Discover the MythCloud

This Lithuanian etiological legend about the creation of the Sun represents a classic example of how traditional societies developed narrative explanations for cosmic phenomena. The story of a blacksmith who forged a shiny piece of iron for six years before hurling it into the sky where it remains as the Sun demonstrates how mythological thinking connected natural phenomena to human activities and crafts, making the cosmic comprehensible through familiar frameworks.

The attribution of the Sun's creation to a blacksmith reflects the cultural significance of metalworking in traditional societies. The transformation of raw materials through fire and skill represented one of humanity's most profound technological achievements, naturally lending itself to mythological associations with cosmic creation. The six-year timeframe emphasises the extraordinary effort required, positioning this cosmic creation as the ultimate expression of human craft rather than instantaneous divine action.

The act of throwing the forged Sun into the sky creates a compelling visual image that bridges human and cosmic domains. This narrative element exemplifies how mythological thinking frequently creates connections between everyday human actions and cosmic processes, making the universe conceptually accessible through familiar frameworks. The simplicity and directness of this explanation demonstrates how mythological narratives often distill complex phenomena into comprehensible stories that connect human experience to larger cosmic patterns.

The preservation of this tale in Norbertas Vėlius's collection How the Earth Came to Be: Lithuanian Etiological Legends represents an important transition in how such narratives function—from living explanatory frameworks to documented cultural heritage. This preservation process transforms oral traditions into textual artifacts, changing their social function while ensuring their survival beyond the communities that originally created them. The contemporary interest in such etiological legends reflects continuing fascination with how traditional societies created meaningful explanatory frameworks for understanding the natural world through narrative rather than scientific explanation.

'The Irish Rover' as performed by The Dubliners and The Pogues represents more than a traditional folk song—it embodies the dynamic tension between tradition and innovation in Irish cultural expression. This collaborative recording, released in 1987, brought together two generations of Irish musicians to reinvigorate a classic narrative ballad with contemporary energy.

The song itself tells the fantastical tale of an impossible ship and its unlikely crew, capturing the spirit of adventure and hyperbole that characterises much of Irish storytelling tradition. While ostensibly about a maritime journey, the song functions as a vehicle for exploring themes of Irish identity, emigration, and the mythologisation of the past that resonates deeply with the Irish experience.

What makes this particular rendition distinctive is the contrast between the performers. The Dubliners, established in 1962, were revered as guardians of traditional Irish folk music, having played a crucial role in preserving and popularising the genre. The Pogues, formed in 1982, approached traditional material with a punk-infused sensibility that initially faced resistance from traditionalists. Their collaboration represents a dialogue between preservation and innovation.

The recording exemplifies how Irish identity is continuously negotiated through cultural expression, demonstrating that tradition is not static but rather a living, evolving phenomenon. By blending traditional folk elements with contemporary sensibilities, 'The Irish Rover' showcases the ongoing dialogue between honouring heritage and embracing innovation.

This performance stands as a celebration of Irish cultural continuity, reinforcing a sense of belonging within the Irish diaspora and connecting generations through shared narratives and musical experience.

These Baltic brass rings featuring serpent motifs exemplify how mythological understanding was literally worn on the body in traditional societies. Inspired by archaeological findings throughout the Baltic region, these rings transform abstract cosmological concepts into tangible, personal objects that connected individuals to broader cultural narratives.

The serpent, a potent symbol in Baltic mythology as in many world traditions, functioned as a multivalent emblem associated with protection, fertility, and cyclical renewal. Its ability to shed its skin made it a natural symbol of transformation and rebirth, while its movement between surface and underground realms positioned it as a mediator between worlds. The specific association with justice, happiness, and domestic safety suggests the serpent's role as a guardian of proper order in both cosmic and social domains.

Beyond their symbolic content, these rings served as personal talismans, believed to channel protective powers for the wearer. This apotropaic function illustrates how mythological thinking in traditional societies extended beyond abstract belief into practical engagement with supernatural forces through material objects. The wearing of such symbols represented both cultural affiliation and active participation in a world understood to be animated by unseen forces.

The contemporary reproduction of such designs demonstrates how mythological symbols maintain cultural resonance even when detached from their original belief contexts, serving as tangible connections to ancestral worldviews. These seemingly modest objects thus function as repositories of cultural memory, linking past and present through persistent symbolic forms.

