Discover the MythCloud

"Spotkanie z Warszawą" ("Meeting with Warsaw") represents contemporary Polish musician Monika Brodka's reinterpretation of a 1964 song originally performed by Irena Santor, a leading figure in Polish popular music of the post-war era. This musical reimagining, featured on Brodka's 2021 album BRUT, demonstrates how cultural narratives evolve through artistic reinterpretation across generations.

Brodka's adaptation maintains a connection to the original composition's melodic structure while transforming it through contemporary alternative sensibilities. The accompanying black-and-white video, which Brodka directed herself, features the artist in the symbolic role of the Warsaw Mermaid (Syrenka Warszawska)—the emblematic figure that has represented Poland's capital since at least the 14th century and appears on the city's coat of arms.

Through this visual narrative, Brodka recounts Warsaw's tumultuous history, particularly focusing on the city's resilience and rebuilding after the devastation of World War II, when approximately 85% of the city was destroyed. This historical reference connects contemporary audiences with the collective memory of trauma and renewal that has shaped Warsaw's urban identity.

By embodying the mermaid figure, Brodka places herself within a lineage of cultural symbols that have helped define Warsaw's character through centuries of political upheaval. Her modern reinterpretation demonstrates how mythological figures can be reinvented to speak to contemporary concerns while maintaining their connection to historical narratives.

This project reflects the fluid nature of cultural mythology in contemporary artistic practice, showing how traditional symbols and narratives can be reimagined to create dialogue between past and present, continuity and innovation, in the ongoing construction of urban and national identities.

This woodblock from 1565, crafted by designer Geoffroy Ballain and woodcutter Jean de Gourmont, represents a fascinating intersection of mythology, early scientific inquiry, and Renaissance print culture. Now preserved in the Museum Plantin-Moretus in Antwerp, Belgium—a UNESCO World Heritage site that houses the world's oldest printing presses—this block depicts the Scytale, classified as a subspecies of the mythical serpent Amphisbaena.

The Amphisbaena appears in ancient sources including Pliny's Natural History and Lucan's Pharsalia, described as a serpent with heads at both ends, allowing it to move in either direction without turning. The Scytale represents a variation on this mythological creature, its dual-headed nature symbolising ambiguity and the ability to transcend conventional limitations.

This woodblock was used to illustrate Jacques Grévin's works on poisons, Deux livres des venins (1568) and De venenis libri duo (1571), demonstrating how mythological creatures were integrated into early scientific and medical texts. This integration reflects the Renaissance period's transitional understanding of the natural world, where empirical observation increasingly challenged but had not yet displaced mythological explanations inherited from classical authorities.

The block's artistic execution exemplifies the sophisticated woodcut technique developed in 16th-century Europe, with fine line work capturing detailed anatomical features that blend observational elements with fantastic attributes. This approach typifies Renaissance natural history illustration, which sought to categorise and represent both real and legendary creatures with similar visual language.

Acquired by the Plantin-Moretus Museum in 1876, the block represents a fascinating artifact of 16th-century print culture and intellectual history, illuminating how mythological creatures were documented and disseminated during a period of rapidly evolving understanding of the natural world.

Féile na Bealtaine, established in 1994 by Dr. Micheál Fanning on the Dingle Peninsula, exemplifies how contemporary cultural festivals reinterpret traditional seasonal celebrations to address modern community needs. Named after the ancient Celtic festival marking the beginning of summer, this annual event demonstrates how pre-Christian ritual frameworks continue to provide meaningful structures for community gathering and cultural expression in secular contexts.

The festival's emphasis on bilingualism and diverse artistic expression creates a sophisticated synthesis of tradition and innovation. By showcasing a wide range of art forms while remaining rooted in rural community life, Féile na Bealtaine exemplifies how effective contemporary cultural practices balance connection to heritage with responsiveness to changing artistic and social conditions. This balance enables the festival to function simultaneously as preservation of cultural tradition and as platform for artistic experimentation and development.

Particularly significant is the festival's function as "artistic home" for local performers and platform for collaboration. This aspect reflects the traditional role of seasonal gatherings as opportunities for community members to share creative expression while developing connections across social boundaries. The emphasis on creativity as "community medicine" articulates an understanding of artistic expression as essential component of social and psychological wellbeing rather than mere entertainment or luxury.

The festival's annual cycle—six months of preparation followed by six months of rest—consciously echoes the seasonal rhythms that structured traditional agricultural societies. This deliberate alignment with natural cycles creates temporal continuity between contemporary cultural practice and traditional observances, demonstrating how ancient patterns of marking time continue to provide meaningful frameworks for modern community life. The festival thus exemplifies how traditional mythological frameworks evolve through creative reinterpretation, maintaining connection to historical patterns while addressing contemporary circumstances and needs.

