in various campaigns, such as advocating for reproductive rights and opposing government-sanctioned displays of religion.

In 2018, the Satanic Temple wanted a bronze statue of Baphomet, a deity with a goat’s head and a human body, to be placed next to a monument of the 10 Commandments on the grounds of the Arkansas State Capitol.

While the statue was ultimately never installed due to a legal dispute, the controversy sparked a heated debate over the separation of church and state and the role of religious expression in public spaces. The temple’s involvement in the statue project once again highlighted the organization’s commitment to free speech and individual rights, and raised important questions about the limits of religious expression in the public sphere.

“We are not merely fighting to install this statue in Arkansas, we are fighting for the constitutional rights of all Americans,” Lucien Greaves, co-founder of the Satanic Temple, told NPR.

Despite their differences, both the Church of Satan and the Satanic Temple share a commitment to individual freedom, critical thinking and opposition to oppressive authority. They also both seek to challenge the dominant religious and moral values of society, and promote a more nuanced and rational understanding of the human experience.

Satan in His Original Glory: ‘Thou Wast Perfect Till Iniquity Was Found in Thee’ by William Blake, circa 1805

Speak of the Devil

The Church of Satan is more than just a bunch of weirdos chanting in black robes (though, if you see some of their pictures on their website, that seems to be a part of their ceremonies). It’s a legitimate religious organization that promotes individualism, free thought and personal freedom. While it may not be for everyone, the Church of Satan is certainly not the sinister cult that many people make it out to be. Whether you’re a hardcore Satanist or just a curious outsider, the Church of Satan is a fascinating and provocative institution that deserves to be taken seriously. 

Stop worrying about centuries-old moral codes? Do what’s right for you — so long as you don’t hurt others? That all sounds pretty heavenly to me. 

So why not join the dark side and see what all the fuss is about? Who knows — you might just find your true calling as a card-carrying member of the Church of Satan. –Wally

When Did Jesus Become God? 5 Startling Findings in the Gospels

Matthew, Mark, Luke and John offer differing views of Christ’s divinity. Some say he became divine at his baptism, others that he has always been one with God. Plus: Did the idea of the Virgin Mary come from a misunderstanding?

Jesus was crucified and came to be viewed as divine after his resurrection. But as time went on, the Gospel writers altered this view, offering different takes on when Jesus became one with God.

Icon of the Crucifixion by Andreas Pavias, second half of the 15th century

What did the earliest Christians believe? The first writings about Jesus reveal that his original followers thought that he became divine upon his resurrection. 

But that’s not a belief shared in all of the books of the New Testament. In fact, there was hardly a consensus among early followers. “Different Christians in different churches in different regions had different views of Jesus, almost from the get-go,” writes Bart D. Ehrman in the 2014 book How Jesus Became God: The Exaltation of a Jewish Preacher From Galilee. 

“If Jesus claimed to be equal with God,
wouldn’t the earlier Gospels have mentioned it? ”

---

Here are five surprising findings revealed in a study of the Gospels.

Early Christians believed Jesus became divine upon his resurrection — but in the earliest Gospel, Mark, the timeline had been moved back to his baptism.

Theophany, an icon of the Baptism of the Lord, 20th century

1. The Gospel of Mark doesn’t mention that Mary was a virgin, and declares that Jesus became divine only after being baptized. 

According to Mark, Jesus was fully human up until the point that John the Baptist baptizes him. Once this happens, the Spirit of God descends as a dove and a voice from the heavens declares, “You are my beloved son, in you I am well pleased” (Mark 1:9-11). 

It is only after this has happened that Jesus begins his own ministry, now one with God, and is able to perform miracles (walk on water, raise the dead), cast out demons and forgive sins.  

The author of Luke literally changed the words of God because the earlier view that Jesus became divine after being baptized had become a heresy.

The Baptism of Christ by Domenico Ghirlandaio, 1490

2. A passage in Luke was changed from its original to downplay the statement that Jesus became the Son of God at his baptism.