The transformation of Gdynia from small seaside village to bustling port city during Poland's interwar period represents a compelling case study in how urban development projects acquire mythological significance beyond their material dimensions. As a symbol of progress and national pride within the Second Polish Republic, Gdynia's rapid growth became a powerful embodiment of Poland's aspirations for independence and prosperity following extended periods of foreign domination.

The city's development encapsulated not merely infrastructure construction but the creation of tangible proof that Poland could direct its own modernisation after centuries of partition. This symbolic dimension explains why Gdynia acquired such exceptional significance in Polish national consciousness—it provided concrete evidence of national capability and autonomy at a time when these qualities remained psychologically crucial but practically uncertain.

The political and economic tensions that marked Gdynia's transformation reveal the complex reality behind national mythologies of progress. The challenges inherent in rapid urban development—competing interests, resource limitations, ideological conflicts—created significant gaps between idealised narratives of national triumph and lived experiences of urban growth. This tension between mythological representation and complex reality characterises many national development projects, which typically generate simplified narratives that obscure underlying conflicts and contradictions.

Gdynia's enduring status as powerful symbol in Polish cultural memory demonstrates how built environments acquire mythological significance that persists beyond their original historical contexts. The city continues to function as reference point in Polish discourse about national development and identity, demonstrating how physical spaces become repositories of collective meaning that evolve through changing historical circumstances while maintaining connection to foundational national narratives. This persistent symbolic resonance exemplifies how modern societies continue to create mythological frameworks around material developments, transforming concrete structures into carriers of abstract cultural values.

This woodblock, designed by Pieter van der Borcht I and carved by Antoni van Leest for Rembert Dodoens' influential botanical work Cruijdeboeck, exemplifies how Renaissance scientific publications incorporated mythological elements even as they advanced empirical understanding of the natural world. The integration of mythological figures in the design of a scientific text reflects the transitional nature of Renaissance thought, which blended emerging scientific methodologies with established symbolic frameworks.

The woodblock's intricate mythological imagery served multiple functions beyond mere decoration. By framing botanical knowledge within classical mythological references, the design positioned Dodoens' work within established intellectual traditions while simultaneously signalling its participation in Renaissance cultural innovations. The specific replacement of Maria of Hungary's heraldic shield with a floral vase in the 1563 edition demonstrates how such imagery adapted to changing political circumstances while maintaining visual continuity.

The technical execution of the woodblock—signed by its creators and preserved through its acquisition in 1876—represents a material artifact of Renaissance printmaking practices. The collaborative process between designer and woodcarver exemplifies how knowledge transmission in this period required specialised technical skills alongside intellectual innovation. This collaboration mirrors the broader Renaissance integration of artistic and scientific pursuits, challenging modern disciplinary boundaries.

This woodblock thus stands at a significant historical juncture, participating in the transition from predominantly mythological frameworks for understanding nature toward more empirical approaches. Rather than representing a clean break with earlier modes of thought, it demonstrates how new scientific methodologies emerged gradually, incorporating elements of traditional symbolic thinking while developing increasingly systematic approaches to natural phenomena. The Plantin-Moretus Museum's preservation of this artifact reflects ongoing cultural interest in understanding this pivotal moment in European intellectual history.

This Baltic waistband adorned with spruce-inspired patterns offers a window into how traditional societies encoded sophisticated mythological concepts into everyday objects. The Tree of Life motif, central to many world mythologies and particularly significant in Baltic traditions, transforms a practical item into a statement of cosmic understanding and cultural identity.

The Tree of Life symbol represents a universal mythological concept—the interconnection of all existence through a central axis that unites underground, terrestrial, and celestial realms. In Baltic contexts, this multilayered symbolism provided a comprehensive model of cosmic structure while simultaneously expressing cultural values of continuity and regeneration. By wearing such symbols, individuals literally incorporated themselves into this cosmic framework.

The association with Laima, the Baltic goddess of fate who governs destiny and fortune, adds another dimension to the waistband's significance. As a deity concerned with determining life trajectories, Laima's symbolic presence suggests the waistband's function beyond mere decoration—potentially offering protection and influencing the wearer's fate. This belief in the active power of symbolic objects illustrates how mythological thinking in traditional societies extended beyond abstract concepts into practical engagement with supernatural forces.

