Discover the MythCloud

This woodblock, crafted by Christoffel Jegher in 1652, features the printer’s mark of the Plantin Press (Officina Plantiniana).

The design includes a compass held by a hand emerging from a cloud, flanked by Hercules symbolising labour (Labor) and a female figure representing constancy (Constantia). It served as a hallmark of the prestigious Antwerp printing house and was used in notable publications such as editions of the Breviarium Romanum. The block exemplifies the artistry and symbolism integral to early modern book production.

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Economic and social challenges in the 1970s prompted a reevaluation of Ireland's relationship with Europe. This episode portrays the forging of a new mythology that framed Ireland’s role within a larger European context, reflecting the dynamic interplay between national and continental identities.
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Directed and prouced by Seán Ó Mórdha, Seven Ages: The Story of the Irish State presents a narrative of Ireland's evolution as a complex interplay of historical events, national mythologies, and collective self-perception. This series underscores the significance of cultural narratives in shaping a nation's identity and trajectory, illustrating how myths and storytelling serve as powerful tools in the ongoing process of nation-building. Each episode explores critical events, political developments, and societal changes that have contributed to the formation of modern Ireland.

The series stands as a testament to the rich and complex history of Ireland's evolution since its founding in 1921. The series is further enriched by interviews with influential Irish figures, including former Presidents Patrick Hillery and Mary Robinson, and ex-Taoisigh Liam Cosgrave, Charles Haughey, and Garret FitzGerald. Contributions from Desmond O'Malley, Michael D. Higgins, and various experts in history, journalism, economics, and public service provide additional depth and context. By examining the interplay of historical events, collective self-perception, and the evolution of national mythologies, the series offers a comprehensive understanding of the complex history of the Irish state.

First broadcast in 2000, Seven Ages remains a valuable resource for anyone seeking to unravel the diverse tapestry of Ireland's past and its enduring impact on the nation's present. Produced by Araby Productions in association with The O'Reilly Foundation for RTÉ and BBC Northern Ireland.

The article discusses the Zupełnie Nowa Mitologia (Completely New Mythology) exhibition at the Contemporary Art Gallery "MS44" in Świnoujście, which presents works by various artists who engage with the concept of modern myths.

The exhibition blends historical narratives with contemporary issues, exploring themes such as identity, memory, and collective consciousness. The artists use diverse media to question traditional views of mythology, offering fresh perspectives on how myths influence our understanding of the world in the current socio-political landscape.

By challenging the conventional boundaries of mythological storytelling, the exhibition encourages reflection on the ways in which myths continue to shape modern societies and individual identities. The works on display engage viewers in a dialogue about how myths are constructed and interpreted in today's world, providing a critical lens on both historical and contemporary narratives.

This exhibition offers a compelling exploration of the intersection between art, myth, and society, urging viewers to reconsider how collective memories and national identities are formed and communicated.

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For centuries, Irish communities have relied on the bounty of seas, rivers, and lakes for both physical sustenance and economic survival.

This episode of Blúiríní Béaloidis sees Jonny Dillon and Claire Doohan turn their attention to one of Ireland’s most celebrated aquatic creatures: the noble salmon. Revered in both practical and symbolic terms, the salmon—known as 'the silvery fellow,' 'the king,' and 'the plum of the sea'—has inspired a wealth of lore, customs, and beliefs.

Distinct from its aquatic counterparts, the salmon’s ability to traverse both freshwater rivers and saltwater seas places it in a unique position in Irish tradition. Jonny and Claire explore tales of daring poachers, dangerous plants, superstitious fishermen, and even taboos surrounding the fish’s name. They uncover intriguing 15th-century riddles that persisted into the 20th-century oral tradition, revealing how deeply embedded this creature is in Irish storytelling.

From the mythic Salmon of Life (Bradán na Beatha) to the renowned Salmon of Knowledge, the episode reflects on how these tales intersect with 10th-century Irish-Norse relations and broader Indo-European narrative traditions. Listeners are invited to delve into this rich heritage and uncover the enduring cultural significance of Ireland’s most legendary fish.