We don’t have any original documents of the New Testament. What we do have are copies made centuries later — many of which have been altered and differ from each other. One such passage about Jesus’ baptism in Luke tweaks what God says. “But in several of our old witnesses to the text, the voice says something else,” Ehrman writes. “It quotes Psalm 2:7: ‘You are my Son, today I have begotten you.’” 

Why make this change? Ehrman says that “when scribes were copying the texts of Luke in later centuries, the view that Jesus was made the Son [of God] at the baptism was considered not just inadequate, but heretical.” Jesus was always divine, and any other teaching needed to be suppressed — even if that’s what early Christians believed.

What if Mary wasn’t a virgin? The earliest mentions of her don’t say anything of the sort — and the concept only sprung up in Matthew with a bad translation.

The Creation of Man by Natalie Lennard, 2017

3. The Gospel of Matthew mentions the virgin birth — but this is a misinterpretation of an early prophecy.

The book of the Old Testament prophet Isaiah declares, “A virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and his name shall be called Immanuel” (Isaiah 7:14). Never mind that Jesus isn’t actually called Immanuel; the author must have made the connection because the name translates to “God Is With Us.” Turns out the quote isn’t actually about the coming messiah at all. 

To top it off, Matthew mentions the virgin birth because of a bad translation. The author read a Greek translation of Isaiah many centuries later. The original Hebrew word, alma, means “young woman” but it was translated with the Greek parthenos, which carries the connotation of a young woman who has never had sex. It’s this misinterpretation that leads Ehrman and other biblical scholars to believe that this is the origin of Mary becoming the Virgin. 

As time when on, Jesus’ divinity got earlier and earlier, until the last Gospel, John, states that he had always been one with God.

Jesus Christ by Cathy Dobson, 1994

4. It’s not until John, the latest of the Gospels, that Jesus is declared to have always existed as an equal to God.

The author of John doesn’t hold that Jesus was exalted into a divine state; he is the same as God and was his human incarnation on Earth for a few decades. This is the view of Jesus held today by most Christians — but it’s certainly not what his earliest followers, including the 12 Disciples, believed. As previously mentioned, they thought that Jesus became divine only after his resurrection and later ascension into Heaven. 

The Gospel of John declares that Jesus is the Word of God and was essential to Creation. The text deliberately calls to mind the opening lines of Genesis.

The ceiling fresco of Chiesa di Sant’Orsola in Como, Italy, painted by Giovanni Domenico Caresana, 1616

5. An even higher view of Christ is found in the Gospel of John: that Jesus is the Word of God — and, as such, is responsible for creating the world. 

The Gospel of John is the latest of the four, written in Greek 60 or so years after Jesus died, in a different part of the world — Ephesus, in modern-day Turkey. 

“For John,” Ehrman writes, “Jesus was an equal with God and even shared his name and his glory in his preincarnate state.”

Take John 5:17-18, one of many examples: “This was why the Jews sought all the more to kill him, because not only was he breaking the Sabbath, but he was also calling God his own Father, thereby making himself equal to God.”

Much discussion has taken place around the so-called Prologue of John, the first 18 verses of the book. It presents the most elevated view of Jesus’ divinity imaginable: “even before he appeared, he was the Logos of God himself, a being who was God, the one through whom the entire universe was created,” Ehrman explains. 

But if that was the case, and Jesus made such claims about himself, wouldn’t the earlier Gospels have mentioned it? There’s nothing to be found in Matthew, Mark or Luke, however. 

The four Gospel writers all have their own take on when Jesus became God.

Christ in mandorla with the Evangelists, from the Reichenau Illumination, early 11th century

Christians today tend not to take such a close look at the Gospels, not noticing the discrepancies and not aware of the historical evidence. It’s shocking to think that the form of Christianity practiced today doesn’t align with some of the views of the Four Gospels. John’s view of Jesus as one with (but somehow distinct from) God the Father has won out. But it seems as if it could easily have gone another way. –Wally

What Did the Earliest Christians Believe?

The original views of Christ differ significantly from current beliefs. No virgin birth, no divine status during his lifetime — instead, Jesus was a mortal like the rest of us, until God decided to resurrect him and he became the Son of God.