The versatility of the waistband as both belt and headband demonstrates the adaptability of traditional Baltic textiles, while the persistence of these patterns in contemporary contexts shows how mythological symbols maintain cultural significance even when detached from their original belief systems. These textile traditions thus serve as repositories of cultural memory, connecting present practices to ancestral worldviews through the continuity of visual language.

This Baltic brass ring featuring sun symbols offers a compelling example of how mythological understanding was literally worn on the body in traditional societies. Drawing inspiration from archaeological discoveries throughout the Baltic region, such rings transformed abstract cosmological concepts into tangible, personal objects that connected individuals to broader cultural narratives.

The sun motif, prevalent in Baltic decorative arts, functioned simultaneously as an aesthetic element and a profound cosmological symbol. Representing life, fertility, and the cyclical nature of time, the sun emblem connected the wearer to the fundamental patterns governing both natural processes and human experience. The belief that such symbols represented "the beginning of the world" suggests their role in anchoring individual identity within a comprehensive mythological framework.

Beyond their symbolic content, rings held special significance as circular objects with no beginning or end—physical embodiments of cyclical time and continuity. By wearing such symbols on the body, individuals incorporated themselves into the cosmic order, affiliating themselves with the generative power of celestial bodies while simultaneously marking cultural belonging through distinctive stylistic execution.

The craftsmanship evident in these pieces reflects the sophisticated metalworking traditions of Baltic peoples, where technical skill itself was understood within a mythological framework. Metalworking frequently carried associations with transformation and even magical properties in traditional European societies, lending additional layers of meaning to the finished objects. Such rings thus demonstrate how material culture in traditional societies operated simultaneously in practical, aesthetic, and spiritual domains rather than separating these functions as modern thinking tends to do.

Just after the Easter Rising, as executions of its leaders began, The Irish Times predicted that the rebellion would "pass into history with the equally unsuccessful insurrections of the past."

This raises one of history's great imponderables: what might have happened if the British had not executed the leaders? Would the widespread anger and dismay at the destruction and loss of life have subsided, or would it have fuelled ongoing resentment? Would the initial hostility towards the rebels on the streets of Dublin have persisted if the executions had not occurred, or would the leaders have become martyrs, shifting public sentiment in their favour?

The British decision to execute the leaders undoubtedly intensified support for the cause, helping to galvanise the independence movement. This case demonstrates the power of martyrdom in mythmaking and national narratives—how death in service of a cause transforms individuals into symbols that transcend their historical context, reshaping public memory and political allegiance.

Within the context of mythology and operatic representation, Gioachino Rossini's Semiramide (1823) offers a fascinating exploration of legendary themes transformed through musical narrative. Based on Voltaire's tragedy Sémiramis, itself inspired by the semi-legendary Assyrian queen Semiramis, the opera exemplifies how historical figures become mythologised through artistic interpretation.

The historical Semiramis (or Shammuramat) ruled Assyria as regent from 811-806 BCE, but her story has been embellished over centuries with legendary exploits and supernatural elements. By the time her narrative reached Metastasio, whose libretto inspired Rossini's composition, Semiramide's character had evolved into a complex blend of power, tragedy, and mythic dimension.

Rossini's operatic treatment draws parallels between Semiramide and figures from classical mythology, particularly in themes of forbidden love, betrayal, and fate—echoing narratives such as the Greek myths of Oedipus and Phaedra. The queen's tragic downfall follows recognisable mythological patterns, where characters cannot escape prophecy despite their attempts to circumvent destiny.

In the opera, Rossini introduces Semiramide's complex emotional landscape through sophisticated musical characterisation, reflecting these mythological undercurrents. The work delves into the consequences of family transgressions and inescapable prophecies, central motifs in classical mythology where characters' lives are governed by forces beyond their control.

The 2010-2011 season performance by Kunsthuis Opera Vlaanderen, now available on DVD, showcases this operatic retelling of a mythologised historical figure. For those interested in the intersection of history, myth, and artistic expression, this production offers insight into how ancient narratives continue to resonate through musical interpretation, transforming historical figures into vehicles for exploring enduring themes of human vulnerability in the face of fate.

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.

Cú Chulainn & The Táin
The Ulster Cycle represents one of Ireland's most significant mythological traditions, offering insights into pre-Christian Irish cultural values while demonstrating the complex processes through which oral traditions are transformed through textual preservation. The transition of these narratives from oral performance to monastic manuscript represents a crucial moment in the evolution of Irish cultural memory, preserving ancient traditions while inevitably transforming them through new media and interpretive frameworks.