Seven Ages: The Story of the Irish Stateis a landmark documentary series produced in 2000 by Araby Productions for RTÉ and BBC Northern Ireland. Directed by Seán Ó Mórdha, this influential seven-part series chronicles Ireland's evolution since its founding in 1921 through key political, social, and cultural moments in history.

The series offers a comprehensive exploration of how Ireland, as a new nation-state, evolved a collective identity over its first seven decades. The shared national narrative, initially framed by founding leaders, evolved through a dynamic interplay of internal and external socio-economic-cultural forces. It reveals the complex process through which societies construct and sustain their sense of collective self

Episode 2 analyses how Éamon de Valera's Fianna Fáil fundamentally reshaped Ireland's political landscape by skilfully harnessing cultural mythology as a political tool. The party's deliberate promotion of traditional Irish values was a sophisticated exercise in narrative construction, connecting contemporary political aims with selective interpretations of cultural heritage to reinforce a cohesive national story.

Seán Ó Mórdha's series illuminates the complex relationship between political power and cultural narrative, demonstrating how emerging nations often look backward to move forward. The series shows how de Valera's Ireland exemplifies a universal pattern in which new political orders establish legitimacy by positioning themselves as natural inheritors of an idealised past.

Each episode reveals critical moments where Ireland's self-conception was challenged, negotiated, and reformulated, highlighting the essential role of storytelling in political legitimation. The documentary features insights from key political figures including former Presidents and Taoisigh who themselves participated in the evolution of Ireland's national narrative.

By examining the interplay between political pragmatism and cultural symbolism, the series offers profound insights into how national identities are deliberately crafted to serve contemporary needs. First broadcast in 2000, Seven Ages continues to provide valuable perspective on how societies create coherent narratives from complex and often contradictory histories, showing that the mythologies that bind us together are as much inventions as discoveries.

The Toporzeł —a controversial emblem created by Polish sculptor and painter Stanisław Wyspiański in 1935—exemplifies how nationalist movements often generate new mythological symbols that blend historical references with contemporary political aspirations. By fusing the imagery of an axe (topór) and an eagle (orzeł), Szukalski created a symbol intended to replace the traditional White Eagle, positioning it as an emblem of national rebirth that would connect modern Polish identity to its perceived Slavic roots.

The symbol's creation reflects the interwar period's intense search for authentic national identity following Poland's reemergence as an independent state after extended foreign domination. Szukalski's vision of a revitalised Polish culture drew on nationalist interpretations of prehistory and mythology to construct a narrative of Polish exceptionalism and cultural continuity despite historical disruptions. This approach exemplifies how nationalist movements selectively reinterpret historical and mythological elements to create compelling narratives of national destiny.

The Toporzeł 's subsequent appropriation during the German occupation of Warsaw reveals the darker potential of nationalist symbolism. Its use by some Polish anti-Semites to mark Christian-owned shops, promoting economic boycotts against Jewish businesses, demonstrates how cultural symbols can be redeployed in ways their creators never intended. This repurposing exemplifies how mythological frameworks, once established, can evolve beyond their creators' control, acquiring new meanings through changing historical contexts.

This emblem's complex legacy illustrates the ambiguous nature of nationalist mythology—simultaneously expressing legitimate aspirations for cultural self-determination while potentially facilitating exclusionary and harmful political agendas. The tension between these possibilities exists within many nationalist symbolic systems, which typically combine elements of cultural celebration and boundary-drawing that define both who belongs within the national community and who is excluded from it. The Toporzeł thus stands as a powerful example of how modern political movements continue to generate new mythological frameworks to address contemporary concerns about collective identity and purpose.

Peter Paul Rubens' Bacchus, Satyr and a Faun represents a sophisticated engagement with classical mythology during the Baroque period, revealing how ancient narratives were continuously reinterpreted to address contemporary aesthetic and philosophical concerns. The work demonstrates the persistence of mythological thinking even in ostensibly Christian European societies, where pagan figures continued to serve as powerful vehicles for exploring aspects of human experience.

Bacchus, the Roman god of wine and ecstasy, functions in this work as a symbol of sensual liberation and the dissolution of ordinary boundaries—themes that resonated with Baroque sensibilities despite their pagan origins. Rubens' portrayal of Bacchus supported by mythological companions creates a visual narrative of divine intoxication that operates simultaneously as religious allegory, classical reference, and exploration of human desire.

The supporting figures—a satyr and faun—embody the liminal space between human and animal, civilisation and wilderness, that characterises much mythological thinking. Their hybrid nature serves as a visual representation of the boundaries that Bacchic worship was understood to dissolve, suggesting the transformation of consciousness that accompanies religious ecstasy or intoxication.