The first Christians didn’t believe that Jesus had been born of a virgin or was already divine. He was a typical human until God resurrected him.

The Resurrection by James Tissot, circa 1890

How can we know what the earliest Christians believed when the first writings about him are from 20 years after his death? 

Scholars turn to what’s called preliterary sources — that is, snippets of text, whether they’re hymns or creeds of faith, that have been inserted into later books of the Bible. You can tell they’re most likely earlier oral traditions that have been added because they not only use terminology found nowhere else in the works, but they also often present different theological views. 

For instance, in Romans 1:3-4, Paul describes Jesus as he “who was descended from the seed of David according to the flesh, who was appointed Son of God in power according to the Spirit of holiness by his resurrection from the dead.”

The first part expresses a long-held belief by Jesus’ followers: that he was the promised messiah from the line of King David. This is a surprising inclusion for Paul, the earliest Christian author; nowhere else does he emphasize Jesus’ messiahship. 

The second part of the Bible verse holds a key element of early Christian belief: Jesus became the Son of God at his resurrection. A similar snippet from Acts 13:32-33 posits the same view, even though that’s in stark contrast to what the author later writes (and is currently part of the Christian faith) — namely that Jesus was divine from the moment of his conception.

“There is no talk about Jesus being born of a virgin and certainly no talk of him being divine during his lifetime.”

— Bart D. Ehrman, “How Jesus Became God”

Jesus was said to have been resurrected and, some time after, ascended into Heaven to be with God.

The Ascension by Benjamin West, 1801

What’s most striking is that “there is no talk about Jesus being born of a virgin and certainly no talk of him being divine during his lifetime,” writes Bart D. Ehrman in How Jesus Became God: The Exaltation of a Jewish Preacher From Galilee, published in 2014. “He is a human figure, possibly a messiah. But then at a critical point of his existence, he is elevated from his previous lowly existence down here with us, the other mere mortals, to sit at God’s right hand in a position of honor, power and authority.”

Ehrman emphasizes the importance of this act: “the man Jesus is showered with divine favors beyond anyone’s wildest dreams, honored by God to an unbelievable extent, elevated to a divine status on a level with God himself, sitting at his right hand.”

This belief helped give a positive spin to a man whose followers must have been disheartened that their messiah didn’t destroy their oppressors but was instead tortured and executed by them. It certainly wasn’t what any of them was expecting of their hero. 

But Jesus’ “resurrection confirmed for them that even though he had not conquered his political enemies — the way the messiah was supposed to — God had showered his special favor on him by raising him from the dead,” Ehrman writes. 

Early Christians thought that Jesus was indeed their messiah despite having been crucified. God resurrected him and made him his adopted son and heir — with all the power and glory that involved.

The Resurrection of Christ by Rafael, 1502

Adopted Sons

To the people of the time, there wasn’t any stigma attached to being an adopted son — in fact, quite the opposite. In Ancient Rome, the adopted son was the chosen heir. “He was made great because he had demonstrated the potential for greatness, not because of the accident of his birth,” Ehrman explains. 

Take Julius Caesar. He had a son, Caesarion, with Cleopatra — but not too many people have heard of him. Instead, it’s his nephew and adopted son, Octavian, who has a major place in history: He went on to become Augustus, the first emperor of the Roman Empire.

So when the earliest Christians talked about Jesus being God’s adopted son, they were saying this: “He received all of God’s power and privileges. He could defy death. He could forgive sins. He could be the future judge of the earth. He could rule with divine authority,” Ehrman writes. “He was for all intents and purposes God.” –Wally

Magical Mystery Tour of the Chapel of Jimmy Ray

A glimpse into the glittering and colorful legacy of the self-taught expat artist Anado McLauchlin at his house outside of San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. 

There’s no denying that a visit to the Chapel of Jimmy Ray will be a unique experience.

When planning a trip, Wally and I seek out quirky sites that are in close proximity to where we’re visiting. That’s how I first came across the Chapel of Jimmy Ray on Atlas Obscura — followed by an intensive image search on Instagram. I shared the fantastical artwork with Wally but was getting worried our itinerary was filling up. He said we’d make the time. 