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The object is an engraving titled Praalwagen van Neptunus en Amphitrite (Neptune and Amphitrite's Triumphal Chariot), created for the joyous entry of Archdukes Albert and Isabella into Antwerp in 1599.

It was designed by Joos de Momper and engraved by Pieter van der Borcht in 1602. The copper engraving reflects the intricate ceremonial art of the era and is connected to Joannes Bochius' historical narrative of the event. The Museum Plantin-Moretus holds this piece as part of its collection.

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In the spring of 2023, an image captured the Irish zeitgeist with the force of a lightning bolt.

Created by the anonymous artist Spicebag, the artwork depicted Gardaí in riot gear conducting an eviction—an image that would become emblematic of Ireland’s housing crisis and a powerful addition to the nation’s modern mythology of resistance. The piece resonated deeply with the collective consciousness, mirroring the raw emotion and frustration surrounding the growing issue of housing inequality.

Just as the paintings of the 1840s Great Famine crystallized the collective trauma of a nation, Spicebag's artwork has become a totem for contemporary Irish dissent. Drawing inspiration from a 19th-century painting by Cork artist Daniel MacDonald that depicted a Famine-era eviction, the image taps into a deep well of historical memory. Where once British landlords’ agents oversaw evictions, today black-clad gardaí enforce the will of corporate landlords and international investment funds, creating a stark continuity between past and present injustices.

The parallel between historical British colonial power and modern neoliberal forces is striking. In the past, the British Empire extracted wealth through land ownership and tenant farming; today, international investment funds and corporate landlords employ more sophisticated, yet equally effective, methods of wealth extraction. The gardaí, once symbols of independent Ireland’s sovereignty, are now depicted as enforcers of global capital—a new form of colonial power. Spicebag's work is particularly potent in its fusion of traditional Irish protest imagery with contemporary social media aesthetics, creating a viral visual statement that echoes the political cartoons of 19th-century Irish nationalism. In this way, the artwork transcends its immediate context, becoming part of Ireland's evolving mythology of resistance against the commodification of housing and the human cost of treating homes as financial assets rather than fundamental rights.

An article on artistic alter egos, the motives of the alter ego.

The article examines where the attempted escape from the self can artistically lead. With the images used, it makes a connection to the myth of Narcissus. It also shortly likens alter ego’s to mythical figures, a mythically enhanced personality of the artist.

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The sakmė about fate tells of a rich man’s son who was born with a cursed fate foretold by three voices. One voice proclaimed that the child would grow up to be wealthy, while another warned that he would die young. The third voice predicted that Perkūnas, the thunder god, would kill him on a specific day.

As the foretold year approached, the father, trying to protect his child, constructed a thick stone wall to hide the child on that fateful day. However, when the day came, the child, instead of hiding in the wall, ran to the fields and hid under a cabbage leaf. As a thunderstorm approached, Perkūnas struck the stone wall, destroying it. Yet, the child survived, having been outside the wall and under the cabbage leaf.

This story highlights the power of fate and the inability of humans to control or escape their destined end, despite their best efforts. It also suggests that sometimes fate works in mysterious ways that cannot be easily prevented, as even the father’s elaborate precautions could not stop the inevitable. The tale is drawn from How the Earth Came to Be: Lithuanian Etiological Legends (Kaip atsirado žemė: lietuvių etiologinės sakmės), compiled and edited by Norbertas Vėlius.

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Revolutionary Ireland by Lorcan Collins offers a compelling journey into the turbulent years that shaped modern Ireland.

Collins, known for his accessible and engaging style, distills complex events into a vivid narrative that brings Ireland’s fight for independence to life. Through rich storytelling and rigorous research, the podcast explores the key figures, battles, and political landscapes that marked the revolutionary period, covering pivotal moments like the Easter Rising, the War of Independence, and the Civil War.