The central figure of Cú Chulainn—a heroic demigod who single-handedly defends Ulster against Queen Meadhbh's advancing armies—exemplifies the ambiguous ontological status of mythological heroes who exist at the boundary between human and divine realms. His supernatural abilities and battlefield transformations (notably his "warp-spasm") position him as a liminal figure who embodies both human limitations and superhuman potential. This liminality allows him to function simultaneously as ancestral exemplar and aspirational ideal, connecting human communities to divine sources of power.

The similarities between these Irish narratives and ancient Greek and Indo-European traditions point to the deeper historical connections between seemingly distinct mythological systems. These parallels suggest common cultural origins while highlighting how similar narrative patterns adapt to specific cultural contexts, developing distinctive characteristics while maintaining recognisable underlying structures. This comparative perspective enhances our understanding of how mythological narratives function across cultural boundaries.

The playful framing of the podcast, with hosts Claire Doohan and Jonny Dillon engaging in "bitter dispute on the nature of heroic spirit," demonstrates how ancient mythological narratives continue to provoke meaningful debate in contemporary contexts. Their engagement with these materials exemplifies how mythological traditions maintain cultural relevance by providing frameworks for exploring enduring human questions about courage, duty, violence, and community, adapting ancient wisdom to address contemporary concerns.

This small Baltic purse, adorned with patterns symbolising the cyclic movement of time, exemplifies how everyday objects in traditional societies served as carriers of cosmological understanding. The geometric motifs—spirals and circles—transform a practical item into a tangible expression of abstract concepts, demonstrating how material culture embodies philosophical worldviews.

The prevalence of cyclical imagery in Baltic textile arts reflects a fundamental understanding of time as circular rather than linear—a conception common to many traditional societies whose lives were governed by seasonal rhythms and astronomical cycles. By incorporating such motifs into everyday objects, Baltic peoples literally carried their cosmological framework with them, reinforcing cultural understanding through daily interaction with symbolic material culture.

Spirals and circles, recurring throughout Indo-European symbolic systems, visually represent the continuous flow of time and the eternal principles of renewal. These geometric abstractions function as simplified but profound expressions of complex philosophical concepts, making abstract principles tangible and accessible through material engagement.

The purse's practical function of containing and preserving valuables takes on additional significance when considering its decorative symbolism. Just as the purse secures physical resources, the cyclical imagery references the cosmic patterns that ensure the preservation and renewal of natural resources. This multi-layered functionality demonstrates how traditional Baltic culture integrated practical needs and spiritual understanding rather than treating them as separate domains. Such objects provide valuable insights into worldviews where material and metaphysical concerns were understood as inherently interconnected rather than distinct.

This traditional Lithuanian folk song, documented by Jonas Basanavičius (1851-1927) as part of his extensive fieldwork collecting Lithuanian cultural expressions in the late 19th century, represents a significant element of Lithuania's intangible cultural heritage. The preservation of such folk songs was particularly important during a period when Lithuanian national identity was under pressure from Russification policies imposed by the Tsarist regime.

Basanavičius, often referred to as the "Patriarch of the Nation," played a central role in the Lithuanian National Revival movement, recognising that cultural expressions like folk songs were essential repositories of linguistic tradition and collective memory. His systematic documentation of songs and tales from villages across the Lithuanian-speaking territories created an invaluable archive of cultural knowledge that might otherwise have been lost to modernisation and political suppression.

The song's title, which translates as "A Warm, Beautiful Little Autumn," immediately establishes its connection to seasonal rhythms and agricultural life. Lithuanian folk songs typically reflect the deep relationship between rural communities and the natural environment, marking transitions between seasons and acknowledging the importance of weather patterns for agricultural prosperity.

The diminutive form used in the title (rudenėlis rather than rudenis) is characteristic of Lithuanian folk expression, where diminutives express affection and intimacy rather than simply indicating small size. This linguistic feature creates a sense of familiar, personal relationship with natural phenomena and seasonal cycles.

The preservation of this cultural expression by the Lithuanian Literature and Folklore Institute's Lithuanian Folklore Archive ensures continued access to these traditions, maintaining connections between contemporary Lithuanian society and its pre-industrial cultural heritage. This institutional commitment to preserving oral traditions reflects the recognition that such expressions contain valuable insights into historical relationships between communities and their environments.