And, really, how could we pass up such a weird and wonderful attraction during our stay in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico?!

Don’t go expecting to see a chapel, FYI. It’s actually a 2.5-acre complex literally filled with the unusual art of the late Anado McLauchlin. 

The Casa de las Ranas might be too crazy for other people, but Wally and Duke would be more than happy to call it their home.

Since it isn’t exactly easy to find, we hired a driver to take us there. The mosaic wonderland is located at the end of an unpaved dead-end road in La Cieneguita, a small town about 30 minutes from San Miguel de Allende. Our hotel arranged the ride, but when the driver doubled the price on us, we sent him packing — a move we’d later come to regret. 

Upon our arrival, Wally and I were welcomed by trusted artistic assistant Carlos Ramírez Galvan. We met up with another couple and were greeted by a tall bespeckled man with an impressive long white beard, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat. This was Anado’s husband, Richard Schultz, and not unlike a mystical shaman, he was adorned with baubles and charms. Wally thought he looked like the poet Walt Whitman.

Richard leads the tour, which starts at the memorial for his late hubby.

Life’s Rich Tapestry: Anado’s Memorial

We were about 10 minutes late and the tour had already started, so be sure to get there a bit early. 

It started off at Anado’s memorial, which includes a 50-year-old olive tree that he and Richard purchased and planted when Anado was diagnosed with colon cancer. The design and theme was originally proposed for the chapel at the Puerto Vallarta Botanical Garden. However, the garden didn’t have enough money to fund it, Richard told us. 

So, Anado decided to use it as his memorial. The assemblage depicts two Trees of Life and portraits of Anado and Richard in profile. Between them is a blue glass heart and above them are a pair of colibríes (hummingbirds), which are considered sacred to many Mesoamerican cultures. 

A lovely mosaic of the lovebirds

Many of the small pieces of tile used in the construction of the mural come from Dolores Hidalgo. The nearby village is known for the production of brightly colored tin-enameled Talavera tiles — and for Father Miguel Hidalgo, who, on September 16, 1810, rang the church bells from his parish and set the Mexican Independence movement in motion. 

Additional tiles were sourced from Cuernavaca, Morelos. These arrive in ¾-inch squares and need to be cut by hand using a tile nipper, which allows the artists to break off small pieces of the material in a controlled fashion.

To the right of the memorial is a likeness of the Aztec god Xochipilli, (pronounced So-chee-pee-lee). Xochipilli was a benevolent god, a gender-fluid combination of both male and female traits. His name contains the Nahuatl words meaning Flower Prince. He was the god of art — as well as male sex workers. 

Richard pointed out how other indigenous societies like the Lakota Sioux have third-sex individuals who identify as two-spirit and hold sacred roles as teachers, healers and keepers of traditional knowledge among their tribes. Even the Zapotec muxes (mu-shay), who are born male at birth but assume matriarchal roles and female dress, are celebrated in parts of Mexico. 

“Usually, they get stomped out any time religion’s involved, whether it’s Evangelical, Catholic or Muslim,” Richard said. “Being two-spirit doesn’t mean they’re gay, or trans — they’re simply two spirits in one person.”

Anado referred to this as the Arch to Nowhere because at the time there was nothing built beyond it. Now it leads to the gallery (and outhouse).

Anado’s fascination with world religions, especially those honoring the pre-Columbian pantheon, can be found throughout the grounds. There’s a small colorful shrine embellished with pieces of mirror and tile that pays homage to the Virgin of Guadalupe, the venerated patroness of Mexico.

Anado and Richard met the old-fashioned way: in an AOL chat room.

Picking Up the Pieces: Anado’s Fractured Life

Central to the complex is the namesake Jimmy Ray, a mosaic rendering Anado created in honor of his father, with whom he had a troubled relationship. Anado’s given name at birth was James Rayburn McLaughlin III, and his father was James Rayburn McLaughlin Jr. Anado’s father was a doctor and a scoundrel who always had a mistress. He had two sons outside his marriage and died in a plane crash returning from the Caribbean with one of his mistresses. 