Rubens' engagement with this mythological subject matter reflects the complex relationship between Christianity and classical tradition in European intellectual history. Rather than rejecting pagan narratives, artists and thinkers incorporated them into a syncretic cultural framework where they could explore themes that might otherwise be difficult to address directly within Christian orthodoxy. This work thus exemplifies how mythological figures and narratives persist by adapting to new cultural contexts while maintaining their essential symbolic power.

Philemon and Baucis, Accompanied by Zeus and Hermes, Inventory No. 11001, by Peter Paul Rubens is a masterwork housed at the Royal Museum of Fine Arts in Antwerp.

The piece depicts the mythological tale of Philemon and Baucis, an elderly couple renowned for their hospitality toward Zeus and Hermes, who visited their humble home disguised as travellers. This story, drawn from Ovid's Metamorphoses, exemplifies the virtue of hospitality and the sacred relationship between mortals and gods.

In the myth, the gods reward the couple's generosity by transforming them into intertwined trees, allowing them to remain together for eternity—a metaphor for enduring love and the divine recognition of human virtue. Rubens captures this pivotal moment, illustrating how mythological narratives offer moral frameworks that transcend time and culture.

The Eurovision Song Contest, established in 1956, has cultivated a unique cultural position over its six-decade history. Celebrated for its vibrant display of musical talent, cultural exchange and kitsch reworkings of national mythologies, the contest serves as a platform for creative expression that transcends national boundaries while paradoxically reinforcing them.

Johnny Logan, affectionately dubbed "Mr. Eurovision," stands as a pivotal figure within this narrative. His unprecedented achievements—winning twice as a performer (1980 with "What's Another Year" and 1987 with "Hold Me Now") and once as a songwriter (1992's "Why Me?" performed by Linda Martin)—have secured his iconic status in Eurovision history. His victories highlight his cross-national continental appeal, particularly in countries with strong Eurovision traditions like Sweden and Germany.

Despite Logan's international acclaim, the contrast between his reception abroad and at home in Ireland is striking. While celebrated across Europe for his contributions to the contest, his success has often received more muted recognition in Ireland. This discrepancy reflects broader cultural tensions regarding Eurovision itself, which has sometimes been viewed through a lens of kitsch in Ireland, especially as the national music scene evolved it's own rock and folk genres in the 1980s and 1990s.

Logan's legacy demonstrates how cultural figures can become emblematic of transnational shared experiences while simultaneously occupying complex positions within their national contexts. His story illustrates the intricate interplay between national identity, musical expression, and the mythologies that shape our understanding of cultural phenomena in an increasingly connected Europe.

Talos is an artistic research initiative led by Israeli choreographer Arkadi Zaides that explores the intersection of mythology, technology, and border politics. The project takes its name and conceptual framework from a European Union-funded research program developing mobile robots designed to secure Europe's borders, which itself drew its name from the mythological bronze giant from Greek mythology.

In Greek myth, Talos was a bronze automaton created by the divine craftsman Hephaestus to protect the island of Crete and, by extension, Europa (for whom Europe is named) from invaders. This ancient tale of a mechanical guardian patrolling boundaries resonates provocatively with contemporary debates about migration, sovereignty, and technological surveillance.

Zaides' two-year research project uses this mythological narrative as a foundation for exploring contemporary themes in performance, theatre, and dance. The initiative focuses particularly on the concepts of pre-enactment and speculation—artistic strategies that imagine and physically rehearse potential futures rather than representing past events.

Through this framework, Zaides and his collaborators investigate the implications of increasingly technologised approaches to security and borders. The project raises critical questions about how physical and ideological protection of territories can be represented and reimagined through performance, creating space for reflection on the ethical and political dimensions of border control technologies.

By connecting ancient mythology with cutting-edge surveillance technology and artistic practice, Talos demonstrates how mythological narratives continue to provide powerful conceptual tools for understanding and critiquing contemporary social and political developments.

The Lithuanian goddess Giltinė exemplifies how traditional societies personified abstract concepts like death through mythological figures with distinctive visual and narrative characteristics. Her name's etymological connection to words meaning "to sting" and "thorn" demonstrates how linguistic associations shaped mythological personification, creating coherent symbolic systems that connected abstract concepts to tangible physical experiences.

Giltinė's distinctive appearance—elderly, blue-faced, with a long nose and poisonous tongue—created vivid visual representation of death's fearsome aspects. This visualisation exemplifies how mythological thinking made abstract phenomena comprehensible through concrete imagery, translating invisible processes into recognisable forms that could be conceptually managed if not physically controlled. The specificity of her attributes demonstrates how mythological figures were not vague entities but precisely articulated symbolic constructs.

Her transformation narrative—from youthful beauty to ghastly form after seven years in a coffin—provides explanatory framework for understanding death's inevitability and irreversibility. As sister to Laima, goddess of life's beginnings, Giltinė represents the complementary force that completes life's cycle, demonstrating how mythological systems created coherent cosmic order by establishing balanced relationships between opposing forces.