For history enthusiasts or those curious about Ireland's path to sovereignty, Revolutionary Ireland provides a fresh perspective on the people and passions that fuelled a nation’s transformation.

The bronze sculpture Orpheus, Inventory No. 3876, by Ossip Zadkine, is housed in the Royal Museum of Fine Arts in Antwerp.

Zadkine's interpretation of Orpheus, the mythical musician and poet, likely reflects his modernist approach, combining dynamic forms with emotional intensity. The work embodies Zadkine's fascination with mythology, using abstract shapes to convey the lyrical and tragic nature of Orpheus' story.

The sakmė about greed and deception tells of two mothers, each with a child. One day, a wife went to rake hay in the fields. In her haste to finish before the rain, she forgot her child in the meadow. When she returned, she found the child’s clothes neatly placed, with the child swaddled in silk and cradled by hags, who sang a lullaby about the "forgotten one."

A neighbour, hearing of this strange occurrence, also went to rake hay the next day, but this time, with the intention of abandoning her child. Upon her return, she found her child beheaded, and the hags, holding the lifeless body, sang a different lullaby about the "purposely forgotten one."

This tale reflects the consequences of greed and the dangers of deception, particularly when one acts with ill intent. The story was compiled and edited from How the Earth Came to Be: Lithuanian Etiological Legends (Kaip atsirado žemė: lietuvių etiologinės sakmės) by Norbertas Vėlius.

Baltic brass brooches, adorned with symbolic sun and plant motifs, are inspired by archaeological findings from the Baltic region, particularly from the Roman Iron Age.

These brooches often feature intricate designs that reflect the rich cultural heritage of the Baltic tribes. The sun motif, a prevalent symbol in Baltic art, represents life, fertility, and the eternal cycle of nature. Plant motifs, commonly found alongside sun symbols, signify growth, prosperity, and the close relationship between humans and the natural world. Such brooches were not only decorative but also served functional purposes, fastening garments and indicating social status. The craftsmanship of these pieces showcases the advanced metalworking skills of the Baltic peoples and their deep connection to symbolic representation in art.

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The attempted assassination of Donald Trump has given rise to a powerful shared narrative that blurs the lines between politics, religion, and the supernatural. In the wake of the near-fatal incident, a fervent base of supporters has adopted a new interpretation of Trump's ordeal, casting him not only as a victim but as a martyred figure with divine purpose.

This article and associated media links examine how contemporary political propaganda has helped cultivate a messianic image of Trump, positioning him as a resurrected hero destined to lead a movement grounded in unwavering devotion.

Through the lens of modern mythmaking, Trump’s near-death experience is reframed as a miraculous event, with his supporters reimagining him as a savior figure—an embodiment of strength and resilience in the face of adversity. By exploring the role of martyrdom in this political narrative, we uncover how these themes resonate with ancient archetypes, shaping the beliefs and actions of his followers. The revival of such mythic storytelling serves not only to reinforce Trump's public persona but also to further entrench his influence in the complex dynamics of contemporary politics.

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Folk music has always carried echoes of mythology—a weaving of personal and collective memory that transforms ordinary lives into extraordinary narratives. In Ireland, this mythology has played a vital role in forging national identity, especially during times of social or political upheaval.

Today, as folk music experiences a striking revival in Ireland, it’s worth exploring how this resurgence speaks to the enduring interplay between myth, culture, and nation-building.This recent article in The New York Times highlight how contemporary acts like Lankum, Ye Vagabonds, and The Mary Wallopers are reshaping Irish folk for a new generation.

But this modern movement is not without precedent. The early 20th-century Irish folk revival also emerged as an assertion of cultural independence, intertwining art and politics to craft a distinctly Irish identity. Through grassroots traditions like the “session”—a communal gathering of musicians—and later through global successes like The Dubliners and The Pogues, folk music has always been more than entertainment in Ireland. It is a vessel for storytelling, cultural memory, and a profound sense of place.