“Anado’s mother learned of her husband’s death while watching the local news on TV,” Richard told us. “In life, there was always anger towards his father because the whole family knew what was going on.”

This mosaic is of Anado’s philandering father, the Jimmy Ray the chapel is named for.

One of the reasons Anado named his compound the Chapel of Jimmy Ray (his father’s nickname), was partly as a healing process, to recognize and forgive his dad for being a flawed human being, and to stop internalizing everything his father had done.

Anado was born in Oklahoma City on May 24, 1947. At the age of 20, he was drafted into the Navy during the Vietnam War. As fate would have it, he was stationed in San Francisco. A self-proclaimed product of the Summer of Love, he visited the bohemian Haight-Ashbury neighborhood every chance he could to participate in the crosscurrents of creative expression and social tolerance among the hippies. 

Once Anado got out of the Navy, he returned to Oklahoma City and opened the only head shop in town and was arrested for selling Zap Comix, which local authorities considered to be part of the counterculture movement.

Shortly thereafter, Anado enrolled at the School of Visual Arts in Norman, Oklahoma, where he intended to pursue a career in art. However, he was frustrated by his professors, who told him that his works were “too decorative.”

Screw you, School of Visual Arts in Oklahoma! We think Anado’s work, like this take on a Catrina, is pretty rad.

He left Oklahoma and moved to New York City, where he lived for about 10 years and became a performance artist. Anado made most of his money driving a taxi and was part of the Chelsea Hotel crowd, performing with the likes of Patti Smith and Lou Reed. 

Before meeting Richard, Anado was part of the Rajneeshpuram, the sex-forward cult featured in the documentary Wild, Wild Country.

By the late ’70s, friends were committing suicide and overdosing on drugs. So Anado made the decision to travel to India and join the ashram led by the sex guru Osho Rajneesh. He was rechristened Anand Anado, which means “Blissful Silence” in Sanskrit. Rajneesh relocated to the U.S., founding a controversial community in Oregon, and Anado followed him there.

If you’ve heard about Rajneesh, it’s probably because of the 2018 Netflix documentary Wild, Wild Country. When we asked about this, Richard said Anado wouldn’t watch it because he didn’t share the views of the people who were interviewed from the commune (or, as many would call it, cult). “He felt that they didn’t represent what the everyday person was doing there and that they were part of the problem,” Richard explained.

Anado left the commune and relocated to California. In 1998, he met Richard in an AOL chat room. Richard was a former art history teacher residing in Noe Valley, a neighborhood in San Francisco, and Anado was living in Lagunitas. Suffice to say, sparks flew and Richard eventually became Anado’s husband and muse.

Richard and Anado moved to Mexico and built their colorful home together. Sadly, Anado died of colon cancer in 2021.

A couple of years later, Anado and Richard visited San Miguel for a few days. They returned in 2001 to look for a place to retire and saw a listing in the local newspaper. The property was in poor condition and had been on the market for a while. The price was right: “You have to pay cash when you buy property in Mexico,” Richard explained, “and it was within our budget.”

Anado died of colon cancer in 2021.

The Gallery at the Chapel of Jimmy Ray is itself a work of art.

Memory Box: the Chapel of Jimmy Ray Gallery

Our group followed Richard down a curved staircase flanked with mosaic-covered snakes.

The metaphorical focal point of the property is the Chapel of Jimmy Ray Gallery, a space that showcases an eclectic mix of Anado’s work as well as rotating exhibitions by guest artists who are friends of Anado and Richard. Its exterior features a subversive fountain with an anatomically correct luchador who perpetually “pees” into its basin. 

This fountain outside the gallery is fed by water coming out of the luchador’s bright red penis.

Standing outside of the gallery is quite possibly the most beautiful outhouse ever built. It’s a rounded and thoroughly embellished structure with glass bottles embedded into its terracotta-hued mortar walls, multicolored snake door handles, shiny glass spheres and an Indian chief finial. Anado cheekily referred to it as the Caca Mahal (a play of the Taj Mahal with the Spanish word for poop). It’s a waterless toilet that uses evaporation and decomposition to compost human waste. 

What a throne room! This could very well be the coolest outhouse ever.