Ludovik Vermeersch's article on artistic alter egos explores how creative personas function as mythological constructs that simultaneously extend and constrain artistic identity. By examining the motives behind alter ego creation, the article illuminates how these artificial personas represent modern manifestations of ancient mythological patterns where identity is understood as fluid and potentially multiple rather than fixed and singular.

The connection to the myth of Narcissus is particularly revealing, suggesting that artistic alter egos often embody the paradoxical quest for self-knowledge through self-transformation. Just as Narcissus becomes transfixed by his own image—recognising yet not recognising himself—artists who create alter egos engage in complex dialogues with externalised aspects of themselves, seeking both escape from and deeper understanding of their artistic identity through this mythological doubling.

The concept of the "mythically enhanced personality" suggests how alter egos function as more than mere pseudonyms or disguises, instead serving as transformative vehicles that allow artists to transcend ordinary limitations. This enhancement parallels traditional mythological narratives where humans acquire extraordinary capabilities through divine intervention or transformation, adapting ancient patterns of transcendence to address contemporary artistic concerns about authenticity, identity, and creative potential.

The article's title—The Vain Escape From The Self—encapsulates the fundamental paradox at the heart of artistic alter egos: the impossibility of truly escaping one's identity even through elaborate mythological constructions. This tension between transformation and inevitable return to self reflects broader patterns in mythological thinking, where transcendence is always temporary and partial, constrained by fundamental conditions of human existence. The contemporary artistic exploration of alter egos thus represents a sophisticated adaptation of traditional mythological concepts to address modern concerns about identity, authenticity, and the boundaries of the self.

This woodblock from 1652, crafted by Christoffel Jegher (c. 1596-1653), features the printer's mark of the prestigious Plantin Press (Officina Plantiniana), one of the most significant printing establishments in 16th and 17th century Europe. Now preserved in the Museum Plantin-Moretus in Antwerp, Belgium—a UNESCO World Heritage site—this artefact represents the intersection of visual symbolism, commercial identity, and early modern print culture.

The design includes a compass held by a hand emerging from a cloud, flanked by two allegorical figures: Hercules symbolising labour (Labor) and a female figure representing constancy (Constantia). This iconography encapsulated the press's motto: "Through work and constancy," reflecting the values of its founder, Christophe Plantin, and his successors, the Moretus family.

The mark served as both a commercial logo and a symbolic representation of the press's commitment to precise, consistent work. Used in notable publications such as various editions of the Breviarium Romanum, this visual identifier helped establish the Plantin Press's reputation for quality across Europe during a period when books were becoming increasingly central to knowledge dissemination.

Jegher, a master woodcutter who collaborated with Peter Paul Rubens on numerous projects, brought exceptional craftsmanship to this small but significant piece. His technical skill exemplifies the artistic standards maintained by the press, where visual and textual elements were integrated with equal attention to detail and quality.

The block stands as a testament to the development of brand identity in early modern publishing, demonstrating how symbolic visual language was deployed to communicate values and establish recognition in an expanding marketplace of printed materials.

Yorgos Maraziotis' artistic research project Mythical Truths offers a sophisticated exploration of how contemporary institutions develop their own mythologies through the accumulation and circulation of personal narratives. By collecting stories from students at the Royal Academy of Fine Arts Antwerp and treating them as myths that oscillate between truth and fiction, Maraziotis demonstrates how mythological thinking continues to shape collective identity even in ostensibly rational modern contexts.

The project's recognition that personal belief, fact, fiction, and myth are intertwined within our understanding of the world challenges simplistic distinctions between objective and subjective knowledge. This approach reflects contemporary understandings of how social realities are constructed through shared narratives rather than existing as fixed, independent truths. By applying this framework to art education specifically, Maraziotis illuminates how artistic institutions develop distinct cultures through the accumulation and transmission of stories that shape participants' experiences and expectations.

Particularly significant is the project's attention to the Academy's 360-year history and its current international character, with students from over fifty countries engaging in critical self-reflection and artistic practice. This emphasis on diversity within a historically situated institution raises important questions about how cultural narratives evolve through contact with multiple traditions and perspectives. The project thus examines the dynamic interplay between institutional continuity and cultural evolution.