As explored in the New York Times article linked below, the 21st-century folk revival carries forward this tradition while responding to new realities. Artists like Lankum redefine the genre with their “doom-folk” sound, bridging Ireland’s ancient musical heritage with a contemporary sense of urgency. Others, like Dundalk’s The Mary Wallopers, reclaim folk’s populist roots, stripping away the commercialised veneer of tourist-oriented “trad” to present an unvarnished, irreverent Irishness. Even younger artists, such as Muireann Bradley, demonstrate the genre’s intergenerational resilience, proving that folk’s mythology continues to evolve.The folk revival is more than nostalgia—it is myth-making in real-time.

By drawing on a collective past, Irish folk music today reconstructs a sense of authenticity while forging a forward-looking cultural identity. Whether through the haunting laments of Lankum or the raw energy of The Mary Wallopers, this movement reminds us that mythology remains a cornerstone of nation-building, providing both a mirror to our history and a compass for our future.

The Syrenka, or Mermaid of Warsaw, is one of Poland's most enduring mythological symbols, serving as the emblem of the city of Warsaw. Depicted on the city's coat of arms and celebrated in statues, murals, and other artworks, the mermaid represents strength, resilience, and protection.

Legends of the Syrenka tell of a mermaid who swam from the Baltic Sea into the Vistula River, where she chose to stay, enchanted by the beauty of the landscape. When threatened by fishermen, she is said to have promised to guard the city and its people, a vow reflected in her armed depiction with a sword and shield.

The Syrenka has become much more than a mythological figure; she embodies Warsaw's identity, symbolising the city's ability to endure and rebuild through periods of upheaval, including the devastation of World War II. The iconic mermaid can be seen across Warsaw, from statues like the famous one in the Old Town Square to modern reinterpretations in public art. Each representation offers a connection to the city's storied past and its dynamic present, illustrating how myth continues to shape civic and cultural identity.

The history of the Irish flag is deeply intertwined with the mythology and cultural narratives that have shaped Ireland’s identity and aspirations for nationhood.

Flags are powerful symbols, their colours and designs imbued with meaning that transcends their physical form. In Ireland, the evolution of national flags reflects the cultural and political struggles to define a shared identity, laden with both unity and division.

Early Irish flags, such as the green field bearing a golden harp, drew from the mythology of Gaelic Ireland, invoking the land’s ancient sovereignty and its cultural heritage. By the late 18th century, during the revolutionary era of the United Irishmen, the green flag with a harp had become a rallying emblem for those seeking independence. The harp, a symbol of Irish kingship and resilience, carried centuries of cultural weight, reinforcing a collective mythos of Ireland as a proud and distinct nation.

The introduction of the tricolour in 1848 by Young Ireland leader Thomas Francis Meagher added a new layer to this evolving narrative. Inspired by the French tricolour, the Irish flag’s green, white, and orange sought to encapsulate the myth of reconciliation: green for Catholics and Irish nationalists, orange for Protestants and Unionists, and white for peace between them. Though its message of unity was aspirational, the flag itself became a symbol of the contested visions of Ireland's future. It was not until the Easter Rising of 1916 that the tricolour began its transformation into a potent emblem of Irish independence. Raised above the General Post Office in Dublin during the rebellion, it embodied the mythology of resistance and sacrifice for national freedom. In the years that followed, as Ireland forged its identity through the fires of the War of Independence and the Civil War, the tricolour became the official flag of the Irish Free State and, later, the Republic of Ireland.

Today, the Irish tricolour carries both the cultural baggage of a divided past and the mythology of unity and peace. Its symbolism remains a cornerstone of national identity, reminding us that nation-building is not just a political project but a cultural one, steeped in the myths we tell ourselves about who we are and who we aspire to be.

Ireland’s first ever Wake Museum will take you on an exploration of life and death, detailing traditions and superstitions, from early Christian times right up to the 20th century.