Stories of mortals attempting to outwit Giltinė reflect universal human desire to postpone death while acknowledging its ultimate inevitability. The Christian influence that later introduced the scythe to her iconography exemplifies how mythological figures evolve through cultural contact, incorporating new elements while maintaining core symbolic functions. Giltinė thus demonstrates how mythological personifications create meaningful frameworks for understanding mortality, evolving through changing historical circumstances while addressing enduring human concerns about life's inevitable end.

This Lithuanian sakmė, or etiological folk tale, offers a mythological explanation for lightning strikes, demonstrating how pre-scientific cultures interpreted natural phenomena through narrative frameworks that reinforced moral and social values.

According to the tale, the origin of lightning can be traced to an ancient conflict between Perkūnas, the powerful thunder god in Baltic mythology, and the devil. The narrative begins with the devil borrowing money from Perkūnas but then refusing repayment and mocking the god, triggering Perkūnas' rage. This initial transgression—breaking a promise and disrespecting a divinity—establishes the moral foundation of the story.

The lightning that flashes across the sky represents Perkūnas' continuing pursuit of the devil, who attempts to hide in various places: on farms, inside animals, or within people's clothing. When lightning strikes a tree, sets fire to a house, or kills a person or animal, it is explained as the devil hiding there, making these locations the inadvertent targets of Perkūnas' wrath.

This narrative demonstrates how mythological explanations often served multiple functions in traditional societies. Beyond explaining the natural phenomenon of lightning, the tale reinforces social values regarding debt repayment and respect for authority. It also provides practical guidance by warning people about potentially dangerous locations during thunderstorms.

The story's structure, with the devil constantly fleeing and Perkūnas relentlessly pursuing, creates a compelling explanation for lightning's unpredictable and repeated nature. This cyclical, unresolved conflict explains why lightning continues to occur rather than being a one-time event.

Compiled and edited by folklorist Norbertas Vėlius in How the Earth Came to Be: Lithuanian Etiological Legends, this tale exemplifies how mythology provided frameworks for understanding natural phenomena while reinforcing cultural values and practical knowledge.

Seven Ages: The Story of the Irish Stateis a landmark documentary series produced in 2000 by Araby Productions for RTÉ and BBC Northern Ireland. Directed by Seán Ó Mórdha, this influential seven-part series chronicles Ireland's evolution since its founding in 1921 through key political, social, and cultural moments in history.

The series offers a comprehensive exploration of how Ireland, as a new nation-state, evolved a collective identity over its first seven decades. The shared national narrative, initially framed by founding leaders, evolved through a dynamic interplay of internal and external socio-economic-cultural forces. It reveals the complex process through which societies construct and sustain their sense of collective self

Episode 5 analyses how Ireland's cultural opening in the 1960s represents a fascinating case study in the evolution of national mythologies. The emergence of a new narrative centred on progress and modernity reveals the dynamic nature of collective storytelling, showing how societies periodically reformulate their foundational myths to accommodate changing social conditions and aspirations.

Seán Ó Mórdha's documentary series presents this period as a pivotal moment where Ireland began consciously revising its self-conception, illustrating how national identities are not fixed but continuously negotiated. The series demonstrates that such cultural shifts are rarely complete ruptures with the past but rather reinterpretations that incorporate new elements while maintaining narrative continuity with established traditions.

Each episode examines crucial developments in Ireland's evolution, revealing how national mythologies serve both as reflections of social change and as frameworks that shape how those changes are understood and integrated. The documentary features perspectives from influential figures in Irish politics and culture, offering insights into how those at the centre of transformative periods perceive and articulate emerging narratives.

By analysing the interplay between tradition and innovation in national storytelling, the series provides a nuanced understanding of how societies manage cultural transitions. First broadcast in 2000, Seven Ages remains a valuable resource for understanding how national identities evolve through an ongoing dialectic between established narratives and emerging social realities, demonstrating that the stories nations tell about themselves are always works in progress.

Kneecap represents a fascinating intervention in the performative dimensions of Irish national identity. This Belfast-based rap trio operates at the intersection of linguistic revitalisation, post-conflict cultural production, and subcultural expression, embodying a provocative reimagining of Irish vernacular practice.

Their linguistic strategy—deploying Irish as a dynamic, living language of urban experience—challenges traditional modes of cultural preservation whilst creating new forms of collective identity. By transforming nationalist narratives through hip-hop's transgressive idiom, Kneecap enacts a cultural translation that destabilises conventional frameworks of political and linguistic belonging.

Their recent film and album further elaborate this critical project through a multimedia exploration of identity that refuses calcified representations. Instead, they perform a nimble, irreverent negotiation of contemporary Irish subjectivity, demonstrating how shared narratives can both preserve tradition and radically reimagine it for new generations.