Maraziotis' questioning of whether memory is a fixed notion or a constantly evolving construct addresses fundamental issues in how mythological thinking operates in contemporary contexts. By exploring how an archive of everyday stories can facilitate institutional pluralism and inspire meaningful change, the project demonstrates how mythological frameworks continue to serve essential functions in modern society—providing flexible frameworks for understanding complex social realities while adapting to changing circumstances and diverse perspectives.

This woodcut depicting the mythical creature "Su" was created by the renowned artist Christoffel Jegher (c. 1596-1653) for Juan Eusebio Nieremberg's influential natural history text Historia naturae, maxime peregrinae, libris XVI. distincta, published in Antwerp in 1635. Now preserved in the Museum Plantin-Moretus in Antwerp, Belgium—a UNESCO World Heritage site housing the world's oldest printing presses—this artifact represents the fascinating intersection of early scientific inquiry, mythology, and Renaissance print culture.

Nieremberg (1595-1658), a Spanish Jesuit scholar, created a comprehensive work that attempted to catalogue both actual and legendary creatures from the known world, with particular attention to specimens from the Americas. The inclusion of mythical beings like the "Su" alongside empirically documented animals reflects the transitional nature of scientific understanding in the early modern period, when the boundaries between observation, hearsay, and inherited classical authority remained fluid.

Jegher, who served as court engraver to the King of Spain and collaborated with Peter Paul Rubens on numerous projects, brought considerable artistic skill to this illustration. His technique exemplifies the sophisticated woodcut tradition developed in 16th and 17th century Europe, which allowed for the mass reproduction of detailed images essential to the dissemination of natural history knowledge.

The woodcut's acquisition by the Plantin-Moretus Museum in 1876 preserved it as part of the legacy of the Plantin Press, one of Europe's most significant publishing houses during the Renaissance and Baroque periods. This illustration stands as a testament to the evolving understanding of the natural world during a period when empirical observation was increasingly challenging, but had not yet displaced, the authority of classical and medieval textual traditions.

The Royal Museum of Fine Arts Antwerp (KMSKA), one of Belgium's premier cultural institutions, houses the artwork titled A Pencil Sketch of the Painter Titian, Painting Venus, Inventory No. 2138(I)/33, by Nicaise De Keyser (1813-1887), a prominent Belgian artist and director of the Antwerp Academy of Fine Arts from 1855 to 1879.

This meta-artistic sketch depicts the renowned Renaissance master Titian (c. 1488-1576) in the act of creating one of his most celebrated works, the Venus of Urbino (1534). This approach represents more than a simple historical illustration; it embodies a dialogue across centuries of artistic tradition, with a 19th-century Belgian artist paying homage to a 16th-century Venetian master.

Titian's Venus of Urbino, now housed in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, stands as a landmark in the history of European art, representing both the height of Venetian Renaissance painting and a pivotal development in the representation of the female nude. By choosing to depict Titian creating this specific work, De Keyser emphasises the painting's canonical status and its continuing influence on European artistic traditions.

De Keyser's sketch reflects the 19th-century fascination with artistic lineage and the lives of great masters. During this period, artists and academics increasingly viewed the history of art as a narrative of genius and influence, with modern artists positioning themselves as inheritors of classical traditions while simultaneously asserting their own innovations.

This drawing exemplifies how mythology—in this case, the classical figure of Venus—continued to serve as a common reference point across disparate historical periods and artistic movements. It demonstrates the enduring power of mythological subjects to connect artists across time, creating continuity within Western artistic tradition while accommodating evolving aesthetic sensibilities and technical approaches.

'Put 'Em Under Pressure' emerged as the official anthem of Ireland's national football team during their historic 1990 FIFA World Cup campaign in Italy. Produced by Larry Mullen Jr. of U2, a passionate supporter of Irish football, this track immediately transcended its sporting origins to become a cultural touchstone that united the nation during a period of significant social and economic transformation.

The song's composition demonstrates a sophisticated blending of cultural elements: the haunting opening vocals by Moya Brennan of Clannad establish a connection to traditional Irish music and the mythology of Ireland's mystic past, while the driving guitar riff—borrowed from Horslips' 'Dearg Doom' and itself adapted from the traditional "O'Neill's Cavalry March"—grounds the anthem in Ireland's musical heritage. The integration of the universally recognised "Olé, Olé, Olé" chant, originally a Spanish chant traditionally used as an exclamation of encouragement or appreciation, particularly in bullfighting and flamenco dancing, creates an accessible entry point for international audiences, while manager Jack Charlton's voice adds authenticity and personal connection for supporters.