Situated in what was once a 15th-century Almshouse, the Irish Wake Museum – Rituals of Death offers visitors a rare opportunity to explore one of the most iconic parts of Irish culture, through the eyes of an expert, on this fully guided tour.

In this atmospheric building associated with life and death in Waterford across six centuries visitors are taken on a fascinating journey across our history. In this intimate space the themes of death and funeral practices are explored in order to gain a true understanding of the origins of a wake’s unique customs.

While rooted in the earth, trees stretch skyward, bridging the natural and celestial realms. They embody the rhythms of life—growth, maturity, decay, and renewal—blossoming, bearing fruit, and shedding their leaves before awakening anew each spring.

For our ancestors, certain trees held profound spiritual significance, and traces of their reverence for these sacred intermediaries persist in folk traditions today. In this 19th edition of Blúiríní Béaloidis, hosts Jonny Dillon and Claire Doohan explore the deep cultural bond between nature and tradition. They discuss the sacred trees under which Irish kings were once inaugurated, the hallowed groves where both saints and madmen found refuge, and the votive offerings left on trees near holy wells. These trees, imbued with mystery and reverence, were sometimes feared as dwellings of otherworldly spirits coexisting with humanity in the natural landscape.

Join Jonny and Claire as they guide listeners beneath the metaphorical canopy of tradition, uncovering stories that offer the fruits of memory, meaning, and cultural connection. For an hour, shelter in the shade of this rich folklore and rediscover the enduring power of the sacred tree.

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Žalioj girelė jau geltonuoja is a traditional Lithuanian folk song, recorded by renowned Lithuanian scholar Jonas Basanavičius in the late 19th and early 20th century.

The song was sung by villagers from Gačiškiai village and is a beautiful example of Lithuanian folklore capturing the seasonal changes in nature. The original audio of this folk song, along with its cover image, has been archived and preserved by the Lithuanian Institute of Literature and Folklore, ensuring the continuity of this cultural heritage.

For more information and to explore the full archive, you can refer to the Lietuvių literatūros ir tautosakos instituto Lietuvių tautosakos archyvas.

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Fontaines D.C. represent a critical intersection of Irish literary and musical traditions, exploring the mythology of urban experience through a lens of contemporary post-punk poetry.

Emerging from Dublin's literary culture, the band channels the linguistic investigations of Joyce, the social critiques of Kavanagh, and the existential interrogations of Irish literature into a musical form.Their work traces a genealogy of Irish artistic expression—transforming the nation's literary mythologies into sonic narratives that interrogate identity, place, and cultural memory. By rendering Dublin's psychological landscape through rhythmic language and introspective lyrics, Fontaines D.C. continue a generational dialogue about what it means to articulate Irish experience.The band's music becomes a form of cultural archaeology: decoding the complex mythological narratives embedded in Irish urban consciousness. Check out links below to find out more.

Skellig Michael, a jagged island off the southwest coast of Ireland, is a testament to human resilience and devotion. Rising dramatically from the Atlantic, this UNESCO World Heritage Site is best known for its early medieval monastery, precariously perched on its slopes.

Established by monks sometime between the 6th and 8th centuries, the monastery's austere beehive-shaped huts and stone steps reflect the extreme asceticism of early Irish Christianity. For these monks, Skellig Michael was more than a remote retreat; it was a liminal space where the earthly and divine intersected. The island's isolation mirrored their spiritual quest for closeness to God, echoing broader trends in early medieval Europe that saw the rise of monasticism in wild and marginal landscapes.  Beyond its religious origins, the island's cultural significance has evolved. For centuries, it remained a symbol of Irish endurance and spiritual heritage.

More recently, Skellig Michael captured global imagination as a filming location for *Star Wars*, blending ancient mythology with modern storytelling and introducing this cultural treasure to a new audience. This post explores Skellig Michael’s layered history, from its origins as a sacred refuge to its role in shaping Ireland’s cultural identity. What makes this island so enduringly fascinating is its ability to stand as both a relic of the past and a muse for contemporary narratives.