We caught the tail end of a show that featured the works of three female artists: Meryl Truett, Ann Chamberlin and Leigh Hyams. We ended up purchasing a piece by Chamberlin of a group of dazed-looking men hiding out in trees called Men in the Fresh Air. Her expressive works are inspired by traditional hand-painted devotional images known as retablos. 

We especially loved the work of Ann Chamberlin, including We Are Angry 2022, featuring multiple women with blunt bob haircuts, wearing sleeveless canary yellow dresses — and all wielding machetes!

A cool side room has a shrine of sorts to Anado

One of Anado’s works is a monumental skull covered in mosaic tiles and cobalt blue bottles titled Time Is Not the Enemy — note the clocks placed in the eye sockets.

On either side of the gallery space are a pair of Día de los Muertos sculptures, a giant bejeweled calaca (skull) and a take on a Catrina. 

A secondary outbuilding, named Casa Kali, showcases some of Anado’s early works, as well as those of his assistant, Carlos.

Destiny Calling: Casa Kali and Coltrane

The first outbuilding Anado and Richard added to the grounds was dubbed Casa Kali and was built as an office. It now holds many of Anado’s early sculptural creations as well as those of his assistant Carlos. 

A gnarled creation by Carlos was one of our favorites and was adorned with a multicolored headscarf and cowrie shell necklaces and held a menacingly large scythe.

This giant, grumpy-looking wood sculpture was made by Carlos’ kids. They named him Coltrane.

As we wandered toward the main house, we passed a monumental effigy head nicknamed Coltrane. It was made from twigs and branches by Carlos’ kids one summer. Wally asked if he was constantly being added to, and without missing a beat, Richard replied, “Or being put back together.”  

One section honors the couple’s kitties who have gone on the Great Litterbox in the Sky. Another mosaic honors their dead doggies.

Good Fortune: Tarot and Other Murals of Kismet Street

An outer wall is covered by an elaborate large-scale mosaic installation called Kismet Street. The name came from a vivid dream Anado had while living in the East Village in the ’70s and features a series of vignettes that took years to complete. 

The politically charged Big Hands features two outward-facing palms. The left hand with blue eye and brick wall represents the United States, while the right-facing green hand with brown eye represents Mexico. The inspiration for the piece was a quote attributed to the Mexican President Porfifro Díaz: “So far from God, so close to the U.S.”

One half of Big Hands, with skulls and a nod to a brick wall to symbolize the United States.

We stopped to smile over yet another unusual aspect of the wall. “We were given a Tyrannosaurus Rex head,” Richard said. “Anado combined it with a platter and turned it into Quetzalcoatl, the plumed serpent.” 

Only Anado could take a T. rex head and platter and turn it into the snake god Quetzalcoatl.

A recurring theme that can be seen throughout the estate in Anado’s art is snakes. Richard explained that snakes are sacred animals to many indigenous cultures around the world, from Asia and the Americas. They’re close to the earth and are often associated with wisdom, healing and knowledge. The Judeo-Christian tradition, of course, had to demonize them (think of the serpent in the Garden of Eden).

Xoloitzcuintli dogs are said to shepherd the souls of the dead, which could explain why Anado chose one for the mural honoring his deceased friend David Wojnarowicz.

Another mural on Kismet Street is of a hairless Xoloitzcuintli dog, and was made by Anado in memory of his former roommate, David Wojnarowicz. David was an activist and mixed-media artist in New York, who died from AIDS-related complications in 1992. Early in his career, he was part of the street art culture and created Mayan dog graffiti around the East Village where he lived. In Mesoamerican religious lore, the Xoloitzcuintli leads the soul through the underworld to its final resting spot.

Other murals were inspired by tarot cards, which Anado read. The Emperor and the Empress have no clothes and were made, in part, from cut beer and wine bottles. The Emperor has a beer bottle penis, which has broken off more than a few times by the couple’s dogs’ excitedly wagging tails. 

A section of the wall features mosaics inspired by the tarot. This one is the Empress, a card depicting maternal influence.