The recording process itself embodied collective national participation, with the "Windmill Carpark Choir" of Irish fans contributing to the chorus—a symbolic representation of the deep connection between the team and its supporters. Released under Son label, part of U2's Mother Records, the single topped the Irish charts for 13 weeks, holding the record for longest-charting single in Ireland until 'Riverdance' in 1994.

Beyond its commercial success, 'Put 'Em Under Pressure' functions as a shared cultural narrative that captures a pivotal and mythic moment in Irish identity formation. The song represents a confident, outward-looking Ireland ready to make its mark on the world stage, while still honouring traditional cultural elements. Its enduring popularity at major sporting events demonstrates how effectively such cultural products can serve as repositories of collective memory and national sentiment.

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.

Perkūnas stands as one of the most powerful and revered deities in the Baltic pantheon, central to Lithuanian pagan traditions dating back to the pre-Christian era. This thunder god plays a multifaceted role as nature's protector, fertility bringer, and justice enforcer, embodying the dynamic and often unpredictable power of atmospheric phenomena.

Deeply connected to seasonal cycles, Perkūnas is renowned for his thunderbolts, which are said to fertilise the earth goddess Žemyna during spring's first storm, awakening nature from winter dormancy and initiating the annual cycle of growth and renewal. This connection between celestial and terrestrial fertility reflects the agricultural foundations of Baltic spiritual traditions.

Perkūnas is typically depicted wielding weapons like the "god's whip" (lightning) or stone axes, which he uses to punish wrongdoing and maintain cosmic order. His character as a just, if sometimes impatient, guardian of morality is exemplified in his rivalry with Velnias, a deity associated with chaos and the underworld. This duality underscores the balance between light and darkness, order and chaos in Baltic mythological understanding.

Rituals honouring Perkūnas included sacrifices, prayers for favourable weather, and offerings of grain or livestock. People sought his protection during storms by adorning homes with sacred tree branches or ringing bells to repel evil spirits. Thunder was interpreted as Perkūnas' voice, through which he communicated with priests who would lead communities in sacrifices and celebrations.

The enduring significance of Perkūnas in Lithuanian folklore illustrates how mythological figures can embody both natural forces and moral principles, providing frameworks for understanding both the physical world and ethical behaviour.

"Solidaryca" refers to the distinctive brush-painted lettering designed by graphic artist Jerzy Janiszewski for the iconic 1980 Solidarność (Solidarity) logo. This powerful visual symbol became emblematic of Poland's first independent trade union movement and the broader opposition to communist rule that ultimately contributed to systemic political change across Eastern Europe.

The logo's bold, organic letterforms ingeniously suggest a crowd of people holding up the Polish flag, visually embodying the concept of solidarity and collective action. Though not formally developed as a typeface, the distinctive letterforms have been adapted extensively in various logos and protest materials, becoming one of the most recognisable political symbols of the late 20th century.

The Solidarność logo and its associated typographic style transcended mere graphic design to become a potent political and cultural symbol that helped create a foundational myth for democratic Poland. As a key visual element of the movement, it contributed to the development of a narrative of peaceful resistance against an authoritarian system, playing a central role in Poland's transition from communism to democracy in the 1980s.

The design itself brilliantly encapsulated the spirit of unity and defiance that characterised the movement. Its hand-drawn quality suggested authenticity and grassroots origins, while its bold, condensed form conveyed strength and determination. Over time, the logo became a cornerstone of Poland's national identity during a period of profound political transformation.

Janiszewski's creation demonstrates how visual symbols can embody complex political ideas and aspirations, creating immediately recognisable shorthand for movements and their values. The enduring power of this symbol illustrates how graphic design can transcend aesthetic considerations to become a significant element in political mythology and collective memory.

Project 2025, a comprehensive political roadmap developed by The Heritage Foundation to guide conservative policy in the United States, draws heavily on enduring American myths that resonate deeply within the national psyche. These narratives function not merely as political strategies but as cultural frameworks that shape values, define collective identity, and establish ideological parameters for governance.