The concept of the riverbody—a symbolic fusion of physical, historical, and mythological associations—offers a rich metaphor for understanding the formation of culture and nationhood.

The river becomes a living entity that carries not only the physical flow of water but also the collective memories and stories of the people who live alongside it. As an ideal vehicle for cultural identity, the riverbody embodies both the literal and metaphorical journeys of a community, shaping its past, present, and future.

A compelling example of this is found in the work of Belgian composer Peter Benoit, who explored the Scheldt River in his compositions. The Scheldt, which flows through western Belgium, is more than just a geographical feature; it is intertwined with local history, folklore, and identity. Benoit’s compositions capture the river’s symbolic role in shaping national identity, incorporating both its physical presence and its mythological resonance. Much like the mythological rivers that have served as cultural touchstones for various civilizations—such as the Nile in Egypt or the Ganges in India—the Scheldt becomes a cultural riverbody, a conduit through which the community connects to its shared past and constructs its collective narrative.

This traditional Lithuanian sakmė, a brief, fantastical narrative explaining the origins of natural phenomena, is titled "The Sun, the Moon, and the Earth." The tale has been rewritten and translated from How the Earth Came to Be: Lithuanian Etiological Legends („Kaip atsirado žemė: lietuvių etiologinės sakmės”), a collection compiled and edited by Norbertas Vėlius.

In this story, the Sun and the Moon lived in harmony in the sky and cherished their daughter, Earth. However, a dispute arose between them over who would safeguard her. The Sun claimed the sole right to protect Earth, while the Moon disagreed and brought the matter before Judge Perkūnas. The ruling determined that the Sun, embodying maternal warmth, would guard Earth by day, and the Moon, along with his starry sisters, would care for her by night. Since then, the celestial bodies have alternated their watch over Earth, defining the cycle of day and night.

This folk tale reflects the deep connection between Lithuanian mythology and the natural world, illustrating a harmonious balance between cosmic forces.

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National Treasures is a crowdsourced archive project that collects everyday objects and cultural stories to highlight Ireland's heritage over the past century. The RTÉ television series invites the public to submit objects representing significant moments and experiences, creating a digital archive that reflects Ireland’s diverse narratives.

The project emphasises how personal memories and artefacts contribute to national history, showcasing how even simple items can reveal social changes and cultural values. By involving ordinary citizens, National Treasures honours individual stories and connects viewers to shared Irish experiences.

The campaign includes a website, roadshow events, a four-part TV series, and an exhibition at the National Museum of Ireland, fostering broad participation and community engagement. This initiative highlights the importance of personal memory in shaping collective history and strengthens the understanding of Irish identity for future generations.

In his interview, Grzegorz Piątek delves into the evolution of Gdynia, which became an emblem of modernity and progress in the interwar period. Initially conceived as a seaside resort town, Gdynia rapidly transformed into a major industrial port in the 1920s and 1930s. This transformation embodied Poland's aspirations for economic advancement and national pride, positioning Gdynia as a key symbol of the country’s modernisation.

However, the city’s swift development came with challenges. As a burgeoning industrial hub, Gdynia not only represented an economic triumph but also became a battleground for urban planning debates and ideological narratives. The process of transforming a small village into a bustling port city involved significant struggles related to the architectural and infrastructural choices made, often influenced by the political and economic climate of the time. These struggles were not only about space and functionality but also about the vision of a modern Poland, shaped by competing ideas of progress and national identity.

Piątek’s insights illuminate the complex interplay between Gdynia’s physical transformation and its broader symbolic significance, which is embedded in Poland's history as a nation seeking modernisation and self-definition during the interwar period. The city's rapid rise and the ideological currents surrounding its growth have made it a potent myth in Polish culture, symbolising both achievement and the contradictions inherent in rapid industrialisation.

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