This collection of folk stories from Flanders and Brabant represents a significant preservation of oral traditions at a time when such cultural expressions were increasingly threatened by modernisation. Featuring tales like Simple John and The Boy Who Always Said the Wrong Thing, the collection offers valuable insights into the moral frameworks and imaginative patterns that shaped traditional Flemish culture.

The collection's emphasis on "simple, sometimes primitive characters" reflects the didactic function of folk narratives across cultures. By presenting protagonists who initially lack wisdom or sophistication but navigate challenging situations, these tales provide accessible models for moral development and practical problem-solving. Their "whimsical adventures" create engaging narrative frameworks for exploring the consequences of various choices and behaviours.

The comparison to nursery rhymes in other cultures acknowledges the multilayered functionality of folk narratives, which simultaneously entertain, instruct, and transmit cultural values. This combination of purposes distinguishes traditional storytelling from more specialised modern narrative forms, reflecting pre-modern integration of education, entertainment, and moral instruction rather than their separation into distinct domains.

The translation of these tales into English by M.C.O. Morris represents a significant cultural transition, transforming localised oral traditions into internationally accessible literary artefacts. This process, paralleled across Europe during the 19th and early 20th centuries, fundamentally altered how folk narratives functioned—preserving them while simultaneously changing their context and meaning. The illustrations by Jean de Bosschère further adapt these oral traditions to visual form, creating a multisensory experience that differs from traditional storytelling while making the narratives accessible to new audiences.

Marc McMenamin's report on the unexpected connection between Bram Stoker and Mary Shelley—whose maternal grandmothers are buried in the same church in Ballyshannon, County Donegal—offers fascinating insight into how local history and folklore influenced the development of two defining works of Gothic literature. This geographical coincidence invites deeper consideration of how specific landscapes and local traditions inform even the most universally resonant literary creations.

The report's exploration of how real historical events—particularly the cholera epidemic of 1832—shaped these fictional narratives demonstrates the complex relationship between historical trauma and literary mythology. By incorporating elements from actual catastrophes into their supernatural narratives, both authors created frameworks for processing collective fears and anxieties through displaced fictional contexts. This transformation of historical experience into mythological narrative exemplifies how Gothic literature often addresses real social concerns through symbolic displacement.

The persistence of themes concerning plagues, death, and the undead in local folklore reflects how oral traditions preserved collective memory of historical traumas while providing frameworks for understanding them. These folkloric elements provided crucial material for both Stoker and Shelley, demonstrating how literary innovations often draw on traditional narrative patterns rather than emerging ex nihilo. This connection highlights the essential role of cultural context in shaping even the most seemingly unique artistic visions.

The contributions from Professor Jarlath Killeen of Trinity College Dublin and local historian Brian Drummond exemplify contemporary scholarly approaches to understanding the relationship between folklore, history, and literary creation. By examining how local traditions influenced works that would eventually reshape global popular culture, this report illuminates the continuous feedback between local specificity and universal themes that characterises the evolution of cultural mythology. The enduring global influence of Dracula and Frankenstein demonstrates how works deeply rooted in specific cultural contexts can transcend their origins to address universal human concerns across diverse cultural boundaries.

The Lithuanian tale explaining why the Moon has spots provides a fascinating example of a sakmė, a type of folk narrative used to explain natural phenomena through mythological frameworks. This particular story belongs to the category of Lithuanian etiological legends, which address the origins of the world and its features.

According to the tale, the spots on the Moon represent a girl carrying water, who was once an orphan mistreated by her stepmother, a witch. Subjected to endless tasks, including fetching water, the girl ultimately became the victim of her stepmother's rage and was cursed and sent to the Moon. There, she was condemned to carry a yoke and buckets eternally, her silhouette forming the dark spots visible on the lunar surface.

This narrative exemplifies how celestial observations were integrated into cultural explanations before scientific understanding was widespread. The Moon's distinctive markings, visible to all, invited storytelling that connected cosmic phenomena with human experiences of hardship, cruelty, and injustice.

The tale incorporates common motifs found in folk narratives across cultures: the mistreated orphan, the wicked stepmother, and supernatural punishment. However, its specific attachment to lunar features gives it a distinctly Lithuanian character, reflecting how universal storytelling patterns adapt to local contexts and natural observations.

Compiled and edited by Norbertas Vėlius, a prominent Lithuanian folklorist, in How the Earth Came to Be: Lithuanian Etiological Legends (Kaip atsirado žemė: lietuvių etiologinės sakmės), this tale demonstrates how mythological explanations serve not only to account for natural phenomena but also to articulate moral lessons about human relationships and behaviour.