The Lovers features a trio of entangled snakes, which represent the invisible holy energy yogis believe resides at the base of our spines. In tarot, the card depicts the choices we make in life and love, and the consequences of such choices. 

Snakes are a recurring theme in Anado’s mosaics, including this one, inspired by the Lovers card in the tarot deck.

The Hanged Man depicts a young Anado hanging around in New York City in the ’70s. 

“Respectame,” says Anado’s mother in the last mosaic on Kismet Street — a healing work of art that was his favorite of the bunch.

The Fool honors Anado’s beloved mother. She’s looking down at her husband and saying, “Respectame” (Respect me). It was Anado’s favorite piece, Richard told us. He liked the idea of his mom standing up, as she never did during her life. In tarot, this card starts the deck and represents the beginning of a journey.

Two pet memorial walls (one for cats and the other for dogs) are dedicated to Anado and Richard’s beloved companions over the years. They were designed by Anado and completed over a period of two years by Mosaics in Mexico, a mosaic mural-making workshop led by artists Julie Richey and Ana Foncerrada. 

The second part of the tour offers a glimpse inside Anado and Richard’s home.

Casa de las Ranas: Anado and Richard’s Fairy Tale Home

Our tour ended at Casa de las Ranas (Frog House). While renovating their home, which was in a ruined state when he and Richard purchased it, Anado referred to it as a tadpole that they transformed into a handsome prince, earning the residence its name. I found it especially fitting, as the well-known Mexican muralist Diego Rivera aka el Sapo-Rana (Toad-Frog) was born in the nearby capital city of Guanajuato. 

The dining room at la Casa de las Ranas

The house itself isn’t that big — but there sure is a lot going on inside!

The Rosewood gang couldn’t resist getting a photo taken in the kooky casa.

The kitchen at Richard and Anado’s home

Like the rest of the compound, the mosaic images covering the walls were created from pieces of mirror, tile, ceramics, and salvaged and recycled materials. Everywhere we looked there was something fantastic to be discovered. 

The workshop offers a glimpse into the method of Anado’s madness.

Anado had plenty of materials to work with — everywhere you look there are quirky items.

Various artistic inspirations, including Trump’s micropenis

Religious iconography in Anado’s garage workshop

The tour ends in the garage workshop, filled with containers of paint, folk art, necklaces, and odds and ends. Wally bought a bracelet of mismatched beads to remember our time here. 

The Chapel of Jimmy Ray is a journey to an artsy, whimsical world. You’ll feel a bit like Alice in Wonderland.

Final Tips for Visiting the Chapel of Jimmy Ray

1. Make an appointment — through your hotel.

Because the Chapel of Jimmy Ray is Richard’s home and a museum of sorts showcasing Anado’s work, visits are by appointment only. We had emailed Richard weeks before to make a reservation but never heard back. Luckily, the concierge at our hotel in San Miguel was able to connect with him and secure us a spot.

Maybe the trick is to get Richard on the phone. Try giving him a call at +52-415-155-8044.

2. Arrange transportation so you don’t get stranded.

As mentioned, we were upset with being overcharged for our ride out there, and made the mistake of dismissing our driver after he dropped us off. As a result, we found ourselves stranded after the tour. When we tried to connect with a taxi service or Uber, the wifi and cell service was too spotty. Fortunately, the kind-hearted Richard took pity on us and asked Carlos to take us to our destination, the natural hot springs of La Gruta. 

The best option might be to have a driver stay there, so you’re ready to head back after the tour.

3. Be sure to get there on time, if not early.

Our driver showed up late, and by the time we got into the Chapel of Jimmy Ray complex, it was 10 minutes past the appointed time, and Richard had started the tour. As such, we missed some of the background about Anado and the property.

4. After the tour, visit La Gruta Spa and the Sanctuary of Atotonilco.

While you’re in the area, stop by La Gruta, where you can soak in hot springs grottos with locals. And then head down the street to the Sanctuary of Atotonilco, a UNESCO World Heritage Site known for its amazing murals from the 1700s. –Duke

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Chapel of Jimmy Ray and la Casa de las Ranas

Temazcal 3
37893 La Cieneguita
Guanajuato
Mexico