Designed as a blueprint for a potential Republican administration in 2025, the roadmap represents the collaborative efforts of over 400 contributors from conservative think tanks and organisations. It outlines an ambitious agenda to reshape the U.S. federal government, prioritising government size reduction, environmental and social regulation curtailment, states' rights reinforcement, and traditional conservative value promotion. Central to its implementation strategy is a proposed strengthening of executive power, including the replacement of career civil servants with politically aligned appointees.

Project 2025 exemplifies the creation of a shared narrative—a cornerstone of modern mythology—that frames governance as a heroic battle to "restore America." Like ancient myths that defined collective identity and purpose, it employs recurring themes of decline, redemption, and renewal. The initiative positions its vision as a national rescue mission, with bureaucratic elites and progressive policies cast as antagonists in a larger narrative of revival, employing archetypal patterns of heroism, villainy, and promised utopia to create a powerful ideological rallying point for those disenchanted by rapid social and political change.

However, like all modern myths, this framing risks oversimplifying complex realities. By reducing governance to a binary struggle between good and evil, it can deepen societal divisions and hinder constructive dialogue about policy trade-offs and compromises. Understanding how initiatives like Project 2025 leverage mythological structures reveals them as more than political strategies—they are attempts to define a comprehensive vision for society's future through narrative frameworks that resonate with deeply held cultural beliefs.

Johan Pas's reflection on Anselm Kiefer's 2016 exhibition at the Pompidou Centre and his reception of an honorary degree from the University of Antwerp examines how contemporary art continues to engage with mythological thinking through sophisticated exploration of history, memory, and cultural identity. Kiefer's powerful body of work exemplifies how modern artists address the complexities of European historical experience through visual and literary channels that blend factual documentation with mythological frameworks.

The intertwining of history and myth throughout Kiefer's artistic practice demonstrates how these domains remain profoundly interconnected despite modern attempts to separate them. His simultaneous engagement with literal and symbolic representations creates multilayered visual experiences that acknowledge both the concrete specificity of historical events and their mythological resonance in collective memory. This approach exemplifies how sophisticated contemporary art often functions similarly to traditional mythology—providing frameworks for understanding complex aspects of experience that resist purely rational explanation.

Kiefer's exploration of trauma and transformation positions his work within a tradition of European art that addresses historical catastrophe through symbolic frameworks. By incorporating materials that physically embody historical processes—earth, ash, lead—his work creates tangible connections to the past while simultaneously transforming historical remnants into new aesthetic configurations. This material transformation parallels the psychological processes through which societies incorporate traumatic experiences into meaningful narratives.

The academic recognition of Kiefer's contribution through an honorary degree from the University of Antwerp reflects how contemporary institutions value artistic approaches to history that acknowledge its mythological dimensions. This recognition demonstrates understanding that purely factual approaches to historical experience cannot fully capture its emotional and psychological significance. The exhibition Die Buchstaben (The Letters) further emphasises Kiefer's engagement with how symbolic systems—particularly language and text—shape our understanding of reality, demonstrating his sophisticated exploration of how human meaning-making processes transform raw experience into structured narratives.

Grzegorz Piątek 's analysis of Gdynia's rapid transformation from seaside resort to major industrial port in interwar Poland exemplifies how urban development projects often function as physical manifestations of national mythology. The city's evolution from small village to bustling port represented not merely infrastructure development but a tangible embodiment of Poland's aspirations for economic advancement and national self-determination following independence.

The speed and scale of Gdynia's development created a powerful national symbol that transcended its practical economic functions. As an emblem of modernity and progress, the city served as concrete evidence of Poland's capacity for self-directed development after extended periods of foreign domination. This symbolic dimension helps explain the intensity of debates surrounding the city's planning and construction, which concerned not just practical considerations but competing visions of Polish national identity and future direction.

Particularly significant were the ideological narratives surrounding the city's development, which positioned it as a triumph of national will and organisation. These narratives exemplify how modernisation projects often generate mythological frameworks that interpret material developments through nationalist lenses, creating compelling stories of collective achievement that reinforce national solidarity while potentially obscuring more complex historical realities.

The continued resonance of Gdynia as a potent symbol in Polish culture demonstrates how built environments acquire mythological significance that persists beyond their original historical contexts. The city's rapid rise and the ideological currents surrounding its growth have made it an enduring reference point in Polish discourse about national development and identity, demonstrating how physical spaces become repositories of collective meaning that evolve through changing historical circumstances while maintaining connection to foundational national narratives.

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.