Bluiríní Béaloidis is a podcast from the National Folklore Collection at University College Dublin. It explores the rich landscape of Irish and European folk traditions. Each episode journeys through diverse cultural narratives, revealing how understanding our traditional heritage can illuminate our present and guide our future. By uncovering the stories, beliefs, and practices embedded in folklore, the podcast invites listeners to discover the depth and complexity of our shared cultural inheritance.

The Banshee
This episode of Blúiríní Béaloidis explores the Banshee, a figure whose evolution from patron goddess to harbinger of death illuminates the complex processes through which mythological entities adapt to changing cultural contexts. With Professor Patricia Lysaght, the world's leading authority on the subject, host Jonny Dillon examines how this quintessentially Irish supernatural figure has maintained cultural relevance across centuries of social and religious transformation.

The Banshee's transformation from divine patron to death messenger represents a classic example of how pre-Christian mythological figures were reconfigured rather than eliminated under Christian influence. Neither fully demonised nor completely sanitised, the Banshee occupies an ambiguous position in Irish folklore—supernatural yet familiar, frightening yet expected, associated with death yet paradoxically offering a form of continuity through her connection to specific families across generations.

Particularly significant is the Banshee's role in mediating the experience of mortality. By providing advance warning of death, she transforms what might otherwise be a sudden, incomprehensible event into part of an established pattern with recognisable signs and rituals. This function exemplifies how mythological figures often serve to make sense of life's most challenging experiences, providing cultural frameworks for processing universal human concerns.

The persistence of Banshee traditions into modern times demonstrates the remarkable durability of folkloric concepts even in rapidly changing societies. By examining the evolution of this figure through archival audio excerpts and scholarly analysis, this episode offers valuable insights into how traditional mythological elements continue to resonate in contemporary culture, adapting to new contexts while maintaining essential symbolic functions that address enduring human needs.

The Royal Museum of Fine Arts in Antwerp (KMSKA), a major cultural institution in Belgium, houses the ink drawing Youth Orpheus, Inventory No. 2711/40, by James Ensor (1860-1949), one of Belgium's most innovative and influential modern artists.

This drawing depicts Orpheus, the legendary musician and poet from Greek mythology whose enchanting music could charm all living things, even inanimate objects. The Orpheus myth has been a recurring subject in Western art for centuries, symbolising the transcendent power of music and poetry and the artist's unique ability to bridge the mundane and divine realms.

By focusing specifically on the youth of Orpheus, Ensor's work likely depicts the legendary figure before his famous descent to the underworld to retrieve his beloved Eurydice—capturing a period of innocence and potential before tragedy. This approach allows for an exploration of artistic identity and the formative development of creative power.

Ensor's interpretation would reflect his distinctive artistic vision, which often blended traditional subjects with expressionistic and sometimes surreal elements. Known for his phantasmagorical style and psychological intensity, Ensor frequently used traditional or mythological subjects as vehicles for exploring modern existential concerns and his personal artistic philosophy.

The medium of ink drawing, with its emphasis on line and contrast, would have provided Ensor with opportunities for both delicate detail and bold expression, allowing him to render this classical subject with his characteristic combination of technical skill and emotional intensity.

This work represents an important example of how mythological themes continued to inspire artistic innovation throughout the modernist period, with classical figures like Orpheus serving as enduring symbols for exploring the nature of art and the artist's role in society.

Irish football supporters have gained international recognition for their distinctive approach to fandom, characterised by a unique combination of joy, resilience, and camaraderie that frequently transcends match outcomes. Affectionately known as "The Green Army," these supporters have developed a reputation that extends beyond typical sports fandom to become a significant element of contemporary Irish cultural identity.

Renowned for their ability to transform moments of defeat into scenes of shared humour and positivity, Irish fans are widely regarded as goodwill ambassadors who regularly cheer for opponents, sing in the streets, and transform football matches into communal celebrations. This behaviour reflects deeper cultural values emphasising hospitality, good humour, and the prioritisation of collective experience over competitive outcomes.

This reputation was solidified during international tournaments such as Italia 90, USA 94, Japan/Korea 2002, and Euro 2016, where the supporters' warmth and good humour garnered global media attention and admiration. In particular, the 1990 World Cup in Italy represented a watershed moment, coinciding with Ireland's economic modernisation and increased European integration, when Irish supporters created a positive, outward-looking image of the nation on an international stage.

The enduring perception of Irish fans as loyal and optimistic supporters who celebrate each match as a communal experience rather than merely a sporting contest has become a modern mythology that projects a distinctive national identity. This identity emphasises resilience, good humour, and communal solidarity—values that resonate well beyond the sporting context.

Through songs, rituals, and shared experiences, The Green Army has created a form of participatory cultural narrative that allows individuals to connect with collective national identity while simultaneously presenting this identity to the wider world. This phenomenon demonstrates how sporting events can function as platforms for the creation and dissemination of contemporary national mythologies.

The "chocholi taniec" (dance of the straw wrap) from Stanisław Wyspiański's 1901 drama The Wedding offers a powerful example of how artistic symbols can evolve into national mythology. This striking image of wedding guests dancing under the influence of the straw wrap has transcended its original context to become a potent metaphor for societal lethargy and impotence in Polish cultural consciousness.

The dance's evolution from theatrical element to national symbol demonstrates how aesthetic creations can acquire mythological significance when they effectively capture collective psychological states. By embodying the concept of "marasm"—a deepening drowsiness and national stagnation—the chocholi taniec provided Polish society with a visual language for understanding its own historical predicament at the turn of the 20th century.

Particularly significant is the symbol's ambiguity, which has allowed it to maintain relevance through changing historical circumstances. The image of a society caught in hypnotic, purposeless movement serves as a flexible metaphor that can be applied to various instances of collective inaction or misdirected energy. This adaptability explains why the symbol has retained its power well beyond its original historical context.

The persistence of this theatrical image in Polish cultural memory exemplifies how modern artistic creations can attain mythological status when they effectively address collective psychological concerns. Like traditional mythological symbols, the chocholi taniec provides a framework for understanding complex social and psychological phenomena that might otherwise resist articulation. Its enduring presence in Polish cultural discourse demonstrates how societies continue to create and sustain mythological thinking through literary and theatrical forms, adapting traditional patterns to address contemporary circumstances.

The woodcut Minerva and Mercurio (Inventory No. 10558) at the Royal Museum of Fine Arts Antwerp (KMSKA) represents a printer's mark associated with Jan van Meurs, a significant figure in Antwerp's printing industry during the early modern period when the city was one of Europe's most important publishing centres.

This printer's mark features two classical deities: Minerva, the Roman goddess of wisdom, crafts, and strategic warfare (equivalent to the Greek Athena), appears on the left, while Mercury, messenger of the gods and patron of commerce, communication, and eloquence (Greek Hermes), is depicted on the right. The choice of these particular deities for a printer's mark is significant, as they represent the intellectual and commercial aspects of the printing trade during the Renaissance and Baroque periods.

The woodcut is attributed to Peter Paul Rubens (1577-1640), the foremost Flemish Baroque painter whose influence extended beyond painting to design work for various media, including book illustrations and prints. Rubens frequently incorporated classical references in his work, reflecting the humanist education and values prevalent among cultural elites of the period.

Printer's marks functioned similarly to modern logos, identifying the origin of books and establishing brand recognition in the early modern book trade. The use of mythological figures in these marks reflects the Renaissance interest in classical antiquity and demonstrates how printers positioned themselves as disseminators of learning and culture, not merely commercial producers.

This particular woodcut exemplifies the intersection of commercial practice, artistic craftsmanship, and classical learning that characterised elite print culture in 17th-century Antwerp, offering insight into how mythology permeated even the practical aspects of knowledge production and dissemination.

Bluiríní Béaloidis is a podcast from the National Folklore Collection at University College Dublin. It explores the rich landscape of Irish and European folk traditions. Each episode journeys through diverse cultural narratives, revealing how understanding our traditional heritage can illuminate our present and guide our future. By uncovering the stories, beliefs, and practices embedded in folklore, the podcast invites listeners to discover the depth and complexity of our shared cultural inheritance.

The Púca
This episode of Blúiríní Béaloidis examines the controversy surrounding Aidan Harte's Púca of Ennistymon sculpture, revealing how folkloric entities continue to evoke powerful responses in contemporary society. The public reaction against this artwork—denounced by some as a "pagan idol"—demonstrates the enduring tension between Christian and pre-Christian traditions in Ireland, and how folkloric figures remain potent symbols rather than mere cultural artefacts.

The Púca itself represents a fascinating case study in liminal mythology—a boundary-crossing entity that resists simple categorisation. This amorphous, shape-shifting spirit inhabits the psychological and physical margins of the human world, frequenting transitional spaces like glens, caves, and cliffs. The diverse manifestations of the Púca in folklore—appearing variously as horse, goat, dog, or even light—reflect its function as an embodiment of the unpredictable and uncontrollable elements of nature and human experience.

Particularly revealing are the contradictory narratives surrounding encounters with the Púca. Tales of terrifying night-rides across treacherous landscapes exist alongside stories portraying the entity as a protective guardian. This duality exemplifies how folkloric figures often serve as repositories for complex and sometimes contradictory human attitudes toward the mysteries of existence.

The contemporary controversy over Harte's sculpture reflects a broader pattern in which traditional folkloric entities continue to function as active cultural forces rather than mere historical curiosities. The public's visceral response to the Púca's representation demonstrates that such figures maintain a psychological potency that transcends rational dismissal, revealing how pre-modern mythological thinking persists beneath the surface of our ostensibly rational society. This episode provides a fascinating window into how ancient folkloric traditions continue to shape modern identity and community boundaries.

Mitologia Słowiańska w Zarysie ("An Outline of Slavic Mythology"), accessible through Polona, the digital library of the National Library of Poland, provides a comprehensive overview of the pre-Christian belief systems of the Slavic peoples. This resource represents an important scholarly effort to reconstruct and understand a mythological tradition that, unlike Greek or Norse mythology, lacks extensive written documentation from its active period.

The text examines key deities in the Slavic pantheon, such as Perun, the thunderer and supreme god of the pantheon, and Veles, the god of the underworld, cattle, and wealth. These gods formed a cosmic dichotomy, with Perun ruling the sky and Veles governing the underworld, their eternal conflict symbolising the tension between order and chaos in the Slavic cosmological view.

Beyond major deities, the work explores the rich world of spirits that populated the Slavic mythological landscape. These include the domovoi (house spirits) that protected homes and families, and the rusalki (water spirits), often represented as beautiful maidens who could bring both blessing and misfortune to those who encountered them.

The text details how these mythological figures were central to the cultural and spiritual practices of pre-Christian Slavic societies, informing seasonal rituals, agricultural practices, and community cohesion. Despite the relative scarcity of primary sources, the work synthesises archaeological findings, linguistic evidence, and later folkloric traditions to construct a coherent picture of Slavic mythological systems.

This scholarly resource demonstrates how mythological research can illuminate historical worldviews and social structures, even when working with fragmentary evidence and traditions disrupted by religious conversion and cultural change.

The Dublin City Council's Bram Stoker Festival represents a sophisticated contemporary reinterpretation of mythological thinking, transforming Gothic literary heritage into participatory cultural experience. By celebrating Stoker's legacy through diverse artistic expressions, the festival demonstrates how literary mythologies can be adapted to serve modern communal needs while maintaining connection to their source material.

Founded in 1994 and now one of Dublin's largest arts festivals, this annual event exemplifies how cultural mythologies function as renewable resources that can be continually reinterpreted to address contemporary concerns. The festival's exploration of the supernatural and the "after-dark" creates ritual space for engaging with themes of mortality, fear, and transformation—universal human concerns that traditional mythologies have always addressed.

The festival's emphasis on bilingualism and rural community life connects Gothic literary traditions to older Irish cultural expressions, creating a complex layering of mythological frameworks. This synthesis demonstrates how new cultural narratives often incorporate elements from multiple sources, adapting them to create coherent experiences that simultaneously honor tradition and respond to contemporary circumstances.

Perhaps most significantly, the festival's framing of creativity as "community medicine" articulates an understanding of art and ritual as essential components of social and psychological wellbeing. This perspective echoes traditional views of myth and ritual as necessary elements of healthy community functioning rather than mere entertainment. By creating spaces for collective experiences of the uncanny and the imaginative, the Bram Stoker Festival fulfills functions remarkably similar to traditional mythological practices while adapting them to contemporary urban contexts and aesthetic sensibilities.

This traditional Lithuanian sakmė, or etiological legend, titled "The Sun, the Moon, and the Earth," offers a mythological explanation for the cycle of day and night through a narrative of cosmic family relations. The tale has been preserved and translated from How the Earth Came to Be: Lithuanian Etiological Legends („Kaip atsirado žemė: lietuvių etiologinės sakmės”), a collection compiled by noted Lithuanian folklorist Norbertas Vėlius.

In this narrative, the Sun and the Moon are portrayed as cosmic parents who cherish their daughter, Earth. The harmony of this celestial family is disrupted when a dispute arises over who should have the responsibility of guarding their beloved daughter. The Sun claims exclusive right to this protective role, but the Moon disagrees with this arrangement, leading to a conflict that requires divine intervention.

The matter is brought before Judge Perkūnas, the powerful thunder god in Baltic mythology, who must determine a fair solution. His ruling establishes cosmic order by acknowledging the distinctive qualities of each celestial being: the Sun, embodying maternal warmth, is assigned to watch over Earth during daylight hours, while the Moon, accompanied by his starry sisters, takes responsibility for the night watch. This judgment establishes the alternating cycle of day and night that continues to the present day.

This cosmological myth exemplifies how traditional societies used narrative to explain natural phenomena while simultaneously establishing models for social relationships and conflict resolution. The tale anthropomorphises celestial bodies, making their movements comprehensible through familiar family dynamics, while positioning key natural phenomena within an ordered, purposeful universe.

The narrative reflects the deep connection between Lithuanian mythology and the natural world, illustrating how cosmic order was understood through relational metaphors that created meaningful links between human experience and celestial patterns.